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PREFACE

IT has been my lot to sojourn for twenty years among men whose customs and modes of thought are not only distinctive but unique, and who, in spite of much that has been written about them are little known and indeed much misunderstood. Their lives are not only hidden and esoteric but for the ordinary mortal admission among them is impossible. It is true that they may be seen in the streets, in the halls of their colleges, and in the pulpits of churches, but their private, their real lives are as far removed from the range of men's vision as if they were passed in some remote forest of tropical Africa. In spite, however, of their elusiveness from the ken of their fellow-men Jesuits have played a large and significant role in history, political as well as religious, during the centuries that have gone by since the Renaissance.

In brief, the purpose of my story is to supply thoughtful readers with the means of forming a true estimate of Jesuitism. My story should serve alike as a counterblast to the extreme praise and the extreme blame that is customarily apportioned to tj>e Society of Jesus. Some of my readers will regard it as a subtle attempt to undermine the accepted, traditional view of Jesuit villainy. They may even harbor the suspicion that the author has been subsidised by the Jesuits. Would that that were so!

On the other hand, some will interpret my story as "another attack on the Jesuits," and may even read into it a concealed attack on the Catholic Church. Such a view will no doubt be taken by sensitive friends of the Society of Jesus. .

To interpret criticism, even severe and caustic criticism, as an "attack" is, however, wholly unfair. No less unfair is it to interpret criticism of the Society of Jesus" as an assault on the Catholic Church. The critic analyses, and indicates characteristics, good and bad. The attacker initiates an offensive which has destruction as its aim. Jesuits themselves have never admitted any distinction between their critics and their attackers, but it may be that their extreme sen-

v

sitiveness to reproach and blame has clouded their minds in this respect. Invariably they identify their critics with the enemies of religion in spite of the fact that many very eminent prelates of the Church have belonged to the former class.

The Society of Jesus, though often called the "Grenadier Guards of the Pope," is no more an essential part of the Catholic Church than is the Horse Guards an essential part of the British Empire. No doubt it has enjoyed the favor of many Popes, just as the Horse Guards has enjoyed the favor of many English kings, but who could with justice pretend that criticism, even caustic criticism, of the Horse Guards implies treason to the British Empire? And who can fairly identify criticism of the Jesuits with disloyalty to Catholicism?

Many readers will miss in my story the usual note of adulation and praise that characterizes other Catholic writers on the subject of the Jesuits. From time to time it is true, I quote very laudatory passages about the Society, but they are, almost all of them, taken directly from the writings of Jesuits themselves, and the use I make of them is for the most part to illustrate a certain arrogance in Jesuitism. No doubt, it would have been possible for me to dwell on many acts of virtue and kindness that, as a Jesuit, I witnessed in Jesuits, but my purpose was to analyse the thing called Jesuitism and to illustrate its workings. And the good and beautiful things that I came across in the Order were to my mind attributable not to Jesuitism, but to something else in the Jesuit than Jesuitism.

Readers of sectarian bias may quote my story as an argument against the Church. "If the Jesuits are such," they may say, "then a -fortiori the Church is such." An argument of this kind will, however, bear little weight with thoughtful men. It in no way follows because, at a moment of stress and strain, the Church tolerated the experiment of Jesuitism (restricting at first the number of Jesuits to sixty), that she identified herself with Jesuitism. Nor does it follow that according as Jesuitism departed more and 'more from Catholic and Christian tradition, the Church step by Step evolved into something un-Catholic and unchristian. No doubt it is surprising that Jesuitism should have been cherished in the bosom of the Church for so long a time. It is true that four Popes, Paul

IV, Innocent X, Innocent XI, and Clement XIV, tried to rid the Church of it, but only two of them took drastic measures to carry out their purpose into actuality. They failed, of course, because Jesuitism had become more deeply rooted than they realised.

Readers of this story who have no religious bias to divert their attention from the thoughts it conveys, will find unfolded in these pages some curious problems that perhaps have not hitherto intrigued their minds. They will find the description of a very determined effort, based on the assumption that human nature is malleable, to discover a spiritual instrument for forcing men into a mould of perfect, practical, but unimaginative, sanctity. They will see, illustrated in material that is probably new to them, the disconcerting results that follow from the enforcement of ideally "wise and good" laws, and how suffering and evil seem to follow inevitably when the rules of spiritual perfection, suitable for one epoch, are applied in another. The incompetence of men to legislate for the spiritual good of others, especially for others of generations yet to come, is amply illustrated, as is the falsity of the assumption that mail is to any considerable extent malleable.

Twenty years of adult manhood is the price I paid for the experiences on which this story is built. No small price! And yet were others to offer as much again, forty years of lifetime, they could not purchase these experiences. For they would be unattainable to any who had not a sincere and pious vocation to live and die in the Order. No one could understand Jesuit obedience unless with firm faith he accepted all the Jesuit doctrine of obedience, and heard distinctly, in the voice of his Superior, as I used to hear, the divine voice of Christ. No one could plumb the depths of Jesuit self-annihilation unless with a holy and heartfelt yearning, he prayed for and sought as I did, humiliations, sufferings and contempt. Neither could one write a story such as mine, did one, while in the Order, live note-book in hand, jotting down observations for subsequent use. Such an attitude of mind would preclude the possibility of whole-hearted, self-identification with the life of a Jesuit. Needless to say, while in the Order, I never dreamed that one day I

should, having returned among plain people, write the experience of my sojourn among the children of Ignatius.

At times, while writing my story, there arose in my mind a disturbing thought: the thought of good friends who had been dear to me in the Order, and whose memory I still cherish. With a pang I realised that they would be hurt when they read these pages. They would no longer think of me as loyal. They would say, "Surely this is disloyalty, to live among us as one of us, and then go forth and tell the world about us!" In their hearts they would, I knew, recognise the truth of my criticisms, and the justice of most of my conclusions, but they would think: "Better to leave such things unsaid; what good can come from making such things known?"

No good can come to those whose lot in the Society has been and must continue to be suffering and misunderstanding. But good can come to those who exercise influence in making young men join the ranks of the Society. The sad and tragic holocaust of fine young men, the continual sacrifice, that from generation to generation is offered on the altar of Jesuitism, can be at least diminished as a result of my story. Mothers who read this book will hesitate before urging their pious sons to seek for happiness and holiness where it is seldom to be found. Catholics will be spared that injustice to their Faith which consists in pointing to Jesuits and Jesuitism as its highest embodiment.

Friends, Jesuit friends I once had, may still consider me disloyal, but their view, if they maintain it, will not embrace the recognition of the fact that loyalty to Truth stands before loyalty to persons and to fond associations.

My story begins with a brief historical sketch of the origin and development of the Society of Jesus, for the convenience of those who know little about the Jesuits. This sketch is followed by some illustrations of how Jesuit writers, whose writings are before the American public, interpret themselves and the events of their history. As regards "sources," I rely mainly on my own experiences and on the Rules, Constitutions, and Official Documents of the Order. The works of two ex-Jesuits, Baron von Hoensbroech, a high-minded German scholar, and George Tyrrell, a brilliant, sensitive English critic, were of use to me, for I could understand the men behind

their pages. To the former I am indebted for translations from the German, and for some historical notes; to the latter for some philosophical conceptions concerning Jesuitism.

In the cqurse of my story I relate many minor incidents, some of which are not wholly 'edifying,' but I hope I have succeeded in keeping clear of "revelations." To satisfy the morbid thirst some feel for scandals was in no sense the purpose of my story. Any facts that I relate which are discreditable to the Society of Jesus are related with the sole purpose of giving a truer and deeper insight into the Mind of the Order, and of illustrating the manner in which the Jesuit Constitutions work out in practice.

I know no better way of terminating this Preface than by appealing, in the very words which Ignatius himself, the Founder of the Jesuits, appealed for a fair and sympathetic hearing in his book, "The Spiritual Exercises." "It must be presupposed," he wrote, "that every pious Christian ought with a more ready mind to put a good sense upon the opinion of another than to condemn it; but if he can in no way defend it, let him inquire its meaning of the writer; and if the latter's logic be faulty, let him correct it in a kindly way; if this suffice not, let him try all suitable means by which he may help him to think correctly/' /

CONTENTS

VAGK

PREFACE f ..... v

CHAPTER

I. THE ROMANCE OF THE JESUIT ORDER ... 17

II. THE JESUIT ENIGMA 44

III. THE BOOK THAT MADE THE JESUITS .... 62

IV. THE MIND OF THE JESUIT ORDER .... 84 V. JESUIT ESPIONAGE , . . .105

VI. JESUITS AND WOMEN ? . . 126

VII. JESUIT MIND-HEALING 145

VIII. JESUIT EDUCATION , . . . 165

IX. REPRESSION AND EXPLOSIONS . . . ,. . . . 187

X. POWER AND PRESTIGE 206

XI. A CALUMNY AGAINST THE JESUITS 224

XII. THE JESUIT WAY OF ESCAPE 245

XIII. A POPE AND AN APOSTATE 262

XIV. REMINISCENCES AND REFLECTIONS 284

FACING PAGE

Cardinal Richelieu 18

Ignatius Loyola 30

Catherine of Russia 52

"Dismissal" Form of the Society of Jesus 112

Erasmus 168

Pius IX 242

Innocent X /. 256

Clement XIV 264

CHAPTER I

THE ROMANCE OF THE JESUITS

THE story of the Jesuits opens with so many adventures that are remote from the ordinary, and develops so swiftly and surely into a moving and thrilling enterprise of high and chivalrous purpose, that it deserves the title of Romance. It is a strange story, removed in a numher of ways from the commonplace. It tells of a distinguished body of men bound together by oath in the pursuit of no less an adventure than the conquest of the world. They are soldiers, spiritual soldiers, with clean hands and earnest faces, and they march swiftly and bravely. The spectacle of their early achievements is unique and thrilling. High and lofty motives give them superhuman courage, and for a few decades their progress is marked by striking victories.

The initial grandeur of the Jesuit Romance was, however, too splendid to be long sustained. The soldiers of Ignatius, after a time, suffered their generous ideals to wane, and they fought less strenuously as arrogance found a place in their hearts. Their hands grew soiled from pillaging, and their faces lost the look of earnestness through overmuch repose. With unnecessary frequency there emerge in the later pages of the Romance, .incidents of a- petty and sordid nature, and the reader is left with an aching sense of pity. The gallant Company of hero-saints who set out to capture the world for Christ had all died off, and those who fell in to take their places were men of coarser fibre and weaker vision. When the regiment had lasted a century or so, the soldiers that comprised it were still bound together by oath, but the regimental slogan, "all for the honour and glory of God" (A. M. D. G.), had lost much of its meaning for them.

The early Jesuit Generals, Ignatius, Lainez, Borgia, and Acqua-viva, had scattered their men in every direction, north, south, east and west, and had inspired them to make stupendous efforts. For this reason we find incidents and situations of a most sensa-

tional kind, in the first chapters of the Jesuit Romance. We find the Jesuit in places that no Western foot had ever trod, and we find him received with honour, in places where no other Westerner would dare to go. It was not long before he made his way to Thibet and held friendly intercourse with the Grand Lama. For years he lived on intimate terms with the Great Mogul, at Delhi. He did not delay about penetrating the forests of the Congo, and searching for the sources of the Nile. He marched on foot from Persia to Paris, and drew maps of unknown lands in the Far East.

While some Jesuits were thus scouring the globe at the word of their General, others were penetrating society and mixing with men of the most varied virtues and vices. Indeed it is not too much to

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[say that there is no outstanding character in history since the latter half of the sixteenth century, whether his fame was due to great learning or great achievements or great villainy, with whom the Jesuit did not come in contact. We find him playing chess with the priest-hunting Conqueror, Oliver Cromwell; directing the conscience of Henri IV of France and likewise of his murderer Ravaillac; teaching Latin to Titus Gates, whose "Popish Plot" ruined alike the hopes of the Catholic Stuarts and the Catholic Church in England. He took to task such mighty statesmen as Philip II of Spain, Louis XIV, Richelieu, and Mazarin. He won the love as well as the hatred of Voltaire, and could command Sobieski and Maximilian of Bavaria as though they were his servants. He held the hand.of Queen Christina, the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, as she stepped from the throne of Sweden, to be free to tell her beads. He stood as counsellor at the side of Japanese and Chinese Emperors, and ruled as Prime Minister in Trichinopoli.

He intrigued to place Mary Queen of Scots on the throne of England, and twenty years later associated with Guy Fawkes who sought to murder her son. He put Jansenius on the'index; befriended Galileo; set up inquisitions; denounced Garibaldi. He corresponded with Napoleon; conversed with Washington; enjoyed the friendship and hospitality of Frederick the Great and Catherine the Great. He glided from court to court, a mild-eyed diplomat; to arrange royal espousals; to negotiate loans for papal wars; to foment rebellions; to secure treaty-privileges. In one city, as asso-

CARDINAL RICHELIEU, WHO CROSSED SWORDS WITH JESUIT POLITICIANS AND DIPLOMATS.

tional kind, in the first chapters of the Jesuit Romance. We find the Jesuit in places that no Western foot had ever trod, and we find him received with honour, in places where no other Westerner would dare to go. It was not long before he made his way to Thibet and held friendly intercourse with the Grand Lama. For years he lived on intimate terms with the Great Mogul, at Delhi. He did not delay about penetrating the forests of the Congo, and searching for the sources of the Nile. He marched on foot from Persia to Paris, and drew maps of unknown lands in the Far East.

While some Jesuits were thus scouring the globe at the word of their General, others were penetrating society and mixing with men ,pjF the most varied virtues and vices. Indeed it is not too much to '.say that there is no outstanding character in history since the latter half of the sixteenth century, whether his fame was due to great learning or great achievements or great villainy, with whom the Jesuit did not come in contact. We find him playing chess with the priest-hunting Conqueror, Oliver Cromwell; directing the conscience of Henri IV of France and likewise of his murderer Ravaillac; teaching Latin to Titus Gates, whose "Popish Plot" ruined alike the hopes of the Catholic Stuarts and the Catholic Church in England. He took to task such mighty statesmen as Philip II of Spain, Louis XIV, Richelieu, and Mazarin. He won the love as well as the hatred of Voltaire, and could command Sobieski and Maximilian of Bavaria as though they were his servants. He held the hand of Queen Christina, the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, as she stepped from the throne of Sweden, to be free to tell her beads. He stood as counsellor at the side of Japanese and Chinese Emperors, and ruled as Prime Minister in Trichinopoli.

He intrigued to place Mary Queen of Scots on the throne of England, and twenty years later associated with Guy Fawkes who sought to murder her son. He put Jansenius on the'index; befriended Galileo; set up inquisitions; denounced Garibaldi. He corresponded with Napoleon; conversed with Washington; enjoyed the friendship and hospitality of Frederick the Great and Catherine the Great. He glided from court to court, a mild-eyed diplomat; to arrange royal espousals; to negotiate loans for papal wars; to foment rebellions; to secure treaty-privileges. In one city, as asso-

CARDINAL RICHELIEU, WHO CROSSED SWORDS WITH JESUIT POLITICIANS AND DIPLOMATS.

ciate of princes, he rode forth on a gaily caparisoned charger with the grace and elegance of Beau Brummell; in another he searched for plague-stricken victims to carry them to a comfortable refuge.

Like Bruno he preached with fiery eloquence in mountain villages, and like Savonarola he denounced the sins of the elite of great cities. Elsewhere he disputed with acrimonious logic against Dominican theologians in the presence of Pope and Cardinals. As schoolmaster he robbed the humanists of the modern flavour of their erudition, and made classical culture an instrument of reaction. In the church he posed as a stiff-necked grandee, an unbloody inquisitor, chaperon and duenna to a long succession of Popes. Before the world he displayed religious wares which he disposed of with consummate salesmanship, using all the advertising arts of a Jewish ghetto. To those who confronted him with the question, "By what authority?" he had one unfailing answer. He drew forth from the satchel that he carried with him a mass of venerable parchments, dog-eared and musty, which when deciphered showed, above the signatures of various Popes, that the bearer was the faithful servant of the Church, and that in every place he was known to breathe forth "the good odour of Christ." /

In the Romance of the Jesuits there is abundant material for students of economics, ethics, and psychology. There are things calculated to stir the socialist to fury, to amuse the cynic, to delight the salacious, and to puzzle the philosopher. Running through it all one finds the ever-present enigma; the contradiction inseparable from Jesuitism; the interchanging of opposites; wealth that is evangelical poverty; equivocation that is truth; laxity that is purity of doctrine; wrongs rendered good by the end in view; gross disobedience that is holy docility; rotting idleness that is labour in the vineyard; astute and cunning diplomacy that is dovelike simplicity; heroism that is the offspring of fear; chilling indifference that is the charity of Christ.

From so much contradiction in the Jesuits there resulted most contradictory reactions. In every country, in every generation, there appeared an attitude towards the Jesuits of love mixed with hate; of trust mixed with utter distrust; of praise mixed with contumely; of kindness mixed with persecution; of boundless generosity mixed with ruthless spoliation. The Jesuits set themselves up as paragons

ao The Jesuit Enigma

of contradictory qualities; as living syntheses of discordant tendencies; as Christs who were Machiavellis; as beggars who were Croesuses; as modernists who were reactionaries; and they became, as the Scripture phrase has it, "signs to be contradicted."

One cannot be surprised to find in the story of the Jesuits a salient note of failure. They set out to show that human nature was malleable, and that saints could be produced by the systematic asceticism of the Spiritual Exercises. Instead of establishing their thesis they proved once for all the truth of its contradiction, and in their own persons they produced, not saints, but as Clement XIV declared, mischief-makers. They set out to bulwark the Pope of Rome, and to supply an invincible regiment of defence around the Chair of Peter. Their enterprise brought more trouble on Rome than security; they proved a source of weakness rather than of strength and the gallant regiment was disbanded. They set out to crush Protestantism and they gave it a new lease of life. They set out to reform education, and they proved a barrier to science and progress. They set out to teach Catholic youth their religion, in France, Portugal, Germany, Mexico and many other countries. And in so doing they aroused so much hostility and intolerance, that in these countries to-day Catholic children have not even a fair-play opportunity of learning their catechism. Failure in every direction, failure after initial stupendous triumphs, has dogged the path of this ill-fated Order. And one is forced by a consideration of its history to wonder what aberration of mind swayed a Pope to say, as he glanced over the Jesuit Constitutions "digitus Dei est hie" ("the finger of God is here").

The spirit in which most writers tell the oft-told story is puzzling. Sides are taken; extreme views for or against are expressed; and the enigma of Jesuitism is forgotten, and remains unsolved. Pro-Jesuit writers suppress facts unfavourable to the Order, and distort what they cannot suppress. They write on the whole in the spirit of John the Evangelist to prove the divinity of the subject of their story. Anti-Jesuit writers dwell morbidly on the seamy side of Jesuit history, and kill the interest of this fascinating romance. Thomas Carlyle, for example, sees hell let loose in Jesuitism. "Where you meet a man believing in the salutary nature of falsehoods, or the divine authority of things doubtful, and fancying that

to serve the good cause he must call the devil to his aid, there is a follower of Un-saint Ignatius. Not till the last of these men has vanished from the earth will our account with Ignatius be quite settled, and his black militia have got their 'mittimus* to chaos again." It matters after all, very little, whether this or that particular scandal be true or false, whether Fr. Schall, the great mis-sioner, had Chinese wives or not; whether Fr. la Valette purchased slaves in the market-place to work his Martinique plantations or not; whether or not the Jesuits were immediately responsible for the massacre of Thorn. What is of importance is to discover, by a careful analysis of Jesuitism, how far it is consonant with the spirit of Christ, and how far that peculiar attitude of superiority and self-righteousness that characterises the Order is pathological.

The story of the Jesuits, unlike that of other religious Orders, belongs only in part to the Church. The Jesuits deliberately broke away in so many respects from Church traditions, and immersed themselves to such an extent in worldly affairs, that their story belongs to general history. They forged a new instrument which changed the destinies of races. It was a subtle commingling of diplomacy and religion, knowledge and inspiration, gold and grace. They boasted of wearing hair-shirts under their gay apparel, and of conveying religious instruction through the elegancies of Horace and Tibullus. They poured large treasures of gold into the hands of Tilly and Wallenstein that they might smite the bodies of heretics, while they shed tears in fervent prayer for the souls that were to be driven forth by the swords of the Catholics. Viewed from another angle, the instrument that the Jesuits created was a sword of wit. They strove to overcome the enemies of the Church by hexameters and syllogisms. Strategy, scholarship, nicely powdered perruques, elegant diction, and a royal Duke for a General, were to aid the Jesuits to stampede the vulgar Lutheran hordes. Franciscans and Dominicans might do well to await "the breathing of the Holy Spirit" to help them in their Apostolic enterprises, but the Jesuits' eye was steadily fixed on the political barometer and the social register.

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As a young man, the Spanish noble, Ignatius Loyola, had been "affected and extravagant about his hair and dress, and consumed

with the desire of winning glory, and would seem to have been sometimes involved in those darker intrigues for which handsome young courtiers too often think themselves licensed." a A fair lady, "higher in rank than a countess or a duchess," was his passion, but chivalrously Ignatius locked away her name in his heart. Perhaps he never had the courage to woo her; perhaps he wooed her in vain and his early escapades may have been efforts to release the pent-up emotions that belonged to her. Had she accepted his advances, no doubt the Jesuit Order would never have been founded, nor would Ignatius, as Carlyle cruelly puts it, have tried so "many plans to make his ego available on Earth."

Ignatius was wounded when fighting against the French at Pampeluna in 1521. He was carried to his ancestral castle in a valley of the Pyrenees. Crude surgery inflicted upon him agonising suffering, and left him crippled with a limp. During his convalescence he asked for romances of chivalry, but none were to be found in the musty cupboards of his home. He was forced to read the only books available, Ludolph of Saxony's Life of Christy and the Flowers of the Saints. He was deeply moved; his conversion began; and he set himself "to write a book with great diligence putting the words of Christ in red ink, and those of Our Lady in blue."

Visions came to him. His imagination glowed with desire to outdo the achievements of the saints about whom he had been reading. Cripple though he was he could still fight great battles, and win the love, of a lady, fairer far than his erstwhile dream. He could lead an army, if needs be, to fight for the King of Kings, and win lasting and substantial glory. The Romance of the Jesuits had begun. ,, %'

Ignatius' sword still hangs in the shrine of Our^|^^¥, m the Monastery of Montserrat. It was there that Ignatius a^|; a night of vigil broke with his past and clothed himself in pilgrim's garb. From thence he set out on foot to Manresa, where in a cave he gave himself up to penance and prayer. He experienced' all the joys and all the terrors of unrestrained mysticism. Utter, dejection, elans of love, visions of peace and visions of horror, visits from angels and visits from devils, scruples, suicidal tendencies and insight into

1 Catholic Encyclopedia.

mysteries. Distraught, almost crazy, he fought his lonely fight, afraid of hell, in terror of damnation and appalled at the prospect of a long life of penance. And yet he could see no way out of his dilemma save by perseverance. "Had he been a good man," says the unsympathetic Carlyle, "he should have consented at this point to be damned. ... To cower, silent and ashamed into some dim corner and resolve to make henceforth as little noise as possible. That would have been modest, salutary . . . for this degraded, ferocious Human Pig, one of the most perfect scoundrels."

From Manresa, Ignatius set out for the Holy Land. He carried with him the nucleus of his famous little book, The Spiritual ExerciseSy and besides that a pilgrim's staff. He was not allowed to remain in the Holy Land, so he returned to Spain and began to study Latin at a boys' school. We find him at Barcelona, Alcala and Salamanca (1527), nowhere regarded as "a most perfect scoundrel," but everywhere received as a Saint. He preached, studied, reformed convents, gathered followers around him, and worked for the poor in hospitals.

His progress in learning, however, was too slow, so^'n 1528 he started for Paris University, hoping there to succeed better at his studies. He remained seven years at Paris, becoming a Master of Arts and a Licentiate of Theology in 1535.

Meanwhile a great change had come over Ignatius. He was no longer impulsive, temperamental and violent. The riotousness of his early religious emotions had given place to calm intensity. He had become practiced in repression, and could now completely dominate every instinct and affection. He had cultivated a very attractive gentleness of disposition, and could adapt himself with facility to men of different character. He planned out everything ahead, and had no little prudence and foresight. He was well equipped with "holy wiles" and succeeded in gathering together a small group of clever and spirited men, the nucleus of the future Society. Francis Xavier he won by flattery and service; Faber by piety; Salmeron, Lainez, Bobadilla and Simon Rodriguez were the others. He organised his band prudently, slowly and very secretly, and finally swore them in on August 15, 1534, at a shrine at Montmartre in Paris.

In many respects the gathering was unique and significant. It

was the first time the associates had met in common. The purpose of the association was vague, yet they bound themselves by vow. They were to go to the Holy Land and convert the infidels, but they were far from sure whether or not they could ever get there. Still less did they know how they were to set about converting the "unspeakable Turk." The meeting, although obviously the initiation of a religious movement, was kept secret from ecclesiastical authorities. Ignatius was resolved not to be interfered with. There was to be no head or leader, no superior, yet every one present knew Ignatius as the moving spirit and authoritative voice. There was adventure, excitement and Holy Joy in the hearts of all, and the vows were fervently made. The rising sun threw rays through the mullioned windows of the little shrine, lending radiance to the earnest faces of the kneeling students. When Fr. Faber, the only priest among them, raised the Host above their heads, to solemnise their vows, Ignatius' heart throbbed with pride and hope. His great campaign had begun; the path to everlasting glory was'opened to him.

Three years later the associates gathered in Venice (January, 1537), rea( tyj if possible, to start on their journey for the Holy Land. They had increased in numbers. Le Jay, Codure, Broet and a few others had joined the band. Codure and Broet were French; Faber and Le Jay were Swiss; the rest were Spaniards and Portuguese. All looked upon Ignatius as the Leader, but they had made no promise of obedience to him.

A year passed and they failed to make their way to the Holy Land. The port of Venice was closed because of war with the Turk, and no effort was made to follow another route. Meanwhile Ignatius had begun to see the foolishness of his first plan. He now resolved to proceed to Rome and place himself and his followers at the disposal of the Pope. It is hard to doubt that he had by this time determined to found a religious order, but if so he said nothing about it to the rest. Van Dyke, 2 who made a careful and sympathetic study of Ignatius, absolves him from all suspicion of concealing his plans from his followers. Quoting contemporary evidence to support his view he writes: "We may be glad that there is such strong contemporary evidence against a deliberate effort on the

2 Ignatius Loyola, p. 133.

part of Ignatius to use reserve and not frankly express his ideas or unroll before the eyes of his comrades the plan he had conceived." But Van Dyke admits that "he did not seem to have been much disappointed over the blocking of that long-cherished plan, adopted by his comrades in the oath of Montmartre."

The sudden change of plans made it important for Ignatius to secure a sign of divine good-will and protection. His followers were no doubt in need of some proof of his contact with Heaven. Thereupon came visions to Ignatius and inspirations. He.received divine intimation that he was to call his band of followers "The Company of Jesus." Christ, too, appeared to him and promised him that He would be propitious at Rome.

In Ignatius subconscious there was firmly rooted the dream-wish of leading, as soldier chief, a gallant regiment into battle. And the name "Company," from its Spanish synonym, contains this implication. It was besides a bold, ambitious name, calculated to excite wonder and jealousy. It was skilfully chosen for it carried the suggestion, so important in those days, of absolute orthodoxy. What Catholic would venture to doubt the virtue or orthodoxy of Companipns of Jesus? And even to this day, so powerful and enduring is the suggestion latent in the name, that any who venture to oppose the teachings of the Jesuits, or to criticise them, are ipso facto proven guilty of heresy in the minds of Catholics.

Ignatius' vision of Christ, who promised protection and favour, is exceedingly interesting from a psychological point of view. It showed that Ignatius had suggested himself into the firm conviction, never thenceforth to be shaken, that "his side" was "Christ's side," and that the interests of the Order he was to found, were identical with those of Christ. His extraordinary persuasion of "righteousness" became a legacy of the Order, and made many associate the Jesuits with "Illuminati." This conviction in Ignatius' mind is well illustrated, though unconsciously, in a sentence Ignatius wrote a little later describing Jesuit activity at Rome. "In this way," he wrote, "we sought to gain men of learning and position to our side or to sfeak more correctly to God's side."

Apropos, Van Dyke writes: "The chief source of his (Ignatius') strength of will was his certain conviction that God had begun soon after his conversion to teach him as a boy is taught at school,

had given him direct revelations of the mysteries of the faith, had led him to abandon his original plan of leading his followers to Jerusalem, had revealed to him in a vision the name of the Company, had guided him in the details of writing the Constitutions and was now so close that he could find Him, f whenever needful.' " 8

Ignatius' confidence in himself and his cause ensured success at Rome, all the more so since his training in diplomacy at the Spanish Court had taught him how to win a Pope's approval. He first paid homage to the Pope and obtained permission for himself and his followers to work in Rome. Next he put the Pope under an obligation by loaning him the most brilliant of his followers. Then he set himself to make powerful friends, to conciliate enemies and to edify Rome. Ortiz, the Spanish Ambassador, had above all to be won over from hostility to friendship. Ignatius worked upon him, and succeeded in getting him to make the "Spiritual Exercises." Unfortunately the pious meditations proved too severe a strain for the nerves of the old diplomat and he fell into melancholy, obsessed by a devil-phobia. Thereupon Ignatius tucked up his cassock and danced some lively Basque dances to brighten Ortiz' spirits.

In 1538 a famine occurred in Rome, and an excellent opportunity was afforded Ignatius' followers of giving proof of their fervour. They turned their house into a hospital and lodged hundreds of starving beggars. Paul III heard everything. He was pleased with the young priests. He was a serious-minded Pope, although si-moniacal. He had within a week of his election to the Papacy made two of his grandsons, one fourteen, the other sixteen years of age, Cardinals, and he was lavish in his gifts to his family. His morals had not been overstrict as Cardinal, but as Pope he set about reforming the Church. And when Ignatius presented to him, in 1539, a tentative "formula" for the foundation of a new Order, he received it sympathetically.

In drawing up this "formula" Ignatius and his companions had spent many months. At first they thought it better to have no rules, to be guided by the Holy Spirit alone, but finally they decided for rules and obedience, and the standing of "religious." They wanted to be in religion, but not as other religious were. They wanted to be free to do special works for the Church, and not to be tied down 8 Op. cit., p. 336.

The Romance of the Jesuits '27

4

to singing the Office in choir, and to a special habit, and special penances. Their aim was to be a body of light infantry at the beck and call of the Pope, and they resolved to take a special vow of obedience to the Pope, calculating no doubt that this would be for him an attractive feature in their "formula." In the first "formula" there was a democratic provision. Decisions were to! be taken by ballot, but this was got rid of later on by Ignatius. There were in all sixteen resolutions in the "formula" of 1539, an ^ they contained the gist of the subsequent Jesuit Constitutions. Paul III handed the document to three Cardinals to be examined, and only one of them was in favour of establishing the new Order. Later on we shall see how Ignatius got to work, using prayer and "other means" and won over the recalcitrant Cardinal Guidiccioni. In 1540, by the Bull, Regimini Militantis y Paul III approved the Jesuit Order.

It is not too much to say that at the birth of the Society of Jesus diplomacy proved an invaluable midwife. There was less of the atmosphere of Bethlehem than of Versailles about this birth, and one can doubt if the song of the angels was "peace and good-will to men." Neither did the offspring like the other children of the family of the Church; Franciscans, Dominicans, Benedictines and the rest, represent distinct maternal traits, simple poverty, homely devout preaching and pious seclusion with the chanting of office. The new child was more like a foundling, or a strayling that had forced itself upon the family and begged for a chance to make good. The Society of Jesus was not a natural growth and outcome of ascetic tendencies in the Church, but rather a graft-shoot inserted in the Church by the strong and dexterous hand of Ignatius.

Once established as a religious Order, the Company of Jesus began to draw up a permanent Constitution. Ignatius took the chief part in this work, and the tradition of the Jesuits has it that he was inspired, "In making up his mind (upon the Constitutions)," writes Fr. Pollen, S.J., "Ignatius was marvellously aided by heavenly lights, intelligence and visions. If, as we surely infer, the whole work was equally assisted by grace, its heavenly inspiration will not be doubted" *

The General, executive-in-chief, absolute in authority, was elected

for life. He could only be deposed for grave crime, against morals or the Constitutions, or for mental decay. He, with the advice of Assistants, was to divide up the Society into Provinces, and to appoint Provincial and Local Superiors. All authority flowed from him. There were to be four classes of members. (l) Professed Fathers, the Knights, the elite, who made solemn vows, including a special vow of obedience to the Pope. They alone were to be given higher offices. They were to be the House of Lords, the Senators, the Patricians. (2) Coadjutor Fathers, who were to help the Knights in battle, and to do the rough ministerial work. They were the Plebeians, and only took simple vows. (3) Scholastics, who in time were to be ordained, and whose rank as Professed or Coadjutors would depend upon the virtue and ability they showed. (4) Lay-brothers, who were to do domestic work. They were the simple, devoted slaves of the Order. They were never ordained as priests. The novices were either "scholastic novices" or "lay-brother novices."

The General could dismiss at will any member, without trial, but no member could leave the Order without his consent. All were bound by vow to the Order, though the Order was not bound to them. The work of the Order was missions, teaching, educating the young in their religion, and doing special service for the Pope. Obedience of the most absolute kind was imposed on all; it was to be the distinctive virtue of the Order. There was to be no choir, or chapter, or special dress, or common penances. Each one had to open his whole soul, past and present, to whatever Superior he had. Each one was to denounce wrong-doing in others, and in himself, and to rejoice if he was denounced by others. Government was to be secret, and there was to be no voting for Superiors save at the election of the General. All were to be ready to go at once wherever they were sent, and to take the order of a Superior as the order of God.

In the course of this volume we shall become much better acquainted with these "inspired" Constitutions. Suffice it here to quote again from Van Dyke: "Ignatius' ideal was that of a strictly policed barracks with all free time suspended. No one might leave the house or receive or send a letter without the permission of his Superior. Every month every one wrote all faults he noticed in any

other to the head of the house. If he noted any serious faults in the head of the house he told them to Ignatius, who never revealed the name of his informant." 5 Ignatius was elected the first General in 1541, and he ruled until his death in 1556, laying down the tradition of government in the Society. He was exceedingly vigilant, securing reports about his subjects from every source; rigorously insistant upon discretion; and a severe disciplinarian. He punished Bobadilla for imprudence in censuring a decree of Charles V, and Rodriguez for insubordination. He reprimanded both Lainez and Francis Xavier, and dismissed many from the Society. Ignatius experienced failures as well as successes. His missions to the Congo and Abyssinia failed; while his emissaries to Ireland, Broet and Salmeron, fled for their lives in fear of Henry VIII's priest-hunters. On the other hand,, Xavier, whom he sent to the East in 1540, had astounding success in Goa, Malabar, the Moluccas and Japan. t In Brazil a prosperous mission was set up. At home in Europe, Ignatius established nearly a hundred houses and colleges, and saw the membership of his Order increase to a thousand. In 1552 he opened the famous "Collegium Germanicum," to train missionaries to fight heresy in Germany. The colleges~at Messina, Padua, Palermo and Naples were also founded during his Generalate.

While Ignatius was directing the fortunes of the new Order at Rome, individual Jesuits' led spectacular lives and scored striking successes. Faber, and later Canisius, in Germany helped to create a counter-reformation and to stem the tide of apostasy from the Church. Lainez and Salmeron astonished the Fathers assembled at Trent by their learning. In Spain, the_name and prestige of Duke Francis Borgia, whom Ignatius received into the Society, did much to spread Jesuit influence. In Portugal, Simon Rodriguez held sway in the royal court, and throughout Italy the Jesuits proved to be wonder-workers. There were scandals here and there and difficulties with bishops. Jesuits were excommunicated in Toledo by the Archbishop for hearing confessions without his permission, and at Saragossa for building a church beside that of the Augustinians. At Coimbra the wealth of the Jesuits resulted in "frivolity-and good living," and many Portuguese Jesuits had to be expelled.

5 Op. cit., p. 338.

An understanding of the character of Ignatius is necessary for an understanding of the Order he founded; in it are reflected many of his personal characteristics. In the first place, he was extremely conservative and reactionary, but he was nevertheless a man of rare prudence and foresight. He was exceedingly practical and methodical, and proceeded with extreme caution. He attained to remarkable self-control, and indeed went so far in this respect that he almost dehumanised himself. In spite of his early indiscretions, which were considered by the Superiors who succeeded him "unfit for publication," he miraculously acquired the virtue of perfect chastity. A vision, as he tells us in his autobiography, had cured him of all carnal thoughts and inclinations. Speaking, as he did in his autobiography in the third person, he said: "He saw clearly the image of Our Lady with the Holy Child Jesus, at whose sight for a notable time he felt a surpassing sweetness which eventually left him with such a loathing for his past sins, and especially for those of the flesh, that every unclean imagination seemed blotted out from his soul, and never again was there the least consent to any carnal thought." He grew to be a bald old man with dark piercing eyes and a sallow drawn face, in which a tense air of untiring energy and infinite resolution lurked. There was, nevertheless, great calmness and tranquillity about all his movements, enhanced by the nobility of his bearing, which commanded respect and reverence. He used to spend but four hours in bed, followed by four hours of meditation and prayer. Then began a busy day of writing letters, interviewing and hearing reports. He was slow and methodical in his work, doing everything very carefully and thoroughly. He could be very sweet and gentle with subordinates or ruthlessly severe. He was interested in social works, and made some novel incursions into that field, experimenting in poor laws, and building a hostel for prostitutes. But he had no real insight into the solution of social problems. He did not foresee the oncoming of democracy nor did he recognise any rights in the workingman save the right to practise the Catholic religion. He was a firm believer in the divine right of kings, and in the necessary permanence of autocracy, and he built his hopes of the future of the Order on the continuance of the era of privilege.

IGNATIUS LOYOLA, FOUNDER OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

An understanding of the character of Ignatius is necessary for an understanding of the Order he founded; in it are reflected many of his personal characteristics. In the first place, he was extremely conservative and reactionary, but he was nevertheless a man of rare prudence and foresight. He was exceedingly practical and methodical, and proceeded with extreme caution. He attained to remarkable self-control, and indeed went so far in this respect that he almost dehumanised himself. In spite of his early indiscretions, which were considered by the Superiors who succeeded him "unfit for publication," he miraculously acquired the virtue of perfect chastity. A vision, as he tells us in his autobiography, had cured him of all carnal thoughts and inclinations. Speaking, as he did in his autobiography in the third person, he said: "He saw clearly the image of Our Lady with the Holy Child Jesus, at whose sight for a notable time he felt a surpassing sweetness which eventually left him with such a' loathing for his past sins, and especially for those of the flesh, that every unclean imagination seemed blotted out from his soul, and never again was there the least consent to any carnal thought." He grew to be a bald old man with dark piercing eyes and a sallow drawn face, in which a tense air of untiring energy and infinite resolution lurked. There was, nevertheless, great calmness and tranquillity about all his movements, enhanced by the nobility of his bearing, which commanded respect and reverence. He used to spend but four hours in bed, followed by four hours of meditation and prayer. Then began a busy day of writing letters, interviewing and hearing reports. He was slow and methodical in his work, doing everything very carefully and thoroughly. He could be very sweet and gentle with subordinates or ruthlessly severe. He was interested in social works, and made some novel incursions into that field, experimenting in poor laws, and building a hostel for prostitutes. But he had no real insight into the solution of social problems. He did not foresee the oncoming of democracy nor did he recognise any rights in the workingman save the right to practise the Catholic religion. He was a firm believer in the divine right of kings, and in the necessary permanence of autocracy, and he built his hopes of the future of the Order on the continuance of the era of privilege.

IGNATIUS LOYOLA, FOUNDER OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

The Romance of the Jesuits £i

Ignatius deliberately initiated the Order's policy of cultivating the favour of the rich and powerful, and of securing concessions and favours from friendly Popes. He believed that without the patronage of Kings, Princes and Popes the progress of the Society would be too slow. He induced the Pope to take the Society under his special protection and to make it independent of bishops. He got it privileged vis-a-vis of other Orders so that Jesuits could override cherished rights of other Orders. This was a short-sighted policy of Ignatius. It was bound, as Clement XIV afterwards pointed out, to lead to internal and external trouble. "The tenor and even the terms of these Apostolic Constitutions, (privileging the Society)," wrote Clement, "show that even at its inception the Society saw spring within it various germs of discord and jealousies, which not only divided the members, but prompted them to exalt themselves above other religious Orders, the secular clergy, the universities, the colleges, etc." No more rotten foundation could have been chosen to build upon than that of privileges and the favour of princes, yet such was the foundation chosen by Ignatius.

Ignatius' social outlook, his idea of nobility and chivalry, led him into another grave mistake. This was the class distinction that he introduced between the "tyrojessed, fathers" and the "spiritual coadjutors." The former, the Patricians, were supposed to be paragons of virtue and learning, and alone fitted to hold high office or to teach exalted subjects like theology.

This system of "grades" in the Society proved disastrous. After a while the "professed" began to grow fat and kick. They would not live in "professed houses" as they were supposed to do. The uncertain maintenance of these houses (they were to be wholly dependent on alms), did not suit them; it made dinner hour too problematic. Again they preferred to allow the "coadjutors" to do the work, and took their ease. In their pride they looked down with contempt on the coadjutors and they had to be warned by a general Congregation not to sneer at them. Fr. Cordara, S.J., the historiographer of the Order at the time of the Suppression, writes thus in his Memoirs of these "Apostles": "Many of our 'Apostles' wished for a quiet and inactive life under the shade of the colleges; they believed they had worked very hard when they had spent the

whole morning in hearing the confessions of a few pious women (mulierculse). . . . Many of them after preaching once a week to a pious congregation of noblemen or merchants, devoted the rest of their time to the care of their bodies or to reading, or else spent it in intercourse with friends or in unprofitable conversation. I myself have known 'Apostles' who not only shunned all labour and trouble, but were more effeminate than women; who thought themselves very ill-used if they had to forego their morning chocolate or their after-dinner nap; or if they were deprived at any time of food or sleep. And yet these were men by birth and education unaccustomed to luxury. On the contrary they had from youth upwards received a harsh, even a hard training. Their effeminacy was acquired in the Society of Jesus."

There were many other flaws in the conception of Ignatius besides the system of "grades" and the policy of "privilege and protection." To such, however, we shall refer later. He died in 1556, in the odour of sanctity, haying launched the Society on its strange and wonderful career. He has been spoken of by many with contempt, notably by Carlyle, who saw in him "the poison fountain from which all these rivers of bitterness that now submerge the world have flown." Van Dyke, on the other hand, concludes his study of Ignatius with these words: "Who of all those who have confessed themselves followers of Christ has been more faithful than Ignatius Loyola to the ideal which seemed to him true?"

One of the most interesting incidents of the generalate of Ignatius was the reception into the Society of Francis Borgia, Duke of Gandia, a Spanish Grandee of the highest rank. He was received into the Order soon after the Duchess died, although allowed to spend a few years settling his vast estates. He endowed many Jesuit colleges and bestowed immense wealth on Ignatius. In 1550 when he came to Rome to take the habit, Ignatius diplomatically overlooked the fact that as a Jesuit he was bound by rules of Common Life. "He was lodged sumptuously in the Jesuit house," writes Fr. Campbell, S.J., "part of which Ignatius fitted up at great expense to do honour to the illustrious guest." He was given a very free hand by Ignatius and was absolved from obedience to Superiors. He returned to Spain and caused great trouble by his autocratic ways. Fr. Araoz, S.J., Ignatius' nephew,

had very fierce disputes with him, but Ignatius, foreseeing his greatness, bore with him patiently. His first public act in the Society was to petition a General Congregation to have the monastic prison system introduced into the Society. Subsequently Borgia became the third General of the Order. He was canonised in 1670.

Hardly had Ignatius died when trouble began in the Order. Ignatius had neglected to nominate a Vicar-General, and Lainez was voted into that office by a few professed fathers who were in Rome. This incensed the fiery Bobadilla. He accused Lainez of usurping authority and appealed to the Pope. The disgruntled Rodriguez and the gentle Broet joined Bobadilla. They circulated letters, "libelli," against Lainez, and claimed a share in the government of the Society. Finally the Pope sent Cardinal Carpi to settle the dispute, and after two years of trouble Lainez was elected General. After his election he had to face one of those constantly recurring crises in the history of the Society, the efforts of an "unfriendly" Pope to change certain of the Society's "revealed" Constitutions.

The Pope in question, Paul IV, hated Spaniards and regarded all Jesuits as Spaniards. He tried in vain to get rid of the Order in toto by combining it with the Theatines. Next he sought to reform the Order, but found there were limits to Jesuit obedience. He commanded that Jesuits should sing Office in Choir like other Orders and that their Generals should only be elected for a period of three years. Lainez and Salmeron called on him to enlighten him; a proceeding that became the custom of the Order in similar cases. The reception of the emissaries was far from friendly, but a little time was gained and the Pope "providentially" died before he could enforce his will. Later on we shall come across similar "providential deaths" in the cases of Sixtus V and Innocent XI.

The intrusion of the Jesuit General Lainez at the "Colloquy of Poissy" in 1561 was an event of some moment and indicative of the growing part that the Society was to play in world affairs. The Colloquy was an effort of Catherine de Medici to reconcile the Catholics and Huguenots of France. Things were going fairly well when Lainez arrived, but in his very first address he threatened Catherine with dire evils if she disgraced France by tolerating heresy. As a result the Colloquy broke up and angry parties wefeT

formed. His reproaches addressed to the Queen Mother brought "the tears to her eyes," and he foretold the ruin of the realm if she did not drive out "the wolves, foxes, serpents and assassins." "3

During the generalate of Lainez the Order reached a membership of thirty-five hundred, which was divided into eighteen provinces. This swift growth was maintained under Francis Borgia, who succeeded Lainez as General. Borgia had, like Lainez, to fight a Pope, the gentle Saint Pius V, who insisted on Jesuits singing the Office. In the end they had to submit (while awaiting the Pope's death), but their submission consisted in singing choir, after a fashion, in two out of the one hundred and fifty institutions of the Order.

We shall deal with only one other general, Claudius Acquaviva, (1581 to 1615) as he has been called "the Saviour of the Society," and as he left his stamp deeply impressed on the Order. Acquaviva was only thirty-eight years of age when elected General. He was son of the Duke of Atri, and had been a page in the Papal Court. He was highly gifted in every way, and had been called (by Cardinal Ormanetto) "the finest ornament of the Apostolic College." In entering the Order he abandoned a sure hope of the Roman Purple. He was exceedingly astute, a diplomat to his finger-tips, and well versed in all the arts of secret government. He perfected the espionage system of the Society, and strengthened the hands of Superiors, rendering the subjection of individual Jesuits to their Superiors as complete as possible. He drew up an extraordinary document called Industrie?, a treatise on soul-healing, to which we shall devote a chapter, and he drew up in its final, unchangeable form the Jesuit doctrine and method of education known as the Ratio Studiorum. Endowed with extraordinary personal charm, and with infinite sweetness and patience of manner, he was, nevertheless, an extreme reactionary and absolutist, a tyrant, almost a bloody tyrant, posing as the gentlest of modest monks.

Acquaviva had hardly taken in hands the reins of office when what is called by Jesuit writers "the Great Storm" broke out in the Spanish Province of the Society. It was open and fierce rebellion, backed by the keenest wits and the most venerable personalities of the Order. It was supported from outside by Philip II

of Spain, the Spanish Inquisition and to a great extent by Pope Sixtus V and later by Pope Clement VIII. "The greatest service that Acquaviva rendered the Society," writes Fr. Campbell, S.J., "and for which it will ever bless his memory is that he saved it from destruction in a fight that ran through the thirty years of his generalate and in which he found opposed to him Popes, Kings and Princes, along with the terrible authority of the Spanish Inquisition, and worst of all a number of discontented members of the Order, banded together and resorting to the most reprehensible tactics to alter completely the character of the Institute." 6 The "discontented members," described later by the Fifth General Congregation as "pests; false sons; disturbers of the peace; revolutionists; degenerate sons," included Fr. Araoz, Ignatius' nephew, to whom the Saint had written, "if I doubted your fidelity I know no man in whom I could trust"; Cardinal Toletus of whom Gregory XIV had written, "We affirm in all truthfulness that he is incon-testably the most learned man living to-day; we have a greater opinion still of his integrity and his irreproachable life"; and others whom Clement XIV described as "conspicuous for their knowledge and foety" Whatever the merits of the "revolutionaries," and whatever the sympathies of the Popes and Kings in their efforts to reform the Constitutions, Acquaviva triumphed and ordered many expulsions from the Society. Few of the "rebels" were however expelled, as outside influence'was too strongly in their favour. ,

Under Acquaviva prosperous missions were established in Chile, Paraguay, Canada, China and the Philippine Islands and the membership of the Society mounted to over thirteen thousand, divided into thirty-two provinces. The Society now owned five hundred and fifty-nine houses and its wealth was enormous. This increase was maintained steadjly until the time of the Suppression in 1773, when the membership reached its highest figure, 22,589, and the number of its colleges, residences and mission-stations was about fifteen hundred.

The circumstances leading up to the Suppression of the Order by Pope Clement XIV; the manner in which the Order evaded the Brief of Suppression and continued an illegitimate existence 6 The Jesuits, p. 200.

in Prussia, Russia and China; and the subsequent re-establishment of the Order by Pope Pius VII in 1814 will be referred to during the course of this work. The two centuries which passed between the foundation of the Society in 1540 and its Suppression in 1773 were full of varied activity and adventure; adventure on the, mission-field; excursions into politics; exploitation of new theories of morality founded on "probabilism," gigantic educational enterprises, prolific writing on theology, Jesuit asceticism and classical literature.

It may be well at this point to give some inkling as to the nature of Jesuit activities in education, on the missions and in literature. In doing so we shall freely quote from Fr. Campbell, S.J., 7 who in turn quotes from Bohmer-Monod, 8 and others.

"In 1556 eight fathers and twelve scholastics made their appearance at Ingolstadt in Bavaria. The poison of heresy was immediately ejected, and the old Church took on a new life. The transformation was so prodigious that it would seem rash to attribute it to these few strangers, but their strength was in inverse proportion to their numbers. They captured the head and the heart of the country, from the Court and local University down to the people, and for centuries they held that position. After Ingolstadt, came Dillingen and Wiirzburg. Munich College was founded in 1559, and in 1602 it had nine hundred pupils. The Jesuits succeeded in converting the Court into a Convent, and Munich into a German Rome. In 1597 they were entrusted with the superintendence of all the primary schools of the country, and they established new colleges at Altoetting and Mindelheim. In 1627 fifty of them went into the Upper Palatinate, which was entirely Protestant, and in ten years they had established four new colleges. ... In Bohemia and Moravia . . . the twenty colleges and eleven seminaries which they controlled in 1679 proved at least that the higher education and the formation of ecclesiastics was altogether in their \ hands, and the seven establishments and colleges on the northern frontier overlooking Lutheran Saxony made it evident that they were determined to guard Bohemia against the poison of heresy. ... In Poland ... the Jesuits enjoyed incredible popularity. In 1600 the college at Polotsk had four hundred students, all of

7 The Jesuits, pp. 346-7. 8 Les JJsuites.

whom were nobles; Vilna had eight hundred, mostly belonging to the Lithuanian nobility, and Kalisch had five hundred. Fifty years later all the higher education was in the hands of the Order, and Ignatius became literally the 'freceftor Polonice? and Poland the classic land of the royal scholarship of the North as Portugal was in the South. ... In India there were nineteen colleges and two seminaries; in Mexico fourteen colleges and two seminaries; in Brazil thirteen colleges and two seminaries; in Paraguay seven colleges. In 1640 the Society had in France sixty-five colleges, two academies, two seminaries, nine boarding schools, seven novitiates, four professed houses, sixteen residences and 2,050 members." The literary activity of the Order was no less great than its educational activity. It is claimed that there have been 120,000 Jesuit authors, and writes Fr. Campbell, "the inundation of Jesuit books grew so alarming that the enemies of the Church complained that it was a plot of the Jesuits, who, being unable to suppress other books, had determined to deluge die world with their own publications."* One Jesuit author, Fr. Kircher, "wrote about everything," publishing in Rome alone forty-four folio volumes. Each of the many Jesuit theologians fills a shelf or two, of theological libraries. Fr. Gretser went a little further and produced 229 different works, exclusive ^of thirty-nine MSS., which he left behind him. Jesuit scientists, Secchi, Clavius, Schneiner and others, also published their researches, and Jesuit grammars and editions (expurgated) of the classics abounded.

Perhaps the most remarkable and valuable literary work of the Jesuits is the Acta> Sanctorum of the "Bollandists." This work was begun early in the seventeenth century and has been continued to the present time, reaching sixty-six volumes of scholarly research into the lives of the saints. Alexander VII said of this work, in 1643, tnat "there never had been undertaken a work more glorious or more useful to the Church." It shows the potentiality for good of the continued and well-directed effort, of a perennial body of devoted scholars. The word "Bollandists" is derived from the name of Fr. Bollandus, who succeeded Fr. Rosweyde, the founder of the enterprise.

There is no doubt that the most romantic figures in Jesuit 368.

history are to be found among the great missionaries of the Order, whether in China, Japan, India, Canada, Brazil or the Congo.

Incredible devotion and heroism were displayed by Jesuit missionaries, and not unfrequently phenomenal successes attended their sacrifices. The journeyings of Isaac Jogues among the Iroquois;. of De Smet in the Rockies; of Andrada in Thibet; of Paez along the Nile, and the lives of such men as Beschi and Nobili in Madura are not only full of interest but compel profound admiration. Taking, as a type of heroic and original missionary work, that of Fr. Constant Beschi, who continued Fr. de Nobili's mission in Madura, we find the following: 10

"The most dazzling of these picturesque missionaries was undoubtedly the Italian, Constant Beschi, who arrived in Madura in 1700, one hundred years after de Nobili and twenty-eight after de Britto. He determined to surpass all the Saniassis or Brahmins in the austerity of his life. He remained in his house most of the time and would never touch anything that had life in it. On his forehead was the pottu of Sandanam and on his head the coulla, a sort of cylindrical headdress made of velvet. He was girt with somen, was shod with the ceremonious wooden footgear, and pearls hung from his ears. He never went out except in a palanquin, in which tiger skins had to be placed for him to sit on, while a servant stood on either side fanning him with peacock feathers, and a third held above his head a silken parasol surmounted by a globe of gold. He was called 'The Great Viramamvuni,' and like Bonaparte he sat 'wrapped in the solitude of his own originality.' Not even a Jesuit could come near him or speak to him. A word of Italian never crossed his lips, but he plunged into Sanskrit, Telugu and Tamil, studied the poets of Hindostan, and wrote poems that conveyed to the Hindoos a knowledge of Christianity. For forty years he was publicly honoured as the 'Ismat Saniassi,' that is, the 'penitent without stain.' The Nabob of Trichinopoli was so enthusiastic about him that Beschi had to accept the post of Prime Minister, and thenceforth he never went abroad unless accompanied by thirty horsemen, twelve banner-bearers and a band of military music, while a long train of camels followed in the rear. If, on his way, any Jesuit who was looking after the Pariahs 10 Cf. Campbell, p. 234.

The Romance of the Jesuits '39

came across his path, there was no recognition on either side, but both must have been amused as the Jesuit in rags prostrated himself in the dust before the silk-robed Jesuit in the cavalcade, the outcast not daring to look at the great official, though perhaps they were intimate friends."

Such devotion as that of Beschi was productive of an immense number of conversions to Christianity, arid for a long time the Church flourished at Madura.

Then there began the inevitable display of pride and intolerance on the part of the Jesuits which led to the undoing of the splendid work of the brave and original pioneers, Nobili, Britto and Beschi. Missionaries belonging to other Orders were kept at bay, or denounced at Rome. Papal legates were treated with scant courtesy. Casuistry was employed to justify the practice of pagan rites and superstitions. Orders from Rome were disobeyed. And the primitive fervent missionary spirit was replaced by one of intrigue and contumacy. One papal legate in particular, Cardinal de Tournon, who condemned outright the Jesuit missionary methods known as "The Malabar and Chinese Rites," was apparently treated with the utmost indignity by the Jesuits, and Lazarist Missionary Fathers went so far as to assert that the Jesuits procured his death by poisoning. In Jesuit missions we have the characteristic mark of j Jesuit enterprise, initial stupendous success, culminating in disastrous« failure.

During the nineteenth century the Order had quickly regained its numerical strength, and its material power. To-day it numbers about nineteen thousand members, of whom about three thousand five hundred are in the States. Its wealth is again very great and the number and magnificence of its colleges and churches does not fall much short of pre-suppression days. It has again regained a position of stability and has renewed its old methods, though its external policy has been modified by the spread of democracy. There are few countries now in which it can pursue so spectacular a career as in its early days.

The nineteenth century has been called by Jesuit historians "A Century of Disasters" on account of its adverse fortunes in Spain, Portugal, Italy, France and Mexico. Only in Protestant, or at least non-Catholic, countries like England, Holland and America

has it made uninterrupted progress. In Catholic countries the Order took its stand with the old reactionary regime, and when the people, as in Spain, rose up against this survival of absolutist methods, the Jesuits were driven out, but they always managed to return again with some fluctuation of politics.

If we take Spain as an example of what has happened to the Order in Catholic countries since its restoration, we shall find various comings and goings, enrichments and spoliations.

In 1815 Ferdinand VII of Spain welcomed back the Jesuits and ordered the restoration of their estates. About one hundred and fifty members of the old Order answered the roll-call and began to open colleges and novitiates. In 1820 they had increased to four hundred. Meanwhile Ferdinand had torn up the liberal constitution that he had promised the people to observe, and had initiated a policy of stern repression. By 1820 the middle classes were in revolt, the Cortes were summoned, and with only one dissentient voice the expulsion of the Jesuits was decreed (August, 1820). A few years later the French King interfered and the Jesuits were restored. Ferdinand's regime was re-established. Of this regime Major Hume wrote: "Modern civilisation has seen no such instance of brutal blind ferocity." Under it however the Jesuits thrived. They were put in charge of the College of Nobles at Madrid, and the large military college at Segura.

Ferdinand died in 1833, an< ^ within two years a Liberal Ministry took up office and expelled the Jesuits. The Carlist wars followed and the majority of the Jesuits threw in their lot with Don Carlos, opening colleges in the regions which Don Carlos controlled. One Jesuit was his confessor; another was tutor to his children; while others served as chaplains to his troops. When the ill-fated Don Carlos was finally defeated the Jesuits lost their foothold in Spain, and only a few remained in the country, in hiding. In 1852, when the Concordat was signed the Jesuits were allowed to return, finding a patroness in the incompetent Isabella II, but when she was deposed in 1868 the Jesuits were again expelled. On the accession of Alfonso XII they returned and have ever since enjoyed wealth and power. At present they possess colleges and estates of enormous value, and are in favour with the Royal Family, but the Spanish Liberals are determined to expel them at the first oppor-

tunity. "They were expecting another expulsion in 1912," writes Fr. Campbell, "when the great war was threatening. Possibly the hideous scenes enacted in Portugal in 1912, (when the Jesuits were expelled from that country), were deemed sufficient by the revolutionaries for the time being."

The reason for these expulsions is said by the Jesuits to be hatred of the faith, and a desire to rob the Order of its "supposed" possessions} while Liberals say that the Jesuits bring these misfortunes upon themselves by their determined support of reaction, repression and absolutism.

The activities of the Jesuit Order to-day are as varied, if not as conspicuous as at the great epoch of its history, the close of the seventeenth century. Jesuits continue to conduct colleges and unir versities; to publish periodicals; to organise congregations and sodalities; to labour as missionaries in remote regions; to preach in great cathedrals; to act as spiritual guides for religious, and for secular priests; to assail heresy wherever it is to be found; and to censor trends of doctrine or learning that they consider dangerous or unorthodox. Their influence at Rome is still very great, and among the rich and noble of the Catholic Church they are looked upon as the most valiant defenders of the faith. But the bold enterprising spirit of the early followers of Ignatius is no more. The Order has deteriorated in many ways. It is less flexible; less in touch with the age; less sure of itself; less disinterested; and less imbued with the charity of Christ. It is more reactionary than ever; more wedded to formula and method; more tenacious of custom and tradition; more removed from its original Pauline aim of being "all things to all men."

Occasionally it wakes up to a sense of its decay and makes a bold bid to attract attention and to regain popularity, as when during the Great War it vociferously chanted the chauvinist songs of the warring nations, and recalled its missionaries from the Far East to don khaki and shoulder rifles. But in no way did it demonstrate its decadence more clearly than in thus allowing itself to be swept away from its mission of peace by the hysterical plaudits of war-mad nations.

• ••••••

In considering the "Jesuit Romance" as a whole one is struci

by its similarity with the Romance of the Jewish Nation. Jesuit and Jew have been throughout their history the fugitives of the Human Race; in turn, hunted, persecuted and hated. In the Old Testament the Jew was proud of being the Chosen of the Lord; predestined to Salvation; the Guardian of the Deposit of Faith.-He was self-righteous, stiff-necked and intolerant. Since the close of the Renaissance the Jesuit has worn the cloak of the offspring of David, going forth as the Prophet of the Almighty; the selected Companion of the Messiah; the Predestined one; self-righteous, unbending, arrogant and censorious. Jew and Jesuit believe in privilege and claim the fulfilment of their sacred bonds. "Give me my bond," quoth Shylock. It is true that the Jews of old crucified Christ, while the Jesuits exalt His Name. But it was not so much the body of Christ that the Jewish Priests wished to destroy, as the spirit of freedom, the teaching of new things, that Christ typified. There is no proof that Jewish Priests were as bitterly opposed to novelties as the Jesuits. "If Superiors," we read in the Jesuit Constitutions, "discover that any of their subjects show a leaning towards dangerous novelties, (novitates), they must admonish them seriously, and if they do not amend their ways, they must send them elsewhere depriving them of their right to teach and of any office they may hold, and they must not hesitate to threaten them with other penalties according to the degree of their guilt." 11

Where, in the Talmud, are we to find so strong a declaration for Reaction?

As a race the Jews have shown great perseverance, great tenacity of purpose, great ability in the acquisition of wealth and influence. The Jesuits are likewise distinguished by these traits. Jews have been reproached for flattering the rich overmuch; for their hairsplitting dialectics; for their excessive reverence for authority; for their subtlety in their dealings with fellow men. Curiously enough these same reproaches have been hurled from age to age against the Jesuits. Jesuits have, however, no fellow-feeling for the members of the race whose psychology is so kin to their own. In the Order hatred of the Jews is traditional. It has never been forgotten that many of the Jesuit leaders in the Great Spanish

11 Epitome Constitution, S.J., 321.

Rebellion, described above, were of Jewish origin, and it is forbidden to admit any one of Jewish descent into the Order. Japanese, Chinese, Indians and Negroes may be admitted into the Society of Jesus, but never, under any circumstances, a Jew!

Economic forces have played a controlling part in the history of the Children of Israel, and unless one is much mistaken economic forces play a very prominent part in guiding the wanderings of the Sons of Ignatius. Jews and Jesuits are gathered to-day in the great rich cities of this New World of the West. From the Cave of Manresa in Spain, or from the Holy Mount of Sinai, to the traffic signals of New York is a long, long cry, but it falls far short of representing the distance that separates the twin exiles, Jew and Jesuit, alike in so many ways, who brush shoulders day by day in our midst.

CHAPTER II

THE JESUIT ENIGMA

IN the preceding chapter it is stated that "running through the whole Romance of the Jesuits one finds the ever-present enigma, the contradiction inseparable from Jesuitism; the interchanging of opposites; wealth that is evangelical poverty; equivocation that is truth; laxity that is purity of doctrine; wrongs rendered good by the end in view; gross disobedience that is holy docility; rotting idleness that is meritorious labour in the vineyard; astute and cunning diplomacy that is doverlike simplicity; heroism that is the offspring of fear; chilling indifference that is the charity of Christ."

But does this "contradictoriness" exist? Is the Order wealthy and poor; equivocating and truthful; lax yet pure in doctrine; wrong-doing for good ends; disobedient and still docile; idle and laborious; cunning and all the while simple; heroic and yet cowardly; cold and still loving? If it be so the Order must be profoundly tainted with some deep and poisonous kind of insincerity, which needs must have betrayed itself in its history.

Carlyle with the utmost bitterness and ferocity hurls this charge of insincerity, deep and poisonous insincerity, at Ignatius and his followers. He did not know much about the Jesuits, but he found the mind of his century tainted with insincerity, and by a true or false intuition, without any historical research into the matter, he traced the evil to Ignatius. "That no man speak the truth to you or to himself, but that every man lie with blasphemy and acidity and does not know that he is lying—before God and man— in regard to almost all manner of things. This is the fell heritage bequeathed to us by Ignatius" . . . "Cant and even sincere cant. O Heaven, when a man doing his sincerest is still but canting! For this is the sad condition of the insincere man; he is doomed all his days to deal with insincerities, to live, move, and have his being in conventionalities" . . . "men had served the Devil, and

men had very imperfectly served God; but to think that God could be served more perfectly by taking the Devil into partnership; this was a novelty of Saint Ignatius."

If it be possible to give illustrations of this "Jesuit contradictori-ness," the only fair way to do so is to bring forward examples from authoritative writings on the Jesuits by Jesuits themselves, and lest it should be thought that this can only be done by reference to archaic books by early Jesuits, I propose to confine myself to the only two recent documents published by Jesuits about the Jesuits in this country. One is the official history of the Order, The Jesuits y published by Fr. T. J. Campbell, S.J., in 1921, and the other the Article on the Jesuits by Fr. J. H. Pollen, S.J., in the current Catholic Encyclopedia. Both Fr. Campbell and Fr. Pollen enjoyed the esteem and confidence of their Superiors, and wrote with the full official sanction of the Order.

In the Epitome of the Revised Jesuit Constitutions, 1 we read: "Ours must most faithfully bend all their forces to the practice of the virtue of Obedience, showing Obedience in the first place towards the Pope, and next towards the Superiors of the Society." And Fr. Campbell, 2 boasts that "the most profound affection and reverence for the Holy See is one of the ingrained and distinctive traits of the Society." "This is what is meant by Jesuit obedience," writes Fr. Pollen, "the characteristic virtue of the Order; such a sincere respect for authority as to accept its decisions and comply with them, not merely by outward performance but in all sincerity with the conviction that compliance is best, and that the command expresses for the time the will of God, as nearly as it can be ascertained."

The Jesuit Constitutions, together with Fr. Campbell and Fr. Pollen, all emphasise obedience, and obedience implied perfect docility towards the Pope, as the characteristic virtue of the Jesuit Order. It will therefore be apropos to examine whether or not there was "contradictoriness" in Jesuit obedience to the Pope. If there was, the enigma of "gross disobedience which is holy docility," is characteristic of the Order.

Ignatius had died in 1556, and Paul JV, who was "none too

1 Published in 1924 (sec. 466).

2 P. 588.

friendly," 8 began to have trouble with the Jesuits over the election of General. In spite of the wishes of the Pope, Borgia, Araoz, Lainez and other leading Jesuits determined to hold the election in Spain in order apparently to be free of papal interference. "This so incensed the Pope that Lainez, though greatly admired by PauJ IV, obtained an audience only with the greatest difficulty, and was then ordered to hand over the Constitutions for examination . . . there was immediate danger on several occasions of serious changes being made in the Constitutions of the Society. The Pope had been dissuaded from urging most of them but he refused to be satisfied on one point, namely the recitation of the divine office. He insisted that it must be sung in choir as was the rule in other religious Orders. Lainez had to yield and for a time the Society conformed to the decision, but the Pofe soon died." *

Both Campbell and Pollen suppress the real facts of this bitter struggle between the Jesuits and Paul IV, and of the decision of the General Congregation to oppose the changes contemplated by the Pope, and of the Pope's condemnation of their "contumacy." 6 Campbell's pretence that the Jesuits conformed to the Pope's order about singing the office in choir is based on the fact that in a few Jesuit "Professed" houses they introduced the singing of Vespers! 1

We come next to the relations between the Society and Pope Saint Pius V. "When Pius V was elected Pope," writes Fr. Campbell (p. 54), "there was a general fear that he would suppress the Society. . . . He was, however, about to revoke the Society's exemption from the office of Choir; but Borgia Induced him to change his mind on that 'point, and even obtained a perpetual exemption from the public recitation of the Office." This action of Borgia may seem quite legitimate to the lay mind and in no way inconsistent with obedience, but it must be remembered that Jesuits set themselves a standard of obedience with which Borgia's action was absolutely inconsistent. "You must diligently be on your guard lest at any time whatsoever you strive to turn the Superior's will, which you must regard as the divine will, to your own will; such conduct is not conforming your will to the divine will, but an effort to rule the divine will by your own, overturning the order of Divine Wisdom. How 'plain Is the error of those blinded by

8 Campbell, p. 100. 4 Ibid,, p. 101. 6 Cf. Sacchini, S.J.

self-love y who esteem themselves obedient when they by some reason persuade the Superior to that which they themselves desire" 6 Pollen with rare diplomacy refers to this disobedience towards Pius V thus: "One of the most delicate tasks of Borgia's government was to negotiate with Pope Saint Pitts V who desired to reintroduce the singing of Office" If the Pope's will equates with "the Will of God," as Jesuits pretend, was it obedience to "negotiate?' over the matter?

When Pope Gregory XIII, their lord and master, ventured in 1572 to warn the Jesuits against electing a fourth Spanish General, the Order expressed resentment at his interference, which once more was absolutely out of harmony with the Jesuit theory of obedience. "A remonstrance" writes Fr. Campbell, 7 "was respectfully made that His Holiness was thus withdrawing from the Society its right of freedom of election."

Between Sixtus V (1585 to 1590) and the Society there existed the most strained relations. Sixtus was worried to death by the internal and external wrangles and troubles of the Jesuits. The "Spanish Rebellion" had broken out, and Philip II of Spain had complained to him about the arrogance and unrestricted powers of the Jesuits in his dominions. "All this finally convinced Sixtus V," writes Campbell, 8 "that there was something radically wrong with the Society, and he ordered the Congregation of Holy Rites (the Roman Inquisition) to examine the Constitutions." Sixtus made up his mind to reform the Society, but the General, Acquaviva, set to work to forestall his plans. Through Jesuit agents he got Kings and Princes to write to the Pope, some with veiled threats, warning him against touching the Jesuit Constitutions. "The protest of the Duke of Bavaria especially startled the Pontiff, and he surmised that it was a Jesuit fabrication, or that it had been asked for or suggested. Such was really the case. The points had been drawn up by Alber, the provincial of Germany, and the Duke had heartily approved of them." * The diplomacy of the Order, now fifty years old, was rapidly improving, at the expense, however, of the virtue of obedience.

Meanwhile Acquaviva had been working on the "Congregation

6 Cf. Epistle of St. Ignatius on Obedience, Sec. 8.

7 P. 132. 8 P. 207. » Campbell, p. 208.

of Holy Rites" and got them to delay their report. "Up to that time the Sacred Congregation, whose members, especially Caraffa, were friendly to the Society had purposely delayed sending in a report to the Pope. He was indignant at this and handed the case over to four theologians. Their verdict was in conformity with the views of Sixtus (l,e., hostile to the Jesuits). They were more, timid than the Cardinals." 10 Sixtus, however, found himself helpless. Acquaviva had drawn from him the support of his Cardinals and he could do almost nothing. "One thing, however, he insisted on and that was the change of the name (Society of Jesus), and he ordered Acquaviva to send in a formal request to that effect. There was nothing to do but to submit and the Pope signed the Brief, but . . . that night Sixtus died. ... As was to be expected, the Society was accused of having something to do with the Pope's opportune demise" 1X One wonders if this obVioiis gratification at Sixtus' "opportune demise," is in accord with "the most profound affection and reverence for the Holy See which is one of the ingrained and distinctive traits of the Society"?

Clement VIII (1592 to 1605) "suggested to the Jesuit Congregation four harmless changes, the three first were readily accepted and the fourth respectfully rejected." 12 Once more we have an example of how the Order as a whole obeys "the least sign of its Superior's will."

The papacy of Innocent XI (1676 to 1689) was a trying time for the Society. All their prosperity in France depended on their keeping on friendly terms with Louis XIV, but Louis was at war with Innocent over the regale, the royal right to administer the revenues of vacant sees. The Jesuits did their best not to take sides, "to keep out of the controversy," 1S which meant that they did not think it prudent to stand by the Pope. The bishops, mostly nominees of Louis, sided with him and refused to publish Papal Bulls. Innocent however drew up a Bull against Louis, and entrusted it to the Jesuits for publication. "The situation was most embarrassing but before the copies were delivered) they were seized by the authorities. yy 14 Fr. Campbell admits the embarrassment of having to obey the Pope, thus risking the displeasure of the King,

1° Campbell, p. 208. «• Ibid., p. 209. 12 Ibid., p. 213.

18 Campbell, p. 411. 14 Ibid., p. 411.

but he does not tell how the Jesuits escaped from this embarrassing situation. If the "copies had been delivered," the Jesuits would have had to publish them. They arranged therefore that the copies should not be delivered by forewarning the Government and having them seized!

Fr. Campbell then tells how Fr. Dez, S.J., acted when entrusted by Innocent with another Bull excommunicating Louis. Fr. Dez was on his way from Rome to France.

"For a Frenchman to be the bearer of a Bull excommunicating his King, especially such a king as Louis XIV, was not without danger; but Dez was equal to the task. He directed his steps In such a leisurely fashion towards Paris that his brethren in Italy had time to appeal to the Pope to withdraw the decree. Fortunately the Pope yielded." 15

What of the "-prompt" and "blind" obedience of which Jesuits boast? On account of these and other matters which occurred in France Innocent XI lost confidence in the Society. "Innocent XI," writes Fr. Pollen, "was dissatisfied with the position the Society adopted, and threatened to suppress the Order, proceeding even so far as to forbid the reception of Novices." One cannot help noticing the mildness of the term "dissatisfied," used by Fr. Pollen to describe the anger of an outraged Pope.

Benedict XIV (1740 to 1758) found it necessary to issue several briefs insisting on the obedience of the Jesuit missionaries to the injunctions laid upon them by Cardinal de Tournon nearly fifty years previously, which in spite of the insistence of four Popes had been disobeyed. He subjected the Order to the extreme humiliation of appointing an Official Visitator, Cardinal Saldanha, to the Province of Portugal, with a view to its reform.

We have now to consider the Jesuit attitude towards Pope Clement XIV who suppressed the Order in 1773. Fr. Campbell defines this attitude as follows:

"To be regarded as reprobates by the Pope and branded as disturbers of the peace of the Church was a suffering with which all they had hitherto undergone bore no comparison. Nevertheless they uttered no protest. They submitted absolutely and died without a murmur, and in this silence they were true to their lifelong training

15 Campbell, p. 411.

for loyalty to the See of Peter had always been the distinctive mark of the Society of Jesus. . . . Not a word came from this heroic band to discuss the wisdom or unwisdom of the act. . . . The Jesuits defended and eulogised him (Clement XIV), and some of them even maintained that in the terrible circumstances in which he found himself he could not have done otherwise. ... The Suppression gave them the chance which they did not miss to 'prove to the world . . . and to show that their doctrine of 'blind obedience* was not a matter of mere words, but an achievable and achieved virtue. . . . It was the act of the whole Society of Jesus" 16

We find that Fr. Campbell repeats in this passage the common Jesuit claim that when the Vicar of Christ suppressed the Order:

1I) It "uttered no protest."

(2) It "submitted absolutely" giving a perfect example of "blind obedience."

(3) It "defended and eulogised" its executioner.

We have here an excellent opportunity of testing the reality of the Jesuit enigma; disobedience that is submission; equivocation that is truth; wrong rendered good by the end in view and so forth.

Did the Jesuits "utter no protest," did they "submit absolutely," did they "defend and eulogise" the Pope that had suppressed them?.

(I) The Society "uttered no 'protest"

Within two years of the suppression (Nov., 1775), Fr. Ricci, the General of the suppressed Order, published the following "to be made public throughout the world": 1T

"I now make the two following declarations and 'protests'. First, I declare and protest, that the extinct Society of Jesus has given no reason for its Suppression. . . . Second, I declare and protest that I have given no reason, not even the slightest for my imprisonment. ... I make this second protest solely because it is necessary for the reputation of the extinct Society of which I was Superior. I do not pretend in consequence of these protests that I or any one may judge as guilty before God any of those who have injured the Society of Jesus or myself. ... I pardon all those who have tortured and harmed me, first by the evils they have heaped upon the Society, and by the rigorous measures they have employed in dealing with its members; secondly, by the extinction of the Society and by 10 P. 550. "C/. Campbell, pp. 580, 581.

its accompanying circumstances; thirdly, by my own imprisonment and the hardships they have added to it; and by the harm they have done to my reputation, all of which are public and notorious facts. I pray God to pardon all the authors of the above-mentioned evils and wrongs as well as their co-operators."

Whether or not this statement, issued by the Jesuit General, on behalf of the Society, and attributing "evils and wrongs" to "all the authors" of the Suppression, including, of course, Clement XIV, be looked upon as a "defence and eulogy" of the Pope, and in no sense a "protest," must be left to the judgment of the reader.

The ex-General concludes his "declarations and protests" by begging and conjuring all who read them to "make them 'public throughout the world, as far as in them lies" thus wishing to put his sovereign lord and master, Clement, in the wrong before the whole of Christendom.

Turning now to the second claim of the Jesuits as regards the Suppression.

(2) The Society "submitted absolutely" giving an example of "blind obedience."

First as regards China. "The promulgation of the Brief (of Suppression) and the observance of all the technicalities connected with its enforcement was next to impossible in China, .and hence we find a letter of Fr. Bourgeois from Pekin to his friend Duprez in France, which bears the date May 15, 1775, announcing that the Brief is on its way. It had been issued two years previously. . . . Cretineau-Joly discovered another letter from an Italian lay-brother named Panzi, who writes eighteen months later than Bourgeois. It is dated November II, 1776. In it he says 'the missionaries had been notified of the Bull of Suppression (he does not state how) nevertheless they live together in the same house y under the same roof y and eat at the same table . . . the Fathers Breach, confess, baptise, retain possession of their froferty just as before. . . . Thanks be to God our holy Mission is going on well. . . . I am determined to live in this Holy Mission until God wishes to take me to himself.' " 18

One cannot, of course, blame the simple lay-brother for following the example of his Superiors in disregarding the Pope's Brief,

18 Campbell, p. 629.

but what of the "absolute submission" of the Fathers? It would be hard to find a better example of the Jesuit enigma "gross disobedience that is holy docility."

In Europe, in Prussia and in Russia, the Jesuits also gave an example which in their eyes alone can seem to be "absolute submission" and "blind obedience."

"When the Brief of Suppression was announced the Fathers felt 'perfectly sure that, like Frederick 77, she (Catherine of Russia) •would not permit it to be 'promulgated both because the Russian Church refused allegiance to Rome, and also because she had already bound herself by a promise to protect them." 1? Knowing all this, Fr. Czerniewicz, the Jesuit Superior, wrote to "Her Sacred Imperial Majesty" a hypocritical letter, containing the following:

"We Jesuits . . . who are the most faithful subjects of your Majesty, now prostrate before your august imperial throne, implore your Majesty by all that is most sacred to permit us to render prompt and public obedience to the authority which resides in the person of the Roman Sovereign Pontiff and to execute the edict he has sent us abolishing our Society. By condescending to have a public proclamation made of the Brief of Suppression, your majesty will thus exercise your Royal Authority, and we by promptly obeying will show ourselves obedient both to your Majesty and to the Sovereign Pontiff who has ordered this proclamation." Of course Czerniewicz, who was a personal friend of Catherine, knew quite well beforehand, as indeed Fr. Campbell admits, that his humble request would be refused. No doubt he had been to see her before he wrote this letter.

However, having written it, he flattered himself that he had fulfilled the obligations of his vow, and had obeyed the Constitutions of the Society that bade him "bend all his forces to the practice of the virtue of obedience in the first place towards the Pope."

"Not a few Pharisees," writes Fr. Campbell, "have reproached the Society for having accepted the protection of the Imperial Tigress." The reproach we wish to make against the Society is not for accepting such protection but for pretending to "submit absolutely" to the Pope, whereas in reality they disobeyed him and "submitted absolutely" to Catherine. As regards accepting the protec-19 Campbell, pp. 644, 645.

