Böhmer-Monod, likewise, in spite of their joint claim to sincerity and lack of bias, are especially denunciatory of the character of the Society at this juncture. "It is no longer," they say, "an autocracy, but a many-headed oligarchy, which defends its rights against the General as jealously as did the Venetian nobles against the doges. The military and monastic spirit has relaxed and a spirit of luxurious idleness and greed of worldly possessions has taken its place. Not only the writings of the enemies of the Jesuits, but the letters of their own Generals go to prove it. Thus, Vitelleschi wrote, in 1617, that the reproach of money-seeking was a universal one against the Society. Nickel also sent a grand circular letter to recall the Order to the observance of Apostolic poverty. Indeed, John Sobieski, a devoted friend of the Order, could not refrain from writing to 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.' But these reproaches made no impression on Oliva who was a sybarite leading an indolent life at the Gesù or in his beautiful villa of Albano. Even if he were the proper kind of man, he would have been powerless, for, in 1661 Goswin Nickel was deposed solely because of his rigidity towards the most influential members of the Order. The Constitution of the Order was changed, for Oliva was made General because he had humored the nepotism of the Pope."
The answer to this formidable arraignment is: – First, the General of the Society cannot be an autocrat. He must rule according to the Constitutions; failing in this, he may be deposed by the general congregation. Secondly, the society can never be ruled by an oligarchy, especially by "an oligarchy with many heads" which is a contradiction in terms. The only oligarchy possible would be the little group around the General known as the assistants, representing the different national or racial sections of the Society. But they are invested with no authority whatever. They are merely counsellors, are elected by the Congregation, and ipso facto lose their office at the death of the General, though of course they hold over until the election of his successor. The metaphor of the Venetian nobles and the doges has no application in the Society of Jesus.
Nor is it true that after Vitelleschi's death, "it lost its monastic spirit" for the simple reason that it never had that spirit. The Jesuits are not monks and their official designation in ecclesiastical documents is Clerici Regulares Societatis Jesu (Clerks, or Clerics, Regular of the Society of Jesus). It is precisely because they broke away from old monastic traditions and methods that they were so long regarded with suspicion by the secular and regular or monastic clergy, especially as the innovation was made at the very time that Martin Luther was furiously assailing monastic orders. If, however, by "the monastic spirit" is meant the religious spirit, and that is possibly the meaning of the writers, it will not be difficult to show that piety and holiness of life had not departed from the Society. For instance, some of the greatest modern ascetic writers appeared just at that time in the Society. Thus, Suárez died in 1617, and Lessius in 1623, both of whom may some day be canonized saints. To the latter, St. Francis de Sales wrote to acknowledge his spiritual indebtedness to the Society. Living at that time also were Bellarmine, Petavius, Nieremberg, Layman, Castro Palao, Surin, Nouet, de la Colombiére, and others equally spiritual. Álvarez de Paz died in 1620, Le Gaudier in 1622, Drexellius in 1630, Louis Lallemant in 1635, Lancisius in 1636, de Ponte in 1644, Saint-Jure in 1657. Meantime, the famous work on "Christian Perfection" by Rodríguez, who died in 1616, had been making its way to every religious house in Christendom. There was also a great number of holy men in the Society at that moment. Had that not been the case, Cardinal Orsini, who died in 1627, would not have asked for admission; nor Charles de Lorraine, Prince Bishop and Count of Verdun, who had entered a few years before; nor would the Pope have made the great Hungarian Pazmany a cardinal in 1616, and Pallavicini in 1659. Blessed Bernardino Realini was not yet dead; St. John Berchmans was living in 1621; and St. Peter Claver died in 1654, before his adviser St. Alphonsus Rodríguez; St. John Francis Regis made his first vows in 1633, and Vitelleschi himself is admitted to have been a man of extraordinary sanctity. A religious order with such members is the reverse of decadent.
