IV. CONSPICUOUS PERSONAGES…

IV. CONSPICUOUS PERSONAGES

Ignatius--Laínez--Borgia--Bellarmine--Toletus--Lessius--Maldonado --Suárez--Lugo--Valencia--Petavius--Warsewicz--Nicolai--Possevin --Vieira--Mercurian.

St. Ignatius died on July 31, 1556. During his brief fifteen years as General, he had seen some of his sons distinguishing themselves in one of the greatest councils of the Church; others turning back the tide of Protestantism in Germany and elsewhere; others again, winning a large part of the Orient to the Faith; and still others reorganizing Catholic education throughout regenerated Europe, on a scale that was bewildering both in the multitude of the schools they established and the splendor of their success. Great saints were being produced in the Society and also outside of it through its ministrations. Meantime, its development had been so great that the little group of men which had gathered around him a few years before had grown to a thousand, with a hundred establishments in every part of the world.

Magnificent as was this achievement he did not allow it to reflect any glory upon himself personally. On the contrary, he withdrew more and more from public observation, and devoted to the establishment of his multiplied and usual charities, among the humblest and most abandoned classes of the city of Rome, what time was left him from the absorbing care of directing, advising, exhorting and inspiring his sons who were scattered over the earth in ever changing and dangerous situations. The palaces of the great rarely, if ever, saw him, and he was the most positive and persistent antithesis of what he is so commonly accused of being: a schemer, a plotter, a politician, a poisoner of public morality and the like. Nor was he seeking to exercise a dominating influence either in the Church or State, as he is calumniously charged with doing. The glory of God and the advancement of the spiritual kingdom on earth was his only thought, and so far was he from imagining that the Society was an essential factor in the Church's organization that he did not hesitate to say that if it were utterly destroyed, or as he expressed it, "if it were to dissolve like salt in water," a quarter of an hour's recollection in God would have been sufficient to console him and restore peace to his soul, provided the disaster had not been brought about by his fault.

He was not, as he has often been charged with being, stern, severe, arbitrary, harsh, tyrannical; on the contrary, his manner was most winning and attractive. He was fond of flowers; music had the power of making him forget the greatest bodily pain, and the stars at night filled his soul with rapturous delight. He would listen with infinite patience to the humblest and youngest person, and every measure of importance before being put into execution was submitted to discussion by all who had any concern in it. He would show intense and outspoken indignation, it is true, at flagrant faults and offences, especially if committed by those who were in authority in the Society; his wrath, however, was vented not against the culprit, but against the fault. Moreover, while reprehending, he kept his feelings under absolute control. Indeed, his longanimity in the cases both of Rodriguez and Bobadilla is astounding, and it is very doubtful if St. Francis Xavier, whom he wanted to be his successor, would have been as tolerant or as gentle. In his directions for works to be undertaken he was not meticulous nor minute, but left the widest possible margin for personal initiative; nor would he tolerate an obedience that was prompted by servile fear. He continually insisted that the only motive of action in the Society was love of God and the neighbor.

The gentle Lionel Johnson, poet though he was, gives us a fairly accurate appreciation of the character of Saint Ignatius. "In the Saints of Spain," he says, "there is frequently prominent the feature of chivalry. Even the great Saint James, apostle and Patriarch of Spain, appears in Spanish tradition and to Spanish imagination as an hidalgo, a knight in gleaming mail who spurs his white war horse against the Moor. And of none among them is this more true than of the founder of the Society of Jesus. Cardinal Newman, describing him in his most famous sermon, finds no phrase more fitting than 'the princely patriarch, St. Ignatius, the Saint George of the modern world with his chivalrous lance run through his writhing foe.' He was ever a fighter, a captain-general of men, indomitable, dauntless. The secret of his character lies in his will; in its disciplined strength; its unfailing practicality; its singleness and its power upon other wills. It was hardly a Franciscan sweetness that won to him his followers who from the famous six at Montmartre grew so swiftly into a great band; it was not supremacy of intellect or of utterance; it was not even the witness of his intense devotion and self-denial. It was his unequalled precision and tenacity of purpose; it was his will and its method. But we can detect no trace of that proud personal ambition and imperiousness often ascribed to him. He simply had learned a way of life that was profitable to religion which was all in all to him, and he could not be lukewarm in its service. Noblesse oblige, and a Christian holds a patent from the King of kings. The Jesuit A. M. D. G. was his ruling principle. The former heroic soldier of Spain was still a soldier, a swordsman, a strategist, but in a holy war. His eyes were always turned towards the battle; but he was far from forbidding, harsh, grim. He was tender and stern and like Dante kept his thoughts fixed on the mysteries of good and evil."

His death was in keeping with his life. There was no show, no ostentation, nothing "dramatic" about it, as Henri Joly imagines in his "Psychologie des Saints." There was no solemn gathering of his sons about his bedside, no parting instruction or benediction, as one would have expected from such a remarkable man who had established a religious order upon which the eyes of the world were fixed. He was quite aware that his last hour had come, and he simply told Polanco, his secretary, to go and ask for the Pope's blessing. As the physicians had not said positively that there was any immediate danger, Polanco inquired if he might defer doing so for the moment, as there was something very urgent to be attended to; whereupon the dying Saint made answer: "I would prefer that you should go now, but do as seems best." These were his last words. He left no will and no instructions, and what is, at first, incomprehensible, he did not even ask for Extreme Unction--possibly because he was aware that the physicians disagreed about the seriousness of his malady, and he was unwilling to discredit any of them; possibly, also, he did so in order to illustrate the rule that he laid down for his sons "to show absolute obedience in time of sickness to those who have care of the body." When at last they saw that he was actually dying someone ran for the holy oils, but Ignatius was already in his agony.

For one reason or another, he had not designated the vicar, who, according to the Constitution, was to govern the Society, until a General was regularly elected. Hence, as the condition of the times prevented the assembling of the professed from the various countries of Europe, the fathers who were in Rome elected Laínez. He, therefore, summoned the congregation for Easter, 1557, but it happened just then that Philip II and the Pope were at odds with each other, and no Spaniard was allowed to go to Rome. Because of that, Borgia, Araoz and others sent in a petition for the congregation to meet at Barcelona. This angered the Pope, and he asked Laínez, who put the case before him: "Do you want to join the schism of that heretic Philip?" Nevertheless, when the papal nuncio at Madrid supported the request of the Spanish Jesuits, his holiness relented somewhat, and said he would think of it.

The situation was critical enough with a Pope who was none too friendly, when something very disedifying and embarrassing occurred. The irrepressible Bobadilla who had not only voted for the election of Laínez as vicar, but had served under him for a year, suddenly discovered that the whole previous proceeding was invalid, and he pretended, that, because St. Ignatius had failed to name a vicar, the government of the Society devolved on the general body of the professed. The matter was discussed by the Fathers and he was overruled, but he still persisted and demanded the decision of Carpi, the cardinal protector of the Society. When that official heard the case, he decided against Bobadilla who forthwith appealed to the Pope. This time the Cardinal assigned to investigate was no other than the future St. Pius V. He took in the situation at a glance and dismissed Bobadilla almost with contempt. There was another offender, Cogordan, who does not appear to have objected to Laínez personally but who sent a written communication to his holiness saying that Laínez and some others really wanted to go to Spain, so as to be free from Roman control. This so incensed the Pope that Laínez, though greatly admired by Paul IV, obtained an audience only with the greatest difficulty, and was then ordered to hand over the Constitutions for examination. Fortunately, the same holy Inquisitor was sent, and Cogordan never forgot the lesson he received on that occasion for daring to suggest such a thing about Laínez. In the meantime, Philip had allowed the Spanish Jesuits to go to Rome, and Laínez was elected General on July 2, 1558. As has been said in speaking of Rodriguez, this incident is another illustration of the tremendous difficulty of the task St. Ignatius undertook when he gathered around him those unusually brilliant men, who were accustomed to take part in the diets of the Empire, to be counsellors of princes and kings and even popes. He proposed to make them all, as he said "think the same thing according to the Apostle." He succeeded ultimately.

The splendid work performed by Laínez at the Council of Trent had naturally made him a prominent figure in the Church at that time. Personally, also he was most acceptable to the reigning Pontiff, Paul IV; nevertheless, owing to outside pressure, there was imminent 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. Laínez had to yield, and for a time the Society conformed to the decision, but the Pope soon died, and in the course of a year, his successor, Pius IV, declared the order to be merely the personal wish of his predecessor and not a decree of the Holy See.