CATHERINE OF RUSSIA, WHOM THE JESUITS OBEYED IN PREFERENCE TO CLEMENT XIV.

but what of the "absolute submission" of the Fathers? It would be hard to find a better example of the Jesuit enigma "gross disobedience that is holy docility."

In Europe, in Prussia and in Russia, the Jesuits also gave an example which in their eyes alone can seem to be "absolute submission" and "blind obedience."

"When the Brief of Suppression was announced the Fathers felt 'perfectly sure that, like Frederick II, she (Catherine of Russia) would not permit it to be promulgated both because the Russian Church refused allegiance to Rome, and also because she had already bound herself by a promise to protect them." 19 Knowing all this, Fr. Czerniewicz, the Jesuit Superior, wrote to "Her Sacred Imperial Majesty" a hypocritical letter, containing the following:

"We Jesuits . . . who are the most faithful subjects of your Majesty, now prostrate before your august imperial throne, implore your Majesty by all that is most sacred to permit us to render prompt and public obedience to the authority which resides in the person of the Roman Sovereign Pontiff and to execute the edict he has sent us abolishing our Society. By condescending to have a public proclamation made of the Brief of Suppression, your majesty will thus exercise your Royal Authority, and we by promptly obeying will show ourselves obedient both to your Majesty and to the Sovereign Pontiff who has ordered this proclamation." Of course Czerniewicz, who was a personal friend of Catherine, knew quite well beforehand, as indeed Fr. Campbell admits, that his humble request would be refused. No doubt he had been to see her before he wrote this letter.

However, having written it, he flattered himself that he had fulfilled the obligations of his vow, and had obeyed the Constitutions of the Society that bade him "bend all his forces to the practice of the virtue of obedience in the first place towards the Pope."

"Not a few Pharisees," writes Fr. Campbell, "have reproached the Society for having accepted the protection of the Imperial Tigress." The reproach we wish to make against the Society is not for accepting such protection but for pretending to "submit absolutely" to the Pope, whereas in reality they disobeyed him and "submitted absolutely" to Catherine. As regards accepting the protec-19 Campbell, pp. 644, 645.

CATHERINE OF RUSSIA, WHOM THE JESUITS OBEYED IN PREFERENCE TO CLEMENT XIV.

tion of "a bold, bad woman," no one will find fault with the Order for so doing; many of their best friends were such, although Fr. Campbell 20 quotes the great French Jesuit, Pere de Ravignan, as saying, in regard to Mme. Du Barry, "Thank God the Society has never had such a protectress."

The Society showed its gratitude to Catherine for saving them from the Pope. Jesuits strained every nerve to do her public honour and when she condescended to visit their college at Polotsk, "the college was splendidly illuminated in her honour" "both at her arrival and departure the rector celebrated her glory in an eftc poem." 21

Meanwhile the Papal Nuncio Archette protested at the Jesuit disobedience to the Brief and described their evasion of it as "vain subterfuge." They made a pretence of sending a mission to the Pope to obtain sanction for their conduct and even went so far as to concoct documents, which were afterwards described by Theiner, the Vatican historian, as lies and falsifications. Fr. Pollen 22 tries to defend the action of the Russian Jesuits and to show that "their existence was legitimate or at least not illegitimate though positive approval in legal form did not come till . . . 1801." Pollen admits that even the Pope, Pius VI, who succeeded Clement, "was constrained to declare that he had not revoked the Brief of Suppression and that he regarded as an abuse anything done against it."

If the existence of the Jesuits was neither legitimate nor illegitimate what was it? The plain man will continue to wonder, but probably he will refuse to regard the conduct of the Jesuits in Russia as an example of "absolute submission" and "blind obedience" to the Pope.

We come now to the third claim of the Jesuits mentioned above.

(_2)The Society "defended and eulogised" Clement XIV.

It is generally believed that the reason why Pius IX commissioned the learned Augustin Theiner to write the history of Clement XIV in 1850 was to vindicate the character of Clement, so grossly had it been blackened by Jesuit propaganda. In Theiner's history, however, so much that was unfavourable to the Jesuits was revealed that

20 P. 544. 21 Ibid,, p. 646. 22 Catholic Encyclopedia.

"the work was forbidden in the States of the Church." 28 The Jesuits in the meantime had gained a dominating influence over Pius IX.

To return to Fr. Campbell we find that he gives very great praise to a certain Archbishop of Paris, Christopher de Beaumont." He speaks of him 24 as "the chief figure in France"; "a saint as well as a hero"; "every word he uttered was feared by the enemies of the Church" and so forth. This remarkable encomium of de Beaumont finds its explanation when Fr. Campbell quotes 25 the insolent and insulting letter of this "Saint" to Clement XIV, apropos of the Brief of Suppression.

Of course the pious Jesuit regrets the necessity of quoting the letter . . . "it is unpleasant for a Jesuit to publish it on account of its tone, for the most 'profound affection and reverence for the Holy See is one of the ingrained and distinctive traits of the Society"

Was it really "unpleasant" for Campbell to quote de Beaumont as telling the Pope that his Brief was "an isolated, private and pernicious judgment which does no honour to the Tiara and is prejudicial to the glory of the Church?" 26 He quotes the "Saint's" sneer at Clement's Cardinals. "Your predecessors did not consider -worthy of the Purple those whom your Holiness seems to design for the glory of the Cardinalate." Perhaps de Beaumont had had hopes of a Cardinal's hat himself. Next de Beaumont adds: "By rejecting the brief and by an active resistance to it, our Clergy will transmit to posterity a splendid example of integrity and zeal for the Catholic faith." These last words might well have been written by Martin Luther.

Fr. Campbell's way of "defending and eulogising" Clement takes the form of trying to show that he was mad. He quotes 27 many rumours to that effect. "His mind was unbalanced"; "He had lost his mind"; "I am haunted with the fear of going mad and ending like Clement"; "The poor Pope had exclaimed before he signed the Brief, 'This Suppression will kill me.' 'After it,' says Saint-Priest, 'he would pace his apartments in agony, crying: 'Mercy,

28 Cf. Cath. Encyclopedia, Theiner. 24 P. .

25 P. 588. 2<J P. S9o. 27 Ibid., Chap. xx.

mercy! They forced me to do it.' However, at the last moment, his reason returned."

Fr. Campbell, "defending and eulogising" Clement adds, 28 'The new Pope (Pius VI) was painfully conscious that an error had been committed by suppressing an Order without trial and without even condemnation."

So far we have been considering the strange and enigmatical spectacle of the Jesuits, bound by vows to perfect obedience to the Pope, and boasting everywhere and at all times of that obedience, and yet, apparently with good faith, openly and grossly disobeying the most explicit mandates of the Holy See.

An equally interesting phase of the Jesuit enigma next confronts us when we begin to examine into the boasted perfect discipline and good order of this "crack regiment" of the army of Christ. Perhaps the fairest way to examine into the quality of the discipline and order that has prevailed in the Society, is to study how the elections for Generals have been conducted, for it will be recognised that these elections are the most important functions in the Society, only those being allowed to take part in them who are the carefully chosen exemplars of learning, virtue, and the spirit of the Society. At the election of the General, besides Provincials, there are two representatives from each Province, who must be Professed Fathers, and who are chosen by ballot in each Province as the most worthy representatives.

Now although there have been- only twenty-five such elections, there has been very serious irregularity and trouble in several of them, and again and again the Popes have had to interfere to restore order. In the early Society in particular there was disorder at almost every election, the source of the trouble being in many cases the persistent claim of the Spanish Jesuits to have a Spanish General. Even to the present day, at every election there is fear of what the Spanish contingent may do.

The very first election, that of Ignatius himself, was not without some elements of irregularity. In the first ballot he received all the votes, but he refused to accept office and demanded a second ballot. At the second ballot a considerable percentage of the votes went to Fr. Faber, who was highly esteemed among the brethren,

28 P. 608.

and Ignatius must have known that if he himself was not to be the General, the office would be given to Faber. Nevertheless in the second ballot Ignatius* vote was a blank! He had refused to be General; he was unwilling to vote for the next best man; he would and he wouldn't; finally he accepted.

When Ignatius died in 1556, the trouble already referred to arose over Lainez' seizure of authority. Paul IV was compelled to interfere in the dispute that arose, and he ruled, though his ruling was disobeyed, that Generals should be elected for only three years. Lainez was elected in 1558, and although he secured the rescinding of Paul's regulation, regarding the three years' time limit of Generals, he wanted to resign after three years! But it was in the hands of a very complacent and friendly Pope, Pius IV, that he placed his resignation, knowing that it would not be accepted. He, too, like Ignatius, "would and wouldn't." Borgia, the third General, was elected normally and held on to office, but when he died (1572) there was tenfold trouble. Borgia had appointed Polanco, Ignatius' famous secretary, a Spaniard of Jewish origin, as Vicar-General, and his election was assured. Gregory XIII, however, did not want another Spanish General, so the Order having protested against Gregory's interference, elected a Belgian, Mercurian. When he died (1580) he nominated a fellow countryman, Manares, as Vicar-General. Manares was, unlike Ignatius, anxious to rule and he began to pull strings to secure his election. He bestowed a present on Fr. Toletus, S.J., a friend of the Pope. , This was found out and he was tried and found guilty of "ambi-tioning office." Then Acquaviva was elected.

The Spanish Fathers were furious over this election of an Italian and with Philip IPs aid they tried to establish a separate Spanish Society. This was the motive of the "Spanish Rebellion" already referred to. Acquaviva died in 1615, believing that he had quashed all the internal disorder in the Society, but the next election, 29 showed that this was not the case.

"The congregation convened after the death of Acquaviva, on

November 5, 1615, and the majority of its members must have

been astounded, to find the Spanish claim to the Generalship still

advocated. . . . Mutio Vitelleschi, an Italian, however, was most

29 Cf. Campbell, p. 269.

in evidence at that time ... the possibility of his election, at this juncture, afforded a well-grounded hope of a glorious future for the Society. Nevertheless some of the Spanish delegates determined to defeat him, and with that in view they addressed themselves to the ambassadors of France and Spain, to enlist their aid . . . they approached the Pope himself and assured him that Vitelleschi was altogether unfit for the position. . . . The balloting took place on November the fifteenth, and Mutio was chosen by thirty-nine votes out of seventy-five. The margin was not a large one y and shows how nearly the conspirators had succeeded" It is interesting to notice how almost one-half of the most conspicuous and venerable members of the Society of Jesus at this date (1615) had to be dubbed by fellow Jesuits as "conspirators."

In 1661 a curious thing happened. The General, Goswin Nickel, was superseded by a Vicar-General, John Paul Oliva. "This departure from usage had been allowed with the approval of Pope Alexander VII." 80 Ranke, who regarded the incident as somewhat sinister, asserted that Nickel was "rude, discourteous and repulsive," and that he "was deposed from office by the General Congregation which explicitly declared that he had forfeited all authority."

Fr. Campbell declares 81 that Ranke is wrong in regarding the event "as a change in the Society's methods"! He admits that it was a "departure from usage," but he denies that it was "a change in the Society's methods." The Vicar's position was "not in conjunction with that of the retiring General ... so as to avoid government by two heads." In other words, the poor old General asked for a Vicar to assist him, and the Vicar was given all authority while Nickel was left without any. But this was not done on account of Nickel's "rudeness, discourtesy, or re-pulsiveness," for, explains Fr. Campbell, it is "inherently impossible" for a Jesuit General to be such!

As regards the election of Thyrsus Gonzalez (1687), Campbell writes: 32 "It must have been with dismay that his brethren heard of his election as General by the thirteenth General Congregation. It appears certain that on the eve of his election the Pope (Innocent XI) expressed his opinion that Gonzalez was the most available

so Campbell, p. 391. 31 P. 393- 32 P. 4*5-

candidate." Soon "the Society was thrown into an uproar," 88 because the new General published a book which attacked the common Jesuit doctrine of "probabilism."

The first General Congregation held after the restoration of the Society (1820) was again a scene of intrigue; papal interference; ambitioning of office; and expulsions from the Society. This time Fr. Campbell has to use the word "conspirators" 84 against the party of Jesuits led by Fr. Petrucci, the Vicar-General, who was all but elected General, when a Cardinal, Consalvi, dragged in from without, "averted the wreck" of the Order. "Both Petrucci and Pietroboni were deposed, •from their respective offices as Vicar and Provincialy and other disturbers were excelled from the Society" 8B Even the suppression had not exorcised the spirit of intrigue from the Society! The old enigma of "internal trouble, dissension, and disorder that is the peace of a holy Family" had reappeared.

Later on in this volume I shall have to discuss the subject of Jesuit wealth, and the mode of rationalisation whereby they can reconcile riches with evangelical poverty. It will be sufficient here to quote 86 a famous letter written by John Sobieski to the Jesuit General Oliva:

"I remark with great grief that the good name of the Society has much to suffer from your eagerness to increase its fortune without troubling yourselves about the rights of others. I feel bound therefore to warn the Jesuits here against their passion for wealth and domination, which are .only too evident in the Jesuits of other countries. Rectors seek to enrich their colleges in every way. It is their only thought."

Fr. Campbell uses the argument 87 of "inherent impossibility" to discredit this letter. "It is impossible to imagine that he (Sobieski) ever uttered such a calumny against his most devoted friends." . . . "As Sobieski died in Fr. Vota's arms, it is not very likely that he ever regarded his affectionate friends as 'greedy and rapacious.'"

If Sobieski's letter contained "calumnies" there might be some force in Fr. Campbell's argument, but was it calumnious? And as regards Sobieski's death in a Jesuit's arms, it was not perhaps

83 P. 4l6. 34 p. 722. 86 p. 724.

86 Campbell, p. 394. 87 P. 397.

possible for the Polish hero to make any other choice. Men do not usually arrange their own death scenes with a nice consideration for consistency.

I have said that the Jesuit enigma appears in the form of "astute and cunning diplomacy that is dovelike simplicity." Later on this point too will be copiously illustrated, for the moment it will be sufficient to allude to it briefly.

Fr. Campbell glosses over the political activity of the Order as follows: 38

"In those days there was an extraordinary amount of exaggerated confidence entertained by many of the dignitaries of the Church that the Jesuits had an especial aptitude for adjusting the politico-religious difficulties which were disturbing the peace of Europe." He gives, however, some instances of Jesuits who became whole-time diplomats and politicians. First as regards Fr. Antony Posse-vin: 89 "In 1577 ne was sent ^ a special legate of the Pope to John III of Sweden, and also to the courts of Bohemia and Bavaria to secure their support for John in the event of certain political complications. These political features made it very objectionable to the Jesuits because of their possible reaction on the whole Society. . . . Like his predecessor (Fr. Nicolai, S.J.), he did not appear in his clerical garb, nor even as the legate of the Pope . . . but he came as the ambassador extraordinary of the Empress of Germany. ... In spite of this failure Possevin was then sent as legate to Russia, Lithuania, Moravia, Hungary, and in general to all the countries of the North; while Philip II of Spain entrusted him with a confidential mission to the King of Sweden. In Bavaria he has to see the Duke; at Augsburg he makes arrangements for the Pope with the famous banking firm of Fugger. . . . From there he proceeded to Prague to deliver a message to the Emperor; and at Vilna he conferred with Bathori, the King of Poland. . . ." etc. Possevin is sent to make peace between Poland and Russia (1581), and "is received with all the honours due to an ambassador."

Sixty years later Fr. Antonio Vieira, S.J., outdoes Possevin. One paragraph from Fr. Campbell, 40 will give an idea of so-called "politico-religious" activities.

"In the following year Vieira arrived from Brazil, and was not

88 P. 119. 8B Cf. p. 121 seq. 40 P. 127.

only made tutor to the Infante, Don Pedro, (of Portugal, 1641), as well as court preacher, but was appointed member of the Royal Council. In the last-named, office he reorganised the departments of the army and navy, gave a new impetus to commerce, urged the" foundation of a national bank, and the reorganisation of the Brazilian Trading Company, readjusted the taxation, curbed the Portuguese Inquisition, and was mainly instrumental in gaining the national victories of Elvas, Almeixal, Castello Rodrigo and Monies Claros."

Fr. Campbell has no fault to find with such political activity, but when a century later he has to refer to political meddling by two Jesuits, Carboni and Moreira, which resulted in the promotion of the Duke de Pombal, who eventually turned the Jesuits out of Portugal, Fr. Campbell says, 41 "never was departure from the principles and rules of the religious state by meddling with things outside the sphere of duty so terribly punished." '

One finds indeed that in the persons of Auger, Annat, Nithard, Petre, Parsons, Manares, Possevin, Vieira, and a host of others, the Jesuits were deeply involved in politics, and their diplomacy was in the eyes of even friendly historians not unfrequently astute and, cunning. It has been customary in the Order to defend this interference in politics on the grounds that the exigencies of religion demanded it, but Clement XIV, Paul V and other Popes took a very different view; Clement even accused them, as we shall see, of "rising up against the sovereigns who had admitted and welcomed them into their realms."

• • • * • • *

"The allegation that Jesuits were ever immensely rich is demon-strably a fable," writes Fr. Pollen, and Fr. Campbell tells us, 42 that "the Jesuits have laid before the public the inventories of their possessions, and those plain and undisguised statements could easily be found if there was any serious desire to get at the truth." But where are these inventories to be found? And how is the "allegation" that the Jesuits were at times "immensely rich" shown to be a fable? For twenty years I belonged to the Irish Province of the Order, and although naturally interested in the matter, I could never find out what the wealth of the Province was, save that I

41 P. 43i. 42 P. 349.

saw that it possessed several valuable estates. I never came across any of Fr. Campbell's "plain and undisguised inventories."

Fr. Campbell, referring to the expulsion from Spain in 1767, writes: 43 "It was a magnificent stroke of organised work and incidentally very profitable to the government for at one and the same moment it came into possession of 158 Jesuit houses, all of considerable value as real estate and some of them magnificent in their equipment. How much was added to the Spanish Treasury on that eventful morning y we have no means of computing" Doubtless there was no means of computing this wealth because the "plain and undisguised inventories" were not forthcoming.

When Jesuit historians reveal so many discrepancies between principles and practice in the Order, can one entirely blame the blunt and bigoted Carlyle for exclaiming: "Where you meet a man believing in the salutary nature of falsehoods, or the divine authority of things doubtful, and fancying that to serve the Good Cause he must call the Devil to his aid, there is a follower of Un-saint Ignatius"?

48 P. 522.

CHAPTER III

THE BOOK THAT MADE THE JESUITS

ON July 31, 1548, a sallow-faced, deep-eyed Spanish priest limped along the sultry streets of Rome clutching in his hand a parchment, sealed with the papal seal. It was a document fated to change the destinies of kings and princes, and to prove the foundation stone on which was built an organisation more potent for good and evil than any other organisation of men that the Western world has ever seen. It was the Brief, Pastoralis Officll Cura y by which Paul III gave the Church's approval to the "Spiritual Exercises" of Ignatius Loyola. "Certain Spiritual Instructions or Exercises," the Brief stated, "drawn from Holy Scripture and the experience of spiritual life, and reduced to a method excellently adapted to move to piety the minds of the faithful." These "Instructions" were contained in a little booklet of a few thousand words which had been submitted to Paul III "by his beloved son, the most noble Francis of Borgia, Duke of Gandia."

Thus, through the instrumentality of Borgia, himself a Jesuit, there was launched upon the world one of the most remarkable books ever written, a book that has made and unmade more saints and sinners than any other book save perhaps the Bible; a book that for centuries was shrouded in mystery and spoken of with superstitious awe by multitudes of the faithful; a book that Jesuits claim to have been written from the dictation of the Blessed Virgin; and that a famous bishop of Belley described as "a golden book, of pure gold, more precious than gold or topaz." It was this book, not the virtue of Ignatius or the genius of his followers, which made the Jesuit Order. Not only was it the training ground of Jesuits but it was the great hook by which they caught their fish and the magical wand which they used to work their marvels. Through it the Jesuits brought about revolutionary changes in

Catholic asceticism and established their reputation as spiritual

directors. It voiced a protest against the easy-going spiritual ways of former days and introduced an atmosphere of hustling and competition into religion. Its virtues were so loudly proclaimed, and its strangeness was so marked that monks of the old school like Melchior Cano shook their heads over "these novelties in religion." But the Jesuits continued to chant its praises far and wide, and although they did not, like Luther, nail up in public their spiritual theses, in the course of time the symbol of the "Exercises," the little examen beads, has hung on the breasts of more nuns and priests than there were stones in the church of Wittenberg.

The Sforitual Exercises, like all things Jesuit, has come in for too much praise and too much blame. Janssen, the historian, called it a "first-class psychological masterpiece," and Laffite, the Posi-tivist of the College de France, spoke of it as "a real masterpiece of political and moral wisdom." Huysmans compared the book to "a Japanese culture of counterfeited dwarfish trees," and Prof. James taught that it developed monoideistic hysteria. Abbe Guetee sums up the various criticisms that have been made by saying, "there are people who consider this book a masterpiece and others find it but very ordinary." It is not a book to be judged from the mere reading of it. Like other manuals that lay down certain exercises to be performed, a fair criticism cannot be given unless the directions are carried out loyally and the exercises judged on the effects they produce.

Although Paul III had in his Brief "exhorted very much in the Lord all and each of Christ's faithful of both sexes, wheresoever situated, to use with a devout good-will these so pious instructions and exercises and by them be taught," he ordained that "they should not be printed . . . without the consent of the same Ignatius or his successors, under pain of excommunication and of 500 ducats fine to be applied to works of piety." Thus the Jesuits were given a monopoly of their new spiritual invention, and to render this monopoly more secure for them Paul commanded all bishops and church dignitaries to assist each and every Jesuit so that "they may peacefully have and enjoy the said concession and approbation . . . against molestation of all kinds." If necessary "the help of the secular arm" might be invoked to secure their rights, and "censures and punishments" of an ecclesiastical kind were, if required, to be

fulminated on their behalf. All which precautions strike one as strange in these days when there is little danger of "spiritual fruits" being robbed.

Within a week of the reception of the Brief, on August 8, 1548, Ignatius printed a first edition, but it was carefully marked "Ad usum nostrorum" ("for the use of Ours"}. In the advertisement it was stated that "it was not printed with the intention of being spread abroad among the people in general ... all the copies have been placed in the Company's power, for its own use, as we have saidj so that they can neither be sold nor printed anywhere." And Jesuits were sternly forbidden to give or to lend the book to externs. It was to be a secret book, a mystery book, a something so special and miraculous that only the favoured ones were to be privileged to learn its contents, and then only through the absolutely essential medium of a Jesuit Director who should explain the mysteries it contained without however actually showing the book.

All this secrecy and reservation seems inconsistent with the injunction of Paul III that "all and each of Christ's faithful of both sexes wheresoever situated" were to use the book. But Ignatius saw, with remarkable foresight, the advantage to be gained by holding back the book, and arousing a keen hunger for it. He knew it would have been a "best seller" had it been placed on the market. But he was aiming at something more than immediate profit. He was aiming at putting in the hands of the Order something which would prove to be an investment of permanent value; something which would prove to be a source of untold power. And his judgment was sound. Had the Spiritual Exercises been published at once and made available for all the world as the Pope evidently intended, the Jesuit Order would not have survived a century.

The plea that "only a Jesuit can correctly explain (or give) the 'Exercises' " is, of course, put forward by the Order, to justify their monopoly. But what is the value of such a plea? I have made the "Exercises" very many times. On two occasions I made them for thirty days. On about twenty occasions I made them for eight days, and several times I made the "three-day" form of the "Exercises." And yet I must honestly say that only .once or twice were they well explained. In general, exceedingly few Jesuits take the

trouble to study the "Exercises" carefully and to explain them clearly. I feel quite convinced that Dominicans or Franciscans could, if they cared to do so, give the "Exercises" just as well as Jesuits. Again it may be pointed out that one has reason to suspect that there must be something irreconcilable with the New Testament in the doctrine contained in the "Exercises," if ordinary Catholic priests cannot be trusted to explain them satisfactorily.

What then is the motive of the plea that "only a Jesuit can give the 'Exercises' correctly"? The motive lies in the fact that Ignatius saw that the "Exercises" would prove to be a fruitful source of recruits to Religious Life, and naturally he wished to secure such recruits for his own Order. In the Directory, containing instructions as to the manner of giving the "Exercises" we read: 1 "It is not desirable to advise everybody to shut himself up to take the Exercises. ... He who begins them ought to be educated or capable, free and fit for the Company. ... If he is apt but not disposed to take the Exercises, aid him with familiar conversations, but cautiously so that he does not suspect there is any craft; though it is the holy craft spoken of by Saint Paul to the Corinthians when he wrote 'being crafty I caught you with guile.' " Thus the mystery-book of the Jesuits was to serve not merely the purpose of teaching, as the sub-title states, how "to conquer oneself and regulate one's life, and avoid coming to decisions through the impulse of disordered passions/' but also it was to bring grist to the mill, in the shape of suitable candidates for the Order, and failing candidature, benefactions wherewith to carry on the good work. These latter purposes were served in a remarkably successful way by the Spiritual Exercises.

Of the origin and sources of the "Spiritual Exercises," not much is known. Ignatius began to note down his spiritual experiences while still in his hermit's cave at Manresa. There, under the guidance* of John Chanones, of the Montserrat monastery, he studied the Exercises of the Spiritual Life, written by Garcia de Cisneros, a former Abbot of the monastery. This book contained twenty-one meditations to be made in twenty-one days, and it gave certain rules and directions that reappear in Ignatius' work. While at Manresa he also read The Life of Jesus Christ by Ludolph of 1 Cf. Ignatius Loyola, p. 267. Van Dyke.

Saxony, 2 and very probably, another book entitled De Ascensionibus Sfiritualibus, by Gerard of Zutphen. Ignatius commenced but did not complete his MS. at Manresa. He continued to work on it for nearly twenty years. "I did not," he told Fr. Gonzalez, "compose the Exercises all at once. When anything resulting from my own experience seemed to me likely to be of use to others I took note of it."

Though Ignatius was unquestionably much indebted to other spiritual writers, both as regards the meditations that he drew up; the order in which he placed them; the rules for prayer and so forth; the book as a whole bears the stamp of Ignatius on every page, and reflects very distinctly the peculiar psychology of its author. His chivalrous temperament; his jubilant pessimism; his devil obsession; his predilection for strategy; his absorption in technique; his arithmomania; his cock-sure dogmatism, and extraordinary self-confidence; his delight in visualising; his practical view of things, all reappear in it, no less than his earnestness and nobility of purpose. The personal note is present when he deals with choosing a state of life, which caused him so much anxiety; when he treats of regulating food; when he warns exercitants against excessive austerity. Looked upon as a whole we can see in the "Exercises" a complete system; a whole story, beginning, middle and end; a habitable structure, roofed, windowed and doored; a navigable boat, with rudder, sails and oars; in fine a self-contained, leakless, flawless vessel apt for faith and salvation, such as the subconscious mind of Ignatius yearned for. It was his answer to the enigma of life, his contribution to the philosophy of the world, and in it he believed with his whole soul.

The original copy of the Exercises, written in illiterate Castilian, is lost, but the original translation, "anttqua versio" of 1541, in very "barbarous" Latin, is still extant.

Ignatius divides his book into four parts, each part being a week, though not necessarily of seven days. Each week consists of meditations, prayers, and rules for praying, as well as other rules about matters concerning the spiritual life. The first week, the purgative week, offers meditations on sin and hell, to which other meditations on death and judgment may be added at the discretion of the direc-

2 Publ. at Alcala in 1502.

tor. The purpose of the first week is to reform the sinner, "defor-mata reformarJ'} "searing upon the soul a hatred of sin by terror." Here we already see the general method of Ignatius, thus described by Fr. Debucy, S.J. 8 "To select some of the great truths of religion, to drive them deeply into the heart, until man thoroughly impressed falls at the Lord's feet, crying like another Saul, 'Lord, what would you have me do?' such is the genius, the ascetic character of Ignatius." The second week is peculiarly Ignatian. It is the most important part of the Exercises. Besides giving meditations on the life of Christ, it contains the two famous contemplations on Christian Chivalry, "The Kingdom of Christ" and "Two Standards." During this week also the "Election" is made. Knowledge and love of Christ are the objects aimed at and the repentant sinner is "illuminated" and confirmed; "reformata con-firmare" being the watchword of the second week.

The third part of the Exercises deals with the passion and sufferings of Christ. It is a development and continuation of the second part. Illumination is still sought for, and a deeper love of Christ, so that the repentant sinner already confirmed in his penitence may be still more strongly confirmed; "confirmata con fir-mare"

The fourth and concluding part of the Exercises sounds a long-awaited note of joy and comfort. Christ's glory supplies the subject of the meditations. Union with God is the object sought for, and the confirmed repentant sinner is now transformed into true sanctity; "confirmata transformare" To sum up, in the words of Cardinal Wiseman, "a man is presumed to enter into the course of the Spiritual Exercises in the defilement of sin, under the bondage of every passion, wedded to every worldly and selfish affection, without a method or rule of life, and to come out of them restored to virtue, full of generous and noble thoughts, self-conquering and self-ruling, but not self-trusting, on the arduous path of Christian life. Black and unwholesome as the muddy water that is poured into the filter, were his affections and his soul; bright, sweet and healthful as the stream that issues from it, they come forth. He was as dross when cast into the furnace, and is pure gold when drawn from it."

This testimonial of the learned Cardinal is not only eloquent but 8 Catholic Encyclopedia.

sincere, and it voices the faith placed in the efficacy of the Exercises by every loyal son of Ignatius. We cannot however resist the temptation of placing side by side with it the similar but ironical testimony of Macaulay. "The Spiritual Exercises," wrote Macaulay, "is a manual of conversion, proposing a plan of interior discipline, by means of which in neither more nor less than four weeks, the metamorphosis of a sinner into a faithful servant of Christ is realised step by step." Perhaps, however, it is wrong to impute irony to Macaulay, for this quotation is given with evident pride by Fr. Debuchy, S.J., 4 as an example of the praise bestowed by non-Catholics on the Exercises.

The Spiritual Exercises are to be made in silence and isolation. No one converses with the Exercitant save his confessor and the director of the retreat. Besides the various kinds of meditations alluded to there are sets of rules and forms of prayer to be studied and digested. There are twenty-three rules for the discerning of spirits; seven rules to be observed in the distribution of alms; six rules for the perception and distinguishing of scruples; eighteen rules for thinking with the orthodox Church; three methods of prayer; two forms of examination of conscience; three modes of humility; eight rules for rightly regulating one's food; as well as an immense number of notes, additions and instructions. The most minute directions are supplied the Exercitant as to times, places, postures, light, darkness, counting faults, preparing points for meditation and so forth. Absolutely nothing is left to chance, or to the free choice of the Exercitant. The faculties of the mind that are to be employed at prayer and the order in which they are to be used are laid down. Everything is prearranged, even to the extent of the nature of the emotions and feelings that are to be evoked. The Exercitant is regarded as a piece of malleable spiritual matter which has to be refined and moulded. The Holy Spirit is counted upon to co-operate punctually and methodically. The Ignatian retreat is no time for the Holy Spirit "to breathe where He will." Ignatius seems to insist on His breathing according to schedule. "Throughout," wrote Cardinal Wiseman, "there is a manifest conviction of the adequacy of the means to the end in the writer's mind; there is nothing experimental, nothing optional, nothing left to be discoveredj but £Cf. Catholic Encyclopedia.

every method is laid down as certaln y every result reckoned on as

sure."

When on Retreat, one feels in a different world, far removed from human concerns, and in touch with a reality of vital importance. One feels the insecurity of life and its hollowness. One becomes afraid for oneself and for one's friends, and profoundly uncertain as to what one ought to do. One is profoundly disturbed. A change, a conversion, a sacrifice seems imperative. One becomes preoccupied about plans for the future, and if optimistic one proposes to oneself a stupendous and epoch-making amelioration. A sense of satisfaction is felt for so bravely facing the grave and awful thoughts concerning "the four last things," and one experiences a certain peace of soul in the purpose one has of amending and ordering one's life. On the whole, howqver, the experience is disturbing and upsetting, and one wonders if in the end it tells for good or evil.

The "long retreat," of thirty days which Jesuit novices make soon after entering the Order, is beyond doubt a most harrowing enterprise. Novices are carefully "worked up" to a high pitch of excitement. They are told that their whole future lives depend upon how they make this thirty days' Retreat. They are not allowed to read or hear a single word about the "Exercises" before they begin, but it is suggested to them that these "Exercises" are the most holy and wonderful form of spirituality in the whole world and that if they correspond fully they will become saints. When the evening arrives on which the "long retreat" is to commence, and when the noviceship bell signals the, opening of the "long retreat," the novices enter the chapel trembling with excitement and pent-up emotion. The journey to .heaven has begun. Day by day as it propeeds the novices become more strained, more absorbed, more abnormal. They become so forgetful and absent-minded that they can do no external thing correctly. They walk about praying, with eyes glued to the ground, and thoughts forcibly focussed on God, conscious of God's presence everywhere. In their strange state of religious exaltation they crave for humiliations, suffering, and a closer union with God. They note down day by day, according to rule, an exact.report of their inner experiences; the fruits they are deriving from prayer; the consolation or desolation they are feeling;

yo The Jesuit Enigma

the "lights" that are breaking on their souls; the resolutions and purposes they are forming. These notes they must show to the master of novices. At night in the dormitory, or corridor in which the novices' sleeping-alcoves are placed, there are strange signs of restlessness. Voices are raised in self-accusation, or in plaintive calls for home, and few enjoy more than broken sleep at such times of intense spiritual strain.

Apart from the external repression involved in a "long retreat," namely, silence, restricted exercise, public penances and so forth, the mental prayer insisted on is itself the most terrible of disciplines, especially for those unaccustomed to its practice. The "Exercises" are built upon mental prayer. The mind has first to "recall the points" of the meditation and visualise the scene depicted ("composition of flace"). Then the mind has to reason over each of the points, making comparisons, and applications, deriving fruit, and gaining a clearer vision of the meaning of things. Then the will has to stir up love and repentance and purpose of amendment. The three faculties of the mind have thus to be kept constantly active j the memory, the intellect, and the will. And although the strain of one hour of such prayer on young novices is very severe, while on retreat they must pray mentally for an hour and a quarter, each of four times a day. In addition, they hear exhortations lasting in all a few hours, and read spiritual books of the driest kind. It is therefore not to be wondered at that many novices break down and become unnerved during retreats. Those however who do not break down are gripped by the retreat and make the most fervent resolutions to devote their whole lives to attaining perfection. Needless to say they come to see clearly that for them salvation lies in guarding their vocation to the Society.

My personal experience of directing retreats, for as a Jesuit I directed a considerable number, led me to become very sceptical of the good that they produce. They stir up for a short time spiritual tension and excitement, during which period Exercitants, carried away by emotion, make many generous and noble resolutions. But when the retreat is past, and the tension and excitement over, these resolutions. fade into mere memories. As often as not a reaction to the repression of the retreat sets in and the Exercitant rebounds so much that, after a while, he finds himself farther away from God

than ever. Added to this, most people are mentally and temperamentally incapable of the "faculty praying" that Ignatius insists upon. The mind inevitably wanders, unless strong emotional interest is aroused, and fretful attempts to drag back attention result in fatigue and discouragement. The Ignatian mental prayer results in futile efforts to conquer distractibility, to the loss of peaceful union of soul with God. Retreats are a cruel form of torture in the case, for instance, of simple country girls, just gathered into a convent, and clothed in the habits of nuns, and forced to spend several hours a day juggling with "mental faculties," about the existence of which they were hardly aware before the retreat started. Yet, the "Spiritual Exercises" are regarded as the great contribution of the Jesuits to religious life. How few realise the immense.wilderness of misery, depression and weariness of soul that they cause in the hearts of hundreds of thousands of poor religious, forced by rule to make them every year!

The Sforitual Exercises is of course the Koran of the Jesuits and one dare not breathe a word of criticism of it in the Order. Its shortcomings however have been pointed out by members of the Benedictine Order. It introduces a spirit of military discipline and coercive thinking into prayer. It reduces praying to something not remotely unlike a cross-word puzzle. It raises conscious thinking, goaded to activity by will efforts, above normal semi-conscious thinking. It aims at producing by force emotions and affections. It sounds the death-knell of simple, unsophisticated praying, and introduces an atmosphere of strain and tension. It leaves little or nothing for the Holy Spirit to do. It points out a way of spiritual progress that is almost independent of the Spirit. Of old it used to be thought that spiritual movements of holy joy or holy sorrow came from above. But hear Ignatius! "When he who is being exercised does not attain the affection sought, as grief or consolation, it is expedient every now and then to change the 'plan of food and slee'p and other kinds of fenance" Spiritual exaltation was to be won by strategy! "The fourth is to set about the contemplation itself, now kneeling on the ground, arid lying on my face or on my back, now sitting or standing, and com-'posing myself in the way in which I may hope the more easily to attain what I desire"

sincere, and it voices the faith placed in the efficacy of the Exercises by every loyal son of Ignatius. We cannot however resist the temptation of placing side by side with it the similar but ironical testimony of Macaulay. "The Spiritual Exercises," wrote Macaulay, "is a manual of conversion, proposing a plan of interior discipline, by means of which In neither more nor less than four weeks, the metamorphosis of a sinner into a faithful servant of Christ is realised step by step." Perhaps, however, it is wrong to impute irony to Macaulay, for this quotation is given with evident pride by Fr. Debuchy, S.J., 4 as an example of the praise bestowed by non-Catholics on the Exercises.

The Spiritual Exercises are to be made in silence and isolation. No one converses with the Exercitant save his confessor and the director of the retreat. Besides the various kinds of meditations alluded to there are sets of rules and forms of prayer to be studied and digested. There are twenty-three rules for the discerning of spirits; seven rules to be observed in the distribution of alms; six rules for the perception and distinguishing of scruples; eighteen rules for thinking with the orthodox Church; three methods of prayer; two forms of examination of conscience; three modes of humility; eight rules for rightly regulating one's food; as well as an immense number of notes, additions and instructions. The most minute directions are supplied the Exercitant as to times, places, postures, light, darkness, counting faults, preparing points for meditation and so forth. Absolutely nothing is left to chance, or to the free choice of the Exercitant. The faculties of the mind that are to be employed at prayer and the order in which they are to be used are laid down. Everything is prearranged, even to the extent of the nature of the emotions and feelings that are to be evoked. The Exercitant is regarded as a piece of malleable spiritual matter which has to be refined and moulded. The Holy Spirit is counted upon to co-operate punctually and methodically. The Ignatian retreat is no time for the Holy Spirit "to breathe where He will." Ignatius seems to insist on His breathing according to schedule. "Throughout," wrote Cardinal Wiseman, "there is a manifest conviction of the adequacy of the means to the end in the writer's mind; there is nothing experimental, nothing optional, nothing left to be discovered} bub 4>Cf. Catholic Encyclopedia.

every method Is laid down as certain, every result reckoned on as

sure"

When on Retreat, one feels in a different world, far removed from human concerns, and in touch with a reality of vital importance. One feels the insecurity of life and its hollowness. One becomes afraid for oneself and for one's friends, and profoundly uncertain as to what one ought to do. One is profoundly disturbed. A change, a conversion, a sacrifice seems imperative. One becomes preoccupied about plans for the future, and if optimistic one proposes to oneself a stupendous and epoch-making amelioration. A sense of satisfaction is felt for so bravely facing the grave and awful thoughts concerning "the four last things," and one experiences a certain peace of soul in the purpose one has of amending and ordering one's life. On the whole, however, the experience is disturbing and upsetting, and one wonders if in the end it tells for good or evil.

The "long retreat," of thirty days which Jesuit novices make soon after entering the Order, is beyond doubt a most harrowing enterprise. Novices are carefully "worked up" to a high pitch of excitement. They are told that their whole future lives depend upon how they make this thirty days' Retreat. They are not allowed to read or hear a single word about the "Exercises" before they begin, but it is suggested to them that these "Exercises" are the most holy and wonderful form of spirituality in the whole world and that if they correspond fully they will become saints. When the evening arrives on which the "long retreat" is to commence, and when the noViceship bell signals the, opening of the "long retreat," the novices enter the chapel trembling with excitement and pent-up emotion. The journey to .heaven has begun. Day by day as it proceeds the novices become more strained, more absorbed, more abnormal. They become so forgetful and absent-minded that they can do no external thing correctly. They walk about praying, with eyes glued to the ground, and thoughts forcibly focussed on God, conscious of God's presence everywhere. In their strange state of religious exaltation they crave for humiliations, suffering, and a closer union with God. They note down day by day, according to rule, an exact report of their inner experiences; the fruits they are deriving from prayer; the consolation or desolation they are feeling;

yo The Jesuit 'Enigma

the "lights" that are breaking on their souls; the resolutions and purposes they are forming. These notes they must show to the master of novices. At night in the dormitory, or corridor in which the novices' sleeping-alcoves are placed, there are strange signs of restlessness. Voices are raised in self-accusation, or in plaintive calls for home, and few enjoy more than broken sleep at such times of intense spiritual strain.

Apart from the external repression involved in a "long retreat," namely, silence, restricted exercise, public penances and so forth, the mental prayer insisted on is itself the most terrible of disciplines, especially for those unaccustomed to its practice. The "Exercises" are built upon mental prayer. The mind has first to "recall the points" of the meditation and visualise the scene depicted ^composition of -place"). Then the mind has to reason over each of the points, making comparisons, and applications, deriving fruit, and gaining a clearer vision of the meaning of things. Then the will has to stir up love and repentance and purpose of amendment. The three faculties of the mind have thus to be kept constantly active; the memory, the intellect, and the will. And although the strain of one hour of such prayer on young novices is very severe, while on retreat they must pray mentally for an hour and a quarter, each of four times a day. In addition, they hear exhortations lasting in all a few hours, and read spiritual books of the driest kind. It is therefore not to be wondered at that many novices break down and become unnerved during retreats. Those however who do not break down are gripped by the retreat and make the most fervent resolutions to devote their whole lives to attaining perfection. Needless to say they come to see clearly that for them salvation lies in guarding their vocation to the Society.

My personal experience of directing retreats, for as a Jesuit I directed a considerable number, led me to become very sceptical of the good that they produce. They stir up for a short time spiritual tension and excitement, during which period Exercitants, carried away by emotion, make many generous and noble resolutions. But when the retreat is past, and the tension and excitement over, these resolutions.fade into mere memories. As often as not a reaction to the repression of the retreat sets in and the Exercitant rebounds so much that, after a while, he finds himself farther away from God

than ever. Added to this, most people are mentally and temperamentally incapable of the "faculty praying" that Ignatius insists upon. The mind inevitably wanders, unless strong emotional interest is aroused, and fretful attempts to drag back attention result in fatigue and discouragement. The Ignatian mental prayer results in futile efforts to conquer distractibility, to the loss of peaceful union of soul with God. Retreats are a cruel form of torture in the case, for instance, of simple country girls, just gathered into a convent, and clothed in the habits of nuns, and forced to spend several hours a day juggling with "mental faculties," about the existence of which they were hardly aware before the retreat started. Yet, the "Spiritual Exercises" are regarded as the great contribution of the Jesuits to religious life. How few realise the immense.wilderness of misery, depression and weariness of soul that they cause in the hearts of hundreds of thousands of poor religious, forced by rule to make them every year!

The Sforitual Exercises is of course the Koran of the Jesuits and one dare not breathe a word of criticism of it in the Order. Its shortcomings however have been pointed out by members of the Benedictine Order. It introduces a spirit of military discipline and coercive thinking into, prayer. It reduces praying to something not remotely unlike a cross-word puzzle. It raises conscious thinking, goaded to activity by will efforts, above normal semi-conscious thinking. It aims at producing by force emotions and affections. It sounds the death-knell of simple, unsophisticated praying, and introduces an atmosphere of strain and tension. It leaves little or nothing for the Holy Spirit to do. It points out a way of spiritual progress that is almost independent of the Spirit. Of old it used to be thought that spiritual movements of holy joy or holy sorrow came from above. But hear Ignatius! "When he who is being exercised does not attain the affection sought, as grief or consolation, it is expedient every now and then to change the 'plan of food- and sleep and other kinds of penance" Spiritual exaltation was to be won by strategy! "The fourth is to set about the contemplation itself, now kneeling on the ground, arid lying on my face or on my back, now sitting or standing, and composing myself in the way in which I may hope the more easily to attain what I desire"

Turning now to, what I may call the "technique" of the "Spiritual Exercises," we find that Ignatius was exceedingly preoccupied with external details.

"As to the time of the Exercises it must be so distributed that the first may be performed at midnight; the second in the morning, as soon as we are up; the third before or after the sacrifice of Mass, before we have taken food; the fourth about the hour of vespers; the fifth in the hour before supper." Before going to sleep the Exercitant must for a few moments run over the points of the coming meditation, and he must think of the time of rising. When he awakens he must at once fill his mind with pious thoughts in harmony with the exercise he is about to make. "Engaged therefore with these or other thoughts according to the nature of things to be meditated on let me put on my clothes . . . while yet separated by one or two 'paces from the 'place of my coming meditation . . . I think of my lord Jesus as 'present and seeing what I am about to do, to whom I must exhibit reverence with an humble gesture . . . and set about the contemplation itself y now kneeling on the ground and lying on my face or on my back," etc. Evidently Ignatius was deeply concerned about posture as a concomitant of inner spiritual activity. The appropriate physical position had to be found and when found held. "If on my knees or in any other posture I obtain what I wish, I seek nothing further." The appropriate emotion had by all means to be procured. "I shall strive earnestly to stir myself up to sorrow and grief." In the contemplation on "Sin," the Exercitant is "to break forth into exclamations from a vehement commotion of feelings." When he falls into some fault he makes a sign or gesture. "As often as one has been guilty of that kind of sin or fault (against which one has resolved), putting his hand to his breast let him grieve for his fall which may be done, even when others are present, without their perceiving it." Gestures, movements and posture, evidently meant much to Ignatius.

Next we come to Ignatian technique of visualising and forming "a composition of place." "In every meditation or contemplation about a bodily thing, as for example about Christ, we must form, according to a certain imaginary vision, a bodily place representing what we contemplate, in which we may find Christ Jesus, or the Virgin Mary, and the other things which concern the subject of

our Contemplation." He gives examples at times of these "Compositions of Place." Thus in the Meditation on the Incarnation, "an imaginary vision as of the whole circuit of the earth, inhabited by so many different nations, lies open before the eyes. Then in one particular part of the world let the cottage of the Virgin situated at Nazareth, ^in the province of Galilee, be beheld." Ignatius who loved the concrete, to taste, touch, smell, and sense things, was quite clearly gifted with exceptional powers of visualising and projecting his own imagery. His many visions of shapes, and lights, and beings, as recounted in his autobiography, prove that he possessed this gift. He is constantly urging the Exercitant to employ "sensing" of the imaginary, "to apply the five senses," but to this we shall return later.

In the "Three Methods of Prayer" technique plays again a big role. Here for instance is an example of the kind of directions given. "The Second Method of Prayer is to kneel or sit (according to the state of the body and the devotion of the mind) and with the eyes either closed or fixed down to one place, and not moved to and fro, to say the Lord's prayer from the beginning, and on the first word, that is on 'Pater,' to fix the meditation so long as various significations, likenesses, spiritual tastes, and other devout motions concerning that word shall present themselves; and in like manner we shall do successively with each word of the same or another prayer." In the above direction there reappears the Igna-tian preoccupation about posture, sitting or kneeling, the eyes being either closed or fixed, "according to the state of the body and the devotion of the mind."

The third form of prayer is a departure in the direction of Indian rhythmic breathing. "Between the several times of drawing breath, I pronounce the several words of the Lord's or some other prayer." The timing and counting of spiritual things enters largely into the Spiritual Exercises. In the "Particular Examen," a form of scrutiny of conscience, rules for the counting and bookkeeping of faults are laid down, and daily and weekly audits are imposed. "The second sifting (after the hour of supper) will have to be made by running through in like manner the several hours which have elapsed from the former to the present examination; and in the same way remembering and enumerating the times he has been

in fault, he will mark the same number of points in the second line of a figure like the one below ... at night having counted and compared . . . comparing together the examinations of the second and the preceding day . . . and in like manner the examinations of the two weeks . . ." etc. These phrases will, however unintelligible to the reader, convey the idea of statistics and bookkeeping, in the spiritual method of Ignatius. Lest it be thought that I have over-emphasised this mathematical and technical aspect of the Exercises, let me quote a page of the Exercises which is found in the second contemplation of the Passion of Christ.

"At the same time these four things must be noted. First, after the preparatory prayer, with the three preludes of this second exercise, we must proceed in the same method and order through the points and through the colloquy, as was performed in the preceding contemplation concerning the Supper. There will have, to be added also, about the time of Mass and Vespers, two repetitions of each of these two contemplations, and before supper we shall apply the five senses, prefixing always the preparatory prayer with the three preludes, suitable to the matter offered, as has been sufficiently described in the second week."

Is it unfair to take from its context a passage of this kind in order to emphasise the exceedingly technical and even mathematical nature of the Exercises? It may be, but after all one has a right to put to the severest test the oft repeated claim of the Jesuits that the Exercises are inspired. Let us quote, apropos of this claim, a passage from an Official Jesuit publication of the Belgian Province, the Imago Primi Sceculi (The Mirror of the First Century of the Society), written in 1640 to celebrate the first centenary of the Order.

"Ignatius clearly wrote them (the Exercises), but they were dictated to him by the Virgin. ... It was not for nothing that during the whole period of their composition she frequently appeared to him, and her light illuminated his spirit even more than his eyes." Even in the recent Catholic Encyclopedia the Jesuit writer of the article on the Exercises makes a claim for "inspiration." "We must therefore consider the revelation of the Exercises, not as a completely supernatural manifestation of all the truths contained in the work, but as a kind of inspiration or special divine assistance, which

prevented all essential error, and suggested many thoughts useful for the salvation of the author and of readers of all times." He also refers sympathetically to the revelation made in 1600 to Fr. Escobar, adding "this tradition has often been symbolised by painters, who represent Ignatius writing from the Blessed Virgin's dictation." So even to this day Jesuits cling to their faith in the "revelation" or "inspiration" of the Exercises. Furthermore, Jesuits are proud of the minute technique of the Exercises, and Fr. Debuchy, S.J., writes. "Nothing is left to chance (in the Exercises) . . . this art of proportioning spiritual instructions to the powers of the soul and to divine grace was entirely new, at least, under the precise and methodic form given to it by St. Ignatius."

Cardinal Wiseman and other writers favourable to the Exercises, always emphasise the fact that it is the reason that is mainly called into play; "the entire work is performed by -principles, not by emotions which pass away," and "whatever use is made of the feelings in the course of the Exercises is but as a scaffolding" (Wiseman). This claim must not be accepted too readily. There seem to be very serious grounds for thinking that it was largely through the feelings and emotions that Ignatius hoped to secure his results. Let us take for instance Ignatius' meditation on ''Hell."

As a composition of place the Exercitant is "to set before his eyes in imagination the length, breadth and depth of Hell," and having prayed for "an intimate perception of the punishments which the damned undergo" to pursue the points that follow. . "The first point is to see by the imagination the vast fires of Hell and the souls enclosed in certain fiery bodies, as it were in dungeons.

"The second, to hear in imagination the lamentations, the howl-ings, the exclamations and the blasphemies against Christ and His saints thence breaking forth.

"The third, to perceive by the smell of the imagination, the smoke, the brimstone and the stench of a kind of sink of filth and putrefaction.

"The fourth, to taste in like manner those most bitter things, as the tears, the rottenness, and the worm of conscience.

"The fifth, to touch in a manner those fires by the touch of which the souls themselves are burned."

It must not be overlooked that the Exercitant is supposed to feel

sensibly —not merely to conceive mentally. Thus, in a meditation on the Passion, he is told "to ask for grief, mourning, anxiety and the other inward pains of the kind, that he may suffer together with Christ suffering" Sometimes however there is question of a mystical sense, not belonging to the sensibility of the external senses, as when the Exercitant is told "by cm inward touch to handle and kiss the garments, places, footsteps and other things connected with such persons (Christ and Mary), whence he may derive a greater increase of devotion or other spiritual good." . . . Ignatius not infrequently calls for the exercise of this inner sense, as in "perceiving by a certain inward taste or smell how great is the sweetness and delightfulness of the soul imbued with the divine gifts and virtues." One has reason to doubt whether inexperienced and possibly hitherto irreligious Exercitants can perform such spiritual feats at the injunction of the Director.

Again and again Ignatius enjoins the stirring up of this or that kind of feeling. When terrifying or sorrowful subjects are to be meditated upon, light is to be cut off, and the meditations are to be made in darkness. On the other hand, when the joyful meditations of the fourth week are in progress, "I make use of the advantage of light and sky which shall offer itself; as in the time of spring, the sight of the green herbs and flowers, or the agreeableness of a sunny place; in the winter the welcome heat of the sun or of a fire; and so concerning the other suitable satisfactions of the body and mind." Fr. Roothan, a Jesuit General, in his commentary upon this passage grimly adds: "Far be it from us a certain other feeling of joy . . . that the labour of a long journey (the Exercises), is now drawing to a close."

St. Ignatius evidently expected a great chaos of feeling during the Retreat. "He who gives the Exercises, if he perceives that the one who receives them undergoes no spiritual commotions of the mlnd t such as are consolations or sadnesses; nor any agitations of different spirits; ought carefully to enquire If he 'performs the Exercises themselves at the prescribed times, and in what way" These "agitations" are attributed by Ignatius to interference on the part of spirits, and he took it as a very bad sign if no such interference occurred. "It is the property of every good angel to pour into the mind true spiritual joy, which they cause by taking away all that

sadness and disturbance of mind which the demon has thrown in." About the exits and entrances of the spirits, good and evil, and the signs that mark their presence, Ignatius treats in his rules for the "Discernment of Spirits." In the most definite, dogmatic, and matter of fact way, he describes subtle mystical experiences, and displays the most profound faith in the existence of diabolical wiles to ensnare the unwary soul, and the counter-plotting of angelical strategists. "Consolatory movements from heaven," such as give testimony to the perfection contained in cutting down food to sub-temperance standard (cf. "Rules for regulating Food"), are hard facts for Ignatius, as is the "inward taste or smell of the sweetness of the soul."

One of the difficulties that confronts the Exercitant who is a tyro in spiritual things is to distinguish between consolatory movements that are from above (of the spirit), and sensible movements that belong rather to the perception of bodily well-being. To "apply the senses" to intangible things such as the footprints of Christ (kissing them), is likewise a matter of great difficulty, and one has reason to speculate upon the amount of self-deception involved in such "Spiritual Exercises."

Were one to put succinctly the difference between the asceticism of Christ and the asceticism of Ignatius, one would say that the former was simple and the latter sophisticated. The religion of Christ is to conquer the world by LOVE, that of Ignatius, to conquer by STRATEGY. Christ was little preoccupied with organisation, he relied on the truth and beauty of His doctrine. For Ignatius organisation was all-important, and doctrines were to be forced on folk at the point of a syllogism. Ignatius was not however without a keen sense of the military grandeur of the warfare he was waging for Christ, and in some meditations he gives free scope to his exalted idea of Christian Chivalry. The warfare between the powers of good and the powers of evil was very real to Ignatius, and one of the secrets of the Exercises is the awakening, through reiterated suggestion, of a certain active interest in this gigantic war, so that the Exercitant may desire to take up arms and join in. Ignatius' age was not an age of pacifists. It was a fighting age, and every one was a potential soldier. A "Call to Arms" was something that awakened deep emotions in those days, and in the course of the

Exercises Ignatius issues a "Call to Arms" on behalf of Christ. This is done in the picturesque meditations of the Second Week, called the "Kingdom of Christ," and "Two Standards."

The Devil is raised to the dignity of a monarch on his throne, "a chair of fire and smoke," and he, "captain of the wicked and God's enemies," is "horrible in figure and terrible in countenance," but he commands "a countless number of demons whom he disperses through the whole world in order to do mischief; no cities or places; no kinds of persons being left free." He, the Devil, "is accustomed also to imitate some leader of war who desiring to take and plunder a citadel which he has besieged, having first ascertained the nature and strength of the place, attacks the weaker part." He is full of strategy. He stirs up his soldiers "to seize and secure (sinners) in snares and chains." He presents "allurements of the flesh and senses that he may keep them full of sin." He works on the soul infusing trouble and depression. "The malignant spirit suggests feelings of molestation, scruples, sadnesses, false reasonings and other such disturbances by which to impede advance." He disguises himself. "It is the custom of the malignant spirit to transfigure himself into an angel of light, and having known the pious desires of the soul, first to second them, and then soon after to entice her to his own perverse wishes." His camp is in "the country round Babylon," and his purpose is to war down Christ.

Christ, the King, "Chief-General of all the good people" has his camp "in a most extensive plain round Jerusalem," He is "very beautiful in form and in appearance supremely worthy of love." He sends his disciples and other ministers through the whole world to impart His sacred and saving doctrine to every race, state, and condition of men. He too employs strategy, for He bids his followers to "lead men to a spiritual affection of poverty" and then to higher things. His call (given in the first meditation of the second week) is as follows: "I propose to subject to My power all the countries of the unbelievers. Whosoever, therefore, chooses to follow Me, let him be prepared to use no other food, clothing, or other things than he sees Me using.- He must also persevere in the same labours, watchings and other difficulties with Me, that each may partake of the felicity in proportion as he shall have been a companion of the labours and troubles."

In the paragraph which follows we find clear evidence of the chivalrous ideas of Ignatius. "Consider what His faithful subjects ought to answer this most loving and liberal King, and how promptly to offer themselves prepared for all His will. And on the other hand if any one did not hearken, of how great reproach he would be worthy among all men, and how worthless a soldier he would have to be accounted." "There will be no one of a sound mind who will not most eagerly offer and dedicate himself entire to the service of Christ."

When Ignatius refers to the Trinity his notions of thrones and kingship also colour his thoughts. "Next must be contemplated the three Divine Persons on their royal throne, looking upon all the races of men, living as blind on the surface" of the earth, and descending into Hell."

Although the blare of trumpets is not heard, nor the steady beat of marching soldiers' feet, nor the roar of guns, we have in the Exercises, especially those of the second week, all the tension and excitement of war; a war to the death, in which there is heard the triumphant shouts of the victors and the anguished cries of the slain, and in which there is strategy and counter-strategy; manoeuvre and counter-manoeuvre. Angels and devils clash swords within the souls of men and rewards and punishments, glory and shame, are outcomes of the strife.

. One cannot find fault with Ignatius for reflecting in his book the mode of thinking of his age. Indeed anything else would be impossible, even in an "inspired" manuscript. The Ptolemaic system; the divine right of kings; chivalry and the nobility of organised bloodshed; devil-phobia; intolerance; religious pessimism; and so forth, representing the ideas of his times, all enter into the Exercises and inevitably very much narrow and limit their scope and application as an instrument of asceticism. But, to the writer, what seems to mar the Exercises more than anything else, is its fundamental doctrine that strategy must be used In religion, and that victory is to be won less by love, as Christ taught, than by craft and guile.

There is another feature of the asceticism of the Exercises to which reference must be made. It is the doctrine of "indifferent-ism." It implies complete detachment, not only from what is evil, but also from what is in itself harmless or indifferent. One must

grow cold to all things: love of friends, country, parents; particular interests; kinds of learning; and "with a fixed mind be equally inclined toward riches or poverty, honour or ignominy, shortness or length of life." In fine the ideal put forward is that of a soldier held by no tie of affection, burthened by no choice or fancy, utterly detached from all natural desire, having no preference, "inclining to neither side as regards embracing or rejecting the thing in question, but rather standing in a kind of middle interval or equilibrium, the mind meanwhile being prepared to follow at once and altogether that course which shall (ultimately) be perceived to be more conducive to the divine glory and his own salvation." Indifferentism entails such an absorption in the final end, the Will of God, that it kills off all attachments to secondary ends or means (the good things of life included), and engenders necessarily an attitude of aloofness, coldness and ennui. The beautiful things that grow; all that science has to say thereon; human love with its impulses; .music, dance and song; the conquering of nature;' art and dreams, have no value in themselves, and must be bartered for whatever helps piety.

"But the other things which are placed on the earth," explains Ignatius, "were created for man's sake, that they might assist him in pursuing the end of his creation. Whence it follows that they are to be used or abstained from in proportion as they profit or hinder him in pursuing that end. Wherefore we ought to be indifferent toward all created things."

The Exercises are the spiritual food on which Jesuits are nurtured. They are the meat and drink on which their souls are fed during long years, and hence it is not to be wondered at that the two chief features of the asceticism of the Exercises, "strategy in spiritual things," and "indifferentism" leading to cold aloofness, should be so noticeable in Jesuits as to be regarded as distinctly characteristic of them.

There is an element of religious apologetics in the Exercises which render them less acceptable to non-Catholics. This is most marked in the rules given "For thinking with the Orthodox Church," in which occurs Ignatius' profession of faith in Infallibility. "That we may in all things attain the truth we ought ever to hold it as a

fixed principle, that what I see white, I believe to be black, if the Hierarchical Church so define it to be."

Among these rules we find the following. "We are also to approve zealously the decrees, mandates, traditions, rites and manners (lives), of the Fathers or Superiors." The sixth rule reads. We must "praise moreover the veneration and invocation of the saints; also the stations and pious pilgrimages; indulgences; jubilees; the candles accustomed to be lighted in the churches; and the other helps of this kind to our piety and devotion."

Fasts; penances, internal and external; the construction of churches; images; the precepts of the Church; theology (positive and scholastic), etc., are likewise to be praised. In fact all those things with which the reformers found fault are to be praised.

Ignatius' pious credulity betrays itself in his arbitrary locating of the birthplace of Eve "in the plain of Damascus," and in apportioning a servant girl as attendant on the Virgin Mary when she travelled to Bethlehem with Joseph. He betrays a Calvinistic spirit when in laying down "Rules for Food" he ordains pious meditation during meals, in order that "the mind being thus abstracted y the food. Itself and- the 'pleasure of eating may be little 'perceived" Indeed these rules seem to have as object the elimination of all such pleasure. He does not feel anxious ^a^out the consumption of bread "since it neither excites gluttony so much nor equally lays us open to temptation." Sweet and delicate foods, however, are to be strictly moderated "since by them greater occasion is furnished both to the appetite to sin and to the enemy to tempt."

Certain critics of the Exercises have pointed out that they are calculated to produce abnormal nervous states in those who make them, even to the extent of producing hallucinary ecstasies, and indeed in Ignatius' annotations there is a warning against giving the exercises indiscriminately. Usually women were not allowed to make them. Acquaviva, writing to the Rector of Spier, 5 said: "As we have often written before, it does not seem worth while to give the Spiritual Exercises to women. ... It will suffice if our members try to help them by means of spiritual books." Whether the reason of such a ruling was that the Order considered women too highly strung, or (as is implied in the Directorium) too deficient

6 July i, 1600.

mentally, is not wholly clear. No doubt Acquaviva remembered that Ignatius' exhortations in Alkala had thrown women into fits and hysterias of an alarming kind, and he was anxious to prevent a recurrence of such things.

There can be no doubt but that the Exercises have a very unfortunate effect upon Exercitants predisposed to depression or troubled with an inferiority complex. Some of the meditations are calculated to drive such people insane. For instance. "The third is to consider myself, who or of what kind I am, adding comparisons which may bring me to a greater contempt of myself as if I reflect how little I am when compared with all men . . . lastly let me look at the corruption of my whole self, the wickedness of my souly and the 'pollution of my body, and account myself to be a kind of ulcer or boll, from which so great and foul a flood of sins, so great a pestilence of vices has flown down" The Exercitant is furthermore to consider that "the sky, the sun, the moon, and the other heavenly bodies, the elements and all kinds of animals and productions of the earth in place of vengeance due, have given service . . . how lastly the earth has not opened and swallowed him up, unbaring a thousand hells, in which he should suffer everlasting punishments."

Jesuits complain 6 that modern criticisms of the Exercises, which they call "attacks" are "generally unscientific, inspired by passion, and made without any preliminary examination of the 'question." What is a critic to say when he finds that even Generals of the Order like Acquaviva consider that the Exercises should not be given to women? What is he to say when he finds that the kind of spiritual food contained in the Exercises is unsuitable for the majority of Christians? Has he not good reason to think that this book, however much praised and blessed, is grotesque in its asceticism? He compares it for instance with the New Testament, and finds that unlike the New Testament it cannot be used without much danger of harm. Its spirit he finds different, and its effects on the soul he finds very contrary. From calm and pious reading of the one, peace of soul is derived. From contact with the other v there arises strain, excitement, and a kind of spiritual vengefulness. He discovers an elaborate and excessive technique in the Exercises, 6 Cf. Fr. Debuchy, S.J., Catholic Encyclopedia,

together with a conscious and calculated forcing 1 up of feelings and emotions. There is intemperate vehemence in some meditations, and the inculcation of morbid pessimism in others. There is no little sentimentality displayed in the kissing of pious places or objects, and a somewhat mawkish mysticism in "tasting and smelling sweetnesses." There is so much reiteration of the principle of "going against" every impulse of nature that one begins to question its ascetical value. Finally, there is so much "talking down" to the Exercitant, and so many needlessly dogmatic pronouncements, that resistance and resentment are awakened.

There is a lack of harmony, of gentle moderation and sweet reasonableness, that provokes the critic to diagnose immaturity.

In spite however of its shortcomings and imperfections, the Spiritual Exercises proved to be a wonder-working book. No doubt suggestion played a very large role in the results it achieved. Those who entered under its thraldom were expectant of marvels and the marvels happened. Rich men found themselves parting with their hard-won and dearly loved gold. Ecclesiastical diplomats, who had secured rich benefices, after years of painstaking intrigue, made the Exercises and resigned their much prized offices. Soldiers laid down their trusty swords; professors gave up their honourable chairs. Nobles made over their large estates to their relatives or to the Society. Don Juans abandoned their reckless pursuit of pleasures. And meanwhile, the pages of the little book that we have been occupied with, awakened ideals that inspired chivalrous souls to dare and do great things for the King, who is so "beautiful in form and in appearance so supremely worthy of 1 love."

CHAPTER IV

THE MIND OF THE JESUIT ORDER

THE Jesuit Institute is defined as "the way of living and working -peculiar to the Order" The underlying spirit, the "mind of the Order," finds expression in its "way of living and working," and in "the written documents authorised by legitimate authority which describe it." *

There is abundant material for studying the mind of the Order, for Jesuit works are very varied in kind, from growing vines in Australia, to teaching diplomacy in Washington, and official "written documents" which give rules and ordinances for Jesuit behaviour, are, to say the least, voluminous. But in spite of this abundance of material, the "Mind of the Jesuit Order" is beyond the reach of ordinary investigators. For "the Jesuit way of living and working" is in its essentials rather heavily veiled, and inquisitive eyes that would fain pierce this veil are baulked.

Jesuits, nevertheless, complain of critics who write about them without contemplating them in the nude. "It is notoriously impossible," writes Fr. Pollen, S.J., 2 "to expect that a.nti-Jesuit writers of our day should face their subject in a commonsense and scientific manner . . . the only rational manner of enquiry into the subject would be to approach the persons under discussion." But what do we find when we follow the "commonsense and scientific manner" and approach Jesuits to ask them about themselves? We have, let us suppose, been reading the Jesuit Constitutions, and have been astonished to find elaborate provisions for spying and secret denunciation; for expelling members without trial or judiciary procedure; for punishing and incarcerating members, and we feel that there is an element of great harshness in these enactments. But before forming a final judgment we turn to Fr. Pollen, S.J., to seek enlightenment. He tells us 8 with unction that "the rule

1 Epit. Inst, 4.

2 Catholic Encyclopedia, "The Society." s Catholic Encyclopedia.

throughout is one of love inspired by wisdom, and it must be interpreted in the spirit of charity which animates it. This is especially true of its provisions for the affectionate relations of members with Superiors and with one another."

Or, let us suppose, we have been reading the Papal Brief of Clement XIV in which he enumerates the evils he found in the Order at the time he suppressed it in 1773, and before forming any judgment about the state of the Order at that time, we turn to the Jesuit General, Fr. Roothan, to enquire of him, as regards the matter. He replies as follows, leaving us again somewhat puzzled:

"When the Society began its third century, it was flourishing and vigorous as it always had been in literature, theology, and eloquence; it engaged in the education of youth with distinguished success, in some countries without rivals, in others it was second almost to no other religious Order; its zeal for souls was exercised on behalf of men of every condition of life, not only in the countries of Europe, Catholic and Protestant alike, but among the savages of the remotest parts of the world, nor was the commendation awarded them less than the fruit they had gathered and what is more important, amid the applause they won and the favours they were granted, their pursuit of genuine piety and holiness was such, that although in the vast number of more than twenty thousand then in the Society, there may have been a few, a very few y who In their life and conduct were not altogether what they should have been } and who in consequence brought sorrow on that best of Mothers, the Society, nevertheless there were very many in every province who were conspicuous for sanctity and who diffused far and wide the good odour of Jesus Christ. . . . It seemed like a splendid abiding place of science and piety and virtue; an august temple extending over the earthy consecrated to the glory of God, and the salvation of souls"

Thus, when enquirers seek further information about the Rules, or about the state of the Order at the time when Christ's Vicar considered it his duty to suppress it, they are told by Jesuits that the Rule is one of "love inspired by wisdom" and that the Order in its worst days was "a splendid, abiding place of science, piety and virtue." But there are other reasons, more serious still, for doubting if it is "scientific and commonsense" to ask Jesuits about their way of living and working.

Jesuits are forbidden by rule to disclose information about their doings. 4 "Let no one tell outsiders what has been done or is about to be done at home, unless he knows that he has the Superior's approval for so doing. Books or manuscripts concerning the doings of 'Ours' which are not written for the general public are not to be shown to outsiders without the Superior's express consent." And Jesuits are warned, 5 "to be diligently on their guard in private conversations and in answering questions . . . lest they say anything which they are unwilling should be published."

Again, even when among themselves, Jesuits are sternly forbidden to criticise the Constitutions. At Provincial Congregations, where the forty senior professed fathers of the Province assemble in secret conclave, no one may dare to broach the subject of a modification of the Constitutions, or to venture to find fault with them. To propose a change in the Constitutions to any save the Pope, the General, or a General Congregation is to incur dire penalties; to attack the Constitutions is one of the worst crimes a Jesuit can commit. By so doing he incurs excommunication! Is it likely then that Jesuits will give information to enquirers as regards any defects or shortcomings in their holy Rule?

Furthermore if an enquirer seeks in the published reports of the General Congregations for information about the things that have disturbed and agitated the Society, his labour will be in yain. No minutes of these meetings are published. The interesting things, the "private matters," are kept secret even from the members of the Order.

Fr. Campbell 6 well illustrates the Jesuit mentality, in referring to the punishment inflicted by Superiors on Fr. Portillo, S.J.: "It is very gratifying to learn that outside the domestic precincts, no one ever knew the reason of this drastic measure."

There is, needless to say, a characteristic "Jesuit way" or mentality well worthy of study, if only it can be got at. Jesuits themselves constantly use the expression, "Our way of doing things," and if one among them employs any other way he is looked upon askance and it is said of him that he is not "one of Ours." The Jesuit "way" has reference to the traditional customs of the Order; it is discreet, unemotional, calculating; it is in keeping with edifica-

4 Epit. Const., 237. G Ibid., 238. e The Jesuits, p. 55. ,

tion, with "good form" of an ecclesiastical kind; it is undemonstrative, but of a kind likely to attract the attention and admiration of "thoughtful Catholics." It is cautious, conservative, diplomatic, and in the background one finds that the reputation and selfish interests of the Order are kept well in mind. It surprises pious people at first when they come up against the Jesuit "way." They approach the Jesuits, asking them to co-operate in some good work, and they find to their astonishment that the Order, in spite of its high reputation for apostolic zeal, is unprepared to help, though it always gives a very plausible reason for not doing so. Cardinal Wiseman, to take one example, found out the "Jesuit way" when he sought co-operation from them, in the work of his archdiocese of Westminster. He wrote to Fr. F. W. Faber, the famous Ora-

torian: 7

"The Jesuits here have a splendid church (Farm Street, Mayfair, London), a large house, several priests. . . . Scarcely was I settled in London when I applied to the Superior to establish here a community in due form, of some ten or twelve Fathers. I also asked for missionaries to give retreats to Congregations, etc. I was answered on both heads that dearth of subjects made it impossible. Hence we have under them only a church which by its splendour attracts and absorbs the wealth of two parishes, but maintains no schools, and contributes nothing to the education of the poor at its very door; I could say more but I refrain."

In the Mind of the Order immense importance is attached to uniformity in all things. There must be uniformity in the external bearing of Jesuits as witnessed by the "Rules of Modesty." There must be uniformity in all spiritual methods and practices; in the saying of Mass; in the use of a definite type of mental prayer; in the hearing of confessions, "so that all may understand that by a mutual bond of charity and uniformity the confessors of the Society are bound together"; there must,be uniformity even in the method and spirit of preaching. In preaching, the telling of anecdotes, or funny stories, or the laying too much stress on emotions should be avoided as "alien to the common custom of preaching in the Society."

The arch-rule of uniformity is given in the "Summary." 8

7 October 27, 1852. • 8 Rule 42.

CHAPTER IV

THE MIND OF THE JESUIT ORDER

THE Jesuit Institute is defined as "the way of living and working peculiar to the Order" The underlying spirit, the "mind of the Order," finds expression in its "way of living and working," and in "the written documents authorised by legitimate authority which describe it." *

There is abundant material for studying the mind of the Order, for Jesuit works are very varied in kind, from growing vines in Australia, to teaching diplomacy in Washington, and official "written documents" which give rules and ordinances for Jesuit behaviour, are, to say the least, voluminous. But in spite of this abundance of material, the "Mind of the Jesuit Order" is beyond the reach of ordinary investigators. For "the Jesuit way of living and working" is in its essentials rather heavily veiled, and inquisitive eyes that would fain pierce this veil are baulked.

Jesuits, nevertheless, complain of critics who write about them without contemplating them in the nude. "It is notoriously impossible," writes Fr. Pollen, S.J., 2 "to expect that anti-Jesuit writers of our day should face their subject in a commonsense and scientific manner . . . the only rational manner of enquiry into the subject would be to approach the persons under discussion." But what do we find when we follow the "commonsense and scientific manner" and approach Jesuits to ask them about themselves? We have, let us suppose, been reading the Jesuit Constitutions, and have been astonished to find elaborate provisions for spying and secret denunciation; for expelling members without trial or judiciary procedure; for punishing and incarcerating members, and we feel that there is an element of great harshness in these enactments. But before forming a final judgment we turn to Fr. Pollen, S.J., to seek enlightenment. He tells us 3 with unction that "the rule

1 Epit. Inst., 4.

2 Catholic Encyclopedia, "The Society." 8 Catholic Encyclopedia.

throughout is one of love inspired by wisdom, and it must be interpreted in the spirit of charity which animates it. This is especially true of its provisions for the affectionate relations of members with Superiors and with one another."

Or, let us suppose, we have been reading the Papal Brief of Clement XIV in which he enumerates the evils he found in the Order at the time he suppressed it in 1773, and before forming any judgment about the state of the Order at that time, we turn to the Jesuit General, Fr. Roothan, to enquire of him, as regards the matter. He replies as follows, leaving us again somewhat puzzled:

"When the Society began its third century, it was flourishing and vigorous as it always had been in literature, theology, and eloquence; it engaged in the education of youth with distinguished success, in some countries without rivals, in others it was second almost to no other religious Order; its zeal for souls was exercised on behalf of men of every condition of life, not only in the countries of Europe, Catholic and Protestant alike, but among the savages of the remotest parts of the world, nor was the commendation awarded them less than the fruit they had gathered and what is more important, amid the applause they won and the favours they were granted, their pursuit of genuine piety and holiness was such, that although in the vast number of more than twenty thousand then in the Society, ther-e may have been a few, a very few, 'who in their life and conduct were not altogether what they should have been, and who in consequence brought sorrow on that best of Mothers, the Society, nevertheless there were very many in every province who were conspicuous for sanctity and who diffused far and wide the good odour of Jesus Christ. . . . It seemed like a splendid abiding 'place of science and 'piety and virtue; an august temple extending over the earth, consecrated to the glory of God, and the salvation of souls."

Thus, when enquirers seek further information about the Rules, or about the state of the Order at the time when Christ's Vicar considered it his duty to suppress it, they are told by Jesuits that the Rule is one of "love inspired by wisdom" and that the Order in its worst days was "a sglendid, abiding-place of science, piety and virtue." But there are other reasons, more serious still, for doubting if it is "scientific and commonsense" to ask Jesuits about their way of living and working.

Jesuits are forbidden by rule to disclose information about their doings. 4 "Let no one tell outsiders what has been done or is about to be done at home, unless he knows that he has the Superior's approval for so doing. Books or manuscripts concerning the doings of c Ours' which are not written for the general public are not to be shown to outsiders without the Superior's express consent." And Jesuits are warned, 5 "to be diligently on their guard in private conversations and in answering questions . . . lest they say anything which they are unwilling should be published."

Again, even when among themselves, Jesuits are sternly forbidden to criticise the Constitutions. At Provincial Congregations, where the forty senior professed fathers of the Province assemble in secret conclave, no one may dare to broach the subject of a modification of the Constitutions, or to venture to find fault with them. To propose a change in the Constitutions to any save the Pope, the General, or a General Congregation is to incur dire penalties; to attack the Constitutions is one of the worst crimes a Jesuit can commit. By so doing he incurs excommunication! Is it likely then that Jesuits will give information to enquirers as regards any defects or shortcomings in their holy Rule?

Furthermore if an enquirer seeks in the published reports of the General Congregations for information about the things that have disturbed and agitated the Society, his labour will be in vain. No minutes of these meetings are published. The interesting things, the "private matters," are kept secret even from the members of the Order.

Fr. Campbell 6 well illustrates the Jesuit mentality, in referring to the punishment inflicted by Superiors on Fr. Portillo, S.J.: "It is very gratifying to learn that outside the domestic precincts, no one ever knew the reason of this drastic measure."

There is, needless to say, a characteristic "Jesuit way" or mentality well worthy of study, if only it can be got at. Jesuits themselves constantly use the expression, "Our way of doing things," and if one among them employs any other way he is looked upon askance and it is said of him that he is not "one of Ours." The Jesuit "way" has reference to the traditional customs of the Order; it is discreet, unemotional, calculating; it is in keeping with edifica-4 Epit. Const., 237- B Ibid., 238. 6 The Jesuits, p. 55.

tion, with "good form" of an ecclesiastical kind; it is undemonstrative, but of a kind likely to attract the attention and admiration of "thoughtful Catholics." It is cautious, conservative, diplomatic, and in the background one finds that the reputation and selfish interests of the Order are kept well in mind. It surprises pious people at first when they come up against the Jesuit "way." They approach the Jesuits, asking them to co-operate in some good work, and they find to their astonishment that the Order, in spite of its high reputation for apostolic zeal, is unprepared to help, though it always gives a very plausible reason for not doing so. Cardinal Wiseman, to take one example, found out the "Jesuit way" when he sought co-operation from them, in the work of his archdiocese of Westminster. He wrote to Fr. F. W. Faber, the famous Ora-

torian: 7

"The Jesuits here have a splendid church (Farm Street, Mayfair, London), a large house, several priests. . . . Scarcely was I settled in London when I applied to the Superior to establish here a community in due form, of some ten or twelve Fathers. I also asked for missionaries to give retreats to Congregations, etc. I was answered on both heads that dearth of subjects made it impossible. Hence we have under them only a church which by its splendour attracts and absorbs the wealth of two parishes, but maintains no schools, and contributes nothing to the education of the poor at its very door; I could say more but I refrain."

In the Mind of the Order immense importance is attached to uniformity in all things. There must be uniformity in the external bearing of Jesuits as witnessed by the "Rules of Modesty." There must be uniformity in all spiritual methods and practices; in the saying of Mass; in the use of a definite type of mental prayer; in the hearing of confessions, "so that all may understand that by a mutual bond of charity and uniformity the confessors of the Society are bound together"; there must be uniformity even in the method and spirit of preaching. In preaching, the telling of anecdotes, or funny stories, or the laying too much stress on emotions should be avoided as "alien to the common custom of preaching in the Society."

The arch-rule of uniformity is given in the "Summary." 8 7 October 27, 1852. • 8 Rule 42.

"Let us all think and as far as possible say the same things. . . . Differences of doctrine are not to be tolerated either in word or in public utterances or in written books. . . . Furthermore, difference of opinion as regards things to be done, which is wont to be the mother of discord and inimical to union of will, is as far as possible to be avoided. Mutual union and conformity is most diligently to be sought after nor are obstacles to it to be permitted."