The "military spirit" which the Society was reproached with having lost was no doubt the daring "missionary spirit" which won her so much glory in the early days. But it was by no means lost. Andrada made his famous journey to Tibet in 1624; de Rhodes started about 1630 on his famous overland trip from India to Paris, and then set off for Persia where he died; the missionaries of North America were exploring Hudson Bay and the Great Lakes and searching for the Mississippi; those of South America were following the wonderful Vieira through thousands of miles of forests and along endless rivers in Brazil; others were searching the Congo or Gold Coast or Abyssinia for souls; Jerónimo Xavier and de Nobili were in India; others again in Persia and the Isles of Greece; and Ricci and Schall and their companions were converting China. There were martyrdoms all over the world, like those of Brébeuf and his companions in Canada; Jesuits were laying down their lives in Mexico, Paraguay, the Caribbean Islands, the Philippines, Russia, England, Hungary, and above all in Japan, where every member of the Society was either butchered or exiled; while thousands of their brethren in Europe were clamoring to take their places in the pit or at the stake. That condition of things would not seem to connote degeneracy or decadence.
As for the "grand circular letter," which Father Nickel sent out to the whole Society, that document was nothing but an academic disquisition on the relative importance of poverty as against the two other vows. It was not a censure of the Society for its non-observance of poverty. With regard to Sobieski, it is impossible to imagine that he ever uttered such a calumny against his most devoted friends. They had trained him intellectually and spiritually; just before the great battle with the Tatars, he spent the whole night in prayer with his Jesuit confessor, Przeborowski, and in the morning he and all his soldiers knelt to receive the priest's blessing. Finally, when the bloody battle was won, they knelt before the altar, at the feet of the same priest, and intoned a hymn of thanksgiving to God for the glorious victory. When Przeborowski died, Father Vota took his place, and it was he who induced the hero to join the League of Augsburg, thus helping him to win the glory of being regarded as the saviour of Europe, when on September 12, 1683, he drove back the Turks from the gates of Vienna. As Sobieski died in Vota's arms, it is not very likely that he ever regarded his affectionate friends as "greedy and rapacious."
What Böhmer-Monod says regarding Vitelleschi's encyclical to the Society on the occasion of his election is equally unjustifiable. Not only does the General not denounce the Society for its degeneracy, but he explicitly says, "Although I am fully aware that there is still in the body of the Society the same spirit that animated it at the beginning, and moreover, that this spirit not only actually persists, but is conspicuously robust and full of life and vigor; nevertheless, as each one desires to see what he loves absolutely and in every respect perfect, we should all, from the highest to the lowest, strive to the utmost to have it free from the slightest stain or wrinkle. To urge this is the sole purpose of this epistle." Later on he says, "There are three things which help us to conserve this spirit: prayer, persecution and obedience." The second, at least, has never failed the Society.
That there was no such decadence or degeneracy later is placed beyond all possibility of doubt by a man whose integrity cannot for a single moment be questioned: Father John Roothaan, General of the Society, who wrote to all his brethren throughout the world concerning the third century in the life of the Order. Had he made any misstatement, he would have been immediately contradicted. As for his competency in the premises it goes without saying that no one had better means than he for becoming acquainted with the condition of the Society at that period. He testifies as follows:
"When the Society began its third centenary, it was flourishing and vigorous as it always has 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 in 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 part of the world, nor was the commendation awarded them less than the fruit they had gathered; and what is most important, amid the applause they won and the favors 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, 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 odor of Jesus Christ. It waged a bitter war against error and vice; it fought strenuously in defence of Holy Church and the authority of the See of Peter; it displayed a ceaseless vigilance in detecting the new errors which then began to show themselves, and whose object was to overturn the thrones of kings and princes and to revolutionize the world; and it bent every one of its energies of voice, pen, counsel and teaching to refute and as far as possible to destroy those pernicious doctrines. Hence it was sustained and favored by the Sovereign Pontiffs and by the hierarchy of the Church and its authority was held in the highest esteem by princes and people alike. 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."