During this generalate there were serious troubles in various parts of Europe. Thus, in Spain, when Charles V withdrew into the solitude of Yuste he was very anxious to have as a companion in retirement his friend of many years, Francis Borgia. It was hard to oppose the expressed wish of such a potentate as Charles, but Laínez succeeded, and Borgia continued to exercise his great influence in Spain to protect his brethren in the storm which was then raging against them. There were troubles, also, throughout Italy. A veritable persecution had started in Venice; an attempt was made to alienate St. Charles Borromeo in Milan; in Palermo, the rector of the college was murdered. The General himself had to go to France to face the enemies of the Faith at the famous Colloquy of Poissy; Canisius was continuing his hard fight in Germany; there were the martyrdoms of two Jesuits in India where, as in Brazil, the members of the Society were displaying the sublimest heroism in the prosecution of their perilous missionary work.

Laínez died in 1565, and was succeeded by Francis Borgia, who for many years had been the most conspicuous grandee of Spain. He was Marquis of Lombay, Duke of Gandia, and for three years had filled the office of Viceroy of Catalonia. His intimacy with the Emperor Charles V, apart from his great personal qualities, naturally resulted in having every honor showered upon him. Astrain, in his history of the Society in Spain, notes the difference in the point of view from which the Borgia family is regarded by Spaniards and by other mortals. The former always think of the saintly Francis, the latter see only Alexander VI. It is not surprising, however, for it is one of the weaknesses of humanity to exult in its glories and to be blind to its defects. Francis Borgia was the great-grandson of Alexander on the paternal, and of King Ferdinand on the maternal, side; there are, however, bar sinisters on both descents that are not pleasant to contemplate, and Suau says, "he was unfortunate in his ancestry."

Born on October 28, 1510, Borgia began his studies at Saragossa, interrupting them for a short space to be the page of the Infanta Catarina, daughter of Joanna the Mad. At eighteen, he was one of the brilliant figures of the court of Charles V. At nineteen, he married Eleanor de Castro, who belonged to the highest nobility of Portugal, and at that time he was made Marquis of Lombay. When he was twenty-eight, the famous incident occurred, which has been made the subject of so much oratorical and pictorial exaggeration--his consternation at the sight of the corrupting remains of the beautiful Empress Isabella, and his resolution to abandon the court and the world forever. Astrain in speaking of this event merely says: "he was profoundly moved;" Suau, in his "Histoire de Saint François de Borgia," makes no mention of any perturbation of mind and ascribes Borgia's vocation rather to subsequent events. The Bollandists do not vouch for the story of his consternation, but note that he was the only one who dared to approach the coffin, the others keeping aloof on account of the odor. They add that his biographers make him say: "Enough has been given to worldly princes." As a matter of fact, later on, he willingly accepted the office of major domo to Prince Philip, who was about to marry the Infanta of Portugal. As the King and Queen of Portugal, however, refused to accept him in that capacity, he was simply disgraced in the eyes of all diplomatic Europe and was compelled to keep out of the court of his own sovereign, for three whole years. "This and other serious trials, at that period," says Suau, "probably developed in him the work of sanctification begun at Granada."

Borgia was thirty-six years of age when his wife died in 1546, and he then consulted Father Faber, who happened to be in Spain at the time, about the advisability of entering a religious order. He made the Spiritual Exercises under Oviedo, and determined to enroll himself as one of the members of the Compañía founded by Ignatius, with whom he had been for some time in communication. He was accepted and given three years to settle his worldly concerns. By a special rescript, the Pope allowed him to make his vows of profession immediately. In January, 1550, he was allowed to present himself for ordination to the priesthood whenever he found it feasible. On August 20 of the same year, he obtained the degree of doctor of theology and ten days later, set out for Rome with a small retinue. Accompanying him were nine Jesuits, among whom was Father Araoz, the provincial. In every city he was officially received, the nobility going out to meet him at Rome. He was sumptuously lodged in the Jesuit house, part of which St. Ignatius had fitted up at great expense to do honor to the illustrious guest. Soon, however, it was rumored that he was to be made a cardinal, whereupon he took flight, making all haste for Spain, without any of the splendor or publicity which had surrounded him three months before. His only purpose was to escape observation. Arriving in Spain, he visited Loyola, the birthplace of Ignatius, and then fixed his residence at the hermitage of Oñate, where, after receiving the Emperor's leave, he renounced all his honors and possessions in favor of his son Charles. He was ordained priest on May 23, 1551.

After six months spent in evangelizing the Basques, Borgia was sent to Portugal to put an end to the troubles caused by Simon Rodriguez, but did not reach that country until 1553. Meantime, sad to say, Father Araoz astounded every one by displaying an intense jealousy of Borgia, who had been made independent of all superiors except Ignatius himself, and he demanded that his former friend and benefactor should show himself less in public and give evidence of greater humility. His complaints were incessant, and unfortunately an accidental unpopularity involving the whole Borgia family which just then supervened gave some color to the charges. In the meanwhile the Pope had again insisted on bestowing the cardinalitial honor upon Borgia, and for a moment Nadal, the Commissary General of Spain, was afraid that it might be accepted, not out of any ambition on the part of Francis, but because of his profound reverence for the will of the Sovereign Pontiff, especially as he had not as yet pronounced the simple vow of the professed against the reception of ecclesiastical dignities. Whereupon, Ignatius sent an order for him to make the vow, and from that forward his conscience was at rest on the question of running counter to the desires of the Pope.

In 1554 he was made commissary general in place of Nadal, who had been summoned to Rome to assist Ignatius, now in feeble health. The appointment of Borgia to such a post was most extraordinary for the reason that he had been but such a short time in the Society, and had never been in a subordinate position. The difficulty of his task was augmented by the fact that he had been commissioned to divide the Spanish section of the Society into four distinct provinces, and to assume, in this and other matters the duties and functions of an office which had no defined limitations, and which would inevitably bring him into conflict with other superiors. As a matter of fact, the commissariate was such a clumsy contrivance that it had soon to be done away with.

Araoz had previously been at odds with Nadal, but he found it still more difficult to get along with Borgia. This disedifying antagonism continued for some time, and it is said that the old worldly superiority of the viceroy showed itself occasionally in Borgia. His dictatorial methods of government, his resentment of interference with his plans, even when Nadal spoke to him, showed that he was not yet a Jesuit saint. As if he still possessed unlimited revenues he established no less than twenty new houses; and, when there were not sufficient resources to carry them on, he expected his subjects to live in a penury that was incompatible with general content and fatal to the existence of the institutions. Moreover, his old propensity for great mortifications manifested itself to such an extent that there was danger of the Jesuits under him becoming Carthusian in their mode of life. Indeed, he was of opinion that the old monastic prison and stocks should be introduced into the Society, and he sent a postulatum or petition to that effect to the congregation which elected Laínez. The result was that a spirit of revolt began to manifest itself in Spain, and Nadal, who was temporarily there, was happy when recalled to Rome.

How all this can be reconciled with the admittedly remarkable prudence of St. Ignatius and his profound knowledge of the character of those he had to deal with is difficult to say. Had he perhaps received some divine intimation of what Borgia was yet to be? On the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these isolated instances of impatience, authoritativeness, resentment and the like, naturally attract more attention when seen in one who is possessed of brilliant qualities than they would in any ordinary personage. Moreover, they occurred only in his dealings with Jesuits of the same official standing, and were never remarked when he had to treat with the rank and file who were entrusted to his care and guidance. They were, in any case, faults of judgment and not of perversity of will. Indeed so intent was he on acquiring the virtue of obedience that he fell into a state of almost despondency and distress when he was warned that Ignatius would disapprove of his methods and measures. Finally, he was then only on the way to sanctity; he had not yet achieved it.

It must be confessed, however, that Nadal was not at all pleased with the attitude of Borgia and the other Spanish Jesuits, when the call for the election of a new general was issued. He fancied that it was the beginning of a schism. When, as previously pointed out, Philip II allowed the Spanish delegates to go to the congregation, Borgia, remained in Spain. The fear of the red hat still haunted him. The famous postulatum about the prison and stocks which he sent to the congregation was, of course, promptly rejected. Borgia, however, had other reasons not to go to Rome. Several Spanish cities were up in arms against the Society; he himself was assailed openly in church by Melchior Cano; a book he had written or was accused of having written was condemned by the Inquisition, and he expected momentarily to be arrested; evil things were also said about his character. Unfortunately, Araoz took advantage of all this and began to pen a series of denunciatory letters to the General against Borgia, and, though he was rebuked for them and made public reparation for his offense, he soon relapsed into his customary antagonism. To put an end to it all Laínez summoned Borgia to Rome and conferred on him the honor of assistant. Even that lesson Araoz failed to take to heart.