In order to secure uniformity of political opinion, or, rather, perhaps the absence of all political opinion, a rule ordains that "in the Society there must not be, or seem to be, any propensity of mind towards either side in any quarrel which may happen to exist between Christian princes or lords."

It is surely a noteworthy characteristic of Jesuit mentality, to legislate for such complete and of course impossible uniformity as that of "thinking and as far as possible saying the same thing."

In the Fourth Part of the Constitutions, 9 the Order legislates concerning "The Doctrine to be held in the Society" and the "Means to be taken to avoid dangerous Doctrines." Here the "Mind of the Order" reveals itself as perhaps nowhere else. Above all— safety! "In every faculty Ours must follow the more safe (jsecuriorem) and- more approved doctrine > and the authors that teach it" Therefore no risks may be taken. In cases where there is diversity of opinion, that is to say where it is impossible to say which is the "safer and more approved doctrine," Ours must unanimously stand together and teach the same doctrine. Uniformity, therefore, must supply for the absence of perfect safety! Needless to say the close following of Saint Thomas is insisted upon. "Those are to be chosen as Professors who are Thomistic enthusiasts" (erga S. Doctorem bene affecti). Professors must beware of "overmuch trusting their own judgment in putting forward new interpretations, discovered by themselves, as Thomas' true doctrine."

Superiors are to admonish and, if incorrigible, remove from office any Professors who are less well affected towards Saint Thomas, or who do not teach in its totality the doctrine approved in the Society, or who make little of the great Doctors of the Order, or who defend their own opinions immoderately. ^

"In general Superiors must carefully and constantly be on the »Cf. Epit., 314-323.

watch to preserve Ours from the contamination of unrestrained study of new things (novltatum), and dangerous freedom In thinking (j>erlculosa ofonandl llcentla) ."

It is not enough that an opinion be not condemned. Before being put forward, care must be taken to discover whether or not an opinion is in conformity with the mind of the Church as already clearly manifested in the writings of the Fathers, and approved Doctors. Nothing new may be put forward which is not wholly in accord with Christian faith and piety. If it could deservedly offend the faithful it should not be put forward! Then follows a clause, 10 which reduces to a position of utter slavery and subjection the Jesuit Professor of Theology or Philosophy or Science; a clause which in itself exposes the Order's conservatism, absolutism, and equivocal attitude towards Truth. "Let no Professor Introduce a new question or voice any opinion of any moment, which Is not espoused by. an approved author y even though It Involve no danger to Faith and Piety y unless he first of all consult his Superiors about the matter" And in case he is uncertain whether or not the opinion he proposes to discuss be new or not, he is to hurry to his Superior to ask his opinion on the matter and to be guided by him.

It would be impossible to find in all the world more utterly humiliating conditions imposed upon a Professor. Let us sum up the matter thus.

Fr. M. is appointed by the Society to profess Philosophy because he is known to be a Thomistic "fan," and of a docile and submissive temperament, and averse to new things and dangerous novelties. He commences his course of lectures, taking the utmost pains to interpret Saint Thomas in a safe, approved and conservative way, meanwhile seizing every opportunity to praise the great Jesuit Doctors. He carefully avoids every new opinion, every thing that, although not condemned by the Church, might possibly endanger piety. If he cannot avoid quoting some non-Catholic author he+takes care not to praise him, and tries to show that the non-Catholic derived the good thing he said from some Catholic author; in fine, that he was a plagiarist. ^He represses any tendency towards original speculation, knowing that if he displayed any such tendency he would be at once reprimanded and would lose his Professorship. At

10 Cf. Epit., 319-

length comes the day of temptation! An opinion presents itself to his mind which seems interesting, important and a little original. May he put it before his class? He considers the matter. The opinion is clearly not contrary to Faith, Morals, the doctrine of the Society, the teaching of Thomas, nor does it contain anything that could in the least offend pious Catholics or endanger their piety. He may, therefore, put forward this opinion? No, certainly not! The opinion is not clearly derived from any great approved Doctor (nullius idonei sit auctoris). Or if it is to be found in such an author, it is only ambiguously expressed, and it might be pointed out that it is a matter of doubt whether or not the author in question taught it. Hence Fr. M. must hasten to his Superior, if necessary keeping his class waiting, and ask approval for putting forward this safe, pious, Catholic, Thomistic, conservative, but possibly slightly original opinion. Such is the position of the Jesuit Professor of Philosophy! Such the attitude of the Jesuit Order towards Science! And yet, what Hypocrisy! In the section of the Constitutions which follows we find this profession of liberalism. 11

t( By no means does the Society wish to restrict a just liberty as regards doubtful matters; much less does it wish to inveigh against a right use of scholarship and criticism and of all the helps most usefully derived from the progress of Science." This interesting part of the Jesuit Constitutions terminates with directions about the use of forbidden books and dangerous periodicals. Only a Provincial can give permission to read a forbidden book. He may only give such permission after deliberation and for a serious reason. He who gets the book must under pain of mortal sin so carefully guard it that it cannot fall into the hands of another. No young Jesuit is to be allowed to read periodicals or books, which even though not "forbidden" may be in some respects dangerous. The result of all these restrictions is frankly admitted by Fr. T. J. Campbell, S.J. "It is quite true," he writes, "that the 'philosophers of the Society have never evolved any independent philosophical or theological thought, in the modern acceptation of that term" 12

• • •••• • » •

In the Mind of the Order, as revealed in "the way of living and working peculiar to the Order," there is to be found much worldly 11 Epit, 322. " The Jesuits, p. 378.

wisdom, not far removed from craftiness. Sometimes it borders on guile and cunning. Jesuits themselves admit its existence but they generally use the euphemistic term, "long-headedness," and find its sacred origin in the "long-headedness of Saint Ignatius." One can find examples of this characteristic in almost every section of the Jesuit Constitutions, and in every official document.

As regards the methods employed in dismissal of members, we find that "dimissorial papers" are to be handed to the subject in the presence of two witnesses, or if that be not possible they are to be sent by registered mail so that there be legal proof that he received them. Furthermore, if the dismissed subject has been accused of wrong-doing while in the Order, proofs thereof are to be 'preserved in the Jesuit archives until his death. In the case of a suitable member who is desirous of leaving the Society, he must write out his reasons for applying for dismissal, and add that he has no other reasons than those alleged, and sign this 'pa'per, which forthwith is considered by Superiors. If the General refuses his request, perpetual silence may be imposed upon him by precept, so that if he opens the question again he will sin mortally. "Let him be persuaded that unless he obey the Superior he will not be secure in his conscience." He incurs excommunication if he consults outsiders and tries .to get them to obtain his dismissal for him. He is also punished in accordance with the Provincial's judgment, and subsequent escape from the Society becomes doubly difficult for him. However, the hardest case of all is that of young Jesuits who for moral reasons, of an intimate kind, desire to leave the Orderj for instance, if they find celibacy to be impossible for them. Even in such a case they have to reveal their moral weakness, outside confession, to the General, Provincial, and their Superior so that the case may be fully discussed. "If they refuse to reveal their hidden reasons to the aforesaid Fathers, let them be deprived of all hope of obtaining dismissal" 1S Jesuits who commit crimes in order to procure dismissal incur the penalties of apostates. Their dismissal is invalid and the Society may take legal measures against them in the public courts (in foro exfcerno), as against true apostates. One need not wonder, therefore, seeing the difficulties that stand in the way of quitting the Society, that many Jesuits remain in it, rather than face

18 VIII Congr. Can. 22, 5.

the trouble of obtaining a dismissal. One cannot help, too, noticing the use made by the Society of the term "dismissal"; even in the case of those who leave the Society for the highest and best motives, "dismissal" is the term used.

The worldly wisdom of the Society betrays itself in an interesting way in the rules which regulate what is called the "Renunciation of Property." Jesuits about to take their final vows must completely relinquish all property which stands in their name. In theory, at least, they are free to dispose of their property as they think best, provided they devote it to a good purpose. Among the purposes that are considered good, is the provision for the comfort or support of their own relatives. They are not bound by law to leave their property to the Order. If, however, they choose to leave it to a relative they must be guided by the advice of one or two or three Jesuits, "commendable for their learning and piety." 14

In addition to the "advice" thus given, Superiors may "modestly lay o'pen before them the necessities of the Society, though in such a way as to leave them free" 15 This clause, fair and even edifying in appearance, in practice amounts at times to moral compulsion. The subject knows, or is told, that if he leaves his money to the Order he will be regarded as a "benefactor," and much consideration will be shown to him as such. Furthermore, he knows that if he exercises his freedom and bestows his property in some other direction, it will be looked upon as a sign of disloyalty and ingratitude. He will suffer in indirect ways for his "independence." Being still a young Jesuit, and much in fear of being thought ill of by Superiors, it is all but impossible for him to refuse when his Superior "modestly lays open the necessities of the Society." One Jesuit, a friend of mine, who wished to leave his property to a sister, who was not well provided for, was extremely incensed at the pressure brought to bear upon him by his Superiors to leave the' money to the Order. In the end, although a rather strong-minded man, he had to submit to a compromise.

In the "Rules for Missioners," worldly wisdom is recommended

under the title "human means." One rule reads, "Human means

are not only not to be despised but even when necessary prudehitly

and religiously employed." This rule reminds one of the aphorism

M Epit. 489. 15 Ibid., 487.

of Cardinal Allen. "Apostolic men should not only despise moneys they should also have it." This the Society evidently believed for when Jesuit missionaries settled in a city they were to make out a list of "the good men who are distinguished for piety and famous for their achievements." These rich and powerful Catholics were to be assiduously cultivated. The missionaries, however, were to be "moderate in seeking alms lest excessive alms-seeking should drive away the faithful from their ministrations and as a result spiritual fruit and temporal fruit might fail." 16 In Jesuit Colleges, on Academy days, the prizes awarded were to be paid for by some rich benefactor, and care was to be taken to make "honorifica mentio" of the benefactor!

In the "Common Rules" there are some quaint examples of prudence and practical wisdom. Jesuits must not sleep without a shirt, or uncovered. On arising they must cover their beds, and they may only leave their rooms when decently clothed. When hearing confessions Jesuits must not exchange glances (mutuum aspectum) with penitents, but should hold their hands before their faces. Were they to keep this rule strictly they would sometimes be unable to tell whether it was a boy or a woman they were confessing. Jesuits are forbidden to tell their penitents what cut or colour of clothes they should wear. They are not to show resentment if some fair penitent should quit their confessionals for some more fashionable confessor. They were originally forbidden to allow their penitents, especially if they were married, to communicate more than once a week. For in the eyes of the Order there was apparently something in marriage that made married folk less worthy of communion than others, albeit marriage was ordained by God. At school or college plays, care was to be taken that no female-like person (persona ulla muliebris), nor any female attire (habitus), should appear upon the stage. No risks were ever to be taken in matters pertaining to sex. And, though a trifling detail, it is perhaps worth recording that to this day in Jesuit Houses on the Continent, Jesuits when taking baths/ even "shower baths," are supposed to clothe themselves bef one so doing in calico knickers.

The idea of giving edification was apparently an obsession of Saint Ignatius, and from him this obsession was transmitted to the

is Monita Generalia, 8.

mind of the Order. In the "Rules of Modesty," as we shall see, the phrase "mindful of edification" occurs more than once, and in practically every group of rules it is repeated. It seems as though the Society visualised the whole world as looking to it for edification. The pose of "edifying all in the Lord," however, forced the Society into much hypocrisy.

In the Constitutions, to take one example, the little Jesuit pious periodicals, The Messenger of the Sacred Hearty The Madonna, and so forth, are recommended "as means by which mutual edification may be fostered and zeal in solid virtue and devotion to the Sacred Heart and the Mother of God daily increased." 17 As we shall see later, these booklets are one of the biggest sources of revenue that the Society has. The profits are in some Provinces gigantic. And yet the Society puts up the pretence that its motive for publishing them is "mutual edification."

In the matter of poverty, too, the Society adopts the same pose. Every one knows that Jesuits will not give their services unless well recompensed for them. Nevertheless, even their recent revised edition of the Constitutions affirms: "In order that we may vindicate the perfect and absolute gratuity of our services . . . let every afflearance of whatsoever kind of accenting stipends be removed, by which our ministrations may seem to be recompensed" 18 Even twenty years of intimate knowledge of the varied pretence attitudes of the Society of Jesus has not dulled my sense of astonishment at the superb audacity of this hypocritical pose!

In the mentality of the Society there is also profound preoccupation as regards its reputation and good name. This is clearly evidenced among other places in the rules for the Censors of Jesuit publications. Apart from other concerns, Censors must look to it that they do not authorise the publication of anything which might "tend to lessen the refutation of the Society for religion and circumspection" 1? No book is to be published unless "it fulfils what Is expected of the writings of Jesuits" Under no circumstances

17 Epit. 676. . v

18 Ut gratuitatem ministeriorum nostrorum absolutam perfectamque vin-dicemus . . . omnis prorsus species stipendii removeatur quo ministeria nostra compensari videantur. Epit., 525.

10 Epit. 684.

may any risk be taken in regard to the publication of books which might possibly be harmful to the Society.

One must make a certain allowance for the efforts of the Order to make the best appearance it could before the world. It had been called by the French Clergy, in their assembly in 1761, "an entire and blameless Order," and by Pope Clement XIII in 1765 an Institute "breathing in the very highest degree piety and holiness," and it had to endeavour to live up, in appearance if not in reality, to these high encomiums. It never expressed any embarrassment at being the recipient of such compliments. Individual Jesuits no doubt have often been embarrassed at being regarded as Saints. Not so the Society as a whole! It swallowed all the flattery that was accorded to it, and even improved on the compliments paid it, by .describing itself, in the words of its General Roothan, as "a splendid abiding place of science, andi piety and virtue; an august temple extending over the earth, consecrated to the glory of God and the salvation of souls."

So far, we have discussed as component factors of the Mind of the Order, anxiety to secure perfect uniformity in all things, and a certain "long-headedness" in ways of achieving its aims. We have now to touch upon something equally characteristic, but somewhat less excusable: the official arrogance, the attitude of superiority and quasi-infallibility in the Order.

On the very first page of the Revised Institute 20 one is brought face to face with this peculiar mentality of the Society, whose founder used to speak of it as "Our wee little Company of Jesus" (Nostra minima Socletas Jesu). The section may appear fairly innocuous to a casual reader, but in the light of history it is very far from being so.

"The name 'Society of Jesus' was given it by our holy father Saint Ignatius himself, and was explicitly sanctioned by the Apostolic See and declared to be retained for ever. The Society was first approved by Paul III in 1540, and soon after praised by the Council of Trent. It was frequently confirmed by Roman Pontiffs."

There is something proud and combative about this statement, and something vindictive against the memories of Sixtus V, who 20 Cf. first section of the Procemium.

abolished the name "Society of Jesus"; and against Clement XIV who showed perfectly clearly that the Society was not only not "approved and confirmed" by the Council of Trent, but that it was not even "praised" by it.

The Pope, Gregory XIV, who in 1591 issued the decree "Ec-clesice Catholicce" confirming the name of the Society, was Pope for only ten months. He was much under the influence of the Jesuits, and a victim of Acquaviva's intrigue. He it was who on facing the Cardinals after his election, cried: "God forgive you! What have you done?"

When the Order was about to celebrate its first centenary, in 1640, the Belgian Province published, with full official sanction, an illustrated volume of a thousand pages called The Mirror of the First Century of the Society of Jesus. 21 The Order has ever since bitterly regretted its folly in publishing this arrogant panegyric on its own achievements. If, as is most probable, it reflected truly the mind of the Order, it is impossible not to be amazed at the extent to which the Order regarded itself as heaven-born, heaven-protected, and heaven-befriending.

The "Imago" describes how the Society was foretold by the Prophets of old; how God Himself revealed its name to Ignatius; how Jesus Christ was its real founder. "It is evident that the Society of Jesus is distinguished as to time only from the Community of the Apostles. It is not a new Order, but only a renewal of the first religious Community who.se one only Founder was Jesus." The "Imago" describes Jesuits as Angels on earth; the teachers and reformers of the world; the Protectors of the Church. Even Jesuit novices are sages, and Jesuit lay-brothers are philosophers. Every kind of extravagant praise is showered on the Society, and on all its works. »

The illustrations were in keeping with the text. The Order was symbolised by the Sun shedding its rays over the world, "and nothing is hid from the heat thereof," was quoted (from Scripture), as apropos. Another illustration, bearing the title "The Society is attacked," showed a crowd of men wearing fools caps, aiming arrows at the Sun! Underneath was written, "no arrow hits the Sun." ? x Imago Primi Sceculi, S. 7.

Martin Luther is referred to as "that monster of the Universe, that fatal plague, who had cast out all religion from his mind, and had divested himself not only of the garb of religion, but also of all its external forms, even the fear of sin." Ignatius faces him in the Arena and overcomes him.

The Order reaped a bitter harvest as a result of its boastfulness and pride. It made frantic efforts to buy up all copies of the "Imago" It tried to explain away the contents of the volume as being the effusions of young Jesuits, but all to no purpose. It continued to be plagued by references to the "Imago" for over a century.

One book, in particular, caused the Order much humiliation. It was written by Abbe de la Berthier, a Jansenist priest, and was entitled A Parallel of the Doctrine of the Pagans with the Doctrine of the Jesuits. It was burned by the public executioner in Paris, and at the instance of the Jesuits its author was thrown into the Bastille. The book was however reprinted in Dublin, in 1726, and while in the Bastille the author was visited by the Cardinal de Rohan who was greatly impressed by his learning and high character.

The "Parallel," dealt mainly with the laxity and lowmindedness of Jesuit moral teaching, as compared with the teachings of the Pagan moralists. Abbe Berthier addresses himself thus to the Jesuits, making abundant use of the Jesuit "Imago"

"Since you have styled yourselves 'a Society not of men but of Angels and the Spirits of Eagles, the Lights of Mankind, the Preceptors of all the world, the Reformers of Manners, who have banished vice and made virtue to flourish' . . . 'Good God/ you will say, 'shall such men be compared with philosophers, orators, poets? What! Shall we, who are a Company of Phoenixes, men eminent both for learning and wisdom, new Sampsons: shall we, who are the Guardian Angels and Protectors of the Church: we Generous Lions who came into the world armed with head-pieces, whose youngest novices are worth men of a- hundred years old, and whose brothers are more than philosophers. Shall we, in short who are the Lace of Gold, Blue, Silk, Purple and Scarlet, which the Scripture calls the Breastplate of Judgment, and who are worn upon the breast of the High-priest of the Jews; shall we be paralleled with the profane vulgar? '

''Don't exclaim so loud, My Fathers, moderate your complaints! You see already that I don't conceal your titles; I neither alter nor diminish them. I shall punctually exhibit the rest of them in due time and place, and will take care to omit none, for the most zealous of all your Panegyrists, let him be who he will, cannot be more impatient than I am to set you forth in your true colours and magnitude! 'Tis true I cannot help confessing to you that notwithstanding the high opinion you entertain of yourselves I tremble for you not a little. I fear very much that when the public has read your doctrine they will think your whole Society falls somewhat short of what they are in your esteem, viz., C A Company of Angels,' 'Foretold by Isaiah,' in these words, 'Go forth, swift Messengers.' " Thus, the Order was given a good opportunity of reflecting on Abbe Berthier's thesis from Cicero, "it Is an ugly thing for a man to talk much about himself"

We cannot of course deny that Berthier, being a Jansenist, and in consequence exceedingly hostile to the Order, was far from being an impartial judge as to the supposed arrogance in the mentality of the Order. But we can adduce as an authority one who was historiographer of the Society for a long period before the Suppression, Fr. Cordara, S.J., and who has ever been held in the highest esteem in the Order. What he wrote about the mind of the Order at the end of the eighteenth century corresponds precisely with my own experience of the Order. Apparently, the Mind of the Order had not changed in the least.

"Our Novice-masters," wrote Fr. Cordara in his Memoirs, "filled us with this spirit (pride), when they impressed on our tender minds so great an esteem of the Society. They represented ( admission to the Society as an incomparable gift, a benefit of God than which there could be no greater. They told anecdotes of those who preferred the habit of the Society to the Tiara or Purple. It is vain that they afterwards combated pride after having sown such seeds of it. With this same spirit the youths are inspired during their studies, as no authors are praised except Jesuits; no books prescribed but such as are written by Jesuits; no examples of virtue quoted but such as are represented by Jesuits; so that these poor youths are easily convinced that the Society of Jesus excels all other Orders in learning and holiness, and some weak-minded persons even believe that

everything praiseworthy done in the world is done under the auspices of our Society . . . and all the external circumstances favoured this pride and arrogance—the magnificence of the buildings, the splendour of the churches, etc."

The superiority complex of the Society will apparently never be exorcised out of it! It is an incurable malady in "Our wee little Society of Jesus" Jesuits will to the end go on thinking of the Order as "a splendid abiding place of science, piety and virtue"; "entire and blameless"; "breathing in the very highest degree piety and holiness." The fact that the first of these compliments was paid it by one of its own Generals; the second by more or less heretical (Gallican) clergy; while the third was, in the words of a Pope, "extorted from Clement XIII" matters little. The Society's corporate "Ego" is glorified exceedingly, and will ever remain so!

• • • • • • •

There is a decidedly harsh ingredient in the Mind of the Order that deserves notice; an element that makes one take with reserve Fr. Pollen's profession, quoted above, that "the rule throughout is one of love inspired by wisdom."

The Order, very early in its history, provided itself with the privilege of physically coacting its members, if needs, be with the aid of the civil arm; of throwing them into prison, and inflicting various kinds of physical punishment upon them. It could even send soldiers into the sacred precincts of the curia and haul forth "escaping" Jesuits. Was it the disinterested wisdom of Christ and Christ-like love that inspired such forcible measures?

I think a fairly clear proof that the "wisdom" inspiring such things was not Christlike wisdom but self-interest is to be found in the Constitutions. 22 "There is no need to use any effort-to win back those who go away without 'permission if they had been con-sidered unsuitable for the Order"

The Order of course protests, with a certain truth, but also with a certain untruth, that it has no 1 prisons or torture chambers. Nevertheless there are, to this day, Jesuits imprisoned in lonely, out of the way residences where they pass their days in considerable misery, on account of their past misdeeds. Although the thumb-screw is not inflicted on such prisoners, they are submitted to hardships and

22 Inst. 2a. IV. 4.

humiliations, more acute and more lasting than mere physical pain. Two years before I left the Order I barely escaped being imprisoned or "confined to barracks" in a Jesuit house. My crime was to have read out prayers in the Irish language in a public place at the request of a few hundred relatives of political prisoners who were thought to be dying in jail. Because these political prisoners had espoused a cause that was not to the liking of the Society, or the Bishops, it was considered wrong to pray for them publicly, although they were at death's door.

My Superiors were of course very angry with me for my imprudence and so forth, and the rumour went abroad that I was to be imprisoned. This punishment was decided upon, but was not actually carried out. With this explanation as foreword, I shall give in full a letter, written to me on this occasion by a Jesuit Superior, a good fellow, and a wag, who was in sympathy with what I had done.

19 Dec. 1923 My Dear Doctor

I was looking forward to your visit (to this house) but alas! it cannot be. I wrote to the Vice-Provincial as you advised me to. Following is his reply. "I regret I cannot approve." Alas! alas! I have a fellow feeling for all interned and untried prisoners, but as Wolfe Tone said, " 'tis but in vain for soldiers to complain." . . . Some of the Community wanted to know would there be any use sending you food and clothing for Xmas, but I assured them that I thought you hadn't yet reached that stage, and that the authorities would provide all you wanted in that respect!

Yours sincerely in Christ, ( ,

I was not the only Jesuit to suffer penalties for showing sympathy with what Superiors considered the "wrong side," and I was inclined to suspect that my crime consisted, not so much in taking part in politics, which indeed I did not do, as in showing approval of the "innovating" ideas of the Irish Republicans.

A passage from the "Diary" of Cardinal Manning 23 will show that Jesuits, if on the "right side" in politics are not interfered

23 Cf. Life of Manning by Purcell, 1895, p. 364.

with by Superiors. "Broechi told me," wrote Manning, "that the Jesuits are able and excellent in their duties as Priests (here in Rome), but that their politics are most mischievous; that if a collision should come with the people the effect would be terrible; they stick to the aristocracy, e.g., to the Dorias, the Princess being a Frenchwoman; that no day passes but they are there. The people call them Oscuri, Oscurantisti."

The attitude of the Order towards external and public penances is not without interest. The medisevalist customs prevail unchanged. I doubt if thoughtful Jesuits still believe in the intrinsic value of the old floor-kissing exhibitionism, but it is still everywhere practised in the Society. Were one to glance through the window of a Jesuit Refectory at the beginning of dinner or supper on an ordinary Friday or on the vigil of a feast, one would see quite a number of Jesuits saying grace on their knees, with outstretched arms; 'kissing the floor; crawling around under the tables and kissing the toes of those already seated at table. Others they would hear calling out in a loud voice that they were guilty of some breach of order or of charity. In some countries, though not here in the States, on such occasions the lights are lowered and the Fathers taking from their pockets small whips made of knotted cords, bare their shoulders and whip themselves for a few minutes in public. It is considered an attitude of obstinacy and independence to abstain from such penances. It is considered edifying to do them, and the Superior loves, as he stands at the head of the Refectory, to see the majority of his community crawling on the floor before him. At times he himself, in spite of his majesty, also performs a public penance to show that he is still human.

The peculiar absolutist attitude of the Order enters into this matter of penances as into everything. Although there are no obligatory mortifications enjoined on all, 2 * yet each Jesuit is supposed to ask his Superior from time to time for permission to do such penances as he considers necessary for his spiritual progress. In the Rule there follow these words, "and whatever penances his Superiors may impose upon him for the same ends." The subject's judgment never counts for anything. He goes to the Superior and asks, thus, "Father, may I do such a penance? I have prayed over the matter,

24 Cf. Summary Const. 4.

and considered it carefully, and I believe it is what I need to help me spiritually." Then, as answer. "Yes, you may, but I consider that you require still more penance, so be good enough to add this further penance." The matter is then settled finally, for the Superior's judgment is the Will of God. It is this assumption of infallibility and inerrancy on the part of Superiors which is the g most marked characteristic of Jesuit government.

According to the Constitutions, 25 Superiors in a sense assume the right of judging whether or not a subject has committed a "mortal sin," as they may, in case of "grave scandal to the Community," "forbid a subject to receive communion before he goes to confession." It was on account of such assumptions that Fr. Tyrrell refers to the "mitigated quasi-infallibility of a miraculous special providence, as basis of inward obedience to Jesuit Superiors."

In spite, however, of the dogmatism and absolutism inherent in the Jesuit mentality, there is a contrary element of hesitancy and fear of extreme measures. As regards penances, for instance, it is laid down: "The chastisement of the body must not be indiscreet or immoderate." As regards poverty, which must be "loved as a mother," Jesuits are only ordered "to experience at times y some of Its efects, according to the measure of holy discretion" This clinging to the via media; this dread of great heat or great cold; of great virtue or great vice; of too great activity lest the spirit suffer and of too great inactivity lest the "body take harm"; of too much truth and too much falsehood; of too great love of learning and too great ignorance; this worshipping of mediocrity, practicality and "discretion in all things," is peculiar to the mind of the Order, and has resulted in its becoming, in the words of Fr. Tyrrell, "a vast ecclesiastical militia of mentally and morally mediocre men."

The Order is curiously out of touch with life, especially with that life called "modern thought." It follows its old way, self-admiring and self-satisfied, completely impervious to the criticisms that are directed with justice against it. Even in the region of education, on which it depends so largely for its claim <t;o public usefulness, it is blind to the obvious shortcomings of its system. To take an illustration from Fr. Hughes, 26 apropos of the training

26 Cf. Epit. 185.

26 Loyola, and the Educational System of the Jesuits, p. 267.

of teachers. Fr. Hughes referred to certain Bavarian State Laws which made it necessary for Jesuits to pass State Examinations before teaching, as "harassing restrictions," which were utterly uncalled for, as of course Jesuit scholarship and training was the most perfect in the world. Four years of special training, as required by the State, would mean waste of time for Jesuits. "Jesuits are certainly . . . not to be confounded with young persons whd are merely prospecting some limited field of pedagogic activity as the scope of their lives."

Probably nowhere in the modern world is there official authorisation for teachers who are without technical training. The Society knows this, and probably recognises the wisdom of this attitude, but the Society will never admit that its members are like the rest of men and that they require technical training in teaching as much as others.

We have here another manifestation of the Society's superiority complex.

Some few years ago I was talking to an Irish secular priest, a very cultured man, a noted preacher, and at the time a professor of theology in a large seminary. He told me that as a young priest, after his ordination, he felt a strong desire to enter the Jesuit Order. He had passed all his examinations brilliantly, and had hoped that he would be accepted by the Order as a Novice. He called at the Jesuit headquarters in Dublin, and had asked to see the Provincial. After some delay an elderly and severe-looking Jesuit entered the parlour where he was waiting, who told him that he had come down on behalf of the Provincial. "Now, what is your business?" asked the Jesuit. The young priest told his story, and how he desired to become a Jesuit. When he had finished the grave father stood up and courteously showed him the door, telling him that he considered it very presumptuous of him, a secular priest, to aspire to admission into the Society of Jesus.

Secular priests are not of course always refused admission. But it is seldom that they are cordially received. It is thought, in the Society, that it is impossible to undo the inferior training that they have already received, and to infuse into them the characteristic spirit of the Order. They are never looked upon as "one of Ours,"

and for the most part they remain "fish out of water," regretting that they ever sought admission.

As I shall constantly return, during this volume, to the subject of the "Mind of the Order," I do not propose as yet to conclude my analysis. Perhaps I cannot do better, by way of a termination for this chapter, than to relate a peculiar and amusing incident, that is said to have taken place in a Jesuit House of Studies in Ireland. It concerned an elderly Father, Father R., who represented a rather common type of Jesuit, the Jesuit who is proud of his blue blood. Father R. boasted much about the property he had once possessed and about the high social standing of his surviving relatives. Owing to his seniority he was sometimes left in charge of the house while the Superior was absent. On such occasions he displayed much fussiness and foolishness. Members of the community whom he thought to be of gentle birth could get any kind of permission from him. The others he disdainfully repulsed.

One evening, at supper time, a young Jesuit, a wag, was on duty to read. Father R. was presiding, as the Superior was away. The Refectory reading began as usual with the lives of deceased members of the Order; short panegyrics of a most eulogistic kind. Grace was said, and the Lector opened the book to read. He began, and the community gasped! He was reading the life of "the Venerable Father R." Father R. looked up with interest and curiosity; he did not know what else to do. Presently a look of satisfaction appeared on his face.

"The venerable Father R." announced the Lector, "was born of very noble 'parentage. There fell to his portion as inheritance great wealth and vast estates. In his youth he conceived a 'passion for a lady of exalted rank. But a rival crossed his 'path and he was disappointed in his romantic hopes. Thereupon, with admirable courage and wisdom y he blew out his brains and entered the Society of Jesus!"

CHAPTER V

JESUIT ESPIONAGE

THE secret service system of the Society of Jesus is not, as many people think, primarily directed towards prying into political and state affairs. Without doubt, Jesuits have from time to time been engaged in work of such kind in various countries, and to some extent they still continue to forward to Rome reports of a political character. But the chief occupation of Jesuit spies, "syndici," as they are called in the Constitutions, is to watch their fellow Jesuits, and to send "informationes" about them to the local Provincial, or to the General, at the Jesu in Rome.

Spying, under the name of "manifestation of faults" by official and unofficial spies, is explained in broad outline to the young recruits who enter the Jesuit Noviceship. It is put before them as a holy and salutary religious practice. The reasons justifying it are said to be threefold. Firstly, progress in humility; secondly, progress in spiritual perfection; and, thirdly, that the Superior may know them better/ Naturally, raw recruits, mostly merely boys, do not fully understand what is involved in the denunciatory system thus explained in a pious homily on Christian charity. Neither have they any conception what secret government means. They are asked if they are willing to have their faults manifested to Superiors and if they are willing in charity to manifest the faults of others, and they express their consent. They take it for granted that what they have been told is a "holy and salutary religious practice" is quite aboveboard and honourable. They readily agree to the system without understanding what it entails. If afterwards, as often happens, when they come to see its evils and dangers, they make any protest, they are reminded of their acceptance of the system when it was explained to them in the Noviceship.

Jesuit denunciation is alluded to, though in a rather equivocal

iC/. Ord. Gen. c. XV. u

way, in the "Common Rules." 2 "He who knows about the grievous temptation of another must give notice of it to the Superior, that he, in his fatherly care and providence, may supply a suitable > remedy." It requires, however, a fairly full knowledge of the Constitutions to grasp all that is included under the word "temptation," and to realise what dire penalties the Superior, in his "fatherly care" may decide upon as "suitable remedies"

The Society does not, of course, depend upon voluntary sources of information. It claims the right to call upon individual Jesuits, suspected of having useful information, to reveal all they know about a matter. Furthermore it has its own elaborate system of espionage, through which Headquarters is kept fully informed about every Jesuit in the Order.

The system is general and particular. There is first of all the general system of official reports from Superiors, Consultors, Procurators, and from special Visitators sent from Rome by the General. Every Provincial must send each month to Rome a complete report upon the Province under his charge. Local Superiors must report to Rome four times a year about all their subjects. Procurators proceed to Rome, periodically, carrying with them secret reports about members of their respective provinces. On various occasions "informatores," four in number, are secretly nominated, and ordered to send in secret reports about individual Jesuits. The General and his secretaries preserve these reports in archives, and for each Jesuit there is a pigeon hole at the Jesu, where all that is reported about him is recorded. Over and above • these official reports, an immense number of voluntary reports are sent to Rome from each province by pious meddlers who spend a great part of their time writing, as they are privileged to do, denunciatory letters about fellow Jesuits, and about particular occurrences. These letters are marked "soli" They go directly into the hands of the General, who acknowledges them personally in due time.

We come now to the particular spy system of the Order, the system of "syndici."

If one looks up the references given in the index of the Jesuit Constitutions, under the word "syndicus," one will find much of

2 No. 20.

interest. In every house and college, and among every class of the Order, syndici are appointed to watch and send in secret reports to Superiors.

Thus, we read: 8 "Let a syndicus be appointed in the house whose duty it will be to be on watch concerning external good order and behaviour in all things; noting anything that is unbecoming; referring the same to the Superior, or admonishing him who errs, if such a power be given him, in order that he may perform his office the more usefully in the Lord." The syndicus, appointed by the Rector to watch the Scholastics, must report on such among them as waste time. In colleges, one head syndicus is appointed whose business it is to keep the Rector, Provincial, and General informed about persons and things. He must be a man of great fidelity and judgment. In addition, the Rector is to have his particular spies in order that whatever may happen in any class, which may need attention, may be reported to him directly, and in .order that he may be kept informed about all the teachers, including even the lay-masters. The Rector himself is also watched. Once a year the head-syndicus must write to the General about him, and twice a year to the Provincial.

Another kind of syndicus watches the Rector. He is the "socius collaterals" a kind of chaperon spy, of the Rector. 4 "To every Superior a socius collaterals may be assigned to serve as a support. He is not compelled to obey the Superior; but for the sake of others he is to show him outward respect. It is his business to report to the Provincial or General concerning the actions of the Superior to whom he is assigned."

Under the old "Ratio," in Jesuit Colleges, masters secretly appointed spies among the boys who sent in reports on the conduct of their schoolfellows. They were called "observatores" Other boy-spies, called "decuriones" were appointed who had among other duties, "to note down the number of times boys answered incorrectly or neglected their work." "Each teacher," said the Ratio, "must have his own open and secret censors, and a chief censor, through whom he may make enquiries as to the moral character of the others"

Perhaps the most invidious type of spying, instituted by the Jesuit

8 Const. Ilia. c. I. 16. 4 Cf. Inst. II. 40.

Constitutions, is that described in the "Instructions for Confessors," issued by the Seventh General Congregation of the Order. The fifth section reads: "Let syndici be anointed . . . who shall watcfy and report to the Superior about long confessions (prolixis confes-sionibus), and also about 'protracted conversations in the Church, outside confessions" There was therefore no place sacred, not even the church, against the activities of Jesuit spies. Nor was confession, which good taste as well as honourable principles, shelters from observation, immune from the watchful eyes of the official syndici of the Order.

During prayer time in Jesuit houses, that is, three times a day, official spies called "Visitors" go from room to room, opening the doors without knocking in order to see if the Fathers are at their prayers. They have to keep records of the number of times each Father is absent at prayer time, or late for prayers. The "Visitors" report to the Superior at stated intervals.

There is another method by which Superiors secure much secret information, which they use in the government of the Society. It is the "Manifestation of Conscience," about which I shall have much to say later. This manifestation is prescribed by rule. Theoretically it is a perfectly voluntary form of self-denunciation. But in practice it is something very different. Only those who have lived in religion can fully realise how even "Manifestation of Conscience" appertains to the Jesuit secret service system.

Since the days of Ignatius, the Order has insisted on the immense importance of its "denunciatory" system. An official letter of the Bohemian Provincial, Fr. Bieczynski, at present in the Vienna Court Library, 5 illustrates the viewpoint of the Order:

"How great a value we set on denunciation as the true eye of the Society must be known to everybody. Nor do those err who suppose that the greater part of the annoyances to which the Society is subject spring from neglect and disregard of denunciation. It is therefore particularly enjoined on all, as loving sohs of the Society, to pay due regard to a matter of such importance, and putting aside all considerations, in accordance with the spirit of our Institute, truly and faithfully to report to the Superior everything which they judge in the Lord should be reported. They may rest assured

c Quoted by Count von Hoensbroech.

that they are performing an office both grateful and advantageous to the welfare of the Society, if they zealously strive after that which the safety of our Order requires of all in this respect." 6

At times of internal trouble in the Order, when, as during the "Spanish Rebellion," various factions were working against one another, denunciation leads to untold abuse. Writing of this period of Jesuit History, Ranke 7 had to refer to the "system of the most abominable espionage and tale-bearing," and to the "disorders attendant on secret accusations." "It was made," he adds, "the instrument of concealed ambition and of hatred wearing the mask of friendship." He quotes from the brilliant Jesuit theologian, Fr. Mariana, himself one of the "conspirators": "Were any one to read over the records sent in to Rome," wrote Mariana, "he would perhaps not find a single upright man, at least among us who are at a distance. . . . Universal distrust prevails." There was none that would have uttered his thoughts without reserve even to his own brother.

The Venerable Bishop Palafox, in one of his famous letters to Innocent X, refers not only to Jesuit secrecy, but to the system of "pernicious denunciation" in the Order:

"What other Order has Constitutions which are not allowed to be seen, privileges which it conceals, and secret rules and everything relating to the government of the Order hidden behind a curtain? The rules of every other Order may be seen by all the world. . . . But among the Jesuits there are even some of the Professed who do not know the statutes, privileges, and even the rules of the Society, although they are pledged to observe them. Therefore they are not governed by their Superiors according to the rules of the Church, but according to certain concealed statutes known by the Superior alone, and- according to certain secret and, 'Pernicious denunciations, which leads to a large number being driven from the bosom of the Society" 8

Seeing that there is so much reporting and spying in the Order, what, it may be asked, becomes of the confidences that Jesuits make to one another? Above all, what attitude does the Society

6 Cod. 13620, p. 10.

7 Hist. of Papacy, II, p. 82.

8 June 8, 1649. Quoted by Hoensbroech, II, p. 7.

take with regard to secrets of conscience revealed, outside confession, by one Jesuit to another, in order to secure advice from tne latter? Does the Society pry into such professional secrets, and insist on being told what was confidentially revealed?

The answer to this question is to be found in the thirty-second decree of Sixth General Congregation. It is an equivocal answer:

"If one whose advice has been sought for is in doubt for some special and grave reasons, whether or not he should denounce to the Superior something which he heard in secrecy (namely, told to him with a view to obtain advice), he should carefully study the Doctors (of theology) in order that he may act, as is fitting in so grave a matter, prudently and cautiously."

Who doubts but that he will find among the Doctors some who through casuistic reasoning will allow him to tell the Superior all he has learned in confidence?

How pitiful therefore is the situation of a Jesuit who is in trouble and who needs advice? If he consults a brother Jesuit, all that he says, even in confidence, may be repeated to the Superior. And he has no one else except a brother Jesuit to consult, for his rule absolutely forbids him to seek advice from any one outside the Order!

The Order presumes to restrict the natural right of a Jesuit subject to his good name, although such a right is thought by ordinary folk to be inalienable, and more fundamental than any claim the Society could set up. The. Society of Jesus teaches that in accepting the principle of denunciation, Jesuit subjects "thereby renounce their right to their 'personal good name and- refutation In so jar as such a right stands in the way of denunciation." * We shall see presently to what extremes the Society pushes the theory thus adopted.

There are three crimes in particular that the Society insists must be at once denounced: sins of the flesh; the sowing of discord; and conspiring against the Constitutions. In general, any Jesuit who knows that a fellow Jesuit has committed any crime, threatening a third party or the common good, is bound to denounce him immediately. The Superior is supposed to guard in secrecy the name

9 "Eo ipso Nostros cedere cuique juri famse quod huic manifestation! obstare possit," 32nd deer. 6th Gen. Cong.

of his informant, but if he prudently judges that he cannot deal with the situation unless he act as a judge, he can compel his informant to take oath and sign an official judicial denunciation.

The twentieth Common rule, it will be remembered, gives no hint about anything of this kind. It speaks only of "fatherly care," and paternal denunciation. And certainly in my Noviceship I never heard a word about sworn denunciations made under compulsion. But as one digs deeper into the Constitutions one finds that "fatherly care" assumes very sinister aspects. One sees more and more clearly how much the Order depends on what Fr. Bieczynski called "the eye of the Society," and what Bishop Palafox referred to when he spoke of the Society being governed "by concealed statutes known to the Superior alone and according to certain secret and pernicious denunciations."

It must be remembered that the government of the Order is monarchical and absolute. The General rules like the Czar of old. All executive authority is derived from him and his position is practically impregnable. He can with a word make or mar the fortunes of any Jesuit in the Order, and it is the tradition in the Society for' the General to rule autocratically. It is true that he is supposed to have in view "the spiritual progress of his subjects and the common good of the Order" ("profectus spiritualis subditorum et bonum commune religionis"), but it is his own personal judgment, not the vote of a chapter, that is his guide. Among the privileges that he enjoys is that of dismissing subjects, unheard, and without judicial trial. The Revised Constitutions state that "it is not necessary to observe a judicial form in dismissing subjects, which enactment the Holy See has confirmed, subsequently to the New Code of Canon Law." The last clause refers to one of the many exemptions that the Society secured from the general law of the Church, governing Religious Orders j s a law which insisted on judicial forms being observed in the dismissal of religious from their Orders.

The existence of such a power in the Jesuit General is all the more galling, in view of the fact that he governs through secret information. A Jesuit is liable to be denounced falsely by a brother Jesuit, and as a consequence dismissed, without having an opportunity to prove his innocence. No more dire form of abso-

lutism existed in any Bourbon court. Furthermore, unless, as af parently it does, the Society assumes that it has the divinej preroga tive of inerrancy, nothing can justify it in using such a privileg as that of dismissal without trial.

The procedure of secret denunciation, with its possible effect! are laid down in the Ordinations of Generals, which belong to th Constitutions. From the second chapter onwards, in the Ordination dealing with denunciation of crime (manifestatio delicti), th Order has apparently in view the sudden secret dismissal of mem bers, without judicial trial.

First, the Superior is warned to keep secret the name of the in formant from others, unless he should consent to have his nam quoted. Sometimes, however, he will be obliged, as we have seen to consent to the use of his name. Secondly, care is to be taken, a far as circumstances permit, to avoid injuring the reputation of th' accused. However, in the case of great good, his crime may h made known to others, for the Superior may consider it right t< warn the accused, and to reprehend him, in the presence of tw( others, as witnesses. He may also deem it wise to seek advice fron others about what steps should be taken. Again, the reputation oJ the accused must not stand in the way of other Superiors' beinj informed about the matter. The informant is obliged to conseni to such usage of the information he imparts.

Again, the Superior may, for the improvement of the accused i give him secret warnings and reprehensions; terrify him witi threats (terrere minis); set spies to watch him; change him from place to place; remove him from office; provided always in sc doing he does not violate the secret. This he must avoid doing by putting forward some plausible reasons as a pretext for the treatment he is meting out to the accused.

The Superior may refer in public sermons or reprehensions, in a general way, to crimes of the nature committed, supposedly by the accused, provided he ask the informant's permission and safeguard his name.

Finally, the Superior relying on such secret information may proceed to the dismissal of the accused from the Order, "not, however, in such a way that the crime which has been secretly reported to him may be made known to others in kind or species; but'as

"DISMISSAL" FORM OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

lutism existed in any Bourbon court. Furthermore, unless, as apparently it does, the Society assumes that it has the divine prerogative of inerrancy, nothing can justify it in using such a privilege as that of dismissal without trial.

The procedure of secret denunciation, with its possible effects, are laid down in the Ordinations of Generals, which belong to the Constitutions. From the second chapter onwards, in the Ordinations dealing with denunciation of crime (manifestatio delicti), the Order has apparently in view the sudden secret dismissal of members, without judicial trial.

First, the Superior is warned to keep secret the name of the informant from others, unless he should consent to have his name quoted. Sometimes, however, he will be obliged, as we have seen, to consent to the use of his name. Secondly, care is to be taken, as far as circumstances permit, to avoid injuring the reputation of the accused. However, in the case of great good, his crime may be made known to others, for the Superior may consider it right to warn the accused, and to reprehend him, in the presence of two others, as witnesses. He may also deem it wise to seek advice from others about what steps should be taken. Again, the reputation of the accused must not stand in the way of other Superiors' being informed about the matter. The informant is obliged to consent to such usage of the information he imparts.

Again, the Superior may, for the improvement of the accused, give him secret warnings and reprehensions; terrify him with threats (terrere minis); set spies to watch him; change him from place to place; remove him from office; provided always in so doing he does not violate the secret. This he must avoid doing by putting forward some plausible reasons as a pretext for the treatment he is meting out to the accused.

The Superior may refer in public sermons or reprehensions, in a general way, to crimes of the nature committed, supposedly by the accused, provided he ask the informant's permission and safeguard his name.

Finally, the Superior relying on such secret information may proceed to the dismissal of the accused from the Order, "not, however, in such a way that the crime which has been secretly reported to him may be made known to others in kind or species; but as

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"DISMISSAL" FORM OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

though the dismissal were for other faults, coming to his knowledge from other sources; faults of a kind calculated to appear in the judgment of others a sufficient reason for the dismissal."

There is, surely, guile enough, equivocation enough, and deception and tyranny enough in all this to justify one in thinking that the government of the Jesuit Order resembles very little Christ's government of His disciples. Yet all this is called "paternal denunciation" ! What is particularly interesting is the delicate atten-' tion and courtesy shown to the informant. His permission is asked for this, that, and the other thing. He is flattered and consulted. He is protected against any inconvenience lest he should be unwilling to play the informant again. Not infrequently he is favoured with a special letter of thanks from the General!

Informers are held in the highest esteem in the Order, that is, if they are efficient and accurate informers. They are thought to be loyal to the Order, true children of Saint Ignatius, and zealous about the Order's highest good. They are in due time promoted, and they enjoy the confidence of Superiors. If, on the other hand, some consider it petty, mean, degrading, and the source of far more harm'than good, to spy upon their neighbours, they are looked upon as obstinate, independent, indifferent to ;the interests of the Order, and as being bereft of the true spirit of the Society.

It is now perhaps time to trace from its beginnings the Jesuit training in Espionage, bearing always in mind that the Society repudiates the term "spying," and clings to the word "manifestation," and to the idea that manifestation is a work of love and charity, and a useful means in the attainment of spiritual perfection.

From the first novices receive instruction in a peculiar form of examination of conscience, called the "Particular Examen." It consists in a close, and continuous self-scrutiny with respect to some particular fault to be corrected or virtue sto be acquired. Results have to be marked down twice daily in a little book. This "Particular Examen" is the spiritual background for spying; it is in itself a pious spying on the "old Adam" within one.

Next novices are given "admonitors" and taught how to "admonish" others. An "admonitor" has the duty of closely watching his victim and of pointing out to him all his faults, and of reporting the same to the Superior (the Master of Novices). The next step

in the training consists in daily reports that each novice has to make to a head-novice on what he has observed against good order or against the Noviceship customs. Names of delinquent novices are asked for and given. There are also two public lessons in spying or manifesting given each week. One is called the "Socius Conference"; the other is called the "Quarter of Charity" (or "Lapidatio," a Stoning). At the former convention, the Master of Novices' Assistant or "Socius," presides. He calls upon one novice after another to reveal any infringements of external rules that he has observed, without, however, mentioning names. The latter convention is much more serious, and is held under the direction of the Master himself. At it, some novice is called upon to kneel in the centre of the hall, and then, each novice in turn reports publicly every fault that he has observed in the unfortunate novice who is being "stoned." The ordeal is unquestionably very terrible. "Please, Father, I noticed that Br. X. eats ravenously at table. He seems to forget to close doors after him when leaving rooms. He bites his nails. He makes sarcastic remarks about the holy customs and pious things. (Here the other novices shudder.) Also, I noticed that he seeks the company of some novices more than of others. He does not seem to relish pious conversation. I have also noticed that he is inclined to glance about when in the chapel, and he makes references to subjects of conversation forbidden by the customs. He seems impatient if novices do not listen to what he has to say in recreation. That is all I noticed, Father." Such tales are told with endless variety by the novices, one after another, and when all are finished, the Master sometimes winds up with a severe reprehension or threat.

It may be said that since such spying is done in the open, and since it affords a certain amount of useful criticism to the novice who is being stoned, that it is justifiable! But such a defence of the "Quarter of Charity" does not meet the chief objection to it. Apart from the fact that it is too humiliating and degrading an ordeal for any boy to have such personal criticisms offered in public, such stone-throwing is a lesson in the crudest and vulgarest form of spying, and it dulls the novices' sense of the rights of others to their good names. It fosters the habit of watching others and reporting. It awakens a kind of emulation or rivalry in spying. For, at least,

in my time it was quite clear that some novices sought to shine before the Master by-tfie smartness and variety of their criticisms of other novices.

Subsequently, in the Order, there are no "Quarters of Charity," but the habits learned in the Noviceship have the result premeditated by the Order, and many Jesuits, as a matter of course, run to their Superiors to tell them all they have "noticed" about their brother Jesuits. They feel they have the right to do so, and they feel no shame at all in so doing. They no longer care about the "high motives" that stimulate the poor, hysterical novices, in their well-meant tale-telling. They frequently spy on fellow Jesuits in order to "down them," or in order to prevent them from getting some office that they covet for themselves or their special friends.

Novices in their pious fervour not only agree to be "manifested" to Superiors by others, but they also sign papers giving the Order power to open and read all letters coming to them, and all letters that they write. In signing such papers they sign away far more than they realise, and most people will agree that it is unfair and even unjust to ask novices in the "exalted" mental state in which they are during their days of exotic fervour, to abandon all their sacred rights to privacy of correspondence. At least the signing of such papers should be deferred until young Jesuits realise what it entails.

Needless to say, the fact that Superiors open and read incoming letters from parents, brothers, sisters and friends, and letters outgoing to them, puts an end to all warm and loving confidences. Many a Jesuit novice blushes as he reads a letter from his mother, already opened and read. He is tortured by shame when he thinks that a stranger should have perused and perhaps laughed at the little family intimacies contained in his mother's letter. He resolves at the first opportunity to beg his mother never to write to him in an intimate way again. And in his own letters to his home he is most careful to avoid alluding to the little family affairs that he is longing to discuss.

Apart from the grave question of the ethics of the opening of incoming letters, the whole practice of deliberate and direct interference with subjects' correspondence reveals to what extent the Order considers itself wholly owner and possessor of its subjects'

body and soul. No husband, bound to his wife by an indissoluble and sacramental bond, which in the eyes of the Christian Church makes of two one in the flesh, would presume to claim the right to interfere so intimately with her inner life, her natural rights and privileges, as does the Jesuit Order in the case of its subjects. The Society, as it were, stretches forth its restless hand, pushes it into the vitals of its subject, searches here and there, drags this part and that into the open, squeezes and pulls what it will, and stuffs up the gaping hole it makes with anything it finds ready to hand, or else leaves it open and bleeding.

We now come to the peculiarly Jesuit institution called "Manifestation of Conscience."

"Whoever wishes to follow in the Lord this Society, and to persevere in the same to the greater glory of God, must under the seal of confession, or secrecy, or in any way which pleases him and affords him greater consolation, lay open his conscience with great humility and charity, concealing nothing in which he shall have offended the Lord of all things. He must give a full account of his whole past life to his Superior, or at least of all events of greater moment . . . and each six months he must again give an account of conscience beginning from the last which he gave. He must not conceal any temptation from the Spiritual Father, or his Confessor, or the Superior; nay more, he must rejoice to lay his whole soul completely open before them. He must reveal not only his defects but also his penances, mortifications, devotions and all his virtues, desiring with a pious will to be directed by them lest he turn aside from virtue; and refusing to be guided by his own judgment unless in so far as it is in accord with the judgment of those whom he has over him in the place of Christ, Our Lord." 10

The subject therefore must, according to rule, reveal his whole soul, past and present, with all its weaknesses and virtues, to the Superior, or whomsoever the Superior appoints. This practice has always been insisted upon in the Order and is regarded as one of the unchangeable substantials of the Constitutions. Acquaviva expressed the mind of the Society when he called dislike for manifestation "a very pernicious disease" (morbus valde perniciosus). Other religious Orders copied the Jesuit rule of Manifestation, and

10 Summ. Constit. 40, 41.

Reverend Mothers of Convents, in particular, apparently revelled in having their subjects reveal all their sins and temptations to them. It made of the Reverend Mothers, "Father Confessors," and wonderful was the advice and spiritual direction that they gave! Finally so much abuse resulted in the course of time from Ignatian "Manifestation," that the Church had to interfere and forbid it. Even in the Society it had led to grave abuses. But the Society refused to submit to the Church's decree of abolishment, and secured a special dispensation from the Pope for its continuance. Hence we read in the Revised Constitutions (Epit., 1924): "Manifestation of Conscience must be made to the Superior. This prescription has been approved and confirmed by the Holy See, subsequently to the New Code" (of Canon Law, which forbade it).

When novices, and indeed young Jesuits make their "Manifestations" to the Superior, "under secrecy" (for the seal of confession is out of the question in such long talks that touch on all kinds of topics), they are far from realising that the Superior considers himself free to use the information he elicits for the purpose of government. He must, of course, keep secret the name of his subject; and guard his identity from becoming known, but he may make good use of what he learns. Let us suppose, for instance, that the Brother in charge of the cellar, manifests, under secrecy, that in the past, when in the world, he used to get drunk. He will probably find within a few days that he has been appointed to work in the garden and that some other Brother has been placed in charge of the cellar. Or if a novice manifests that he receives "great consolation" from the conversation and company of some other novice who is helping him at his work, he will find that his consoling companion is put to work somewhere else. Later on in the Order, in bigger things, the knowledge gained in s manifestation is freely used in government. We can therefore see, in the first place, how manifesting pertains to indirect and direct spying, and in the second place we can understand why the Society clings so tenaciously to its practice. Plain tlnd manly Jesuits detest "manifestation," and if forced to manifest, they do so in a perfectly perfunctory way. But they of course are looked upon as being sick from "the very pernicious disease" of Acquaviva.

On one occasion I had as Superior an ex-Provincial, to whom I

had to "manifest," and who had somehow got to know, probably through confession, that I had been witness of a very grave crime of a certain Jesuit, still in the Order. I had always kept this matter absolutely secret, and always will, but from the standpoint of the Rule it was one of the things that I was bound to manifest. I see now that had I obeyed the Rule I should have been forced forthwith to sign a sworn attestation and the Jesuit in question would have been dismissed. The ex-Provincial, who was an incurable meddler and equivocator, must have looked forward with pleasure to my "manifestation." He was of course handicapped as regards the knowledge that he possessed; being derived from confession he was restricted in his use of it; but he counted on being able to use it at least so far as to manoeuvre me into denouncing the guilty Jesuit.

First, he prompted me to talk of matters connected with the erring Jesuit. He led the conversation back, again and again, to the region of the occurrence. He twisted and wriggled, giving me openings again and again to make the denunciation! Short of flagrantly breaking the seal of confession that bound him, he did everything humanly possible to draw the much desired testimony from me on which he had counted! But, thank God, he failed, failed utterly, for never a word crossed my lips. -

Then he became angry and sullen. He seized some silly pretext for accusing me of obstinacy and for lack of "the spirit of the Society." He threatened me with dire consequences for being "self-willed"; he foretold an evil end for me; and finally dismissed me humiliated but victorious. Ever after he persecuted me as far as he could, and fixed upon me what in the mind of the Order is the very sinister stigma of being "independent."

Jesuits have often been accused of making too free a use of the knowledge that they gain in confession. Thus, M. de Canaye, the French Ambassador at Venice, under Henri IV of France, wrote to his King, June 6, 1606:

"Jesuit documents discovered at Bergamo and Padua prove that the Jesuits made use of Confession in order to gain information as to the capacity, disposition, and mode of life of the penitents, and the chief affairs of the towns in which they live; and that they have such an exact acquaintance with all these details that

they know the strength, means, and circumstances of every state and every family."

This accusation of M. de Canaye is of course rather vague, but that made by Marie Therese against her Jesuit Confessor, for revealing things told him in confession, was far from being vague. Apart, however, from incidents of such kind, the Jesuits laid themselves open to the charge of misusing confessional knowledge in various ways.

One notable incident is referred to in the Eighth General Congregation: "As it might be advantageous to appoint confessors as Superiors no change need be made in this respect; honourable men would not make a wrongful use of the secrets learnt in confession." Now, this declaration was the answer of the Order to the request of Pope Innocent X y that the exceedingly dangerous and objectionable 'practice of appointing as a Superior one who already as Confessor held all the secrets of the Community should be abolished. The Order refused to obey the Pope's wish, and naturally laid itself open to suspicion.

There is still further Jesuit documentation for the accusation that enemies of the Order formulate. Acquaviva, in one of his ordinances, states: ce ln annual reports what relates to confessions should be omitted." This is ambiguous, but not so the similar decree of a Provincial of the Upper German Province: "Facts which are known only through the Confessional are not to be quoted in annual reports." These proMbitions were issued, no doubt, because of the existence of abuses in the matter.

Most people would consider also, as an infringement of the secrecy which is supposed to surround confession, the setting of syndici to watch 'long confessions," to which Jesuit practice I have referred above.

The Jesuit attitude towards the confessions of its members has seemed to many to be instigated by a very questionable and un-Catholic spirit. Until recently, Jesuits could only confess to members of their own Order, and even then they could exercise no freedom of choice as regards confessors. They had to confess to the confessor appointed by the Sufieria>r } a man whom they perhaps despised and distrusted. Furthermore, if, when away from his own house, a Jesuit confessed his sins to the confessor of another house,

on his return he had to make this confession all over again. "Whoever confesses to another than his own confessor (appointed by the Superior), must afterwards as far as he can remember open his whole conscience to his own confessor, so that the latter being ignorant of nothing that appertains to it, may the better help him in the Lord." Such a rule, insisting on the retelling of sins already forgiven, is not paralleled by any law of the. Church.

Jesuits were by rule bound to confess at times appointed by the Superior. They were not even free to consult their own spiritual interests in this matter. And if they refused to confess they were to be starved into so doing. 11

"Besides the right manner of confessing, let the time of confessing be also decided upon, and if they do not confess within this time, let bodily food be denied them until they eat their spiritual food." Here assuredly the hand of the Society tugs at the spiritual vitals of its subjects!

The greatest hardship, however, of Jesuits, regarding confession, was felt when they committed what were called reserved sins. These reserved sins are certain grave sins (they may belong to any species) that the Superior decides to reserve to himself for absolution. He, in his omnipotence, could ^decide that it was necessary or useful for him to have a knowledge about the commission of these sins (quos ab eo cognosci necessarium videbitur aut valde conveniens). He justified himself in reserving such sins on the grounds that if he had knowledge of how often they were committed, and in what manner they were committed, he could the more easily apply a remedy and preserve those committed to his charge from all occasion of harm.

Needless to say, such legislation approached very near to the using of confessional knowledge f or ^governmental purposes. If the Superior found that certain Fathers of his community were paying visits to ladies of the demi-monde, he could of course send word to the city police to have the city cleaned up, and so forth. It was an intolerable burden on Jesuits to have to go to their Superior, who had complete control of their life and movements, to seek absolution. The horrors of such situations were so great, " Cf. Decl. q. Const. Ill, c. I.

and the resultant evils so immense, that finally the Church stepped in and abolished all such legislation in Religious Orders.

That the evils in the Society, from its code of laws regulating confessions of its subjects, were very great, is shown by a protest made by a Spanish Father, Hernando de Mendoza, in 1615, to the Seventh General Congregation. His protest of course fell on deaf ears, but it was none the less spirited.

"Because the Superiors reserve to themselves certain sins, some persons remain for years in a state of deadly sin and commit thousands of sacrileges, without daring to confess to the Superior, or their usual confessor, because the Superior does not give his consent to absolution, or when he gives it makes many difficulties, and asks so many questions that the secret of confession runs great risk of being broken. The 'practice of letting Superiors rule their subordinates by means of Confession (must be abolished}. . . . Also the obligation to make a general confession every six months; for if a sin has ever been fully confessed there is no obligation to confess it again. . . . The seal of confession must be respected." 12

• •••••»

The spirit of espionage which is inculcated in the Noviceship begins to manifest itself in young Jesuits when, a few years later, they find themselves teaching and prefecting in Jesuit colleges. It takes the form of excessive supervision over the boys. All day long the boys are closely watched; in the classroom, playground, refectory, dormitory, and even in the chapel. One of the rules of the Ratio, for the Prefect of Gymnasium, enacts that "during the whole schooltime he should be stationed in the corridor or in a room from which he can overlook the boys." ^ At Clongowes College, the Jesuit schobl where I was educated, the supervision was exceedingly severe, although much less severe than in Jesuit colleges on the continent of Europe. There were prefects who had the spy-mania; who used to piece together torn bits of paper to discover what boys had been writing "notes." Some of the prefects searched the boys' clothes while they were out on walks, reading whatever they found in the pockets. The letters that the younger boys wrote were read by their masters before being posted. On one occasion, a boy, a friend of mine, and one of the

12 Quoted by Hoensbroech, I, 365.

seniors in the house, was exceedingly insulted when a Jesuit prefect called his attention to the fact that he had delayed longer than was customary at a urinal.

The boys were of course aware of this spying and resented it very much. They took it for granted that every Jesuit was ipso facto a spy, unless they had proof to the contrary. Boys who were friendly with masters were looked upon with suspicion and disliked, on the grounds that they were likely to give away the other boys. Some of them were openly called "spies."

At Clongowes there were, however, some "decent men," among the masters, Jesuits who would not spy, whom we admired and trusted, and for this reason the irritation caused by spying did not banish kindly relations between boys and the community. But the system had undoubtedly an evil effect on the boys' training. Spying suggests distrust, and being distrusted awakens the worst latent tendencies of character.

In Jesuit colleges in Belgium, and elsewhere in Europe, the extremes to which espionage goes are appalling. Boys are under the closest scrutiny from the moment they get up in the morning until they are asleep at night. In the chapel, where they are told to worship God in spirit and truth, the watchful eyes of eight or ten Jesuits are upon them all the time. Belgian Jesuits have told me that if boys are left together, without supervision, even for a few moments, there is sure to be immorality. If such is the mind of Belgian Jesuits about boys, it would be impossible to have adequate sympathy for the tortuous humiliations they must undergo at the hands of their educators.

But can one blame the young Jesuit for his attitude of distrust towards others? Is he himself not spied upon and distrusted? He has to submit to a hundred rules that are patent professions of distrust. For instance, the eleventh Common Rule lays down: "No one may so close the door of his room that it cannot be opened from outside; nor may any- one keep a box or anything else locked without the permission of his Superior." He is under surveillance when he goes out; he is spied upon at prayers; his outgoing and incoming letters are read; and if he enters another scholastic's room, he must leave the door open all the time he is inside! These are but a few of the "I don't trust you" rules under which he lives. Can he

be blamed therefore for regarding distrust of others as the normal thing?

It is recorded in Camara's life of Ignatius Loyola that "he took the greatest pleasure in hearing all the details about the lives of his brethren, and used to have letters read, especially those from India, two or three times, and wanted to know what his brethren ate, how they slept, etc., and once he broke out, c Oh, I should like to know how many fleas bite my Fathers at night.' "

This interest of Ignatius in his brethren would have been admirable if it were as ingenuous as Camara would have one believe. But one who knows the reverse side of Ignatius' character would be inclined to suspect that he was pricked to interest in details by a certain anxiety to learn the foibles, grumblings, and indiscretions of his Fathers. Personally, I found in the Order, among the "grave fathers," the same kind of anxiety to know all about the doings of their brethren, but I soon began to notice that they were far less interested in things that were edifying than in things that were indiscreet, or smacking of scandal.

One would gain a very false impression of life in the Order if one did not take account of the very great misery of soul that the widely expanded spy system of the Order engenders. The sense of insecurity; the feeling of being watched; the heartrending despair at never being trusted even when doing one's best; the disgust at the respect and honour paid to petty, backboneless men who crawl into the favour of Superiors by telling tales on others; the shelving of honourable and independent men who abhor the meanness of spying; the gnawing thirst for life among honourable and wholesome-minded men who attend to their own business and allow others to go their way in peace; these and suchlike feelings are part of an average man's stream of consciousness during his life in the Society. 4

On many occasions I was amazed to find how swift and accurate was the information gleaned by Superiors through their syndici. There were times when I snatched at a tempting infringement of rule, and when I covered up all traces of my wickedness as carefully and as completely as I could, so completely indeed that I thought it impossible that Superiors could ever "find out," and yet again and again they did "find out," and I was hauled over the coals.

\

On one occasion, to give an example of a hundred similar incidents, I was living in a very large community, so large indeed that it would have been impossible, so I argued, for the Superior to remember a certain insignificant duty that I had to perform once a fortnight. The duty was to preach a little sermon at a certain Catholic Club in the city. This duty meant that I had to be absent from the community supper, and I was supposed to get an early supper instead.

This particular evening, being somewhat bored by an overdose of study of theology, I resolved to omit the early supper and to visit my mother on the way to the Club and have tea with her. I had no permission for so doing, but I counted on "not being caught."

All went well, and I was congratulating myself on having pulled off my agreeable escapade successfully, when a note reached me from the Superior, to the effect that he wanted to see me at once. He had hardly opened his mouth when I saw that he knew all. "Where were you last night?" "At the Catholic Club," I said, "giving a lecture!" "Did you take supper before you went?" "No!" "Did you take supper outside? Did you call on your mother? Don't you know it is against the rules to visit your mother without my leave?" And so on. The remainder of this pious Superior's remarks would need "so much censoring that it is best to omit it altogether.

One wonders that so astute and wise an organiser as Ignatius Loyola did not foresee that his system of espionage and secret denunciation would in the end do far more harm than good. It is true, no doubt, that through it the Society has been saved from a number of scandals, and has been more fortunate than other Orders in getting rid in time of members who were likely to cause trouble. But as an offset to such practical advantages there stands the spirit of distrust and suspicion. Secret denunciation sounded the death-knell of domestic peace and confidence.

Furthermore, one. cannot shut one's eyes to the fact that secret denunciation is open to intolerable abuses. It is true the Society has striven by legislation to lessen these abuses, but it is impossible to prevent them. They are inherent in the very nature of the matter. The spy-maniac will make and substantiate the most atrocious charges. "How do I know," asked a worthy old spy-maniac of a

fellow Jesuit of mine, "whether or not you have just come from a brothel? All I know is that you are late!" This same good Father used to hide behind rocks when Jesuits were at the seaside and watch through binoculars to discover, if he could, some obscenity. And yet he was from time to time a Superior, or at least in charge of communities, and his word would have been taken against that of a mere subject. At times of political tension and at times of social unrest, spying becomes doubly dangerous. "It has been reported to me that you . . ." falls from the Superior's lips more and more frequently.

There are many imprudent, stupid, and credulous Superiors who listen to every tale, and believe every story, especially if it is to the discredit of those whom they dislike. They receive readily the tales of "Externs" and believe them, perhaps rightly, against the word of members of their own Order. And it is well known in some places that clever and intriguing "pious females," can through their influence with Superiors exercise a kind of veto and control over appointments to various offices. Even Acquaviva, the "Saviour of the Society," has recourse more than once in the "Industrie" to the expression, "externs were seeking some one else by name" (externi alium petebant nominatim). 18 "Externs," as is well known in the Society, mean in practice "pious women.

5>

However little in keeping the espionage system of the Society of Jesus may be with the spirit of Christ, and however unhappy its consequences as far as the peace and contentment of mind of individual Jesuits may be, it is no doubt in full consonance with the calculated strategy which Ignatius Loyola thought fit to introduce into the fierce, relentless, and uncompromising warfare that he undertook to wage, by human as well as spiritual means, against the world, the flesh and above all the devil.

is Cf. c. 14, 7.

CHAPTER VI

JESUITS AND WOMEN

FATHER GENELLI, a Jesuit historian, tells us, that "as regards chastity it deserves to be emphasised that the Society is so immaculate in this respect that its opponents have never been able to prove any assertion against it." *

If one accepts this claim as serious, and considers the frailty of human nature, even of such human nature as consecrates itself to the service of God, one cannot but be interested in studying the rules and methods whereby the Society of Jesus has secured immunity from the most common of all human weaknesses. Whether this achievement, claimed by the Jesuits, is due to a successfully employed technique by which the sex-urge is completely suppressed and eliminated, or whether it is due to some marvellous system of sublimation whereby the sex-energy is drawn off into other channels, the result is equally remarkable. In either case the strategy adopted by the Jesuits in their warfare against sex is calculated to intrigue the modern mind. And even though the claim made by Father Genelli should prove to be insufficiently substantiated, the obvious confidence of the Society in its chastity, and in the power of legislation to secure the perfection of this virtue, is a matter of no small interest.

That Father Genelli was not alone in his high opinion of the" chastity of Jesuits is evidenced by Father Cordara, S.J., an enfant terrible at times, who writes in his Memoirs, 2 "Chastity was highly valued by the Jesuits. They basked in its splendour. They boasted of being distinguished by it from other monks. I have often heard them say that much "that was disgraceful was spread abroad about the other Orders; many bad examples were set by them; but that nothing of this kind happened among the Jesuits."

In the Summary of the Constitutions, mention of Chastity is

1 Das Lebcn des heiligen Ignatius von Loyola, Innsbruck, 1848, p. 230.

2 Denkwiirdigkeiten, Dollinger, Beitrage, 3, 74.

made for the first time in the twenty-eighth rule, a rule which places so high an ideal of chastity before Jesuits that it seems to involve a contradiction. The expression "angelical purity of mind and body" is used, albeit even the most orthodox of believers do not pretend that angels have bodies or indeed that this particular virtue has any meaning whatsoever for them. Be that as it may, the rule which reads as follows is clear as to its purpose: "What concerns the vow of chastity needs no interpretation since it is manifest how perfectly it is to be observed, namely, by striving to imitate angelical purity, in cleanliness both of body and mind." And as if to add emphasis to the ideal of physical continency, the order of words consecrated by unvarying scholastic usage, which places "mind" before "body" is reversed, and we find that "cleanliness of body" is put before "cleanliness of mind."

The vow of chastity referred to in this rule is taken on the termination of the Noviceship. The novices, sixteen years of age and upwards (unless in case of special dispensation by the Jesuit General when they may make their vows at an earlier age), bind themselves to perpetual celibacy and to the avoidance of all sins of the flesh. They render themselves for ever incapable of contracting what in the eyes of the Church would be a valid marriage. Furthermore, the effect of the vow is such that it adds the crime of sacrilege to any sin against chastity that a Jesuit commits, so as to make of what in an ordinary Catholic would be one mortal sin, two mortal sins in a Jesuit.

Having formulated the ideal of chastity in the twenty-eighth Rule of the Summary, the Society proceeds 3 to lay down defensive outworks of the virtue. These outworks consist of stern repression of all spontaneous outbursts and ebullitions of the emotions; self-effacement before others; and temperance as regards food. "All must diligently guard the gates of their senses (particularly their eyes, their ears, and their tongue), from all that is inordinate; and preserve themselves in true internal peace and humility, showing this in silence, when it is to be observed, and when speaking, in the circumspection and edification of their words, the maturity of their gait and whole carriage, without any sign of impatience or pride; in all things seeking and desiring to procure the better

3 In the 29th and soth rules.

part for others; and considering all in their hearts as siiperior to themselves; showing this exteriorly in the honour and reverence which each one's state deserves, with religious simplicity and moderation; and so bringing it about that having mutual consideration for one another, they may increase in devotion and praise the Lord God, whom each one shall recognise in the other as though the other were His image." The thirtieth rule continues:

"In the refection of the body care must be had that temperance, modesty, and decency both interior and exterior shall be observed in all things. Grace must be said before and after meals, which all shall attend to with due reverence and devotion, and while by eating the body is refreshed, let the soul also have her food."

In these two rules the general law of self-restraint, religious modesty, and recollection are inculcated. Constant vigilance lest the eyes wander, the tongue wag, the teeth plunge greedily into the tempting morsel, is in the mind of the Order the keystone of the edifice of chastity. Strong confirmation of this view will be forthcoming presently when we consider Ignatius' famous "Rules of Modesty." To inhibit and coact the senses in every way, is the essence of the Society's teaching to this day as regards the attainment of chastity. The Revised Constitutions of the Order has nothing new to add in this matter: "Let all be mindful of how much it conduces to the preservation of angelical purity to watch over the senses, as well as to observe carefully the Rules of Modesty, and to practise continual mortification of ourselves in all things, in the manner prescribed to us in the Constitutions." 4

While drawing up his "Rules of Modesty," Ignatius spent weeks in prayer and meditation. He counted on them for wonderful results. They were considered by him as his chef d'oeuvre. He was almost as proud of writing them as he was of founding the Company of Jesus. They reflect not only his character but his mentality and outlook on life. They epitomised his ideal of what a Jesuit should be. They embody a code of rigorous mental and physical repression; a code so severe and gruelling that to observe it fully would entail insanity for most men. Novices make heroic efforts to observe all these rules to the letter, but invariably they collapse under the strain. As Jesuits grow more mature they *Cf. Epitome of Revised Constitutions, publ. 1924.

silently shed these rules, one by one, and during my twenty years of membership in the Society, I came across only two, or possibly three, mature Jesuits who continued to bear them in mind. The Rules of Modesty are thirteen in number:

1i) As regards the conversation of Ours let it be said in general that in all outward actions there should appear modesty and humility, joined with religious maturity. In particular the following points are to be observed:

(2) The head must not be moved this way or that way lightly, but with gravity, when there is occasion for it; and if there be no occasion for it, let it be held straight with a slight inclination forward, not bending it to either side.

(3) For the most part let the eyes be downcast, neither immoderately lifting them up, nor turning them in this or that direction.

(4) When speaking, especially with men of authority, let not the gaze be fixed full upon the face, but rather a little below the eyes.

(5) Wrinkles on the forehead and much more on the nose are to be avoided so that outwardly serenity may appear, which may give testimony to inward serenity.

(6) The lips must not be tooi much closed nor too much open.

(7) The whole face should display hilarity rather than sadness or any other less moderate affection.

(8) Clothes should be clean, and arranged with religious decency.

(9) The hands, if not engaged in holding one's cloak, should be kept decently quiet.

(10) The gait should be moderate without any notable haste unless necessity requires it; in which case, however, as far as possible care of decorum should be had.

(11) All gestures and movements should be such as to give edification to all.

(12) If many are together the order prescribed by the Superior should be observed, namely, by going in groups of two or three.

(13) If one have to speak he should be mindful of modesty and edification, both as regards the words he uses, and his style and manner of speech.

It was undoubtedly with the object of keeping the Society chaste that Ignatius drew up these remarkable rules and prescribed them for all, old and young, subjects and Superiors. He reasoned no doubt along the lines of the exterior reacting on and controlling the interior. If the eyes were downcast, the head bent, the hands quiet, the expression hilarious, and the lips almost smiling, it would be impossible for evil to find a stable lodging within. Modern psychologists sometimes teach that by "acting as if" you are under the influence of a certain emotion you tend to produce that emotion, or rather to evoke it. Ignatius no doubt had some similar idea in his mind. By "acting as if" he is most modest and chaste, the Jesuit tends to evoke the spirit of chastity. But against the calculation that Ignatius made there stands another well-founded opinion of modern psychology that exterior expression of sex-aloofness and frigidity is itself a compromise with the sex-urge, and a symptom of conflict.

Apart from the "Rules of Modesty," and the rules already quoted from the "Summary," there are other rules called "Aids to Chastity" 5 which are deserving of attention. Jesuits must not read books or periodicals, which although not on the index, are of a kind to endanger morals and the religious spirit. They must not, unless for serious reasons, of which the Superior must be the judge, read novels or other worldly books (fabulas romanenses, aliave opera mere mundana). Superiors are warned to be stern, rather than lenient in this matter, especially with young Jesuits. Furthermore, Jesuits must abstain from pieces of music which are accompanied by mundane songs; they must even abstain from the tunes composed for such purpose.

Apart from practices of mortification, elsewhere referred to, they must diligently observe what is known as the ne tangas (do not touch) rule. The ne tangas rule \reads as follows: "In order that the gravity and modesty which becomes religious men be observed, no one may touch another even in jest, save by embracing as a sign of charity when some one is departing for, or returning from, a journey." This rule was interpreted by my Novice Master as forbidding implicitly the petting of animals. And when a fel-

6 Cf. Const., 6 c. 2, De Aliis Prsesidiis Castitatis. 6 The 34th Common rule.

low novice of mine enquired if "playing 'hobby-horse' with his little brothers and sisters would be against this rule," he was answered in the affirmative. One wonders how Ignatius, in face of this rule, could have "formed his conscience" to instruct his mis-sioners, that on entering the presence of duchesses they should kneel and kiss their hands?

We come now to the attitude of the Society of Jesus towards women. As laid down in the Constitutions, it is the medisevalist attitude of the Church; profound distrust, not unmingled with fear and contempt. Women in general are looked upon as "limbs of Satan," and every effort is made to reduce to the minimum contact with them, and to guard as far as possible against the terrible risks of such contact as is absolutely unavoidable.

As we shall see, there is legislation regulating the visiting of women, and the receiving of visits from them; the writing of letters to women and the receiving of letters from them; the hearing of the confessions of women and the listening to what they may have to say in the church; the giving of retreats to women, and the directing of their souls in spiritual matters.

Already in the Spiritual Exercises, written by Ignatius long before he drew up the Constitutions, we find the Jesuit viewpoint as regards women outlined. "Our Enemy the Devil," writes Ignatius, 7 "resembles the nature and habit of a woman in puniness of force and obstinacy of spirit. For as a woman quarrelling with a man, on seeing him resist her with an erect and firm front, immediately loses courage and turns her back; but on perceiving that he is timid and cowardly rises to the utmost heights of audacity, and attacks him with ferocity; in like manner is the Devil accustomed to lose courage and strength as often as he perceives the spiritual athlete with a brave heart and lofty forehead struggling against his temptations. But if the latter shows signs of fear, etc. . . . there is no beast on earth more infuriated than the Devil."

In spite, however, of such a low estimate of the "nature and habit of women," the Society found in due time that it was very much to their interest to cultivate them. This they attempted, however, in a very gingerly fashion at first, as is shown (and indeed amusingly) in a decree of the Sixth General Congregation, This

7 Cf. Disc, of Spirits.

Congregation evidently occupied itself with the question, "What kind of women are deserving of the honour of being visited by Ours?" The answer it arrived at was as follows:

"Three conditions are necessary that a woman be found worthy of being visited by Our People. In the first place, she must be a person of rank and distinction; for there is no need to show special courtesy to all pious women of whatever estate they be. ... Secondly, she must have uncommon merit as regards services rendered to the Society. Thirdly, the act of courtesy must be welcome to her husband or her relations."