The characterization of Oliva, by Böhmer-Monod as "a sybarite leading an indolent life at the Gesù or in his beautiful villa at Albano," is nothing else than an outrage. Sybarites do not live till the age of eighty-one; nor are they summoned to fill the office of "Apostolic Preacher" by four successive Popes – Innocent X, Alexander VI, Clement IX, and Clement X; nor do they write huge folios of profound theology; nor do they act as advisers to popes, kings, and princes; nor could they govern fifteen or twenty thousand men scattered all over the world, all of whom looked up to them as saints. Such in fact was this really great man, and falsehood could scarcely go further, than to pillory him in history as a degraded voluptuary. As for his luxurious villa, it will suffice to say that the individual who conceived that idea of a Jesuit country-house, never saw one. It is never luxurious; but always shabby, bare and poor.
The whole available income of the English province at this period (1625-1743) may be found in Foley's "Records" (VII, pt. I, xviii), and is quoted in Guilday's "English Refugees" (I, 156). "The entire revenue in 1645 for colleges, residences, seminaries under their charge, as well as fourteen centres in England and Wales is recorded at something like £3915. This sum maintained 335 persons, which at the present rate of money would be at £34.10 per head. In 1679 after the Orange Rebellion this sum was reduced." What was true of the English province, may also in great measure be predicated of the rest, especially of the one in which the General resided.
Another curious instance of this systematic calumniation is found in the preface of a volume of poems of Urban VIII, edited in 1727 by a professor of Oxford, who was prompted to publish them, we are informed, "because the poems would be an excellent corrective of the obscenity and unbridled licentiousness of the day." But while thus extolling the Pope, this heretical admirer of His Holiness, goes on to say that the Pontiff was particularly beloved by Henry IV, and when that monarch was attacked by an assassin, "the Jesuits, the authors of the execrable deed, were expelled from the kingdom, and a great pillar was erected to perpetuate their infamy. Whereupon Urban, who was then Cardinal Barberini, was sent to France, and induced Henry to destroy the pillar, and recall the Jesuits without inflicting any punishment on them."
For a person of ordinary intelligence, the conclusion would be that Barberini recognized that the Society had been grossly calumniated; if not, he had a curious way of showing his affection for the King by bringing back his deadly enemies and destroying the pillar. The author of this effusion also fails to inform his readers that Pope Urban VIII was a pupil of the Jesuits; that during all his life he was particularly attached to the Order; that one of his first acts after ascending the pontifical throne was to raise Francis Borgia to the ranks of the beatified; that the Jesuit, Cardinal de Lugo, was his particular adviser, and that in the reform of the hymnody of the Breviary, he entrusted the work exclusively to the Jesuits. With regard to the expulsion of the Society from France, Henry IV had no hand in it whatever. That injustice is to be laid to the score of the parliament of Paris over which Henry had no control. Far from being an enemy he was the devoted and affectionate friend of the Society, as well he might be, for it was the influence of the Spanish Jesuit, Cardinal Toletus, that made it possible for him to ascend the throne of France.
Long before his election as General, Oliva had achieved considerable reputation as an orator; and, as his correspondence shows, he was held in the highest esteem by many of the sovereigns of Europe for his wisdom as a counsellor. Unfortunately, however, nearly all the trouble that occurred in his time originated in the courts of kings. Thus in France, Louis XIV made his confessor, Father François Annat, a member of his council on religious affairs, with the result that when the king fell out with the Pope, Annat's position became extremely uncomfortable; but it is to his credit that he effected a reconciliation between the king and the Pontiff. After Annat, François de Lachaise was entrusted with the distribution of the royal patronage, and, of course, stirred up enmity on all sides. In Portugal, Don Pedro insisted upon Father Fernandes being a member of the Cortes; but Oliva peremptorily ordered him to refuse the office. In Spain, the queen made Father Nithard, her confessor, regent of the kingdom, and, German though he was, grand inquisitor and councillor of state. When he resisted, she appealed to the Pope, and the poor man was obliged to accept both appointments. Of course he aroused the opposition of the politicians and resigned. The queen then sent him as ambassador to Rome, and on his arrival there, the Pope made him a cardinal. He wore the purple for eight years and died in 1681. The saintly Father Claude de la Colombiére, the spiritual director of the Blessed Margaret Mary, also enters into the category of "courtier Jesuits." He was sent to England as confessor of the young Duchess of York, Mary Beatrice of Este, and though he led a very austere and secluded life in the palace, he was accused of participation in the famous Titus Oates plot, about which all England went mad; and although there was absolutely no evidence against him, he was kept in jail for a month, and in 1678 was sent back to France.