Francis reached Rome only in 1561. In the following year when Laínez had to attend the re-opened Council of Trent, he made Borgia vicar general, and, when Laínez died at the age of fifty-three in January, 1565, the congregation which was convened in July of that year elected Borgia in his place. At the same time stringent laws were enacted against the hasty multiplication of houses and the inevitable lack of formation which ensued. This was a notice served on the new General to control his zeal in that direction. Borgia instituted novitiates in every province; he circulated the book of Exercises and laid down rules for common life, which on account of the enormous growth of the Society had now become a matter of primary importance. Instead of showing any proneness to the eremitical life or wishing to impose it on the Society, he gave an example of immense and intense activity in public matters. Thus he had much to do with the revision of the Bible, the translation of the "Catechism" of the Council of Trent; the foundation of Propaganda; and, omitting other instances of his administrative ability, when the plague broke out in Rome in 1566, he so successfully organized the financial and medical machinery of the city that two years afterwards, when the plague appeared again, all the public funds were immediately placed in his hands.

The impression that his administration was severe, exacting, harsh and narrow has no foundation in fact. It is sufficient to glance at the five bulky volumes made up mainly of correspondence and documents in the "Monumenta Borgiana" to be convinced that the reverse was the case. There is a kindliness, a graciousness, even a joyousness observable in them on every page. He even kept a list of all the sick in the Society, and consoled them whenever the opportunity offered. The vastness of his correspondence is simply astounding; his letters are addressed to all kinds of people, the lowest as well as the highest, and deal with every variety of topic. Finally, there was no General who developed the missions of the Society so widely and so solidly as did St. Francis Borgia. He reformed those of India and the Far East, created those of America, and before he died he had the consolation of knowing that sixty-six of his sons had been martyred for the Faith during his Generalate. The discovery of him by St. Ignatius was an inspiration, for Borgia is one of the great glories of the Society. He ended his remarkable life by a splendid act of obedience to the Pope and of devotion to the Church.

On June 27, 1571, St. Pius V, his intimate friend, requested him to accompany Cardinal Bonelli on an embassy to Spain and Portugal. He was just then recovering from a serious illness, and felt quite sure that the journey would result in his death, but he accepted the call. In Spain he was received with the wildest enthusiasm. Indeed the papal legate was almost forgotten in the public ovations. Portugal also lavished honors on him, and when in consequence of new orders from the Pope the embassy continued on to France to plead with Charles IX and Catherine de' Medici, he was received in the same manner in that country. On February 25 he left Blois but by the time Lyons was reached he had been stricken with congestion of the lungs. From Lyons, the route led across the snow-clad Mt. Cenis and continued by the way of Turin to Alexandria, where they arrived on April 19.

As the invalid was in too perilous a state to permit of his going any further for the moment, his relative, the Duke of Ferrara, kept him through the summer until September 3, when another start was made for Rome, where he wanted to die. The last stage of his journey inflicted untold suffering on him, but he never complained. On September 28, he arrived at the professed house in Rome, and throngs of cardinals and prelates hurried to see him to get his blessing, for he was already canonized in the popular mind. For two days he lingered, retaining full consciousness, conversing at times with those around him, but most of the time absorbed in prayer. When asked to name his vicar he laughed and said: "I have enough to do to give an account of my own stewardship." Towards evening he became speechless and about midnight peacefully expired, ending a career which it would be hard to equal in romance--a gorgeous grandee of Spain, a duke, a viceroy, the affectionate friend of the greatest potentate on earth, and now dying in the poor room of a Jesuit priest, atoning by his splendid sanctity for the offenses which have made the name of the family to which he belonged a synonym of every kind of iniquity.

Following close upon St. Francis Borgia came a number of men who have reflected glory upon the Church and on the Society, some of them, the most illustrious theologians of modern times, and others acting as the diplomatic agents of the great nations of Europe in the tentative but usually unsuccessful efforts to reunite Christendom. We refer to Bellarmine, Toletus, Suárez, Petavius, Possevin and Vieira.

Speaking of Bellarmine, Andrew White, in his "Conflict of Science and Religion" informs us that "there must have been a strain of Scotch in Bellarmine, because of his name, Robert,"--a typical illustration of the unreliability of Andrew White as a witness. The first Robert who appears in Scottish history is the son of William the Conqueror, and consequently a Norman. Even the name of Robert Bruce frequently occurs as Robert de Bruce, just as there is a John de Baliol; Robert de Pynkeny, etc. There is also a Robert of Arbrissel, associated with Urban II in preaching the Crusades; Robert of Geneva, an antipope; Robert de Luzarches, who had to do with the building of Notre-Dame in Paris, and scores of others might be cited.

Robert Bellarmine was born at Montepulciano, in 1542. He was a nephew of Pope Marcellus II, and after entering the Society was immediately admitted to his vows. He studied philosophy for three years at the Roman College and was then assigned to teach humanities. In 1567 he began his theology at Padua, but towards the end of his course, he went to Louvain to study the prevailing heresies of the day at close range. While there, his reputation as a preacher was such that Protestants came from England and Germany to hear him. In 1576 he was recalled to Rome to fill the recently established chair of controversy, and the lectures which he gave at that time form the groundwork for his remarkable work "De controversiis." It was found to be so comprehensive, conclusive and convincing in its character that special chairs were established in Protestant countries to refute it. It still remains a classic. Singularly enough, though Sixtus V had permitted the work to be dedicated to him, he determined later to put it on the Index, because it gave only an indirect power to the Holy See in temporal matters. But he died before carrying out his threat, and his successor, Gregory XIII, gave a special approbation to the book and appointed its author a member of the commission to revise the Vulgate, which Sixtus had inaugurated, but into which certain faults had crept. At Bellarmine's suggestion the revision was called the "Sixtine edition" to save the reputation of the deceased Pontiff.

He was rector of the Roman College in 1592, and in 1595 provincial of Naples. In 1597 he was made theologian of Pope Clement VIII, examiner of bishops, consultor of the Holy Office, cardinal in 1599, and assessor of the Congregation "de Auxiliis," which had been instituted to settle the dispute between the Thomists and Molinists on the question of the conciliation of the operation of Divine grace with man's free will. Bellarmine wanted the decision withheld, but the Pope differed from him, though afterwards he adopted the suggestion. He had, meantime, been consecrated Archbishop of Capua, by the Pope, and was twice in danger of being raised to the papacy. He remained only three years at Capua, and passed the rest of his life in Rome as chief theological adviser of the Holy See. During this period occurred the dispute between Venice and the Holy See in which Bellarmine and Baronius opposed the pretensions of Paolo Sarpi and Marsiglio, the champions of the Republic. The English oath of allegiance also came up for consideration at that time. In this controversy Bellarmine found himself in conflict with James I of England. He was conspicuous also in the Galileo matter. His life was so remarkable for its holiness that the cause of his beatification was several times introduced, but was not then acted on, because his name was connected with the doctrine of papal authority, which was extremely obnoxious to the French regalist politicians. It has, however, been recently re-introduced.

When Baius, the theological dean of Louvain, first broached his errors on grace, he was answered by Bellarmine; and in 1579 when he again defended them, he was taken in hand by Toletus, who, after refuting him, induced him to acknowledge his heresy before the united faculties of the university. Unlike Bellarmine, who was of noble blood and the nephew of a Pope, Toletus came of very humble people in Spain. Rosa says he was one of the "new Christians," that is, of Jewish or Moorish blood. He was born at Córdova in 1532 and was, consequently, ten years older than his friend and fellow-Jesuit, Bellarmine. He made his studies at Salamanca, where his master, the famous Soto, described him as an intellectual prodigy; he must have been such, for he occupied a chair of philosophy when he was fifteen. He entered the Society in 1558, and was sent to Rome as professor of theology. He was appointed theologian and preacher of Pius V, Gregory XIII, Sixtus V and Urban VIII, successively. He accompanied Cardinal Commendone in his diplomatic visit to Germany, to form a league against the Turks, just as Bellarmine had been deputed to go with Gaetano to France during the Huguenot troubles. He was made a cardinal in 1593, and in 1595 he induced Pope Clement to grant Henry IV the absolution that brought peace to France. He warned the Pontiff that a refusal in that case would be a grievous sin. Shortly afterwards he was named legate to that country, but, as he had offended his fellow-countrymen by showing himself hostile to Philip II in the matter of the succession of Henry IV, it was considered advisable to send someone else in his stead. He died in the following year, and that gave occasion to the now discredited historian, d'Etoile, to say that the Spaniards had poisoned him.