The Congregation that passed this interesting decree was composed of Acquaviva, the General (the "Saviour of the Society") ; his Assistants; and three representative Fathers from each of the many provinces of the Society. It was passed in the golden age of the Order, when Saints, Doctors, Cardinals, and Royal Confessors abounded in its ranks, and when Jesuits were supposed to be the pioneers of Christian charity, science, and perfection.

The most direct and unequivocal evidence of the opinion held by the Society as to the mental gifts of women is found in the Directorium* which to this day is in the hands of every Jesuit. It guides Jesuits in the giving of Retreats, and is founded on the teachings of Ignatius himself. In this book the ninth chapter deals with "The various kinds of people to whom the Exercises can be given," and the fifteenth section states that "if they be ignorant (rude*, i.e., uncouth or unlettered), and uncultured (illiterate), not much time is to be spent on them, nor are the whole Exercises to be given them." Thus the Society differentiates between the rudes and the rest, and teaches that it is unprofitable to waste time on the former or to bother about their spiritual advancement.

The section which follows ? deals with the case of women, "some of whom sometimes seek to make the Exercises." And we find this startling statement: "In their case the same method is to be observed as in the case of ignorant men (rudes)" The only exception allowed is in the case of women "of good judgment, capable of spiritual things, and having sufficient leisure time at home." But even if the women be such as this exception demands, the Jesuit

8 The book of directions of the Spiritual Exercises.

9 The sixteenth.

giving the Exercises must still be on his guard. He must give the Exercises in the church. He must take pains to avoid scandal, or suspicion. He must not hand them written meditations, lest men should think he was handing them billets doux. If he cannot possibly avoid handing to them written meditations, he must manage the matter in an altogether discreet way (fiat omnino discrete).

Turning now to what we may call direct intercourse with women we find the following general rule laid down: 10 "In dealing with women Ours must always display spiritual gravity and modesty, and most carefully avoid anything in the nature of friendliness" (om-nemque familiaritatis speciem). There is a rule " which prescribes the kind of parlour in which the visits of women may be received: "The place destined for receiving the visits of women and hearing what they have to say should be such that it might truly be said to be open (ut vere patens dici potest), and so placed that whatever is done in it can easily be seen by the janitor and the passers-by." Needless to say the Order does not consider the question of hospitality or of the feelings of such guests. It only looks to safeguarding the virtue of its members and its own reputation, and leaves the rest to chance. Hence it lays down the following instructions for the Jesuit who is the recipient of the lady's visit: "Ours must not receive visits from women unless rarely and unless they serve some truly useful purpose. Ours must not hold long conversations with women."

As regards the paying of visits to women, only Jesuits of great prudence and well-proven virtue are supposed to do so, and then only when it is absolutely necessary, or when there is hope of great fruit. But even Fathers so grave, so well proven in virtue and so prudent (valde probatis et prudentibus), may not enter the lioness's den unguarded. .They must have with them a trustworthy Jesuit companion, specially appointed for the purpose by the Superior, who is instructed to keep them in sight all the time, and who is pledged to denounce to the Superior anything that happens of an unedifying nature. In some parts of the Constitutions this companion is spoken of as a "testis" a witness; and he represents not only moral pro-? tection (or "support," as it is called), but also legal precautions against defamation. One wonders what the feelings of a lady

1( > Epit. Const. 462. " Epit. 457-

benefactor of the Society would be did she know that, even -though deemed worthy of a visit, she was still so far distrusted as to be only allowed the privilege of conversing with one of "Our People" when the latter was under the protection of a friendly witness.

Needless to say all these wonderful precautions are disregarded, and when a grave father takes it into his head to visit a pious female he goes alone and conforms as well as his knowledge of social usages directs him to ordinary ways of life. But let us accompany him on such a visit, a perfectly harmless visit, in order that afterwards by way of recapitulation, we may estimate how many holy rules and precautions safeguarding his chastity he violates.

Father X., then, calls in the afternoon on good Mrs. Y. While waiting in the parlour he glances over some reviews that he finds on the table. She comes down and he chats with her alone. She invites him to have a cup of tea, and he accepts her hospitality. The children are brought in and he pats them on the head, and takes Tommy on his knee. He answers Mrs. Y.'s questions about Frs. A. and B., and tells her about Fr. Rector's plans for a new organ in the church. He gives Mrs. Y. advice about some matters of business and promises to attend to some details for. her. He accepts a little present for himself, and-on the whole has a pleasant and edifying tete-a-tete, but, alas, though he has succeeded in edifying Mrs. Y., especially as he gives her and the children his blessing before leaving, he has "played the Devil" with his rules. And unless his conscience has become extremely lax, he makes his way home with a heavy load on his soul.

What a multitude of rules he has broken by his pious and well-intentioned dissipation! He broke rules by going out alone; by conversing alone with a woman; by conversing with a woman in a place that was not open; and by holding a long conversation with her; by eating outside his monastery; Iby eating outside mealtime; by accepting a present; by recounting things done in "the house"; by touching the children; by reading a review; by promising to take part in business. Each and every one of these rules is considered very important, and among them are the essential safeguards to chastity. How long, one wonders, would Fr. X.'s virtue last under such a strain?

As regards the hearing of the confessions of women there is

much legislation: "It is the Provincial's duty to designate regular confessors and he must choose for this office men mature in spirit and virtue, especially in the case where the confessions of women are to be heard." The Order exercises equal vigilance whether the women be Nuns or abide in the world. And in fact it seems in many ways to discriminate unfavourably against the former.

"Ours may not undertake the care of Nuns or of other women, or girls living in communities, nor may Ours rule, them or serve as ordinary confessors, either of the whole community or of an individual, or mix in their affairs. No one of Ours is permitted to frequent convents unless he be of mature age and do so for sake of some spiritual ministry approved of by the Superior." . . . "As regards the extraordinary confessors of Nuns (i.e., those called in a few times a year, or on special occasions), only those who are over forty years of age are to be appointed, unless for some just reason that the Bishop considers sufficient; such extraordinary confessors must not become involved in any way in the internal or external government of the community."

There is a long history behind Jesuit discrimination against Nuns and communities of "pious women" dating from the days of Ignatius, into which it is not necessary to enter. Other Orders, such as the Dominicans and Franciscans, have what are more or less "female branches," Dominican and Franciscan Nuns. But there are no Sisters of Jesus affiliated officially with the Jesuits, although the Sacred Heart Nuns are very close imitators of Jesuits as regards their Constitutions.

The writing of letters to women and the receiving of letters from them was evidently a source of the gravest anxiety to the legislators of the Society. It was not considered sufficient that all such letters should be read by Superiors. Apparently, it was considered that the very fact of corresponding with women was in itself dangerous. The fact that letters were concerned with "spiritual matters" did not make any difference. The Devil could come in and go out in spiritual letters as easily as in others. Furthermore, the Society possibly dreaded the female perfume still clinging to the dry pages, covered though they might be with pious aspirations. Anyhow we have the legislation that follows:"

» Cf, Epit. 253-255-

"Ours, particularly our young men, are not to be allowed to write to women, unless the letters be read through, and then only if there be a just and grave reason. As regards incoming letters marked 'conscience matter,' especially if they be from women, even from Nuns, the following rules are to be observed: (i) None of Ours may promise to give spiritual direction by correspondence. If he is asked to do so he must refuse, unless he wish beforehand to find out what the Superior thinks about the matter. (2) The Superior must not allow such a promise to be given unless rarely and for grave reasons, and then only by men trustworthy on account of their age, experience and solid virtue. Nor may a Superior himself, without letting the Provincial know, undertake such a correspondence. (3) When without due permission such letters are delivered to him, if he (the Superior) be certain that they contain secrets of conscience, he must not read them; but whether he deliver them or not, he must take care that the writer be warned (unless grave reasons prevent this) that in future the writer abstain from letters of this kind; or, if not, that in future the letters will be destroyed without any previous warning being given."

Some Superiors do not hesitate to tear up letters that are, according to custom, placed in their boxes, to ibe posted, and they do not take the trouble to advise the writer of the tearing up of his letters. One Superior, under whom I lived, tore up so many letters that it was customary, after writing a letter, to seize an opportunity of inspecting his waste-paper basket to ascertain the fate of one's letters. One of my letters to a fellow Jesuit was found among a Superior's papers when he died. Though it had been opened it had never been delivered. It was a letter, written from Louvain, containing information about the history of a certain St. Dymphna of Gele, whose name had been taken in religion by the sister of the Jesuit to whom I wrote. ^

The Constitutions of the Jesuit Order emphasises the fact that Jesuits are to attend to the spiritual needs of men in preference to women. A section, 18 which lays down the order in which the demands of the faithful are to be attended to, states: "As to what concerns people, other things being equal, those at^ome are to be helped before outsiders; among the latter those first of all who need " Cf. Epit. 603.

help most; and those from whom more remarkable, more permanent and more universal spiritual fruit is hoped for; and in general men are to le helped rather than women" (et generatim viri majis quam mulieres).

The strategy of Jesuit warfare against sex, thus far described, has been wholly that of repression. The two chapters of the Epitome which deal with Chastity, are entitled, "Concerning the Clausura," and "Concerning other Safeguards of Chastity." These two chapters are wholly devoted to prohibitions. In the mind of the Order there appears to be no other way of dealing with the sex-urge than to war it down; to crush it as a thing evil in itself; and to banish every manifestation of it, from interest in light romances to delight in giddy tunes. Prayer, fasting, penance; flight from occasion; manifestation of temptations; assiduity in pious reading; holy occupations; together with coldness towards such as provoke feelings of "sympathy and natural affection"; were the chief means prescribed by the Jesuit General Acquaviva for the conquest of this virtue. There is not the slightest hint of the possibility of sublimation. Sex must be choked to death, in spite of its being the mainspring of so many important activities of life. Reading between the lines of the Jesuit Constitutions, one would gather that the Jesuit view is that God somehow mismanaged things by placing so unholy a desire in the heart of man as sex-hunger, and that in creating man He did his work badly, or at least not so well.

• ••••••

The history of the Society of Jesus shows very plainly that Jesuits were much less fearful of the contaminating influence of high-born women than of such as were of lowly or less noble birth. Ignatius himself, as we have seen, made a very clear distinction between women of high and low estate, telling his followers that "they must not enter into relations with women unless they are women of distinguished position." The Jesuit General, Mercurian, following Ignatius' lead, wrote to a Provincial of Upper Germany that "women of rank, (who must, however, be at least baronesses^, may enter the colleges of the Society. But care should be taken that steady matrons and not young ladies should be the companfons of the lady of rank." T^ Society no doubt

believed in the literal interpretation of the motto "noblesse oblige." General Acquaviva, as usual outspoken and dogmatic, wrote: "Most carefully familiarity with women of 'poor or low estate should be avoided as they are most exposed to suspicion and danger." One wonders if such as he could be in complete approval of some of Jesus' friendships.

Jesuits in the seventeenth and eighteenth Centuries seem to have taken the bit between their teeth and to have boldly widened the gap left them by their founder, in respect of commerce with noble ladies. Indeed for nearly 200 years, preceding the suppression of the Order in 1773, there was hardly a Catholic Queen or Princess who had not a Jesuit director. These noble ladies befriended the Order in many ways, and countless favours and possessions of all kinds came to the Order through them. It was, as Paul Van Dyke hints, due to the influence of Costanza, the illegitimate daughter of Paul III, that this venerable pontiff gave his approval to the foundation of the Order, and as we have seen, it was through the wicked but able Catherine of Russia that the Order was in some measure able to nullify Clement XIV's Brief of Suppression. The best friends the Society has ever had have been its noble lady friends.

The immediate advantages of cultivating noble ladies is seen for instance in the letters of the English Jesuit, Fr. Gerrard, who worked secretly in Elizabeth's kingdom. "I also received," he wrote, "many general confessions, among others that of a widow lady of high rank (Lady Lovel), who for the rest of her days applied herself to good works and gave me an annual sum of a thousand florins for the Society. Another widow, Mrs. Fortescue, gave me seven hundred." An English priest of the time, Fr. William Watson, who was very hostile to the Jesuits, wrote of Fr. Gerrard: "Another drift he hath by the exercise of cousinage; which is to persuade such gentlewomen as have large fortunes to their marriage to give the same to him and his companions and become nuns. So he^ prevailed! with two of Mr. Wiseman's daughters," etc.

If one glances over the reports sent in to Ignatius by his missionaries one finds lists of noblewomen visited and comforted. Paschasius Broet, for instance, writing from Bononia, 14 refers to

14 September 6, 1550.

three edifying incidents; the first concerns "a certain woman of noble blood"; the second, "men and women of noble blood"; and the third, a woman "both noble and devout." The implication is, doubtless, that ministry done in such high social circles is not only more edifying intrinsically, but also far removed from the breath of scandal.

There is no doubt but that Jesuits have had in the past and still continue to have a remarkable power over women. Jesuit churches are thronged with women, and fashionable Catholic ladies consider that it is "the thing" to be directed by Jesuits and to frequent their churches. Women are the Jesuits' best friends. It may be a certain suavity in the Jesuit manner, a certain diplomatic deftness, often lacking in secular priests, together with a general air of good breeding that delights and charms them. Jesuits, as Hoensbroech said, "work by fascination." They feel themselves predestined to greatness and success; the chosen Order of God; the inheritors of a great name; and such a psychic background enhances all they say and do. The greatness of the Order is subtly suggested, together with the learning and holiness of its members. Catholic women both in and out of religion have hitherto fallen an easy prey to the Jesuit way. Fr. Tyrrell seemed to think that Jesuit influence over women would not survive their awakened critical spirit due to increased interest in science. That, however, remains to be seen.

One fact seems certain, that in many countries, and of a few I can speak with personal knowledge, Jesuits would have been starved out were it not for women-folk. In Ireland, for instance, it is beyond question that were it not for the Nuns and the pious Catholic ladies of Dublin and Limerick, the Jesuits long since would have had to leave the country; their schools would have been empty, their collection-plates in Gardiner Street, Dublin, and The Crescent, Limerick, would have been bare, their pious booklets would have remained unsold, and their retreat-givers out of commission.

The Jesuit characteristics of pride, aloofness and insincerity which antagonise men, lay and clerical, do not seem to repel women to the same extent, or else it may be, that in spite of their rules, in dealing with women Jesuits display a kind of sweetness and

. friendliness that exercises an irresistible charm. However that may be, it is a piquant situation for the Order to be so largely dependent for its existence on the support of that sex that it treats of so harshly and contemptuously in its Constitutions.

*••••••

Returning now to the quotation from Fr. Genelli, S.J., with which this chapter opened, and in which he states that "no assertion against the immaculate chastity of the Society has ever been f roved" we must in fairness declare that at least some evidence contrary to his claim is adducible. From time to time Jesuit houses and colleges have been raided by Government Officials and private papers seized. In the State Archives of Bavaria, to take one instance, there are private Jesuit papers, seized in this way, including letters from Provincials to Generals, Reports of Visitators, and so forth. Among these papers are some which give an insight into the state of morals of the Jesuit Upper German Province, at the close of the sixteenth century and later. Dr. Heinrich von Lang 1S published some of these papers, among them a report made by a very famous Jesuit, Fr. Hoffaus, who had been sent by the General Acquaviva as Visitator of the Province in 1596. From this report we take the following quotation: '

"It is to be regretted that so many beneficial precautionary measures (for the preservation of chastity) are not always observed or are observed very carelessly. Feasting, (commessationes), and frequent visits to single females at their residences take place without necessity. Rendezvous are given in the church for long conversations with women, and there are scandalously long confessions of women even of those who frequently confess. Confessions of sick women in their houses are heard without the presence of a companion who can see the confessor ^and penitent. Frequently, yes! very frequently intimacy prevails between two persons, (confessor and female penitent), without any trace of strict repression on the confessor's part. I fear that sweet and agreeable words are exchanged which are tinged with carnal lust and carnal feelings. Unpleasant occurrences which lead to apostasy and expulsion from the Society teach us what great evils are caused by such transgressions in the case of confessors. Must there not be a strange 15 Director of Bavarian State Archives.

aberration of intellect and heart when confessors in a free and unembarrassed manner and without fear of shame dare to pass many hours joking with women before the criticising eyes of the world as if they themselves and their penitents were not in any danger from such unrestricted intercourse? It is known, and has also reached the ears of the Prince that confessors from amongst our Order have become entangled through such Satanic examples of vice, and have apostatised or been expelled from the Society as evil nuisances." 16

Besides quoting such official Jesuit reports as that of Fr. Hoffaus, Dr. Heinrich von Lang refers to several instances of the frailty of Jesuits of the early Society; official Jesuit records of which are still preserved in the Austrian and Bavarian State Archives. And needless to say the works of anti-Jesuit writers abound with instances of Jesuit wrong-doing. It is] however, in no sense the purpose of this chapter to enlarge on this matter or to multiply evidence calculated to upset the claim of Fr. Genelli.

Every one knows that from time to time Jesuits have become involved in serious scandals in every country in the world, and any one who cares to devote his time to the unprofitable occupation can without difficulty discover many particular instances of wrong-doing of every kind among the Jesuits. Within my own experience in the Society I came across many very serious scandals, but my chief interest in them was the fact that in the majority of these scandals the guilty parties were "Professed Fathers," "Patricians," some of whom were celebrated for their asceticism and piety, and not mere "Coadjutor Fathers," the "Plebeians" of the Order.

Particular instances of wrong-doing, however, mean nothing, and every thoughtful person realises with Fr. Tyrrell that "scandals prove nothing unless they can be shown to result -per se from the principles according to which the Society is governed, and unless it can be shown that as a rule good men become less good or bad, and bad men become worse."

The question therefore at issue is not whether some particular Jesuits are immoral, but whether as a whole the Society of Jesus deserves the reputation of being "immaculately chaste."

16 Reusch, Beitrage sur Geschichte des Jesuitenordens, 1894. Trans, by Hoensbroech.

Towards answering this question evidence of very general scope can be given; evidence not restricted to what is isolated and particular, but to what is very general if not universal. In the first place, those "safeguards," set up by the Order for the preservation of chastity, and on which the Order sets so much value, such as "The Rules of Modesty"; the rules regulating the visiting of single women; the rule of companionship; the rule forbidding the reading of light literature and romances; the ne tongas rule, and so forth, are disregarded almost completely. The only safeguard that is to my knowledge well observed is the general Church law of clausura, forbidding the admission of women into the private quarters of Jesuit houses. But even this law is at times disregarded on the pretext that no official clausura has been set up, and I have known a Jesuit Superior to invite ladies into his private room, which also served as bedroom, and to allow subjects to do likewise.

So much for the disappearance of those outworks of chastity that the founder of the Order considered a sine qua non of this virtue. As regards those external signs of sex-conflict and sex-abnormality, which modern psychology has so carefully studied and classified, are Jesuit communities so wholly unmarked by symptomatic manifestations that they have a right to be regarded as immune from sex-trouble? Or do Jesuits in general display external signs of sex-trouble, to the same approximate degree as other men ? If so, from the standpoint of modern science at least, they will not be able to substantiate their claim to immaculate chastity!

It seems to me that Jesuits in general display external symptoms of sex-trouble to the same extent as average men in the world. When one glances round a Jesuit community, one's eyes fall on some who are morose and introvert; v. others who have strange "tics"; others who are well known for their sadistic cruelty to boys; others, quite a large class, who notably cultivate nice-looking "boy-friends"; others "who are famous for their salacious stories; others who are morbidly preoccupied with "peeping" inquisitively, sometimes by the aid of binoculars; others who are characteristically restless with "wander-lust." Other Jesuits, perhaps the largest class of all, are spiritual •polygamists, who cultivate large harems of pious "mulierculse" whose devotions they foster by sympathetic

pious petting. Many Jesuits there are also who keep hidden away in their rooms risque French novels.

There is, of course, nothing in the nature of gross public irregularity. Exterior order and respectability is always aimed at, and the military spirit of Ignatius Loyola is still strong enough in the Order to inspire court-martial proceedings in the case of public wrong-doing. But the lesser infringements of modesty and angel-icity can no longer be coped with by Superiors, and one is no longer startled if one hears in a Jesuit corridor, ornamented perhaps by the grim-visaged portraits of Saints and Generals, a female voice exclaiming laughingly, "Oh, Father dear, you are rippingly funny!"

When I say that one notices the symptomatic signs of sex-trouble in the average Jesuit community, I should make exception for Noviceships. Whatever be the other psychic effects of Novice-ship life, it certainly seems to completely anaesthetise the sex-urge. In the faces of novices one beholds a healthy brightness and a sincere joyousness. Purity and chastity seem to exude from their eyes. They seem immersed in a Nirvana of holy innocence, save when from time to time external occupations arouse them from their dreams. The ideal of generous sacrifice and unselfishness, put before them graphically, concretely and in an emotionally inspiring way, lifts them spiritually out of the atmosphere of base material things, and etherealises them, for the time being. This acme of enthusiasm and fervour does not, however, survive the complete withdrawal from the world that Noviceship life entails. Little by little, in the course of their subsequent studies the bright fresh innocence of their faces wanes, giving place to looks of trouble and disillusionment. Sadness is in their hearts because they can no longer breathe that sweet rarefied air of celestial chastity. Base things intrude themselves into their souls with more and more urgency. And by the time that, as Fathers, they come to take their parts with others in the external works of the Society they show the usual human signs of man's warfare with the Siva of sex.

Whether Ignatius Loyola's ideal of "emulating angelical purity in cleanliness both of body and mind" has been achieved by the Order he founded must be left to the reader to decide. If he enquires for himself he will find that in the Society of Jesus as in

heaven there is no "marrying or giving in marriage," but I believe that he will also find that the old severity, still clamorously insisted upon by Rome, has been surreptitiously replaced by more modern ways. If he calls upon some Jesuit Dean of Studies, or Director of a Paper, installed in his up-to-date office, instead of finding a severe-looking priest, with downcast eyes and head slightly bowed, assisted by a grim-visaged lay-brother as scribe, he will find as likely as not an attentive lady-typist, closeted with the good Father, and pleasantly taking down his dictation.

• *•••••

Once more one is up against the Jesuit enigma, the discrepancy between principles and practice; between the Society of Jesus as it exists in the Constitutions, and the Society as it is in actual life; between the offhand way in which it sheds its most sacred rules in the daylight of existence, and the intransigence with which it refuses to displace a comma of its inspired Koran.

CHAPTER VII

JESUIT MIND-HEALING

NOT many Jesuits pass through the training period of the Order without developing some form of eccentricity. The extremte tension of the Noviceship and early years of study, followed by the steady grind of repression in subsequent phases of the Jesuit's life, almost inevitably result in some pathological characteristic. A normal Jesuit is as rare as a white blackbird,, and the spirit of peace which marks the Trappist finds its counterpart in the spirit of restlessness which characterises the Jesuit.

One can easily understand therefore how rich a field a Jesuit community offers for the study of abnormalities. If one is interested in unusual facial expressions; in peculiar forms of abstraction; in strange types of "tic"; in subtle manifestations of hysteria and neurasthenia; or in bizarre obsessions, one should secure the hospitality of a Jesuit house and observe the community closely. If one remains long enough, one without doubt will also have an opportunity of witnessing some of those sudden violent storms that burst without warning among men, who live at variance with the laws of nature, and at a high tension of internal repression. If it be true, as modern psychology pretends, that external acts and postures, whether conscious or unconscious, are inevitably symptomatic of internal moods, and ideas, and that the human is ever and always betraying his soul by his outward expressions, the things which happen and pass in and before the minds of Jesuits must indeed be very strange.

Many Jesuits suffer from insomnia and headaches; many, especially among the younger members, have "broken heads" (obsessional neuralgia); many are melancholic; many scrupulous, and victims of phobias. The persecution mania is, as might be expected from our study of the Jesuit espionage system, exceedingly common. A Jesuit tainted with this malady believes that every

one is plotting against him; reporting him to his Superior; watching where he goes and what he does; scheming to deprive him of whatever privileges he enjoys; and in general determined to ruin him. He suspects every one, and retires more and more into himself. Sometimes this mania takes an extreme form. One Father, of whom I heard, collected huge stones in his room and barricaded himself against all comers, threatening to kill any one who should try to enter.

Suicidal and homicidal manias are not unknown in the Society, but naturally the victims of these maladies are sent away, or put into mental homes. The praecox tendency showing itself in "glorified egos" is frequently encountered. Such Jesuits boast of their blue blood; of their prowess as teachers, orators, athletes, artists and theologians; or of the extraordinary amount of work that they do. The Order attributes their boastings to pride, and takes no cognisance of the activity of subconscious complexes. There are many forms of cleptomania to be observed, from collecting knives, pins, books and golf balls to incontinently stealing tobacco and other things. One Jesuit, of whom I heard, had as a "fetish" white linen. When he vacated his room an enormous quantity of sheets, pillow-cases, towels and so forth were found accumulated under his bed and in cupboards. The "fetish" cult as practised in the Order usually takes on a pious form, namely the collection of objects of devotion. Sadism (the torturing of others) and masochism (self-torture) are apparently common in the Order. I have known some Jesuits to lash boys with hard leather straps in a state of passionate excitement, while the boys writhed in agony, and blood flowed from their hands. These sadistic Jesuits, with flushed faces and dilated pupils, seemed to glory in their orgy. As to masochism, I have seen Jesuits invite boys to throw hard balls at them with as much strength as they could; to hit them with sticks; to squeeze their fingers with wrenches until the blood almost oozed from under their fingernails; and to inflict other suchlike tortures upon them. Exhibitionism is, curiously enough, much in evidence in the Order. It may ( be that it proves to be the most natural reaction against the Rules of Modesty and similar forms of external repression. When during vacation time communities go to the seaside for a brief "villa,"

Jesuits are as unrestrained in their free-from-clothes sportings as inhabitants of central Africa. Exhibitionism is seen, too, in senseless feats of daring very common among young Jesuits. Some ride down precipitous hills on bicycles devoid of brakes; some roll down the sides of steep heights blindfolded; some swim dangerous channels without an escorting boat. In these and other ways they give expression to the violent reaction that the enforced restraint of their lives generates. There is hardly a single form of exciting enterprise, not excepting boxing, wrestling and beer-drinking contests, that I have not seen Jesuits engage in. Yet few, if any, take thought of the psychological significance of exhibitionism.

There are Jesuits who never take baths, and Jesuits who are eternally washing their hands. There are Jesuits who paste paper over pictures in books that reveal the human figure, and Jesuits who collect pictures of pretty actresses. There are Jesuits who do everything in "threes," in devotion to the Trinity, and Jesuits who write all their notes on bits of torn paper out of love of "Holy Poverty." Finally, there are many Jesuits who crawl like worms, under the urge of inferiority complexes, and as many others who strut" 5 like peacocks, under the full blast of superiority complexes.

Hypochondria, in a more or less pronounced form, is exceedingly common among Jesuits. The rule imposes a "moderate care of the health," but there is no moderation in the care which "hipped" Jesuits bestow on their physical well-being. Some claim that their stomachs are so weak that they need an altogether special diet; some complain of lack of vitality and 'are content to smoke and read the newspapers; indefinite and indescribable pains in the head or heart afflict others; fatigue in all its forms is rampant; and from every community there ascends to heaven a mighty wail of complaints. The only authorised psychotherapy afforded these numerous victims of neuroses is an increase of pious endeavour, which, as might be expected, is as little efficacious against their mental sicknesses as it would be against gout or gangrene.

Already allusion has been made to platonic homosexuality in the Order. In every college there are masters conspicuous for their attention to "boy-friends," who are called, in some places, "sucks"

and "tarts." At Clongowes College, Ireland, nothing was more common than to hear a boy spoken of as "a suck of Father

So and So," or "one of Fr. 's tarts" Legislation was made

in the Order against admitting boys to the rooms of the members of the community, but such legislation, enacted no doubt as a consequence of abuses, is only very partially observed. The homosexual type of Jesuit invariably becomes a favourite of the Superior, to whom he carries tales, and whom he flatters and serves with docile affection. He soon acquires so much influence in high quarters that he can satisfy his petty spites and take revenge on men who despise him. Homosexual Jesuits are great "stay-at-homes." They take no part in noisy outbreaks. They fall in very easily with Superiors' regulations (possibly suggested by themselves), and attain a reputation for "strict observance." Sometimes they develop pseudo-mystical propensities, which, of course, enhance still more their fame for piety. In due time some of them become Superiors and display suspiciousness, spitefulness and extreme pettiness. While they reign as Superiors they are the bane of the Order, and have no other principle than favouritism. One such I knew who could win the favour of any Superior. In due time he rilled many high offices. "But his chief interest was his boy-friends; a long succession of then}; some of whom he taught to sing, others to garden, others to serve Mass, others to read poetry, others to adorn shrines, others to collect wild flowers with him for the altars. All the while higher Superiors saw -in him an admirable and prudent Jesuit. They listened to his bitter denunciations as though they were suggested by charity. And they consulted him in all matters of importance. There is no doubt that one of the sources of decay in the Society of Jesus has been the legislation and governmental spirit introduced by the Jesuits of homosexual mentality.

The "dromomaniacs" (hoboes) are the healthiest and happiest class in the Society. ' It is the Jesuits' vocation, according to the Constitutions, "to travel to various places"; and in what does the dromomaniac delight more? If he is placed on the mission staff he is especially fortunate. He takes to the road, and travels the country giving missions and retreats, marching at the head of processions and organising pilgrimages. He has fewer complaints

to make than Jesuits in other occupations, and as a rule enjoys good health. It is not unfair to attribute much of the success of the famous far-travelling Jesuit missionaries of the early times to the "hobo urge" that kept them ever moving. Xavier himself, who could never remain long in one place, and who was, I think, reprimanded by Ignatius for his "Basque restlessness," undoubtedly felt the influence of dromomania. No less so did the famous de Smet, the Rocky Mountain missioner.

One finds "pyromaniacs" (firebugs) too in the Society. Some are "candle fiends," always enthused about illuminations. With one such I was intimate when in the Order. Poor fellow, he has since died. He was melancholic and restless, the one joy of his life being to light fires. Often I accompanied him on long walks in the country, and he never failed on such walks to set something or other on fire. His fatal illness developed by reason of his staying up all night to watch the smouldering of a fire that had broken out in the house in which he was staying. When dying the chief craving he felt was for the heat of a fire and the cheerfulness of its blaze.

Early in the training period of the Order a very definite effort is made to create a "mother-fixation" on the Society. The rules abound with repetitions of the phrase "Our Holy Mother the Society." Particular virtues are to be cultivated in this sense. "All must love poverty as a Mother," etc. The Master of Novices instils this attitude of mind into the novices, trying as it were to transfer to the Society the love that novices feel for their real mothers. Sentimental "child-mother" songs are sung in the Order, in which some such refrain as that used by French Jesuits occurs.

"Oh! Ma mere, Oh Compagnie!" ("Oh! My mother, Oh Society!") This "mother-fixation" is especially approved of, as it engenders an attitude of childlike docility and simplicity towards Superiors; an attitude held up as "the true spirit of the Society."

It is well known to psycho-analysts that a "mother-fixation" exercises a very unhealthy influence. Psycho-analysts do not of course find fault with honest, sincere love of mother and true appreciation of the value of a mother's devotion, but they have nothing but distrust of that sentimental absorption in a mother

that emasculates a man, and unfits him for independent determination of his own career. It invariably initiates a tendency towards some perverse form of sexuality; more often than not it makes men homosexual.

One has a right therefore to look for some significant feature in the conduct of those Jesuits in whom the "mother-fixation" towards the Order is especially strong. And it is, I believe, to be found in the suspiciousness and spitefulness that characterise a type of Jesuit I have described a few pages back.

The Order is, of course, not without solicitude for its suffering members. In the case of Jesuits who are physically sick, the best available medical assistance is usually afforded them. Those, however, who are sick in mind, who suffer from neuroses, are less fortunate. The Order regards such sufferers as victims of their own spiritual shortcomings. "Mens sana y in anima -pia?' (a sound mind in a pious soul), is an implicit Jesuit motto. Either the neurosis is a "temptation of the devil," or due to a lack of humility, or of prayer, or of obedience, or of mortification.

The Jesuit method of treatment for the neurotics of the Order was reduced to a system by the fifth General of the Society, Claudius Acquaviva, in a treatise called Industries. The full title of the treatise reads: "Instructions for Superiors of the Society in the curing of diseases of the Soul" It gives the precepts of spiritual medicine (medicinse spirituals prsecepta), and explains "the many things that are necessary; and that concern the doctor himself, (medicum ipsum), and the patient, (infirmum)." The Superior, irrespective of his temperament, experience or skill in psychology, is ipo factOy "the doctor himself." The patient has no choice but to submit to his treatment. Both are under obedience to the "Industrise," and both have been trained to think and believe that for a Jesuit obedience is more precious than "the gift of raising the dead to life" (St. Ignatius).

There is perhaps no official document of the Jesuits that throws so much light on the inner working and mentality of the Society as the "Industrie." It frankly exposes the sixteen classes of maladies that afHict Jesuits. It indicates, too, the species of moral faults, existent in the Order, to which these .maladies are to be attributed. It puts the reader in possession of all the various kinds

of punishment, penance, threat and reprimand that Superiors are to make use of in curing these maladies and it reveals the part spying, denouncing and equivocation play in government of a Jesuit house, and incidentally in the cure of the sick! As is customary with official Jesuit documents, it is replete with pious aphorisms and worldly wisdom, mixing the one with the other inextricably. It regards even such purely natural mental states as depression, hypochondria and scruples (folie de doute), as being due to supernatural causes. It sees wickedness in introversion, and abandonment of God in extroversion (effusio ad exteriora), and it makes of the devil a great arch-complex.

The Superior, of course, is featured as playing a splendid role. He is the kind father; the wise judge; the sagacious ruler; the inspired reader of character; and the divine healer. He foresees all; disposes of all things well; plays his cards with marvellous dexterity; and so works upon the rebellious nature of his patient that he brings him back to tears, repentance, good habits and perfect health.

The method of dealing with each of the sixteen maladies is outlined; how the Superior is to receive the patient; the cheerfulness or sternness or love that he is to display; the strategy he is to follow in eliciting the patient's confidence; the replies he is to give to the patient's questions, and so forth. If he is dealing with a patient who is suffering from "secretiveness and lack of openness" (profunditas et defectus claritatis); a vice that lets in the devil and gives him his way; a vice "than which no other vice so resists remedies"; the Superior must show himself exceedingly kind and friendly, so that the patient's "esteem for the love shown him will give birth to confidence." If the Superior is dealing with a hypochondriac he must practise pious dissimulation and at first pretend' to believe in the* reality of his patient's symptoms. If he knows that the patient desires to remain in the house in which he is, he must get doctors to recommend a change of location. The patient then will insist on stopping where he is, and this being allowed, improvement will begin.

The "Industrie" is in many respects an extraordinary document, but in nothing does it so transgress the laws of intelligibility as in explaining beforehand to the neurotic patients the various tricks

that are to be 'played upon them in order to hoax them and coax them into good health. For the "Industrie" is placed in the hands of every Jesuit; potential patient as well as Superior. It is in the Thesaurus Spiritualis (the Jesuit prayer and rule book) that every Jesuit receives on the morning he makes his first vows.

Frankly it is a baffling puzzle why the Order published this document- if it intended it to be used for its professed purpose. Any Jesuit psycho-neurotic can, before he betakes himself to his Superior for treatment, read a full account of all that he is going to say and all that his Superior is going to do. Perhaps the Order did not think that subjects would read this document. Or, what is more likely, the Order may not have placed much faith in its own method of psycho-therapy. Be that as it may, the "Industrie" is the official Jesuit contribution to the science of mind-healing (as the "Ratio" is the official Jesuit contribution to education), and the role that Freud has played in recent years was attempted by Acquaviva in the last decade of the sixteenth century.

Perhaps, at this point, it may be well to forestall a "refutation" that will certainly be attempted. I shall be accused of misinterpreting this treatise and of criticising from the standpoint of psychotherapy a work of a purely spiritual character, which has in view the removal of moral defects alone. It will be affirmed that Acquaviva had no such thought as to write about neurology, and that it is unfair to assume that he wished to pose as a neurologist.

The answer is not difficult to find. Acquaviva says distinctly, in reference to "imaginary sickness" (imaginatio infirmitatis), to which he devotes a whole chapter, that "these are human infrrmitiesy to be borne with patiently, and treated in a gentle way" (has sunt infirmitates humanas, toleranda? patienter et curanda; suaviter). Surely this makes it clear that his "Industrie" had not in view moral faults alone. Again, in the * same chapter, he gives what for his age was a tolerably good description of a psycho-neurosis, although all psycho-neurotics are for him "melancholici"

"The melancholic is peculiar in his impressions and imaginings; and it sometimes happens that although no change occurs in his body he will come to believe that he is fully restored to health . . . and subsequently is able to do great things." Here once more we

Jesuit Mind-Healing '153

see clearly that Acquaviva had in mind diseases that were in no sense moral.

As a matter of fact some credit should be accorded to Acquaviva for his realisation of the efficacy of suggestion of the Coue kind. He makes the Superior promise his patient that he will shortly be well again, "so that he may little by little lay aside his idea of sickness and affirm that already he is feeling better" (ita ut paulatim ipsemet hanc cogitationem deponat, asseratquese jam melius habere).

The misfortune is that Acquaviva shut his eyes to the fact that at the basis of most of the "spiritual diseases" he treated of, there lay purely natural causes, and that he insisted on applying pious remedies and punishments, some of" which were atrociously cruel, as though by stimulating the fear of God the sick mind could be healed. Who will doubt that such diseases as "aridity," "distracti-bility," "languor and debility of spirit," "secretiveness," "melancholy and scruples," "imaginary disease," etc., are basically amoral states of mind or tendencies? Yet Acquaviva deals with them as though they were moral disabilities.

The Jesuit diseases of soul are classified as follows, under sixteen heads.

(1) Aridity and distraction in prayer, together with desolation in devotion.

(2) Languor and debility in spirit and in virtue.

(3) Defective obedience.

(4) Absorption in external things, (effusio ad exteriora).

(5) Love of Precedence and Dignity, (amor excellentise et honoris).

(6) Tendencies towards carnal pleasures and intimacies, (in-,clinatio ad sensualitates et amicitias).

(7) Secretiveness and lack of openness, (profunditas et defectus claritatis).

(8) Anger, impatience and aversion from other Jesuits.

(9) Laxity in observing rules and laxity of conscience.

(10) Imagined sickness, with a seeking for repose and refusal of duty.

(n) Temptation against the Institute and against rules which displease.

(12) Temptation against the Superior, together with aversion from him and distrust in him.

(13) Worldliness and diplomacy in insinuating oneself into the friendship and favour of externs.

(14) Obstinacy, pertinacity and argumentativeness.

(15) Disturbance of the peace and sowing of discords and quarrels.

(16) Melancholy and scruples.

To each of these "diseases" a chapter is devoted, containing an analysis of the malady, and directing the Superior how he is to treat it, and what his attitude should be. He is reminded of Saint Basil's opinion, that "there Is nothing in human nature which cannot be healed by diligence; nor any vice so grave as not to be cdnquered by the fear of God" He is told that he must convince his patient that he is sick and make him examine his conscience so that he may come to realise the fact himself.

If he cannot see for himself that he is sick he must at least believe that he is. In spiritual diseases, unlike bodily diseases, the patient is ignorant of his malady and shuns medicine and treatment. The Superior needs to have and to empldy nine "spices" (aromata) ; three of the mind, compassion, zeal, discretion; three of the tongue, restraint, eloquence and persuasiveness; three of the hand, chastity, pity, patience! He will find all the remedies he needs close to hand; the Jesuit Constitutions must be his 'pharmacy. In this pharmacy are to be found all the drugs he requires. And he must be guided by the principles of the Constitutions in curing his patients, above all by the great principle of opposition! Contraries to contraries! Humiliation to cure pride; silence .to cure talkativeness; work to cure idleness; watching to cure sloth; fasting to cure gluttony; isolation to cure criticism; in fine, the patient must be pulled in the direction opposite to that in which he is going! Such is the fundamental principle of Jesuit psycho-therapy.

In two respects Acquaviva forestalled Freud. He forestalled Freud's "golden rule" of telling all. He enacted that the patient must be coaxed into recounting in full the troubles of his soul to his Superior. Then he forestalled Freud's "transference." The sick Jesuit has to be persuaded that his Superior abounds in charity

'for him, so that love and trust (a "transference") may be secured. Acquaviva arms the Superior with all kinds of pious subterfuges and tactics of holy equivocation, wherewith he may win his patient's affection and confidence.

But there are other principles and methods of Jesuit psychotherapy that psycho-analysts would heartily repudiate; penances, punishments, humiliations, "caustic" admonitions, "terrorising threats," and denunciations to higher Superiors. In the course of describing the method of treatment prescribed by Acquaviva, in some of the maladies enumerated above, these elements will appear.

First of all, we shall describe the Jesuit method of dealing with the disease called "Absorption in external things"

The kind of Jesuit who becomes wholly engrossed in external affairs is one whom we should nowadays call an extrovert. His extroversion is for him an escape from the impossibility of facing continual asceticism. Subconsciously at least, he is defending himself against threatening depression and insanity. He feels, as so many Jesuits feel, that unless they "do something," "they will go mad." And he begins to engage in external activities without his Superior's full approval. Suddenly, his activities are interrupted and he is given "treatment," not at his own request, but because his Superior believes he needs it. There are two possible causes of the disease of "absorption" according to Acquaviva. The first is "a certain restlessness and mobility of nature"; the second "interior aridity which leads to a seeking of solace in other than spiritual things."

If the first cause is at work, however much the "patient" be held in and directed, there is little hope of his becoming "an interior man" unless, "through a very special grace, together with his own careful and strong self-control, and through frequent acts by which he represses himself." He is to be put at pious and useful works; frequently he must retire to his room to read devout books; he must recite the Psalms; examine his conscience, and altogether abstain from exterior things. He is to learn caution, humility, and self-contempt, by considering the various kinds of vices which occur in such as he; loquacity; curiosity; impatience; silly conversation; flattery; vanity; murmuring; criticising, and so forth.

Full of confusion, he must learn to be more obedient, mortified and more devoted to abject offices.

If "Absorption in external things" arises from aridity in prayer, occasions of going abroad are to be taken away from him. "He must abstain from all visiting, not for one .or two weeks alone, but for some months, so that he may grow, accustomed to remain at home, even though he be unwilling to do so." He must most faithfully obey the rule of not talking with externs unless with the permission of his Superior. He must practise frequent examination of conscience, "raising his mind to God and saying with confusion (cum confusione), in one breath, 'Behold, Lord, my humility and my labour.'" Twice a day he must read spiritual books. He must continually use the rosary, with sighs and compunction; and repeat without ceasing verses from Scripture which excite sorrow for sin. He must make the "Spiritual Exercises" for several days. He must resist his impetuosity, and understand that "unless he bring force to bear on himself and, as it werey bind himself with chains" he will not make progress. In fine, he must give himself wholly to-the most intense spirituality.

One wonders what the effect on the nerves of an extrovert would be if he adopted this uncompromising programme of repression of natural tendencies. It is certainly a "kill or cure" treatment.

The disease, "Love of Precedence and Dignity" is treated by public and private humiliations and penances; employment in abject offices; and enforced association with persons who are abhorrent to the patient. "Languor and Debility in Spirit" is treated by applying stimulating remedies (remedia stimulantia), such as the awakening of the fear of death and hell in the patient; according extra time for prayer and spiritual reading, together with a special short retreat at the end of whiph he is to renew his vows. Particular virtues and mortifications are also prescribed. The patient who is predisposed to sensuality, besides various penances, prayers, mortifications and so forth, must "when he meets externs or visits them beware of indulging in jokes, amusing stories, or in recounting and listening to novelties; and should such trivialities occur, he must interrupt with some pious conver-

sation."

From the point of view of studying the spirit of the Society of

Jesus, as manifested in its system of psycho-therapy, by far the most interesting chapter is that devoted to the treatment of those suffering, from "Temptations against the Institute and against rules which displease" This disease is "full of danger and very difficult to cure, especially in the older fathers." Those suffering from it "are wont most carefully to conceal it" except from such as they can contaminate with their ideas. It is only through inadvertence that they betray its presence.

That it should be considered a disease, to have critical views as regards the perfectly fallible laws of a religious Order, will strike ordinary people as very strange. All the more so will it appear extraordinary that this so-called disease should be regarded as a temptation (of the devil), when we recall that several of these Jesuit laws and constitutions had been criticised and condemned by various Popes. Nevertheless, since the Order was immovably fixed in its resolution to suffer no interference with its Constitutions, it regarded it as devilish in a subject to harbour critical thoughts about them. In the eyes of the Order this disease besides being deadly is contagious, and hence all its energies are mobilised in an effort to extirpate it.

"First of all therefore prayers are to be imposed upon the community as for one gravely and dangerously ill, before the treatment of the patient begins." Next, "this gravely and dangerously ill" free-thinker in the bosom of the Society must be induced to reveal his conscience with confidence to his Superior, and to manifest in what respects he is tempted against the Institute; whether his temptation is of long standing; what originated it; what increased it; to whom he communicated it; and so forth. If his difficulties are due to misunderstandings they are to be explained away, but if the difficulties are too great for the Superior to explain away, the latter is to send his "gravely and dangerously ill" subject and patient to the Provincial, who is supposed to be a specialist in all that concerns the Constitutions.

Hence we must now visualise this good but tempted Father, entering the presence of his Provincial, who has already been forewarned, and seating himself nervously before him, having first been embraced, with the kiss of charity (the amplexus).

Father Provincial now begins to question him in order to dis-

cover the gravity of his malady. Is it the diversity bf gracles in the Society that he disapproves of; or the deferring of profession; or the immense power of Superiors; or the manifestation of conscience; or the denunciation of defects and of other things by any one who knows of them outside confession? Next, the Provincial makes a spirited assault upon his patient (aggregiatur hominem), pointing out to him the gravity of his disease, so that he may realise that, unless he take great care, he will no longer enjoy peace in the Society, nay even will fail to persevere. "Bracing himself to his task, let him (the Provincial) first of all ask if he did not know about these Constitutions during his novitiate, and at his various renovations of vows?" No doubt the reply will be that he knew of these things but did not fully understand them, but that later on his eyes were opened and he perceived their meaning more clearly. The Provincial is then to point out the danger of having one's eyes "badly opened" (male apertos), as was the case with Adam and Eve. Prudence of the flesh gives to one's eyes an unholy vision, of which innocence happily deprives one. The carnal light of natural intelligence illumines differently from the light of the Holy Spirit. This carnal light must be cut off so that the Holy Light may be turned on. "The prudence of the flesh is death," as Saint Paul said.

Next, the sick man is to be shown that almost none of these things that he finds fault with in the Constitutions are new. They are taken from the holiest founders of Religious Orders and from the most ancient Fathers (antiquissimis patribus).

The fact that the Constitutions were enacted by General Congregations; examined by many fathers renowned for their learning and virtue; and confirmed by several Popes; is also to be pointed out, together with the fact that recently Sixtus V of happy memory had again instituted an examination of them at the hands of some theologians and very grave Cardinals, and had made no change whatever (nihil plane ille immutavit).

Here, we must intervene for a moment in this interesting interview, to query this statement, put in the mouth of the Provincial by Father General Acquaviva. Sixtus V, "of happy memory," had, as Fr. Campbell, S.J., states, 1 become convinced "that there .was 1 Hist., p. 213.

something radically wrong with the Society." Furthermore he had made a very fundamental change in one of the "essentials" of the Constitutions, namely the name of the Order. "One thing, however, Sixtus V insisted on" (ibid.} "and that was the change of the name, and he therefore ordered Acquaviva to send in a formal request to that effect. There was nothing to do but to submit and the Pope signed the brief." Acquaviva, however, was able to get this matter hushed up as Sixtus died immediately after. The "sick" Jesuit would, of course, not be supposed to know about such matters, even though they concerned the Constitutions. The fact that his vision gave him to see eye to eye with Popes did not gainsay the fact that his eyes were "badly opened."

Returning now to the interview,. we find Father Provincial setting himself to disperse the darkness of his patient's mind, and he does so by imputing low and selfish motives to him. '"The diversity of grades no doubt displeases you, because you wish to be a professed father and you are only a coadjutor! You want to hold fast to your secrets, and so you complain of manifestation of conscience? You dislike being denounced by others for your misdeeds because you hate to have your refutation lessened! At the back of your criticism of the Constitutions there Is moral evil."

Father Provincial does not lose his opportunity to refer to scandals in other Orders. "In other Orders where these Constitutions of Ours do not exist, there are very many exceedingly ill-content, and others openly apostatising."

The Provincial having sufficiently asserted his authority by insulting his "sick" patient, grows pious and reminds him of how the Blessed Virgin and the Angels witnessed his vow to live in the Society content with its rule, and intent on perfection. "If the trouble lies, as it may, in the way some Superiors have administered the Constitutions, such trouble can of course be eliminated without the Constitutions being changed. But, do Superiors govern ill? How is it that so many very grave and learned men praise the whole administration of the Order? How is it that they do not see the evils complained of? "Would you," asks Fr. Provincial, of his now utterly crushed patient, "if there were not question of some private interests of your own, be so prone to criticise? How

easily we are misled when we are judging in our own case and judging ourselves!"

Then Fr. Provincial considers it is time to bring the interview to a close. He concludes as follows: "Now, my dear Father, you are to make spiritual exercises and meditate very seriously on the benefits of your vocation and on your obligation to strive after perfection. "You are also to make a general confession. I am sure your difficulties will disappear. Things will not prove as bad as you suspect. You have allowed your imagination to aggravate your trouble. I will always be ready to explain things to you. Under no circumstances are you to communicate your doubts about the Constitutions to others. If you do so, or If you display any further Inquietude, I will at once inform Fr. General! Good-day."

Thus with a severe spiritual penance, and a terrifying threat of expulsion, for that is what "informing the General" implies, the sick man is dismissed! Such is the treatment meted out to those who are "tempted against the Constitutions"! It is no wonder that, as Acquaviva says, this disease Is especially difficult to cure In the older fathers! It is noticeable in the directions of Acquaviva that the sick man must be made to confess the source from which he derived his critical views of the Constitutions, and also the names of those with whom he discussed them. The object of such enquiries was, of course, to track down "evil influences" whether they were other Jesuits or books. It is noticeable also that the policy of Superiors is to refuse to admit the slightest imperfection in the Constitutions, and to put down all critical judgment as due to bad faith and wickedness. The sick man is hauled up for treatment as a result of denunciation; he is made use of by Superiors as a source of further information; and he is treated as a child, as one incapable of judging things for himself. A "cure" is expected from this mixture of dialectics, insults, threats, piety, penances and dishonest misstatements of facts!

From the modern standpoint one would say without hesitation that the Provincial was more in need of psycho-analysis than the "sick" Jesuit whose sickness consisted in his protest against precisely the kind of thing which we have just described.

"Disturbance of the Peace, and the Sowing of discords and

Jesuit Mind-Healing ;i6i

quarrels** is also a disease that, in the eyes of the Order, calls for strong medicine. Those infected are called "pests" and are informed that their disease encroaches on the borders of grave sin. "They must learn that it is no excuse that they did not cause trouble intentionally, and that they had no formal purpose of speaking ill of others or of the Society. From the nature of their remarks the same evils follow, no matter what their purpose may have been." They must confess their faults to the Superior and to the Spiritual Father; avoid the company of dangerous associates; and never discuss government in the Order. They may be publicly reprehended in the refectory before the whole community, and should be given penances and prayers of various kinds. "Over and above the ordinary syndici (series), certain hidden syndici are to be appointed with the object of reporting on this offence, in order that public penances and private admonitions may be imposed." Special Fathers are to be appointed to turn conversation critical of Superiors away from dangerous into healthy channels by warning speakers that "it is not safe to say such and such."

The Jesuit method for treating the disease called "Temptation against one's Superior" is interesting in as much as it explicitly recommends Machiavellian art.

A Jesuit Superior delights in, and as far as possible insists on, an attitude of childlike confidence, affection, and universal docility in all his subjects. He feels very hurt if he notices the absence of this attitude in any of his subjects. He may be personally a most unlovable, repulsive individual, but he claims in. virtue of his position as Christ's representative, unceasing love, devotion, and trust. He is always exceedingly sensitive to criticism or "independence" in his subjects. He p'rizes and rewards the clinging, cringing attitude of dependence, and looks upon such as display this attitude in a marked way as "the true offspring of the Society."

To distrust, dislike or criticise a Superior 'is therefore a "temptation of the devil" a scandal, and a grave sin. The Superior, in consequence, has to win back the subject's love and trust, no matter how badly he has hitherto treated him, and no matter how persistently he has dogged his steps with spies, and imputed evil motives to him.

When a Superior finds out that a subject is criticising him and

manifesting a dislike for him, his first step is to get the Spiritual Father, or the subject's Confessor, to admonish him. He may even call upon the Provincial to do so. For himself, if the subject comes to him, "he is to show that he does not know" what the subject has been doing or saying. He is to receive the subject "with a joyous face" (hilari fronte), and to coax him to manifest himself, for unless he does so peace is impossible! He is to discover the workings of the subject's mind and to persuade him that whatever he (the Superior) did in his regard was done out of charity.

"Let the Superior recount all that he has done for the subject, mentioning witnesses of this thing or that. Let him prove that the penances which he enjoined were only ordinary penances! If he made enquiries (through spies, syndici} or sought to find out anything about him it was because his conscience forced him to do so> in view of certain matters that had been reported about him, which although he did not readily believe, nevertheless he was obliged as a pastor to probe to the bottom. If it happened that he showed less trust in him than in others, not giving him this or that office, it was either because externs had asked for some one else by name, or because the duty was such as was not calculated to benefit him spiritually, or because Ours or externs took offence at his way of doing things."

The Superior next promises to show all kinds of trust and affection, and invites his subject to come for a longer chat! Each is to pray for the other—all is to be guided by love in the future. Love is not less active in punishing than in cherishing and praising. The Superior is to be exceedingly amiable and to avoid arguments. Later on when the fever of dislike grows less in the subject he is to be warned about his more grave faults. Above all, the Superior is to secure that the subject come more often to him, being convinced that he is regarded by the Superior as his -most dear child. He is to give the subject little offices; preaching, exhorting Nuns, and some small missions to Prelates and suchlike; but he must avoid endangering the work or the reputation of the Society. Needless to say, unless in the case of an absolute simpleton, the subject sees through the pretended love and confidence thus displayed. He sees in it a foolish and insincere effort at make-believe, and at the artificial production of an impossible emotional response. "Last of all the

Superior is to try everything through himself and others suitable for the work, to allay the subject's suspicions, and to awaken in him the recognition of his (the Superior's) love, for unless this is done no kind of medicine will be of any profit."

Such is the spiritual Machiavellianism of the Jesuit mind-healer!

The psycho-therapy of the Order has among other characteristics two especially noticeable: the handing out of prayer-books and the flourishing of the big stick. The interest of the patient is quite obviously subordinated to that of the Order; and one remarks a distinct tendency to regard those "maladies" as particularly grave and dangerous that threaten to embarrass the Order. Two of the "maladies," and two only, are called "temptations" thereby emphasising their diabolical character. These two are, as we should suspect, the diseases which consist in thinking ill of the Constitutions, and in thinking distrustfully of Superiors ("Tentatio contra Insti-tutum" ; "Tentatio contra Suferiorem"}.

Although many of the "maladies" are, as we have said, founded in neurotic conditions, only on one occasion, I think, is there a suggestion that the patient should be allowed more exercise, and more sleep, as well as additional delicacies at table, but these exemptions are to be coaxed back from the patient "after a few days" One must conclude that the Order thought it better to let the patient rot in his malady than to upset "common life." Of course this inhumanity is not, and probably never was, enforced to any great extent, but the important point is that it is the official doctrine of the Order—it shows "the Mind of the Order." One wonders why there is only one vague reference in the "Industrial" to the innumerable eccentricities, delusions, phobias, and hysterias that must have been as rampant in the Society' in the days of Acquaviva as they are to-day. Probably they were all lumped together under the heading "movements of the spirits," and considered to have been sufficiently dealt with by Ignatius in his rules for the "discernment of Spirits," as laid down in the Spiritual Exercises. Anyhow Acquaviva has nothing to say about them.

Like so much else in the Jesuit Order, the "Industrial," together with all its precepts and methods, is a sham and a pretence. Were it not so it would not have been published for Superiors and Subjects

alike. The publication beforehand of all that the Subject and Superior are going to say and do, and the description of the strategy that the latter is going to employ in order to surprise the former into a cure, deprives the document of any value it could possibly have as a method of treatment. Not one Superior in a hundred studies it seriously, and if he does so, it is probably only with a view to finding appropriate Latin phrases with which to describe, in a letter to the General, the vices of members of his community. One wonders if the works of Freud will in days to come serve a like purpose, and if budding writers will skim his pages with the sole purpose of finding words to describe more graphically the sexual abnormalities of characters they are analysing.

CHAPTER VHI

JESUIT EDUCATION

THE Jesuit General Visconti, writing in July, 1752, stated: "the fact cannot be hidden that, for a long time there were scarcely any Latin schools except Ours, or at any rate so few that the parents were obliged against their will to send their children to us. But now there are in many places many schools which rival Ours and there is danger that they may be strengthened while the numbers in Ours decrease and their reputation wanes."

Over two hundred years had passed since Ignatius initiated the great Jesuit educational campaign. When this campaign opened higher education was confined to the fifty great Universities of Europe, at each of which immense numbers of boys and young men were thrown together in considerable disorder. They had to study amid much hardship and danger to health and morals. At Paris, there were, for instance, some 40,000 students, spread among its fifty colleges. At Oxford there were 30,000. Heresy flourished at these centres, and there was little discipline save in the monastic colleges affiliated to the Universities. Pious Catholics were terrified at the thought of sending their sons to study at hot-beds of vice, such as Padua, Paris or Louvain, and they eagerly supported Ignatius' enterprise when he began' to open colleges and Universities that rivalled the older ones in learning and surpassed them infinitely in discipline.

Before Ignatius died there were thirty-five Jesuit colleges, and within two hundred years this number had grown to seven hundred and fifty, scattered through the world and educating, at a conservative estimate, a quarter of a million students. Meanwhile, in 1599, the famous Jesuit Ratio, or educational method, had been perfected, and published in its final form. It was built upon "those principles of sane pedagogy soberly laid down by Ignatius in the fourth part of his Constitutions."

"Partly in themselves," wrote Francis Bacon, 1 "and partly by the emulation and provocation of their example, the Jesuits have much quickened the state of learning." And Leopold von Ranke confessed 2 that "it was found that young people (in those days) 'gained more with the Jesuits in six months than with other teachers in two years."

We have, however, to turn to a recent Jesuit writer on education, Fr. T. Hughes, S.J., for a graphic account of Jesuit educational successes. 8 "In a short official career of sixteen years," writes Fr. Hughes, "Ignatius had the gratification of seeing a new and vast educational policy crowned with success. In spite of the active opposition which powerful interests in Rome and elsewhere led against him . . . thanks to the labour of Ignatius, the monopoly of education was broken down; the old Universities were no longer either the sole depositories of superior instruction or the arbiters of the intellectual life of Europe; and all the best learning which the most accomplished men could impart, was now being given gratuitously. . . . And whereas it is put down to the credit of Germany, that sixteen of the old Universities had risen on its soil, now in the German Assistancy of the Society there arose more than sixteen Jesuit Universities, besides 200 colleges. And in virtue of papal charters, it was already an accomplished fact, that all the powers of Universities, with regard to the degrees of Bachelor, Master, Licentiate, and Doctor were vested in the Head of the Order, who could delegate the same to subordinate Superiors. No wonder all the faculties of Christendom considered the Order an intruder and aggressor. It might be considered so to-day. Free and universal education was at the door of all. . . . We shall have to wait a few centuries more, even beyond the nineteenth century, before we come to such education given universally and given gratuitously."

The Universities of Paris, Louvain, and Salamanca certainly did not open their arms to welcome the newcomers in the educational field. They showed resentment against the "gratuitous system of

1 Advancement of Learning.

2 Hist, of Papacy, I, V, 3.

3 Loyola and the Educational System of the Jesuits, Heinemann, 1904, p. 118.

education," which as we shall see was gratuitous in appearance rather than in reality; and they heartily disliked the air of superiority that the new teachers assumed. This "air of superiority" will be apparent to any one who turns over the pages of the "preliminary Ratio." * "Whatever is the custom in other Universities," it says, "our method is very different from theirs, so that no less progress can be made in our schools during four years than in others during five; because our Professors are for the most fart more laborious', we have more numerous exercises; our Society , as standing in need of -many workmen, requires that perfection of science which Is necessary for Its members, not that otiose method of others; who, having no motive of this kind to make them expeditious divide up into many lectures what could well be treated in fewer."

In order to estimate the cause of the success of Ignatius' educational enterprise we must bear in mind not only the novelty of the idea, and the reputation of the Jesuits, but also the dire necessities of Catholicism. Heresy was making enormous strides in northern Europe owing in great part to the ignorance and vicious morals of the clergy. Erasmus, writing to a friend in 1521, stated: "The corruption of the Church, the degeneracy of the Holy See are universally admitted. Reform has been loudly asked for and I doubt whether in the whole history of Christianity the heads of the Church have been so grossly worldly as the present moment." The only hope for the Church was the setting up of thoroughly orthodox schools, where Catholicism would be taught as well as good morals. This was the crying need of the times as far as Catholics were concerned, and it was precisely this need that Ignatius set himself to supply. He furnished himself with full papal approval of his project, and he found little difficulty in inducing rich and pious Catholic nobles to finance his scheme.

Ignatius would only undertake to open colleges when abundant funds were forthcoming and when the sites chosen suited him in every way. He preferred to settle in large cities, "leaving the valleys for St. Bernard's monks; the mountains for the Benedictines; and the towns for the Franciscans."

"Bernardus valles, montes Benedictus amabat,

Oppida Franciscus, magnas Ignatius urbes." 4 Cf, Hughes, p. 232.

As Fr. Orlandini, the Jesuit historian, tells us, "Ignatius preferred to refuse Princes and Bishops their requests (to found colleges), excusing himself on the score of limited resources, than to compromise the reputation of the Society by ill-advised consent." He would only undertake to found a college on his own terms* These terms were in brief a good site; a populous and important locality; an abundant foundation without any conditions attached, sufficient not only for the running of the college but for its future development, as well as the maintenance and training of a large number of young Jesuits destined to continue the work of the college.

Ignatius and his followers believed in the value of advertisement. They opened their colleges with great pomp and splendour, and renewed at stated intervals the impression thus formed by ostentatious displays of learning before distinguished audiences gathered together for the purpose. At the opening of the Jesuit college at Munich in 1576, for instance, we read that "the students, dressed in Roman costumes acted a play entitled 'Constantine/ and after the performance was over, forty of them, clad in steel armour, accompanied the 'Imperator' on horseback through the town, as he rode in triumph in a Roman Quadriga." 5

On "Academy Days" prizes were distributed amid music and applause, in the presence of all the grandees that could be induced to be present. The Prefect of Studies, 6 had to see to it that "the ceremonies be conducted with exceptional solemnity, and with as large an attendance as possible of our own members and men of learning and high position from other quarters. . . . On the day appointed the names of winners are to be publicly announced with all manner of pomp and before a numerous audience. The prizes are then to be handed to the winners amid applause and the sound of music."

There was nothing particularly original in the Jesuit method of teaching. Old methods were adopted, and applied. There was, however, a better arrangement of classes, and a more exact system of gradation. "Elsewhere," wrote Fr. Ribadeneira, Ignatius' friend, "one Professor has many grades of scholars before him; he addresses himself at one and the same time to scholars who are at the

B Die Jesuiten in Baiern, 1874, Kluckholn.

6 Cf. Ratio, rule 12. •

ERASMUS, WHO TESTIFIED TO THE CORRUPTION OP THE CHURCH ON THE EVE OF THE FOUNDATION OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

bottom, midway, and at the top; and he can scarcely meet the demands of each. But, in the Society, we distinguish one rank of scholars from another, dividing them into their own classes and orders, and separate professors are placed over each." The Jesuits relied on the scholastic method of teaching; definite bits of knowledge were explained, proved, criticised, repeated, disputed, and learned by heart. They also followed the teaching traditions of Paris and Louyain, and of the Strassburg School of Johann Sturm. "The earlier Jesuits" wrote a recent General, 7 "did not invent new methods of teaching but adapted, the best methods of their age" Very wisely, however, Ignatius decided to support the humanistic trends in culture, and emphasised the teaching of the classics and Hebrew. Latin, above all, became the forte of the Society, and to this day in the Society it is considered a moral weakness, or at least a disedifying imperfection, to be without fluency in Latin writing and speaking.

Fr. Hughes, whom we have already quoted as a modern Jesuit authority, thus admits the indebtedness of the Society to older educational methods.'* "The old University system of mediaeval Europe, particularly that of Paris, can look down from its silent and solemn place in history as the direct progenitor of the 'Ratio Studiorum.' 'We, too, have been taught by others,' said Fr. Possevino, S.J., in 1592. Indeed, as is evident, the last thing which the system seems to dream of, which never in fact crossed the path of its vision, is that it is playing the role, perchance, of a pedagogic adventurer or courting notice by some new and striking departure.

No doubt in its integrity it is singularly the system of the Jesuits, and in a multitude of practical elements it embodies the elaborate experience of one practical organisation of men. But, none the less, if we look down for its foundations, we pass through the Renaissance of letters, and find the traditions of Scholastic Europe; and further down still in the stratification of .history, we come to the principles of education as defined by Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates."

Since 1599 there has been little change or modification in the "Ratio." It is now a little less intolerant of the study of the vernacular and slightly more attentive to the demands of physical sci-

7 Fr. Wernz, in 1910. « Cf. p. 285.

ence, but as the Jesuit General Roothan wrote in 1832, "the study of Latin and Greek must always remain intact and be the chief object of attention" And Fr. Hughes admits that "the modifications of the old Ratio have been few." The educational systems of the world have gone ahead, developing, evolving, progressing, but the Jesuit system has remained unchanged and unchangeable!

The Fourth Part of the Jesuit Constitutions which has to do with studies, and is the basis of the "Ratio," has chiefly in mind the studies of Jesuit recruits. It considers the needs of the Society, and the mental training of its future members. And, indeed, it is a fair and fundamental criticism of the "Ratio," that it was primarily designed for the training of Jesuits, and subsequently adapted to some extent to the educational needs of layboys. Jesuit education is avowedly directed to apostolic ends. "Sciences are to be taught in such a way that our fellow creatures may by them be aroused to the knowledge and love of our Creator and Redeemer." Polanco, Ignatius' secretary, writing to the Duke of Bavaria, in 1551, said: "Jesuits must begin by undertaking preparatory teaching with professors capable of inspiring their young students little by little with a love of theology" Learning for learning's sake was in no sense the purpose of Jesuit colleges. Nor was it in the mind of Jesuit educators to seek to discover new truths or to open up new sciences. What they aimed at was to teach old and certain truths and to form the minds of their scholars to orthodox thinking. "The training of the mind" was the great boast of Jesuit educators, but the training they gave was in docility and not originality of intellect. It was a training of the will rather than of the mind; a training in religion rather than in the analysis of ideas.

Furthermore Ignatius avowedly undertook the Working of colleges in order that a supply of suitable subjects might be attracted to the Society. He found before long that his original idea of, filling his ranks with already trained and scholarly men was impracticable, and that the only source of getting a sufficiency of recruits was through the colleges and the Universities. The self-interest of the Order in educational enterprise is also betrayed in the manner in which it utilised colleges founded for the education of the laity in educating young Jesuits. We read, in the Rules of Rectors of Houses of Studies: "The Society of Jesus undertakes the manage-

ment of schools and Universities in order that our own members may be conveniently instructed in knowledge and in all that is profitable to the welfare of souls y and may be able to communicate to others what they themselves have learnt"

In the form drawn up by Lainez, Ignatius' successor, "Latin Schools" should be able to support twenty Jesuits; Lyceums, fifty Jesuits; and Universities, seventy Jesuits. Twenty-four years later Acquaviva raised these figures to almost double the number. The foundation had to suffice for the provision of the actual professors; an adequate supply of lay-brothers; several substitute professors; besides being ample enough to provide for the formation of Jesuits to take the places of the actual professors.

Turning now to the scheme of studies laid down by the "Ratio" in 1599. ^ deals with (i) a literary curriculum, (2) a philosophical, (3) a theological curriculum 1 .

(1) The literary curriculum was adapted to five classes, which were sometimes sub-divided. There was a Lower Grammar, a Middle Grammar, and an Upper Grammar, followed by Poetry, and, highest of all, Rhetoric. In Lower Grammar, Syntax, Rudiments, Greek Grammar, and as authors, Nepos, Cicero, and Phae-drus, were studied; while history, geography and the elements of mathematics were to be taught with the other subjects. Middle and Upper Grammar went further with the same subjects, and more difficult authors were studied. In Lower Grammar the daily lesson was four lines of a Latin author; and in Middle Grammar seven. Slow but sure progress was aimed at, and foundations were thoroughly laid.

In Poetry, Latin and Greek versification was taught, and also dialectics. Homer, Plato, Virgil, and Horace, were read but always in expurgated editions. In Rhetoric, oratorical as well as poetical style was taught, and Demosthenes and Thucydides were read as well as Pindar. The Greek fathers were also read in Poetry and Rhetoric; Chrysostom and Basil in particular.

(2) The Philosophical Curriculum covered three years.

First Year—Logic, General Metaphysics, and Mathematics (6

hours weekly). Second Year—Cosmology, Psychology, Natural Theology, with

Physics (9 hours weekly) and Chemistry (3 hours weekly).

Third Year—Metaphysics and Moral Philosophy, with Mathematics (3 hours weekly), and Physics (2 hours weekly).

(3) The Theological Curriculum covered four years.

Dogmatic theology continued all the time, while during two years the following branches of Theology were studied; Moral, Canon Law, Ecclesiastical History, and Sacred Scripture. Hebrew was studied during one year.

It would be hardly worth while to enter into all the details and secondary characteristics of the "Ratio." It emphasises as we have seen the classics, and proposes a great many methods for awakening enthusiasm in this study. History, Geography, and Mathematics are relegated to very secondary positions. The vernacular was distinctly snubbed in the old "Ratio," and even in its amended form in 1832, there is only a grudging acknowledgment of the importance of the vernacular. Sciences are not mentioned, save physics, geometry and astronomy, and the minimum of attention was paid to them. No prizes were given in any subjects save in classics, and when the students were called upon to give "specimens of their studies," they always recited bits of Greek or Latin. There were* many devices employed by Masters for stirring up rivalry and emulation by arranging contests between sections of their classes, and also by arranging displays of various kinds.

The custom in the Jesuit colleges was for Masters to go up with their classes. The master of Lower Grammar would at the end of the year take his class up to Middle Grammar, and so on to Upper Grammar and Poetry. This custom is referred to quaintly enough in the 2Qth Rule of the Provincial. "Care should be taken to let our scholars begin their work as teachers in a class to which they are superior in knowledge, so that they may be able to pass on yearly with a large proportion of their pupils to a higher division."

This rule that young Jesuit teachers should "begin their work in a class to which they are superior in knowledge" is a sensible one, but unfortunately it is not always observed in the Society. Jesuit Scholastics are frequently appointed to teach subjects about which they know absolutely nothing and usually they are too immature to understand anything about "training the minds" of the students under them, although such training is supposed to be the essential merit of the Ratio. "The characteristics of the Ratio Studiorum,"

wrote Fr. Martin, the Jesuit General, in 1892, "are not to be sought in the subject matter nor in the order and succession in which the different branches are taught, but rather in what may be called the 'form' or spirit of the system. This form or spirit consists chiefly in the training of the mind (efformatio ingenii), which is the object, and in the various exercises which are the means of attaining the object."

In Jesuit colleges there existed literary academies, but the membership was restricted to those who on account of their special piety were "Sodalists," that is, members of the Congregation of the Blessed Virgin. Plays too were acted from time to time by the boys, but the principal parts, if we are to believe Fr. Cordara, S.J., were reserved for the sons of the nobility. For there has ever been a good deal of snobbery, both religious and social, about Jesuit colleges. Unless pious you were considered ineligible for some things; unless blue blood flowed in your veins you were considered unfit for other things. The Prefect of the Gymnasium * had "to assign more comfortable seats to aristocratic pvpils" and we read in a "Tracta-tus de Magisterio," that "pupils from noble families in 'particular must not be caned except for some very serious reason"

Punishment given in Jesuit colleges was inflicted by an official specially employed for the purpose, for it was considered improper for a Jesuit to inflict corporal penalties. This rule soon fell into abeyance. When I was a boy at Clongowes, and afterwards when I was on the teaching staff as a Jesuit, Jesuit Prefects plied strap and cane fast and furious. Sometimes boys were given as many as forty vigorous cuts with a hard leather strap. "Twice nine," however, was the usual limit, or rather "twice nine hard."

The modern method is doubtless preferable to that laid down in the "Ratio," and it saves the Jesuit Superior the expense of paying an outside official. It is also less degrading for boys to be whipped by their own teachers and prefects, than by college servants.

When Rhetoric was finished, Jesuit students, lay and clerical alike, began their philosophy. This course meant the close study of the physics and metaphysics of Aristotle during three years. The temptation to encroach on these studies, with a view to finding more

°Cf. Rule No. 29.

time for science, was sternly opposed by the authorities of the Order. Thus, as late even as 1883, the General Congregation decreed:

"Care must, be taken not to interfere with the Ratio Studiorum of the Society, nor must any departure be allowed from the prescribed three years' course of philosophy, for the benefit of Mathematics or Natural Science."

The courses of philosophy now given in the Society are no longer followed by any save Jesuits and ecclesiastics, but for that reason the "Ratio" has suffered all the less change. Scholasticism holds the field. Very little is made of modern philosophy, and even such thinkers as Kant, Leibnitz, Spinosa, Hegel, or Nietzsche are dismissed, refuted, by a few syllogisms. They are neither understood, explained nor praised. It is against the rules of a Teacher of Philosophy to praise unorthodox philosophers. His sixth rule reads: "If anything good in them has to be mentioned the Teacher of Philosophy must do so without any words of praise, and if possible he must show that It is derived from some other source"

The philosophy of Aristotle is frankly chosen because it is most consonant with Scholastic theology. In 1883, ^ Q General Congregation declared: 10

"Since the Society of Jesus has decreed the utility of the 'philosophy of Aristotle for the ends of theology y we are to adhere to it in accordance with the regulations laid down in the Statutes, and in the scheme of studies; and this, not only in logic and metaphysics, but also in Natural Philosophy, from which Aristotle's teaching as to the nature and composition of natural bodies must not be omitted. // the Provincial Superiors discover that modernisers deviate from this philosophy either openly or under specious pretences, and attempt to put other views in their place, they are to be deprived of their teaching office"

It is reiterated in various places that philosophy is to be regarded as the hand-maid of theology. Thus, the Third General Congregation decreed: "The professors of philosophy are to teach philosophy in such a manner that it be the hand-maid and servant of Scholastic theology which is commended to us by our Constitutions" Again and again Superiors are reminded that Professors of Philosophy who are "disposed towards innovations of free thinking" are to be re-l » 36th Decree.

moved from office. 11 "Since novelty or difference of opinion may not only hinder the very aim which the Society has set before itself to the greater glory of God, but also cause the very existence of the Society to totter, it is necessary to check by definite legislation in all possible ways intellectual licence (licentiam ingeniorum) y in the introduction and pursuit of such opinions."

It is obvious from decrees and rules such as those quoted above that the Society did not aim at discovering new truths, but was content to leave things as they were, "to leave well enough alone." It did not conceal its suspicion and fear of progressive and independent-minded Jesuits, nor did it relish the thought that they might stimulate the younger men to think for themselves. It preferred to appoint docile-minded nonentities to its chairs of philosophy, and to relegate the others to posts where they could do no harm. "For the attainment of this end," vvrote Acquaviva, in one of his instructions, "it will be of great assistance if by means of careful selection only those are admitted to teach 'philosophy and theology . . . whose obedience and submissi<ueness are evident; and that all those who are not so disposed ... be removed from the teaching office and utilised in other operations."

If one's attitude towards philosophy is taken as the criterion of one's intellectual sincerity, what is to be thought of the intellectual sincerity of the Jesuit Order?

The same spirit of coercion of thought prevails in Jesuit theology as in Jesuit philosophy, and also the same remoteness from modern ways of thinking. A firmly closed system is presented to the student. He must swallow all, whether he understands it or not; whether he believes in its utility or not. Only one department of Jesuit theology makes any attempt to keep up to date. That department, moral theology, has to do with solving "cases of conscience," and preparing the priest for the confessional.

In order to be ready to answer difficulties that the faithful are sure to present to him, the priest has to learn how to apply principles of morals to birth-control, divorce, gambling, boot-legging, jazz-dancing, and so forth. Above all he has to be a kind of specialist in sex matters, and he has ample opportunity for studying all kinds of sex sins and perversions in works like those of the Jesuit moralist

11 Cf. 54th Rule of the Provincial.

Sanchez, whose writings would bring blushes to the cheeks of Freud. Jesuit students enjoy moral theology, and delight to set cases for one another to solve. These cases are set in Latin and solved in Latin, but the Latinity does not completely cover the salacity. When the time comes during the first or second year of theology for setting cases "De Sexto" (about the Sixth Commandment), one hears all round one, all day long, Jesuits spinning out yarns of their abominable (imaginary) crimes, and seeking for solutions. "Habui rem cum puella et . . ." (I made illicit love to a girl and . . .) Then, the tale winds up with a "Quid faciendum, Pater" (What am I to do, Father?). Needless to say there is much entertainment

to be had during this part of Jesuit theology.

• • • . . • •

While studying philosophy at Louvain, as a Jesuit, in the Jesuit house at Rue des Recollets, I had as professor of philosophy, a tall, handsome Luxemburgeois, Fr. S. He was exceedingly brilliant, but most erratic and absent-minded. Having almost killed himself by smoking, he had suddenly abandoned his pipe for a snuff-box, and when I knew him he was apparently experimenting to see if snuff could kill as surely as tobacco. Fr. S. was a martyr to indigestion ; appallingly lazy; the speediest and most interminable talker I ever listened to; but full of humour and a brilliant metaphysician. He ignored rules of all kinds; lectured in French instead of in Latin as he was supposed to do; and told very risque stories in class from time to time, in order to shock his more pious students. He was, of course, "in trouble." His vows had been postponed as a punishment. His crime was a most unusual one in the Order. We all knew full well what it was. It was a passionate devotion to Immanuel Kant. Fr. S. loved and reverenced Kant! "Le Vieux," he called him affectionately. "The Old Devil!" In every lecture he paid tribute to Kant. Nothing ever annoyed him so much as a stupid criticism of Kant's philosophy. He admired Aquinas, too, almost as much as Kant, and he delighted to show how closely kindred were the master-thoughts of each.

Looking back on those days, I cannot understand how Fr. S. was allowed to retain his chair of philosophy. It was, of course, a kind of blasphemy in the Society to praise Kant. It was a sin to read him. It was playing with fire to think his thoughts. All the

other professors were furiously hostile to Kant, but they did not dislike Fr. S. He was so utterly erratic and lovable that it was impossible for them to be angry with him. Still his vows were postponed and he was kept in disgrace.

Then, it was, I think, in 1910, news came that the Jesuit General was sending a Visitator to Louvain, and Fr. S. knew that his fate would be sealed for weal or woe. The Visitator was Fr. Ledochowski, the present General of the Order, a dry, dark, foxy little man, with piercing eyes, and a nervous, restless manner. At that time he had the name of being very broad and enterprising. He was of noble Polish stock, and had much influence at Rome.

Fr. S. knew that if he could make a good impression on the little Pole, he would, of course, get his vows, and that would be a victory not only for himself but also for "le Vieux." If he could prove that he was orthodox all would be well, but how could he prove that he was orthodox? He resolved to do his best.

He looked round his room. It was in terrible disorder. Every edition of Kant that was to be found in Louvain was in his room, while a picture of the wicked heretic hung on his wall. He collected all his "Kants" and hid them under his bed. He went to the library and carried a few armfuls of Aquinas to his room and placed them on his shelves. He next obtained an oleograph of the "Angelic Doctor" (Aquinas), and hung it over Immanuel's grim face. Then he felt ready for Ledochowski's visit.

What transpired during the famous interview between Fr. S. and the present General none ever knew for certain. Some said that Fr. S. convinced him that Kant was a scholastic. Some say that he gave him a new insight into Aquinas. Whatever happened, to our delight, Fr. S. got his vows, and as soon as Ledochowski left the "Angelic Doctor" and his works were removed from S's room, and "le Vieux" was enthroned once more. (N. B.—The sequel was sad, if the news I heard be true. A few years ago Fr. S. was ordered to write out his lectures in full, and submit them to the Censors of the Society. This, of course, placed him in a hopeless position. He couldn't do if:, and so was removed from his chair of philosophy.)