It was Father Petre's association with James II of England that gave Oliva most trouble. He was not the confessor, but the friend of the king, who had taken him out of the prison to which Titus Oates had consigned him. James wanted to make him grand almoner, and when Oliva protested, Castlemain, the English ambassador at Rome, was ordered to ask the Pope to make him a bishop and a cardinal. When that was prevented an attempt was made to give him a seat in the privy councils. Crétineau-Joly not only questions Petre's sincerity in these various moves, but accused the English provincial of collusion. Pollen, however, who is a later and a better authority, insists that, if we cannot aquit Petre of all blame, it is chiefly because first-hand evidence is deficient. Petre made no effort to defend himself but the king completely exonerated him. The king's evidence, however, counted for nothing in England with his Protestant subjects. The feeling against Petre was intense and William of Orange fomented it for political reasons, and the most extravagant stories were accepted as true; such, for instance, as that the Jesuits were going to take possession of England, or that the heir-apparent was a supposititious infant. Finally, when James fled to France, Petre followed him and remained by his side till the end. "He was not a plotter," says Pollen, "but an easy-going English priest who was almost callous to public opinion." It is perfectly clear that he had nothing to do with the foolish policies of James. On the contrary, he had done everything in his power to thwart them. "Had I followed his advice," James admitted to Louis XIV, "I would have escaped disaster."
A romantic figure appears at this time in the person of John Casimir, who after many adventures ascended the throne of Poland. In spite of the remonstrances of his mother he not only refused to dispute the claim of his elder brother, but espoused his cause, fought loyally for his election and was the first to congratulate him when chosen. He then withdrew from Poland and we find him, first, as an officer in the imperial army, and at the head of a league against France. Afterwards, while in command of a fleet in the Mediterranean, he was driven ashore near Marseilles by a storm; he was recognized and kept in prison for two years, but was finally released at the request of his brother. In passing by Loreto, on his way home, the fancy of becoming a Jesuit seized him. He applied for admission and was received, but left three or four years afterwards, and, though not in orders, was made a cardinal. When the news of his brother's death arrived, he returned the red hat to the Pope and set out for Poland to claim the crown, and simultaneously that of Sweden. The latter pretence, of course, meant war with Gustavus Adolphus, who forthwith invaded Poland, but Casimir drove him out and also expelled the Prussians from Lithuania. Probably on account of the dissensions in his own country which gave him occupation enough, he ceased to urge his rights to the throne of Sweden, and after some futile struggles relinquished that of Poland likewise.
In the Convocation of Warsaw where he pronounced his abdication, he is said to have made the following utterance which sounds like a prophecy but which may have been merely a clever bit of political foresight. "Would to God," he exclaimed "that I were a false prophet, but I foresee great disasters for Poland. The Cossack and the Muscovite will unite with the people who speak their language and will seize the greater part of Lithuania. The frontiers of Greater Poland will be possessed by the House of Brandenburg; and Prussia, either by treaty or force of arms, will invade our territory. In the dismemberment of our country, Austria will not let slip the chance of laying hands on Cracow." John was the last representative of the House of Vasa. He was succeeded by Michael, who reigned only three years (1669-72) and then the great Sobieski was elected after he and his 20,000 Poles had routed an army of 100,000 Tatars – an exploit which made him the country's idol as well as its king.