The writings of Toletus are very numerous. Bossuet was a great admirer of his "Instructions to Priests," in which, as in his "Commentaries," his enemies discovered the "lax" principles of probabilism, ultra-montanism, and the like, and he has been accused of teaching even perjury, simony and regicide. He was the preacher and theologian of four of the Popes, the counsellor of princes, and the great defender of the Faith in the northern countries. Cabassut, one of the most learned of the French Oratorians in the reign of Louis XIV, declared that we should have to wait for several centuries before a man would appear who would equal Cardinal Toletus. Tanner says that his life could not have been more useful or better employed for Jesus Christ if he travelled over the whole earth preaching the Gospel. Gregory XIII indignantly denounced what he called the lies of those who assailed his character. "We set against those calumnies our own testimony," he wrote, "and we affirm in all truthfulness that he is incontestably the most learned man living to-day; we have a greater opinion still of his integrity and his irreproachable life. We have had personal proofs of both. We know him perfectly and we testify to what we know. We beg of your Highness to give full and entire faith to the truth and to the sincerity of our testimony, and to regard this man henceforward as a true servant of Jesus Christ, and marvellously useful to the whole Christian world." These words were uttered before Toletus was clothed with the purple. He will appear again at the election of Aquaviva.

Very angry at the punishment he had received at the hands of Bellarmine and Toletus, Baius turned on Lessius, who was then teaching in the Jesuit College at Louvain, where, acting on misinformation, the university condemned thirty-four propositions which Baius ascribed to him. Lessius declared that they were not his, but the university refused to accept his word. Baius, therefore, continued his denunciation of Lessius in particular and of the Jesuits in general as Lutherans and heretics. Whereupon, not only the other universities but the whole country took up the quarrel. When the question was ultimately referred to the Pope, he replied that he himself had taught the same doctrine as Lessius. Besides being one of the very great theologians of the Society, Lessius was remarkable for the holiness of his life. Pope Urban VIII, who made such stringent laws about canonization, and who knew Lessius personally, paid a special tribute to his sanctity. He is now like Bellarmine ranked among the venerable, and the process of his beatification is proceeding.

Another great Jesuit theologian of this period was the Spaniard, Juan Maldonado, who was born in 1533 at Casas de Reina, about sixty-six leagues from Madrid. He went to the University of Salamanca, where he studied Latin under two blind professors. He took up Greek with El Pinciano, philosophy with Toletus, and theology with Soto. He was endowed with a prodigious memory and never forgot anything he had ever learned. His aspirations were at first for law, but he turned to theology; and after obtaining the doctorate, taught theology, philosophy and Greek at the university. He entered the Society in 1562, and was ordained priest in the following year. He lectured on Aristotle in the new College of Clermont in 1564, and then taught theology for the four following years; after an interruption of a year, he continued his courses until 1576. His lectures attracted such crowds that at times the college courtyard was substituted for the hall. He was appointed a member of the commission for revising the Septuagint; his knowledge of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldaic and Arabic and his comprehensive knowledge of history, of the early Fathers and of all the heresies, gave him the first rank among the Scriptural exegetes of his time. In Cornely's opinion, his "Commentaries on the Gospels" are the best ever published. Above all, he was a man of eminent sanctity, endowed with an extraordinary instinct for orthodoxy, and an unflinching courage in fighting for the Church as long as he had life. "His constant desire," says Prat, "was to make everything the Society undertook, bear the mark of the greatness and sanctity which St. Ignatius had stamped on the Institute."

There was also the great Suárez, who was born at Granada in 1548, and became a Jesuit in 1564. Pope Paul V appointed him to answer King James of England and wanted to retain him in the Holy City, but Philip II claimed him for Coimbra to give prestige to the university. When he visited Barcelona the doctors of the university went out to meet him processionally to pay him honor. Bossuet declared that his writings contained the whole of Scholastic theology. In Scholasticism he founded a school of his own, and modified Molinism by his system of Congruism. His book, "De defensione fidei," was burned in London by royal command, and was prohibited as containing doctrines against the power of sovereigns. One edition of his works consisted of twenty-three and another of twenty-eight volumes in folio. De Scoraille has written an admirable biography of this great man.

Cardinal de Lugo also should be included in this catalogue; indeed he is one of the most eminent theologians of modern times. His precocity as a child was almost preternatural, he was reading books when he was three years old and was tonsured at ten; at fourteen, he defended a public thesis in philosophy, and about the same time he was appointed to an ecclesiastical benefice by Philip II. He studied law at the University of Salamanca, but soon followed his brother into the Society. After teaching philosophy at Medina del Campo and theology at Valladolid, he was summoned to Rome to be professor of theology. His lectures were circulated all over Europe before they were printed, and only when ordered by superiors did he put them in book form. Between 1633 and 1640 he published four volumes which cover the whole field of dogmatic theology. Their characteristic is that there is little, if any, repetition of what other writers had already said. St. Alphonsus Liguori rated him as only just below St. Thomas Aquinas; and Benedict XIV styles him "a light of the Church." He was made a cardinal in 1643.

The distinguished Father Lehmkuhl appropriates four long columns in "The Catholic Encyclopedia" to express his admiration for Gregory de Valencia who was born in 1541 and died in 1603. He came from Medina in Spain and was studying philosophy and jurisprudence in Salamanca, when attracted by the preaching of Father Ramírez, he entered the novitiate and had the privilege of being trained by Baltasar Álvarez, who was one of the spiritual directors of St. Teresa. St. Francis Borgia called him to Rome, where he taught philosophy with such distinction that all North Germany and Poland petitioned for his appointment to their universities. He was assigned to Dillingen, and two years afterwards to Ingolstadt, where he taught for twenty-four years. His "Commentary" in four volumes on the "Summa theologica" of St. Thomas is one of the first comprehensive theological works of the Society. He contributed about eight polemical treatises to the war on Lutheranism, which was then at white heat; but he was not at one with his friend von Spee in the matter of witchcraft. Von Spee wanted both courts and trials abolished; Gregory thought their severity might be tempered. He had much to do with the change of view in moral theology on the subject of usury; and the two last volumes of his great work, the "Analysis fidei catholicæ" culminates in a proof of papal infallibility which expresses almost literally the definition of the Vatican Council.

In 1589 he was summoned to Rome to take part in the great theological battle on grace. The task assigned to him was to prove the orthodoxy of Molina, which he did so effectively and with such consummate skill that both friend and foe awarded him the palm. But the battle was not over, for it was charged that isolated statements taken from Molina's book contradicted St. Augustine. Consequently all of St. Augustine's works had to be examined; a scrutiny which of course called for endless and crushing labor, but he set himself to the task so energetically that when the debates were resumed his health was shattered, and he was allowed to remain seated during the discussions. Thomas de Lemos was his antagonist at this stage. In the ninth session, Gregory's strength gave way and he fainted in his chair. His enemies said it was because the Pope had reproached him with tampering with St. Augustine's text, but as his holiness had decorated him with the title of "Doctor doctorum," the accusation must be put in the same category as the other which charged the Jesuits with poisoning Clement VIII so as to prevent him from condemning their doctrine.

According to the "Biographie universelle," Denis Pétau, or Petavius, was one of the most distinguished savants of his time. He was born at Orléans, August 21, 1583, and there made his early studies. Later he went to Paris, and at the end of his philosophical course defended his thesis in Greek. He took no recreation, but haunted the Royal Library, and amused himself collecting ancient manuscripts. It was while making these researches, that he met the famous Casaubon, who urged him to prepare an edition of the works of Synesius. While engaged at this work, he was chosen for the chair of philosophy at Bourges, though he was then only nineteen years old. As soon as he was ordained to the priesthood, he was made canon of the cathedral of his native city. There he met Father Fronton du Duc and entered the Society. After his novitiate, he was sent to the University of Pont-à-Mousson for a course of theology. He then taught rhetoric at La Flèche, and from there went to Paris. His health gave way at this time, and he occupied himself in preparing some of the works which Casaubon had formerly advised him to publish. In 1621, he succeeded Fronton du Duc as professor of positive theology, and continued at the post for twenty-two years with ever increasing distinction.

