Richard W. Thompson - The Footprints of the Jesuits

Events, which deserve somewhat more particularity of detail, occurred also in Spain, at Saragossa, because they explain how the society was trained and disciplined from the beginning, under the inspiration of Loyola's immediate command. "As the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined," is an adage no less applicable to a compact body like the Jesuits than to individuals. Loyola understood this, and lost no time, after he put his society in working order, to teach the members the art of circumventing their adversaries—an art which their successors, so far from forgetting, have improved upon. In this primary lesson he also taught them that they were justified in disregarding any human law that stood in the way of their success; that public opinion in conflict with their interests was entitled to no respect whatsoever; and that by steadfastly adhering to the principle of monarchism, upon which their society rested, they might confidently invoke the aid of monarchs to assure them success in any conflict with the people. And he taught them, moreover, that they were entitled to resist the authorities of the Church when the latter attempted to check their progress. And thus, almost in the infancy of the society, its founder fixed indelibly in the mind of every member the idea of their superiority over every department of society, over all the ancient monastic orders, and over even the Church itself, when its authority was employed to check their progress. All this will appear in the conflict about to be detailed.

The city of Saragossa was the capital of Aragon, where the law prohibited, by strict and explicit provisions, "the erection of a chapel or monastery within a certain distance of an established parish church or religious community." The Jesuits found a place they desired to occupy, but were forbidden to do so by this law, which all others had obeyed, and which the public desired to maintain for satisfactory reasons. The law, however, did not restrain them in the least; and in utter disregard of it, and in open defiance of the public authorities, they asserted the right to take possession of and erect a building upon it for their own uses. They proposed to encroach upon the rights of the Augustinians, when the Franciscans—both being ancient religious orders of monks—united with the former in resisting this threatened violation of public law, which had been, up to that time, universally acquiesced in by both these orders, and by the public as a prudential measure of public policy. But the Jesuits did not consider any law as of the least consequence when it placed obstructions in their path, and, consequently, persisted in their purpose despite the protests of the Augustinians and the Franciscans, all of whom were esteemed by the citizens of Saragossa for their sanctity. The controversy soon assumed such importance that the vicar-general of the Church issued a formal order, in the name and by the authority of the Church, whereby he prohibited the Jesuits from erecting their new building within the forbidden limits. Any other body of men, professing the least respect for the Church and its official representatives, would at least have hesitated after this. But the Jesuits paid no more respect to the ecclesiastical dignity and authority of the vicar-general than they had proposed to show to the existing public law, or to the two protesting monastic orders. The consequence was, that the vicar-general was constrained, in vindication of his authority as the representative of the Church, to denounce the Jesuits as heretics for their flagrant disobedience, and to threaten them with excommunication if they did not desist. He declared them accursed, and hurled the thunders of anathema against them. But the Jesuits, realizing how much strength lay in Loyola's single arm, remained unterrified. These thunders, which had caused even monarchs to quake, were powerless against his commands, which were communicated to his followers by the superior who watched over the interests of the society at Saragossa. The latter ordered the ceremony of consecrating the forbidden ground to proceed, in the face of both the law and the commands of the vicar-general; and the infatuated and disloyal Jesuits obeyed him. This was a new experience to the citizens of the capital of Aragon, who had witnessed nothing like it before, and they became incensed and thoroughly aroused. They took the side of the Augustinians and the Franciscans, and the "priests and religious" who defended them, and proceeded to display their indignation in such public and emphatic manner that it could not be mistaken. The historic statement is that "effigies of the Jesuits being precipitated into hell by legions of devils, were exhibited in the streets, and it was even inculcated among the people that the town was profaned by the presence of the Jesuits, who, it was declared, had brought heresy into it, and that the whole of Saragossa was under excommunication, and would so remain until they left it." This account is substantially given by all who have undertaken to write the history of the Jesuits, but it is taken from Daurignac, one of their ablest defenders, whose language is here quoted. He further explains the estimate in which the Jesuits were held by the people of Saragossa, while obedient to the faith of the Roman Church, in these words: "At length the populace, whose feelings had been thus worked upon, became more violent; and, proceeding to the house of the Jesuits, they threw stones, breaking the panes of glass, and threatening the inmates with their vengeance, while a procession, similar to the one already described, paraded around the ill-fated house, uttering cries of disapprobation, reproach, and condemnation."39

In a matter which involved, as this did, the mere enforcement of a public law universally approved, the duty of the Jesuits was plain and simple, not admitting of any equivocation. Like all others who enjoyed the protection of law, they were bound to obey the public authorities, to which was superadded their obligation to obey also the vicar-general as the official organ of the Church. But the reader should not be so far misled as to suppose that they were influenced by any such idea, or that they were in the least discouraged by the severe ecclesiastical and popular rebuke they received at Saragossa. No man understood better than Loyola what complete control can be obtained over the sentiments, opinions, and conduct of individuals by educational training; and he had taken the precaution so to discipline the novices of his society, from the moment of their initiation, as to make their blind and passive obedience the effectual method of consolidating his influence and authority over them. It is perfectly apparent, from the occurrences at Saragossa, that one of the first lessons they had learned was that form of obedience which required them to disregard and defy any law whatsoever, when commanded by their superiors to do so, without inquiring or caring what consequences might follow, either to the public or to individuals. Consequently, when compelled by the combined influence of the public authorities, those of the Church, and the indignant population of Saragossa, to abandon the erection of their new building upon the forbidden ground, they treated it as mere suspension, and not abandonment, still intending, by some means or other, to overcome this array of adversaries and defeat the execution of the law. With this view they ceased operations, seemingly yielding to the existing necessity. At this point in their history, however, they learned their first lesson in duplicity and deceit—and the sequel proves how well they learned it—by showing that, although apparently discomfited, they did not consider themselves as defeated. Loyola himself was not familiar with defeat, when success depended in any measure upon strategic intrigues with imperial rulers, all of whom fully understood that his society represented the most absolute monarchism then existing in Europe, and on that account, if no other, required them to extend to it every possible degree of protection, especially where, as at Saragossa, the people had taken active steps to require the enforcement of law. He had also prepared for escaping defeat in any matter concerning the Jesuits by fixing in their minds the conviction, as a religious sentiment, that there was no degree of courage so high and commendable as that exhibited by them when their obedience was carried to the extent of resisting whatsoever and whosoever stood in their way when commanded to do so for the interests of the society, which he required them to believe was for "the greater glory of God!" He had taught them to consider this as courage, but it was a misuse of terms so to call it; for, in its rightful sense, courage invokes the best and most ennobling faculties of the mind. Instead of this, the sentiment he inculcated proceeded from that indifference to public opinion and insensibility to shame which, as Bartoli concedes, is a necessary feature of Jesuit education. It is rather to be compared to the animal instinct of the tiger, which, after his coveted victim has once escaped, prompts him to approach it thereafter by stealthy steps, crouching in concealment until the time shall come when the final plunge may be successfully made.