• ••••••

Before offering some remarks by way of criticism of Jesuit edu-

cational methods I feel it right to record the extent of my acquaintance with Jesuit colleges, both as student and teacher.

As a boy I spent six years at the Jesuit College, Clongowes Wood, in Ireland. Afterwards, during two years, I had some acquaintance with Jesuit University education in Dublin. While in the Order I had one year of Jesuit humanities; three years of Jesuit philosophy and four years of Jesuit theology. As a Jesuit I taught for three years at Clongowes; two years at Mungret College; one year at Galway college, and also for one year at Georgetown University. I have also visited and dwelt in a great number of other Jesuit Colleges, and innumerable times I have discussed every phase of Jesuit education with Jesuits. I feel, therefore, that I have had ample experience to form an opinion on the matter of Jesuit Education.

In the first place, as regards the "Ratio" itself, It should be more widely known that, afart from the courses of 'philosophy and theology , in the Order and for the Order, in English sneaking countries, the "Ratio" is absolutely dead. It died long.since of neglect and old age. Of the twenty-four Jesuit masters under whom I studied at Clongowes, only one had any knowledge of the "Ratio"! And only in a few insignificant details did he try to conform to it. None of the rest were in the least concerned about it. As regards myself, although I acted, while a Jesuit, as Dean in one Jesuit college for a while, and as Sub-dean in another, I had never read the "Ratio"!

In the second place, it should be more widely known that the Jesuits have no official method of teaching to replace the "Ratio." They get no training in teaching, and everything is absolutely haphazard. How they manage to maintain the astounding pretence of having a Jesuit method passes my comprehension. Jesuit teachers for the most part not only have no training in how to teach, but they have no exact knowledge, certainly no expert knowledge, of the subjects they are supposed to teach. Usually they do not know what they shall be appointed to teach until a few days before the school term begins.

In order to understand the inherent weakness of Jesuit education we must take into consideration the mind of the Society. The Society insists on making every scholastic teach, whether he is fit for

the work or not, and whether he likes the work or not. It regards the College as a training ground for its young members. It does not consider it unfair to the boys in the college, or unjust to their parents who are paying high fees, to set its scholastics to experiment on the boys, to do their apprenticeship at the boys' expense.

Caraffa, the Jesuit General, wrote, 12 in 1646, to the Bohemian Provincial, and his instruction is still obeyed in the Society. "Our Very Reverend Father bids and commands me, as our Society does not assign any definite period for instruction in the lower schools, to employ for this 'purpose all without distinction, and particularly those who detest this occupation" It is hard to conceive anything more unfair to the pupils than to put over them as teachers men who detest the work of teaching. It is, however a very common practice in the Order. I have known many Jesuits who implored their Superiors to release them from the work of teaching on the grounds that they had no natural aptitude for this work, and that they hated it. But such requests were always refused. It is very rare in the Order to come across a Jesuit who likes teaching and who has the "professional spirit." Most of them are counting the days till their teaching term is over, and they regard their, teaching period as damnatio ad bestias, being thrown to the beasts. Superiors, of course, consult the convenience of the Order, rather than the good of the boys in their colleges. The convenience of the Order makes them send all scholastics, no matter what their gifts or tastes, to supply empty places on the teaching staffs of their colleges, and incidentally to complete their training.

Fr. Cornova, the Jesuit educationalist, discusses this matter, very fairly. 18 "The rule that all Jesuits without exception must spend some time in the instruction of youth is incidentally open to objection. Not every one is suited for the work of teaching. . . .Of course it was an advantage to the Order itself, for their work of teaching served as a school of morals for the young Jesuits, since men never exercise more control over themselves than when they are compelled to control others. Still, even the advantage accruing to the Order did not exempt it from the obligation incurred by taking over the public schools, to do the best in its 'power for the

12 Through his Secretary.

lz Die Jesuiten als Gymnasiallehern. Prague, 1804, p. 94.

young -people entrusted to Its care. In reality it should have been right to exempt from teaching all those who had no capacity for this occupation."

I may remark incidentally that while I was at Clongowes the boys were constantly complaining of the wretchedness of their teachers. Those who by good fortune had even one good teacher were very proud of the fact, and used make a boast of it. Looking back over my personal experience of about forty Jesuit teachers that I have had, in lower and higher studies, Irish, English, Belgian, French, and of other nationalities, only about five per cent were really competent to teach. Most of them were extremely bad teachers.

There is an unpublished report of a certain Jesuit Father, Jacob Pontan (Spanmuller), one of the German Jesuit Commissioners, appointed to prepare the "Ratio," which is a very terrible indictment of Jesuit education. 1 * I shall quote from it a passage which was doubtless true of the Society in the days when he wrote it, and which is certainly true of it still, if what he says of Greek and Latin be understood of the subjects now taught in Jesuit schools.

"The masters are frequently without ability; they waste time; they only study when and as much as they please; and they do not want to continue teaching any length of time. And even if any of them would like to progress and continue the work of teaching they are sent away, and new teachers are introduced every year. . . . Superiors have no great zeal for study. Nor is this surprising. They themselves have received the same instruction as our scholastics now receive. Their study of Greek is cursory. As for Latin their lips have scarce come near it. And yet it is they who have to decide on the subject and manner of teaching, and to judge of the teachers, their ability and progress. A great deal is left to the Prefects, who are themselves too uncultivated to preside over the schools or direct and improve the teachers. But as even the Superiors lack this knowledge, the Prefects of Study certainly cannot excel, since they are scholastics who have been removed from their studies prematurely. . . . Since the teachers do not, as the Rule prescribes, stand a stage above their class . . . what prospect can

14 Cf. Hoensbroech, Vol. I, pp. 190, 191.

there be of keeping pace with the schools outside the Order? . . . Inadequately instructed scholastics become incapable teachers. They produce unlearned Superiors, ignorant of all humanistic knowledge, not a few of whom cannot even write a grammatical letter; as well as unlearned Prefects of Study; and all in our Society who lack learning, and these are a countless number, owe their defect to these two causes. . . . The Rector and Prefect of Studies are not greatly concerned about the manner of teaching. They do not correct those who make mistakes, nor encourage any one to adopt the right methods. . . . And while we drift along carelessly and continue to have every year, fresh teachers and pupils, our schools are getting worse and worse. Before the masters have learned to teach they receive their orders to stop. What respect, and what experience can such teachers have? Why are we not ashamed of our folly? There is no city that changes its executioner or hangman once a year, and we believe that this constant fluctuation is good for study!"

In 1770, Count Pergen wrote to Marie Therese, apropos of the state of Jesuit education in Austria. "Experience has shown that Jesuits were never willing to depart from antiquated methods only endurable at best at the time of their origin, nor from their old text-books and their narrow circle of instruction. Even if in recent times instructions from the Government that could not be evaded, or the greater enlightenment of the age, and the irresistible example of other countries, have impelled them against their will to this or that reform it was only an apparent and therefore incomplete improvement, which bears only too evident testimony to the lack of understanding how to penetrate to the root of the evil, and the injury done to their system and Constitution by any such innova-

tion."

It was not merely the spirit of reaction that was the cause of decay in Jesuit education, even in the great days of the Order, but it was the laziness and ignorance of the Jesuits themselves. We have countless testimonies to this depreciation of scholarship in the Order. Oliva, the Jesuit General, wrote, in 1680, to the Provincial of Bohemia:

"Every effort must be made to raise the standard of humanistic studies (in the Order), for I know not how it has come about that those who can preserve and strengthen the reputation the Society

once enjoyed in this respect are now so few among you." In 'a draft of the "Ratio" we find: "It is a matter of universal complaint that humanistic studies have for the most part fallen into decay among our members so that nothing is more difficult to find than a good grammarian, rhetorician or humanist. . . . The confessors, too, are in trouble and difficulty when they have to hear a confession in Latin and they can scarcely understand the homilies of the fathers and the lessons of the breviary." 1B

At the time no doubt the Jesuits were so preoccupied with contemplating the spectacle of their own greatness and achievements, that they had little time for study, or else considered study superfluous. Fr. Streicher, S.J., in his Diary of an Indian Journey^ speaking of his Spanish brother Jesuits, says: "It seems very probable that many of them do not understand the mass, and certainly not the breviary." From my own experience, I can add, that although at present things in the Order are not quite so bad in this respect, there are still very many Jesuit fathers whose knowledge of Latin is exceedingly limited, and whose general culture is confined to knowledge of current events as described in newspapers. The Jesuits, as Fr. Tyrrell said, were never, in spite of their reputation, a learned Order.

One of the many serious criticisms of Jesuit education has been their neglect of the vernacular. In the Provincial's Rules, 16 we find: "Even greater caution must be observed in regard to national writers where they have to be read in school. They must be very carefully selected, and no author should be read or praised whose works the pupils cannot admire without risk to their morals and faith." But even the Masters are restricted in their study of vernacular literature. "The younger Masters should be on their guard against indulging too much in the reading of vernacular authors, especially the poets, to the loss of time and perhaps to the prejudice of virtue." 1T Very little time was allowed officially for the teaching of the vernacular, and we find as a result that of the seven or eight million lay students that have passed through the hands of the Jesuit educators, since the Order was founded, a very insignificant num-

" Mon, German. Pad. 5, 144, 148.

I 8 No. 34-

17 Ed. of Ratio, 1832.

her have attained to celebrity as writers of modern literature, Those who have done so, Voltaire, James Joyce, and others, are men who for the most part owed their literary skill to personal initiative.

While I was at Clongowes (1895 to 1901) there began a national effort to revive the Gaelic language, and throughout the country patriotic schools were seconding the movement. The Order, of course, held back and discouraged the teaching of Irish. There were here and there high-minded Jesuits who tried to persuade Superiors to adopt the national viewpoint, and to fall in line with the rest of the country. But their suggestions were turned down and they were penalised in many ways. The two Jesuits of my time in Clongowes, who were in league with the movement, Fr. P. Dinneen and Mr. T. O'Nolan, both of whom were fine Irish scholars, left the Society. Others subsequently had to follow their example. It was the old story of Jesuit reaction; Jesuit hostility to "new things"; Jesuit distrust and hatred of nationalism. Needless to say, at Jesuit headquarters at Rome, the Spanish General, surrounded by Italians, French, Poles, Germans, Portuguese, and Dutch reactionaries, felt but little favour for what was looked upon as Irish Carbonarism. Cosmopolitanism was ever the policy of the Order, in education, as in other matters. The Order cared little for the individual needs of special countries. As Fr. Patchtler, S.J., wrote: "An Order so centralised as the Society of Jesus which sends its professors from one country to another, wherever the need is greatest, is absolutely compelled to establish unity in its school system, methods of instruction, and scheme of studies."

There are times in a country's history when a bold and lofty purpose inspires the people, and when the united energy of its citizens, old and young, is needed to. carry it through. When such a phenomenon occurs, if there be Jesuits in the country at the time, as there were in Ireland at the time of which I speak, they hold back and question the Catholicity of the national aim, finding fault with it, and damping the spirit of the people. They can never fall in enthusiastically with anything national or idealistic. As Count von Hoensbroech, angry over Jesuit contempt for German literature, German national ideals and German educational progress, wrote: "The Order, with no comprehension of the progressive needs

of the age, slavishly imitated the system of instruction prevalent in the schools at the time of its foundation in the sixteenth century; it remained in this antiquated and ossified condition for centuries; it subordinated and still subordinates the national development of the pupils committed to its care to its own international interests."

Jesuits have often been accused of "touting" for vocations among the students in their colleges. Some Jesuits gain a great reputation in the Order for their power in "attracting" suitable boys to enter. And the Order is fully aware of the opportunity that colleges offer for the obtaining of recruits, and of the value of the work done by Jesuits who "land vocations."

Methods of approach vary a great deal, but usually the first move is to take an interest in a "likely" boy. Soon he and the Jesuit become friends and there follow walks, and talks, and the lending of books, and enquiries about home, and possibly a visit to the boy's home during vacation. As the year wears on the question of "what are you going to do with yourself?" is raised by the Jesuit. No suggestion of entering religion is made, but difficulties are pointed out in regard to many of the boy's schemes. "After all, what is most important is that you should follow some line of work where you can do good! Yes, Tommy! You must always keep that in mind! Doing good! That is the only thing that is worth while in this life. Nothing else matters!" The boy is told "to pray hard" for light and guidance, and he is encouraged to perform some special acts of piety; to dust an altar every day, or to take care of some pious association.

The annual college retreat is given by a visiting Jesuit. His talks are calculated to make boys think of entering religion, but he carefully refrains from pointedly referring to the Society of Jesus, though he tells many attractive stories of Jesuit saints.

"Landing a vocation" is, needless to say, a long, delicate and difficult process; it is a work requiring more art than the landing of a six-pound trout. But it is an art that produces its results with the same certainty that obtains in fishing. Unquestionably Jesuits do fish among their college students for vocations; every year their expert fishers land a fish or two or mayhap more when the season is good.

Prudence, of an extreme kind, so extreme indeed that it verged

into its opposite, characterised many Jesuit educational ordinances. As an example let us take that of General Acquaviva, concerning the teaching of advanced doctrines. "If opinions, no matter whose they may be, are found in a certain province or city to give offence to many Catholics, whether members of the Society or not; that is persons not unqualified to judge, let no one teach them or defend them there, albeit the same doctrines may be taught elsewhere without offence." 18 Fr. Hughes, S.J., commenting on this rule, which if put into practice universally would sound the death-knell of science, writes: 1B "The principle seems discreet. If a corporate body does not want to be compromised it is not for the individual to compromise it." The point, however, is that any corporate body which makes a rule of this kind, compromises itself hopelessly in the eyes of all lovers of truth and science. The rule as it stands implies that doctrines, however true, may only be taught if they please local magnates, conspicuous for their piety and their influence.

Not .only, however, did the Society display excessive caution in the concealing of discovered truth, but it showed great indifference to the furtherance of Science. Professor Van Dyke, who, in writing his biography of Ignatius Loyola, had to read very extensively in Jesuit literature, states (p. 246): "The writer is unable to recall in the letters and works of Ignatius or the reports of his conversations by his friends, a single phrase which suggests a hope that new truth was to be discovered."

• • • • • • •

One finds in the educational work of the Jesuits, and in every page of the Ratio y certain fundamental characteristics of Jesuit undertakings; uniformity of method; conservatism; self-interest; a mixing of worldly wisdom and piety; snobbery and arrogance. Everywhere human nature is regarded as vitiated. Appeal is made to the practical rather than the ideal in man. There is a haunting fear arid suspicion of what is new, unusual, adventuresome, or at all progressive. The Order, absolutistic to the core, and utterly reactionary, is unable to adapt itself to the changing circumstances of life, or to give birth to original endeavours.

18 Cf. Epist. of Acquaviva, supplementing the Ratio.

19 Cf. op. cit., p. 149.

The education given by the Jesuits is not vital or organic. In no true sense is it inspiring. It aims at safety and mediocrity, and is unsuited to produce pioneers of thought. No doubt a few Jesuits made important discoveries in physics and astronomy, but it was thanks to their own initiative. In general Jesuits have little faith in the vast potentialities of the human mind or in the possibility of great scientific achievements.

The Jesuit psychologist scoffs at the theory that there are hidden powers in the unconscious mind, and treasures of gold to be drawn therefrom. As a scholastic he holds a dull prosaic view of the human soul, with its memory, imagination, intellect and will, functioning as a fourfold mechanism, playing forever at its well-ordered quadrille. Though he does not know it, the Jesuit is at heart a sceptic and an agnostic. He has no faith in the reality of the divine trinity of the mind, the good, the true and the beautiful. But in his pessimism he is obsessed with the thought that man tends naturally towards the evil, the false and the ugly.

Given his spiritual "indifference," his conservatism and his sus-piciousness, the Jesuit should never have entered the arena of pedagogy. Inspiration, love of learning, feat# of scientific daring, mad flights of poetic imagination, grandiose dreams of snatching her marvellous secrets from Nature; such things are not to be expected from repressed and awe-struck men, who tremble at the voice of every Superior, and whose fingers nervously clutch their Examen beads to mark another imperfection committed or another arrow shot at the devil.

CHAPTER IX

REPRESSION AND EXPLOSIONS

THE Jesuit has often been described in literature as a cunning fellow, an equivocator and a plotter by nature and training. Some writers clothe him with an outer garment of learning and dignity, while still insisting on making an arch-traitor of him, and an indefatigable agent of Rome. Friendly pens introduce the Jesuit as a man of strong will, unselfish, superhumanly wise, zealous and skilled in reading character. As .an offset to undiluted praise, there is perhaps added some humanising blemish such as addiction to snuff or absent-mindedness.

The Jesuit of literature is however as fictional as "John Bull" or "Uncle Sam." He is neither so loyal nor so treacherous as he is said to be. Neither is he so interesting. The essential note of his character is neither strength of will, nor duplicity. It is repression! The Jesuit is dehumanised by repression. The "innce te-tysum" ("conquer thyself"), inculcated in his training, soon becomes a mechanism of his mind. Destructive processes that have been at work since his entrance into the Order produce marked effects. The childlike trustfulness, enthusiasm, affectionateness and simple piety that clothe the generous young postulant on entering are inevitably stripped away. In order to replace these qualities efforts are made to implant discretion, restraint, a supernatural outlook on all things and an unceasing vigilance over self. An artificial attitude towards God and man is set up, and there results a state of mental uncertainty and insincerity founded in repression.

Before he entered, Tom Brown, knew that he loved his parents and that his love was lawful and good. And the idea of "edifying" his parents never entered his mind. But now as "Brother Tom," the Jesuit novice, he has learned that "care must be taken that each one rid himself of all carnal affection towards his relations,

converting it into what is spiritual, and loving them solely with

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that kind of love which spiritually regulated (ordinata) charity demands." 1

Br. Tom is in doubt as to whether or not he has taken sufficient care to "rid himself of all carnal affection" for his mother. He is not sure if the affection he feels for her is "spiritual affection" which he now believes is the right kind of affection to cherish. He prepares to edify his mother "in the Lord" by his modest and restrained demeanour when she comes to see him. When she does come, however, the sight of the dear, loved face sets all his spiritual ideas toppling down. Tears are in her eyes, of course, at the sight of Tom in his tattered black cassock. He starts to rush towards her to embrace her. Then the thought of his rule comes up and spoils all. He feels it is sinful for him to be happy with her. He tries to repress his emotion, recalling to mind what he was told the previous day, that "it is holy counsel that Ours should accustom themselves not to say that they have parents, or brothers, but that they had them, thus indicating that they no longer have that which they have forsaken, in order to put Christ on in place of everything. This should be particularly observed by those who seem more in danger of being troubled by some natural affection t which is more frequently the case with novices." 2

Poor Mothers! How you suffer, when after months of weary waiting, you are allowed to visit your Jesuit sons, only to be met with tantalising coldness, and artificial attitudes of piety—religious antics, that your Tom or your Jack is flaying by rote to edify you. He loves you, of course, as much as ever, but he is oppressed by the ridiculous idea that he oughtn't to. In truth, he is suffering as much as you, but he is being "perfected" by repression!

"To go against self" is the watchword of the Jesuit rule of asceticism. "By so much as you go against yourself, by so much do you advance in perfection." It is indeed impossible to exaggerate the emphasis laid upon repression in the Jesuit Constitutions. The evil thing "nature" must be warred down and slaughtered; not merely that nature that is associated with the body and the flesh, but also that nature which is said to abide in the mind and will.

"Much more strenuously is the crushing of the interior than of the body to be insisted upon; be ruthless in breaking the movements i Summ. Const. 8. 2 Decl. Exam. Gen.

of your spirit." "The repression of the will is to be esteemed of higher value than the raising of the dead to life."

The Jesuit must, according to rule, be crucified to the world; dead to self-love; indifferent to home and country; thinking and saying the same as other Jesuits; liking whatever he is told to do; hating whatever is forbidden; standing, as it were, with one foot in the air, ready to march away from his own likings and in the direction of what his Superior wishes. In his intellectual life he must hate novelties and embrace opinions that are "safer and more approved by authority." He must discountenance sincerely "dangerous freedom of thought," and distrust his own judgment. In philosophy and theology he must think with the masters chosen for him. If light-hearted he must cultivate gravity; if confident he must screw himself into diffidence; if phlegmatic he must learn to hustle, and if a hustler he must go slow. "Contraries to contraries," all the time and in every case, is the golden rule of Jesuit perfection.

The Jesuit would like to talk. Let him observe silence. He would like to go out of doors. Let him stay at home. He delights in music. Musical instruments are not allowed. He is hungry. Let him wait till supper-time and then eat less than he needs. He loves mathematics. It will be better for his spiritual progress if he is put to teach classics. "In all things he must seek his own greater self-abnegation; in all things and continuously." He finds comfort in external works. The Industrie, as we have seen, shows how he must be "confined to barracks" whether he likes it or not.

Friendship even is denied the Jesuit, for he is taught to repress all natural inclinations bordering on affection. And the government of the Order sets its face resolutely against intimacy between Jesuits.

Friendship with those outside the Order, even with good priests, is still less palatable to the tastes of Superiors. "It must be confessed," wrote Polanco, 8 the official chronicler of the Order in the time of Ignatius, "experience teaches that a very close friendship with priests who are not of the Company, even though in other respects they are good and spiritual men and active in helping their neighbours, is not to be cultivated."

»Pol. IV. us.

There is, I think, no need to illustrate any further the repression that exists in the Society of Jesus, as elsewhere and often it is alluded to. It goes on all through the life of the Jesuit, and even when he dies, his poor body, worn out by his life of fretful, grinding irritation, is clothed in the Jesuit habit, to remind his spirit, as it were, to continue to keep the Holy Rule on its way to the next world.

In the chapter on "Mind-healing," I have described the results of Jesuit repression, in terms of neuroses and pathological symptoms. In this chapter I propose to describe, what I may call, the "social results" of repression, that is, the behaviour reactions that follow in its trail.

Few Jesuits, very few, can live up to the severity of the rule, but all, who want to live at peace with Superiors, must pretend to do so. Hence the cardinal vice of the Jesuit is pretence and 'make-believe. To allow oneself the necessary outlets for pent-up feelings, to indulge the necessary reaction to repression without "being caught," is the practical problem of the average Jesuit's life. Human nature asserts itself in the end, and holidays are given to the processes of repression. The wise and prudent Jesuit lets go of repression gradually. The imprudent one throws it suddenly and completely to the winds, and reacts in a fury of disgust* But of course he gets into trouble before long, and penalties and reprimands are showered upon him.

The days in which a Jesuit co-operates with his rule in practising self-repression are the days of "first fervour." Every Jesuit has to "look back" to those days, and if he is still pious he sighs over his lack of progress, and promises himself to make amends. He feels compunction because he has allowed himself to drop those holy exercises of mortification and humility, that went hand in hand with fervour and repression. He reminds himself of the wise aphorisms of holy religious who taught that progress in virtue is not to be measured by years spent within the monastery but by victories over self. And he beats his breast as he ponders over the undeniable maxim that "the habit does not make the monk"

I remember as a Jesuit novice being struck by the violence of the explosion that occurred, the moment the novices were released . from repression. At the instant that the warning bell announced

the beginning of recreation, and permission to talk, there was a veritable outburst of cries and shouts. Noisy confusion sprang after the heels of holy silence, and delirious uproar banged the door on demure gravity. As often as permission was given for games, and novices played hockey, roughness and brutality was the spirit of the game. Cuts, blows and bruises were distributed with the utmost liberality and the angelic faces of the novices were not unfrequently distorted with immoderate emotions. When, however, the game was over, and the novices covered with mud and bathed in perspiration, bleeding, too, perhaps and limping, thronged directly to the chapel (no time was allowed for change of clothes), peace and prayerfulness reappeared on their countenances, as if by magic. Repression was in the ascendancy once more.

A Noviceship dormitory at night is often as noisy as a madhouse. The "censor" has insufficient'power to control the thoughts repressed during the day, and so the real thoughts, the sincere things, the things that novices do not allow their conscious minds to dwell upon, are uttered during sleep.

One night I lay awake. I made pious efforts not to hear what was being said, but I could not help hearing a voice that talked close beside me. It was that of a novice who had entered the same day as I had. He had left a happy home, and considerable wealth. He was a model novice, "very happy in his vocation," and always proclaiming his delight at having escaped from the wicked world. In his sleep, however, his tongue was unrestrained, and I was surprised at the tone of his voice. Some sub-conscious thought was struggling to find expression. Then suddenly he raised his voice and these words, laden with deep import, were carried up and down the dormitory, but probably no one save myself was awake to hear them: "Oh!" he cried, "Oh, If I only knew before I came."

Everything in the Noviceship is done under strain and in an unnatural way. At meals the most ordinary little courtesies become for this reason a veritable torture. One of the rules prescribes attention to the needs of one's neighbour; passing bread, salt and so forth, without waiting to be asked. The novice is supposed to watch carefully so as to anticipate the requirements of those beside him. Now if one considers the mental state of the novice, how he

is strung up to a high pitch of excitement about doing everything perfectly, for the "Greater Honour and Glory of God," one will understand what a strain even such a commonplace rule as this entails. All the while during meals the novice is watching and calculating the exact moment at which to pass to his neighbour this, that or the other thing. Meanwhile he, though perhaps ravenously hungry, has to eat with the utmost modesty, as though in the presence of Christ, slowly, quietly and with due circumspection. He may only put small morsels into his mouth at a time, even though eating "against time," and he has to take care to mortify himself, by denying himself the nicest parts of what he gets to eat. He has also to attend to the spiritual reading that is going on, and to derive fruit therefrom. What a torture meals were in the Noviceship!

And now, if I can, I will explain a peculiar reaction to this table repression. I have already referred to various forms of public penance. One of these penances is to "dine on one's knees," which means when grace is said, one kneels at a centre table on a low stool and eats one's dinner thus alone in the presence of the Community. Such a penance may seem severe to those who do not appreciate the spirit and circumstances of religious life, but as a matter of fact there is nothing hard in it. No one pays any attention to the person doing this penance, save the servers, who are always particularly attentive to kneelers. It has, moreover, one attraction for novices, namely that they are spared the torture of watching their neighbours' plates. The result is that it is a popular form of penance, and more than one novice confessed to me that he liked "taking dinner on his knees" as it was the only way he could get a meal in peace!

One of the few well-executed general "explosions" that I had part in, while a Jesuit, took place at Clongowes College during my period there as a Jesuit teacher. It is customary in Jesuit Houses to have, from time to time, what are called "wine-evenings." These "wine-evenings" are an agreeable institution in the Society. They are usually held after dinner, in the Recreation Room, where all save lay-brothers assemble. The Recreation Room table is covered with light refections, and decanters of claret, port and whiskey are placed at each end of the table. Regulations

govern-the quantity of wine that may be taken; whiskey is allowed in lesser quantity than the other kinds of wine. Usually the Fathers take whiskey and the Scholastics claret or port, but the latter have also the right to take whiskey if they wish, but they are not well thought of if they do so.

The granting of "wine-evenings" depends on the humour of the Superior. He grants or refuses them as he thinks fit, but naturally the community take it very ill if they are refused too often, and a good deal of grumbling and discontent ensues. Some of the older Fathers in particular are very furious if a "wine-evening" on which they count is not granted.

At the time of which I write the Rector of Clongowes, a very autocratic individual, was in chronic ill-humour, and to the annoyance and dismay of the community, he began to cut down the number of "wine-evenings." Again and again they were refused^ and finally a few weeks elapsed without one being granted. When at long last a "wine-evening" was announced, a mood bordering on rebellion had taken possession of the Scholastics. They came to the Recreation Room as usual, but not in the usual spirit. Then, as if by inspiration, an idea came to them. They would all take whiskey!

The decanter in due time was passed round the table and one after another, all the Scholastics filled their glasses with whiskey. This unaccustomed demand necessitated the sending for a further supply.

Later on still another supply was required. The face of the Rector meanwhile was a study. He grew purple with indignation, but he could say nothing, as rule and custom were against him. Presently a look akin to terror swept over his face. Was this rebellion? What did it mean? Was not his authority being flouted? But the Scholastics, joyous under the effects of the unaccustomed stimulant, laughed and joked uproariously, little caring by this time what their good Rector felt or thought. Pent-up feelings had found an appropriate outlet, reaction had followed repression, "there was joy in heaven," and the Rector was given a salutary lesson which had its good effect.

This "reaction," simple and trivial though it be, may help to give an insight into things that loom large in a Jesuit's life. It is

due to the pitiable mistrust that Jesuits feel in each other that concerted "protest-reactions" are rare. Jesuits grumble and complain behind Superiors 1 backs, but they hardly ever find courage to unite in a perfectly justifiable demonstration of the kind described.

Turning now to reactions engendered by meticulous and repressive rules of poverty, we find Jesuits, almost all Jesuits, employing subterraneous methods for securing pocket-money, although they are forbidden "to have money in their own or in another's keeping." The average Jesuit finds it quite impossible to get along without some money, and he feels it still more impossible to beg his Superior for money for every trifling expenditure that he has to make. Strictly, he should go to his Superior to ask money even for the purchase of a newspaper or the payment of a street-car fare.

Jesuits do not accumulate big sums of money for personal expenses. Usually they have very modest views of what capital is desirable for them to have. This capital is generally within the limits of what is regarded as a grave violation of their vows. But, on the other hand, it is rare to find a Jesuit who is wholly without a private purse. Friends and relatives generally keep his purse replenished. Often, too, he places "fat stipends" to his personal account instead of handing them over to his Superior.

Reaction to the repressive rules of holy poverty shows itself in Jesuit wastefulness. Jesuits are exceedingly wasteful as regards food, clothes, books and community property. They break things, throw them around, misuse them with the utmost indifference. And when they receive permission to buy clothes or other articles they, as often as not, buy the most expensive things they can find. They are all the more provoked to do so if they are living under parsimonious Superiors.

A rather amusing incident occurred, in this connection, in a Jesuit college where I was studying. The Superior was notably stingy. Furthermore, he was a man who was accustomed to play tricks, mean tricks, on the community, and to go to the greatest lengths to save money. He knew quite well what the community thought of him and as far as he could he protected himself against reprisals.

The community was very large and there were fixed days arranged each year for the supplying of clothes, shoes, and so forth.

When the "shoe-day" came a large stock was sent from a warehouse under the charge of a young man. Generally the shoes were of two prices, a dearer and a cheaper shoe. The prices were of course marked on the shoes. Now the Superior knew that as a reprisal for his meanness the community would buy, on this occasion, the dearer shoes. So he took measures to protect himself. Before the announcement was made that the shoes were ready for selection he went to the room where they were, and with the assistance of the warehouse clerk, he changed all the prices, putting the higher prices on the cheaper shoes. His strategy of course succeeded. As he anticipated, the community chose the apparently expensive shoes, and he was saved a great deal of money.

One of the most irksome of repressive measures in the Order is that already alluded to in the chapter on espionage, the visiting of Jesuits at prayer times, to see if they are at prayer in their rooms. The "visitor" approaches the room quietly, opens the door without knocking and looks in. Usually he is content to glance at the prle-dieu to see if the occupant of the room is there, kneeling or standing. Then he goes on to the next room. As may be guessed, "visiting" at prayer time provokes various types of reaction. The efforts of Superiors to "catch" subjects awakens in them contrary efforts not to be "caught." Hence many a Jesuit lies in bed in the morning until the time for visiting arrives. Then he listens intently and allows himself, when he hears the "visitor" approaching, just sufficient time to jump out of bed, throw on a coat, and kneel for a moment at his 'prie-dieu while the "visitor" glances in; then back to bed again with an easy conscience. Some Jesuits have been known to dress up a dummy figure and place it at their •prlg-dieuy so that the "visitor" may think that all is well, and that the holy father, in reality in bed, is at his prayers. Such childish subterfuges are the inevitable reactions to absolutism pushed to extremes.

The excessive external decorum imposed by the "Rules of Modesty" likewise results in many strange reactions. To some of these reference has already been made. When a few Jesuit friends who can trust one another get together, the "Rules of Modesty" prescribing strict decorum are completely forgotten, and if they meet in a room, it is usual for one to stretch himself on the bed;

another places his feet on the mantelpiece; another sits on a heap of papers on the floor; and perhaps another extemporises an armchair out of the $rie-dieu and a pile of books of philosophy and theology. Sometimes concerts or entertainments are improvised, and not a little ragging and "horse play" goes on. For, safe from the eye and ear of the Superior, the average Jesuit pays little regard to holy modesty, and rightly feels the lawfulness of moderate dissipation. "Dulce est dissipere in loco."

As physical safety-valves great numbers of Jesuits cultivate hobbies, little in keeping with the tenor of the Constitutions. Those who have read Van Dyke's interesting chapter on the character of Ignatius Loyola will remember how sternly Ignatius discountenanced games, except "lusus trudlculorum" a kind of croquet, and "fiastrelle" a game played by driving round, flat pieces of wood on tables. "Not long before his death," writes Van Dyke, 4 "he sent word to a college where they were playing at ball and at marbles, that he preferred to have nothing played at any college except 'piastrelle' in the open air, 'which gave exercise to the arms and to almost the whole body.' Voluntary or impromptu sports were not welcomed; for Ignatius had no confidence in any life for the Company which did not go by rule. Once young Ribadeneira, Father Olave and others got to throwing around an orange, and the man who muffed it must recite the Angelic Salutation. Ignatius heard of it and gave them a penance that others should not follow their example and bring in some new game."

In spite,, however, of this Jesuit tradition, and of stern rules against worldly sports, the average Jesuit has his particular hobby. Some join Golf Clubs; some Boating Clubs; others Tennis Clubs. Many have cars, while others, especially in England and Ireland, ride bicycles. Fishing, shooting and riding are likewise indulged in according as opportunity offers. Many have cameras, phonographs, radios, while others frequent operas and movie shows. Not a few go to the theatre when they can do so with safety, and in general it would be hard to discover any kind of sport or amusement that Jesuits do not find an opportunity to enjoy at some time or other, in spite of the Puritanical tenor of the Rule.

* Op. tit., p. 339-

I heard of Jesuits who on their way to their Mission dressed up as young ladies and spent the afternoon so attired, to the amusement of all aboard. One of them was a young man particularly conspicuous in my Noviceship for his piety and decorum.

A good deal of insight is afforded into the psychology of the Jesuit Superior and the Jesuit Subject alike, and into the folly of excessive repression by a study of the Order's attitude as regards the rule of speaking Latin. This rule in general imposes on Scholastics the talking of Latin at all times outside recreation time. And among Scholastics are included priests during the year following their ordination.

The rule is fairly well observed during the Noviceship and the two years following the Noviceship, while classical studies are being pursued. But after that even the most edifying young Jesuits ignore it. Superiors, nevertheless, continue to keep up the pretence of enforcing it. The Society is incapable of admitting the necessity of change or reform; and woodenness of attitude is the result. Again and again I have seen Superiors, in addressing Scholastics, work themselves into a frenzy over the non-observance of this impossible "Latin rule." They threatened severe penalties for breaches of observance and interpreted the general disobedience to the rule as a sign of laxity. Of course they never made any admission as to the lack of common-sense and understanding in the Order in enacting such a rule. I do not of course wish to affirm that it is impossible to carry on conversation in Latin. Most Jesuits seem to know sufficient Latin to express themselves intelligibly in that language. But what is impossible is the continuous repression involved in using such an awkward vehicle of communication. Religious life has a sufficiency of painful repressions without such a stupid one added on.

In the lives of Jesuit Saints one finds great emphasis laid on the "vlnce te-ipum" maxim, and on the manner in which they observed repressive rules. The Order boasts that in the canonisation of John Berchmans the rules were in a sense "canonised," because the one remarkable spiritual feature of this young Fleming was the assiduous devotion he showed to the "Holy Rule." During his short life in the Order he never deliberately broke a rule. He was the exemplar of repression. Aloysius Gonzaga was another

Jesuit Saint of the same type. The expansiveness of Anthony of Padua or Francis of Assisi was wholly absent from them. The lives of the former were as uninteresting as could well be imagined. They were prim, cold, precise, matter of fact, unlovable. There was nothing generous or inspiring about them. Aloysius was apparently obsessed with the idea of transmuting his flesh, by prayer and penance, into angelic substance. Berchmans was obsessed with a spiritual "miscophobia" (a horror of imperfection), which he applied to any blot on his rule keeping. He "attached the utmost importance to trifles" (maximi minima fecit), and never, of course, questioned the divinity of the inspiration which he found in his rule. Like Aloysius, he passed his days, note-book in hand, marking down tiny imperfections that were to be corrected, minute indications of progress for which to render thanks to God, and admirable traits of virtue that he discovered in others and that he proposed to plagiarise. Virtue for them was a thing to be increased and cultivated by careful bookkeeping, and profit and loss accounts. Neither, apparently, ever allowed himself to eat "a square meal"; to shout or laugh with joyous abandonment; or to sleep till full sunlight banished drowsiness from his eyes. Neither, at death, could have given any description of life in this world, which would not have been a complete travesty. Good for them was constraint within the narrow predetermined path, marked out by the pioneers of religious life. They felt no obligation to think for themselves or to develop whatever fine natural gifts they might discover within themselves. They had not even the strange joys of the mystical life, nor the thrilling adventure of a missioner's death for the faith. "CabinM, cribb'd, confm'd" they lived to exemplify complete and perfect repression, but their memories are cherished in the Order, and their lives put forward as models for all.

A recent Jesuit "saint," not however yet canonised, was Fr. William Doyle, whose "life," written by Professor Alfred Rahilly, caused quite a stir among Anglicans as well as Catholics. He died very bravely as a Chaplain to the Forces in France.

Fr. Doyle, whom I knew personally, was bright and full of humour; energetic; winning in manner; and, when not facetious, kind-hearted. He was, however, quite obviously excitable and neurotic. After his death his notes, marked "to be burned, un-

opened," were examined by his brother, a Jesuit. They contained such a wonderful story of spiritual life that they were handed to Professor Rahilly for publication. In these notes Fr. Doyle tells of his repressions and reactions, which were remarkably intense. At times he used to disrobe in the fields and roll about naked among the nettles; at times he would lie naked in cold water on winter nights; he practised many forms of cruel bodily chastisement. He was, however, an "arithmomaniac" of an unheard-of kind. According to his notes he used pray a few hundred thousand times a day, and he used instruct his pious clientele to pray at least fifty thousand times a day. How he could achieve this marvellous task no one seems to know, but none the less it is reverently believed that he did so.

He carried on an enormous correspondence with pious women, mostly nuns, which no doubt was -a form of reaction to his repressions, and he was something of a spiritual hobo travelling the country; giving edifying entertainments with lantern slides. He had what other less fortunate and less pious Jesuits of the Irish Province called a very "good time." And for such, Fr. Doyle was an outstanding exemplar of the cynical maxim, "piety pays."

Fr. Doyle was far from being a learned or scholarly man, but he published a little book on Vocations, wherewith he induced a great number of devout and admiring females to enter convents. Some of these I have reason to know entered, not because the life really suited them, temperamentally or spiritually, but because "Dear Fr. Doyle" had advised them to do so.

The Jesuit Order, no doubt for propaganda purposes, authorised the publication of Fr. Doyle's life. As I have said, I knew Fr. Doyle and I admit that he was an interesting and even lovable character, far more lovable than many of the canonised Jesuit Saints. But, in all honesty, I believe that it is unfair to the public to encourage the belief that this excitable, often angry and violent, neurotic whose spiritual reactions were so largely temperamental, was a Saint, in the accepted meaning of the word. His life reflected little more than the inevitable explosiveness consequent upon the grinding repressions of the Jesuit Rule.

It may not be out of place here to describe a very common type of Jesuit, a type which, while much less interesting than Fr. Doyle,

is even more peculiarly the product of Jesuit repression. If I could relate in detail the life of a Jesuit belonging to this class, it would prove perhaps the most formidable indictment of the Order that could possibly be put together. It would show how the life of the Order gradually demoralises men, naturally of fine and generous tendencies, and turns them into weak, cowardly, insincere wrecks of manhood, with slave minds and ruined nerves. I take, as an example (will he recognise his own picture if he ever reads this book?), a man who about thirty-five or forty years ago entered the Society as a tall, athletic, clever young man full of energy and full of Irish fun and humour. He was a good classical scholar; particularly accurate and exact in his scholarship; and gifted with a nice sense of literary style. He had, I think, the making of an exceptionally good critic, or writer of pungent and thoughtful essays. He might indeed have edited a paper with distinction, or have developed into a distinguished preacher or lecturer. He had great fluency, good judgment in the choice of words, and was possessed of a rich and sweet voice. He was endowed with all the qualities that one considers desirable in a teacher, and had it not been for the mental and moral blight that life in the Society meant for him, he might have become a brilliant Head-Master.

Given such fine material, the Society had an excellent opportunity of producing a leader of thought, a great inspirer of culture, a propagandist of good taste, and noble ideals. And that all the more, if this gifted young Irishman should show himself ready and willing to cooperate in the training to be given him and should inspire the confidence of his Superiors.

Now I want in particular to emphasise the fact that "Fr. X.," for so I shall call him, co-operated in every way with the Society's training and inspired confidence to an unusual extent. He has all through his career stood well with Superiors. He has always been regarded as a trust-worthy and "prudent" man. He never got into any scrapes; never once in all his career was he "caught." He passed all his Society "tests" brilliantly. He was conspicuous for his knowledge of the Constitutions. He was, of course, "professed," and, an exceptional mark of honour, was put in charge of Jesuit Juniors for many years. He has officiated as Vice-Provincial^ and has been raised to the government of various

houses. He has been "consulter" many times. His views of what becomes and what does not become "Ours" is taken as final. He is in fact decorated with every mark of love, affection and trust with which the Society decorates its most cherished members. He has therefore co-operated very fully with the requirements of the Order, but what has been the result? What has become of the generous, clever, high-minded young Irishman of thirty-five years ago? What has the Jesuit Order made of this fine material that has been so docile and pliable in its hands? What stamp of perfection has the Holy Rule of the Order left upon him?

To-day Fr. X. is, to my mind, one of the most despicable characters in existence. He is such a craven coward that he almost fears to cough, lest his coughing should be interpreted as a disregard of Holy Rule. He has no friend whose secrets he is not on the alert to find out in order to.betray them at once to his Superior. There is no form of pretence, hypocrisy, equivocation that he is not versed in. There is no form of flattery in which he is not ready to indulge in order to please a Superior. There is no act of folly or imprudence of any member of his Province that he has not made himself thoroughly acquainted with, in order to have tales to tell to Superiors when names crop up at Consultations. His fears and uncertainties have now become an obsession for him and he is tortured by "folie de doute." To take decided action on any question is a torture for him.

During all his years in the Order he has not preached one notable sermon; given one public lecture; or written as much as one important review. All his literary gifts have gone utterly to waste. His teaching, whatever the cause, turned out to be deplorably bad and inefficient. While a Junior, I had him as my classical and English master, and never once during the whole year did he correct a Latin or Greek exercise. As Superior he was the cruellest and most inconsiderate man I ever met. Many of his Province lay to his charge the sad deaths of two young Scholastics who, although advanced tubercular cases, were driven to breaking-point by work which he imposed on them. One of these tubercular Scholastics, whom I knew very well, was sent back by Fr. X. to wade about in a half-frozen pond until he should find a skate that he had lost. When the time of the Public Examinations

arrived, Fr. X., who had kept this poor dying boy working at classics till n P.M. every night, allowed him to enter for the exams., although the doctor who had seen him the same day said that there was no longer any hope of hiVrecovery and that at most he could last a few months. But Fr. X. wanted the credit of the brilliant examination results that were expected of him. The results were forthcoming, but also the boy's death a few months later.

The Jesuit system of espionage, described elsewhere, is perfectly incarnated in this unhappy man. To gather information for reports to Rome is the chief preoccupation of his life. With no little cleverness he draws young men into making confidences, which he straightway reports to higher Superiors. During the time of the Revolution in Ireland he cleverly pretended to be privately in sympathy with the "extremists," in order that he might find out what the Jesuits who held such views were doing and saying. The informations which he thus acquired by despicable deception he handed on forthwith to his Superiors, and many a Sinn Fein Jesuit was taken aback at the knowledge that Superiors possessed about his views and conversation.

Such in brief is the story of how the Society turns to its own selfish uses material which under other circumstances would have proved so serviceable to mankind. Fr. X., of course, is not known outside the Order. For the world-at-large he is non-existent, save in so far as by his grim reactionary influence he prevents people outside from having the benefit of the teachings of Jesuits who have leanings towards enlightenment and progress.

Jesuits often say, and I think truly, that it is the more or less disedifying little things in the lives of Saints that are most useful in affording an understanding of them. The "firing of the gun" in the life of Aloysius, and the contemplated head-breaking of the irreverent Moslem by Ignatius, are examples of such minor incidents that help to the comprehension of these Saints. What is true of individuals is also, probably, true of groups. And I feel that what is most valuable in this book as aiding towards an under-, standing of the Jesuit Order is precisely the relating of little incidents, which to some, perhaps, may seem disedifying.

Now it will help much towards an understanding of the spirit

of repression engendered by an autocratic Superior if I be allowed to relate a somewhat bizarre explosion that such a Superior once evoked. And as the incident occurred in my presence I have no uncertainty as to its veracity.

At the time I was teaching in a big Jesuit college, the Rector of which, though unable to boast of noble blood, assumed very grand airs and lived up in every respect to the absolutist attitude laid down in the Constitutions. He was a big man, but he carried his dignity very awkwardly and was very much on the nerves of the community. In his presence, as is usual among Jesuits, no sign of disrespect was shown. But in his absence there was much merriment at the expense of Fr. Rector's dignity j this merriment, not unmingled with annoyance and contempt, was particularly manifested by a highly strung, clever young Scholastic whom I shall call Mr. F. !

The Rector was not particularly punctual at meal-times. Frequently he arrived late, and when he did so he walked in the stateliest manner imaginable to the head of the table, tramping rather heavily on the floor, which was perhaps symptomatic of his lordly mentality. There was, however, one unfortunate mannerism which belonged to him and which greatly detracted from his dignity. Instead of "keeping his hands decently quiet" when walking (as the "Rules of Modesty" imposed), his right hand was customarily very indecently occupied, as he walked, in a region where Americans carry flasks. When he reached his place at the head of the table he used sit down and glare around to assert as some of us thought his divine authority.

All in the community were of course aware of Fr. Rector's mannerism, but only veiled allusions to what was called "the royal salute" were ever made. One morning, however, Mr. F. took it upon himself to stage a one-act scene which it is impossible to forget.

The community were seated at breakfast, all save Mr. F. and the Rector, who was, as usual, late. Suddenly the door opened and a heavy tread was heard going up the refectory. We glanced up expecting to see the Rector. It was not the Rector, but Mr. F. Up the refectory walked Mr. F., his head poised with indescribable dignity, his feet pounding the floor and, to our amusement, his

right hand occupied as that of the Rector was wont to be. Arriving at the Rector's place, Mr. F. solemnly genuflected, raised to his lips the Rector's serviette, genuflected again, and so on in regard to the Rector's knife, fork and spoon. After a final solemn genuflection he returned to his place amid roars of laughter. Shortly afterwards the veritable Superior arrived, but save for a silence more subdued than usual there was nothing for him to discover.

One cannot of course conceive of any such reactions to repression as I have been describing, occurring in the entourage of Jesus of Nazareth. The petty rules designed to thwart and crush human impulses that abound in the Jesuit rule find no authorisation in the teachings of Christ. He had friends; "a beloved disciple," as well as Martha and Mary. He loved his City Jerusalem and wept when he thought of its sorrows. No <f ne tangas" (do not touch), rule prevented him from taking children into his arms. No regulations limiting his visits to women of noble birth kept him from visiting Peter's mother-in-law. When he wanted to talk to the Samaritan woman he chose ari hour when there would be none to overhear what he said. He was not preoccupied eternally with the reputation and good name of his company.

There was no prudery about his manner of multiplying the wine at Cana's festive board, nor did he shirk hitting hard and angrily when the traders desecrated the Temple with trafficking. When lonely he called his friends to keep him company. He made what provision he could for his Mother when he was dying, and he did not fear to look lovingly on her dear face as did his "imitator" Aloysius. He was essentially human, and the self-denial that he taught was not the constant goading to desperation of human feelings and emotions, but the stamping out of that narrow, egotistical selfishness which stands in the way of loving one's neighbour. There is, indeed, little in common between the repression that Jesus taught and practised and the repression that is imposed by the Jesuit Rules and Constitutions. Jesus may have been called the "Pale Nazarene" by those who hated him or misunderstood him, but no enemy of his has pretended that he resembled in the remotest way such a Jesuit product as Fr. X., whom I have described above.

One of the most degrading results of Jesuit repression is the fear attitude it engenders towards Superiors. Fr. X., to return to him for a moment, had the reputation of being a very virtuous man, and yet his fears used to play havoc even with his most sacred duties. For a priest, the offering of Mass, reverently and devoutly, is the most sacred duty of the day. And it is laid down in the Jesuit Constitutions that at least half an hour is required to perform this office in a becoming way. Yet, I have often seen Fr. X., when delayed for some reason in beginning his Mass, rush through the sacred prayers and ceremonies at breakneck speed, finishing all in fourteen or fifteen minutes, lest he should be reported to Superiors for keeping the -priest who was to follow him at the same altar waiting a few minutes. The same kind of fear of being considered self-indulgent by asking the Superior for a glass of wine if they (require it drives, as I have seen, grave professed Fathers to sneak into a sacristy when no one is looking and help themselves to altar wine. These petty and degrading weaknesses are inevitable, as long as Jesuit subjects are crushed and cowed in spirit by galling repression.

One Jesuit General, in a letter written on the subject of the manner of renovating vows, contemptuously warns the Jesuits who have duly prepared for the renovation, not to relapse when the pious days are over, and to conduct themselves "like dogs let loose from their chains" But the reaction of dogs is not due to any inherent naughtiness on their part, but to the inevitable resilience of their nature. The tighter you tie up dogs or humans the more violent will be the subsequent explosions, unless indeed you tie them so tight, and imprison them so long, that they can no longer use their limbs and faculties. And I am prepared to admit that the Order succeeds in holding many of its subjects so long and so sternly in bondage that they lose the power and indeed the will to react. But in such cases you have examples of the supreme human tragedy, men alive indeed, but no longer human, beings without personality, without individuality, and without honour. You have a characteristic Jesuit type. You have Fr. X.

CHAPTER X

POWER AND PRESTIGE

THE foundation of the Jesuit Order in 1540 holds in the history of the Catholic Church the important position of the Battle of Trenton in American history. The Church was at the time losing ground before the rapid spread of the Reformation, and there was dismay and despair in the hearts of thoughtful Catholics. Ignatius, however, employed the strategy that Washington was to follow a few centuries later. He gathered together an army, inspired them with confidence in victory, and realising that it was beyond his power to defend, he initiated an offensive. He captured outposts of the enemy, pretended that his successful skirmishings were decisive victories, awakened new hope in the Church, and turned the tide of defeat. Ignatius proved to be the Washington of the Catholic Church. The foundation of the Jesuit Order was the Church's Trenton.

The Ignatian movement appealed to the Catholic imagination and stirred it profoundly. Nothing was more calculated to evoke enthusiastic support from the Catholic world of the early sixteenth century than this daring adventure of scholarly, high-born soldier-priests, vowed to fight for the Church to the death; who unsheathed sharp swords against the heretics of the West and the infidels of the East. There was something of chivalry and romance in it; something that rekindled the waning knightly spirit of the age and set pious hearts aglow. Ignatius was another St. George, mounted and clad in armour, setting forth with his glittering lance to pierce the foul gorge of heresy.

Ignatius' movement appealed not only to the simple-minded and pious, but also to the more enlightened Catholics of his age, for he frankly admitted the importance of learning and science, chos-ing as- his first companions such only as were brilliant scholars. To enlightened Catholics he promised a revival of learning in the Church, while to the reactionary element he promised reforms;

more efficient inquisitorial methods; and a renewal of piety and fervour.

The fame of the soldier-priests spread fast and wide. The "new idea" caught on. The rich, the powerful and the fervent hastened to place themselves at Ignatius' service. Immense sums of money and recruits from the noblest families were forthcoming in abundance. Ignatius set himself to organise his army along the lines of strict obedience and centralised authority, elsewhere described. He dictated lines of policy and directed the strategy of his army from Rome. Before he died the movement he had initiated was in full swing; the era of Jesuitism had begun.

Thus the power and prestige of the Order originated in the brilliant conception of Ignatius, the conception that was again to be realised at Trenton, and was to make Washington immortal. In one case the Church was saved from; disruption; in the other a new-born Republic was saved from collapse. The prestige that Ignatius won was shared by his comrades deservedly, and by his successors through courtesy, just as to this day a certain honour is claimed by every American in virtue of his living under the shadow of Washington's statue.

There can be no doubt but that Ignatius rejoiced very heartily at the power that fell to him, and to the Order he had founded, and he set himself to devise means for the maintenance and increase ^ of this power. He believed that the greater such power was, the greater good he would be able to do. This idea of Ignatius in due time became a fixed principle in the mind of the Order, and the history of the Jesuits is the story of the married-life of piety and ambition.

Ignatius first of all aimed at increasing the numerical strength -of the Order. The Pope had, in 1540, limited the membership of the New Order to sixty, but Ignatius secured the removal of this restriction and set himself by means of the "Spiritual Exercises" and the educational establishments he founded, to win recruits. * Before the Order was sixty years old it had five thousand members, and at the time of the Suppression this number was augmented to twenty-two and a half thousand.

The extent of the Society's possessions increased proportionately. At Ignatius' death, in 1556, the Order possessed about one hundred

zo8 The Jesuit .Enigma

houses and colleges, and at the time of the Suppression in 1773 Order possessed seven hundred colleges and universities, as well as nine hundred residences, houses and mission-stations.

One of the reasons for the rapid increase in power and wealth of the Order was the suggestion assiduously spread abroad that ,( the Jesuits were super-men, paragons of learning, workers of I miracles, disguised angels from heaven, and so forth. Jesuits were, it was believed, destined to bring about the millennium of Catholicity. Even those who had never seen them readily believed that they were perfect in learning and virtue, indefatigable workers, achieving everywhere the unheard-of and impossible. Jesuits were said to be the most valiant of^all warriors in the battle for the Faith. They were the "hammerers of heretics" and the prophets of the Lord.

Needless to say it was easy for Jesuits to work miracles and to achieve wonders when their path was everywhere prepared by -^such strong suggestion. They came; they saw; they conquered. They played the role of divine healers. They cured the ^sick; averted plagues; reconciled enemies; solved problems; and gloried in vanquishing devils. Even heretics were influenced by the suggestion of their prowess. "Lo! Here they come! Hosanna! Victory! The Jesuits! The Holy Fathers!" And heretics quailed!

Here and there were people, less suggestible, who did not accept Jesuits as saints and miracle workers. Paris University; Louvain,; and Salamanca; Melchior Cano, the Dominican; the Bishop of Toledo; and apparently the Jews and Moslems. "Put me somewhere where are no Jews or Moslems," cried Francis Xavier. No doubt he found them sceptical of his raisings of the dead to life. Jesuits went forth, full of confidence in their powers, and intoxicated with the wine of victory. But Ignatius guided their .' steps. "Don't censure those in authority," he told them, fearing lest in their enthusiasm they might awaken the enmity of the great by indiscriminate Philippics. "We ought to be more ready to approve and praise as well the statutes and recommendations as the manners (lives) of our Superiors (than to reprove them). When you are speaking to men of authority fix a deferential look a little below the eyes; seek only the friendship of women of

high estate; be most careful to cultivate the good-will of those in power." Jesuit prophets were thus constrained to pursue a policy that John the Baptist would have scorned. True, they were to baptise, but they were not to use such expressions as "food of vipers" in respect to the rich and mighty. Bobadilla, one of Ignatius' first companions, went against this policy and anathematised the Emperor Charles V. He was at once recalled from the "front" and sent into the desert to do penance.

With varying fortunes and making slower progress as time went on, the Jesuit Order at last reached the pinnacle of its power / and prestige in the early eighteenth, century. It had become more influential and more welilthythan any other organisation in the world. It held a position in world affairs that no oath-bound group of men has ever held before or since. "The Jesuits were masters of the Courts of almost all the Catholic Kings and Sovereigns," wrote Saint-Simon, in his Memoirs, and Fr. Cordara, S.J., admitted that "nearly all the Kings and Sovereigns of Europe had only Jesuits as directors ofjheir consciences, so that the whole of Europe appeared to be governed by Jesuits only." But the taste of power and prestige had become so sweet to the lips of the Jesuit that he began to seek it for its own sake. A little later Clement XIV was to declare that "the Society was everywhere reproached with too much avidity and eagerness for earthly goods," which greed "exasperated many rulers of nations against it."

If we are to believe the celebrated Fr. Paul Hoffaus, S.J., who was sent by the General Acquaviva to visit the Upper German Province, Jesuits at an early date began to develop a taste for riches. He wrote to Acquaviva in 1596.

"We have swerved aside, we have fallen away violently indeed from the first form of poverty. We are not content with necessary things, but desire that all shall be comfortable, plentiful, diverse, profuse, elegant, splendid, gilded, precious and luxurious. . . . Woe to those who have brought about and devised this damnable and accursed expenditure to the corruption of our religious poverty. . . . There is not a trace left of the poverty of our fathers. Everything is done in grand style." Ten years later (1605), Fr. Mariana was to comment on "the excessive and scandalous enjoyments of the Spanish Jesuits"; on the large farms that they

owned j and on their managing as "steward-chaplains" large possessions of penitents. Indeed within nine years of the death of , Ignatius, a General Congregation (1565) had to legislate against ' j the possession, by Jesuit Houses, of large farms, and the selling of j produce in the public markets, and the conducting of lawsuits in the pursuit of legacies.

The most dramatic testimony to Jesuit "avidity and eagerness for earthly goods" is contained in a letter from the Venerable Bishop Palafox of Los Angeles to Innocent X, dated May 25, 1647. It treats of the wealth of the Mexican Jesuits of that time-.

"Most Holy Father:

I found almost all the wealth, all immovables, and all the treasures of this Province of America in the hands of the Jesuits, who still possess them. Two of their colleges have 300,000 sheep, without counting the Small flocks; and whilst almost all the Cathedral Churches and all the Orders together have hardly three sugar refineries, the Society has six of the largest. One of these refineries is valued at more than half a million thalers; and this single province of the Jesuits, which however only consists of ten colleges, possesses, as I have just said, six of these refineries, each of which brings in one hundred thousand thalers yearly. Besides this they have various cornfields of enormous size. Also they have silver mines, and if they continue to increase their power and wealth as they have done up to now, the secular clergy will become their sacristans and the laymen their stewards, while the other Orders will be forced to collect alms at their doors. All this property and all these considerable revenues which might make a sovereign powerful, serve no other purpose than to maintain ten colleges. . . . To this may be added the extraordinary skill with which they make use of and increase their super-abundant wealth. They maintain public warehouses, cattlefairs, butchers-stalls, and shops. They send a part of their goods by way of the Philippine Islands to China. They lend out their money for usury, and thus cause the greatest loss and injury to others."

The Jesuits, as is well known, held very large regions of Paraguay under missionary control from 1650 to 1750. More than a quarter of a million natives worked under their direction, and no payment was made directly 1 to them. The Jesuits "did not think it proper to give ideas of cupidity to Christians." They were educated, trained, housed, clothed, fed and, to some extent, amused, but what became of the surplus profits of their labours, and of the extensive trading that was carried on? Over two thousand boats are said to have been engaged in carrying merchandise and goods on the Parana River; and the economic value of the Reductions was beyond doubt very great: so great indeed as to have awakened the envy of Spanish and Portuguese traders. Robertson estimated that the Reductions represented at least $25,000,000 capital for the Society. Even granting that such an estimate was excessive, and admitting that the missionaries laboured in this vineyard for noble motives, nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the "material fruit" must have been very considerable.

If we travel eastwards, to the Indian Mission, we find that at Pondicherry the Jesuits were considered to be scooping up large profits by trading. A certain M. Martin, the Manager of the French Trading Company at Pondicherry, stated in one of his reports: *

"It is an established fact that, next to the Dutch, the Jesuits carry on the greatest and most successful trade in the East Indies. They surpass the English and other nations, even the Portuguese in this respect. . . . They have carried on trade to such an extent that Fr. Tachard alone owes the Trading Company at Pondicherry more than 160,000 piastres (about 450,000 French livres). You have been able to observe that the fifty-eight bales which belong to these Fathers, the smallest of which was as large again as one of those belonging to the French Trading Company, were distributed among all the ships of the squadron (which Louis XIV had sent to the East Indies under Admiral du Quene) and were not filled with rosaries or 'Agnus DeiV or other weapons which would be characteristic of an Apostolic consignment. They were the fine and good wares which they bring out from Europe, to sell in this

1 Cf. Voyages de M. du Quene, III, 15. Trans, from Hoensbroech, II, P- 91-

country, and they import as much as they can get on the ships at every outward sailing."

I must confess that I find no means of testing the accuracy of M. Martin's allegation. It may or it may not have been as he stated. However, as regards the allegation made about Jesuit trading in the Island of Martinique somewhat later, we know that it had to be frankly admitted by the Order. We know, too, that in 1622 Urban VIII issued a decree Ex Debito, forbidding Jesuits and other Orders to deal in trade and commerce, and that forty-seven years later Clement IX in renewing this decree in his Bull Sollicitudo names the Jesuits nine times and warns them against trade and commerce. This he would hardly have done had he not been convinced that they were guilty. In China the Jesuits lent money to a large extent, and defended themselves on the grounds that they only charged 24 per cent interest. In Cochin China, they had to be forbidden by a Papal Legate from carrying on their lucrative trade in drugs with the natives.

At the time of the Suppression the Order was "as a whole rich and opulent" (divitem et opulentam), according to Fr. Cordara, S.J. The Austrian State Officials at that time assessed the possessions of the Upper German Province at fifteen and a half million guldens and they found that this did not represent all the wealth of the Province as enormous sums had been funded outside the country, of which they traced four million guldens to Holland. Joseph ,11 of Austria counted on a personal profit of $10,000,000 from the Suppression. The French and Spanish Provinces were likewise exceedingly wealthy; and indeed the wealth of Jesuits was an embarrassment from the point of view of polemics. If they had admitted their wealth, they would have added plausibility to the argument that their enemies were incited against them through greed of gold, but on the other hand such an admission would have weakened their plea of immaculate virtue. They tried therefore to spread the report that "their enemies thought them to be rich, but that in reality they were poor," which is the plea of the Order to this day.

Some readers may be interested to know something of the actual

wealth of the Jesuits in the United States. It is beyond doubt

.very considerable, although it is difficult to estimate it accurately.

As regards real estate the Order is remarkably well off. The Park Avenue (No. 980) property; Fordham and Georgetown Universities; Boston College; Poughkeepsie; Woodstock; Weston; together with many colleges and estates in the South and West represent many millions of money. Counting some mission-stations, the Jesuits of this country own one hundred and sixty-five estates, very many of them being of enormous value, and the majority of them being free of taxes.

As regards income, besides the continuous stream of presents and offerings made at each of their shrines and churches, and the fees of their pupils and the receipts of their missionaries from sermons, retreats, triduums, missions, and so forth, there is a large revenue from masses. • Offerings for masses vary a great deal, from one dollar as a minimum to ten or twenty dollars. As an average five dollars approximates to the figure" received for each Jesuit mass. The smaller offerings are sent away to priests in other Orders. There are about fourteen hundred Jesuit priests belonging to the American Provinces and each says about three hundred stipend masses per annum. Hence, from this source of revenue alone there conies to the Order in all probability a few million dollars a year.

The profits of the pious publication, The American Messenger of the Sacred. Hearty is enormous, not only on account of its circulation of half a million, but on account of the numerous pious objects, pictures, medals, and so forth, that it is the means of selling. An active Jesuit has many sources of revenue. Besides his work, say, as a teacher, which represents revenue to his Superior, he gets money for masses, lectures, for occasional sermons, for visiting the sick, for "supply work," and for writing, if he does any writing. In addition he gets money presents from pious Catholics that he happens to meet. He may be handed, as I was by a Catholic friend, a fifty dollar bill to pay carfare; or he may be presented with a first-class automobile or motor-boat. Whatever the individual Jesuit receives, on no matter what stipulation, must go direct into the spacious maw of the Superior.

It is told of Saint Ignatius that on one occasion he instructed Fr. Lainez (who succeeded him as General of the Order), to "insinuate" to the wife of Duke Cosimo de Medici, his penitent, who was shortly to be confined, that it would be becoming for her to do

what the Queen of Portugal had done when in a like condition, namely to make a settlement of five hundred golden florins on a Jesuit college. The former, I think, had been rewarded for her generosity by having the blessing of twins.

This kind of Jesuit "insinuation" is still practised in various forms. A pious Jesuit lay-brother, whom I knew personally, drew a tidy revenue from the married women of the city in which he was living by an efficacious devotion that he invented. These ladies would come to him before confinement for his "remedy." The "remedy" consisted in his cutting up in small pieces a holy picture of the "Little Flower," which when stirred in a glass of water had to be swallowed by the expectant mother. Invariably the happiest results followed.

Jesuits will not, of course, admit that they are rich, although some' vain old Fathers seem rather flattered when they hear their high-born friends hinting at the hidden treasures of the Order. Usually Jesuits have recourse to the old argument. "Look at a Jesuit's room. How poor! How unfurnished! How empty! How can you say that Jesuits are rich?" This, however, is not a proof of the poverty of the Order but of its hypocrisy. The Jesuit who may only have a narrow strip of carpet and a few plain chairs in his own room, has only to take a few steps and he will find himself in lofty corridors, splendid halls, sumptuous libraries, or possibly in a delightful garden, all belonging to himself and his companions, situated probably in the most exclusive part of some modern city, where each square foot represents a fortune. Every comfort is his; the best clothes, food, and books that money can buy. If sick he has the best medical attendance in the finest hospitals. Every year he gets an expensive holiday at the seaside. He may, it is true, live in a poorly furnished sleeping-apartment, but it is in a house that equals in value and magnificence mediaeval palaces. For real poverty, like that of Bethlehem or Nazareth, one should not go to 980 Park Avenue, but to the slums along the East or North River.

It must be remembered, too, that an Order like the Jesuits goes on steadily increasing its wealth from year to year; accumulating capital, and investing the sums of money, often very large, that accrue to it from the new recruits, and from legacies. It is true that the Order has found that legacies often lead to unpleasant

publicity and legal complications, but it faces this unpleasantness bravely when the legacy is worth while, as in the Kennedy case in Dublin, some twenty years ago, or the celebrated De Boey case in Brussels in 1864.

I have referred more than once to pious publications of the Jesuits, which the Constitutions recommend so warmly as fostering devotion to the Sacred Heart and to the Blessed Virgin. Elsewhere I have pointed out that it would be more sincere if the Constitutions recommended these publications on the ground of their being productive of "material fruit." As they are so important a factor in Jesuit power, both on account of the publicity which they represent for the Order and as an avenue of pious trading, it may be well to give an illustration. I take as an example The Irish Messenger of the Sacred Heart (January, 1927). The circulation of this paper is about a quarter of a million; it may be more, but its exact circulation is a secret of Superiors. It consists of fifty small pages, of which nine fages are advertisements of Jesuit wares, and Jesuit organisations. There are two additional pages of testimonial letters about the Messenger, which conclude with a note from the Editor. c "We advise all those who have friends abroad to send them the little Irish Messenger. It will come to them like a ray of sunshine from the old land, and be a means of keeping them and their families faithful to God and to their religious duties. . . . The Messenger will be sent direct from the Messenger Office, */ you enclose the name with full address and yearly subscription"

Some of the "Ads" may perhaps be quoted. "All should wear the badge of the Sacred Heart which may be had at the Messenger Office, for 53. a 100 (large)" (p. 27). "Complete Consecration Sets (Oleograph picture, etc. . . .), price is. 6d." (p. 31). "Very handsome picture of St. Aloysius. . . . 2s. 6d. a 100" (p. 36). "An Ideal New Year's Gift. In response to numerous requests we have just had our beautiful oleograph 'picture of the Sacred Hearty with 'promise*} very handsomely framed in imitation rosewood and gold frame. . Price 4*. complete; safely packed between wooden boards and delivered at residence, 6/6" (p. 50). The "promises" referred to above contain one which guarantees salvation to every Catholic who does the "Nine First Fridays."

The Messenger advertises pieties of all kinds: Apostleship of

Prayer; Retreats; "Penny Dinners"; Crusaders of the Sacred Heart; Help for Holy Souls; Consecration of Families; Manuals; Medals; but there is something to sell in connection with each. It has one page "In Lighter Vein" (p. 32) ... which contains the following riddle . . . applicable perhaps to the sons of Ignatius. "What creature is the greatest traveler?" Answer: "The goldfish) because it thinks nothing of a trif around the globe"

The Jesuits are well aware of the power that accrues from publicity and advertising. They aim at splendour, gaudy splendour, in the architecture of their colleges and churches. They secure recognition from high functionaries, and at high functions. If possible they parade a Bernard Vaughan who represents them at court or at what corresponds to court, and who blows the trumpet for the Order. In the realm of piety they secured the canonisation of types of Saints; Aloysius and Berchmans to attract the young; Alphonsus Rodriguez to attract lay-brothers; Borgia to attract elderly nobles, and so forth. The mentality of the Order in this respect ^reminds one of what during the Great War was done by various Governments to attract recruits. The outstanding piece of Jesuit "publicity work," however, is due to Ignatius himself. It was the choice . of the name "Society of Jesus." Had Jesuits been called "Igna-y tians," they would never have climbed to the pinnacle of fame. Ignatius fully realised the value of this asset. "Even if all the brethren," he said, in regard to the name, Society of Jesus, "should wish to change it, and all others (except the Pope) should agree it ought to be changed, he would never consent because he had received such plain signs of God's approval of it that to give it up would be for him acting against God's will."

Jesuits employ as active means of publicity such congregations as "Children of Mary"; "Bona Mors"; "Apostleship of Prayer," and so forth. I do not, of course, wish to imply that they look uniquely or even principally to publicity in such works. But they most certainly use the associates of these organisations in spreading their influence and in enhancing their prestige. And some of these organisations are numerically enormous. Alumni Associations, attached to their various colleges, are also sources of power to the Order. Perhaps, however, from no other source do the Jesuits derive so much direct and loyal help as from Orders of Nuns such

as the Sacred Heart Nuns. These ladies spread Jesuit propaganda most effectively. If the Jesuits want the reputation of some one to be weakened or discredited, they have only to hint the matter to some friendly Nuns and the task is quickly and effectively accomplished. An instance of such co-operation may prove interesting. At the time I left the Order one of my patients was a teacher at a Sacred Heart Convent. She had come to me with her father's full approval. (Her father was a Protestant doctor.) As soon, however, as I quitted the Order, this lady was sent for by her Dean, a Sacred Heart Nun, and told that she would be instantly dismissed if she continued to seek treatment at my hands. Had this matter become public, and had legal proceedings followed, it might have been a "cause celebre."

The influence of the Order, even in quarters where it is disliked or despised, is surprisingly great. T^o illustrate this matter I shall refer to another incident that followed my break with the Jesuits. At the time an article which I had written was scheduled to appear in the October issue of the Catholic World, a review belonging to the Paulist Fathers. The article was already in type, and the editor, Fr. James M. Gillis, had written me, "I consider your article an extraordinarily fine description of the subject and I am very thankful to you for letting me have it" That was Sept. 4. . . . Ten days later the Paulist Superior General wrote me. "To my embarrassment I learned yesterday that you had withdrawn from the Jesuits in consequence of a difference of opinion with the Provincial. My embarrassment comes from the consciousness that a public pronouncement by you under our auspices will inevitably be regarded as an expression on our part concerning the merits of the dispute." He, therefore, asked me to cancel my engagement with Fr. Gillis, and also with another Paulist, Fr. Cronin, who had invited me to speak on the Paulist radio.

"Why do you take sides in a perfectly private dispute, why do you condemn me unheard?" I wrote to Fr. Gillis, adding at the end of my letter, "I should like if I have to write the history of this matter to be able to say that the Paulist Fathers refused to condemn me unheard." Poor Fr. Gillis "hastened to explain" that he had not "taken sides." "Indeed, it was precisely to avoid the appearance of 'taking sides' that we are adopting the course we have

taken" (Letter dated Sept. 17). Did Fr. Gillis realise that being unfaithful to his contract to publish the article he had accepted seemed very much more like "taking sides," than the keeping of his contract would have seemed? The trepidation of the Paulist Fathers must have amused their old enemies the Jesuits. But in any case it was some tribute to the power of the latter.

An interesting proof of Jesuit prestige and power in this country is the existence, in the shadow of the Capitol, at Washington, of the Jesuit School for Foreign Service, opened a few years ago through the instrumentality of an Irish-American, Fr. Edmund Walsh, S.J. At this school of diplomatic service, said to be the largest of its kind in America, young Americans are trained to guide the future fortunes of the Republic. Already several alumni of this school hold important positions in consulates throughout the world.

There is no small irony in the situation. Jesuits by rule are detached from love of country, and bound not to take sides in quarrels "that may chance to exist between Christian Princes and Lords." Each and every Jesuit Is bound under oath to obey the behests of his General at Rome, who at present happens to be a Pole, and who most p-obably will never be an American. It is quite within the power of the General to dictate the principles and theories to be taught by the Jesuits at Washington, and he actually insists on having a detailed account of all that is done and taught there sent to him at least twice every year.

I have no reason to doubt that American Jesuits are individually loyal to their country, but one cannot forget the words of the Pope, Clement XIV, who accused them of "rising u$ against the very kings who admitted them into their countries^ The fact remains, whatever interpretation may be put upon it, that the Jesuits have attained to such prestige and power in this country that they have been able to lay hands upon the most delicate and nationally important form of education, in spite of a record which little justifies confidence in their worthiness for such work. It is no doubt an edifying spectacle for other Orders to see Jesuits, who by rule "have nothing whatsoever to do with secular or political affairs," in charge of a school of diplomacy and foreign service.

The power of the Society of Jesus in the Catholic Church is be-

yond doubt enormous. It is said, apparently with truth, that the Jesuit General, the "Black Pope" as he is called, can make and unmake bishops and even cardinals. He has various agents and representatives within the walls of the Vatican, and he can gain the ear of the Pope whenever he wishes. He can always rely upon the accepted tradition of the orthodoxy of the Society, and if he has to unmake any enemy of the Order, he has the advantage of knowing that critics of the Order are looked upon at Rome as ipso facto suspect of heresy. Again and again the Society has been able to oppose successfully the plans and wishes of Popes. Just as the "permanent staff" at Whitehall is able to block the efforts of transient Ministers, so the Society which is perennial at Rome is able to block the efforts of passing Popes.

The secret, however, of the strength of the Society in the Catholic Church lies in the phrase used ; by Fr. Tyrrell, "ecclesia in ecclesia?' (a church within a church). In this pregnant phrase the position of the Society is summed up. The Order is to the Church what the Church is to the world. The Order is a kind of parasite sucking the vital power of the Church. It has grown fat upon the spoils of the Church. In the case of nuns, for instance, most of the influence they win by their labours is controlled by the Jesuits. Any accretion to their power expands the power of the Jesuits. According as the discipline of the Church as a whole increases, the Society finds it easier to gain its ends. It holds the confidence and consciences of so many bishops, cardinals, and prelates; gives so many priests and nuns retreats; directs, through its theologians, so many pious organisations; in fine, works in so many ways on the functionaries of the Church, that it has become as it were an inner circle in the Church. It has made the Church more reactionary, and more absolutist, through centralisation. It has aimed not unsuccessfully at the Jesuitising of the Church. It has made the Pope more and more like its own autocratic General; and has reduced the bishops more and more to the status of Provincials in the Society who are officials nominated by and controlled by the General, without any inherent authority.

The Society has been able, wherever it determined to do so, to worm its way into the heart of affairs. We have just seen how it has made itself count in Washington, by its school of Foreign

Service. It had less difficulty in making itself count at Rome, and in winning the position of tyrece^tor morum of the Catholic Church. So to speak, it regards it as its right and duty to keep the Church in order, to direct its spirit, to chaperon the Popes, to fulfil its divine mission of ruling the Church from without and from within. It is the supreme manifestation of its Superiority Complex. Itself, it is ex lex. It gets itself dispensed from every enactment of Canon Law, or General Council, or Papal Decree that impinges on its "revealed" Constitutions. It interferes in everything. It admonishes every one. It denounces whatever it disapproves of. One thing it never has done, and apparently never will do, and that is "toe the line" with other Orders of the Church.

The power that the Order wields in Protestant countries is surprising. In England, where the Catholic population is only six or eight per cent of the whole, the Jesuits have no small influence in affairs of state. They took pains to flatter Queen Victoria, and when Edward VII was on the throne, they exercised power over him through Fr. Bernard Vaughan.

In Protestant Prussia, under the Kaiser, Jesuits could bring pressure to bear and thwart that autocrat's wishes. The story told by Count von Hoensbroech is very clear proof of this fact.

After leaving the Jesuit Order, Hoensbroech was anxious to enter the State Service in Prussia, and the Imperial Chancellor, Count Caprivi, was approached on his behalf. Meanwhile, however, the Jesuits had advised the Centre Party (the Catholic Party) about this move of their ex-member Hoensbroech, and they brought pressure to bear on Caprivi. The latter therefore refused the request made on behalf of Hoensbroech, saying: "What would the Holy Father in Rome and the Centre Party say if we were to employ Count Hoensbroech in the State Service?"

In the February following, 1895, the Count was invited by Imperial Command to a court ball, held in the White Hall of Berlin Castle. He was informed that the Kaiser was anxious to meet him. The Kaiser conversed with him for half an hour to the great annoyance of Lieber, the leader of the Centre Party. When the Kaiser asked Count Hoensbroech what he intended to do, the latter told him of Caprivi's remark. The Kaiser took a step back, put his hand to his sword, and exclaimed excitedly, "What, did Caprivi say that?"

"Yes, your Majesty," replied Hoensbroech. "Well, my dear Count" said the Kaiser, "then I assure you that from this time forward I shall take your affairs Into my own hands" The Kaiser promised to give Hoensbroech a private interview in order to have fuller information about him.

Lieber, the Catholic leader, got to work at once and the Catholic papers raised an outcry against "the extraordinary circumstance" of the Kaiser's invitation to Hoensbroech. Lukanus, the Kaiser's Chamberlain, meanwhile, for some mysterious reason, kept postponing the private audience on various pretexts. A promise reached Hoensbroech from the Kaiser that he would be appointed head of a district (Landrat), and the Minister of the Interior hinted to Hoensbroech that it would be advisable for him to go to Kiel and to get acquainted with that district. Hoensbroech went to live there, but the private audience was still delayed.

Finally, in January, 1896, through the office of his friend, General Field Marshal Count Waldersee, the long promised audience was arranged. The Kaiser received Hoensbroech very graciously, opening the interview with the words, "I have asked you here to learn your opinion about the attitude of my government towards the Centre Party?" A long conversation ensued but the Kaiser said never a word about the appointment he had promised, but when parting told Hoensbroech that "Lukanus would tell him everything else."

Lukanus, however, had only to inform him that an appointment as Landrat or anything else of the kind was absolutely impossible.

What lay behind all this? Later pn Hoensbroech found out that the Centre Party had told the Minister for War that should a State appointment be given to Hoensbroech y the ex-Jesuit, the -party would vote against the next naval estimates! The Minister for War had informed the Kaiser, who answered, "If matters stand thus I shall let the man drop." The autocratic Kaiser had crossed swords with the Jesuits, outlaws though they were in his kingdom, and had been worsted!

It was not, however, at the Royal Court alone that Jesuit influence prevailed. When Dr. Bosse, the Minister of Public Instruction, was approached by Hoensbroech, it was the old story again. "What a storm the Centre Party would raise In Parliament" said Dr. Bosse,

"were I to consent to your appointment as lecturer (in Berlin University), or even advocate it!" Hoensbroech's reply was stinging but useless. "Your Excellency, until to-day I should not have thought that a Minister in a land of religious equality like Prussia would thus give way before the troops of Rome." A request of Hoensbroech to Prince Hohenlohe for admission into the diplomatic service met with a similar refusal. In Protestant Prussia the Jesuits were victorious all along the line!