Pétau's leisure moments were given to deciphering old manuscripts and studying history. Every year saw some new book from his hands; meanwhile, his vast correspondence and his replies to his critics involved an immense amount of other labor. Though naturally of a mild disposition, his controversies unfortunately assumed the harsh and vituperative tone of the period. It was the accepted method. His great work on chronology appeared in 1627 and won universal applause; Philip IV of Spain offered him the chair of history in Madrid, but he refused it on the score of health. In 1637 he dedicated to Pope Urban VIII a "Paraphrase of the Psalms in Greek verse," for which he was invited to Rome, but he escaped the honor on the plea of age. As a matter of fact, he was so frightened at the prospect of being made a cardinal that he fell dangerously ill, and recovered only when assured that his name was removed from the list. He stopped teaching in 1644, only eight years before his death. The complete list of his books fills twenty-five columns in Sommervogel's catalogue of Jesuit publications. They are concerned with chronology, history, polemics, and the history of dogma. His "Dogmata theologica" is incomplete, not having been carried beyond the fifth volume.

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. Thus, we find Father Warsewicz sent to Sweden in 1574 to strengthen the resolution of the king of that country, who, under the influence of his Catholic queen, was desirous of restoring the nation to the Faith. Warsewicz appeared in the court of King John, not as representing the Pope, but as the ambassador of the King of Poland, who was related to Queen Catherine. It was she who had suggested this means of approaching the king. Accordingly, private meetings were held with the monarch during an entire week, for five and six hours consecutively, for John prided himself on his theological erudition. He agreed to re-establish Catholicity in his realm, provided the chalice was granted to the laity and that marriage of the clergy and the substitution of Swedish for Latin in the liturgy were permitted. He had no difficulty about the doctrinal teaching of the Church.

The king's conditions were, of course, unacceptable, and in 1576 Father Nicolai was sent to see if he could induce him to modify his demand. According to the "Realencyclopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche" and Böhmer-Monod, Nicolai represented himself as a Lutheran minister, and taught in Protestant seminaries. The "Realencyclopädie" adds, "he almost succeeded in smuggling in what was virtually a Romish liturgy." But in the first place, this "liturgy" was not "smuggled in" by the Jesuit or anyone else. It was imposed by the king, and was in use until his death which occurred seventeen years later, (The Catholic Encyclopedia). Secondly, Nicolai could not have been posing as a minister, for he let it be known that he had studied in Louvain, Cologne, and Douay, which were Catholic seminaries. It is true that he did not declare he was a Jesuit; but it is surely possible to be a Catholic without being a Jesuit. It is more than likely that the school was a sort of union seminary, which was striving to arrive at conciliation, for, according to the king, what kept the two sections apart was merely a matter of ecclesiastical usage. Finally, the Confession of Augsburg was not admitted in Sweden as the religion of the State until 1593. Had Nicolai advocated Luther's doctrines either in the pulpit or the professor's chair, he would have been instantaneously expelled from the Society.

The next Jesuit who appeared in Sweden was Anthony Possevin, an Italian of Mantua, who was born either in 1533 or 1534. He began his career as the secretary of Cardinal Ercole Gonzaga, and became a Jesuit at the age of twenty-five. He accomplished much in France as a preacher and founder of colleges; and in 1573 was made secretary of the Society under Mercurian. In 1577 he was sent as 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 of the mission made it very objectionable to the Jesuits because of their possible reaction on the whole Society. But as the order came from the Pope, and as the conversion of the king and of all Sweden was the predominating idea of the mission, the attempt was made in spite of its possible consequence.

Like his predecessor, he did not appear in his clerical garb, nor even as the legate of the Pope. That would scarcely be tolerated in a Protestant country like Sweden, but he came as the ambassador extraordinary of the Empress of Germany, the widow of Maximilian II. With him were two other Jesuits--Good, an Englishman, and Fournier, a Frenchman. Crétineau-Joly makes Good an Irishman, but the English "Menology" for July 5 says he was born at Glastonbury in Somersetshire, and was one of the first Englishmen admitted to the Society. After his noviceship he was sent to Ireland, where he labored for four years under the Archbishop of Armagh. He then accompanied Possevin to Sweden and Poland, and after passing four years in the latter country, died at Naples in 1586.

When Possevin had finished discussing the political situation with the king, he began his work as ambassador of the Lord. He had many private interviews with his majesty, and convinced him of his errors in matters of faith; but the king insisted on points of discipline and liturgy which could not be granted. In brief, he was a Catholic, but reasons of State prevented him from making any public declaration. However, on May 16, 1578, he decided to take the step, and an altar was erected in a room of his palace. There he assisted at Mass, and in the presence of the queen, the Governor of Stockholm and his secretary, declared himself a Catholic. But he still hesitated about making it known to his people, and begged Possevin to return to Rome to see if he could not obtain the dispensation already asked for,--such as Communion under both kinds, Mass in Swedish, the marriage of priests, which Possevin knew would never be granted. However, he set out for Rome with seven young converts, and sent two Jesuits to Stockholm as preachers. He also got others ready in Austria, Poland, and Moravia, and made arrangements with the Emperor Rudolph to give his daughter in marriage to King John's son, Sigismund. He finally reached Rome, but the congregation of Cardinals, of course, rejected the king's pusillanimous petition.

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, the Rothschilds of those days, who had figured so conspicuously in the question of Indulgences in Luther's time. From there he proceeded to Prague to deliver a message to the Emperor; and at Vilna he conferred with Bathori, the King of Poland. A Swedish frigate waited for him at Dantzig and, after a fourteen days' voyage, he landed at Stockholm on July 26, 1579. He was no longer dressed as a layman, but went to the court in his Jesuit cassock and was received with great ceremony by the dignitaries of the realm.

Meantime, however, the king's brother and sister-in-law had aroused the Lutherans; the Swedish bishops were banded against him, and finally, when the king learned that none of his demands had been granted, except that of keeping the confiscated ecclesiastical property, he lost courage and reverted to Protestantism. The assurance given him by Possevin that he could rely on the help of Spain, of the Emperor, and of the Catholic princes of Germany did not move him. He saw before him the revolt of his subjects, and the accession of his brother; and, while insisting that he was a Catholic at heart, he refused to act, unless the Pope granted all his demands. On February 19 he convoked a Diet at Wadstena, at which Possevin was present, but as the majority was clearly against returning to the old Faith, the legate had to be satisfied with being merely an onlooker, while the king, convinced that he was acting against his conscience, yielded to the popular clamor. Another Diet was held with the same result. Meantime, the legate remained in Stockholm, devoting himself to the sick and dying, in a pestilence that was then devastating the city. He also succeeded in so strengthening the faith of the young Sigismund, the heir apparent, that when there was question subsequently of his renouncing Catholicity in order to ascend the throne, he had the courage to say that he would relinquish all his rights and withdraw into private life, rather than abandon the Faith.

A much more curious exercise of diplomacy came in Possevin's way in the quarrel between the King of Poland and the ruler of Muscovy. The latter had made vast conquests in the East, and then turned his attention to Livonia, which was Polish territory. Bathori, who was ruler of Poland, met and conquered the invader in a series of successful battles. Whereupon the Czar, knowing Bathori's devotion to the Holy See, asked the Sovereign Pontiff, Gregory XIII, to intervene. Possevin was again called upon, and set out as plenipotentiary to arrange peace between the two nations. Incidentally, the intention of the Pope was to obtain the toleration of Catholics in the Russian dominions, to secure a safe passage for missionaries to China through Russia, to induce the Czar to unite with the Christian princes against the Turks, and even to bring about a union of the Greek and Latin churches.

Possevin arrived at Vilna in 1581. He found Bathori elated by his victories, but in no humor to entertain proposals of peace, which he wisely judged to be merely a device of his opponent to gain time. However, he yielded to persuasion, and Possevin set out to find the Russian sovereign at Staritza. He was received with all the honors due to an ambassador, and succeeded in gaining a suspension of hostilities, the surrender of Livonia to Poland, as well as the agreement to the demands of the Pope for religious toleration, and the passage across Russia to China for Catholic missionaries. Even the proposal to join the crusade against the Turks was accepted, in the hope that it would put Constantinople in the hands of Russia. But when the question of the union of Churches was mooted, which, of course, implied the recognition of the Pope as Supreme Pastor, the savage awoke in the Czar, and, for a moment, it seemed as if the life of the ambassador was at stake. The treaty of peace was finally signed on January 15, 1582, the delegates meeting in the chapel, where the ambassador celebrated Mass; all the representatives of Poland and Russia kissing the cross as a declaration of their fidelity to their oath. Possevin and his associates then started for Rome towards the end of April. They were loaded with presents from the Czar; but to the amazement of the barbarians, they distributed them among the poor of the city.

