The patronage of the king of Portugal enabled them to enter Portugal without difficulty. This so excited their anticipations of a brilliant and successful future, that they devoted themselves to the acquisition of riches, and fell into such vices as, in that day, almost invariably accompanied success among both clergy and laity. Nicolini says that, after having obtained "immense wealth" in Portugal, they "relaxed in the strictness of their conduct, pursued a life of pleasure and debauchery," until the king "began to frown upon them," and the people to withdraw their respect. They had a college at Coimbra which, according to him, bore very little resemblance to a cloister. Being no longer able, as in Spain, to appeal with confidence to the royal power for protection—as the confidence of the king of Portugal in their Christian integrity had become shaken—Loyola, yet alive, was forced to remove the provincial and rector of the college, out of seeming deference to public opinion. The new rector, by running and screaming through the streets like a madman, and flagellating his naked shoulders until they were covered with blood and dust, so succeeded in arousing the fears and superstition of the Jesuits that they were induced to introduce such reforms in the college as enabled them, in some degree, but not entirely, to regain their influence.42
It is not a little puzzling to those who have not investigated the history and character of the Jesuits, to understand how the immense wealth they acquired in Portugal and elsewhere was obtained, when each member was required to take a vow of "extreme poverty." There is, however, nothing easier for a Jesuit than to satisfy his own mind upon this subject, by aid of the casuistical method of reasoning which enables him to escape this, or any other difficulty. Bartoli, the biographer of Loyola, explains it in a few words. "The vow of poverty," says he, "does not deprive the person who is under trial of the ownership of the property which he previously possessed, nor of the possibility of acquiring more, until he has obtained a fixed and determined position, although he is indeed deprived of the use of his property, and can not, any more than a professed religious, dispose of a single farthing without the consent of his superior."43 And he repeats the same idea at another place, by saying, "The vow of poverty does not preclude the possession of property."44 Uninitiated minds may be embarrassed by this, but it is plain and simple to a Jesuit. He understands that his vow of "extreme poverty" does not require him to part with the property he has, or prohibit him from obtaining more if he can. There is but a single condition attached—that it shall be at the disposal of the superior. And thus, by the help of the casuists, this wonderful society, composed only of those who have solemnly vowed their absolute disdain of wealth, has, at several periods of its history, become the richest in the world, and would be so again if allowed to have its own way. The vow of "extreme poverty" means, therefore, in the minds of Jesuits, splendid palaces, marble churches, magnificent universities, and, in fact, the absorption of as much wealth as can be acquired through every variety of intrigue, by a body of men who boast that they have plucked every human sympathy from their hearts, and look upon all the tenderest relations of society with contempt. No written language furnishes words to convey fully to ordinary minds the Jesuit idea of "extreme poverty." One of the Jesuit fathers, quoted by Bartoli, calls it "a rich poverty," as he also does the bondage of the society "a free slavery."45 By familiarizing ourselves with this wonderfully dexterous use of words, we may soon learn to understand what is meant by white darkness and the blackness of sunlight.
In all the countries of Europe the first impressions with reference to the Jesuits were extremely unfavorable to them, and the most decided among those most conspicuous for devotion to the Church. There was nothing in the life of Loyola to inspire confidence, either in him or in his plan of operations. He was looked upon as an adventurer, who had abandoned a military life only because his person was disfigured by a wound, in order to acquire distinction in some other pursuit. Some of the ecclesiastics—as in the case of Melchior the Dominican—were disposed to rebuke his presumptuousness in assuming sanctity and superiority; while others of them, like the vicar-general at Saragossa and the Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo, considered his teachings as tending to encourage heresy, not only because of their novelty, but because they blasphemously recognized him and all subsequent superiors of the Jesuits as equal to God in both attributes and power. They could not persuade themselves to believe that Christianity required them to recognize Loyola as infallible, whilst the pope, by the existing faith of the Church, remained fallible. Loyola was thus surrounded with embarrassments which would have subdued the courage of almost any other man. He, however, was rather strengthened than weakened by opposition; for he belonged to that class of men who need the excitement of conflict and the spur of necessity to develop their commanding qualities. He had laid his plans well and skillfully, and, with a perfect knowledge of the condition of society, had prepared to derive power from the only sources recognized as possessing it; that is, from the pope as head of the Church, and monarchs as the possessors of absolute dominion. So long as he could avail himself of their united support, he had little or no fear of the people, whom he could readily resist and humiliate as he had done at Saragossa. He soon realized that he could easily brush opposing ecclesiastics out of his way, so long as he could retain monarchism as the leading and central principle of his society; and hence he directed all his efforts to the suppression of the Reformation, and to the continued union of Church and State, so as to give additional strength to monarchism, upon which, as a reserved force, he could fall back whensoever the interests of his society and the exigencies of his affairs required it. Whilst the bulk of society were unable to penetrate his secret purposes and motives, enough transpired, even during the life of Loyola, to excite general suspicion against his own and the integrity of his society, on which account it was that he encountered such formidable opposition to the introduction of his society into Spain, and its loss of influence and reputation in Portugal, both of which States were eminently devoted to the Roman Catholic religion. In obedience to the general rule, that "the same causes produce the same results," the opposition to Loyola and his society became more violent and protracted in France than in either Spain or Portugal. The reason for this may be found in the peculiarity of the Church organization existing there; but from whatsoever cause it may have arisen, the long and tedious controversy which at last secured the admission of the Jesuits into France, is not merely historically instructive, but throws a flood of light upon Jesuit policy and character.
The French Christians had for a long period refused to concede to the pope the right to interfere with the temporal affairs of that kingdom. This attitude was so persistently maintained by them that what they considered their "liberties" came to be generally recognized as the foundation of the French or Gallican Church, as distinguished from the Papal Church at Rome. They regarded themselves under the jurisdiction of the pope in spiritual matters—that is, in so far as religious faith was concerned—but maintained that the domestic policy of France, in the management of her own temporal and internal affairs, could not be so mingled with Christian faith as to confer upon the pope any right to dictate or interfere with that policy. Upon these points there was entire unanimity among them before the time of Loyola, or if any opposing sentiment existed it was too inconsiderable to influence the public judgment.
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