-It will perhaps surprise many people to know that the Jesuits exercised considerable influence on the destiny of some nations, during the Great War. How far they influenced the policy of Spain I do not know. If they threw their weight into the neutrality policy of Spain it was all to their credit; most people now recognise that Spain acted wisely in keeping out of the maelstrom. As regards Belgium, it is commonly believed that it was the Jesuit counsellor of King Albert who finally persuaded him to take up arms to resist the German invasion. Albert's government had been far from unanimous on the wisdom of the policy of armed resistance. In Ireland, the Jesuits exercised what the people in general regarded as a sinister influence on the fortunes of the country. It may be remembered that 'Sinn Fein' had set up a provisional government which was recognised by about 85 per cent of the people as the de jure government of the country. But there was one weakness in this very serious form of make-believe. It was that the Catholic bishops held back and refused to sanction the movement or to recognise the People's Government. Had the Catholic bishops joined in with their people, nothing could have prevented the Irish Nation from attaining its independence, and probably without any serious bloodshed or destruction of property. The Sinn Fein movement was essentially a pacifist movement relying on moral force. But without the co-operation of the bishops it was hopeless to try to hold the people together long enough to secure victory. Why did not the bishops join in? The answer to this question is found in their subservience to the advice of their Jesuit theologian, Fr. Peter Finlay.

It is the fashion, nowadays, to criticise the chauvinism of the extremists in every country who fanned the flames of hate during the war, and who goaded their governments to more and more cruelty

and vindictiveness. Among the chauvinists of France, England and other countries were to be found Jesuits, men who by profession, and in virtue of the name they bore, should have been the advocates of peace. But they were carried away by their old craving for popularity and power. They desired the prestige that at the time was only accorded to the "die-hard" elements of the nations. They strove to out-do all others in militaristic propaganda. In France, to win popularity, they recalled their missionaries from the Far East in order that by decorating their religious habits with German blood, the people might be pleased. No weaker, more unchristian, or more shortsighted conduct ever disgraced a religious Order. In England, Fr. Bernard Vaughan, the spokesman of the Order, in public speeches urged his fellow countrymen to "exterminate the rats" (the Germans, Austrians, etc.). The war gave the Jesuits an excellent opportunity of showing! 'whether or not, as they had always pretended, they were super-Christians. They failed lamentably to establish their claim.

CHAPTER XI

A CALUMNY AGAINST THE JESUITS

"PERHAPS the commonest libel formulated against the Society," writes Fr. T. J. Campbell, S.J., 1 "is the accusation that it is the teacher, if not the author of the immoral maxim: c the end justifies the means,' which signifies that an action bad in itself becomes good if performed for a good purpose. If the Society ever taught this doctrine, at least it cannot be charged with having the monopoly of it. Thus, for instance, the great Protestant empire which is the legitimate progeny of Martin Luther's teaching, proclaimed to the world that the diabolical f frightfulness' which it employed in the late war was prompted solely by its desire for peace. . . . Finally, every unbiassed mind will concede that the persistent use of poisoned gas by the foes of 'the Society is nothing else than a carrying out of the maxim of c the end justifies the means.' It has been proved, times innumerable, that this odious doctrine was never taught by the Society, and the average Jesuit regards each recrudescence of the charge as an insufferable annoyance, and usually takes no notice of it."

The proof that Fr. Campbell adduces to show that the Society never taught the doctrine must be considered perfectly satisfactory. Agajn and again, Jesuit Superiors (in spite of the poverty of the Order), have offered very large sums of money to any one who should point out in the writings of the Order approval of or assent to the doctrine in question. But, although many attempted to do so, including the learned ex-Jesuit, Count von Hoensbroech, none succeeded. It is only fair, therefore, to admit that the Society has proved its point, namely, that it never taught the maxim "the end justifies the means." One must hope that this odious charge will never again be made, and that Fr. Campbell's fears that "it may again be heard of at any moment" will not be realised.

* History of the Jeswts, p. 287.

While it should be accepted as true, therefore, that the Society never taught that the "end justifies the means," it remains to be seen whether or not the Society ever "carried out" this doctrine in practice, for it is only right to accept the distinction which Fr. Campbell makes in the passage quoted above, between "teaching" and "carrying out" the doctrine. He takes, as an example of "carrying out" the doctrine "the persistent use of poisoned gas" (calumny, etc.), and if it were possible to show that the Society availed itself of such a means in its polemics, it would be true to say that it "carried out the maxim of the end justifying the means."

Jesuits, being the "close followers of Jesus Christ," would naturally be expected to "love their enemies" as Christ taught, and anything in the nature of using poisoned gas against enemies would be particularly unseemly in them, as well as being the "carrying out of the maxim that the end justifies the means."

Now, the Society regards its critics, and especially its ex-Jesuit critics, as its enemies, and it will be apropos to examine how it speaks of them. We take Fr. Campbell and Fr. Pollen as examples, as they are the most recent writers on Jesuit History who have addressed themselves to the American public.

Fr. Campbell, in the paragraph following that quoted above, refers to his ex-brother Jesuit, Hoensbroech, as follows: "Over and above this, he (Hoensbroech) was somewhat disqualified as a witness, inasmuch as he not only had left the Society but had apostatised from the faith, and though a priest had married a wife; he was, moreover, notorious as a rancorous Lutheran (Civilta Cattolica, an. 56, p. 8), but the lure of the florins led him on." Most people would regard this passage as containing "poisoned gas," and the reference to Civilta Cattolica, the Jesuit Papal Organ at Rome, shows that in high Jesuit quarters the example of vilifying Hoensbroech had been set.

Fr. Pollen z refers to ex-Jesuits as "the most embittered and untrustworthy enemies of the Society"; and to critics in general thus: "It is notoriously impossible to expect that anti-Jesuit writers of our day should face their subject in a common-sense or scientific way." He adds that the accusation that Jesuits use the maxim, "the end justifies the means," is "perhaps the most salient instance of the

2 C/. Catholic Encyclopedia.

ignorance or illwill of their accusers." In fine, as we have elsewhere seen, he uses against the critics of the Order, a quotation from Ambrose. "He in truth is impugned in vain who is accused of impiety by the impious and the faithless."

Returning now to the more general question, does the Society use "means" which are "bad in themselves" to bring about good "ends"? If so it stands convicted of "carrying out" in practice, though not teaching the maxim, "the end justifies the means."

If, for instance, in order to advance its own interests, or to facilitate its work, it should violate fundamental and inalienable rights of individuals, it would be using means bad in themselves for a good end (or an end supposed to be good). But does the Society do anything of the sort?

Let us first turn to the manner in which the "lay-brothers" in the Order are treated. Lay-brothers are admitted to do domestic work, and are not destined for ordination. They have, of course, to make their Noviceship. They take perpetual vows. They are in every sense Jesuits. But the treatment meted out to them is, in general, atrocious. They are kept in severe subjection, and must work continuously, without stopping, save for brief periods for meals, recreation, and prayers. Their life is the life of slaves, monotonous, dreary, and lonely. And a special "mortal sin" was discovered for them, namely that of formally refusing to obey the priest in charge of them, even though he should not command them solemnly.

But apart from the general harshness of their lives they are subject to the Fourteenth Common Rule which reads as follows, and which will no doubt cause surprise to many.

"None of those who are admitted into the Society for domestic service may learn to read or write y or If they have any learning, may they increase it. No one without the General's permission may teach them anything. They must be content to serve the Lord Christ in holy simplicity and humility."

Now, one can quite understand how advantageous to the Society it may be to have domestic Jesuits, wholly bereft of all learning, and incapable of finding interest in anything outside their sweeping, cleaning, and message-running. And one can admit that the good end of the Order as a whole is secured all the better by such a

state of things. But, on the other hand, if one regards the right to use one's intellect and mental faculties as an inalienable and fundamental right of every human, then it would seem that it is a bad action, an evil means, to deprive the human of such a right. And, when the Society does precisely this, is it not "carrying out the odious doctrine that the end justifies the means"?

Let me here interrupt the course of my argument to record an "edifying incident," for it was told as such by my Novice Master. There was, not many decades ago, a saintly but stern Superior in the English Province of the Society who was unfortunate in having in his community lay-brothers who were imbued with a spirit that was not "the true spirit of the Society." They were discontented, and on one occasion went so far as to hold a meeting in their "recreation-room" to discuss their rights. Information about this meeting reached the ears of the Superior, and while they were still in conclave the door suddenly opened and he burst into the room. "What are you doing here?" he cried. "We are discussing our rights," answered one of the conspirators. "Rights!" exclaimed the Superior, "you have no rights but hell-fire," and with that he drove them out. of the room like frightened sheep.

Whether or not it is lawful to secure by legislation the keeping of human adults in a state of "infantile mentality" may not be quite certain. To the writer at least it seems that humans have an inalienable and fundamental right, as well as a duty, to know and to think, and in these days there is no adequate road to knowing and thinking save through reading and through books. And so it seems to the writer that the Society's practice of forbidding lay-brothers to learn is a violation of rights, and a means evil in itself, that no good end can justify.

But it is not lay-brothers alone who are coerced in such matters. All Jesuits are coerced in the matter of thinking, investigating, and reading. Let us quote, at the risk of wearisome repetition, from the Epitome of the Revised Jesuit Constitutions. 8

"Sedulous and constant care must be taken in general that 'Ours 1 be preserved unharmed from intemperate study of modern ideas (novitatum), and from dangerous freedom of thought.

i. That an opinion may be put forth freely, it is not enough

8 Sec. 319.

that it be not condemned, but great care must be taken that it be in accord with the clearly expressed mind of the Church, and of the Apostolic See, and of the doctrines of the Fathers, and the teachings of the Catholic doctors approved by common consent.

2. Nothing new may be proposed which is not wholly in accord with Christian faith and piety, or which can deservedly offend the faithful, or which be not proven by serious reasons. Even if no danger to faith or piety underlie the matter, in things of any moment, no one without consulting Superiors shall introduce new questions or any opinion which is unsanctioned by an approved authority."

"Books and commentaries of non-Catholics are to be used only with the greatest caution"; "no one may imprudently praise writers who are rationalists, or hostile to the Church, or whose doctrine is suspect, but rather, all must seize opportune occasions for quoting Catholic writers with praise."

Elsewhere the rules governing the use of books are given. In general they restrict reading to ultra-orthodox authors. It has been pointed out, too, that in philosophy Aristotle, and in theology Thomas Aquinas are to be faithfully adhered to. And as the 4yth Decree of the Third General Congregation declared: "Ours must so teach philosophy as to make it the slave and servant (ancillari et subservire) of scholastic theology which the Constitutions enjoin upon us." Liberty of thought in teaching is taboo in the Order. Hence, 4 "If Superiors shall discover any professors to be inclined towards dangerous. novelties, they must admonish them seriously, and if they do not mend their ways, they must be removed from their office of teaching, etc., and the Superiors must not hesitate to threaten other punishments according to the gravity of their fault." Coercion of thought being thus the "means" the Society employed for gaining its good ends, we cannot be surprised that St. Francis Xavier, S.J., should have written to the King of Portugal recommending the "only way" to convert the Indians. "The King should take a solemn oath that if any Governor did not make many converts, he would have him put in irons and kept long years in prison with confiscation of all his goods. ... If every Governor *Cf. Epit. 321.

was very certain that this oath of your Majesty would be kept, the Island of Ceylon, many Kings of Malabar, and the Cape of Comorin would be Christian in a year."

It is an easy step from coercion of thought to approval of the punishment, even the capital punishment, of wrong-thinkers (heretics). And it is an easy matter to find Jesuit theologians who believed in the rectitude of putting heretics to death. "The crime of heresy," wrote Fr. Wenig, S.J., 1866, "can only be meetly atoned for and entirely prevented from injuring the ecclesiastical and civil community by capital punishment. . . . We have seen that the Ecclesiastical Inquisition cannot agree with the modern ideas as to toleration, enlightenment, and humanity, but for all that I cry, 'Long live the Ecclesiastical Inquisition.' " 5

The Order went even farther than approving the execution of heretics. They regarded such events as edifying spectacles and we find in the original "Ratio Studiorum" the following regulation. "Students must not go to public exhibitions, comedies or plays, nor to the execution of criminals, except those of heretics"

If, as we suppose, coercion of thought is an "evil means," to what depths of wickedness has not the Society plunged? Not only are lay-brothers prevented from using their intellects, and other Jesuits restricted in the use of theirs, but even those outside the Order are encouraged to take the most extreme steps to force thinking into orthodox channels, and the spectacle of shedding of the blood of heretics was at one time recommended as a pious recreation for Jesuit pupils.

There were, according to documents at present in the Munich State Archives, certain Jesuit ordinances ruling procedure against Jesuit pupils suspected of witchcraft and magic. Jesuits did not approve of extreme measures or extreme punishments against those suspected of such deviltry; only ordinary punshments were to be used in extorting answers. But one can imagine that these were not negligible. "In order to get at the truth no punishments other than the customary ones must be resorted to in our schools, nor must there be any threat of torture or any other severe penalty except for those on whom grave suspicion lies. Those who insist firmly on

6 Uber die kirchliche wnd politische Inquisition, 1875, pp. 65 seq.

their innocence are to be most carefully watched to see how they conduct themselves and with whom they hold converse." 6

Coercion of thought and expression, as implied in such an ordinance as I have just quoted, is no longer practised by the Order, possibly for the reason that science has replaced witches riding the sky on broomsticks by aeroplanes and airships. But precisely the same spirit still actuates the Order, and guides its conduct in other matters. In the censorship of books written by Jesuits, to take one example, the old principles are still applied.

When a Jesuit writes a book, let us suppose a work on science, his MS. is sent by Superiors to three or in certain cases four other Jesuits, whom he does not know and who are supposed not to know him. They can forbid the publication of the book or indicate certain changes that must be made. Unless he makes these changes his book may not be published. He may entirely disagree with the views thus foisted upon him but he has no alternative but to submit. His book when it does appear will therefore not necessarily express his own findings or opinions, but it will express such of his findings and opinions as are pleasing to Superiors, minus those which displease Superiors, and in addition, certain other things, possibly very contrary to his views, which however the Superiors consider should be inserted.

A Jesuit scientist, therefore, can never freely publish his real opinions on scientific questions. He cannot deliver himself of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He has to play the role of co-operating in a subtle form of deception, or else bury himself for ever in silence. The Order has no doubt a high and holy "end" in view, the edification of the faithful, but whether the "means" which it employs to this "end" is good or bad, and whether or not it carries out in practice the odious maxim, "the end justifies the means," must be left to the reader to decide.

There is a kind of deception employed by the Order, very wide in scope, and very serious in nature, that is no doubt practised for a very high motive, but which is none the less indefensible unless one employs the principle that "the end justifies the means." This deception is the misrepresentation by means of which novices are encouraged to take perpetual vows and enter the Society. What-? J. Friedrich, Beitr'dge zur Geschichte des Jesuitemrdens, Munich, 1881.

ever be said to the contrary notwithstanding, Jesuit novices are not given a true picture of the Society which they are encouraged to join. Almost everything is misrepresented; if not actually distorted it is put in such a light that novices do not grasp the real nature of things. Surely it is obvious that novices about to bind themselves by perpetual vows should be fully and frankly put in possession of all the facts, good and bad, that pertain to the difficulties of the life before them.

I am ready to admit that a certain amount of information is given them but the information given is utterly inadequate. Novices are worked up to a highly emotional religious fervour, and while in this state they are incapable of weighing calmly and coolly the -pros and cons. If it is hinted that "sometimes disedifying things happen, even in the Society, and that sometimes there is harshness and unfairness on the part of Superiors," that is not sufficient. Any one might know that fervent novices will argue thus: "Such things of course must happen but they hardly ever happen in so holy an Order as the Jesuits. And, please God, they will never happen again. And, anyhow, as Father Master told us, every one who dies in the Society will be saved. So, what matter about a few little imperfections?"

Nothing is said to the novices about the kind of topics discussed in this book. A book of this kind, that pries into the principles that rule the Order, and that aims at giving an insight into actual life in the Order, would not be allowed in the novices' library. Novices enter "the Order of their dreams" not the Order as It is, and one cannot but sympathise with such men as Fr. George Tyrrell, who in later years come to realise that they are not, before God, bound by vows which they had made under the influence of "substantial" deception.

Personally I am perfectly sure that had I realised the hardness and worldliness of the secret government that functions in the Order, I should not have dreamed of becoming a Jesuit. But the deception of novices will continue and the Order will justify it on the grounds that God's Glory demands a plentiful supply of Jesuit recruits.

We have now to consider a very questionable policy of the Order, a policy which the Order calls into play when it is faced

with some grave danger or scandal, it is that of making a scapegoat of one of its members. This "means" is akin to that of "using poisoned gas" which Fr. Campbell takes as a carrying out of the good-end, bad-means maxim. That Jesuits are capable of having recourse to such methods is easily provable. Count von Hoensbroech relates 7 that on one occasion he went with Fr. Tilmann Pesch, afterwards a Jesuit Provincial, to a political meeting of German Catholic leaders, Prince Lowenstein, Baron Von Loe, Windthorst, and others. In the course of discussion the name of a Protestant Professor, Dr. Beyschlag of Halle, cropped up. He was causing the Catholics much trouble and there was question of how best to deal with him. Then Fn Pesch, S.J., made a suggestion, apparently to Hoensbroech's great embarrassment. "Is there no means of attacking him in his private life?"

This dishonorable strategy is employed, not only against non-Catholics, and Catholics outside the Order; it is also employed when a subject Jesuit is made a scapegoat for the whole Order. The name of Mariana is well known to Catholic theologians. He was a Spanish Jesuit of the sixteenth century, one of the most brilliant ornaments of the Order, but destined to bring much trouble upon it. In the year 1598, he published a work in which among other things he discussed the question of the legitimacy of killing tyrants.

The book passed the censors of the Order. "I, Stephen Hojeda, Visitator of the Society of Jesus for the Province of Toledo, under the seal of special authority from our General, give permission that the three books Concerning the King and his Education' written by Fr. John Mariana of the same Society, may be published because they have been previously sanctioned by learned and distinguished men of our Order."

- Now, in the sixth chapter of this book there occurred the following passage referring to the murder of Henry III, King of France: "He (Clement) bought the liberty of his country and nation by his blood. He rejoiced exceedingly in spite of blows and wounds. He won a great name through the murder of the King. ... Thus died Clement, France's everlasting glory as most 'people believe" Mariana, in teaching the lawfulness of killing tyrants, had in view 7 Fourteen Years a Jesuit, Vol. II, p. 375.

not only usurpers but also legitimate princes who rule tyrannically.

When the murder of Henry IV by Ravaillac occurred in May, 1610, France grew wildly excited against the Jesuits on account of the Mariana doctrine which was commonly taught by the Order, and his book was publicly burned by the hangman in Paris. The Order then proceeded to disown the doctrine and the General Ac-quaviva issued a threat of excommunication against any Jesuit who should teach that "any person is permitted under any pretext of tyranny to kill Kings or Princes or to contrive their death."

We now come to the Jesuit method of exonerating the Order. Mariana had hitherto been highly esteemed, and had been put forward by the Order as its representative at the Court of Philip II. But, at all costs he had now to be shown to be "not one of Ours."

We turn to Fr. Campbell:

"Now, Mariana never was and never could be a representative of the Society for first, sixteen years before the objectionable book attracted notice in France, namely in 1584, Mariana had been solemnly condemned by the greatest assembly of the Society, the General Congregation, as an unworthy son, a pestilential member who should be cut off from the body, and his expulsion was ordered. He was one of the leaders of the band of Spanish (Jesuit) Conspirators who did all in their power to destroy the Society. Secondly, his expulsion did not take place, possibly because of outside political influence, like that of Philip II and the Inquisition. Nevertheless, in 1605, tnat is ^ ve years before the French flurry, he wrote another book entitled De Defectibus Societatis (Concerning the Defects of the Society), which was condemned as involving the censure of the papal Bull 'Ascendente Domino. 9 Instead of destroying the MS., as he should have done, if he had a spark of loyalty in him, he kept it, and when, in 1609, he was arrested and imprisoned by the Spanish authorities for his book on Finance which seemed to reflect on the Government, that MS. was seized and subsequently served as a strong weapon against the Society. Why should such a man be cited as the representative of a body from which he was ordered to be expelled and which he had attempted to destroy?" 8

The fact that the Society of Jesus was in such a disorganised 8 The Jesuits, pp. 274-5.

state that even a General Congregation could not command obedience, and that "political influence" from outside dominated its conduct, does not detract from the fact that it officially authorised the publication of the ill-omened book of its "pestilential member," Mariana. And unless the mentality of the Order has very much changed in the meantime, Mariana's book must have been all the more carefully censored on account of the fact that he had been a cause of trouble. Indeed, one may fairly conclude that the Society was in a very special way responsible for its publication. -

There is irony in the remark of the German Jesuit Lehmkuhl, 9 "He (Mariana) is one of the most maligned members of the Jesuit Order!"

Let us turn now to the case of Fr. Antoine la Valette, S.J., whose commercial enterprises in the Island of Martinique, in the middle of the eighteenth century, were the occasion of the final expulsion of the Jesuits from France. "The Jesuit missionaries," writes Fr. J. H. Pollen, S.J., 10 "held a heavy stake in Martinique. They did not and could not trade, that is, buy cheap to sell dear, any more than any other religious. But they did sell the products of their great mission farms in which many natives were employed, and this was allowed, partly to provide for the current expenses of the mission, partly in order to protect the simple childlike natives from the common plague of dishonest intermediaries. Pere Antoine la Valette, Superior of the Martinique mission, managed these transactions with no little success, and success encouraged him to go too far. He began to borrow money to work the large undeveloped resources of the colony" In 1755 the English fleet captured his ships, his bankers at Marseilles failed, and he found himself bankrupt to the extent of about half a million dollars. The Jesuits in France repudiated responsibility for the debt. Privileges were pleaded in the French courts, but 'finally the Parlement of Paris ordered the Society to pay. This it was perfectly well able to dp. Even Cretineau-Joly, the Jesuit's historian, admitted that they were worth at least eleven and a half million dollars. Had they paid la Valette's debt at once they would have escaped expulsion, but their attitude in refusing to do so enraged all France and

9 Catholic Encyclopedia "Mariana."

10 Cf. Catholic Encyclopedia "The Society."

afforded their enemies an excellent opportunity of getting rid of them.

Now the defence the Order set up was to throw all the responsibility on la Valette and to make a scapegoat of him. It was pretended that all his trading transactions were carried on without the knowledge of the Order. In 1762, Fr. de la Marche, S.J., concluded his investigations on behalf of the Society and his findings were as follows: (I) That la Valette had given himself up to trading in defiance of Canon Law and the special laws of the Society. (2) That he had concealed his proceedings from the higher Superiors of the Society and even from the Fathers of Martinique. (3) That his acts had been denounced by Superiors not only as soon as they were made known but as soon as they were suspected. La Marche added recommendations for la Valette's recall and punishment. /!.

This report quite obviously had in view the exculpation of the Society. On the face of it, it was quite impossible for la Valette to carry on his gigantic trading ventures without the knowledge of, at least, his fellow Jesuits at Martinique. How could he hide his works on the "large undeveloped resources of the colony" from those who were living with him? But we find a perfectly definite refutation of this effort to shield "higher Superiors," who pretended that they knew nothing of la Valette's activities prior to his failure. In Fr. J. H. Pollen's note on the Jesuit General Visconti, who died, In 1755, before la Valette's eclipse, we find the following: "It was during his generalate that the accusations of trading were first made against Pere Antoine la Valette^ who was recalled from Martinique in 1753 to justify his conduct. Shortly before dying Fr. Visconti allowed him to return to his mission."

The report therefore of la Marche was utterly dishonest. As early as 1753 Superiors must have had knowledge of what was going on in Martinique, but most probably they "formed their consciences" to wink at the profitable enterprises that alike benefited the Society, and protected the interests of "the simple childlike natives."

La Valette generously shouldered the blame, and for reward was expelled from the Order. He died in England, a scapegoat of the Jesuits, perhaps worthy of the name of a martyr of charity,

but his sacrifice did not save the Order from its doom. The Jesuits were driven from France and their enormous wealth confiscated.

The end in view in making a scapegoat of Mariana was to save the good name of the Order for sound teaching, and the end in view in the case of la Valette was to save the good name of the Order for honesty. While we may grant that in each instance the "end" was good, can we so easily grant that the "means" were just?

We now have to consider one of those important but peculiar incidents of Jesuit history, little creditable to the Society, that would never have been heard of did not a strong and honest Jesuit, in this case Pere de Ravignan, insist on telling the truth. The incident has to do with the signing of a declaration of heresy by the Provincial of the Paris Province, Pere de la Croix, and one hundred and fifteen other Jesuits, many of whom were Superiors, on December 19, 1761.

The document, given in full by Fr. Campbell, 11 read as follows:

"We, the undersigned . . . declare:

(1) That it is impossible to be more submissive than we are, or more inviolably attached to the laws, maxims and usages of this kingdom with regard to the royal power, which in temporal matters depends neither directly nor indirectly from any power on earth, and has God alone above it. Recognising tl^at the bonds by which subjects are attached to their rulers are indissoluble, we condemn as pernicious and worthy of execration at all times every doctrine contrary to the safety of the King, not only in the works of some theologians of our Society (poor Mariana!), but also those of every other theologian whosoever he be.

(2) We shall teach in our public and private lessons of theology the doctrine established by the clergy of France in the four articles of the Assembly of 1682, and shall teach nothing contrary to it. (These were the condemned Gallican Articles.)

(3) We recognise that the Bishops of France have the right to exercise in our regard what according to the Canons of the Gallican Church belongs to them in their dealings with Regulars; and we renounce all the privileges to the contrary that may have been ac-

11 Page 491.

corded to our Society or may be accorded in the future (poor Society!).

(4) //, which may God forbid , it happens that we are ordered, by our General to do anything contrary to the 'present declaration, persuaded as we are that we cannot obey without sin, we shall regard such orders as unlawful, and absolutely null and void; which we could not and should not obey in virtue of the rules of obedience to the General such as is prescribed in the Constitutions. We therefore beg that the present declaration may be placed on the official register of Paris, and addressed to the other Provinces of the kingdom, so that this same declaration signed by us, being deposited in the official registers of each diocese may serve as a perpetual memorial of our fidelity.

ETIENNE DE LA CROIX, Provincial."

'•'. By this declaration the French Jesuits hoped to appease the anger

of the Parlement and to stave off the evil day of expulsion. But their hopes were disappointed, and their shameful surrender proved vain. They had, by signing this document, abandoned the doctrine of Rome with regard to the Gallican Church, and thrown over the most sacred principle of their own Institute. "In my eyes" wrote Pere de Ravignan, S.J., "nothing can. excuse this act of weakness. I deplore it. I condemn it" Then he refers to the explanation of his conduct which de la Croix sent to the General, which letter^ adds de Ravignan, is in the Jesuit archives at Rome. Cretineau-Joly also admits the signing of the "Declaration," but Fr. Pollen, who objected to Harnack's remark that "Jesuits were not historians," deliberately ignores the incident. Fr. Campbell feels himself bound to face the "unpleasant task" of contesting de Ravigrian's authority. His argument is, in general, that "Jesuits could not do such a thing, and therefore they did not do it." "It is inconceivable that those same men (the French Jesuits), at that very same time, should solemnly declare themselves rebels against the General at Rome." 12 But had not the Spanish Jesuits done as much in Acquaviva's time for less serious reasons, though also at a King's behest?

Fr. Campbell's crowning proof that de la Croix and the others were not traitors to the Church and the Order is that "La Croix

" Page 495-

was not only not excelled but was retained In his responsible fast." But, have we not seen, a few pages back, in the case of Mariana, that at times even General Congregations are unable to expel "pestilential Jesuits," and that such Jesuits are even allowed, though still under an expulsion order, to fulfil the "responsible post" of publishing theological works, and representing the Society at the court of Kings?

Needless to say the Society thought it best to cover up as quickly and completely as possible this "wholesale, corporate and deliberate crime of cowardice and treason." 1S

Jesuits have gained the reputation of delighting to skate on thin ice in moral matters. Again and again they have been accused of laxity of doctrine. Not only did they deliberately adopt the theory of "probabilism," but they made it the official doctrine of the Order, and as we have seen, when Thyrsus Gonzalez was elected General in 1687, and published a book against "probabilism" there was a veritable outburst of indignation throughout the Order. The theory of "probabilism" was pushed to extremes by the Jesuits, and was used as a means of increasing their popularity with penitents, for relying on "probabilism" many things become permissible which otherwise would have to be forbidden. One truly probable opinion allowing a certain course of action was considered sufficient to justify one in pursuing that course of action, even though all the opinions of all other theologians condemned and forbade it. It was a risky doctrine, but the "end" in view, the propagation of the faith, was good. And so the Jesuits went ahead and taught and 'practised "probabilism"

Needless to say there were honest Jesuits who protested very vigorously against this subservience of the means to the end. But they were regarded as disgruntled Jesuits, and their influence was nil. One of these, Fr. Camargo, S.J., sent a memorial in October, 1706, to Pope Clement XI:

"How many contradictions, dangers and difficulties I and all the others experienced, who, in the direction of conscience, reject the common rule of probabilism so universally diffused throughout Spain, God alone knows and it sounds incredible. Morals have grown so lax that in practice scarcely anything is regarded as not per-18 Fr. Campbell's words.

mitted. . . . Not only among the people, but also among confessors, preachers, and professors does the opinion prevail that we commit no sin, if we believe while acting that we are acting rightly, or are in doubt about the matter. ... I know not through what mysterious or at any rate, terrible decree of God it has come about that this moral doctrine, which is so hateful to the Apostolic See and so contrary to Christian morality, has found such favour among the Jesuits, that they still defend it, while elsewhere it is scarcely tolerated, and not a few Jesuits believe themselves bound to defend it as one of the doctrines of the Order. It is regrettable that the enemies of the Society can, without untruth, reproach it as being the only apologist for probabilism, which is the source of all laxity and corruption of morals, and has been condemned almost expressly by the Apostolic See, and even promote and spread it with zeal." 14

The Jesuit proclivity to employ "probabilism" naturally inclined them to develop the art of mental reservation, more commonly called equivocation. As the basis of "mental reservation" we find once more a certain indifference to "means" provided the end in view be good and lawful. A man of simple, homely ethics prefers to blurt out the truth and take the consequences than to effect an escape through equivocation, whether it be allowable to equivocate or not. But such simple, homely ethics are not the ethics of the Jesuit Order. Back-door ethics, If the expression is not too strong, make more affleal to the highly trained Jesuit moralist.

A quotation from the Jesuit theologian Delrio, called by Justus Lipsius "the miracle of his age," who professed theology in Douai, Liege, Louvain, Graz, and Salamanca, may be given to illustrate what "mental reservation" means. The quotation is from his work, Disquisitionum Magicarum. 15

"It is an article of faith that a lie which deserves the name is in itself morally bad. Ye.t consider; it is one thing to say something false and another to hide something true, by making use not of a lie but of an equivocation. The utterance of a judge at Liege was both cunning and 'permissible, who said to a stiff-necked witch who denied all accusations, that if she spoke the truth sufficiently, he would as long as she lived provide from his own and public

14 Concina, Dif esa, 2, 60. Dollinger-Reusch, I, 265-266. 16 Colonise, 1679, p. 768.

means food and drink for her every day and see to it that a new house was built for her, understanding by 'house' the wooden (scaffolding) with the bundles and straw on which she would be burned. . . . The judge might also say to an accused man that he was giving him good counsel and a confession would be of great advantage to him, even in saving his life. For this is most true if understood of eternal life, which is the true life." 16

Perhaps an example of Jesuit mental reservation from my own experience will help further to elucidate this matter.

When I entered the Jesuit Noviceship, I was not yet twenty-one years of age, and as my father had died intestate, I was under the wardship of the Lord Chancellor of Ireland. I had not sought his permission before entering, partly because I had not long to wait until I should be free of his control, and partly because I knew that if asked he would refuse permission. Soon after entering, the Chancellor found out what I had done and sent an order to me that I should present myself before him. When the Provincial heard this he sent for me and spoke to me as follows: "Now you are to obey the summons to the Lord Chancellor, and if he asks you are you still in the Society, you are to say that you are not, as you have been dismissed. But if he does not ask you any such question, remember you are still in the Society for I am not dismissing you, save only in the eventuality I have mentioned." Thus I left the Noviceship, it was only for a month or so-, without knowing,whether or not I was dismissed, for I could not tell what awaited me in the future. If A or B asked me was I in the Order I was to answer "Yes." But if C (the Lord Chancellor) asked was I in the Order, I was to answer "No!" The Provincial was wise enough to warn me not to tell any one about his metaphysical equivocation.

Another Superior under whom I lived in the Order employed an exceedingly equivocal form of denial, when asked if he had said something. "I did not say that," he would answer, meaning the word "that." Or in other contexts, "I did not forbid it."

Count von Hoensbroech relates a pathetic experience of his own in relation to a dying Jesuit friend: "In 1889 or 1890," he wrote, "the Jesuit Niemoller died at Exaeton of consumption. I fre-

16 Quotation by Hoensbroech.

quently visited him and he spoke to me confidentially. Once he said to me in a hoarse rattling voice: 'Do you know what has been the hardest thing in the Order, what has caused me the severest spiritual tortures? The feeling of being surrounded by a system which is so full of reservation. But we must believe that our judgments are mistaken/ he added hastily, 'for the Church has certainly approved the Order, with its theory and practice.'"

It is an interesting trait in the mentality of the Jesuit Order that it should be extremely touchy about its sincerity. Avowedly it professes the lawfulness of "mental reservation." It boldly defends the theory of "probabilism" with all its consequences in matters of justice and faith-keeping. Incontinently, it refused, as we have seen, to make good the debts of its Jesuit representative in Martinique. And yet we find the Order boasts 1T of "the sincerity •we are accustomed to observe in our dealings."

What will perhaps appear to some as a very gross lack of sincerity in the Order is the profession it makes of tolerance. Jesuits encourage the idea that the Order stands for genuine religious tolerance, and that it is the defender of progress and civilisation. But when we turn to Jesuit theologians we find the most ruthless in-i |transigence of doctrine. Even modern Jesuit theologians such as Wernz, a recent General, Catherein, Hammerstein and others, teach he most extreme principles of intolerance. Wernz teaches that freedom of cult is an evil; that all religious communities of un->elievers and all non-Catholic sects are absolutely illegitimate and lestitute of every.claim to existence; that every state which refuses p be Catholic is a rebel against the power to which it owes its existence.

Catherein teaches that the Catholic church is the only church which has a right to existence. A Catholic government is in duty bound to prevent the practice of any heretical cult as long as it can. Only when a Catholic government cannot prevent the existence of non-Catholic sects without occasioning greater evil, is it lawful for it to accord complete freedom of worship.

The extreme doctrines of the Syllabus of Pope Pius IX were due to the fact that he came to be entirely dominated by Jesuits, and all his severe ordinances against progress were the outcome of this 17 Decree 74, Cogr. I.

contact. The overlordship of the Church, vis-a-vis of the State; the subjection of the State to the Church in spiritual and mixed matters; the limitation of the coactive power of the State against clerics; the power of the Church to remove the obligations of civil oaths, and so forth, are all Jesuit doctrines.

As regards the Jews, the Jesuit Hammerstein wrote: "We consider it a misfortune that in the delirium for freedom in 1848 and the following years complete civil rights were bestowed upon the Jews."

The Order, in spite of its reactionary convictions, is quite well aware of the unpopularity which a knowledge of its intolerance would entail. It therefore takes special measures to prevent Jesuits from writing on any of those topics which would reveal the Jesuit doctrine of reaction. A special "censure" exists forbidding Provincials to allow any Jesuit "to publish anything on any occasion or in any language, which treats of the power of the Pope over Kings and Princes, or of Tyrannicide, without first of all referring the matter to Rome and receiving Rome's approbation."

There are various practices in vogue in the Society ^ to describe which in detail would take us too far afield, but which provoke the criticism so often repeated in this chapter that the Society "carries out" the maxim of the "end justifying the means." There is, for instance, the opening of incoming letters tcfr individual Jesuits by Superiors. No doubt this practice is also employed in many other religious Orders, but that does not detract from the questionability of the practice. After all, outsiders do not give their consent to have their letters read by any save by those to whom they are addressed. And outsiders, at least those unacquainted with the customs of Catholic religious communities, would expect that their letters should be returned to them unopened, unless delivered direct to the addressee.

Again, there is among the Jesuits a kind of obedience demanded which is debasing to rational beings. That a subject be expected to declare what seems to him to be black, to be in reality white, is hard enough, even when the Church, which he believes to be infallible, demands such a submission of judgment from him, but it becomes positively debasing when submission of judgment of this kind is demanded of him by his Jesuit Superiors whom he knows

Pius IX, WHO CHANGED FROM LIBERALISM TO REACTION UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THE JESUITS.

perfectly well to be very far from infallible. Here it would seem that the Order, in aiming at securing the efficiency consequent on the promptest and most perfect form of obedience, that of the will and judgment, overstepped the mark, and imposed on the subjects something degrading if not impossible.

In the matter of the solemn vow of poverty, made by Professed Fathers, the Order has become involved in an inextricable tangle, from which escape is possible only by subterfuge and equivocation. A Professed Father, according to the Jesuit theologians, on account of his "solemn" vow of poverty, becomes incapable of possessing property, or of performing an act of proprietorship. He cannot even inherit property. And yet if after his profession property is willed to him, the Society has discovered a way of getting possession of the goods for the Order. How is this accomplished? In accepting a legacy is not a Professed Father at least momentarily in possession thereof? In getting rid of it and passing it on to the Society, is he not performing an act of proprietorship?

In these and many other ways, it seems as if the Order was in practice subordinating means to ends, and it seems also as if it was not excessively concerned about living up to an ethical code characterised by sincerity, truthfulness, honour, and respect for the rights of others. Whether or not a high moral tone is possible among men who are protagonists of "probabilism," and "mental reservation," is a question that may well be asked.

An incident related by the Jesuit Polanco, Ignatius' secretary, 18 illustrates much of what we have said in this chapter. ...

The Jesuits had decided to convert Cambray. It was in the early days of the Order. Fr. Bernard Olave, S.J., armed with papal briefs, called on the bishop. To his surprise he was very badly received, and soon his ears were tingling with the worthy bishop's "contumelious words." But that was not all. The bishop instructed his officials to throw into prison any Jesuit they might find preaching in his diocese. He resented the fact that Jesuits pretended to give their spiritual ministrations gratis. This gratuitous ministration was bringing odium on other Orders and on the secular clergy, and did them injury. Why, wondered the bishop, should this new Order set itself above the rest?

18 Cf. Van Dyke: Ignatius Loyola, p. 201, whose account I use.

Again Fr. Bernard called on the bishop with testimonials, but the bishop paid little attention to them. "What do you want to do preaching here for?" he cried. "Don't you know we have plenty of preachers and learned ones too? Why don't you go to the Germans, the Turks, or the Indians, or even to the English to become martyrs for the faith, if you are so good as you wish people to think? But you are only hypocrites, vagabonds, seducers, and floating scum! If you want to preach why don't you join the Franciscans or some approved Order?"

Fr. Bernard answered, looking at him, as we suppose a little below the eyes, in accordance with the rules of Modesty: "But our Order is approved by the Pope! See these Apostolic Letters!"

"You have fooled the Pope by your lies," responded the Bishop. "I forbid you to preach in my diocese, and if you attempt to do so, I will order you to prison."

• ••••» *

The Bishop of Cambray may have been a heretic or a very bad man. He certainly seems to have been discourteous. And no doubt he should have examined respectfully the Apostolic Letters that Fr. Olave submitted to him.

But neither his heresy, if he was a heretic, nor his wickedness, if he was wicked, nor his discourtesy, nor his indifference to papal briefs explain fully the incident. His reaction to the Jesuit approach was that of hundreds of other high ecclesiastics, many of whom were exemplary men in every way. They found themselves repelled by something in the Jesuits. And one can only surmise from the nature of the reaction what the something was. The reaction was not that which simple, humble, God-fearing religious would have provoked, even in worldly prelates. Neither was it the reaction that would have met the approach of lax and corrupt mendicant monks. It was rather the reaction that men would excite if they belonged to the type that the Bishop of Cambray accused the Jesuits of being, men who were tainted with hypocrisy and potential "seducers" or deceivers of people.

CHAPTER XII

THE JESUIT WAY OF ESCAPE

WE have seen in an early chapter how the Society of Jesus effected an escape from the Brief of Suppression issued by the Pope Clement XIV, and how it strove to interpret his verdict of guilty as an implied "vindication." Fr. Pollen, S.J., pretended that the Brief was motivated solely by the Pope's desire for peace, and Fr. Smith, S.J., that it contained no condemnation, only "accusations and charges." Fr. Hughes, S.J., went a step further * by calling into doubt the signing of the Brief! "For this immense organisation," wrote Fr. Hughes, "had been almost entirely destroyed by the stroke of a pen— the signature of Clement XIV given in pencil. They dispute whether he gave it at all; or at least whether he meant it. However that may be, the Order which had been erected on the principle of obedience received the word and dispersed. The rock on which it had set its foot became the altar of a sacrifice; and that, a sacrifice offered without a struggle or a remonstrance to betray any change in the spirit with which Ignatius 233 years before had vowed obedience to the Vicar of Christ."

Inadvertently, no doubt, Fr. Hughes refers to the papacy as "the rock on which the Society of Jesus had set its foot"!

The inner history of the Society is one long story of escapes cleverly effected: escape from the effects of its own Constitutions; escape from the hard doctrines of Christian morality and Catholic dogma by its theory of probabilism; escape from the difficulties entailed by honest truthfulness by its theory of mental reservation; escape from the dangers of allowing its subjects the "freedom of the children of God" by absolutism, denunciation and espionage;' escape from fair and sincere criticism by calumniating its critics; and above all, escape from toeing the line with other Orders in the Church, and submitting to the Canon Law, by dexterously and diplomatically extorting from the Holy See an immense number of

*Cf. Educational System of the Jesuits, p. 129.

privileges and exemptions. The art of effecting escapes of these and other kinds is a traditional art in the Society of Jesus. Its origin is to be sought for in the diplomacy of Ignatius himself, and its moral justification, if indeed it has any moral justification, in the obsessional conviction of Ignatius and his successors that the Society of Jesus was God's chosen instrument to work out His Will on earth. Ignatius was deeply convinced, as we have seen, that "his side was the side of God," and as a consequence he felt justified in outwitting all who opposed him, whether Pope or Prelate, and in escaping from every obstacle that stood in the path of the Society, even when it was placed in its way by the Holy See. Personally, Ignatius attributed to the devil every difficulty that the Society encountered, and he apparently was of opinion that the devil's chief occupation was to thwart the work of the Society. He believed in the possibility of countering the devil's skilful moves by equally skilful manoeuvres. He used to say that "as the devil showed great skill in tempting men to perdition, equal skill ought to be shown in saving them."

An interesting illustration of this angle of vision in Ignatius is found in his relations with Cardinal Guidiccioni who was opposed to the foundation of the Society of Jesus. Guidiccioni was, according to Polanco (Ignatius' secretary), "a good and pious man and very skilled in Church law, but Ignatius recognising a stratagem of the devil, thought that the Cardinal must be won by prayers and sacrifices . . . chiefly by these (though there were other reasons) the opposition of Cardinal Guidiccioni was changed into approval." The "other reasons" were the skilful use Ignatius made of influential friends. We now turn to a further development of this peculiar mentality of Ignatius which goes some way towards explaining the subsequent attitude of the Order towards the papacy, and the readiness with which it employed escape-mechanisms when confronted by some Apostolic Brief which was unpleasant to obey. The incident to which I allude is contained in a letter of Father Ribadeneira, Ignatius' special friend. It shows how Ignatius, in spite of his vow of loyalty and obedience to Popes, and his duty of regarding every expression of papal will as being the expression of the will of God, could nevertheless see, as it were, the devil at work behind the pontifical chair. "Our Father," wrote Riba-

deneira, "advised me to be careful how I talked about what the Pope did, and to take into account that everything I said would get to the ears of His Holiness. And because he had done things which seemed hard to excuse y our Father said that what I had to do was to praise the actions of the 'previous Pope, Marcellus, and the good will he showed toward the Company, without saying anything at all about the present Pope" The "present Pope" in question was Caraffa, Paul IV, whom Ignatius had grossly insulted some seventeen years previously and who was determined to humble the already proud Order.

We have already seen in early chapters how the Society effected escapes from the enactments of Sixtus V, Pius V, Paul IV, and later Pontiffs, and how for over a century it succeeded in defying Rome to change the unorthodox practices of its missionaries called the "Malabar and Chinese Rites." One could multiply historical instances of such Jesuit escapes from papal decrees. Suffice it to say that the ingenuity no less than the piety with which these escapes were effected baffles the imagination. No matter how angry the Pope, or how determined the College of Cardinals might be, the Society by a diplomatic display of obedience and humility, together with an explanation of the grave reasons that rendered it impossible to comply with the commands given, almost invariably succeeded in effecting an escape. It found it wise to exhibit the naked beauty of its modesty before revealing the strength of its mailed fist. It found that the sheer loveliness of virtue was most efficacious in turning away wrath, just as did the Irish maidens in the royal court of the chief Cuculain, who when this mighty warrior was seized with heroic rage and threatened all with destruction, found that the only way tof calm his anger was to display before him their undraped charms.

As regards the precise technique of the Jesuit method of escape vis-a-vis of Popes we have the official account given in the fourth decree of the Sixth General Congregation. At that time the Pope, Paul V, insisted on a complete change of all the Assistants of the Jesuit General Acquaviva. This ruling was an embarrassment to the Order and a get-a-way was decided upon. The decree of the Congregation reads as follows:

"Very Rev. Fr. General announced that it was the will of His

Holiness that all the Assistants should be entirely changed. But although the will of His Holiness should be embraced with due reverence by all as children of obedience (filii obedientiae), nevertheless since the matter was of the most grave kind, being opposed to our Constitutions, and since no reason for making such a change could be seen; and since grave inconveniences were to be feared as a result thereof; the Congregation decided that certain Fathers, chosen by Very Rev. Fr. General, as soon as it could conveniently be done, should with all humility lay before His Holiness the seriousness of the change and the universal feeling of the Society on the matter; and that they should request that, first of all, His Holiness should permit that by a secret ballot of the Congregation the mind of the whole Society about the matter should be determined; with the 'purpose nevertheless of subsequently submitting to the judgment of His Holiness" It would be hard to find a better instance of a pious effort at escape, or a better example of how the Order bows to "the least sign of its Superior's will."

In the year 1645, Pope Innocent X issued a Brief, Prosfero et Felici StatUy in which he commanded in the clearest and most imperative manner, that the Society should hold a General Congre-' gation every nine years; that all Assistants should be changed at such Congregations; and that all Superiors of the Order, with the exception of Masters of Novices, should be changed every three years. From these rulings the Society easily escaped. Alexander VII, Innocent's successor, was induced to revoke the law concerning the triennial change of Superiors, and Benedict XIV was persuaded to revoke the nonennial law, "many dispensations having been granted in the meantime" 2 It was in fact virtually impossible for a Pontiff to effect any permanent change in the Jesuit Constitutions, no matter how desirable. The Order could always engineer an escape.

We have now to turn our attention to another activity of the Jesuit "escape-mechanism." Some of the Constitutions of the Order proved impracticable and evasion became necessary.

One classic example of Jesuit escape from the effects of its own Constitutions is that of its evasion of evangelical poverty, "the 2 Fr. Pollen, S. J.

firm wall of religion," that it "loves as a mother," and 'will not repeal but at the same time will not observe.

At the risk of tiring by repetition it is necessary here to requote some of the Constitutions concerning poverty:

"In order that Ours may advance in the Divine service with greater freedom and edification before the world, they should freely give what they have freely received; and they are forbidden to ask for or accept any reward or alms by which masses, confessions, lectures, sermons or any other works which the Society according to its Institute carries out, may seem to be recompensed, as though the alms or recompense were given or received for them. In this matter no Superior, not even the General can validly dispense." 8 The Constitution Js in no sense archaic or obsolete. It was solemnly reconfirmed by a General Congregation, held at Rome, three years ago, and is taken, as are the following Constitutions from the Epitome (published in 1924):*

"In order that we may vindicate the absolute and perfect gratuity of our ministry, and attain it according to our Institute, with all our strength, absolutely all kinds of stipends must be rejected which m'ight seem to be a compensation for our ministry."

The section which follows, however, provides for a subtle escape. Stipends may be accepted if they are offered as alms and if their destination is left entirely to the will of the donor, or if it is clear that they are not really stipends at all but a "hidden gift" (tectam largitionem).

"The Society must exercise its ministry of teaching gratis nor may any one accept money or any gifts from students for himself or for the college, on account of any services rendered." There follows, however, allusion to a "concession" which authorises the acceptance of pensions when the school is insufficiently endowed. But since it is against the Constitutions to accept a school or college unless it is sufficiently endowed (quod congruenti fundatione non sit dotatum), 5 one finds it hard to understand the nature or value of the "concession." What is clear is this, that the Society still pretends to give gratuitous education, and to stand by its Constitutions, but that it has escaped from all the practical consequences of

8 Epitome 525, sec. I. *Epit. 525, sec. 2, et. seq.

6 No. 516.

evangelical education and insists on being paid the highest fees it can command on the market.

How did the Society escape from its position of offering its ministry free of charge and of refusing Mass stipends and so forth? The Professed Fathers were not only bound by personal vows of poverty but they were bound by vow to resist any attempt made to relax the poverty of the Society. They therefore could not appeal to the Pope for concessions. An escape had to be found and in due time it was found. The despised Coadjutors came to the rescue. They were indeed also bound by vows of personal poverty, but they were not bound by vow to resist relaxations of poverty, so they were sent to the Pope to lay before His Holiness the distressful state of the Society, and the Pope then accorded concessions which allowed Jesuits to accept stipends, and so forth.

The attitude of the Order towards this "Apostolic Dispensation" which in a sub-title is called a "Temporary Regulation" (Dispositio Temporaria), is somewhat amusing. Without it the Order could not survive for a week and yet it refers to it as though it were an insult to the Order, and an encumbrance. It dreads lest it may in any way "injure Our spirit and lessen Our love of poverty." 8 It is only to be used "for the gravest reasons." The Order must sigh for the days when they will be delivered from this "Apostolic Dispensation." "In order that the Society may be freed more easily from the necessity of accepting stipends, great care is to be taken to abstain from extraordinary expenses, and even from less necessary expenses. If, moreover, through the bounty of God, some houses or provinces enjoy more prosperity, let them take to heart the charitable helping of other houses and provinces, so that the latter being thus assisted, may no longer be forced to use the Apostolic Dispensation, or at least may be enabled to use it more sparingly." 7

The cutting down of "extraordinary expenses and even those that are less necessary" was a pious wish, calculated to give edification, but of no practical efficacy, as any one can see who has visited the magnificent establishments, or driven in the sumptuous cars that belong to the Order. But the "escape" from poverty was effected, without changing the Constitutions and without hauling 6 Epit. 927. 7 Epit. 935.

The Jesuit Way of Escape

down for a moment the flag of obedience and religious 'perfection.

We shall now turn to another classic example of Jesuit escape from Constitutions, that of their enormous involvements in politics in spite of the fact that such activities were imperatively forbidden by their Institute. Here again we have to run the risk of repetition.

The "Monita Generalia" 8 lays down:

"In order that we may abstain from every appearance of evil, and escape from complaints and likewise as far as possible from false suspicions emanating therefrom, all Ours are forbidden In virtue of obedience and under 'penalty of ... to mix, under any pretext. In public or secular affairs of princes, which pertain to the State (politics); to dare or presume to undertake the care of such political affairs, no matter by whom they should be requested or asked so to do." There follows a rule forbidding "Ours" to "insinuate themselves into the friendship of princes." In the Epitome all these prohibitions against mixing in politics and affairs of state are reiterated. 9

A General, Roothan, writing to the Courier Francaise in 1847, reiterated the Jesuit claim that "politics are absolutely foreign to the Institute." "The Society," he added, "has never joined any 'party no matter what Its name" However, his subject and friend, Fr. de Ravignan, S.J., had to admit (in reference to the Portuguese revolution that placed John IV on the' throne) "that Religious of the Society took 'part In a 'political revolution that overthrew one throne to 'put another In Its 'place" Gustavus Adolphus was less convinced than Fr. Roothan that the "assertions accusing Jesuits of taking part in political intrigues are slanderous," for he longed to see "the three 'Ls* hanged, the Jesuits Lamormaini, Layman, and Laurentius Forer." Richelieu had experience of the astuteness and power of the Jesuit politicians Monod and Caussin, and it was with difficulty that he succeeded in having them banished from France. The Jesuit's lay historian, Cretineau-Joly, writing of Fr. Petre, S.J., the confessor and adviser of James II of England, states: "Petre took a position (as privy-councillor) contrary to the statutes of Saint Ignatius, and the rest of the Jesuits raised no objection, or else which Is very Improbable the document Is lost" 10

8 No. 18. » Sec. 700.

The General of the time, according to another account, wrote to the English Provincial expressing "surprise" that Fr. Petre should have been allowed to accept such an office "implying interference with matters forbidden by the statutes of the Order," but he took no further action in the matter.

One has only to refer to the names of such Jesuits as Parsons, Nidhard, Bermudez, Letellier, Possevin and Cotton to establish the fact that Jesuits engaged to a very great extent in political affairs. But what interests us at the moment is the pretext under which they did so, or to put it in another way, the mode of escape they employed in order to evade the obligations of their rule.

"The complaint against the Jesuits is," writes a hostile critic, "that their authorities ostensibly forbid political action, yet permit and encourage their subjects to pursue it and even in ways.that are unworthy of religious ideals; that, in short, the Jesuit approaches the field under the white flag of political neutrality, employs weapons which are condemned in civilised warfare, and then denies that he interfered." "

Cretineau-Joly comes to the rescue of the Order with a pretext: "In the intention of Loyola politics were certainly excluded from his institution, but in the sixteenth century all matters of the court and diplomacy and even the wars had a religious basis. . . . The Jesuits therefore were compelled to intervene in political and social movements." This was the pretext of Lamormaini, who used end his reports to his Superior with the words, "this matter also concerns conscience and religion" Fr. Blyssem, who worked out a military report on the defences of Graz, wrote in the third person and concluded his communication thus: "Affairs of war are to be discussed with warriors and not with members of the Order. The p-ofession of Jesuits does not extend to such discussions, on the contrary, it absolutely forbids them"

According to Count von Hoensbroech, 12 the Society in its anxiety to have a say in the political destinies of Kingdoms, through the channels of Jesuit Royal Confessors, became involved with the Law

11 A Candid History of the Jesuits, by Joseph McCabe, p. 117. Putnam, 1013. 12 Vol. II., p. 173 et seq.

of Confessional Secrecy. Two Jesuit Generals, Nickel and Vitel-leschi, issued the following instruction to Provincials:

"When Sovereigns require a Jesuit's opinion on any subject, the Jesuit in question is to report the matter to his Superior, who is to lay it before several Jesuits for discussion. The resolution formed after this consultation is supplied to the Jesuit who has been consulted by the Sovereign."

Now it usually happened that the Jesuit whom a Sovereign consulted was his confessor, and it was, needless to say, somewhat of a strain on the latter's conscience to lay before Jesuit Superiors for discussion what his penitent had imparted to him. Hence we need not be surprised at the letter which follows, written by Fr. Caussin, S.J., the confessor of Louis XIII of France, to the General Vitel-leschk "I am reproached for not seeking advice of my Superiors on the .matters I discuss with the King. . . . But I know from Thomas (Aquinas) that, according to natural, human, and divine right, matters of conscience are to be kept secret. . . . What law or what Constitution of the Society is there that bids the Father Confessor report to his Superiors on affairs of his penitents? . . . Is the King's conscience to be revealed to as many persons as there are consultors in our houses?"

Fr. Caussin no doubt misunderstood the import of the instructions he received, for there cannot have been any intention on the part of the Generals, Nickel and Vitelleschi, to induce Royal Confessors to violate confessional secrecy. But there was very plainly a desire on their part to have a hand, as far as was possible, in guiding the political movements of the time through the Royal Confessors.

From its earliest years the Society fortified itself against the vicissitudes of fortune, and secured for itself good lines of retreat from minor perils, by inducing friendly Popes to confer privileges upon it. In the course of time these privileges grew to be so numerous and so important that they had to be kept secret lest they should be a cause of scandal. All the privileges that other Orders enjoyed were bestowed in bulk on the Society and to these were added an immense number of special privileges. Jesuit colleges were given the power of conferring degrees; Jesuits were given the most extraordinary and abundant "faculties" for hearing confessions;' they could defy civil authority; override the rulings of bishops and

archbishops; build houses within the canonical limits of other re= ligious houses; practise medicine; refuse restitution even when in the wrong; and "as often as there was doubt in the understanding of the privileges of the Society, doctors of law and judges were always bound to interpret them in favour of the Society" 18 'Wo letters or Apostolic 'privileges granted to individuals y colleges or chapters, or universities or convents were to 'prejudice those granted to the Society" 14 It is added that those who oppose or stand in the way of Jesuit privileges are excommunicated and, if clerics, are to be deprived of ecclesiastical dignities.

It is quite impossible, in a few sentences, to give an adequate idea of the scope of these privileges. They were amply sufficient to afford the Order a way of escape from even the most unusual situations that might arise in the complexity of church life. But it was not sufficient for the Order to be protected against outsiders. It had also to be protected against possible dangers from within. Individual Jesuits might, for instance, avail themselves of the liberality accorded by the papal Bull Cruciata, and confess their sins outside the Order. Against this danger the Order guarded itself by securing front Po$e Urban VIII the privilege whereby Jesuits were deprived of the advantages accorded them through this Bull! The crowning glory of Jesuit privileges has yet to follow. It was a privilege accorded to the Society whereby the subjects of the Society were deprived of the very meanest of rights, that of making appeals to their ecclesiastical authorities against the Society.

It must be remembered that the Society was already privileged to proceed against its own subjects, invoking, if necessary, the aid of the civil arm. It could lawfully punish and incarcerate delinquent Jesuits. It could pursue fugitive Jesuits and remove them by force even from the Roman Curia. It could dismiss them, if it so willed, without any form of trial. Added to this the Society secured a privilege, which rendered it unlawful for any Jesuit to appeal against the Institute or the ordinances, punishments, or orders of General Congregations or of other Superiors to any one whatsoever outside the Order, even to the Pope himself or the Apostolic See, without the special permission of the Pope.

No matter how unjustly a Jesuit might be treated by his Superiors

18 Compendium Privil., sec. 4. ^Ibid., sec. 8.

he dare not appeal to an Archbishop, or Papal Legate, or even, as we have seen, to the Pope himself. Judges of all kinds were forbidden under pain of excommunication to accept or listen to such appellations. Any steps taken by them in such a direction were tpo facto void and null (irritum et inane). In fact, it is quite within the bounds of possibility that Jesuits, incarcerated by their Superiors, have rotted away unheard of, for they were unable to do anything for themselves by way of appeal, and others could not stretch out a hand to help them for fear of incurring excommunication for "standing in the way of Jesuit privileges."

From time to time sturdy bishops, such, for instance, as the Ven. Bishop Palafox have stood out against the privileges of the Order and appealed to the Pope against them. Bishop Palafox was fortunate in having a Pope of the temper of Innocent X to appeal to, and he won his appeal on every head. 11 ?

Innocent published the findings of the Congregation in whose hands he placed the dispute for examination. "The Congregation decided that the said religious (the Jesuits) could by no means hear the confessions of secular folk in Los Angeles without the approbation of the bishop of the diocese (Palafox); nor could they preach the word of God even in the churches of their Order without first of all seeking his blessing; nor could they preach in other churches without his permission; nor, should he prohibit it, could they preach in the churches of their Order. .... Furthermore, they could be coerced and punished with the censures of the church by the bishop, acting as Apostolic delegate. ... Nor was it lawful for them, even on the grounds of manifest injuries and violence, to select 'Conservatores,' and through these to fulminate excommunications against the Bishop and his Vicar-general" (as they had done in the case of Bishop Palafox).

This humiliating decree was vigorously contested by the Jesuits even in the teeth of papal anger, for they saw in it the undermining of many of their cherished privileges. But after a re-examination they were still further humiliated. Innocent X published another Brief, confirming the previous one, and sarcastically alluding to "the religious of the aforesaid Order who had put forward the pretext (pratendentes) that our previous letters were unjustified."

16 Cf. Brief Cum sicut accepinvus, 1653.

z 5 6 The Jesuit Enigma

There is a curious expression in use in the Society j the expression "to form one's conscience." In a case of doubt about the advisability or the legitimacy of a certain course of action one is taught to pray over the matter and having discussed it as best one can in one's reason, "to form one's conscience." This means, in p-actice, to find a pious pretext for doing what one desires to do, a pretext that supplies a label of legitimacy. If, for instance, a Jesuit is uncertain whether or not it is lawful for him to undertake a certain work suggested to him by Externs, he "forms his conscience" and agrees to do it, or refuses it. He may find as an appropriate label "edification" or "charity" or "the lesser of two evils." Having subsumed the matter under one of these heads, he is satisfied in his conscience that he is justified in going ahead. In the case, for instance, of Ignatius outwitting Guidiccioni, Ignatius would have been said to have "formed his conscience" as to the legitimacy of opposing Guidiccioni on the pretext that the devil was instigating him.

One can easily understand how this Jesuit practice results in the confusing of motives with pretexts, and in engendering a certain insincerity in conduct. In asking a permission from a Superior the habit of putting forward a high-sounding pretext instead of the true motive obtains. Suppose a Jesuit is living in a city where his parents reside, and that he wishes very much to see them. Before doing so he requires the permission of his Superior, but what plea is he to put forward? His real motive is naturally the pleasure he will give his parents and the pleasure it will be for him. But were he to put such a motive before his Superior he would be refused permission to make the visit. He is therefore forced into searching for a pretext that will appeal to his Superior. He may be able to "form his conscience" to say that his mother or father is unwell. If so the permission will be given. Or he may "find a reason" such as the need of maintaining a good influence over his father who may happen to be slack about his religious duties. Perhaps he can urge the plea that his father, if encouraged to do so, would make a generous benefaction to a Jesuit house or college. Such pretexts, though not the true motives, will obtain the required permission. The true motives would be turned down. If the Superior be subsequently questioned by a higher Superior as to why he allowed Fr.

INNOCENT X, WHO CURBED THE POWER OF THE JESUITS.

X. to visit his parents, he can give a "constitutional reason" for his conduct, for instance, "Fr. X. was allowed to make the visit because his parent was ill." Then he knows that his higher Superior cannot report him to Rome. This kind of mentality is at the root of the art of "escape."

That Jesuits are not taught to face facts honestly and fairly is quite clear to one who knows the training of the Society. An illustration will make this clear. There is a rule which imposes on Jesuits who are engaged in studies an interruption of their work, for health's sake, after every two hours. This is a wise and considerate rule, and is quite as obligatory as any other rule. Yet because it is a rule which favours the subject Superiors allow it to be interpreted in a self-destructive way. My Master of Novices used to relate with obvious approval how a certain edifying young Jesuit (all absorbed in his studies for the •' Glory of God) used obey this rule by getting up from his chair at the two hours' limit and twisting his chair around! Then he used settle down to another two hours of work. Such an exposition of the "substantial fulfilment" of a rule was by no means unique. It seemed to me at the time to contain an element of dishonesty, to be an obvious shirking of duty.

Fr. George Tyrrell 16 makes a severe indictment against the government of the Order on the grounds that it functions through a system of make-belief, and builds up its theory of obedience on innumerable assumptions. He emphasises the fact that the Society escapes from many difficulties by pretending that the voice of Superiors is the "Voice of God."

"Consonant with the necessity of maintaining a blind faith in the voice of Superiors as being the voice of God, is the tendency in every way to exalt the conception of the Order as a Divine Institution, an Ecclesia in Ecclesia y something unique and apart from all other Orders, the special protege of the Blessed Virgin and the Heavenly Powers; the tendency to encourage and reward the most fulsome flattery, and adulation in its members and friends; to repress rigorously as sheer disloyalty even the best meant criticism suggestive of possible failures and limitations; the tendency to exalt official at the expense of personal qualifications j to distrust and

16 In his Letter to the General.

undermine the ascendency of mind and character; to give office to grateful and manageable mediocrity, rather than to possibly independently minded competence; the tendency (justified by Plato in his ideal republican tyranny), to discourage friendship and mutual confidence among subjects and to attach them to the central authority, not as an adhesive mass but as separate units; the tendency to assume that subjects possess no other inward qualification or virtue than that of passive obedience and therefore to trust to external conditions rather than to virtue for their good behaviour; to believe in coercive legislation, espionage, protection, rather than in spiritual spontaneity. Consonant also is that system already alluded to of artificially forced vocations which gives the Society children to work upon instead of grown men of formed character and personality such as Ignatius wished to gather round him."

The ingenuity of the Society has been taxed to the full in finding escapes from criticism. As we have pointed out elsewhere, it decided on a very summary method of dealing with internal critics, namely, excommunication, suspension, degradation from office and, if necessary, expulsion. But naturally these methods were inapplicable or inadequate in the case of outside critics, although it secured an Apostolic condemnation for all who should dare to impugn its Constitution.

The Society has had therefore to have recourse to other methods of defence against enemies without its ranks. It imputes evil motives, denies competence and sincerity, rakes up scandals, and makes free use of the most violent forms of polemics. It believes in the method of defence called by Newman "poisoning the wells," and aims at so discrediting its critics that no one will consider seriously what they write. Even so cultured and estimable a Jesuit as the late Fr. J. H. Pollen, when writing against critics of his Order, 17 indulges in these arts, though somewhat more mildly than other Jesuit warriors, some of whom have had to be silenced by the Pope, so virulent did their eloquent defence of the Society become.

Fr. Pollen opens his defence of the Society by quoting from St. Ambrose as follows: "He in truth is impugned in vain who is accused of impiety by the impious and faithless, though he is a teacher of the faith." To this suggestive quotation he adds "the personal

17 Cf. Catholic Encyclopedia.

equation of the accuser is a correction of great moment." Relying on the principles implicit in these statements he is in a position to sweep aside all the criticism emanating from heretics, infidels, and rationalists of all classes.

One class of critics, however, and they were precisely the class most competent to write about the Order, had to be unequivocally eliminated. As this class included men who were neither heretics nor infidels nor rationalists, Fr. Pollen had to impute bitterness and passion to them; he calls them "deserters from the ranks" "The most embittered and the most untrustworthy enemies of the Society," writes Fr. Pollen "(they are fortunately not very numerous), have ever been deserters from its own ranks."

Fr. Tyrrell, while still a Professed Father of the Society, had voiced a somewhat milder view of so-called desertion: "Those who leave {the Society's} ranks" he wrote, "even at their own request, are said to be ' : dismissed*; and it is insinuated by eloquent and charitable head-shakings and 'pursing up of sealed lips or even whispered to those who will spread it abroad, that they 'went out from among us because they were not of us, t because they were ill at ease in such sacred surroundings'"

There is no doubt but that some books written by ex-Jesuits, such, for instance, as Fourteen Years a Jesuit, by Count von Hoens-broech, have been written with no small show of bitterness. But in spite of the display of bitterness, Hoensbroech's volumes are replete with learning, and are of exceptional value as criticisms of the Order. Besides, whatever passion he betrayed was easily surpassed by the passion shown in the attacks that Jesuits subsequently made on him.

There is an interesting instance of the manner in which Jesuits leave loopholes when giving advice, recorded by Polanco, Ignatius' secretary. It is so characteristic of the mentality and practice of the Society that it is worth recording. Van Dyke 18 gives the story in full.

The custom of using cosmetics was widely in vogue in the Kingdom of Naples, and Jesuit preachers had begun to denounce it vigorously, when Ignatius' advice was sought for. His reply was as follows:

18 Ignatius Loyola, p. 188.

"So far as the use of cosmetics by Neapolitan women is concerned: if they do it as an aid to some evil action, it is a mortal sin and they cannot have absolution. If they do it because their husbands want them to, they may be given absolution. But it is good to persuade them to persuade their husbands not to make them use that vanity. If they do it out of vanity and to appear beautiful, although they have no other intention of mortal sin, using cosmetics is not a mortal sin. Nevertheless it is a great imperfection and not without sin; although not mortal sin. And although it can be absolved it seems better for the Confessors of our Company (which desires the perfection of everybody) to act as follows: If the first exhortation does not stop it to say to these women plainly, that if they wish to remain in such an imperfect religious attitude, they do not wish to have anything more to do with them and that they may go where they will elsewhere to make their confession. Nevertheless, either because it is a small matter, or for any other reason, discretion may be used in some special cases, and this ought not to be made so strict a rule as not to leave any room for exceptions"

This direction of Ignatius, typical of Jesuit moral direction, leaves as one can see a considerable number of loopholes and ways of escape. Every rich or interesting penitent could be regarded as a "special case" in which "discretion was to be used," and the "dear child" might be allowed to continue to indulge her fancies in cosmetics.

In the day-to-day life among the rank and file of the Order the individual Jesuit is constantly exercising his ingenuity in escaping from being "caught" by Superiors over breaches of rule of which he is guilty. Those who are expert at covering up their tracks are much envied by the rest. Some are marvellously adept at so doing. I knew one young Jesuit, who belonged to a Province where smoking was strictly forbidden, except for those who were licensed to smoke by the Provincial, and who was never caught smoking, although later it was discovered by the doctor that he was suffering from a smoker's heart! How he procured his supplies of tobacco, and indulged his craving, the Superiors never found out.

Another Jesuit, whom I knew, was so adept at effecting escapes that he acquired the cognomen "De Wet," from the famous Boer

General who succeeded for so long a period in escaping the British forces that dogged his steps in South Africa. The Jesuit "De Wet" had an unbroken record of escapes, but one day, when he was returning to his house late for a spiritual duty, he was seen by his Superior. It looked as if no escape from the damning situation was possible. But his ingenuity did not fail him. Immediately he reached his room he threw himself on his bed and sent another Jesuit to the Superior to say that he was ^ery unwell, and to beg for a spoonful of Brandy to cure his colic!

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A public and rather spectacular instance of Jesuit escape ingenuity occurred some years ago at a meeting of the old Royal University in Dublin. Several Jesuits held lucrative professorships in this University much to the dissatisfaction of lay teachers. Some of the Jesuit professors were in many respects unfitted for their posts, but through the influence of powerful Catholic friends they were able to retain them. At the University Convocations hints had been dropped from time to time but no direct anti-Jesuit resolution had been moved. On the occasion to which I allude, however, a much respected Catholic professor introduced a resolution to the effect that University Chairs should not be given to members of a foreign teaching Order. Every one knew that the motion was directed against the Jesuits. Hardly, however, had this professor introduced his motion when a well-known Jesuit jumped to his feet and seconded it! He made a speech supporting very strongly the 'Principle underlying the motion^ and emphasising the desirability of a national University being staffed by native talent. His action, needless to say, created such a ridiculous situation that the discussion of the motion was turned into vocal confusion, and the matter was dropped. The irony of the situation was all the greater for the fact that the Jesuit in question was an Englishman, only a few years resident in Ireland. He was adept, however, in the Society's art of escape.

CHAPTER XIII

A POPE AND AN APOSTATE

WHO can tell whether Clement XIV or George Tyrrell dealt the deadlier blow to the Society of Jesus? Clement, in 1773, acted the role of executioner, but the Society was hydra-headed and the Pope failed to lop off all its heads. Tyrrell, in 1904, acted the role of prophet, and told the world that the Society was dying, that the cancer of reaction was eating away its vitality. Clement had drawn his sword to save the peace of Christendom, and the purity of Christian doctrine, for he saw in the Jesuit an incorrigible mischief-maker and a prevaricator of truth, whom death alone could quieten. Tyrrell, the Apostate, raised his anguished voice in protest against the Jesuit, as the blind and ruthless enemy of progress, the Pharisee who was making faith odious and impossible.

Neither Clement nor Tyrrell regarded Jesuits as belonging to the fold of Christ. Rather did they look upon them as wolves in sheep's clothing; Clement, because the rest of the fold distrusted them and called for their expulsion; Tyrrell, because he saw them robbing the other sheep of their liberty and freedom.

Lorenzo Ganganelli, afterwards Clement XIV, had been educated by the Jesuits, and had become a Franciscan monk. As Definator of his Order (1741), and Consultor of the Holy Office, he had gained experience of the intrigues that surrounded the Chair of Peter. In 1759 he had been raised to the cardinalate by Clement XIII, at the instance of the Jesuit General, Ricci, and ten years later he was elected to the papacy by forty-six votes out of forty-seven, the missing vote being his own, which he had given to Cardinal Rezzonico.

The election which placed Ganganelli on the Papal Chair was preceded by much intrigue. The cardinals were divided into "Zelanti," who favoured the Jesuits, and "Court Cardinals," who favoured the Bourbon interests and who sought the suppression of

the Order. The former were in a majority, but were anxious

nevertheless to avoid irritating the Bourbons by electing an extremist. Both sides agreed to the election of Ganganelli, and it is doubtful if, under the circumstances, a fairer choice could have been made.

Clement XIV was a man of humble origin, but of unquestionable probity and virtue. He was clear-minded, liberal, and conciliating. "Honour and Conscience" was his watchword, and he was not slow in giving proof of his courage and resolution. He was regarded as friendly to the Jesuits whom he knew very intimately, but he was above all concerned with the good of the Church and the interests of his flock. The Jesuits, of course, describe him as weak, irresolute and lacking in foresight and diplomatic skill, although they admit that he was not personally antagonistic to them. "No personal animosity guided his action," writes Fr. Pollen, S.J. "The Jesuits themselves in agreement with all serious historians attribute the suppression to Clement's weakness of character, unskilled diplomacy, and that kind of goodness of heart which is more bent on doing what is pleasing than what is right."

Without delay, following the election, the Jesuits made every effort to "capture" Clement, but to their mortification they found that he had taken steps to protect himself against their intrigues. He refused to see Ricci, and dismissed from his entourage certain diplomatic agents of the Society.. "You ask me," wrote Fr. Garnier, S.J., a little later, "why the Jesuits offer no defence; they can do nothing here (at Rome). All approaches, direct and indirect, are completely closed; walled up with double walls. Not the most insignificant memorandum can find its way in. There is no one who would undertake to hand it in." Clement closed some Jesuit colleges, among them the famous Roman College. The Society became more and more alarmed. They knew that Bourbon pressure was being brought to bear on the Pope and that hundreds of bishops, whom in the days of their glory and arrogance they had humiliated, were now beseeching Rome for their suppression. But they could do nothing, for their fair-weather friends were deserting them. "Nowhere did the Jesuits offer any resistance," writes Pollen, pathetically, "for they knew that their efforts were futile."

In November, 1772, Clement set about the composition of his Brief for the suppression of the Society. He spent seven months on

it, praying, meditating, studying and examining charges against the Society, and condemnations by previous Popes, as well as whatever was issued by previous Popes in its favour. He says himself in the Brief that "he did not S'pare himself in making every kind of enquiry so that he might fully and thoroughly know and understand everything pertaining to the origin y growth y and present state of the Jesuit Order." He refers also to the long period needed for the purpose of "a most exact examination," and tells how he offered "most earnest prayers, mourning and grieving over what was before him," and how "he entreated the faithful to come to his aid by their prayers and good works."

The Brief, which is called from its first words, Dominus ac Redemftor, was signed on June 8, 1773, but was not promulgated until August 16. It is a clear, decisive, and terrible indictment of the Society of Jesus. It points an unerring finger to the sources of evil in the Constitutions. It sums up moderately and mercifully the various and grave charges that had been proven against the Order, and enumerates the Popes who had tried without success to reform it. It states categorically that "the Order can no longer p-oduce the fruit for which it was instituted" And, to this declaration of its sterility, it adds that "as long as this Order exists it is impossible for the Church to enjoy free and solid peace." In this manner the strange spiritual creation of Spanish ascetics was pronounced by Christ's vicar to be an encumbrance, A disfigurement, that obscured the vision of peace. So he "suppressed and abolished it for ever," "annulling and abrogating all and each of its offices, functions, and administrations."

Thus a saintly Pope, fair-minded, sincere, elected by a unanimous vote of the Cardinals of Holy Church, possessed of all the authority and infallibility of Peter, personally friendly to the Jesuits, after four years of prayer and careful consideration, and not without precedent; for he was doing what Innocent XI had begun to do, and what Innocent XIII had threatened; exercising the sacred powers of his Office as supreme head of the Church, deliberately decreed the utter, complete, and perpetual extinction of the Society of Jesus, as a corrupt, insubordinate, and worthless regiment of his army.

"He did not mean to do what he did," writes Fr. T. Hughes,

CLEMENT XIV, WHO SUPPRESSED THE SOCIETY OF JESUS.

S.J. "He only suppressed the Order for the sake of peace and as a sop to the Bourbons," cries Fr. Pollen, S.J. "The condemnation is not pronounced in the straightforward language of direct statement, but is merely insinuated," declared the learned Fr. Sydney Smith, S.J. "There is not one word about the decadence of the Society in its morality or theology," adds Fr. T. J. Campbell, S.J. One Jesuit alone, as far as I know, had the honesty to face the facts. "I love my Order as much as any man," wrote Fr. Cordara, S.J., in his Memoirs, "yet had I been in the Pope's place I should probably have acted as he did."

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In the prooemium of the Brief Dominus ac Redemptor, Clement states that Christ "left as a legacy to the Apostles the ministry of reconciliation" and presently adds, having in mind the discord that the Jesuit Order had stirred up in every part of the world, "Christ is not a God of dissension but of peace and love," therefore "all begotten of Christ should be solicitous of preserving unity of spirit in the bonds of peace."

The prooemium goes on to state that Religious Orders were welcomed by the Church as harbingers of good works and virtue, but "when things come to such a pass that from some particular Order abundant fruit is not forthcoming or that such an Order is rather a source of evil and a disturbance to the tranquillity of the people than of good," it has to be reformed or suppressed.

Clement next proceeds to adduce many examples of suppression of Orders, and very significantly he brings up as illustrations Orders that had been confirmed and privileged by many Popes, and Orders that had been suppressed on account of internal as well as external dissensions. The Fratres Humiliati t for instance, though solemnly approved and confirmed by four Popes had been suppressed by Pope Saint Pius V on account of disobedience to papal decrees, domestic discords, and dissensions with externs. The Fratres Con-ventuales Reformat* were suppressed by Pope Urban VIII on account of dissensions with their sister Order and because they were not producing "abundant fruit," although this Order had been solemnly approved by Sixtus V. Such cases afforded as it were precedents for his contemplated suppression of the Jesuits.

Clement, anticipating that the Jesuits would complain that they

had been suppressed without trial, goes on to point out that in the cases he adduces, "the Holy See had taken action out of the full plenitude of its power, as Vicar of Christ, without employing judicial trial." And later on in the Brief, when laying down arrangements for the dispersal of Jesuits, and limiting to one year delayal of dispersion, he adds "just as in the Society they would be dismissed without any other reason than because the prudence of the Superior so judges and that without any previous citation or juridical proof." As the Society had treated its own subjects in the days of its glory, expelling them without judicial trial if. it thought well to do so, he, the Vicar of Christ, was now acting towards the Society itself.

In referring to the foundation of the Society, and the very great privileges accorded it by Paul III, Clement pointedly dwells on the extraordinary privilege of exemption from episcopal authority. "All who pertained to the Order, and all its possessions were exempted from all superiority, jurisdiction and correction of all bishops of whatever standing." Furthermore Paul III had taken the Jesuits "under his own protection and that of the Holy See." Other Popes added to these privileges many others, some of which were of a kind to help to extricate the Society from the difficulties that were springing up within its ranks and the difficulties its conduct had entailed. "The tenor and even the terms of these Apostolic Constitutions show that the Society from its earliest days saw spring up within it various germs of discord and jealousies, which tore its members asunder, led them to rise against other religious Orders, and against the secular clergy, the academies, universities, colleges, public schools, nay, even against the monarchs who had welcomed them into their states."

What were the sources of these dissensions and troubles? Clement answers this question fully, and attributes the evil to the peculiar vow system of the Society; to the arbitrary powers of dismissal that the Society enjoyed; "to the absolute 'power that the Jesuit General laid claim to and to other things relating to the government of the Order" which, besides certain points of doctrine, and invasions of episcopal rights were "in conflict with the decisions of the Council of Trent and of Pope Pius V." As regards the "absolutism of the Jesuit General" (potestas absoluta quam prsepositus

generalis ejusdem Societatis sibi vindicabat), Clement was anticipating the central point of TyrVell's criticism of the Order.