There was, however, an appendix to this mission. Though the Polish king did all in his power to preserve the Faith in Livonia, the German Lutherans, Calvinists, Baptists, and other heretics had already invaded the country, and were inflaming the population with hatred of the Pope and the Church. Added to this was the alarm awakened in the mind of the Emperor of Germany at the growing power of the Poles. Again Possevin had to return to the scenes of his labors, but this time it was more as a priest than a diplomat. Indeed, much of his energy was expended in proving that he was neither German nor Pole, but an ambassador of Christ sent to build up the Faith of both nations against heresy. We hear of him once more in the matter of the reconciliation of Henry IV of France to the Holy See. To him and Toletus was due the credit of inducing the Pope to absolve the king, and by so doing, save France from schism. When this was done, Possevin became an ordinary Jesuit, laboring here and there, exclusively for the salvation of souls. It is a curious story, and it would be hard to find anything like it in the chronicles of the Church, except, perhaps the career of the famous Portuguese Jesuit, Antonio Vieira, surnamed by his fellow-countrymen, "the Great."

Vieira was born in Lisbon, on February 5, 1608, and died at Bahia, in Brazil, on July 18, 1697. He was virtually a Brazilian, for he went out to the colony when still a child, and after finishing his studies in the Jesuit college there, entered the Society in 1623, when he was only fifteen years of age. At eighteen, he was teaching rhetoric and writing commentaries on the Canticle of Canticles, the tragedies of Seneca, and the "Metamorphoses" of Ovid, but it was twelve years before he was raised to the priesthood. The eloquence of his first sermon astounded everyone.

In 1640 Portugal declared its independence from Spain, to which it had been subject for sixty years. As the union had been effected by fraud and force, and as all the former Portuguese possessions in the East and a part of Brazil had been wrested from Spain by the Dutch and English; and as the taxes imposed on Portugal were excessively onerous, there was a strong feeling of hatred for the Spaniards. This hostility broke out finally in a revolution, and John IV ascended the throne of Portugal, but the change of government involved the country in a disastrous war of twenty years' duration.

Before the outbreak, the Jesuits were solemnly warned by their Superiors to observe a rigid neutrality. But in the excited state of the public mind, Father Freire forgot the injunction, and, in an Advent sermon in the year 1637, let words escape him that set the country ablaze. Crétineau-Joly says "the provincial promptly imprisoned him," which probably meant that he was kept in his room, for there are no prisons in Jesuit houses. But even that seclusion produced a popular tumult. The provincial was besieged by protests, and a delegation was even sent to Madrid to protest that the words of the preacher had been misinterpreted. The Spanish king accepted the explanation, and when the envoys returned to Lisbon, Freire had been already liberated.

Ranke asserts in his "History of the Popes" that as there was question of establishing a republic in Portugal at that time, it is possible that Spain preferred to see the innocuous John of Braganza, whose son was a dissolute wretch, made king, than to run the risk of a republic like those projected at that time by the Calvinists in France and by the Lutherans in Sweden. Later, however, an investigation was ordered, and a Jesuit named Correa was incarcerated for having predicted at a college reception given to John of Braganza some years earlier that he would one day wear the crown. Meantime the explosion took place, and in 1640 John of Braganza was proclaimed king of an independent Portugal.

In the following year Vieira arrived from Brazil and was not only made tutor to the Infante, Don Pedro, as well as court preacher, but was appointed member of the royal council. In the last-named office he reorganized the departments of the army and navy, gave a new impetus to commerce, urged the foundation of a national bank, and the organization 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 Montes Claros.

Between 1646 and 1650 he went on diplomatic missions to Paris, the Hague, London, and Rome, but refused the title of ambassador and also the offer of a bishopric. He wanted something else, namely, to work among his Indians, and he returned to Brazil in 1652. There he provoked the wrath of the slave-owners by his denunciation of their ill-treatment of the negroes and Indians, and was soon back in Lisbon pleading the cause of the victims. He won his case, and, in 1655, we find him once more at his missionary labors in Brazil, evangelizing the cannibals, translating the catechism into their idioms, travelling over steep mountain ranges and paddling hundreds of miles on the Amazon and its numberless tributaries. Eleven times he visited every mission post on the Maranhon, which meant twenty journeys along the interminable South American rivers, on some of which he had to keep at the oar for a month at a time. It is estimated that he made 15,000 leagues on foot, and advanced 600 leagues farther into the interior of the continent than any of his predecessors. He continued this work till 1661, and then the slave-owners rose against him with greater fury than ever, and sent him a prisoner to Lisbon. He was no longer as welcome at court as previously, for the degenerate Alfonso, who had to be subsequently deposed, was on the throne. In 1665 the Inquisition forbade him to preach, and flung him into a dungeon, where he lay till 1667, when he was released by the new king Pedro II. He then went to Rome, and was welcomed by the Pope, the cardinals, and the General of the Order, Father Oliva.

While at Rome he met Christina of Sweden, who had abdicated her throne in order to become a Catholic. Ranke, in his "History of the Popes," devotes a whole chapter to this extraordinary woman, and she is referred to here merely because of her admiration for Vieira, and also to call attention to the fact that the first priest she spoke to about her conversion was the Jesuit, Antonio Macedo, who was the confessor of Pinto Pereira, the Portuguese ambassador to Sweden. The "Menology" tells us that Macedo did not wear his priestly dress in that country. He was the ambassador's secretary and interpreter, but he attracted the attention of the queen, who remembered no doubt that the Jesuit, Possevin, had appeared in the same court, in the time of John III, disguised as an officer. She finally asked Macedo about it, and he admitted that he was a Jesuit. Then began a series of conversations in Latin, which Christina spoke perfectly, as she did several other languages. She finally told him that she had resolved to become a Catholic, even if she forfeited her crown, and she commissioned him to inform the Sovereign Pontiff of her purpose. To reward Macedo she asked the Pope to make him a bishop, but as he had been a missionary in Africa, the mitre did not appeal to him, and he went back to Lisbon, where he died after sixty-seven years passed in the Society.

Macedo's departure from Stockholm was so sudden that it excited comment, and possibly to persuade the public she had nothing to do with it, the queen pretended to despatch messengers in pursuit of him. In fact, she had requested the General of the Society to send some of the most trusted members of the Order to Sweden. It may be that the old African missionary, Macedo, was not skillful enough in elucidating some of the metaphysical problems which she was discussing. "In February, 1652," says Ranke, "the Jesuits who had been asked for arrived in Stockholm. They were two young men who represented themselves to be Italian noblemen engaged in travel, and in this character they were admitted to her table." They were Fathers Cavati and Molenia, who were able mathematicians as well as theologians. Descartes also was there about that time. The queen did not recognize the young noblemen in public, but, says Ranke: "as they were walking before her to the dining-hall, she said, in a low voice to one of them: 'Perhaps you have letters for me.' Without turning his head he replied that he had. Then, with a quick word, she bade him keep silence. On the following morning they were conducted secretly to the palace. Thus," continues Ranke, "to the royal dwelling of Gustavus Adolphus there now came ambassadors from Rome for the purpose of holding conferences with his daughter about joining the Catholic Church. The charm of this affair for Christina was principally the conviction that no one had the slightest suspicion about her proceedings."

The conferences seem to have been long drawn out, although the envoys subsequently reported that "Her Majesty apprehended with most ready penetration the whole force of the arguments we laid before her. Otherwise we should have consumed much time. Suddenly she appeared to abandon every desire to carry out her purpose, and attributed her doubts to the assaults of Satan. Her spiritual advisers were in despair, when just as suddenly she exclaimed: 'There is no use. I must resign my crown.'" The abdication was made with great solemnity amid the tears and protests of her subjects. She left her country and spent the rest of her life in Rome, where her unusual intellectual abilities and great learning excited the wonder of everyone. Her heroism in sacrificing her kingdom was, of course, the chief subject of the praise that was showered upon her.

When Vieira arrived in Rome and fascinated everyone by his extraordinary eloquence, Christina wanted him to be her spiritual director. But the old hero preferred ruder work, and by 1681 he was again back in Brazil among his Indians. Even in his old age he was a storm centre, and although he had done so much for the glory of God and the good of humanity, he was deprived of both active and passive voice in the Society, that is to say, he could neither vote for any measures of administration or be eligible to any office, because he was supposed to have canvassed a provincial congregation. It was only after he had expired, at the age of ninety, that his innocence was established. His knowledge of scripture, theology, history, and literature was stupendous, and he is said to have been familiar with the language of six of the native races. Southey, in his "History of Brazil," calls him one of the greatest statesmen of his country. He was a patriot, whose one dream was to see Portugal the standard-bearer of Christianity in the Old and New Worlds. As an orator he was one of the world's masters, and as a prose writer the greatest that Portugal has every produced. His sermons alone fill fifteen volumes, and there are many of his manuscripts to be found in the British Museum, the National Library of Paris, and elsewhere.