In becoming General, Oliva inherited the suffering inflicted on the Society by the English persecutions which had been inaugurated by Elizabeth and continued by James I. A lull had occurred during the reign of Charles I, probably because the queen, Henrietta Maria, was a Catholic; and in 1634 there were as many as one hundred and sixty Jesuits in the British dominions; but Cromwell was true to his instincts, and, between the time of the Long Parliament and the Restoration of the Stuarts, twenty-four Catholics died for the Faith. Naturally, the Jesuits came in for their share. Thus Father James Latin was put in jail on August 3, 1643, and was never heard of afterwards. "From which," says O'Reilly, "it is easy to conjecture his fate." William Boyton was one of the victims in a general massacre that took place in 1647, in the Cashel Cathedral; and two years afterwards, John Bathe and Robert Netterville were put to death by the Cromwellians in Drogheda. Bathe was tied to a stake and shot, while Netterville, who was an invalid, was dragged from his bed, beaten with clubs and flung out on the highway. He died four days afterwards.
The Stuarts were restored in 1660, but the easy-going Charles II made no serious effort to erase the laws against Catholics from the statute-book, and from time to time proclamations were issued ordering all priests and Jesuits out of the realm. Two occasions especially furnished pretexts for these expulsions. One was the "Great Plague," and the other was the "Great Fire," for both of which the Jesuits were held responsible. No one knew what was going to happen next, when there appeared in England an individual to whom Crétineau-Joly devotes considerable space, but who receives scant notice from English writers. He announced himself as Hippolyte du Chatelet de Luzancy. He was the son of a French actress, and was under indictment for forgery in his native country; added to these attractions, founded or not, he claimed to be an ex-Jesuit. Of course, he was received with great enthusiasm by the prelates of the Established Church, for he let it be known he was quite willing to accept any religious creed they might present to him. The Government officials also welcomed him. His first exploit was to accuse Father Saint-Germain, the Duchess of York's confessor, of entering his apartment with a drawn dagger and threatening to kill him. Whereupon all England was startled and the House of Lords passed a bill consigning all priests and Jesuits to jail. Saint-Germain was the first victim. Luzancy was then called before the privy council and told a blood curdling story of a great conspiracy that was being hatched on the Continent. It implicated the king and the Duke of York. The story was false on the face of it, but Luzancy was taken under the protection of the Bishop of London; he was given the degree of Master of Arts by Oxford and was installed as the Vicar of Dover Court, Essex. A most unexpected defender of the Society appeared at this juncture in the person of Antoine Arnauld, the fiercest foe of the Jesuits in France. He denounced Luzancy as an imposter, and berated the whole English people for accepting the conspiracy myth. His indignation, however, was not prompted by any love of the Society, but because Luzancy claimed to have lived for a considerable time with the Jansenists and with Arnauld, in particular, at Port-Royal.
It was probably the success achieved by Luzancy that suggested the greater extravagances of Titus Oates. Titus Oates was a minister of the Anglican Establishment, and first signalized himself in association with his father, Samuel, who also wore the cloth, by trumping up an abominable charge against a certain Protestant schoolmaster, for which the father lost his living, and the son was sent to prison for trial. Escaping from jail, Titus became a chaplain on a man-of-war, but was expelled from the navy in a twelve-month. He then succeeded in being appointed Protestant chaplain in the household of the Duke of Norfolk and was thus brought into contact with Catholics. He promptly professed to be converted and was baptized on Ash-Wednesday 1677. The Jesuit provincial was induced to send him to the English College at Valladolid, but the infamous creature was expelled before half a year had passed. Nevertheless, he was granted another trial and was admitted to the Seminary of St. Omers, which soon turned him out of doors.
Coming to London, he took up with Israel Tonge who is described as a "city divine and a man of letters," and together they devised the famous "Popish Plot," each claiming the credit of being its inventor. It proposed: first, to kill "the Black Bastard," a designation of Charles II which they said was in vogue among Catholics. His majesty was to be shot "with silver bullets from jointed carbines." Secondly, two Benedictines were to poison and stab the queen's physician, "with the help," as Titus declared, "of four Irish ruffians who were to be hired by Doctor Fogarthy." The Prince of Orange, the Lord Bishop of Hertford and several minor celebrities were also to be put out of the way. Thirdly, England, Ireland and all the British possessions were to be conquered by the sword and subjected to the Romish obedience. To achieve all this, the Pope, the Society of Jesus and their confederates were to send an Italian bishop to England to proclaim the papal programme. Subsequently, Cardinal Howard was to be papal legate. Father White, the Jesuit provincial, or Oliva, Father General of the Order, would issue commissions to generals, lieutenant generals, naval officers. When the king was duly assassinated, the crown was to be offered to the Duke of York, after he had approved of the murder of his royal brother as well as the massacre of all his Protestant subjects. Whereupon the duke himself was to be killed and the French were to be called in. The Jesuit provincial was to be made Archbishop of Canterbury, and so on.