Clement next goes on to deal with charges made against the Jesuits. "There is scarcely any kind of grave accusation that has not been brought against this Society." "Numberless complaints backed by the authority of Kings and Rulers have been urged against these Religious at the tribunals of Paul IV, Pius V, and Sixtus V. Thus, Philip II, King of Spain, laid before Sixtus V not only the urgent and grave personal reasons which prompted his action in this matter, but also the protest of the Spanish Inquisition against the excessive privileges of the Society. His Majesty also complained of the Society's form of government, and of points in the Institute which were disputed by some of the members of the Society, who were conspicuous for their knowledge and piety, and he asked the Sovereign Pontiff to name a commission for an Apostolic Visitation of the Society. As the zealous demands of Philip seemed to be based on justice and equity, Sixtus V appointed as Visitor Apostolic a bishop generally recognised for his prudence, virtue and intellectual gifts . . . the premature death of Sixtus prevented any action." "His most wise counsel came to nothing and had no effect." Clement does not tell of the personal attitude of Sixtus towards the Society or of his insistence on a change of name. "Who are these men," Sixtus used to say, "whom we must not name without bowing our heads?" Neither does he refer to the underhand intrigues by means of which Acquaviva, the Jesuit General, thwarted his proceedings against the Order. But he goes on to refer, with apparent dismay, to the next turn that things took. Gregory XIV (1591) outdid all previous Pontiffs in loading the Society with praises and privileges. In particular, and this evidently shocked Clement, "he confirmed and ratified" Jesuit privileges concerning the dismissal of their members, so that "without juridical procedure, that is to say without having taken any previous information, without drawing up any indictment, without observing any legal process, or allowing any delay, even the most essential, but solely on the inspection of the truth of the fact, and without regard to the fault or whether it or the attendant circumstances sufficiently justified the expulsion of the person involved," the Society could dismiss members from its ranks.

To confer such absolute powers was apparently going "beyond the beyonds," but Gregory had gone still further. "He imposed over and above the most rigorous silence (altissimum insuper silen-tium imposuit), and forbade under pain of excommunication, ipso facto, any direct or indirect attack on the Institute, constitutions, or decrees of the Society, or any attempt to have any change made in them." No doubt Clement knew perfectly well that these unheard-of privileges had been wrung from Gregory by the Jesuits themselves.

No good followed from these measures of Gregory. Internal and external dissensions continued, and even grew worse. "Troublesome quarrels over the doctrine of the Society filled almost the whole world" (universum fere orbem pervaserunt molestasque con-tentiones de Societatis doctrina). Many maintained that the Jesuit doctrine was opposed to the orthodox faith and sound morality. Furthermore, "it was everywhere reproached, with too much avidity and eagerness for earthly goods and this complaint caused the Holy See much 'pain and exasperated many rulers of nations against the Society " Clement next tells how Paul V, in order to reform the Society and to put an end to its money-seeking and interference in politics, insisted that the Fifth General Congregation should incorporate a decree of reform to be submitted to him and confirmed by his authority.

The decree was passed imposing in stern terms reforms as regards Jesuits meddling in secular and political affairs, abstention from quarrelling and "false suspicions," and refers to "the guilt, ambition, and indiscreet zeal of some members." Here, let me note a remark of Fr. Pollen, S.J. 1 "The Society never became 'relaxed, 1 or needed a 'reform' in the technical sense in which these terms are applied to religious Orders."

We now come to the crucial section, 2 of the Brief, in which a summary of grave abuses and of condemnations by Roman Pontiffs is made; not at all a mere "list of charges" as Jesuits pretend, ' or "a mere insinuation of condemnation by means of dexterous phrases" (Fr. Sydney Smith, S.J.), but a downright, straightforward account of the vain efforts of Christ's Vicars to reduce to submission a proud, recalcitrant Order. i Catholic Encyclopedia "Society." 2 No. 22.

"We have observed with bitterest grief that these remedies (of Paul V, Sixtus V, etc.) and others applied afterwards had neither efficacy nor strength enough to put an end to the troubles, the charges and the complaints formed against the Society, and that our predecessors, Urban VII, Clement IX, X, XI, and XII, Alexander VII and VIII, Innocent X, XI, XII, and XIII, and Benedict XIV vainly endeavoured to restore to the Church the desired tranquillity by means of various enactments, either relating to secular affairs with which the Society ought not to concern itself on missions or elsewhere; or relating to grave dissensions and quarrels harshly provoked by its members, not without the risk of loss of souls and to the great scandal of the nations, against the bishops, the religious Orders, and about places consecrated to piety, and also with communities of every kind in Europe, Asia, and America. The same was true with regard, to the practice and Interpretation of certain pagan ceremonies tolerated and. permitted In various places, apart from those which are approved by the Universal Church. Then y tooy there was the use and interpretation of maxims which the Holy See deemed to be scandalous and evidently harmful to morality. Finally, there were other things of great moment and absolutely necessary to preserve the dogmas of the Christian Religion in its purity and integrity. . . ." Clement goes on to relate the measures of some of the Pontiffs who took steps against the Society. Innocent XI had decreed the extinction of the Order by forbidding it to receive any more novices$ he willed that it should die out. Innocent XIII, later on, threatened to do the same. Benedict XIV, like Sixtus V, had given the supreme proof of his distrust and suspicion by ordering a visitation of Jesuit houses and colleges in Portugal and Algarve. But the measures of these and the other nine Pontiffs to chasten the Society failed.

Clement spared, as much as he could, the feelings of the Jesuits by omitting such instances of Jesuit scandals as the Palafox affair. And he was most merciful in the way he alluded to the Jesuit contumacy regarding the Malabar and Chinese rites, and the Jesuit treatment of the Papal Legate, De Tournon. He could, had he wished, have quoted the "terrible decree" (atrox decretum), prepared by Innocent XI, which according to Fr. Cordara, S.J., would

have been "exceedingly bad" (male admodum), for the whole Society, had not Innocent died suddenly.

Clement refers to the pressure brought to bear on the previous Pope by "those whose piety and well-known hereditary devotion to the Society, namely our very dear sons in Jesus Christ, the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal and the Two Sicilies" was unquestionable. But "the sudden death of that Pontiff (Clement XIII), checked all progress in the matter," of suppressing the Society. "Hardly, however, had we by the mercy of God been elevated to the Chair of Saint Peter, than the same prayers were addressed to us," and "a great number of bishops and other personages illustrious for their learning, dignity and virtue united their supplications to this request."

The Cardinals of Spain, together with thirty-four Spanish bishops led by the Archbishop of Seville, were indeed demanding of Clement the suppression of the Society, and from all over the Catholic world bishops and princes were united in urging him to take this step. When, however, a Bourbon ambassador attempted to offer him a bribe he indignantly repulsed him, saying, "I have my honour and my conscience to consult." No motive save his sense of duty compelled Clement to act.

"Compelled by the duty of our Office which essentially obliges us to procure, maintain and strengthen with all our power the repose and tranquillity of Christendom, and to root out entirely what could cause the slightest harm; and, moreover, having recognised that the Society of Jesus could no longer produce the abundant fruit and the great good for which it was instituted . . . and seeing that it was almost and indeed absolutely impossible for the Church to enjoy a true and solid peace while this Order existed ... we do, hereby, after a mature examination and of our certain knowledge, and by the plenitude of our Apostolic power, suppress and abolish the Society of Jesus. We nullify and abrogate all and each of its offices, functions, administration houses, schools, colleges, retreats, etc., etc. . . . Hence we declare as forever broken and entirely extinct all authority, spiritual or temporal, of the General, Provincials, etc.j as regards the missions, we include them in everything that has been ordered in this Suppression. . . ."

Clement foresaw that the Jesuits would strive by some means or

other to discover a way out, an "escape," through some canonical flaw in the structure of the Brief. Therefore, in the most explicit terms, he counters every pretext for evasion. "After the publication of the Brief we forbid any one, no matter who he may be, to dare to suspend its execution . . . under any pretext foreseen or unforeseen . . . for we wish that the suppression and cessation of the whole Society as well as of all its officers should have their full and entire effect at the moment and instantaneously, and in the form and manner which we have described above under pain of major excommunication, incurred i-pso facto by a single act and reserved to us and to the Popes our successors. . . . This is directed against any one who will dare to place the least obstacle, impediment or delay in the execution of this Brief ... we wish . . . that it (this Brief) should never be' attacked, weakened or invalidated on the plea of subreption, obreption, nullity, invalidity, or defect of intention on our part or for any other motive no matter how great or unforeseen or essential it may be or because formalities and other things have been omitted which should have been observed. . . . Moreover, we wish expressly that the 'present Constitution should be from this moment valid, stable, and efficacious forever, that It should have Its full and entire effect; that It should be Inviolably observed by all and each of those to whom It belongs, or •will belong In the future In any manner whatever."

Clement was not incorrect in his estimate of Jesuit disobedience and evasion, for in spite of all these clear and positive and legal Constitutions, the Jesuits completely disregarded the Brief by continuing to function, on various pretexts, in Russia, Prussia, and in China.

An insight into Jesuit psychology is afforded by Fr. Campbell's review of Clement's Constitution. 3 "Such was the famous Brief which condemned the Society to death. Distressing as It Is, It attributes no wrong-doing to the Order. It narrates a few of the accusations against the Jesuits but does not accept them as ever having been proved. The sole reason given for the suppression—and it is repeated again and again—is that the Society was the occasion of much trouble in the Church. It is thus on the whole a vindication and not a condemnation" 8 The Jesuits, p. 572.

There is one particular paragraph in the Brief which is of very exceptional interest, that, namely, in which Clement refers to the supposed confirmation and approval of the Society by the Council of Trent. Evidently, he, Clement, had heard Jesuits claiming that their Institute was in a sense "perfect" because the Council of Trent had approved and confirmed it. And needless to say, a scruple assailed him. What if he were to condemn an Institute that Holy Church had declared "perfect"? So he set himself to examine records of the Council and to assure himself on the point. Now, as a matter of fact, when Ignatius sent two of his men, Lainez and Salmeron, to the Council he ordered them to try to get the Council's approval for the Order. A friendly bishop had protested to him against doing so on the grounds that "no religious order had ever before been approved by any general council of the Church," but apparently Ignatius was cock-sure of securing this valuable and infallible testimony to the perfection of the Institute. Of course, his agents failed egregiously, but they secured, by some obscure intrigue, to have the adjective "pium" (holy) inserted before the word "institutum," when a certain exemption was made in favour of Jesuit novices.

How they managed to secure the insertion of the word "pium" I cannot tell. It may have been put in by the scribe of the Council in writing up in their final form the laws to be passed. The word "institutum" without "pium" occurs on the.agenda papers of the special session (November 30, 1563), and the law I refer to was passed as such. But on the agenda paper of the plenary session (December 3, 1563), there appears the wonderful little word "pium" out of which the Jesuits make so much capital. I do not doubt but that it was inserted without authorisation of any kind. Anyhow even to this day the Jesuits claim that their Institute was "praised" by the Council of Trent, because of this adjective that they had slipped in unawares.

To return to Clement. He set himself, therefore, to see if indeed Trent had "approved and confirmed" the Jesuit Institute as the Order claimed in his day.

"Amongst other things we sought to find out if there existed in fact any justification for the opinion common to very many that the said Order of the clerics of the Society of Jesus had been in a cer-

tain solemn manner approved and confirmed by the Council of Trent. We found that the said Council concerned itself in no way with the said Society save in so far as it exempted it from the general decree in which it was enacted for other Orders of Regu-, lars that as soon as the noviceship was over the novices who were found suitable should be admitted to profession or else dismissed from the monastery. Whereupon the same sacred synod declared it did not wish to introduce any innovation or to prohibit the said order of Clerics of the Society of Jesus from serving God and His Church according to their pious rule which had been approved by the Apostolic See."

Thus Clement found that in spite of Jesuit claims the Council of Trent neither approved nor confirmed nor praised the Jesuit Institute, but simply allowed them an exemption, at which, as will be seen on consulting the Council's records several bishops protested very warmly.

Fr. Campbell, S.J., 4 grossly mistranslates this passage of Clement's Brief y apparently wilfully keeping up the false claim of the Jesuits. His translation reads: "We have especially thought it advisable to find out upon what basis this widespread feeling rested with regard to the Society, which had been confirmed and approved in the most solemn manner by the council of Trent"

Dominus ac Redemptor was the chief work of Clement's pontificate. It reflects the gentle, merciful, and sincere character of its author. It is full of dignity; temperate, mild, and not untouched with pathos. Clement, like all sincere Catholics, felt pain and humiliation that the Order which had been so much to the forefront in fighting the Church's battles for two centuries should have fallen away and become a source of evil and trouble. The sorrow of a Pope in having to admit that the Order, that had been looked upon as "the grenadiers of the Pope's bodyguard," and that had been so highly privileged as to be taken "under the special protection of the Holy See," had proved a traitor to the best interests of the Church, must have been very great. Clement knew well what the cause of the decay in the Order was, and hence his obvious astonishment at the lack of foresight in his predecessors who by multiplying the Order's privileges had accentuated that cause. His duty was a .*Cf. pp. 562, 563.

difficult and unpalatable one, but he faced and achieved it with the strength and simple directness of a true son of Peter. Needless to say, he never retracted what he had done although Jesuits spread rumours to the contrary. How far the Jesuits were from accepting the Brief in holy silence and submission, as they boasted they did, we have already seen, and how contumaciously they disobeyed and vilified the memory of Clement is common history.

• ••••••

Over a hundred years had passed. The Society of Jesus from its moribund state of apostasy in Russia, had sprung to life again and recovered its privileges, when in June, 1904, in one of the Order's beautiful estates, overlooking Richmond Park in London, a Professed Father, the Rev. George Tyrrell, S.J., took up his pen to write, with avowed reluctance, a long letter to the General of the Jesuits, Father Louis Martin.

Tyrrell, at the time, was widely known in England as an ascetic writer of great charm and power. As a young man he had, after much hesitation and searching of heart, joined'the Catholic Church, and somewhat later had entered the Society of Jesus. Among the Jesuits he had promised himself that he would find ideal opportunities for working in the cause of Christian Faith as he understood it. "I entered the Society," he wrote, "not only with a full belief that it still was what it had been at first but with a strong bias to find things as I expected." And, again, "I entered what I thought was a Society devoted to the progressive and expansive interest and I found myself in one sworn to the cause of reaction and intransigence." Fr. Tyrrell had formed his judgment of the Society of Jesus on the basis of its early history, the best days of Ignatius Loyola, whom he looked upon as enterprising, adaptive, unconventional, and as having a deep insight into the needs of his times. Later on, Tyrrell came to recognise that there was a narrow reactionary counterstrain in Ignatius, a spirit assimilated from the autocratic atmosphere in which he lived. "Ignatius Loyola," wrote Tyrrell, "felt the need of elasticity and accommodation to the changed conditions of the New World ... he conceived the idea of an Order whose first principle should be elasticity and accommodation." It was of this Ignatian principle that Tyrrell became enamoured; what he believed to be the liberal spirit of the Society

attracted him. He admired what he considered to be flexibility in Ignatius' rules; the manner in which the Jesuit Institute emancipated itself from office-singing, fixed dress, obligatory penances and ceremonies, and how, "with a view to reconciling the claims of religion with those of the new learning, the rules made learning a condition of solemn profession."

But, alas! "Like every pioneer of a new method, Ignatius never attained to a perfect inward consistency, but strove to combine with those principles which constituted his originality, others derived by education and tradition from Spain of the sixteenth century, with its military spirit, its despotic polity, its contempt of personal liberty of thought and action. It is these traditional elements of his mind, rather than those original and personal elements, that have been developed in the existing Society."

Fr. Tyrrell was not long in the Order before he received cruel shocks. "I had not learnt," he wrote in his biography, "the inevitable discord between the real and the ideal, and the conventional lawfulness of the untruth by which this is steadily denied in the face of noonday facts by those in authority." His first experiences of life in the Order were gained in a Jesuit college in Malta. Of this house he wrote, "I was unutterably shocked and disgusted by the general tone of the community; by the absence of all I had expected to find, and the presence of much that I should have thought incredible. It was almost each member against each and all, and all and each against the head." There, during the spiritual reading at meal-times in the community refectory, he made his first acquaintance with Jesuit vanity and arrogance. He had to listen to the short biographies of Jesuits, read from a book called the Me-nology of the Society of Jesus, which he described as "a series of the most vapid and fulsome eulogies of deceased members."

It is not necessary to trace in detail Fr. TyrrelPs career in the Order. Suffice it to say that he was held in very high esteem for his virtue and learning and received the supreme proof of the Society's approval in being raised to the highest grade in the Order, that of Professed Father. Furthermore, he was appointed professor of theology at Stonyhurst, which office is only given to Jesuits whose orthodoxy is unquestionable. His influence among the members of his own Province became very great and at the time of

his break with the Order he had a considerable "following," quite an unusual phenomenon in the Society where leaders of thought are not tolerated. As his experience of the spirit and policy of the Order grew he became more and more convinced that "not progress as formerly but reaction and intransigence is the cause for which the Society now exists and works." He came to see how baseless was "the common belief among Catholics and Protestants that Jesuits are to-day . . . men keenly alive to the problems of their age and devoted before all things to the reconciliation of faith and knowledge." But far from working for any such enlightened purpose "the Society is leagued with those who are making faith impossible for millions" Instead of finding the Order among the progressive elements of the Church, he found it engaged in holding back the Church from that kind of evolution that even Cardinal Newman recognised as a necessary and noteworthy feature of Catholicism. "Co-existing with a decided preference for reactionary ideas," wrote Tyrrell, "there is not in the Society, as I had long hoped and tried to show, such a tolerance for progressive ideas as is to be found in the more capacious bosom of the Church at large, but on the contrary, and counter to some of the ruling ideas of its Founder, the Society has come to exist and work solely in the interests of that unqualified intransigence which constitutes the Church's gravest danger at the present moment."

The evil turn that the Society took, probably in the days and under the Generalship of that polished and gifted arch-diplomat and steel-gloved autocrat, Claudius Acquaviva, sealed its doom. Fr. Tyrrell never expressed hope for the future of the Society, but he was not merciless about its past. "I do not see in the Society of Jesus a monstrous and deliberate conspiracy against liberty and progress in religion and civilisation. I see in it an institution good in its origin, beneficent in large tracts of its history, serviceable still in many of its ways, well-meaning to a great extent, perhaps mainly; but one which merely through arrested and distorted development and through lack of elasticity has grown out of harmony with a rapidly developing culture; and has thus become on the whole a source of discord and mischief; of a great deal more evil than good. That is not a very sensational conclusion. But it is the more likely to be true. Moreover, it is the conclusion of nearly every Jesuit

who begins to think for himself and to form a judgment about the Institution to which he belongs."

Fr. Tyrrell was provoked into reflections upon the "uncatholi-cism" of the Order by the fact, that in spite of Leo XIII's Bull, Mternl Patris, emphasising the need of Thomistic theology, and insisting on its being taught in Catholic theologates, Fr. Tyrrell was dismissed from his professorial chair on account of teaching Thomas instead of the Suarezian theology that the Society preferred. This proved an eye-opener for him as to the arrogance and ignorance of Jesuit Superiors. Later on came a grave reprimand from Leo to the Society, the letter, Gravissime Nos, but Tyrrell was not reinstated. As a writer on spiritual subjects he began to interpret Christian teaching in a sense little to the liking of his Superiors and he found himself in conflict with the Society's system of censorship. He perceived more and more clearly the hopelessly out-of-touch state of the Society. He found Superiors were utterly indifferent to and ignorant of the trend of modern thought. Furthermore, he saw how great and how injurious was Jesuit influence on the Church of Christ. He observed how surely, if gradually, the Church was being Jesuitised. Authority in the Church was being steadily centralised, after the pattern of the Society, and thanks to its influence. The Pope, since the Vatican Council, where, through Jesuit intrigue, Pius IX had all but attained to that "absolute, irresponsible, personal infallibility," that he claimed, had become more and more of a divine autocrat. Bishops were being stripped of their autonomous rights. And the tendency at Rome was to appoint only nonentities as bishops; men who would be too weak or too ignorant to stand up for their rights against Rome.

Meanwhile in the Society that ''absolutism of the General" that had shocked Clement XIV had increased. Subjects were being treated in a still more marked way as mindless infants. Superiors from the General down were playing their roles of quasi-omniscient, infallible little gods. They talked down to their subjects as though they were incapable of thinking, though these subjects were as often as not immensely superior to them intellectually. Lay-brothers were still forced to lead "unnatural and inhuman lives," and "to serve God in holy simplicity" (and ignorance), all educational facilities being denied them. Recruits were gathered by what

Fr. Tyrrell called a spiritual "press-gang" system. "If possible the boy leaves college for the Noviceship ignorant of the law of genera-. tion. Once there it is not hard to get him through his two years of probation and to let him vow perpetual chastity and celibacy in this same ignorance. The common sense of all mankind and their sense of justice cry out 'shame' on the transaction and laugh at the supposed validity of the fraudulent contract. You (Society of Jesus!) not so. Your theological quibbles have made out the necessary case for validity, and Rome is coaxed into silence if not into acquiescence." This "press-gang" system, however, had brought its own punishment, for the Society, instead of being a select body of highly qualified and saintly men, had degenerated into "a vast ecclesiastical militia of mentally and morally average men."

Much if not all of these criticisms of the Order were contained in the long and cruel letter that Fr. Tyrrell wrote from Richmond Park to his General at Rome. He showed the General how Jesuitism was "just the counter-extravagance to Protestantism." While Protestantism meant irresponsible liberty, Jesuitism meant equally irresponsible coercion of mind and will. Why either extreme? Surely there could be found a via media, a path along which all Christians could walk in harmony and peace. "The Society's boast is to have stayed the spread of Protestantism, and to have saved half Europe to the Church. Its success has been its ruin; its action has been met with reaction; in buttressing authority it has crushed liberty and established absolutism; and as a result Protestantism lives still to protest more than ever. Doubtless the via media, the true synthesis of liberty and authority, is still to seek and while this is the case the Catholic Church will choose Jesuitism rather than Protestantism." But, of the two extremes, Tyrrell seemed to think that Protestantism was less far from the spirit of Christ than Jesuitism.

"What I have said," he tells the General, "a hundred Jesuits are saying every day." Not, of course, in the hearing of Superiors, but quietly and among themselves. "Internal dissension is rife . . . the young men are already in revolt, such among them at least as think for themselves. . . . Superiors can no longer rule . . . the irresistible causes of the Society's decay are in the psychological atmosphere of the age."

Fr. Tyrrell concludes with a boast, a boast that may seem very

trivial to the uninitiated, but not so to those who understand what life in the Society means. "It is a good life's work," wrote Fr. Tyrrell, "to have arrived by personal experience and reflection at the solution of so plausible a fallacy as that of Jesuitism."

Tyrrell's indictment of the Society of Jesus may be summed up under three heads. ( l ) Pride blinding it to the possibility of progress. (2) Absolutism alien to the Christian spirit. (3) Internal decay and corruption.

(i) As regards the Society's pride in its infallibility and in its achievements, which preclude the possibility of further advance, he writes, "In theology, philosophy and letters, her Ratio Studiorum is the ultimate irref ormable standard. She has said the last word in as-cetical, in mystical and in moral theology. How could she afford to allow that she had ought to learn from the age? And so her intransigence must be put forward as .orthodoxy, as the true Catholicism, while progressive ideas must be banned as unusual, suspect and heterodox. Rooted in the very heart of the Church of Rome, she stretches out her arms and tentacles through every fibre of its organisation, gripping it fast as ivy grips the oak and forbids its expan-

sion."

(2) As regards unchristian absolutism.

"Neither in the government of the Apostles by Christ, or of the Church by the Apostles, is there the slightest trace of that dominating, autocratic, arbitrary rule which the text in question, 'Who hears you, hears Me' (Qui vos audit, Me audit), is often adduced to justify. This dictatorial regimen was imported from the State into the Church in a military age when no other conception of government was possible and before men were ripe for the liberty written broad over the face of the Gospel. If churchmen still cling to it after the age has abandoned it, they must expect to be cut off more and more from the general life and to be regarded as a gens luclfuga (a people who shun the light), wedded to principles subversive of the existing bases of social order and progress."

(3) As regards internal decay and corruption in the Society. This commenced when Ignatius' original system of sympathetic

internal government was replaced by "external government consequent on the vast numerical increase of inferior members." Even before the death of Ignatius the unfortunate change had begun. In

his old age Ignatius had lost much of his vision and mental poise. He was worried, in ill-health, and over-worked, and he gave reins to the traditional side of his character, his inherited autocracy. The "syndicus" came into being, "the secret informer who reports the sayings and doings of the community to the Rector and of the Rector to the Provincial." Spiritual training in the Order took the form of "humbling, degrading and depersonalising the mind of the subject." With external government, the spy system, and the degradation of the subjects, scandals began, though, as Fr. Tyrrell wisely remarks, "scandals prove nothing unless they can be shown to result 'per se from the principles according to which the Order is governed, Le., unless it can be shown that as a rule good men become less good or bad, and that bad men become worse. But this cuts both ways, for neither can the Society claim credit for the goodness and holiness of many of her members unless it can be shown to be a $er se result of her methods." "In spite of the somewhat perilous boast to the contrary, the Society is just as liable to moral and spiritual corruption as any other Order; has been very corrupt in certain parts, at certain times, and is at present anything but edifying in some of the Latin provinces."

• • • • • t *

That Fr. Tyrrell was a sincere and able thinker, as well as a brilliant writer, there can be no doubt. Neither can his knowledge of the Society be called in question. He was sensitive, of course, and possibly the harshness and stupidity of the Jesuit Censors of his books, whose judgment he was supposed to accept as that of God, hurt and bruised his soul into a certain bitterness. But his honesty of mind was clear to all. Even the General of the Order, Fr. Louis Martin, had to admit it. "Never have I had any doubt about the candour and sincerity of mind of your Reverence" he wrote to Fr. Tyrrell. 5 And furthermore Tyrrell never allowed the cruel and bitter persecutions that he subsequently suffered from the Society of Jesus to alienate him from his love of true Catholicism. "Not that I would ever cease to labour for the true understanding of Catholicism and for its defence against the perversion of obscurantists."

• ••••••

Like Clement, Tyrrell "loved justice and hated iniquity." Like 6 February 15, 1904.

Clement's, his heart was set on the harmonious peace of a great Christian Church. Like Clement, he discovered that there was an evil influence in the Church, stirring up discord, rivalry, and bitterness. And he finally identified it with the selfish and arrogant spirit of his own Order. Clement, as Pope, struck at this evil thing in Dominus ac Redemftor. Tyrrell, while still a Professed Father, struck at it by his Letter to the General. No valid defence against either indictment of the Society of Jesus was ever attempted, and only a futile effort would be possible. But another form of defence was undertaken with a certain success by the "Little Company of Jesus." Clement's peace of mind was harried by Jesuit intrigues; terror of poisoning haunted his shattered nerves; and his name was dragged in the mud after his death. Tyrrell was driven from the Church that he loved; prevented from having Christian burial after his death; and Catholics were taught to hiss at the opprobrious name of the "Apostate Tyrrell."

There is much in common between the two documents that we hive been considering, the Dominus ac Redemptor and the Letter to the General. Both emphasise the extravagant absolutism of Jesuit Government and the disregard of the rights of subjects. Clement dwells on the atrocious Jesuit system of "dismissal," and Tyrrell on the degradation of the subject's mind and character. Both protest at the unfair treatment of Jesuit novices, Clement because the Society keeps them from their definite right, accorded by the Council of Trent, to their vows, Tyrrell because the Order keeps them in the dark about what life means. Both are horrified at attempts to Jesuitise the Church, Clement because of the disregard of bishops' rights which it involved, and Tyrrell because of the inevitable reaction entailed. In the two documents, Jesuits are held responsible for the bitterness and discord rife in' the bosom of the Church; in this they are in agreement with Thomas Carlyle that the Society of Jesus is "the poison fountain from which these rivers of bitterness that now submerge the world have flown." "Christ," as Clement wrote early in his Brief, "was not the God of dissension but of peace and love." Both documents refer to the internal dissensions in the Order, and to the contumacious attitude of the Order towards Popes. Tyrrell openly accuses the Order of a "Protestantism," Clement of foisting false

doctrines on the faithful. Both see in Jesuit practices the doctrine of "private interpretation." As another "apostate" wrote of the Order: "If a Pope could strip their Order (The Jesuits) of those distinctions and privileges which in their conviction peculiarly fitted it to carry on the Holy War, he was not acting as the Vicar of Christ, and his commands must be evaded. It did not occur to them that this was, in the end, the Protestant principle of private judgment against which they thundered the doctrines of papal authority. They were the children of Ignatius and had always felt that his private judgment was the judgment of God. So Jesuitism moved slowly towards the inevitable goal." 6 The salient common point of Dominus ac Redem'ptor and the Letter to the General is, however, the straight appeal that is made to Christ's faithful to recognise in Jesuitism something alien to the spirit of the simple, gentle, loving Jesus of Nazareth.

Tyrrell parted from the Society of Jesus because he felt convinced that the Order was no longer "labouring in the vineyard" of Christ. He did not seek any dispensations from his vows because he believed that his vows were non-existent. He had, he felt, been substantially deceived, in the making of the vows, and the Society was entirely to blame for this deception. On the other hand, the Order proclaimed that he was a fugitive, and an apostate, and proceeded to "dismiss" him, and to warn all the faithful to have nothing to do with him as he was excommunicated.

Tyrrell tried to find a bishop who would receive him into his diocese but he discovered, as so many other ex-Jesuits have discovered, that the Order goes beforehand prejudicing bishops and defaming their ex-brethren. Finally, when he died, Christian burial was refused his remains. This final dishonour would not have befallen him but for the vindictive intrigues of the Order.

But, say the friends of the Order, had he not been excommunicated? Had he not taught false doctrines? Had he not upset the peace of the Church? Had he not sought the favour of heretics, and taken refuge in their midst? Had he not refused to submit to the papal decree of Piux X? And so forth. Yet they can find no accusation to make against Tyrrell that cannot be turned with a hundredfold force against the Society of Jesus!

6 McCabe, A Candid History of the Jesuits, p. 62. Putnam.

Had not the Order been condemned again and again for teaching false doctrines; not by one but by many Popes? Had it not been excommunicated countless times by bishops, archbishops and papal legates? Had it not upset the peace of the Church in every country in the world? Had it not, when suppressed by Clement, sought the favour of the heretics, Frederick of Prussia and Catherine of Russia, and taken refuge in their midst? Had it not refused to submit to Clement's Brief? In fine, what opprobrious title was there which the Jesuits applied to Tyrrell, whether of apostate, fugitive, or excommunicate, that had not been fulminated against the Order itself again and again by the authority of the Church?

CHAPTER XIV

REMINISCENCES AND REFLECTIONS

THE scene of a ludicrous experience was the Noviceship refectory at Tullabeg (Ireland). It happened during dinner. It was all over a glass of beer. In the background lay a titanic struggle between my sense of human respect and a desire to assert my independence.

The Noviceship refectory was, especially during dinner, as solemn as a cathedral during a Requiem Mass. Around the room, with their backs to the walls, and facing a high lectern in the centre, from which a young religious read of things high and holy, were seated the novices and some ten grave Fathers. At the head of the room sat the Master of Novices, stern, dignified and vigilant. Close by him sat his Socius (Assistant), still more stern and vigilant, but possessed of no dignity whatsoever. Tension, strain and the most profound decorum prevailed; each novice eating his meal as though it were a religious ceremony conducted in the presence of the invisible Christ.

The serving at the table was performed by novices, whose every movement was carefully regulated, and whose comings and goings were silent, modest, and swift. At a certain moment a novice entered carrying a can of beer, and passed round the tables, prepared to fill any glass that might be moved out towards him. But not once in a twelve-month was he called on to fill a glass, for the novices, though free to take beer if they wished, were afraid to do so, and the fathers who knew that the beer was of the poorest quality, had too much interest in their physical well-being to drink it. The drone of the pious reading deadened the sound of knife and fork, and punctually to the minute the Superior used to tap the table as a signal and the meal was over.

One day I entered the refectory trembling with excitement. I had been thinking things over and had come to the conclusion that

it was not virtue but human respect that was keeping me from taking a glass of beer. I had resolved to exercise my strength of will, and assert my independence of human respect. I was resolved, cost what it might, to do so, and the struggle was a terrific one. I knew I should not enjoy the beer, but I should perfect my character, and like every other novice I was deeply concerned about self-perfection. As the dinner proceeded I became more and more nervous. I couldn't think of anything but the ordeal that lay before me. I knew my action would cause a mild sensation; that every one in the refectory would notice that "Br. Barrett" took beer, and I guessed that there would be considerable criticism of my conduct. But what did I care, so long as I was acting within my rights and from a pure and lofty' motive?

At length the moment arrived when the novice with the beer-can started his swift circuit of the refectory. I put out my glass and held my breath. He came to where I was— and 'passed —he had not seen my glass! Then events began to move swiftly. The lynx-eyed Socius had of course seen me moving my glass. Loudly and furiously he began to signal to the "beer-novice" to come back. Every one looked up. The Superior fixed his eyes upon me, evidently wondering what had come over me. Had I lost my vocation? At last the trembling novice returned with the can. Then, horror of horrors, another catastrophe! The beer-can was empty! The novice had not filled it, calculating that no one would want beer! Once more the irascible Socius got active. He called up the "beer-novice" and reprimanded him, sending him to the cellar for beer. My cheeks were all the while suffused with blushes. I was the unhappy centre of attention. For a few minutes there was a lull in the excitement; then the "beer-novice" reappeared with a full can and hastened to where I was, and filled my glass.

Up to this point only natural forces were in play. But now the Supernatural took a part in my discomfiture. I stretched out my palsied hand to take in the ill-fated glass of beer, when, lo! the bottom fell out of the glass and the beer spilled over the immaculate tablecloth and polished floor. There commenced a veritable hue and cry. The Socius was on his feet; all the servers were hurrying with mops; the "beer-novice," pale as death!, was standing by. The Superior himself added to the confusion. At last a new

glass was procured and filled for me, and I, almost sick with shame and excitement, quaffed the cup of sorrow.

The incident had its sequel. My conduct, though not directly commented on by Superiors, was taken as an illustration of a certain dangerous independence in my character. And the story of the one Juryman, who although in a minority of one in a disagreement, called the rest of the Jury "obstinate," was repeated to me ad nauseam.

»•••••*

It is well known that novices in their spiritual intensity go easily from one extreme to another. And so from my belief in the virtue of independent action, I swung, under the advice of Superiors, to the other extreme of keeping in line in all things during my Novice-ship. This determination survived an interesting and severe test shortly afterwards.

Among the Superiors who were constantly warning me to toe the line and obey with the blindest possible obedience, was the Socius referred to abovej an irascible, sulky little man, who hated me very heartily, and who made things as disagreeable for me as he possibly could. Still I bore him no ill-will, for in my piety I believed that he like every other living Jesuit was, in spite of appearances to the contrary, at heart a saint.

The test of my blind obedience, which I have alluded to as interesting and severe, occurred during a fire which broke out in the Noviceship shortly afterwards. The fire was not very serious, but the house was filled with dense and stifling smoke. The novices' quarters were out of reach of the smoke as a door intervened, so when the Novice Master visited us he told us to remain where we were, and "under no circumstances to go outside our own quarters." That was definite and clear, and most of us were prepared, if necessary, to die as spiritual Casabiancas! Well, a few minutes later, I happened to be near the door that cut off the Noviceship from the smoke, and I heard deep groans just at the other side of the door. I recognised the groans as those of the Socius. Evidently he had been overcome by smoke and had fallen outside the Novice-ship door. What was I to do? Was I to act with judgment and independence and open the door and pull him in, even though in so doing I was "going outside the novices' quarters"? There was no

question of danger, or risk of a physical kind, but there was danger of breaking the rule! I had been given the rule of blind obedience; it had been emphasised in my case; I had been warned against trusting my own judgment. So with a pious prayer for his safety, I passed on my way and left him to his fate!

I was never blamed for doing so. To that extent at least my Superior was consistent. Fortunately the poor man was rescued before too late. He would, however, have been spared a severe illness had I had the good sense to follow my own judgment and break the rule.

The incident shook my faith in the virtue of blind obedience; the virtue, as Fr. Tyrrell defined it, "of shifting one's convictions at the mot d'ordre of a Superior," a virtue which finally results in one having no convictions at all.

• ••••••

In writing of Voltaire, Will Durant says: 1 "his later educators the Jesuits gave him the very instrument of scepticism by teaching him dialectic—the art of proving anything, and therefore at last the habit of believing nothing." In their own defence the Jesuits use dialectic in a bewildering way. To their own satisfaction they have disentangled themselves from indictments and charges and accusations of every conceivable kind. "The Society," wrote Fr. Tyrrell, "cannot for a moment afford to allow that it has ever done wrong or could need reform." Common-sense Jesuits, however, are well aware that the pose of being "blameless and perfect" is in a high degree perilous and they await the day when it will be cast aside.

Jesuit dialectic has to some extent the same effect on individual Jesuits that Durant recognised in Voltaire. They come to doubt about almost everything, and are far from sure how much they believe or disbelieve. They continue to teach the old doctrines of the Order through routine rather than conviction. For the most part they would just as readily teach the opposite of these doctrines. Their attitude towards tenets of philosophy and theology is entirely impersonal. Not being allowed to think for themselves or hold the opinions that appear good to them, they take but a limited interest in what they "hold" and teach. 1 Cf. Story of Philosophy, p. 222.

It was the common opinion of my class fellows in dogmatic theology that our Jesuit professor, an exceedingly brilliant dialectician, believed very little about anything. The only intellectual sincerity he ever displayed was in his destructive criticisms. .The only reality that there was for him in a city was what was left of it after it was burned to the ground.

Yet this clever sceptic, who believed almost nothing of theology and theologians, would unreservedly accept as absolutely true any tale reported to him by one of his young lady penitents.

• ••••••

There are in the Society of Jesus two distinct classes: the ruling class and the rank and file. The ruling class formulates the policy of the Society. The rank and file do most of the work. In the former class there is a sincere or simulated regard for the Constitutions. The latter class in general knows little about them, and is at the mercy of Superiors. In both classes there are pious men and worldlings; money-makers and money-spenders; scholars and unlettered men; wags and fools. But it is among the rank and file that are to be found the best human types and the idealists. The Superiors are nominated from a fairly narrow ring. They are changed from one house to another as their period of Superiority expires. They are, unless they have proved disastrous failures, reappointed in due time. And it usually happens that men who have once been chosen as suitable for Superiority, remain, with short intervals between their various terms of office, Superiors all their lives.

A Superior is never chosen from the rank and file. There is no such thing as promotion; and seniority counts for nothing in the appointment of Superiors. It is an indefinable kind of moderation and prudence, together with practicality, that tells in the choice of Superiors.

Professed Fathers are numerous in the ruling class. They are supposed to form the nucleus of the Society; the fiece de resistance. They assume, as a rule, lordly airs; they participate in the secrets of government. The rank and file are glad of an opportunity of making fun of them, and enjoy to the full their mistakes and foibles. They feel no pride in them nor loyalty towards them. On the contrary, they think very poorly of the majority of them.

The cleavage between the ruling class and the rest is marked very clearly, but the rank and file, taking it as a matter of course that they should never be called on to govern, are not greatly concerned over the matter.

The existence of the two classes has had an important bearing on the evolution of the Society of Jesus. Among the rank and file there is a home for the disgruntled, the disappointed, and the unjesuitical types. There are many good humans in the Order who would long since have left were it not for the existence of this underworld. It is in a sense the "opposition" and affords an escape from the core of the Society. It would be impossible that such a vast number of men who are wholly out of sympathy with Jesuitism as such could still remain in the Order were it not for this "opposition" class. I have known great numbers in the Society who heartily hated the ways of the 1 Order, and the mentality of the Order, and yet they somehow found they could still live on in it, on account of the existence of this very large class of underdogs.

The ruling class, the true Society, is small in number. It comprises at most ten per cent of the whole. It holds, as I have said, all the power; it is in reality a coterie, a clique, a cabal. In it are the Superiors, actual, potential, and past; the consultors; the censors; the procurators; and the holy men of the Jesuit ascetical type. In addition it includes the great money-getters of the province, and the chief syndici or spies.

Among the rank and file one finds, besides the loyal but unsophisticated pious Jesuits, the disgruntled, the rebels, the disedifying, the dreamers and idealists, the unpractical, the erratic, and above all the imprudent.

One finds, of course, Professed Fathers in this latter class who have fallen from their high estate; and one finds some Coadjutors in the former class who have made good in the eyes of the Order.

• •••*••

The existence of these two great classes is not recognised by the Constitutions. They are a natural evolution, due to psychological causes. No writer on the Jesuits has, I think, hitherto recognised their existence, but they are there plainly to be seen. The more odious tjiings that belong to the "Mind of the Order" are not

usually to be found in the mentality of the rank and file. Indeed, it is hardly true to say that the rank and file are Jesuits in the accepted sense of the word. For the most part they are in active revolt against Jesuitism. They eat their bread, and sleep and clothe themselves in the shadow of Ignatius' statue, but they are no more Ignatians than are the Dominicans.

• ••••••

It was the widespread discrepancy between the ideals of the Society, as described in Jesuit literature, and the actual practices in vogue in the Order that for years proved an insoluble puzzle to me. But the puzzle was eventually solved though too late for my peace of, mind, when I found that the vast majority of so-called Jesuits lived in open repudiation of the tenets of Jesuitism, while those who professed Jesuitism fell far short in their practices of its ascetical demands. It is interesting to notice how in the Order "class-consciousness" is felt. The ruling class tend to gravitate more and more to certain definite houses, and the rank and file have a social life of their own about which the other class knows comparatively little. The funds of the Society are of course all vested in the names of tried and true rulers, but on the other hand it is the members of the rank and file who are best known and most

,«

liked by the Catholic public.

• • • • • • •

There is a curious attitude with regard to recreation in the Society of Jesus. Recreation is regarded as a Community Duty. Hence the term "compulsory recreation"; as distinguished from "free recreation." In general, recreation means sitting in a rather sombre parlour for about an hour after dinner, with the rest of the Fathers, some of whom read newspapers, while others talk or look out the window. It is a punishable offence to be absent from recreation without permission. After the hour is over the "compulsory recreation" is finished, but on certain days one may continue the recreation (free recreation) for an additional half hour. And it is considered edifying to do so and to show appreciation of the liberality of "Our Holy Mother the Society." The monotony of these official recreations is sometimes enlivened by an acrimonious dispute between two Fathers, to which the rest listen with amusement. Or it may happen that there is some simple Father to "rag,"

or "draw out." But usually the time passes very slowly; conversation is dull; and each one is anxious to escape to his room for a smoke or a siesta, as soon as the bell rings to signal the end of recreation.

Among the younger men games are sometimes allowed during recreation. While at Louvain, on holidays, it was permitted to play football immediately after dinner. The Belgians who are heavy eaters, and for the most part poorly developed physically, used play nevertheless with great energy and excitement. They were not very proficient exponents of the game, "association football," but they were unaware of the fact. On one occasion they challenged the "foreigners," that is, the American, Irish and English Jesuits, to an international contest. Their challenge was accepted readily. The game was as usual to take place after dinner. The foreigners ate and drank modestly in anticipation of the strenuous exercise that lay before them. The Belgians, however, firmly believing in the efficacy of beer and veal, ate and drank in a notably more ample way than usual. Some of them were half drunk when the game started, and more frequently than not kicked the air instead of the ball when it came their way, and fell on their backs. An easy victory for the "foreigners" resulted.

• ••*•••

While at Louvain, I had as sub-Superior a very pious, emaciated little man, Fr. De V., who conceived the idea that I was far advanced in the Spiritual Life, on the road, indeed, to canonisation. It was rather embarrassing for me, as I knew he took it as a matter of course that I should keep all the rules most perfectly. I felt pity for the little man and hated the idea of disappointing him in his expectations about me. He seemed so frail and wraithlike, and yet so utterly artificial in his piety, though unconsciously so. On one occasion a large parcel of "goodies" came to me by mail from Ireland and as my rule indicated I carried it to Fr. De V. to ask what to do with it. Alas! he accepted it for the Community, and I went back to my room feeling very sore. However, he was truly edified by my "strict observance," for a month or so later he called at my room. In his hand he held a small packet which he gave me with a celestial smile. "Voila, cher f rere, ga vous f era du bien" ("Here, dear Brother, that will do you good"), he said, hand-

ing me the packet. When he departed I eagerly opened the packet. Within a wrapping of much coloured paper I found two tiny pieces of candy! He had walked nearly half a mile to give them to me.

• ••••••

While teaching in the colleges I had as fellow master a very learned but erratic young Jesuit, who was affectionately called the "bear." He was excitable and irascible but none the less lovable, and not unfrequently he was the object of practical jokes. His chief weakness was getting up late. It was impossible to awaken him in the morning and in spite of the efforts of his friends to cover up his unpunctuality he wasi very often in hot water with his Superiors.

His friends at length determined to give him a lesson and they seized an occasion when he was called away one evening to deliver a lecture. He was not expected back until very late.

First of all, an immense bear-skin was carried from the college museum and placed on his bed. A lighted candle was fixed in the bear's right paw, and in his left was placed a spiritual book opened at a chapter which dealt with the blessings that were bestowed on those who rise early. The bear's head was bent over the book as though reading it attentively.

At length the hour came for our erratic fellow Jesuit to arrive. He hurried into his room not suspecting anything. There was a moment of silence, then a roar of laughter and his friends trooped into his room to offer their sympathy.

• • •* • • • ' *

It is usually thought the Jesuits are very great scholars and that they spend their days poring over books of lore. This is one of the commonest of the false impressions entertained about the Society. It is true that young Jesuits work hard at philosophy and theology as a rule and read a considerable amount. It is also true that here and there one comes across Jesuits with scientific "fads" who read considerably. Also one meets in nearly every Jesuit House at least one cultured and well-read man. But the ordinary Jesuit has no taste for science or learning, and pretends that he has no time for serious reading. He has, however, ample time for novel-reading and for reading the newspapers. Occasionally, too, the average

Jesuit picks up a review article and interests himself in it. But a very little of serious reading suffices him.

I remember being much struck by the contrast between the professors who were teaching me at London University, Starling, Watson, Hill, Elliot Smith, Bayliss, Spearman, and others, and the Jesuit professors I had known in the Society. The former were serious and hard-working scholars. The latter were for the most part, whatever their gifts of mind, mere triflers. I never knew any Jesuit to work so conscientiously as did men like Watson (Zoology), or Hill (Physiology), or Spearman (Psychology). These men were whole-heartedly devoted to science. Jesuits are only "interested in" it. For Jesuits, science is only a means to help them in their Apostolic work, and to maintain the undeserved reputation of the Order for learning. ,

There is, besides, deeply embedded in the minds of Jesuits the idea that the chief end and aim of scientists is to overthrow religion, and discredit the Catholic Church. Hence they look upon scientists with suspicion, and regard the advance of science from the viewpoint of increased "danger." Jesuit books of science, such as they are, are hailed as "refutations" "answers to attacks" and so forth. Catholics seem unconsciously to look to Jesuits to police science, rather than to nourish or encourage it. It was in no sense my intention, when writing "The New Psychology" to refute heresy, or defend the Church. Yet, in the concluding sentence of a laudatory review by a Jesuit, came the words: "Fr. Boyd Barrett's book is fart of the Churches answer to the latest attack" Why the study of the sub-conscious and the devising of methods for relieving mind-trouble should be regarded as an "attack on the Church" I fail to see. Yet such it is in the mind of the Jesuits.

• ••••••

Instinctively the Order has manifested its dislike of psychoanalysis and modern psychology. It sensed at once that to some extent at least psycho-analysts would interfere in matters that hitherto belonged to the Confessor. It pretended to see in psychoanalysis a kind of lay-confession.

Lay-confession! The idea was shocking and abominable! The discussion of sex outside the confessional! Inevitable corruption and

immorality! Sex had ever been the bugaboo of the Society, and now sex was to be studied scientifically. Catholics were going to be told that the sex-impulse played an important part in social life and that perfect mental equilibrium was impossible unless sex found an outlet in some way or other. What would become of the Jesuit thesis that in the matter of sex-sin there was nothing of minor gravity; that every fully deliberate indulgence of a sex-impulse, even if it were only the stroking of a child's hair, was ipo facto a mortal sin? "Under pain of excommunication . . . privation of office . . . etc. . . . and other penalities . . . members of the Society are -prohibited, either in public or in private, to teach as true, or 'probable, or even tolerable, the opinion of those who maintain that in sex matters a trifling 'pleasure, deliberately sought for and consented to, on account of ( smallness of matter' may be excused from mortal guilt; or to show that such an opinion pleases them; or to give counsel to any one in accordance with such an opinion." 2

There is a special precept on all Jesuits 8 secretly to denounce to Superiors any other Jesuit who offends against the Censure just quoted.

No doubt the Order saw at an early date in the development of psycho-analysis, that research into the science of sex, and a fuller biological and physiological knowledge of what sex meant, would discredit the Society's attitude and teaching in the matter. What would psycho-analysts think of the pious story that Saint Francis Xavier had burst a blood vessel when asleep in a fierce struggle that he had with an alluring dream?

• • • • • • •

No one denies that, in the morbid discussion of sex, incentives to impropriety may arise, whether the discussion take place in the confessional or in the psycho-analyst's office. But in each case there are protective motives of self-interest, as well as virtue, at work. The confessor knows well that anything in the nature of "solicitation" will lead eventually to his being unfrocked. And the analyst knows that his fee as well as his good name will be lost if he loses self-control. The Jesuit is excessively suspicious of the conduct and advice of the analyst; and the analyst is perhaps excessively

2 Epit. Const. 913. 8 Ibid., 914.

suspicious of the conduct and advice of the Jesuit; there, I suppose, the matter ends.

• • • • • • •

The attachment of some Jesuits to the Society is very real and very sincere. Sometimes it is a spiritual attachment founded in the firm faith that life in the Society is the one sure and peaceful road to heaven. Other times it is founded in the human love of dear Jesuit friends and in the memory of many bright and happy hours. There is something pathetic in this latter kind of attachment to the Society. The bright and happy hours, that one enjoys in the Society, are more often than not, snatched at the expense of conscience.

Again and again, I have had moments of sheer delight and gaiety in the Order; reunions in rooms where amid smoke and laughter there were good yarns and jolly songs, and perhaps a little wine to^pass around, or if not wine something good to eat, surreptitiously obtained. But looking back on these "bright spots" it is impossible to. disguise the fact that the joys were stolen; "Our Holy Mother the Society" stood frowning in the background.

There are Jesuits who pretend that "holy joy" is an attainable substitute for the ordinary pleasures of life. But very few Jesuits in practice manifest such a belief.

One meets many types of bores in the Society; of whom the worst of all is the cheerful saint with the utterly doleful face. Fear of hell is stamped upon his countenance all day long, and yet when he meets you he seems to regard it as his duty to "cheer you up." "Cheer up! cheer up! I heard a funny story once. . . ." He tells the funny story with his mind concentrated on the careful avoidance of the slightest disedifying ingredient that might possibly be contained therein. Then he hurries off, mumbling his prayers, self-satisfied at having done his duty and "cheered some one up."

• ••••••

There is a great wastage of good* material in the Society of Jesus. Young men enter, of real ability, and full of generous purpose. They try to conform to the standards of the Society. In many cases they make heroic efforts to do so, but in the end they find that it leads nowhere. Self-extinction, and a complete holocaust of all plans, purposes, ideals, and potentialities, lies before them.

The Jesuit'Enigma

They accept the holocaust in due time, having striven in vain to find an outlet for their activities, but having accepted it, they become spiritless, disillusioned, and cynical. They feel profound disappointment because they realise that it was for something other than self-extinction they entered the Order. They find themselves in very truth "old men's staffs" without initiative and without vitality.

There is no doubt as widespread and profound cynicism in the Jesuit Order as in any other religious association in the world.

• •••*»•

As might be expected few Jesuits manifest interest in or capacity for artistic work. It is true that there have been a few Jesuit poets of ability, and a few members of the South Europe Provinces have been painters of some little merit, but apart from these the Order has done little or nothing for art. Some of course attempt to paint but their productions are of the crudest kind imaginable. One Father I knew who did Madonnas in oils that were so awful that his brethren were afraid to enter his room lest they should see them and hurt his feelings by laughing.

In contradistinction to this dearth of artistic ability, Jesuits show great aptitude in constructing mechanical devices. I knew one Father who succeeded in taking excellent photographs from the air by flying a kite which supported a camera. Another young Jesuit I knew could make wonderful clocks out of sticks, stones and bits of wire. Another was able to construct a very perfect seismograph which he installed and which recorded excellently. Practical, mechanical ability is quite common in the Order. No doubt it offers a satisfactory outlet for repressed emotions.

Many Jesuits are very competent judges of athletics, and their opinions on sport are usually well worth hearing. I knew one Father who could give the name and history of every horse that won the Grand National or the Derby for a period of thirty years.

• • • '• • • ' •

Catholics are accustomed to think of Jesuits as the intellectual defenders of the Church. They imagine that the Church would suffer a serious deprivation if the Society of Jesus ceased to exist. Who could replace the Jesuit writers, teachers, and retreat-givers, they ask? Who could supply their place as the "intellectuals" of Catholicism?

Personally I know no country in which the Catholic Church would suffer any serious inconvenience from the suppression of the Order. There are now many Catholic schools and colleges which surpass those of the Jesuits. Jesuits are no longer leaders in Catholic educational enterprise. In very many respects they are far behind the Benedictines, an older, saner and more humane Order. As scientific writers, very few Jesuits attract notice. In any case it would be better for the Catholic Church if scientific questions were left to competent lay Catholics, and if scientific issues were considered on their own merits and not through theological spectacles. As regards Jesuit retreats and missions, it seems to many thoughtful Catholics that in general the effects of the "Spiritual Exercises" are far from being wholesome. As regards Jesuits being "intellectuals," every well-trained college graduate is able to see through the pose of the average Jesuit, and is able to recognise his limitations in scholarship. Besides, if Jesuits are "intellectuals," how is it that the standing of their Universities in this country is so low? What is the depth of the scholarship displayed in the Catholic Encyclopedia, in the production of which the foremost Jesuits of the whole world collaborated? What if professors of Yale or Harvard should read the articles therein which touch on the topics that are the object of their special studies and express their opinions of Jesuit learning?

* • • • • 5 •

The Church has suffered in many ways from the presence of the Society of Jesus in its ranks, and from the influence it has exercised. There has been disturbance of peace and ill-will aroused, in every place where the Jesuits have been. But worse than this the Society has awakened a spirit of rivalry, competition and hustling in religion that has not told for good. No doubt in business the "practical spirit" is invaluable. It is important to count, to check up results, to advertise loudly, to outbid rivals, to push new undertakings noisily and vigorously, to scream out at the top of the voice the kinds of wares one has for sale, and the discount that one is ready to give for cash. But is the "practical spirit" the best thing in Religion? Are the ways of the Holy Spirit kindred to the ways of Broadway or Wall Street? Do the Jesuits deserve praise for introducing into sacred things the material methods of business?

The Jesuit Enigma

"Human means are not only not to be despised, but even .when there be need, prudently and religiously employed." 4

Once competition, advertising, propaganda, was introduced into Apostolic work and Religion the fat was in the fire. To-day we see the consequences in those "rivers of religious bitterness" that Thomas Carlyle, while bewailing, attributed to the Jesuits.

'••••••

Perhaps it may be well to give one or two illustrations of competitive Jesuit methods in Religion. The first illustration has already been referred to. Early in the history of the Order a privilege was obtained from the Pope whereby Jesuits could build a church close up to the churches belonging to other Orders. Canon law had hitherto forbidden "poaching" on the spiritual territory of another Order. This did not suit the Jesuits. They determined to poach and they obtained the privilege of poaching. Who can pretend that "competition" of this kind was good for Religion?

• • • • • • •

Another instance of a different kind. At Paray-le-Monial in France a nun, afterwards beatified, as Blessed Margaret Mary, had visions late in the seventeenth century. Through the visions was founded the devotion to the Sacred Heart. The Jesuits "captured" this devotion, for Margaret Mary had foretold to her Jesuit confessor that the Jesuits would spread the devotion. When full authorisation was obtained from Rome the Jesuits set to work. Sodalities were formed; shrines were built; pious papers printed; Novenas instituted, and so forth. It was pushed in the same businesslike way in which the devotion to the "Little Flower" has recently been pushed. It proved an immense source of revenue to the Society. No doubt too it was a source of great good. But the method in which it was "put across" was advertising and the salesman's art. This is particularly illustrated in one detail of the devotion— the "Twelfth Promise."

By this promise, originating in a vision of Margaret Mary, salvation is guaranteed for every one who makes the Jesuit "Nine First Fridays" Novena. Jesuits know perfectly well that the "Twelfth Promise," as simple-minded Catholics interpret it, is ab-4 Reg. Miss. 14.

surd and even heretical, and yet the Society of Jesus, seeing good business in it, will not disillusion the pious faithful. Such are the results of introducing "the practical spirit" into Religion.

Jesuitism should be looked upon as an adventurous experiment made on behalf of the Church, rather than a venture of the Church itself. It is true that it was tolerated by the Church, and to some extent sanctioned by the Church, but it is not true to say that it was guided and directed by the Church. Jesuitism never reflected the native spirit of Catholicism. There was always something alien about it. It came into the Church from without; it did not grow up within the Church. It was never identified with the accepted Catholic mentality. The "something about it" irreconcilable with simple, devout, lovable Catholicity inevitably made itself felt.

No one can deny that Franciscans, Benedictines and Dominicans represent true Catholicism in its various phases. The colours of these Orders blend with the papal colours, and the complexion and features of the Fisherman Peter are easily recognisable in his children, Francis, Benedict and Dominic. But who can picture Peter in a Jesuit cassock, engaged in counting acts of virtue on an Examen beads or sitting outside a confessional, watch in hand, timing how long Mrs. Brown takes to tell her sins to her Jesuit Confessor? Who can imagine Peter instructing his disciples to reserve their courtesies for high-born and wealthy people?

The presence of an element alien to the spirit of Peter is betrayed by the undisguised arrogance and secretiveness of the Society of Jesus. These and other kindred characteristics indicate the existence of a complex in the mentality of the Order, a Superiority complex it may be, or a Power complex. An abnormality of some kind taints the Society, else why so much dislike and hatred for it, in the minds of so many normal folk? "The Society may break but it will never bend," has been the proud boast of many Jesuits, but is it not also the boast of all who suffer from delusions of grandeur?

When the spectacular career of the Order is finished, and the glory of its triumphs is dim, will the Jesuit be able to make the one boast that becomes a Christian?

"The tumult and the shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart, Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and, a contrite heart"

«•*••*•

No reconstruction is possible in the case of the Society of Jesus. Hence in these pages no attempt is made to outline possible means of rendering the Society an efficient instrument of good. A hint from outside as to how to improve the Society would, needless to say, be received with scorn and contempt. A Society which throughout its history defied even Popes to introduce changes, would naturally not listen to suggestions from other sources less qualified to judge. No more iron-bound Constitution exists anywhere in the universe than that of the Society. The Constitution even of this great Republic is as wax compared with that of the Society. Not all the rulers of the world could secure the change of one word in the rules writ by the little Spanish hidalgo of the sixteenth century. In this unrelenting intransigence of the Society of Jesus, lies the deep secret of its initial success but inevitable failure.

CHAPTER XV

FROM DREAMS TO DISILLUSIONMENT /

Dreams

A CHAIN of sandhills runs across the centre of Ireland from the west, ending in the middle-east in a great morass or bog. It is the loneliest and most sombre part of Ireland, thinly populated and almost bereft of trees. Bitter cold winds sweep across the bog in winter, and rainy mists hang over the grey countryside. Spring comes late and without her usual glamour. She brings few gifts save daffodils and thorn-blossoms. Summer is subdued; almost sad, and the Fall flees quickly before the hastening onrush of Winter. For Offaly belongs to Winter, and the dull stone walls of the Jesuit Novitiate, Tullabeg, which lies in the heart of this poor, mournful landscape, are in keeping with its spirit.

It was at Tullabeg, soon after sunrise on September 8, 1906, that, kneeling at the altar of the Noviceship Chapel, I vowed with all solemnity that I would pass my whole life, as a Jesuit, according to the Jesuit Constitutions, in poverty, chastity and obedience. I made my vows without reserve, and with deep sincerity of purpose, knowing well the seriousness and sacredness of what I was doing, for my heart was then full of love for the Society of Jesus, which I believed to be the noblest, holiest and most wonderful institution that the world had ever seen.

At the time I was over twenty-two years of age, but I had seen little of the world and had no insight into the unconscious motives of life. I was singularly simple-minded and impressionable, and found it easy to believe good of all, especially of my co-religionists who signed themselves with the cross. Priests and Nuns, without exception, seemed to me the embodiments of virtue

and integrity, and I found it natural to visualise choirs of angels chanting noiseless songs of praise above the roofs of monasteries.

My early life had been spent very piously and happily under the sheltering care of a widow mother, whose sweetness and unselfishness inspired me with wonder. I have not since met any one who combined in such a harmonious way gaiety, grace and sincere religion. She was tall, with long raven hair, and so beautiful to my childish fancy that she seemed a queen in disguise. She devoted herself wholly to myself and my two brothers, both of whom were older than I, and our life together in our old-fashioned home in the suburbs of Dublin, with its orchard and flower-houses, in which were vines and roses, was almost ideal. Our religion was a bright, devotional and picturesque Catholicism such as the Celtic spirit has grafted on the dry dogmas of the Church, and it was to be expected that as my brothers and I grew up, our thoughts should turn towards the priesthood. This hope was beyond doubt in my mother's heart, although she was too prudent to express it overtly.

Our early education was given us by a fine old schoolmaster, who, as private tutor, came each day for a couple of hours. He taught us a little of everything, not excluding Latin and Greek, and when at last it was time for us to go to a boarding school, we were fairly well prepared in the elements of the ordinary school subjects.

It was shortly before leaving home for school that I had a rather strange experience that I think worth while to relate. It occurred on a lonely road late at night when I was returning from devotions held in a country chapel. At the time I was nearly twelve years old, care-free and as fearless as any little lad of my age. My path home led me through the grounds of a ruined monastery; a monastery that had been burned down by the soldiers of Cromwell in the seventeenth century. As I followed the path I approached the gate of an unused churchyard and noticed a tall, dark figure likewise approaching the churchyard gate by another path parallel to mine. It was the figure of'a gaunt woman. There was a black shawl over her head and her face was very pale. She reached the gate in advance of me, and as she did S0j she flung herself against it, stretching her arms high in the air and

uttering a loud cry. Then slowly and imperceptibly she faded away and disappeared.

• ••••*•

Clongowes College, which my brothers and I entered in 1895, is the largest and oldest of the public schools in Ireland. It was opened by the Jesuits in 1814, soon after the restoration of the Order, and has remained in their hands ever since. Originally a castle built to defend the "Pale," it stands close by a dense wood, in the fertile plain of the graceful Liffey River in Kildare. In the distance are the ever blue Dublin Mountains, and in between low wooded hills amongst others the Hill of Lyons where the great Irish leader, Daniel O'Connell, slew D'Esterre in a duel with pistols. About Clongowes there will ever be for me a certain mystic splendour and loveliness. As one approaches the old Castle, giant soldier-limes stand on guard, shoulder to shoulder, for a mile on either side, and rich meadows, as soft and green as any in the world, spread away behind the trees. The grey and grim towers are half covered with clinging creepers, that are roseate in the autumn, and the massive oaken doors through which the nervous new-boys enter seem to be protective and to offer a kindly welcome.

It was at Clongowes that my life's early dreams broke on consciousness. It was in the service of Clongowes that I gave the best years of my life. The triumphs that have fallen to my lot, that are of serious account in the economy of my heart, are games I won for Clongowes on its cricket field. The friends I have known who are unchangeable speak to mei still with boyish voices when I recall scenes long past in the Clongowes' corridors, and never in life have I felt the psychic influence of a place to be so real or so soothing as the soul that is like old wine in the air of Clongowes.

It was at Clongowes that I came in contact with Jesuits for the first time. They seemed to me unlovable, strange beings, doing everything for a purpose and nothing spontaneously, somewhat dark and ill-omened, and my first impression was that of dislike. I yearned for a simple warm-hearted approach. I thought that all good people should be warm-hearted, and I felt disappointed and rebuked by the coldness of the Jesuits* There seemed something

a little mysterious about them, and they were very unlike the open-hearted priests I had hitherto met. The strangeness about them struck me forcibly; it interested me but certainly did not attract me.

After a little while something trustful and affectionate in my temperament asserted itself and I began to like them; some of them I liked very much. I recognised great differences between them, but I believed them all to be holy and learned and impelled by the highest motives. Soon I had made heroes of a few of them; one for his prowess at cricket; another for his handsome appearance and cordial smile; another for his extraordinary courage and fairness of judgment. The latter was my mathematical master; severe but absolutely just. He was young then. He is still alive, but his health has never been good. In after life I came across him from time to time, and in my mind he is still "the noblest of them all"; unvaryingly sincere, simple and fearless. He has lived a very obscure life in the Society, and is quite unknown outside its ranks, but he has never fallen short of the child dream I formed of his worth and courage.

He had certain gifts that seemed marvellous to my young imagination; he could work out mathematical problems "in his head," without the use of paper and pencil; he could foretell the marks that boys would get at public examinations; he could, when at school holidays roulette tables were set up with candy as stakes, foretell the "colour" that would win in nine cases out of ten; and he could, at college debates, make speeches especially on patriotic subjects that stirred up the wildest enthusiasm.

Life at Clongowes was interesting and happy. The games were well managed. Recreation was plentiful. The libraries were well furnished and good-fellowship prevailed. But teaching, even in the best classes, was very poor, and there was an ugly material element in the education given. This was due to the system of public examinations, called the "Intermediate System," at which successful students were rewarded with money prizes and the college received a bonus, a "result fee," for each boy who passed. There was much cramming as a result and prizewinners were the recipients of special privileges. They were accommodated at a special table in the refectory, where throughout

the year they got more to eat and better food than the other boys. Cramming entered into the education of even the younger boys of twelve or thirteen years of age, for they too competed for public money prizes.

At Clongowes I was well thought of by the Jesuits on account of my piety and simplicity. I was usually chosen by the boys as head of pious organisations, such as the "Sodality of the Children of Mary," and my influence was looked upon as an asset on the side of virtue and good order. I had many friends among the boys, mostly "good boys," for the others looked upon me as over-pious. But fortunately for myself, prowess at sport, at football, and especially at cricket which was the most important game at Clongowes, gave me a standing of importance. At the college debate, too, I won the much-prized debate medal, perhaps the most coveted of all college distinctions.

• ••••••

When I was fourteen years old I had already determined to be a Jesuit. I knew I had a vocation; that I was called by God to be a Jesuit; and I made a private vow, though not a technical one, "never to cease striving to enter the Society of Jesus until I should succeed or die." From that moment until I actually entered the Noviceship about the age of twenty-one I never wavered in my "vocation" and I was entirely absorbed in it. I never allowed a thought contrary to it to remain iff my mind, and all my prayers and penances were directed towards strengthening and deepening my "vocation." The call of Christ, "Leave all and follow me," was forever ringing in my ears and I looked forward with joy to the day when I should be clad in the robes of a Jesuit.

It was probably at one of the college "retreats" that my vocation took shape. Early in the first term of the school year the boys at Clongowes, as at many other Jesuit colleges, spend three days in silence, retiring four times a day to the chapel to hear sermons on the mysteries and duties of religion. They are told that life is vain; that riches and honours and pleasures do not bring happiness; and that the only thing worth while in this world is to love and serve God, and to work for His glory. The service of God means heaven; the pursuit of honour and pleasure means

hell. The implicit idea conveyed is that the best and most useful life is that of a minister and apostle of religion. And naturally many boys thereupon begin seriously to think, as I did, of joining the Jesuits and making sure of their own salvation, while also helping others to save their souls.

There were other elements in my vocation besides the supernatural element. I was already very fond of Clongowes, and Clongowes for me meant the Jesuit Order. Furthermore, I was moved by a great desire to please such Jesuits as I had idealised, in particular my mathematical master. Also I had read devotional accounts of the lives of Jesuit saints and a few pious but exaggerated descriptions of the marvellous achievements of the Jesuit Order, and I was much influenced by the propaganda contained therein.

The Jesuit Order seemed to me then, as it still seems to many Catholics, to be an Order in which there prevailed a wondrous esprit de corps and a superlative discipline. It seemed to be inspired with so much enterprise in doing good that it guaranteed whole-hearted co-operation for all earnestly intent upon the service of their fellow men, whether as scholars, scientists, social workers, teachers or missionaries. It seemed to carry the promise of making the most out of every one who joined it and of cultivating the tastes and abilities of each of its members. It seemed to be an Order, so up-to-date, so broad in outlook and so keen in the appreciation of the evolution of human society and of the needs of its times, that it was ever prepared to use new weapons and new methods of warfare in the battle for higher things. Lastly, it seemed to be an Order that was, as it proclaimed itself to be, "ruled by the interior law of charity and love" rather than by any external or coercive ordinances.

• ••••••

When I left Clongowes I had still three years to wait before entering the Jesuit Noviceship. A legal difficulty prevented my joining at once. My father had died intestate and I had been placed under the wardship of the Lord Chancellor. While a legal ward it was impossible to obtain permission to enter a religious Order, and I waited until my minority was almost over.

I returned home to live with my mother and my second eldest

brother. I attended lectures in the University and in another college and passed a difficult competitive examination which secured for me a good position in a great business establishment.

It was in no way necessary for me to go to business but I was glad to avail myself of the opportunity of gaining experience, and it was a pleasure for me to help my mother financially. Those three years were full of happiness and strenuous exertion. I kept faithful to my religious ideals, rising early each morning to go to Mass before going to business, and I succeeded in organising a Catholic social undertaking of some importance among my fellow Catholics in the business firm where I was employed. My brother and I organised a football club and our weekly games were exciting events. My brother was a gifted artist, as well as being exceptionally brilliant in his medical, studies, and he was possessed of a fine literary sense. He was an ideal comrade and when the time came to leave him and our common pursuits I felt the wrench exceedingly severe.

I do not fully understand how my mother looked upon my entering the Jesuit Order. She said not a word to urge me on or to oppose my purpose; she had no doubt cherished the dream of so many Irish mothers, of having a son a priest; but she was remarkably intuitive and as I look back to those days I seem to feel that she sensed in some strange way that my step would culminate in something untoward. I parted from her in grief, but she refused to part from me, and continued to write to me, and to visit me in a spirit that negatived the complete disjunction that entering into religion is supposed to consummate.

During my three years of waiting I used from time to time revisit Clongowes in order to keep in touch with my old Jesuit masters. Most of them knew that I intended to "enter" and they were in consequence particularly nice to me, but I found in them much less spiritual inspiration than I had hoped for. One day while revisiting Clongowes a kindly middle-aged Father took me aside for a chat. He was a man who had seen much of the world before becoming a Jesuit and he had never lost his natural sincerity of heart. "I hear you are going to join us," he said to me. "That is so," I answered. "Well," he continued, "I hope you will think very carefully before you do so. You are doing very

good work where you are; splendid workj and I doubt if you will ever have the same opportunity of doing good in the Society." Then looking at me sadly, he added: "You don't realise it, for your mind is full of poetic ideas about the Society, but believe me, things In the Society are not what they seem to be"

It was the only time I had received an honest word of warning from a Jesuit, and, unfortunately, I did not take it seriously. It only served to chill and shock me, and I put it down to a certain laxity in the man.

At business I worked only in a half-hearted way. I was always waiting for the great day; the great adventure; the great deliverance. Through the high windows of my office I could see clouds, little else but the clouds. Sometimes they sped swiftly across my acreage of heaven, sometimes they moved very slowly. I used watch them in pious idleness, thinking that they symbolised the movements of the soul towards God. I longed to follow them, fondly fancying that they would lead me to the Jesuit Noviceship at Tullabeg; to the haven of safety. In the street outside, Thomas Street (Dublin), the cars and cabs rattled noisily on the cobbled pavement, disturbing me and making me realise with distressing vividness that I was still "in the world." This distress intensified my resistance to the World and increased my yearning for the peace and holiness of religious life.

• •*••••

It was shortly before entering the Jesuit Noviceship that there befell me a second experience, somewhat like the first I had, of a strange kind. At the time I was living in a quiet, old-fashioned section of Dublin, in the Baggotrath district, in a street up the centre of which there was a purposeless cluster of trees. It was a very dingy grove of thin, worn trees bereft of sunlight, forgotten by all save the city sparrows. The street was dark and lonely, almost to the extent of having an ill-omened air about it. On one side the houses were large, ungainly and somewhat dilapidated. On the other side there were small and fairly neat red-brick structures. It was in one of the latter that I was living, and from the hall-door there ran a narrow paved passage to a low iron gate that opened on the pathway.

It was about five o'clock in the morning that the experience

happened. There had been a severe storm during the night; the worst storm that had occurred for many years. Trees, chimneys and even houses had been blown down, and torrential rain had inundated the city. It was still stormy at five in the morning, besides being bitterly cold.

I had to be at my office at six and had risen earlier than usual, anticipating trouble in travelling through the city. With much difficulty I opened the hall-door, and when I got outside it closed behind me with a bang. Then I looked towards the street, and as I did so a feeling of something very strange, something weird, came over me.

Five yards from me, leaning over the low iron gate at the end of the passage, and staring mutely at me, was a tall, gaunt, pale-faced woman, the same whom I had seen ten years before at the churchyard gate. A black' shawl was thrown over her head and she seemed very sad and mournful. While I paused, she moved slowly backward and disappeared. This time she uttered no cry of sorrow or of warning.

• ••••••

The Jesuit Noviceship at Tullabeg, where I passed the next two years of my life, comprised a long discipline in religious emotionalism. There was never a moment free from pious excitement. The tension of spiritual striving after perfection was kept up incessantly, and the novices were taught to regard recreation time as well as prayer time as a battlefield of perfection. There was a constant simmering and bubbling of fervour, although paroxysms were carefully avoided. The Master of Novices and his assistant, the Father Socius (Companion), kept goading the novices persistently from early morning till late at night, week in and week out. There was never a moment when one was left alone. There were tests, experiments, public penances, "offices" to be fulfilled, bells ringing, hundreds of minute customs to be carefully observed, with five minutes at this task and ten minutes at that—in fine a continual tossing, as though the novices were hay and the Master and his Socius haymakers. Internally each novice felt see-sawed between "consolation" and "desolation," according as the little daily tasks went well or ill. There was no possibility of cold, calm reflection, although the Master kept

reiterating tKe suggestion that the novices were acting freely, and deliberately, and under the inspiration of grace.

All were as a matter of fact deeply under suggestion and in a semi-hysterical, nervous state. In the morning there was a visit to the chapel. An hour's mental prayer followed, then Mass, thanksgiving and a further time for reflection before breakfast. During the day, besides innumerable short periods for prayer, there was spiritual reading; sweeping corridors; washing and dusting; scrubbing dishes; collecting leaves; cleaning out hen-houses and toilets; writing out spiritual notes; cultivating "spiritual conversation" during recreation, hurrying, watching, examining one's conscience, but never a moment of relaxation or natural peace. Tension and spiritual excitement prevailed all the time; it was. a hot-house for the forcible production of pious habits and attitudes of mind; and the fervour of the most fervent was contagious.

A few times a week or oftener, when the novices were going to bed, a signal was given; an ill-omened signal that made the novices' hearts sink; and presently from the dark alcoves came the sound of fierce whippings. Each novice, provided with a whip of knotted cords, lashed himself with fury. A few times a week or oftener each novice wound around his forearm a chain of sharp spikes which by rule he had to wear for three or four hours at least. Some novices were given "hair-shirts," large pads of horsehair which were worn next the skin. They soon became greasy with perspiration, and the ordeal of wearing them was not inconsiderable. There were, of course, many other forms of penance practised in the refectory and elsewhere, and it was the aim of every pious novice to deny himself those things which he craved for most. In order to maintain his sense of fervour a novice had to kee'p pricking and goading himself constantly y as it were squeezing 'peace of soul out of 'pain,

Two years of this unnatural and forced asceticism, as unlike the training which Christ gave to his Apostles as could be imagined, leaves the Jesuit novice docile, pious, timorous, diffident and nervously prone to hysteria.

One of the worst features in the Jesuit Noviceship training is the emphasis on the fear motive. This motive is presented in the form of "fear of losing one's vocation," which is painted as the

most terrible of evils, a kind of predestination to damnation. The danger of dismissal is present as a complex in the sub-conscious of every novice, and the slightest sign of disapproval or distrust in the Master of Novices is sufficient to paralyse a Jesuit novice with terror. I remember on one occasion seeing a novice, a young journalist of twenty-four years of age, literally trembling all over because the Socius had told him in a sharp voice to call another novice. The Latin which he was supposed to use in delivering the message almost entirely failed him. The simple words, "Pater Socius te vocat" ("Fr. Socius wants you"), fell from his trembling lips as "Patri Socio, statim, statim" (meaning, if it means anything, "To Fr. Socius immediately, immediately"). Meanwhile he was jumping about and almost crying.

Hysteria appears among the novices in outbursts of uncontrollable laughter at the most inopportune times, and not unfrequently in the chapel, where the strictest decorum is expected. On one occasion which comes to my mind, an elderly novice, an Australian, who had been a lawyer before he entered, fell asleep in the chapel during evening meditation. It was a warm summer evening and his tired eyes could no longer keep open. As he slept he dreamed, and his dream must have brought him back to some experience of the backwoods, for he seemed to see some crawling thing approaching him. "Get away, get away," he cried out aloud in the chapel, and began kicking vigorously at the bench in front of him. Then the hysterical storm burst and the chapel shook with the uncontrollable laughter of the novices.

The vow morning, to which I referred at the beginning of this chapter, came and passed, and I found myself a "junior" in the Juniorate, which means a Jesuit student of humanities. There awaited me one feverish year of classical studies; Greek and Latin; with some English literature. There was a "Master of Juniors," of whom I have already spoken, who was supposed to teach and direct studies, but who afforded me my first clear insight into the make-belief of Jesuit ways. He was utterly inefficient in every respect, and indulged to the full his sadistic instinct in nagging at those under his charge, but he nevertheless enjoyed the complete confidence of his Superiors. The 'Juniorate is avowedly to prepare young Jesuits for the duty of teaching in the colleges

which awaits them, but at least in my Juniorate there was not the slightest effort to inculcate the art of pedagogy or to give any training in teaching. All one could learn about teaching was the obvious lesson of avoiding the ways in which our Jesuit exemplar master wasted time, and suggested discontent and discouragement.

The individual juniors, still full of Noviceship fervour, made a fierce onslaught on books, and assimilated a heterogenous mass of knowledge, undigested and ill-understood. Meanwhile there began to appear some faint signs of a recrudescence of human impulses so long repressed. There were "particular friendships," and a certain promiscuity of reading which did not always avoid what savoured of the sensual in the classics and Elizabethan poets. When juniors came across asterisks, which marked expurgations in the text-books they were reading, they, as often as not, found pious pretexts for consulting unexpurgated editions to discover what it was all about.

At Tullabeg both as a novice and a junior I strove in the most unequivocal manner to live up to the very highest ideals that were put before me. Never once as far as I can remember did I deliberately break a rule or custom, and yet when my Juniorate was over I found myself distrusted by Superiors. On the eve of my departure from Tullabeg I went as was customary to seek "the blessing" of the Rector of the House and he refused to bestow it upon me. In the eyes of a young Jesuit the Superior's blessing is regarded, as it was regarded in the days of Abraham and Isaac, as a patriarchal charisma. To be denied a Superior's blessing is to be deprived of an overshadowing protection of a vague, and possibly superstitious kind. In practice the denial of a patriarchal blessing means that one is counted among the sheep destined to be lost. Doom and despair are suggested, and I must confess that I departed from this vain and unbalanced Superior's room with the sense that some evil fate awaited me. For quite a little while my soul was darkened by vague fears.

Some months previously this Superior, an ex-Provincial, had given me my first inkling as to the possibility of coarseness and brutality in Jesuit internal government. On the eve of being sent to Dublin to present myself for a university examination I had asked him for permission to visit my mother while in the

city. My request was not only reasonable but also a customary one to make on such occasions.