When St. Francis Borgia, the third General of the Society, died in 1572, his most likely successor was Polanco, who had been the secretary of St. Ignatius, and was generally credited with having absorbed the genuine spirit of St. Ignatius. Had he been elected, he would have been the fourth successive Spanish General. It would have been a misfortune at that time, and would have fastened on the members of the Society the name which was already given to them in some parts of Europe: "the Spanish priests," a designation that would have been an implicit denial of the catholicity of the Order, even though the Spanish monarch was "His Catholic Majesty."

Their devoted friend, Pope Gregory XIII, saw the danger and determined to avert it. Fortunately, he had just been asked by Philip of Spain, Sebastian of Portugal, and the cardinal inquisitor not to allow the election of Polanco, who was of Jewish descent. The Pope determined to go further and to exclude any Spaniard from the office, for the time being. At the customary visit of the delegates, prior to the election, he intimated that as there had been three successive Spanish Generals, it might be wise, in view of the world-wide expansion of the Society, to elect someone of another nationality, and he suggested Mercurian. Doubtless his words found a ready response in the hearts of many of those to whom they were addressed, and even most of the Spaniards must have seen the wisdom of the change. A remonstrance, however, was respectfully made that His Holiness was thus withdrawing from the Society its right of freedom of election, to which the Pope made answer that such was not his intention; but in case a Spaniard was chosen he would like to be told who he was, before the public announcement was made. As the Pope's word is law, the Spaniards were excluded as candidates, and apparently, as a measure of conciliation, Everard de Mercoeur, or Mercurian, was elected. As his native country, Belgium, was then subject to Spain, the blow thus given to the Spaniards was, to a certain extent, softened. But it was the beginning of trouble which at one time almost threatened the Society with destruction. Fortunately, Mercurian's successor, Aquaviva, had to deal with it when it came.

Mercurian had as yet done nothing great enough to attract public attention; but he evidently enjoyed the unqualified esteem of the Pope. In the Society itself he had filled many important posts such as vice-præpositus of the professed house in Rome, rector of the new college of Perugia, visitor and provincial of Flanders and France, and assistant of Francis Borgia. And in all of these charges he was said to have reproduced in his government the living image of St. Ignatius. A man with such a reputation was invaluable, especially for the spiritual life of the Society, and that is of infinitely greater importance than outward show. There is one thing for which the Order is especially very grateful to him namely, the "Summary of the Constitutions," and the "Common Rules" and the rules for each office, which he drew up at the beginning of his administration. This digest is read every month in the refectory of every Jesuit house and selections from it form the basis of the domestic exhortations given twice a month to the communities by the rector or spiritual father. By this means the character and purpose of the Institute is kept continually before the eyes of every Jesuit, from the youngest novice to the oldest professed, and they are made to see plainly that there is nothing cryptic or esoteric in the government of the Society. Hence, when the priest, after his ordination, goes through what is called his third year of probation, in which the study of the Institute constitutes a large part of his work, nothing really new is presented to him. It is familiar matter studied more profoundly.

There were other great men whose names might be mentioned here, but they will appear later in the course of this history.

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V. THE ENGLISH MISSION

Conditions after Henry VIII--Allen--Persons--Campion--Entrance into England--Kingsley's Caricature--Thomas Pounde--Stephens-- Capture and death of Campion--Other Martyrs--Southwell, Walpole --Jesuits in Ireland and Scotland--The English Succession-- Dissensions--The Archpriest Blackwell--The Appellants--The Bye-Plot--Accession of James I--The Gunpowder Plot--Garnet, Gerard.

When Dr Allen suggested to Father Mercurian to send Jesuits to the English mission, Claudius Aquaviva came forward as an enthusiastic advocate of the undertaking, and was one of the first to volunteer. He was not, however, accepted, because evidently only English-speaking priests would be of any use there. But his election as General shortly after gave new courage to Campion and his companions when they were in the thick of the fight.

Dr Allen had left England in 1561, and taken refuge in Belgium, but he returned in the following year, and went around among the persecuted Catholics, exhorting them to be steadfast in their Faith. He found that the people were not Protestants by choice, and he was convinced that all they needed was an organized body of trained men to look after their spiritual needs, to comfort them in their trials, and to keep them well-instructed in their religion. Because of the lack of such help they were not only becoming indifferent, but were almost ready to compromise with their persecutors. Henry had confiscated ninety colleges, two thousand three hundred and fourteen chantries and free chapels and ten hospitals, besides putting to death seventy-six priests and monks, beginning with Fisher, the Bishop of Rochester, as well as a great number of others, gentle and simple, conspicuous among whom was the illustrious chancellor, Thomas More. There was a partial cessation of persecution when Edward VI, a boy, was placed on the throne, and, of course, the conditions changed completely when Mary Tudor came to her own. But when the terrible Elizabeth, infuriated by her excommunication, took the reins of government in her hands, no one was safe. Unfortunately, however, in the interval, the people had become used to the situation, and it began to be a common thing for them to resort to all sorts of subterfuges, even going to Protestant churches to conceal their Faith. Hence, there was great danger that, in the very near future, Catholicity would completely die out in England. Allen proposed to Father Mercurian to employ the Society to avert that disaster.

Some of the General's consultors balked at the project because it implied an absolutely novel condition of missionary life. There were none of the community helps, such as were available even in the Indies and in Japan; for, in England, the priest would have to go about as a peddler, or a soldier, or a sailor, or the like, mingling with all sorts of people, in all sorts of surroundings, and would thus be in danger of losing his religious spirit. The obvious reply was that if a man neglected what helps were at hand he would no doubt be in danger of losing his vocation, but that otherwise God would provide. Allen had already founded a missionary house at Douai in 1568, and its success may be estimated from the fact that one hundred and sixty priests, most of them from the secular clergy, who had been trained there, were martyred for the Faith. He had succeeded also in obtaining another establishment in Rome. In 1578, however, when the occupants of Douai were expelled, they were lodged at Rheims in the house of the Jesuits. Meantime, the Roman foundation had been entrusted to the Society; and with these two sources of supplies now at his disposal, Father Mercurian determined to begin the great work.

The most conspicuous figure in this heroic enterprise was Edmund Campion. He was born in London, and after the usual training in a grammar school was sent to Christ's Hospital. There he towered head and shoulders over everyone; and when Queen Mary made her solemn entry into London, it was he who made an address of welcome to her at St. Paul's School. With the queen on that occasion was her sister Elizabeth. Later, when Sir Thomas White founded St. John's College, Oxford, Campion was made a junior fellow there, and "for twelve years," says "The Catholic Encyclopedia," "he was the idol of Oxford, and was followed and imitated as no man ever was in an English University except himself and Newman." The "Dictionary of National Biography" goes further and informs us that "he was so greatly admired for his grace of eloquence that young men imitated not only his phrases but his gait, and revered him as a second Cicero." He was chosen to deliver the oration at the re-interment of Amy Robsart, the murdered wife of Robert Dudley, afterwards Earl of Leicester. The funeral discourse on the founder of the college was also assigned to him. In 1566 when Queen Elizabeth visited Oxford, Campion welcomed her in the name of the University, and was defender in a Latin disputation held in presence of her majesty. The queen expressed her admiration of his eloquence and commended him particularly to Dudley for advancement.

Father Persons assures us that "Campion was always a Catholic at heart, and utterly condemned all the form and substance of the new religion. Yet the sugared words of the great folk, especially the queen, joined with pregnant hopes of speedy and great preferment, so enticed him that he knew not which way to turn." While in this state of mind, he was induced by Cheyney, the Bishop of Gloucester, who had retained much of the ancient Faith, to accept deacon's orders and to pronounce the oath of supremacy, but the reproaches of a friend opened his eyes to his sin; and in anguish of soul, he abandoned all his collegiate honors. In August, 1569, he set out for Ireland. The reason for going there was to participate in a movement for resurrecting the old papal University of Dublin, the direction of which was to be entrusted largely to him. The scheme, however, fell through, chiefly on account of Campion, but very much to his credit. His papistry was too open. Meantime, he had written a "History of Ireland" based chiefly on Giraldus Cambrensis, which has ever since strongly prejudiced Irish people against him, notwithstanding his sanctity. But his good name has recently been restored by the distinguished Jesuit historian, Father Edmund Hogan, who tells us, that when Campion fled from Dublin to escape arrest for being a Catholic his manuscript fell into the hands of his pursuers who garbled and mutilated it at pleasure. He himself never published the book.