No more extravagant nonsense could have been conceived by the inhabitants of a madhouse. Nevertheless, "all England," says Macaulay, "was worked up into a frenzy by it. London was placed in a state of siege. Train bands were under arms all night. Preparations were made to barricade the main thoroughfares. Patrols marched up and down the streets, cannon were planted in Whitehall. Every citizen carried a flail, loaded with lead, to brain the popish assassins, and all the jails were filled with papists. Meantime Oates was received in the palaces of the great and hailed everywhere as the saviour of the nation." The result of it all was that sixteen innocent men were sent to the gallows, among them seven Jesuits: William Ireland, John Gavan, William Harcourt, Anthony Turner, Thomas Whitebread, John Fenwick and David Lewis, besides their illustrious pupil, Oliver Plunket, Archbishop of Armagh. As the saintly prelate has been beatified by the Church as a martyr for thus shedding his blood, inferentially one might claim a similar distinction for all his companions. On the list are one Benedictine, one Franciscan and six secular priests. The Earl of Stafford who was sentenced like the rest to be hanged, drawn and quartered was graciously permitted by his majesty to be merely beheaded. For these murders Oates was pensioned for life, but in 1682 Judge Jeffries fined him one hundred thousand pounds for scandalum magnatum and condemned him to be whipped, pilloried, degraded and imprisoned for life. "He has deserved more punishment," said the judge, "than the law can inflict." But when William of Orange came to the throne he pardoned the miscreant and gave him a pension of three hundred pounds.
In his "Popish Plot," Pollock continually insists, by insinuation rather than by direct assertion, that Oates was a novice of the Society. Thus, we are told that he was sent to the "Collegio de los Ingleses at Valladolid to nurse into a Jesuit;" and subsequently "the expelled novice was sent to complete his education at St. Omers." But, in the first place, a "Collegio" at Valladolid or anywhere else can never be a novitiate, for novices are forbidden all collegiate study; secondly, St. Omers in France was a boys' school and nothing else; thirdly, the description of Oates by the Jesuit Father Warner absolutely precludes any possibility of his ever having been admitted as a novice or even as a remotely prospective candidate.
Warner's pen picture merits reproduction. Its general lines are: "Mentis in eo summa stupiditas; lingua balbutiens; sermo e trivio; vox stridula, et cantillans, plorantis quam loquentis similior. Memoria fallax, prius dicta numquam fideliter reddens; frons contracta; oculi parvi et in occiput retracti; facies plana, in medio lancis sive disci instar compressa; prominentibus hic inde genis rubicundus nasus; os in ipso vultus centro, mentum reliquam faciem prope totam æquans; caput vix corporis trunco extans, in pectus declive; reliqua corporis hisce respondentia; monstro quam homini similiora." In English this means that the lovely Oates "was possessed of a mind in which stupidity was supremely conspicuous, a tongue that stuttered in vulgar speech; a voice that was shrill, whining, and more of a moan than an articulate utterance; a faulty memory that could not recall what had been said; a narrow forehead, small eyes, sunk deep in his head; a flat face depressed in the middle like a plate or a dish; a red nose set between puffy cheeks; a mouth so much in the centre of his countenance that the chin was almost as large as the rest of the features; his head bent forward on his chest; and the rest of his body after the same build, making him more of a monster than a man." If the English provincial could for a moment have ever dreamed of admitting such an abortion into the Society, he would have verified his name of Father Strange. On the other hand it was natural for the fanatics of that time to adopt Oates.