Richard W. Thompson - The Footprints of the Jesuits

When the attempt was first made to introduce the Jesuits into France the knowledge of their operations elsewhere led to the belief—at all events, the fear—that the society could not exist there without conflicting with the Gallican liberties, and subjecting the French Christians to foreign authority more odious than that of the pope, to whom they had steadily refused the concession of any temporal power over them. They were willing then, as they had always been, to look to the pope for the regulation of all affairs of the Church that concerned religious faith; but it was impossible for them to admit the superior jurisdiction claimed by Loyola without conferring upon him authority and distinction they had denied to the pope, and creating a threatening antagonism to the liberties they had long enjoyed, and which distinguished them from other Roman Catholic populations of Europe. They could readily see that if the Jesuits, under the guidance of an ambitious adventurer like Loyola, were permitted to establish this jurisdiction, it would surely lead to interference by his society with the temporal affairs and interests of the kingdom. Consequently the Gallican Christians, backed by their highest ecclesiastical authorities, sternly resisted the introduction of the Jesuits into France. They could not have done otherwise without a tame and absolute forfeiture of their boasted liberties. As neither Loyola nor his followers had any respect whatsoever for this Christian sentiment, notwithstanding it was maintained with extraordinary unanimity in France, and persisted in the effort to plant the Jesuit society in the midst of it with the view of its extermination, an exciting and angry struggle ensued, in which the Jesuits displayed their habitual disregard of public opinion, and whatsoever else stood in the way of their success. Neither the interests of the French Church, nor the sentiments and wishes of the French people, nor the possibility of imperiling the cause of Christianity, nor any other consideration beside that of their own triumph, weighed the weight of a feather with them when in conflict with their secret plans and purposes.

The Jesuits sought the aid of the pope, and through him that of the king of France, so that by the combined influence of the spiritual and the temporal powers, they might bring to bear upon the French Church and people such pressure as would render them powerless to resist encroachment upon liberties long held in religious veneration. Their manifest object was to center this union of Church and State upon what they considered the only "legitimate authority," with the special view of engrafting upon the faith of the Gallican Christians the principle of "uninquiring obedience" to whatsoever policy should be dictated by the interests of that combination, whether relating to spiritual or temporal affairs. Realizing how readily the pope yielded to the entreaties and influence of Loyola in approving his society, it was doubtless supposed that he would as readily be persuaded to secure the co-operation of the king, whose temporal power would thus be invoked to bring the French Church and people to obey whatsoever the Jesuits should dictate. The scheme was adroitly planned, and displayed, not only the despotic policy of the Jesuits, but their unsurpassed capacity for cunning and intrigue.

During the reign of Henry II, France had become, in a large degree, relieved from the complications in which she had been involved in the lifetime of Francis I, his father, growing out of the protracted controversy in which the Emperor Charles V and the pope both bore conspicuous parts. He was enabled therefore to turn his attention to internal and domestic affairs, which placed him in a condition favorable to the adoption of any methods of procedure that promised to bring society into perfect obedience to monarchical dominion; or, as he, along with Loyola and the Jesuits, regarded it, to "legitimate authority." Loyola could not fail to realize that the occasion was most opportune for him, and therefore availed himself of it with the utmost promptitude, taking advantage of everything seemingly favorable to the ends he desired to accomplish. The Reformation had progressed with astonishing rapidity, and nothing aroused his ambition so much as the hope of arresting its progress; for without the stimulating influence of that object his occupation would have been threatened with a speedy ending, and his society would have expired almost at its birth. This would have caused him to sink down into an inconspicuous position, condemned alike by ecclesiastics and people as a disturber of the public peace.

In addition to what the Reformation had accomplished in Germany—where its defenders had been inspirited by the presence, intrepidity, and eloquence of Luther—its influences had become so extended in France as to alarm all who saw in it the probable loss of power, and the end of those oppressions by which they had so long and successfully maintained their authority. Protestant churches were erected, not only in Paris, but in all the principal cities and in every province of France. Henry II saw all this with intense dissatisfaction, and was therefore in a condition to look favorably upon suggestions from any quarter that would give promise of forcing back the advancing tide of popular enlightenment and Protestant progress. He inherited from his father the most intense malignity toward what he called the "new religion," mainly on account, unquestionably, of its tendency to endanger the absolutism of monarchy. And he also inherited a persecuting spirit, which, by indulgence, had outgrown that of his father. All students of French history are familiar with the chief events of his reign, which caused Henry of Navarre—afterwards Henry IV—Anthony de Bourbon, Louis de Condé, Admiral de Coligny, Francis d'Andelot, and other lords, to unite with the reformers, and place themselves in the lead of the Huguenots. With such accessions as these, the persecuted Protestants of France became formidable in all parts of the country, and Henry II found employment for all his royal resources in contriving methods for their suppression, an object of which he seldom lost sight. Wheresoever Protestantism appeared, the spirit of persecution rose up to extinguish it. An eminent French historian says: "During the reign of Francis I, within the space of twenty-three years, there had been eighty-one executions for heresy. During that of Henry II, twelve years, there were ninety-seven for the same cause; and at one of these executions Henry II was present in person on the space in front of Notre Dame, a spectacle which Francis I had always refused to see." He states also that during the reign of Henry II, and the year before his death, "fifteen capital sentences had been executed in Dauphiny, in Normandy, in Poitou, and at Paris," and that, within that period, the penal legislation against heretics had been greatly increased in severity.46

Francis II was distinguished for nothing so much as for his uncompromising animosity to the Reformation, to all its legitimate fruits, and to those who professed Protestantism. He was entirely under the dominion of the Guises, who were the bloodiest and most unrelenting persecutors in France. To signalize his submission to them, he issued a royal proclamation, which they dictated, for razing to the ground and demolishing the houses in which the Protestants met for religious worship. Protestant assemblages were declared unlawful, and those who attended them were punishable with death, as were also those who sheltered and protected them. In about five months of this merciless reign, "eighteen persons were burned alive for heresy"—that is, for having professed the Protestant religion.47

In this condition France opened a broad and attractive field of operations for the Jesuits. Keeping steadily in view the principal and primary purpose of their organization—the suppression of the Reformation—they must have thirsted for an opportunity to bring their peculiar tactics into practice, not only for the accomplishment of this cherished object, but to reduce the Gallican Christians into such obedience to the papacy as would subject the temporal affairs of France to the dominion of Rome, when they expected to become, through the influence of Loyola over the pope, the chief agents in executing the papal mandates. The Cardinal of Lorraine—one of the Guises—was in full sympathy with them; and as he had been instrumental in dictating the persecuting policy of Henry II and Francis I, he must have rejoiced at the opportunity of obtaining Jesuit assistance in a work so congenial to himself and them. He was "inordinately vain; intensely selfish; an adept in the art of dissimulation, which he used without scruple,"—and these qualities must have commended him to the Jesuits, as they, on account of possessing the same, were doubtless commended to him. That he was ambitious and a special favorite of the pope is indicated by the multiplicity of offices he filled at the same time. Besides being cardinal, he held two archbishoprics, six bishoprics, and was abbot for each of four monasteries.48