The answer I received when I made my request shocked and hurt me to an extent that I fail to find words to describe. "What do you want talking to an old woman in a back parlour?" he answered. This from a man whom I was supposed to regard as Christ! Whose words 'were to be received by me as words from the lips of Christ! Who stood in the place of God! How could I force my will and judgment to see divinity in such vulgarity and coarseness? I fled from his room and found a solitary spot in a far corner of the college grounds, and for the first time for years bitter tears of shame and remorse filled my eyes. That night he sent for me and denied that he had made the remark, convincing me thereby that he wasia liar as well as a brute. He died a few years later "in the odour of sanctity," regarded by many as a saint, and by all as a very great Jesuit, and a brilliant authority on the Jesuit Constitutions.

From Tullabeg I went to Louvain to study philosophy. I found the Belgian Jesuits to be simple rough fellows, hard working and on the whole intelligent. They were narrow in their views and secretive, living in great fear of Superiors. Like every other Jesuit Province, they regarded their Province as embodying the true spirit of the Order, in contradistinction to other Provinces. They had the idea that all the "anglais" (i.e. t English-speaking foreigners) were lazy, and they were surprised at the industry that I displayed. Soon they gave me the credit of being "un travailleur acharne" (a terrific worker), and were not a little edified by my ascetical practices. In my vanity I was striving to show what an Irish Jesuit was capable of, and to keep the. flag of my Province flying.

While following the full course of Scholastic Psychology and Philosophy in the Jesuit college, I studied privately for my degree in the National University, Ireland, and returned for the degree examination in Dublin in 1909, securing the first place and first class honours. The Provincial was so pleased with this success that he allowed me to spend an extra year at Louvain, and as a result I was enabled to take an excellent course in Experimental Psychology at the Institut Su-perieur at Louvain and to get my Doctorate in virtue of a thesis on the psychology of the choice act.

This thesis, Motive Force and Motivation Tracks* attracted a good deal of attention in scientific papers and was much praised both for its originality and the precision of its method. Professor Spearman, Grote Professor of London University, described it as "an experimental investigation of very remarkable value, showing much power of research," and I received requests from psychologists in Spain, France and Germany for permission to translate it. I found myself thus in 1911 with degrees in two universities and author of a scientific work of recognised merit, and realised that through personal effort I had realised one of my dreams-.

There was another dream that I cherished of a totally different kind, which I tried hard but in vain to realise. I had become interested in Japan and in the Jesuit efforts to build up a Catholic University in Tokio. It seemed to me that a very great future was in store for the Japanese people, and that the prosperity of the Catholic Church would be bound up with the destiny of that clever, progressive race. I knew that a Jesuit psychologist would be required for the contemplated university, and I dreamed of filling that post. I wrote several times to the Superior of the Japanese Mission, and interested him in my dream. I prayed hard, too, and when Fr. Ledochowski, the present Jesuit General, came to Belgium as a Visitator of the Province I tried to get him to espouse my cause. In fine, I did everything humanly possible to consummate the sacrifice of myself for the cause of Christ, but nothing came of my efforts.

In 1911 I returned to my own Province and found that I was appointed to teach at my old school, Clongowes Wood. In what I now regard as a childish way, I anticipated that some appreciation would be shown of the work I had done at Louvain. I still had the idea of the Society as a family, where the members love one another and are interested in one another, and are anxious to cooperate with one another, but what a disappointment I received! I found that my "thesis" was regarded as a good joke, and my degrees as a "publicity stunt," an effort to gain notoriety. It was openly hinted that by clever wire-pulling I had escaped a year's teaching and had had a fine time travelling around the Continent.

i Published, 1911, by Longmans Green & Co., London.

It was my first clear intimation of the cynicism and jealousy that is rampant among members of the Order. There awaited me, too, another, and what seemed to me at the time, appalling catastrophe. The Provincial sent for me and informed me that he had received a very grave letter from the Provincial of the New York Province, enclosing a criticism of my book by a very learned American Jesuit who was of opinion that it was dangerous and heretical and that it should be suppressed at once. "But," I said, "my MS. was submitted to the Jesuit Censors at Louvain, and they authorised publication." "That does not matter," replied the Provincial. "You must stop the sale of your book at once and I will refer the whole matter to Rome. It is a very grave matter." The Provincial had of course taken no pains to read my book, or even to understand the puerile criticism of the American Jesuit Professor. He decided, as most Jesuit Superiors do, on the side of caution and personal safety. Many months later the decision came from Rome to the effect that the American Professor did not understand what experimental psychology was, and that his criticism was futile.

• r*i • r*i M f*i •

I spent three years as a Master at Clongowes. They were happy years from one point of view, but they were years of disillusionment. As a boy I had seen the front of the tapestry. I was now to see the back, and to live behind the tapestry. The glamour of Clongowes I found to be much like the glamour of shop windows. Clongowes was run on hard business lines financially, while educationally it was run in a most unbusiness-like and disorganised way. The Masters were untrained, incompetent for the most part, and temperamentally unsuited to teaching. The, rights of the boys to good education for the good money that was paid for them were disregarded. There was a great deal of jealousy and squabbling in the community, and little or no co-operation. There was complete indifference to educational theory, and each Master was content to "put in" his number of hours in the classroom as best he could, without the least preoccupation about educational ideals. The great object was to "carry on," "to keep the ball rolling," and each Master looked forward eagerly to the day when he would escape the hideous grind of schoolmastering. Of professional spirit there

was none. Material results were of course carefully looked to. Inspectors who came from time to time to look over the college on behalf of the Government were entertained in princely fashion while the seamy side of things was concealed from them. Bogus cheques were issued to Jesuit Masters by the Superior, to be receipted and at once torn up, so that claims might be set up for Government grants; or rather Government bonuses to salaried, teachers. Jesuits sworn to poverty posed regularly as "salaried teachers" in order to secure these bonuses!

Meanwhile at Clongowes outrageous snobbery was displayed. Rich and fashionable visitors were made much of, while humbler folk were more or less ignored and pushed aside. In spite of the national boycott against the military forces that were occupying the country in the interests of England, the college authorities, to please the pro-British element in Dublin, used to invite the military to Clongowes on every available occasion. They were invited to play cricket and football with the boys; and it was a military band that was called upon for the big reunion festivities each summer. Meanwhile no Irish patriot was ever allowed to address the boys, nor were any Irish games allowed until a much later date. The ideal of the Clongowes education was utterly un-national; it was the training of boys to be of service, not to their own country, but to the country that held Ireland in thraldom. Clongowes, during the period when I was a boy and later when I was a Master, was reeking with snobbery, and with a kind of "worldliness" that was almost entirely absent from other Irish schools.

While a Master I threw myself whole-heartedly into the work of teaching. I was fortunate in having a few classes of very brilliant boys, and the successes they achieved in the public examinations were very remarkable. My practical method of teaching was based on suggesting interest, and in awakening a love of learning for its own sake. Many of my boys read widely in history and literature, and wrote prolifically on all kinds of topics. During the three years I was teaching them, they won practically all the medals and prizes that were offered for public competition in history and literature, and some of them have since distinguished themselves as litterateurs. I felt a close bond of affection tying me to my

pupils, and sensed the happiness that is possible in a teacher's life. I was not yet sufficiently disillusioned with the Society to feel upset when several of my best pupils entered the Novitiate, but looking back now on those times, I deeply regret that I was not at the time competent to put before them an analysis of Jesuitism.

With the co-operation of another young Jesuit, who shortly afterwards left the Society in disgust, I tried to counteract the snobbery of Clongowes' education by awakening among the students an interest in Irish history and Irish traditions. We organised Irish concerts; debates on Irish questions; and undertook propaganda work for the Irish language. I was able to found a Social Study Club among the boys, and a Social Service Club in Dublin among the alumni. The latter enterprise was begun on a big scale, and developed rapidly. It was a dream-creation of my heart, and I was thrilled to see old Clongowes men, entertaining and amusing hundreds of poor Dublin street-urchins in the evenings, in a spacious house they had rented for the purpose. Shortly afterwards I was forbidden to co-operate any further with the undertaking.

During my time at Clongowes I published another book; a practical book on the training of character. It was called Strength of Will. 2 Superiors had at first consigned this book to the waste-paper basket, but they were glad afterwards that they had not done so, for they received considerable cheques twice yearly for some years as a result of its publication.

• •»•*••

It may interest some to know what are the financial relations between a Jesuit and the Order, how far a particular Jesuit may hope to secure a material benefit from the Order, say, for one of his relatives. I think that an experience of my own will help to clarify this matter.

My family had for three generations been students at Clongowes, that is, since the opening of Clongowes. When the fourth gen-

2 Publ. by Kennedy, New York, 1915. Joyce Kilmer, who reviewed this book for the New York Times, wrote: "It is therefore a fortunate thing that Dr. Boyd Barrett is using his scentific aptitude and his trained mind in the service of this weighty subject. He writes with singular clarity and undoubted authority. There is no doubt that Dr. Boyd Barrett has made a valuable contribution to the fascinating science of psychology. And furthermore he has provided a text-book which cannot be read carefully by any one without genuine and readily recognisable benefit."

eration came of age for school, my sister-in-law found herself unable to pay the full college fees for her two boys and she wrote to me to ask me to try to obtain a reduction in their case. I received a pointblank refusal from the Rector of Clongowes. However, I arranged a compromise and undertook to reimburse the Rector for any reduction he made, by allotting to him part of my property when I should make my last vows and my renunciation of property. To this he agreed. But when finally his bill reached me on the eve of my "renunciation" I found that he had added on a tax of six per cent (i.e., more than the current money rate of the day), and that he was charging this rate of percentage on fees as payable in advance, from the first day that my nephews entered Clongowes. Things of this kind were slowly but surely opening my eyes to the fact that I was destined to spend my days in an organisation that was hard and selfish, little influenced as I had thought by "the interior law of charity and love," but much influenced by economic and purely worldly motives. I began to wonder, after my experiences of Clongowes, if all was well with the Society, and if it was what it pretended to be. Had I been deceived in entering the Society? Was it to Jesuitism, which I now was beginning to understand, that I had made my vows? The future began to look less and less roseate.

»••*••'•

From Clongowes I was sent to study theology for four years at a Jesuit seminary called Milltown Park; a valuable property of forty acres, in the wealthiest district of Dublin. The building is of granite, ungainly and repulsive; its frigid austerity typifying the spirit that abides within its walls.

I entered Milltown Parkrstill clinging to hope; I left it with my ideal of the Society of Jesus shattered.

11

"Disillusionment

Milltown Park was once more a place of waiting; every young Jesuit was waiting to get out of it as an ordained priest. Tullabeg

had been a place of waiting, waiting for vows; Louvain had been a place of waiting, waiting for the colleges; at Clongowes I had found likewise that all the young Jesuits were waiting to get to theology, to Milltown Park; was there any phase of a Jesuit's life, I asked myself, wherein one could settle down content? Why was there so much of postponed hope about the Order?

The chief occupation at Milltown Park was the study of Theology, along the old scholastic lines of thesis and disputation. Theology was divided up into dogmatic theology, moral theology, church history, Scripture and canon law. The courses were given in Latin, and the text-books were likewise in Latin. Except when moral cases were discussed there was nothing modern, or vital, touched upon. All was dry as dust, and the professors might have been reincarnations of mediaeval scholastic teachers. They showed no knowledge of or interest in the trends of thought of the times. There was a complete "out-of-touchness" about their scholarship, and no recent difficulties against religion, originating in modern science and historical research into the origins of religion, were dealt with. For four years we were conducted through archives of ancient lore, mostly Jesuit lore, and we found ourselves after all was over with a book knowledge of our own religion, and no insight whatsoever into any other religion. The Jesuit professors of Milltown had apparently a supreme contempt for modern research and modern Bible criticism. They regarded theology as being a fixed and completed science which could not be overthrown and which could not be perfected. It never entered their heads to discuss the psychology of the tenets, symbols, ceremonies, dogmas and mystical experiences of religion, or to explain the existence of contradictory trends of thought and conduct in the Bible, and in the Church.

The atmosphere of a barracks was strongly marked in Milltown Park. There was a tenseness and moroseness about everything, and there were periods when the whole community seemed to be plunged in gloom. Superiors were hard and ill-tempered; there were severe penalties attached to trivial departures from rule; and professors were looked upon with fear and dislike because they indiscriminately "failed" men in the theological examinations, thus creating a general feeling of uncertainty and worry. It is not easy to de-

scribe intelligibly the spirit of Milltown Park, save perhaps by likening it to a market where business is poor; where no buyer gets what he wants; where no seller disposes of his wares satisfactorily; and where there is a great deal of unpleasant quarrelling and wrangling. Some of the Jesuit students, anxious to become Professed Fathers, worked furiously at theology, and played up to the professors so as to win their favour. Others took things very easily and did not begin to work until the examinations loomed in sight. The examination period was a period of feverish excitement, and extreme tension, and not a few of the students became nervous and hysterical.

It is hard to understand the need for allowing so much ugliness and unpleasantness in a religious house devoted to imparting a knowledge of the divine mysteries of religion, to men who were consecrated by vow to live a life of perfection. A spirit of sweetness, peace and charity would have been more becoming, and more in accordance with the principles of Christ. But the hard, mailed-fisted method of absolutism, inseparable from Jesuit organisation, was bound to appear, and needless to say it played havoc with the possibility of serious study. How different the Jesuit conception of a school from that of Plato or Socrates!

There was a great deal of favouritism shown by Superiors at Milltown Park and the under-dog Jesuits had very hard times. Some were allowed many privileges and others were allowed none at all. I began to find my sympathies going more and more to the side of the under-dogs, who were harassed and penalised, and imperceptibly I began in a small way to be a rebel to rules. This change came over me as a result of repeated experiences of the insincerity and partiality erf Superiors, and the cynical disregard that they displayed for honest, human ethics.

In my adventurous breaches of discipline I was frequently caught, and I felt hurt by the manner, often contemptuous, in which reprimands and penances were given. One Superior in particular, a very clever, pious but uncultured little man, took it into his head that the best way of working out my perfection was by "breaking my will." He proceeded forthwith to carry out his purpose. He watched me assiduously and whenever he discovered the slightest

irregularity in my conduct he sent for me and discoursed with great bitterness thereon.

On one occasion he noticed that the light was burning in my room after hours. It was about eleven o'clock at night. My light should have been out at a quarter to eleven. My room was in a corridor and there were other lights burning at the time, but he chose me as a victim to be sacrificed to the rule-God. He knocked at my door sharply, and before I had time to say "Come in," he entered.

"You are up," he said in his squeaky voice, "and you are not in bed!" I rose from my chair respectfully without saying anything. "And your light is burning," he added, looking at me angrily. Then he sniffed the air. "You are smoking, too," he continued, "smoking at this time of the night!"

I was about thirty-three years of age at the time and an ordained priest, but in his eyes I had no right to do the little things it pleased me to do, even in the privacy of my own room. I was ready to admit that it was a technical breach of rule, though of a rule that no one observed, to have my light burning after hours, but I did not consider there was any additional guilt in smoking, as I had full permission to smoke. I had received from the Provincial what was called "a smoker's licence." So I answered my Superior that I had not been sleeping well of late and that I found that to smoke before going to bed helped me to sleep. "That is a childish excuse," he cried, "put out your light at once and come to see me in the morning."

In the morning I came to him to hear "the voice of God," for Jesuit Superiors insist on the maxim, "Who hears you, hears Me" (Qui vos audit, Me audit). For nearly an hour this angry, vulgar little man poured forth his personal spleen and venom in language so unrefined, that football coaches, had they heard him, would have envied his fluency and his vocabulary.

I listened without saying a word. Often before I had had the same kind of experience, listening to the thunderings of an outraged manikin-Jehovah. I had come to recognise and classify the phenomenon as an explosion-reaction, inevitably provoked in a Jesuit Superior, deified by the Jesuit Constitutions, by any sign of independence in a subject. It was the anger of the tribal-god, berating

some presumptuous follower who neglected to kiss the ground before him.

• »•••••

"The Jesuit rule throughout" writes Fr. Pollen, S.J. 8 "is one of love inspired by wisdom^ and it must be interpreted in the spirit of charity which animates it. This is especially true of its 'provisions for the affectionate relations of Superiors with Subjects and with one another. ..."

• ••••••

My spirit was well-nigh broken by the four years of repression and tension at Milltown Park. Many Jesuits before me had collapsed under the strain, and there were some cases of attempted suicide within its walls. I myself had seen mature men crying hysterically over their fate, and I heard more groans of anguish and despair among Jesuit students of that Jesuit college than I ever heard elsewhere. It was therefore with no small relief that I finally quitted it, going for a year of service as a Master to the Jesuit college at Galway.

Here at last, for the first time since I entered the Order, I found an opportunity for rest, and for intercourse with people outside the Society. The Jesuit college in Galway was isolated socially and geographically from the rest of the Province. Its discipline was not excessively strict, and the Community lived in harmony, without interfering with one another. No one seemed disposed to exercise the duty of denouncing his brother Jesuit, and the absence of coercion and repression made life wholesome and happy. The little school was far from being a success, but the church was fairly well managed and sufficed to support the Community. There was much coming and going of externs and every Jesuit had friends outside to call upon. The fisher-folk around Galway were Irish speakers, and I set myself to learn Irish, and to read for the first time Gaelic Literature. In this I was helped in the kindest way by some members of the Community, and I found to my delight that co-operation was possible in the Society when internal government was in abeyance.

The learning of Irish was not looked upon favourably by the higher Superiors in Dublin, as it manifested sympathy with the 8 Catholic Encyclopedia.

national movement, and national ideals. But they could not wholly prevent it, and satisfied themselves with penalising in indirect ways the more ardent pro-Gaels, sending some of them to Australia, where they would have no further opportunity of speaking Irish.

My pleasant and healthy year at Galway, that picturesque old capital of Western Ireland, passed away all too soon, and I found myself on the road for Tullabeg once more, where I, with about twenty others, was to finish my spiritual training in the Society, with the one-year final Noviceship, the school of <perfection y called the "Tertianship." The object of the Tertianship is to give Jesuit priests, who have completed all their studies, an opportunity of renewing their "first fervour," by a year of prayer, devotional reading, retreat, study of the Jesuit Constitutions, and other exercises of piety. The Tertianship is supposed by ascetical writers to prove Ignatius' wonderful insight into the' laws ruling spiritual progress and development.

One can readily enough admit that the Tertianship may suit the spiritual needs of some, and that if it were optional to make it or not to make it, according as the individual soul felt that he would be helped by it or not, it would haVe been an admirable institution. But Ignatius spoiled his own conception by his fetish of uniformity. He made the Tertianship compulsory on all, whether they liked to make it or not. All had to drink at this supposed spiritual fountain whether thirsty or not. The result Was disgust in those who were not thirsty, and rebellion against constraint in those who were.

The Jesuit priests who were with me at the Tertianship were all mature men, who could no longer be coaxed and cajoled like novices. T^hey, one and all, resented the system of forcible feeding of spirituality, and developed considerable bitterness during this period of enforced inaction. They were sick to death of the Tertianship before two of the ten months were passed, and they sought in every direction for means of killing time. Newspapers, which were of course forbidden, were eagerly sought for, and even a paper three days old was counted a priceless treasure, and read from beginning to end.

The Tertian-Master was an English Jesuit, elderly, a perfect gentleman, but of very mediocre ability, and utterly incapable of teaching the Constitutions. He was exceedingly pious and edifying,

but bereft of any skill in the psychology of asceticism. He did his best to keep up the appearance of the Tertianship being a school of 'perfection, but he doubtless knew that the chief topics of conversa-r tion among his disciples were items of political news surreptitiously acquired, and the physical charms of some of the young novices whom the Tertians used see in the refectory and about the grounds and for whom they found "pet" names.

I had read in Jesuit books of the wonders of the Tertianship, and now on close acquaintance I found it to be, like every other Jesuit institution, a mockery and a sham. The Noviceship had proved to be, not a school of virtue but of piety; the Juniorate had been as far removed from a school of humanities as could be imagined; the Jesuit colleges that I had seen were cramming institutions where large fees were taken for the poorest kind of education; the theologate at Milltown Park I had found to be antiquated and destructive of spirit and initiative; and now I was in a "school of perfection" that was the biggest fraud of all. Where was one to look for the greatness of the Jesuit Order? Where was the golden fruit on which the heroes of old had fed? Had not decay, widespread and deep, come upon the once alert and efficient Society of Jesus?

During the Tertianship each Jesuit is supposed to receive a "Speculum" (an image of himself), showing the faults of his character, and his chief defects as a Jesuit. The "Speculum" is looked forward to with interest. It is sent to the Tertian-Master from Rome, and is compiled from reports (secret reports) sent in about each Jesuit, twice yearly or more often, from the day of his entrance into the Order.

The "Speculum" is a self-protective measure that the Order takes vis-a-vis of the individual Jesuit. If subsequently the Order decides to postpone the individual's final vows, and to refuse him final admission into the Society, it can point to the "Speculum" and say: "There is a fault officially pointed out to you in your 'Speculum' that you have not corrected and now you may not make your last vows."

My "Speculum," as handed to me by the Tertian-Master, was exceedingly vague. It hinted at a lack of respect towards Superiors, and at a certain independence of character unbecoming a religious.

It supplied no useful analysis of this "evil" in my character, nor did it suggest any manner of amending it.

One painful memory of the Teitianship lingers in my mind. It occurred at one of the dullest periods of the year when every one was depressed. The kind old Tertian-Master had exhausted his limited strength in trying to smooth over difficulties and to render the life of the Tertians less intolerable. He got run-down and nervous, and his collapse took a curious form. He had come into the hall where the Tertians were assembled to give his instruction on the Jesuit Constitutions, but instead of treating of this subject he began to recount a series of amusing anecdotes of a rather broad flavour. Believing that his stories were being appreciated, he went further afield, culminating in a story that markedly violated conventions. Then he collapsed. Such was the anti-climax to Ignatius' "school of perfection." :

* • • • » • »

From the Tertianship I was sent for a two years' course of special study in biology and psychology to London University. This privilege, which I valued very highly, was called a "biennium," and is only given to such as are trustworthy and who give promise of making a profitable use of the opportunity given them. I was naturally very pleased at the prospect of pursuing my favourite studies, and I resolved to make the most of the time allotted to me. I threw myself into the university life with ardour, and before long I was taking an active part in the college Academies. I was privileged to deliver an address on "Vitalism" before the assembled graduates and under-graduates, in a public debate that had been arranged between myself and the famous chemist, Professor Donnan. I also read a paper before the British Psychological Society, and delivered a course of lectures at Cambridge. I began to undertake psycho-analytic work and to lecture and write on psycho-therapy, and before long a large number of clergymen, Jesuits included, were coming to consult me about their nerves.

A new dream, my last dream as a Jesuit, began to take shape in my mind. I had come to realise, owing to an increased knowledge of the working of convents and monasteries, that the strain of religious life was causing a great many "break-downs," and I found that in most cases nervous religious were left without any

' ' *

326 The Jesuit Enigma

adequate treatment or direction. Many were ashamed to explain their difficulties to medical doctors, especially when moral matters were involved, and ordinary priests, who had no skill in neurology, were unable to help them. I saw that there was a great field for good work in helping scrupulous and nervous priests and nuns, and I dreamed of opening up this field. I wrote several articles in Catholic papers on the new methods of mind-healing, and from the correspondence that I received I recognised how much these articles were appreciated. But was it in harmony with a priest's vocation to practise mind-healing? Would my Superiors allow me to do this kind of work? Would they maintain the old attitude that the Confessional was the place for psycho-therapy, and that Confession was the sufficient remedy for all "diseases of the imagination," as they were called?

While at London University, studying hard, writing, lecturing, and at the same time doing a great deal of Apostolic work, I received one of those ill-timed, stunning blows that Jesuit Superiors know so well how to deal. I had reached the period when I was entitled to make my last vows, and thus acquire a certain stability of standing in the Order. Like a bolt from the blue came a letter from my Provincial telling me that my vows were postponed by the General. Such a postponement is one of the formal official declarations of distrust recognised by the Jesuit Constitutions. It is perhaps the greatest one of all. I wondered what it meant. Why had the Order decided, after I had given it sixteen years of strenuous service; after I had given it the best portion of my life, that I should be proclaimed a "black sheep" among my brethren? I wrote to demand reasons, as I was entitled to do, and as answer I received an equivocal letter, telling me that I had been lacking in obedience —that I had been "reported" for speaking against "high ecclesiastical dignitaries," but there was not the slightest hint of any serious fault. The speaking against "high ecclesiastical dignitaries" meant no more than that in private conversation with other Jesuits, I had frankly declared my opinion (on, I suppose, various occasions) of the cowardly attitude of some Irish Bishops during the National Revolt in Ireland. But who was there who did not criticise Bishops in those days?

From this moment onwards the Society acted towards me as

though I were an embarrassment. True, my last vows were grudgingly accorded me a couple of years later, but by that time it was a matter of indifference to me whether they were granted or not. The Order meanwhile began to show its dislike for my work in psycho-therapy and psycho-analysis. Articles I wrote were ruthlessly rejected by Jesuit Censors for the most childish reasons. One Censor rejected an article, and gave as his reason for so doing, that he could not find books on psycho-analysis in the book-shops in Dublin! Another Censor objected to my quoting non-Catholic psychologists. The Provincial and his staff, on another occasion having allowed me to begin a series of articles on the New Psychology in a Catholic review, refused to allow me to continue the series until I submitted all the articles together, as though it were a book that was to be published. Jesuits in England, however, welcomed most of the articles that the ! Irish Jesuits had rejected, and published them at once.

• ••••••

When my two years of special study in biology and psychology at London University were finished, my Provincial showed his appreciation of these sciences by sending me to teach .spelling, reading and recitation to little country boys in an out of the way village in Ireland. It is true that I also had to teach, for a few hours a week, a little philosophy to seminarians, but my chief work was to teach reading and spelling. To this I submitted for two years, but I felt, as time wore on, less and less faith in the wisdom of allowing myself to be trifled with and insulted at the whim of every pseudo-mystical Superior. Nevertheless, I continued to work hard, teaching longer hours than any other Master in the college, giving consultations to priests and Jesuits suffering from nerve troubles who came to me, answering a large correspondence, and finishing my book The New Psychology. As I knew that this work would be rejected by Irish Jesuits, I sent it to America, hoping that American Jesuits would be more broad-minded and understanding. They, however, held it up for nearly eighteen months and then decided that unless I added fulsome praise of scholastic psychology, and omitted certain perfectly innocuous passages, it could not be published. Having submitted to these humiliating and stupid conditions, I published the work, and within a week the first edition

was sold out. It apparently satisfied a need that the Catholic public of America had felt for a frank description of the new methods of mind-healing written in an open-minded tolerant manner.

My Provincial had meanwhile written to me as follows (July 22, 1924): "Would you like to go to New York for two years? Fr. Kelly, the Provincial, would, I think, be able to set you at work that would be congenial to you; he and I discussed the matter when at Rome." I answered at once that I should like to go on condition that I should be given work that was congenial. He answered, July 25: "I shall send a line to Fr. Kelly to ask him to give you facilities for your special work."

• ' • * • • • - •

During all my years in the Society my mother had kept in constant touch with me. She had visited me in the Noviceship; had come to Louvain on a few occasions to see me; and had done everything that a kind and understanding mother could do to render my time at Milltown Park less unendurable. She seemed to sense at an early date that life in the Society was not what it ought to be, and in her own wilful but affectionate way she tried to make up from outside for the lack of kindness that Jesuit Superiors showed. It was a touching, an amusing, an astonishing display of a mother's understanding. And what was particularly sweet about her conduct was that she deemed it her duty to be as helpful as she could to all other young Jesuits that she knew had the same kind of life to face that I had. She managed to smuggle in newspapers and reviews, to myself and my friends. She used to arrive at destinations where I and my Jesuit friends would terminate our walks on free days, never failing to carry with her a basket of tempting edibles and cigarettes. She did not dream of criticising either the Society's Superiors or the pretty obvious defections from strict rule that I and my friends were guilty of. She was content to play her strangely pious but disturbing part of a fairy-godmother to suffering Jesuits. And what irony there is in human fate! One of the Jesuits that enjoyed her hospitality in her hotel at Louvain, and who was most appreciative of her human spirituality, was destined to be the Provincial who finally did more than any other Superior to force me to part company with the Order. It was hard for me not to contrast the Christian goodness of my mother with the artifi-

cial and often repulsive holiness of the exemplary followers of Saint Ignatius, and I could never fail to see far more of Christ in her than in them. Finally, when I quitted the Order, it was no small solace to my spiritual yearnings to know that my. mother approved of what I had done, and yet she had been proud of having a son a Jesuit! What a sublet and curious, but understandable, inconsistency!

Shortly before I left Ireland for America there was an unexpected interruption of plans. A vacancy had occurred in Galway University in the Educational Department, and some members of the Professorial Staff suggested to the Jesuits that I should offer myself for the Chair. On account of my writings on modern psychology, my experience in education, and my University degrees, my candidature would have been very acceptable to the Faculty. The Jesuit "Editor of Studies" took the matter up with the Provincial on my behalf, and obtained'his approval of my presenting myself for the post.

My mother and relatives were delighted at the prospect of my being a professor at Galway University, as they had heard some rumours of my being sent to America and were greatly distressed thereat. Everything was looking well, as regards my candidature, when suddenly my Superiors changed their minds and I was informed that I was not to go forward for the post. A futile pretext was put forward as the reason for this change. For me it was another tragic instance of the ways of Jesuit Superiors.

Had I been allowed to accept this professorship at Galway I should have been in a position to do good service for my country and incidentally for the Order, and it is more than likely that the drastic.step of quitting the Order would not have been forced upon me as it subsequently was.

I have mentioned above that I made it clear to my Provincial that I was accepting the choice he offered me of coming to America on condition that I should get facilities for my work in psychology and psycho-therapy. It was on that understanding that I agreed to leave Ireland. The bait, of having "facilities for my special work," "work that was congenial," was held out to me by my Provincial and without sufficient reflection I snapped at that bait. I have since heard that he had a deep purpose in his mind. He had come to

see that a quarrel between myself and the Order was inevitable and he did not want it to take place in Ireland where I was very well known and where my cause would have received very strong support from outside quarters. He had realised that many priests and Catholic laymen in Ireland were exceedingly anxious to have psychoanalysis Catholicised and made available for them, and that they were looking to me to undertake this work. And my Provincial knew quite well that if I should break with the Order in Ireland on the grounds that it was hopelessly reactionary and benighted as regards modern mental science, much harm would accrue to the Society in Ireland. Hence very astutely he decided to shift the battle between myself and the Order to a large country in which I was practically unknown. It was a small matter to him that he used deception in so doing.

The value of the promise given me by my Provincial was disclosed to me on my arrival in New York. Instead of getting "facilities for my special work" in New York, I was informed that I was to go to Georgetown University, Washington, D, C., to teach sociology. About sociology I knew absolutely nothing, and I had no training whatsoever in it. I saw too late that I had been deceived by my \ Superior.

There was, however, the possibility of a mistake having been made, so I proceeded to Georgetown and interviewed the acting Dean, Fr. Edmund Walsh, S.J. There was no mistake. I was not to teach psychology or psycho-therapy but I was to be Professor of Sociology. I told the Dean that I knew nothing whatsoever about sociology. He said that that did not matter, that I would be able to carry on. I asked him was not Georgetown a University, and expressed surprise that a. University should appoint a professor to a chair in a science about which he was absolutely ignorant. Since then I have realised more fully that in Jesuit Universities scientific knowledge is not a sine qua non in a professor. At the last moment the Dean gave way, and said he would make other arrangements for the Chair of Sociology. For the p-esent I should be required to teach cathecism and nothing else, but later on in the year a short course of psychology might be arranged for me. So I found myself, therefore, after my long journey from Ireland, undertaken in order to find congenial work, put to teach cathecism

through the medium of a badly written translation, of a narrow-minded German Jesuit's treatise on the Catholic Faith.

I was not allowed .to practise psycho-therapy or psycho-analysis. I was told by the Jesuit President of Georgetown that a Benedictine priest, Fr. Moore, had opened a clinic to practise psycho-analysis and that it had been closed by ecclesiastical authorities. A few days later I found Fr. Moore, and discovered that his clinic was not only not closed but was flourishing. When I reported this to the President of Georgetown and renewed my request, he discovered some other pretext for refusing me.

Meanwhile Fr. Tierney, S.J., the Editor of the Jesuit weekly America had written to ask me for a series of articles on the new psychology. I sent him six and he was so pleased with them that he asked me to send him some more. He began to publish my articles on December 13, 1924. On January 26, following, he wrote to me. "I should like to have a talk with you. Frankly (don't worry about this), the conservatives of the house which gave you trouble before are after me 'hot and heavy' and through the Provincial forsooth!" This letter meant that the Jesuit reactionaries who had tried to prevent the publication of my book, The New Psychology* had now drawn their swords against Fr. Tierney on account of his action in publishing my articles in America. They were making a cat's-paw of the pious but incompetent Provincial and stirring him up against Fr. Tierney. For the time being, Fr. Tierney was able to hold his own against their intrigues, but on February 5, he wrote me as follows: "May I not say that there is an interesting development in regard to your articles? Yesterday I received a ukase from the Rt. Rev., or Very Rev., or Reverend Provincial ordering me to suspend all further articles. This case is interesting for many reasons and will prove in the future more interesting still."

I believe that Fr. Tierney contested the Provincial's jurisdiction over America", however, before he could refer the matter to Rome he fell suddenly ill and had to resign his editorship. 5 The publica-

4 Publ. by Kennedy, New York.

e One of the staff of America, wrote me the following mysterious note, shortly after the sudden illness of Fr. Tierney: "There are many things about which I would like to talk to you at this moment, but the most important questions cannot be discussed by letter. Keep up your good fight and don't worry no matter what you hear."

tion of the articles was at once suspende'd. No word of explanation was offered to me, nor was any effort made to protect my name against the imputation of unorthodoxy which this drastic stoppage of my articles implied. America continued to pursue its course of dealing out Catholic doctrine of a kind that would be inoffensive to watchful Jesuit reactionaries.

Meanwhile my MSS. were not returned to me nor was payment offered for them, even after I left the Society. My letters to the Editor asking for payment or the return of the articles were ignored. Finally, I laid this matter before His Eminence Cardinal Hayes and notified the Jesuit Provincial that I had done so. Only then did I receive a cheque in payment for my articles. The cheque which I received was 'predated by a few months, which detail I interpreted as an interesting little example of the holy prudence and "guileless-ness" of the Society.

I was next invited by the authorities of Fordham University to deliver a course of public lectures on the "New Psychology" during Lent, each Sunday afternoon, at the Jesuit Public Hall in West Sixteenth Street. All arrangements were duly made, permissions received, and the Lectures were widely advertised. Already tickets had been sold, when the Provincial issued a ukase to Fordham University forbidding the course of Lectures. At once there was an uproar and the Fordham authorities protested so strongly that the Provincial had to compromise. The compromise took the form of a series of restrictions on the lecturer. The lectures should be submitted for censorship in advance. No matters touching on sex were to be alluded to. There was to be tremendous emphasis given to the freedom of the will; the immortality of the soul; the spirituality of the soul, etc. Also, as I discovered afterwards, an official syndicus (spy) was appointed by the Provincial to attend the lectures and to report to him on them. I have many letters from Fr. P. Lebuffe, S.J., the Dean of the Fordham Social Service School, who was the organiser of the lectures, some of which are interesting reading. In one he writes: "Yes, I realise that you were quite conscious of your imposed limitations, but 'for the love of .Mike' keep them. » Say as little as you can about sex and ram down the freedom of the willy etc.y as much as possible. It is a case of adjusting yourself to objective conditions." In another letter he wrote: "Yes, Fr. C.

was there but I doubt as an 'official .witness' (spy). Anyway he was much pleased—manifested this to Fr. A. who is our witness and very sympathetic with you." After some compliments on the lectures I had already given he continued, "Ram downy and, re-ratn down the freedom of the will, the spirituality of the soul, the immortality of the soul y the real distinction between essence and existence and the < ubicatio fluens? etc., etc. But-—joking aside—hit and hit again these fundamental ideas, and I am sure all will be well."

From the story of these lectures the reader will be able to realise the absurdity of Jesuits pretending to be exponents of science and in sympathy therewith. Science may not be freely discussed by a Jesuit. He may be allowed to give a little science well diluted with metaphysics and religion, but only in such a way. In my lectures on pathological psychology, the introduction of the metaphysical doctrines about the soul was as out of place and inappropriate, as would have been the introduction of remarks on the principles of cookery. But such was the conception of science and of the way that scientific lectures should be given by the up-to-date Jesuits of New York in 1925.

My story is now drawing to a close, although some painful incidents still remain to be told. I had come to America on the understanding that I should get facilities for my work. I found that I had been deceived. I was forbidden to touch psycho-therapy although many Nuns, Priests and Jesuits, Superiors included, were begging me for advice and guidance. My writings, although approved by the Jesuit Censors whose duty it was to censor them, were forbidden publication. My lectures were only allowed under impossible and absurd conditions, although I was inundated with requests for lectures from Catholic institutions. I had been all but forced to become a professor of sociology, and when I escaped that, I was made a professor of cathecism with but one short course of psychology towards the latter half of the school year at Georgetown.

It was hard for me not to feel, after such experiences, that in the eyes of the Order I was an embarrassment, and furthermore I

began to suspect that it was with a view to giving me an opportunity of leaving the Order in a place where I should least injure the Order, that I had been sent to America. It was clear that I no longer enjoyed the confidence of the Order, and indeed I had come to attach very little importance to such confidence, for I knew from long experience that in general It was bestowed only on subservient and intellectually insincere men. It was no difficult conclusion for me to come to that the right thing for me to do, the thing also that every gentlemanly instinct of my nature prompted me to do, was to relieve the Society of Jesus of the embarrassment I was causing it.

• • • • • •••

I should like to add this significant fact, one which I take to be little to the credit of the Order, that in spite of all the censorship to which my writings had been submitted, and in spite of all the hostile Jesuit critics that had scrutinised those writings, no single sentence of any of my writings was ever shown to be untenable or even unorthodox. Jesuits had persecuted the "New Psychology" in me, and they had been unable to prove it guilty of the smallest crime against morality or truth!

As regards the painful incidents that precipitated my departure, it may be interesting to refer briefly to one or two. At the close of one of my lectures at the Jesuit Hall in Sixteenth Street a pious lady had asked me should I have any typing work to do to give it to her, as it would be of help to her to have a little extra work. I promised to remember her should I have occasion to have some writings typed and she gave me her address. I little thought at the time that she was a potential spy of the Order. Some time later I drew up a paper stating my qualifications as a lecturer which I intended to submit to a lecture agency. I sent for the pious lady who had given me her name and asked her to type two copies of this paper and to return them to me as soon as possible. I told her explicitly that the paper 'was confidential and she promised to regard it as such. She typed the paper without delay and returned me the two copies I had asked for together with my original MS.

Whether or not she was an agent of the Jesuits I do not know, but this I do know that the Jesuit Provincial immediately after was

in possession of a copy of my confidential paper and he accused me, falsely, of course, of circulating it in thousands throughout America.

The last link binding me to the Order was severed one evening in June (1925). At the time I was staying at the Jesuit House in Sixteenth Street (N.Y.C.). I had been absent for a day, visiting'an elderly priest who was living in a sanatorium, under the charge of nuns, and who was a nervous wreck, as the result, so his sister told me, of having lost his parish through some questionable intrigue of the Jesuits. When I returned to Sixteenth Street the next evening about 9 P. M., I was stopped at the door by the servant who said he had a message for me from the Superior. I asked him what it was. "The Superior told me to tell you" replied the servant, "that there •was no room for you in the house, t and that you were to stop at a hotel."

"No room for me," I asked, "but are there not several vacant rooms?" "There are, sir," replied the poor fellow, and I noticed there were tears in his eyes. "Father" he continued, "I never heard of a -priest being treated like this before"

I went out on the street dazed and angry. This certainly was the acme of insult and the negation of Christianity. I never had dreamed that Jesuit Superiors would go quite so far as this! It was but an unimportant aspect of the matter that such conduct was utterly uncanonical, and against every precept of religious observance. I knew well that Jesuits were capable, when it suited them, of disregarding Canon Law and such things. But I had never suspected that they could depart so far from the rules of common decency. It was fortunate for me that I had a little silver in my pocket and had not to spend the night on the streets. I need not say that I never again sought the hospitality of a Jesuit house and I hope I never shall.

• • • |»- • )• I •

Twenty years had passed since I had entered the Society of Jesus, believing in the description given of it by the Jesuit General Roothan, as "a splendid abiding-place of science, piety and virtue; an august temple extending over the earthy consecrated to the glory of God and the salvation of souls" I had given the best years of my life to the Society, striving as faithfully as I could to realise the

ideal of the perfect Jesuit, "one who, having shed all personal interests and affections, clothes himself with Christ, and shows himself in labour, patience, charity and the love of truth the servant of God, fighting with the arms of Justice through days of ill-fame and days of honour." But all was in vain. I found the Jesuit Order was not the home of my dreams, or a "splendicl abiding-place of science, piety and virtue." It was a house, not quite in ruins, but tumbling down, and carpeted with ashes. It was a house haunted by grim-visaged inquisitors with up-raised threatening fingers. It was no longer an "august temple consecrated to the glory of God," but an effete sanctuary where spiritless, uninspiring ceremonies were pursued that were a mockery of the glorious past. Disillusionment had come to me slowly as step by step I followed the path laid out by the Jesuit Constitutions. One by one my dreams were shattered; one hope after another of being able to achieve some good while remaining a Jesuit failed me, and at last, convinced that if I lingered any longer in the Order all my life would be wasted, I left. Like Fr. Tyrrell it was some comfort to me to have pierced through the mist and shadows that cloud the minds of so many others. "It is a good life's work" -wrote Fr. Tyrrell, "to have arrived by personal experience and reflection at the solution of so 'plausible and complicated a fallacy as that of Jesuitism"

Some months after leaving the Order I had a third experience of a strange kind, not quite so definite and objective as my previous experiences, but no doubt connected with them in some way. This experience symbolised for me the end of my tragic Jesuit dream.

At the time I was taking a few weeks rest on a rocky, spruce-clad islet off the coast of Maine. It was in the Fall and each evening the vista of the sun settling to rest in its ample bed of silver water thrilled me. To enjoy this vista I used make my way to a lonely promontory and sit on the rocks over the sea. One evening, near sun-down, as I was going to my accustomed haunt I saw in the distance at the end of the promontory a tall figure, shrouded in black. It seemed to me that it was the gaunt woman of the black shawl once more, but I could not see her face. For a moment the figure was silhouetted against the reddening sky, then it seemed to

raise its arms and sink slowly into the waters. So died away my last particle of faith in the belief I had cherished for so many years that the Jesuit was the re-embodiment of Jesus.

M

The question often occurred to me when in the Society of Jesus, how much do Superiors know of the inner minds of their subjects? How far do they plumb the depths of disappointment and despair in the hearts of the rank and file? It was my lot when in the Order to come across many anguished hearts, hearts broken with disappointment. Again and again were repeated to me the same words. "I would have left long ago but for . . ." and the missing words were often "my father" or "my mother." How many mothers, all unconscious of their Jesuit son's unhappiness and of the fact that he is clinging to the Society to save them pain, go forth boasting of the virtue and the glory of the Jesuit Order!

One Jesuit, a high Superior, through whose hands came to. me the official acceptance of my withdrawal, told me on the eve of his ordination, many years ago, that he could not tell how he had ever reached the point of his priesthood. He had simply drifted blindly along in deep depression guided by the hands of fate.

Many young Catholics become Jesuits believing that the spirit of enterprise still exists in the Order. They dream of doing good work in ways that lie outside the stereotyped and economically safe paths of ordinary Apostolic endeavour. They are idealists and they look to the Society of Jesus as being the one and only Order where Ideals are pursued. Too late they find out their mistake. There is no room in the Society of Jesus for Idealists. Those who dream dreams are ruthlessly crushed and eventually most of them, in disillusionment and despair, resign themselves cynically to hidden lives of selfish inertia. The economic law has played havoc with the primitive spirit of the Order and with the "interior law of charity and love" that was to be its one and only Constitution. In religion as in the world, tragedy follows in the wake of this great universal economic law, and the holocaust of Jesuit Idealists marks its progress in the Order.

If asked by some one anxious to understand the Jesuit, what

salient virtue and what salient vice marks the Jesuit as such, I should answer that courage is the outstanding Jesuit virtue, and arrogance the outstanding Jesuit vice.

Jesuits, good and bad, learned and ignorant, sincere or deceitful, have for the most part remarkable courage. This courage is based on the self-control internal as well as external to which they are trained. They have been taught to face the most dire and terrible thoughts in their prayers and meditations; and to face the most complete and absolute sacrifices. And a certain reckless daring of spirit is a natural result of all this. Something, too, of the cold resolute bravery of their soldier-founder, Ignatius, is traditional in the Order, and one meets with countless instances of Jesuits who bear physical pain and moral hardship with remarkable courage.

The arrogance of Jesuits is, however, no less conspicuous than their courage. They teach, speak, act with so much dogmatism and cock-sureness that they seem to be under the impression that infallibility and inerrancy are the special privileges of the Order. As a whole the Order firmly believes that it is always in the right. It admits no blemish, confesses to no short-comings, defers to the judgment of none, and holds strongly and continually that its "side is the side of Christ." Insincerity is of course rampant in Jesuits, but arrogance is even more prevalent.

During the months that followed my break with the Order, I nourished the hope, in secret, that facilities for the continuation of my ministry as a priest would come through some Christlike impulse of the Order.

In my last letter to my Jesuit Superior in Ireland, while insisting on my determination to leave the Order, I had expressed the hope that he would see his way to make some arrangement at Rome so that I could still be of service to the Church in my priestly capacity. But to this letter and request he did not condescend to reply.

After waiting some time I approached certain American bishops, but found, as Fr. Tyrrell had found in his case, that the Order had forestalled me, and I was not surprised when Episcopal gates were slammed in my face. One exceedingly eminent prelate and Cardinal informed me that, although he personally wished very much to give me all the usual privileges of his diocese while I remained in it, he

found that tie was powerless to do so owing to a canonical discrimination against its ex-members that the Order had secured at Rome.

i.i .• . . .

I still preserve a few letters as relics of my last days in the Order. There is one in which the Provincial of the New York Province "takes occasion to thank me for my services to Georgetown and for my willingness to help the Province." There is another from the Jesuit President of Georgetown University to one of my relatives in which he refers to me as one "of whom we all think very highly and who is a credit to every member of his family." But the most interesting of all is an envelope, addressed to me to Georgetown and delivered there shortly after my leaving the Order. The Jesuits returned it to the Postoffice having written one word 'across my name. The word was—"Unknown."

THE END

Absolutism, 40, 89; of Jesuit General,

in, 277; in Church, 219. "Acta Sanctorum," 37.

Activities, present day, of Order, 41.

Acquaviva, S.J., Claudius, General, 17; as general, 34; character, 34, 35; relations with Sixtus V, 47, 48, 56, 81, 96; views on Manifestation of Conscience, 116; refers to "ex-terns," 125; chastity, 137; favors women of high rank, 137; employs Hoffaus, S.J., as "visitator," 140; draws up "Ratio," and the "In-dustriae," on Mind-Healing, 150; forestalls Freud, 152, 154, 158, 160, 163; views as to requirements of Jesuit Professors, 175, 209; attitude as regards Tyrannicide, 233, 267; reactionary spirit, 276.

Mierni Patris, 277.

Alber, S.J., 47.

Alcala, 23, 82.

Alexander VII, Pope, 37, 57, 248, 269.

Alexander VIII, Pope, 269.

Alfonso XII, 40.

Allen, Cardinal, 93.

Ambrose, Saint, 225, 258.

Andrada, S.J., 38.

Annat, S.J., 60.

Anthony, of Padua, Saint, 198.

Aquinas, Saint Thomas, 88, 89, 176, 228, 277.

Araoz, S.J., Father, 32, 35, 46.

Archette, 53.

Aristotle, 169, 173, 174, 228,

Arrogance, Cordara's Memoirs, 98; Superiority Complex, 103, 220, 299J tone of "Ratio," 167; Order's assumption of Superiority in Cath-

341

Arrogance— continued

olic Church, 220; characteristic of

individual Jesuits, 338. Art, 296.

Ascendente Domino, 233. Attachment, to Society, 295. Auger, S.J., 60. Augustinians, 29.

B

Bacon, Francis, 166.

Basil, Saint, 154, 171.

Bastille, 97.

Bathori, King of Poland, 59.

Beer, incident in Noviceship, 284.

Belley, Bishop of, 62.

Benedict XIV, Pope, 49; condemns "Malabar rites," 49; appoints Official Visitator to Society, 49; 248, 269.

Benedictines, 27, 71, 167, 299.

Berchmans, S.J., Saint John, 197, 216.

Bergamo, 118.

Bermudez, S.J., 252.

Beschi, S.J., Constant, 38, 39.

Bethlehem, 81, 214.

Beyschlag, Dr., 232.

Bieczynski, S.J., Provincial, letter on lispionage, 108, in.

Blyssem, S.J., 252.

Bobadilla, S.J., Father, 23, 29, 33, 209.

Bollandists, 37.

Bollandus, S.J., Father, 37.

Bononia, 138.

Borgia, S.J., Saint Francis, General, 17, 29; received by Ignatius, 32, 34, 46; relations with Pope Pius V; 47, 62.

Bosse, Dr., 221.

Bourbons, 112, 263, 270.

Index

Bourgeois, S.J., 51.

Broet, S.J., Father, 24, 29, 33, 138.

Bruno, Saint, 19.

Brussels, 215,

Canisius, S.J., Blessed, 29.

Cano, Melchior, 63, 208.

Camara, S.J., 123.

Campbell, S.J., Father T. J. His work, "The Jesuits" 1921, 32 et Passim.

Caprivi, Count, 220.

Caraffa, Cardinal, 48, 179.

Carboni, S.J., 60.

Carlyle, Thomas, 20, 22, 23, 32, 44, 61, 281, 298.

Carnova, S.J., 179.

Carpi, Cardinal, 33.

Casuistry, 39, cf. "Mental Reservation."

Catherein, S.J., 241.

Catherine the Great, 18, 53, 138, 283; protects Jesuits against Pope Clement, 52.

"Catholic World," 217.

Caussin, S.J., 251.

Censorship of Books, 94; coercing Jesuit authors, 230, 232; troubles of Tyrrell, S.J., 280, 315; author's experiences in Order, 331,

333, 334-

Chanones, John, 65.

Charles V, Emperor, 29, 209.

Chastity, claim of Fr. Genelli, S.J., on behalf of Order, 126; Cordara, S.J., to same effect, 126; v<jws of Chastity 127; Rules of Modesty, 128; "Ne tangas" rule, 130; novel reading, 130; petting animals, 130; Order's attitude towards women, 131; women deserving of visits, 132; "testis," 133; confessions of women, 135; letters to women, 135; Jesuit strategy against sex, 137; "clausura," 137; scandals, 140; Jesuit neglect of "safeguards," 142; signs of sex-conflict in Jesuits, 142; spiritual polygamists,

Chastity— continited 142; Novices' chastity, 143; homosexual Jesuits, 148, 204.

China, 35, 36, 38, 51, 210, 212.

Chrysostom, 171.

Cicero, 98, 171.

"Civilta Cattolica," and Hoens-broech, 225.

Clavius, S.J., 37.

Clement VIII, Pope, 35, 48.

Clement IX, Pope, 212, 269.

Clement X, Pope, 269.

Clement XI, Pope, 238, 269.

Clement XII, Pope, 269.

Clement XIII, Pope, 95, 99.

Clement XIV, Pope, regarded Jesuits as "mischief-makers," 20, 31, 35; Jesuit disobedience and contumacy towards Clement, 49, 53; Clement's accusations against Jesuits, of greed of gold, 209, and treachery, 218; Jesuit writers pretend Clement's brief Domi-nus ac Redemptor, which suppressed the Order, was a vindication, 245; Clement's election to Papacy, 262; draws up Brief of Suppression, 264; points out sources of evil in Order, 264; alludes to vain efforts of previous Popes to reform the Order, 267; his sense of honour, 270; Spirit of the Brief, 273.

Clongowes Wood, College, 121, 122, 148, 173, 178, 180, 183, 192, 303, seq.

Codure, S.J., Father, 24.

Coimbra, 29.

"Common Rules," 93, 106, 122, 226.

Confession, syndici and confessions, 108; accusations of de Canaye, 118, and of Marie Therese, 119; confessors as Superiors, 119; Jesuits' confessions; restrictions, 119; "starving" as punishment, 120; "reserved sins" in Order, 120; Mendoza, S.J., protests, 121; Royal Confessors, 253.

Congo, 18, 29, 38.

Consalvi, Cardinal, 58.

343

Conservatism, in doctrine, 89, 228; in practice, cf. "Repression."

Constitutions of Order, "formula," 26, 27; against "novitates," 42; approved by Paul III, re-examined by Paul IV, 46; Popes Pius V and Sixtus V, and Constitutions, 46, 47; "Institute" denned, 84; criticism forbidden, 86; "liberty" of opinion, 90; "conspiring'' against, no; insistence on "Manifestation," 116; chastity, 126, 131; relation to "Industrise," 154; temptations against Institute, 157; in relation to education, 170; "repression," 188, 204; Jesuit "escapes" from effects of Constitutions, 245; their "iron-bound" quality, 300.

Cordara, S.J., Father, 31, 98, 126, 209, 212, 265, 269.

Cosmetics, Ignatius advises against, 259, seq.

Costanza, 138.

Cotton, S.J., 252.

Coue, 153.

Council of Trent, Clement XIV shows it did not "approve" the Order, 272, 281.

Courage, Jesuit virtue, 338.

"Court Cardinals," 262.

Cretineau-Joly, 51, 234, 251, 252.

Cromwell, 18, 302.

Cruciata, 254.

Cuculain, 247.

Czerniewicz, S.J., 52.

de Beaumont, Archbishop, 54; letter to Pope Clement; 54,

D

de Britto, S.J., 38, 39-

Debuchy, S.J., 67, 68, 75-

de Canaye, 118, 119.

de Cisneros, Garcia, 65.

"De Defectibus Societatis," 233.

de la Berthier, Abbe, 97 seq.

Delhi, 18.

Delrio, S.J., 239.

de Medici, Catherine, 33.

de Medici, Duke Cosimo, 213.

de Mendoza, S.J., Hernando, 121. Demosthenes, 171.

de Nobili, S.J., 38, 39-

de Ravignan, S.J., 53, 236, 237, 251.

de Rohan, Cardinal, 97.

de Smet, S.J., Father, 38, 149.

de Tournon, Cardinal, 39, 49, 269.

"De Wet," 260.

Dez, S.J., 49.

Dismissal, 91; conditions of, 91, 99;

dismissorial papers, 91; Jesuit use

of term "dismissed," 92, in;

espionage and dismissal, 112;

privileges of Order, dismissal

without trial, 254; Pope Clement's

view of Jesuit Practice, 281; fear

of, in Noviceship, 311. "Disquisitionum Magicarum," 239. Don Carlos, 40. Don Pedro, of Portugal, 60. Dominicans, 21, 27, 65, 135, 208,

290, 299. Dominus ac Redemptor, 264, seq.,

282. Doyle, S.J., William, 198; neurotic

tendencies, 199. Du Barry, Mme., 53. Dublin, 97, 103, 139, 215, 261, 302,

308, seq.

Duke of Bavaria, 47, 170. du Quene, Admiral, 211. Dymphna, Saint, 136.

Ecclesia Catholicae, 95.

Edification, 93, 94.

Education, publication of "Ratio Studiorum," 165; Ignatius enterprise in, 166; founding colleges, 167; indebtedness of Jesuits to older systems, 169; changes in "Ratio," 172; classics emphasised, 170; Jesuit self-interest in educational ventures, 170; characteristics of "Ratio," 172 seq.; corporal punishment, 173; submissiveness required in professors, 175; author's experience, 178; ignorance of "Ratio," 178; lack of training in Jesuit teachers, 179, seq.;

Index

Education— continued "Ratio" and the vernacular, 182; "touting" for vocations, 184; coercion of thought, 185, 304, 316.

Edward VII, of England, 220.

"End Justifies Means," the doctrine, 224; repudiated by Order, 224; the practice of the maxim, 225; treatment of lay-brothers, 226; coercion of thought, 227, seq.; St. Francis and forcible conversions, 228; execution of heretics, 229; censorship, 230; Novices kept in ignorance, 231; "use of poisoned gas," 232; Mariana, S.J., and la Valette, S.J., made scapegoats of Order, 232, seq.; la Croix affair, 236; "probabilism," 238, seq.; Jesuit attitude towards heresy, 241; Jesuit Obedience, 242.

England, 39, 196, 220, 222, 235.

"Epitome Instituti Societatis Jesu," ed. 1924, quoted passim;

Equivocation, 239, seq.

Erasmus, 167.

Escape, Jesuit methods of, 245; through privileges, 246; Ignatius' examples, 246; escape from ordinances of Paul V and Innocent X, 248; from severity of "Constitutions," 248; the "Apostolic Dispensation" from Poverty, 250; the use of pretexts, 256; escape from criticism, 258; individual Jesuit escapes from being "caught," 260; incidents, 271.

Escobar, S.J., 75-

Espionage, syndici, (spies) 105, 106; secret government, ioj> ! ; the Jesuit system of, 106; types of syndici, 107; syndicus and confessions, 108; "visitors" at prayers, 108; Fr. Bieczynski's letter, 108; Ranke's view, 109; Jesuits, and the "confidences" of brother-Jesuits, 109; spying in Noviceship, in; secret information and dismissals, in; courtesy towards informers, 113; novices trained to spy, 113; spying.in colleges, 121;

Espionage— continued spymania, 121; author's experiences, 123, 124, 334; Fr. "X," and spying, 202; 245, 278.

Excommunication, 29, of Louis XIV, 49, 86, 91; Innocent X censures Order for excommunicating Bishop Palafox, 255, 268, 283.

Ex Debito, 212.

"Ex-Jesuits," Order's anger against their criticism, 225; Tyrrell's views, 259; Hoensbroech, 259, 282.

Faber, Fr. F. W., 87.

Faber, S.J., Father, 23, 24, 29, 55,

56.

Fawkes, Guy, 18. Ferdinand VII, 40. Fire, incident in Noviceship, 286. Fordham University, 43, 332. Forer, S.J., Laurentius, 251. "Forming One's Conscience," 256,

seq. Francis Xavier, S.J., Saint, 23, 29;

his "restlessness," 149; dislike of

Jews and Moslems, 208; plan for

securing converts, 228. Francis of Assisi, Saint, 198. Franciscans, 21, 27, 65, 135, 167, 299. "Fratres Conventuales Reformati,"

265.

"Fratres Humiliati," 265. Frederick the Great, 18, 52, 283. Freud, Sigmund, 152, 164.

Galileo, 18.

Gallican Articles, 236.

Galway, 178, 322, 329.

Games, 291 (an incident).

Garibaldi, 18.

Gamier, S.J., 263.

Genelli, S.J., and Jesuit chastity,

126, 140, 141. General Congregation, 35,, 58, 86,

no, 119, 121, 131, 158, 175, 210,

228,234,238,247,249.

345

General of Jesuits, 18; his powers, 27, 28; trouble at elections of, 55, seq.; letters, marked "Soli," 106; reports of syndici, 113, 127, "Black Pope's" power at Rome, 219.

Georgetown University (Washington, D. C), 178, 213, 330, 339-

Gerrard, S.J., 138.

Gerrard of Zutphen, 66.

Gillis, Father, 217.

Gonzago, S.J., Saint Aloysius, 197, 202, 216.

Gonzalez, S.J., General, 57.

Government, author's experience of harshness, 313, 321, 329, 335.

Grand Lama, 18.

Gratuitous Services, 94; in education, 166, seq.; Bishop of Gambray, 243; Jesuit rules of "freely giving," 249; author's experience, 318.

Gravissime Nos, 277

Great Mogul, 18.

"Great Storm," the, 34; Jews in the trouble, 42; Sixtus V, 47; Spanish Jesuits' claims, 56.

"Great War," Jesuit attitude, 41, 216.

Gregory XIII, Pope, 47, 56.

Gregory XIV, Pope, 35, 96, 267.

Gretser, S.J., 37-

Guetee, Abbe, 63.

Guidiccioni, Cardinal, 27, 246, 256.

Gustavus, Adolphus, 18, 251.

H

Hammerstein, S.J., 241.

Harnack, and Jesuit historians, 237.

Hegel, '174.

Henry VIII, of England, 29.

Henry III, of France, 232.

Henry IV, of France, 18, 118, 233.

"Hobbies," of Jesuits, 196, seq.

Hoensbroech, Count von, 139; relations with Kaiser, 220, seq,; "End Justifies Means," controversy, 224; experience with Fr. Pesch, S.J., 232, 240, 252; "Fourteen years a Jesuit," 259.

Hoffaus, S.J., (Visitator), 140, 141, 209.

Hohenlohe, Prince, 221.

Hojeda, S.J., 232.

Holy Land, 23, 24.

Holy See, Jesuit attitude towards, 45, 46; a "Remonstrance" to Gregory XIII, 47; difficulties of Sixtus V with Order, 47, and of Clement VIII, 49, and Innocent XI, 49; contumacy of Order, towards Clement XIV, 49, seq;. and Innocent X, 55; Ignatius' attitude towards Paul IV, 247; Paul V, 247; Innocent X, 248; Clement XIV anticipates Jesuit disobedience, 271, seq.

Homer, 171. i Horace, 21, 170.

Hughes, S.J., 102, 166, 169, 185, 245, 264.

Hume, Major, 40.

Huysmans, 63.

Ignatius Loyola, wounded at Pam-peluna, 22; early religious life, 22, 23; at Paris, 23; his associates at Venice, 24; visions, 25; founds the "Company of Jesus," 27; draws up Constitutions, 28; his character, 30; his policy, 31; his government of the Order, 31 seq.; accused of insincerity by Carlyle, 44; circumstances of Ignatius' election, 55; the Spiritual Exercises, 66; his chivalry appears in Exercises, 78, seq.; Ingatius' simplicity, 81; his interest in his subjects, 123; educational enterprise, 166; indifference to progress of science, 185; his "escape" method, 246; his ambition to have approval of the "Council of Trent," for the Order, 272; decrease of powers, 280.

Illuminati, 25.

"Imago Primi Saeculi," 74, 96; and Martin Luther, 97; reply of Abbe de la Berthier, 97.

Indifferentism, 79, 186, 189.

Indiscipline in Order, at elections of Generals, 55; "Conspirators," 57, 58; Tyrrell's view, 278; cf., "explosions."

Ingolstadt, 36.

Innocent X, Pope, 109, 119; Palafox letter, 210, 248; condemns Jesuit practices, 255, 269.

Innocent XI, Pope, 33, 48; enraged against Society, 49, 57, 264, 269.

Innocent XII, Pope, 269.

Innocent XIII, Pope, 264, 269.

Ireland, 29, 104, 178, 196, 222, 240 261, 284, 301, 338.

Irish Nationalism, 100; Sinn Fein, 222, 316, 317, 322, 326.

Isabella II, of Spain, 40.

Ismat Saniassi, 38,

James II, of England, 251.

Jansenius, 18.

Janssen, 63.

Jerusalem, 26, 78.

Jesuit "Contradictions," 44.

Jesuit Professors, 89; position as regards philosophy, 174; qualifications, 175; submissiveness required, 175; author's experience, 330.

Jesuit writers, 37; and censorship, 230; Mariana's book, 232.

Jews, attitude of Order towards Jews, 43; Jews and Jesuits compared, 42, 208, 242.

Jogues, S.J., Isaac, 38.

"John Bull," 187.

John III, of Sweden, 59. f

John IV, of Sweden, 251.

Joyce, James, 183.

Juniorate, life in, 311.

K

Kaiser, 220, 221.

Kant, 174; Fr. "S" and Kant, 176.

Kiel, 221.

King Albert, of Belgium, 221.

Kircher, S.J., 37.

Koran, 71, 144.

la Croix, S.J., Provincial, signs Gal-

lican articles, 236, Laffite, 63. Lainez, S.J., General, 23, 29, 33, 34,

46; accused of seizing power, 56;

regulations regarding colleges,

171, 213, 272. La Marche, S.J., finds la Valette,

S.J., guilty of trading, 235. Lamormaini, S.J., 251. "Latin Rule," 197. Laybrothers, 28, 226, 227, 277. Layman, S.J., 251. la Valette, S.J., 21, 234, 235. Lazarist, Fathers, 39. Ledochowski, S.J., General, 177, 314. Lehmkuhl, S.J., and Mariana, S.J.,

234-

Leibnitz, 174. Le Jay, S.J., Father, 24. Leo XIII, Pope, 277. Letellier, S.J., 252. Letters, opened and read, 115;

marked "soli," 106; destined for

women, 135. Lieber, 220, 221. Lipsius, Justus, 239. "Little Flower," 214, 298. Lovel, Lady, 138. Louis XIII, 253. Louis XIV, 18, 48, 49, 211. Louvain, 165, 166, 176, 207, 239, 291,

313.

Lowenstein, Prince, 222. Ludolph of Saxony, 22, 65. Lukanus, 221. Luther, Martin, 54, 63, 97, 224.

M

Macaulay, on Spiritual Exercises,

68.

Machiavelli, 20, 161. "Malabar and Chinese rites," 39,

247, 269. Malta, 275. Manares, S.J., 56, 60, 173.

347

Manifestation of Conscience, 108; prescribed for all, 116; Acquaviva and Manifestation, 116; adopted outside the Order, 117; New Code of Canon Law prohibits Manifestation, 117; how Superiors use knowledge gained in Manifestations, 117; experience of author, 117, seq. Manning, Cardinal, 100.

Manresa, 22, 23, 43, 65, 66.

Marcellus, Pope, 247.

Margaret Mary, Blessed, 298.

Mariana, S.J., 109, 209, and Lehm-kuhl, S.J., 234.

Marie Therese, 119, 181.

Martin, M., 211, 212.

Martinique, 212, 234, 235.

Martin, S.J., General, 173, 274; his tribute to Fr. Tyrrell.

Mary Queen of Scots, 18.

Mazarin, 18.

Membership, of Society, 29, 34, 35, 39, 207, 213, 279.

Menology, of Society of Jesus, 275.

"Mental Reservation," 239, seq.; author's experience, 240, 245.

Mercurian, S.J., General, 56, 137.

Messenger of the Sacred Heart, 94; source of wealth and power, 213; an advertising medium for Jesuit wares, 215; the "Irish Messenger" of Jan., 1927, 215.

Methods of Prayer, 73.

Mexico, 20, 37, 39, 210.

Mind-Healing, in Order, abnormal Jesuits, 145; persecution-mania, 145; "fetishism," "sadism," "exhibitionism," "arithmomania," 146, seq.; homosexuality, 148; "mother-fixation" on Order, 149; General Acquaviva's treatise, "Industrie," 150, seq.; sixteen Jesuit diseases, 153; "fear of God," as element of cure, 154; the Jesuit Constitutions, as a pharmacy, 154; how "sick" Jesuits are threatened and punished, 159; espionage, as element of treatment, 166; the Devil's part in neuroses, 163; criticism of Jesuit mindvhealing, 163, seq.

Missioners, Rules for, 92. Missions, 29; under Acquaviva, 35;

Fr. Beschi, 39; characteristics of

Jesuit Missions, 39, 51, 197;

Paraguay, 211; Martinique, 234,

314. Modesty, rules of, 87, 94, 128, 130;

in abeyance, 142, 195, 203, 244. "Monita Generalia," 251. Monks of St. Bernard, 167. Monod, S.J., 251. Montmartre, 23, 25. Montserrat, 22, 65. Moreira, S.J., 60. Munich, 36. Music, forbidden in Order, 189.

N

Name, "Society of Jesus," origin, 25; Sixtus V orders it changed, 47, 95, 158; a source of prestige, 216.

Napoleon, 18.

Nepos, 171.

"Ne Tangas," rule, 130, 142, 204.

Newman, Cardinal, 258, 276.

Nickel, S.J., General, 57, 253.

Nicolai, S.J., 59.

Nidhard, S.J., 60, 252.

Nietzsche, 174.

Nile, 18, 38.

"Nine First Fridays," 215, 298.

"Nostra Minima Societas," 95, 99.

Noviceship, life in, 309, seq.

Novices, training, 309, seq.; fear-motive, 311.

O

Obedience, of Jesuits, 51, 53; criticism of Jesuit Obedience, 242; "Blind Obedience," 287; cf. "Holy See."

Olave, S.J., Bernard, 243.

Oliva, S.J., General, 57, 58, 181.

Orlandini, S.J., Father, 168.

Ormanetto, Cardinal, 34.

Ortiz, 26.

"Our Way," 86.

Padua, 29, 118, 165.

Paez, S.J., 38.

Palaf ox, Venerable Bishop, 109; letter to Innocent X, in, 210; quarrel with the Order, 255.

Pampeluna, 22.

Panzi, S.J., 51-

Paraguay, 37, 211.

Parana River, an.

Paray le Monial, 298.

Paris, 18, 23, 165, 166, 207.

Parsons, S.J., 60, 252.

"Particular Examen," 73, 113.

Pastoralis Officii Cwra, 62.

Patchtler, S.J., 183.

Paul III, Pope, 26, 27, 62, 63, 64, 95, 138, 266.

Paul IV, Pope, 45; examines Jesuit Constitutions, 46, 56, 247, 267.

Paul V, Pope, 247, 268, 269.

Paulist Fathers, 217.

Penances, 101, 102; in Noviceship, 310; cf. "Repression."

Pergen, Count, 181,

Pesch, S.J., 232.

Petre, S.J., 60, 251.

Petrucci, S.J., 58.

Phsedrus, 171.

Philip II, 18, 34, 47, 56, 59, 233, 267.

Philosophy, 90; fidelity to Aristotle, 174; subservience to Theology, 174. 228; story of Fr. "S" and Kant, 176; Jesuit scepticism, 287.

Pietroboni, S.J., 58.

Pius IV, Pope, 33, 56.

Pius V, Pope Saint, 34, 4$, 47, ,60, 265, 266, seq.

Pius VI, Pope, 53, 55-

Pius VII, Pope, 36.

Pius IX, Pope, 53, 54, 241, 277-

Pius X, Pope, 282.

Plato, 169, 320.

"Poisoned Gas," 225; use by Jesuits against Mariana, S.J., and la Valette, S.J., 233, seq.; 258.

Poissy, Colloquy of, 33.

Polanco, S.J., Ignatius' Secretary, 56, 170, 188, 243, 259.

Politics, 36, 59; Possevin's political activities, 59; Vieira, 59; Holy See, and Jesuit interference in politics, 60; Hoensbroech and Kaiser, 220; Roothan's declaration, 251; Jesuit political agents, 252, seq.; Clement XIV and Jesuit interference in, 268, 316.

Pollen, S.J., Father J. H. Articles in the "Catholic Encyclopedia," 27 et passim. -

Polotsk, 36, 53.

Pombal, Duke of, 60.

Pontan, S.J., Jacob, (Spanmiiller) 180.

Portillo, S.J., 86.

Possevin, S.J., Anthony, 59, 60, 169, 252.

Poverty, to be loved as "Mother," 102; Jesuit's private purse, 194; Jesuit wastefulness, 194; of "Professed" Fathers, 243; escape from "Evangelical Poverty," 250.

Power, Ignatius' acquisition of, 207; highest point of Jesuit power, 209; sources of, 212, seq.; use made of celebrities, (Fr. Vaughan, SJ.), 216; importance of name, Society of Jesus, 216; sodalities, 216; author's experience, 217; school of Foreign Service at Washington, 218; the "Black Pope's" power at Rome, 219; in Prussia, under Kaiser, 220; Hoensbroech's experience, 220, seq.; in Ireland, 222; Innocent X curbs Jesuit's privileges, 255; "power-complex," 299; cf., "Privileges."

"Practical" Asceticism, 297.

Prison, 33, 99, 100; power to incarcerate delinquent subjects, 254.

Privileges, 32, 109, 246; Order amasses, 253; scope of Jesuit privileges, 254; privileges against subject Jesuits, 254; Innocent X curbs Jesuit privileges, 255.

"Probabilism," 36; General Gonzalez occasions "uproar," by opposing doctrine, 58, 238; Fr. Camargo's protest, 238, 243, 245.

349

Professed Fathers, 28, 31; scandals concerning, 141; their vows of poverty, 243, 250, 288, 289.

Prpspero et Felici Statu, 248.

Psycho-Analysis, 293, 326.

Psychology, 130, 145; abnormalities in Order, 148, seq.; "Ratio," .171, 186; Jesuit Psychology, 271; Jesuit attitude towards Psycho-Analysis, 293, 313, 325, 326, 333.

Ptolemaic System, 79.

Q

"Quarter of Charity," (Lapidatio),

in Noviceship, 114, seq. Queen Christina, 18. Queen Victoria, 220.

R

Rahilly, Prof. Alfred, 198,

Ranke, 57, 109, 166.

Ratio Studiorum, 34; "observatores" among boys, 121, 152, 165; note of arrogance, 167; Jesuit ignorance of "Ratio," 178; old "Ratio" and execution of heretics, 229; witchcraft, 229, 279; cf., Education"

Ravaillac, 18, 233.

Reactions, to repression, incidents, 192, 195; Jesuit hobbies, 196; spiritual eccentricities of W. Doyle, S.J., 199, 203.

Recreation, "compulsory," 290; "free," 290.

Reformation, 206.

Reform, 33, 34; Fr. Pollen, S.J., denies Society ever needed "reform," 268.

Regimin? Militantis, 27.

Renunciation of Property, 92, 243.

Repression, in Order, "vince te-ipsum," maxim, 187; novices and their relations, 188; crushing the will and judgment, 189; friendships, 189; pretence and insincerity as result of, 190; experience in Noviceship, 191; "explosions" as result of excessive repression, 192,

Repression— continued 194; Ignatius and games, 196; "Latin Rule," 197; Jesuit Saints, 198; Fr. "X," as type, 200; reactions to, 204, 219; author's experience, 332.

Retreats* 69, 70; at Colleges, 305.

Rezzonico, Cardinal, 262.

Ribadeneira, S.J., 168, 196, 247.

Ricci, S.J.,. General, 50, 263.

Richelieu, 18, 251.

Richmond Park, London, 274, 278.

Rodriguez, S.J., Father Simon, 23,

29, 33-

Rodriguez, S.J., Saint Alphonsus, 216.

Roothan, S.J., General, 76; "Apologia" for Society of Jesus, 85, 95; on Jesuit education, 170; on Jesuit interference in Politics, 251,

335-

Rosweyde, S.J., 37. Russia, 36, 52, 59.

Sacred Heart Nuns, 135, 216.

Saint Simon, 209.

Salamanca, 23, 166, 207, 239.

Saldanha, Cardinal, 49.

Salmeron, S.J., Father, 23, 29, 33, 272.

Sanchez, S.J., 176.

Savonarola, 19.

Schall, S.J., 21.

Schneiner, S.J., 37.

Scholastics, 28.

Science, Jesuit attitude, 90, 230; "Ratio" and science, 174, seq.; coercion of thought, 175, 228; Ignatius indifference, 185; Harnack and Jesuit Historians, 237; Jesuits uninterested in, 292; 296; author's experience, 332, seq.

Secchi, S. J., 37.

Secrecy, rule of, 86; accusations of Bishop Palafox, 109; in respect of manifestation of conscience, 117.

Sixtus V, Pope, 33, 35, 47, 48, 94, 158, 159, 247, 265, 267.

Index

Smith, S.J., 245, 265.

Sobieski, 18; letter to Jesuit General Oliva, 58.

Social Classes, in Order, 288, 290.

Socrates, 169, 320.

"Soli," 106.

Sollicitudo, 212.

"Speculum," 324.

Spinoza, 174.

Spiritual Coadjutors, 28, 31, 141, 250, 289.

Spiritual Exercises, approval by Pope Paul III, 62; asceticism of, 63; Jesuit monopoly of, 63; first edition, for "Ours," 64; Ignatius holds back the book from public, 64; author's experience of, 64, 70; the "Directorium," 65, 81; Ignatius' indebtedness, 66; divisions of, 66; note of chivalry, 67; the rules it contains, 68; Jesuit novices and exercises, 69; the "Composition of Place," 70, 73; criticism of, 71, 77, 79, 81; technique of, 72; "Hell," 75; applying the senses, 76; "Devil," 78; "Particular Examen," 73; "book-keeping" spirit, 74; "inspiration" of, 74; "indifferentism," 79, 131; exercises and women, 132, 156, 163.

St. George, 206.

Stonyhurst College, 275.

Strassburg School, 169.

Streicher, S.J., 182.

Sturm, John, 169.

Suppression, 31, 35, 49, Si; cf. Clement XIV.

Syllabus, of Pius IX, 241.

Tachard, S.J., 211

Talmud, 42.

"Tertianship," 323; school of perfection, 324; the "Speculum," 324.

Theatines, 33.

Theiner, 53.

Theological Studies, at Milltown Park, S.J., 31?.

Thesaurus SpirituaJis, 152.

Thibet, 18, 38.

"Thinking with the Orthodox Church," rules, 80.

Thorn, 21.

Thucydides, 171.

Tibullus, 21.

Tilly, 21.

Titus Gates, 18.

Tokio, 314.

Tolerance, and Jesuit Theology, 241.

Toletus, S.J., Cardinal, 35, 56.

Trading, Bishop Palafox accuses Jesuits of trading, 210; M. Martin's report, 211; Urban VIII and Clement IX forbid Jesuits to trade, 212, 215; affair of la Valette, S.J., 234 seq.

Trenton, 206, 207.

Trichinopoli, 18, 38.

Tyrannicide, 232, seq.; 242.

Tyrrell, Rev. George, 102, 139, 141, 219, 231, 257, 259; "Letter to the General," 274; early- admiration for Ignatius, 275; career in Jesuit Order, 275 seq.; experiences of reaction and intransigence in Order, 276 seq.; the Jesuitising of the Church, 277; Jesuitism and Protestantism, 278; indictment of Order, 279; view of scandals, 280; his "Letter," compared with Clement XIV's, brief, Dominus ac Redemptor, 281.

"Twelfth Promise," 298.

U

"Uncle Sam," 187. Uniformity, in practices and doctrines, 87, 88. Urban VII, Pope, 269. Urban VIII, Pope, 212, 254, 265.

Van Dyke, Paul, 24, 25, 28, 32, 138,

185, 196, 259. Vatican Council, 277. Vaughan, S.J., Bernard, 215, 220,

223. Venice, 24, 118.

S.J., 59, 60.

Vilna, 37, 59-

Visconti, S.J., General, 165; summons Fr. la Valette to Rome, 235.

Vitelleschi, S.J., General, 56, 57, 252.

Vocations, "touting" for Vocations, 184; Fr. Doyle's book, "Vocations," 199; Tyrrell and "press-gang" system, 278; author's experience, 305.

Voltaire, 18, 183, 287.

von Lang, Heinrich, 140,. 141.

von Loe, Baron, 232.

W

Waldersee, Count, 221.

Wallenstein, 21.

Washington (D. C.), 84, 218, 219, 330.

Wastage, of men in Order, 295 seq.

Watson, Fr. W., 138.

Wealth, 39; Sobieski's letter, 58; author's experience, 60; Fr. Hof-faus report, 209; Mariana and Spanish Jesuits, 209; Palafox letter to Innocent X, 210; in Paraguay, 211; in Austria, 212; Cor-dara's admission, 212; in United States, 212; sources of wealth, 212

Wealth— continued

• seq.; Jesuit explanation, 214;. la Valette affair, 234; Clement XIV and Jesuit "eagerness for earthly goods," 268.

Wernz, S.J., General, 229, 241.

Wiseman, Cardinal, praises spiritual exercises, 67, 68, 75; criticises Jesuits of Farm Street, London, 87.

Wittenberg, 63.

Women, Jesuit attitude towards, 131; those worthy of visits from "Ours," 132; the "Directorium" regards women as "rudes," 132; Retreats for women, 133; rules for visiting women, 133; confessions of, 135; nuns, 135; letters to, 135; spiritual needs of men come first, 136; women of rank favored, 137; best friends of Jesuits, 139; Jesuit "fascination," 139; "mulierculae," 142.

X

"X," Father, a type of Jesuit, 200, 204.

Zelanti, 262.