It will be of interest to students of literature to learn that one of Shakespeare's most famous passages was borrowed from this "History," namely, the description of Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII. Whole passages have been worked into the play. As Campion wrote it in 1569, when Shakespeare was only four or five years old, its authorship is beyond dispute. Conditions finally became so unpleasant in Dublin that he was obliged to take to flight. He left Ireland disguised as a serving-man and reached London, in time to witness the execution of Dr. Storey in June, 1571. That completed the work of his conversion, and he went to Douai, where after a recantation of his heresy, he resumed his course of scholastic theology; a year later, he set out for Rome as a penniless pilgrim, arriving there barefooted and in rags, much to the amazement of one of his former Oxford admirers, who met him on the street.

He was received into the Society by Father Mercurian, and made his novitiate at Prague in Bohemia, where he was ordained in 1578. He was one of the first group of missionaries who left the Continent for England under the guidance of Persons. In the party were Dr. Goldwell, Bishop of Saint Asaph, thirteen secular priests, three Jesuits: Persons, Campion and Ralph Emerson, a lay-brother, besides two young men not in orders. Goldwell had been consecrated as early as 1555 and had accompanied Cardinal Pole to England; he was England's sole representative at the Council of Trent. He was now on his way again to his native country, but he fell ill at Rheims and, according to the "Dictionary of National Biography," was recalled by the Pope. "This," says Dr. Guilday (English Refugees, p. 125), "was a disappointment to Persons. The presence of a bishop in England had been a condition of the Jesuits' taking up the burden of converting lapsed Catholics, and despite all the rebuffs the demand for a hierarchy met at Rome, the Jesuits themselves continually renewed it." These words of the distinguished historian who is the most recent witness in the matter of the archipresbyterate are invaluable testimony on a sorely controverted point.

The missionaries left Rome on foot, and passing through Milan were detained for a week by St. Charles Borromeo, who made Campion discourse every day to the episcopal household on some theological topic. From there they directed their steps to Geneva and were bold enough to visit Theodore Beza in his own house, but he refused to discuss religious matters. At Rheims Campion spoke to the students on the glory of martyrdom. Finally he and Persons arrived at Calais, and made their plans to cross the Channel; the other missionaries had meantime scattered along the coast, as it would have been manifestly unsafe for all to embark at the same place. Persons went aboard the boat disguised as a naval officer, and on stepping ashore at Dover presented himself with supreme audacity to the port warden or governor, and asked for a permit for his friend "Patrick," a merchant who was waiting on the other side for leave to cross. "Patrick" was Campion. He had used that name when escaping from Ireland, and as it had stood him in good stead then, he again assumed it.

Campion, however, did not play his part as well as Persons, for the governor eyed him intently and said: "You are Doctor Allen." "Indeed, I am not," replied Campion. "Well, you are a suspicious character, at all events, and your case must be looked into." A council was accordingly held, and it was decided to send the new-comer to London, under an armed escort. Campion thought himself lost, but up in his heart arose a prayer: "O Lord, let me work at least one year for my country, and then do with me what Thou wilt." Immediately a change came over the Governor's face, and, to the amazement of everyone, he said: "I was mistaken; you can go." Full of gratitude to God, the future martyr made all haste for London, where someone was on the look-out for him, and he soon met Father Persons.

Such are the plain facts taken from the writings of Campion to his superiors, describing his arrival in England. But the public mind had to be debauched on this as on every other point concerning the Jesuits, even at the expense of the man whom Oxford is still proud of as a scholar and a gentleman, who was called by Cecil "one of the diamonds of England," and whose grace and beauty and eloquence made him the favorite of Dudley and Elizabeth. In spite of all that, however, Kingsley, in his "Westward Ho" (chap. iii), describes Campion at this juncture of his life as "a grotesque dwarf whose sword, getting between his spindle shanks, gave him, at times, the appearance of having three legs, and figuring sometimes as a tail when it stuck out behind. He was so small that he could only scratch at the ribs of his horse which he was trying to mount on the wrong side, but he finally succeeded in gaining his seat by the help of a stool." He also wore "a tonsure," we are informed, "cut by apostolic scissors," and Londoner though he was, he is made to speak of his countrymen as "Islanders." Persons also is described as a blustering, blaspheming bully, who gives himself absolution for his own transgressions. All this is omitted, however, from the school edition of "Westward Ho."

Persons and Campion set to work immediately, and soon managed to call a meeting of the priests who were in hiding in various places of the country. The purpose of the summons was to let them know that the newcomers had received the most stringent orders from their superiors to keep absolutely aloof from anything savoring of politics. At Hoxton, Campion made a written statement to that effect; and it was there that he received a visit from one of the most interesting, and, to some extent, the oddest of the English missionaries--a man who was made a Jesuit by letter--the famous Thomas Pounde.

Pounde had begun by being a very conspicuous fop at the court of Queen Elizabeth. He was a favorite of the queen, and had, on one occasion, prepared a splendid pageant at which her majesty was present. One of its features was a dance, a pas seul by himself. However, as luck would have it, he stumbled and fell right at the queen's feet. The accident was ridiculous enough to humiliate him, but when his gracious sovereign honored him with a brutal kick, and called out scoffingly: "Get up, Sir Ox," Pounde arose, indeed, but not as an ox. He was a changed man. Up to that, though a Catholic, he had put his religion aside altogether. Now, he openly proclaimed his Faith and exhorted others to do the same. The result was that he was confined in almost every dungeon of the kingdom. He was loaded with fetters and shut up in cells where no ray of light could penetrate; and when liberated, either through the influence of friends, or because he had served the appointed term, he was incarcerated again. Everywhere and at all times he preached the truths of the Faith, not only in a courageous, but in an extraordinarily joyous fashion to his fellow-prisoners, or to people outside the jail, making converts of many and inducing others to amend their lives. Of the latter class was a certain Thomas Cottam, an Oxford man, who, thanks to his friend Pounde, not only became very devout, but, after he had succeeded in getting to the Continent, became a Jesuit and returning later was martyred at Tyburn on May 30, 1582.

A chance reading of the Jesuit missions in India had quite captivated Pounde, as well as a friend of his, named Thomas Stephens, who used to go around disguised as Pounde's servant. They determined to make for the Continent and to ask for admission to the Society. On the way, Pounde was captured because he had stopped too long in trying to convert a Protestant who had given him shelter; Stephens, however, reached Rome and was admitted to the Society. But instead of being sent back to England, as one would have fancied, his longing for India was satisfied, and we find him in Goa, on October 24, 1579. He was there known as Padre Estevão, or Estevan, or again as Padre Busten, Buston, or de Buston, the latter names being so many Portuguese efforts to pronounce Bulstan, in Wiltshire, England, where Stephens was born about 1549. As we see from the dates, he had then reached the age of 30. He is mentioned in Hakluyt's "Voyages" as the first Englishman who ever went to India. Hakluyt's information came from a series of letters which Stephens wrote to his father, "offering the strongest inducements to London merchants to embark on Indian speculations." These letters bore such evidence of sound commercial knowledge that they are regarded as having suggested the formation of the English East India Company.

Father Stephens spent his first five years as minister of the professed house at Goa, and was then sent to Salsette as rector, and, for a time, was socius to the visitor. After that he spent thirty-five years as a missionary among the Brahmin Catholics of Salsette, but his labors in that field did not prevent him from doing a great deal of hard literary work. Thus, he was the first to make a scientific study of Canarese. He also plunged into Hindustani, and wrote grammars and books of devotion in those languages. Most of his writings, however, were lost at the time of the Suppression of the Society. He died in Goa in 1619. (The Catholic Encyclopedia, XIV, 292.)

Pounde's Jesuit work was quite different from that of Stephens. Not being able to present himself in person to the General, he asked by letter to be received into the Order. It was on December 1, 1578, while he was imprisoned in the Tower that an answer came from Father Mercurian granting his request. That encouraged him to labor more strenuously than ever, and for thirty years he kept on defying the Government. Lingard gives one notable instance of his audacity, though the great historian does not seem to be aware that Pounde was a Jesuit. In the proceedings connected with the Gunpowder Plot, someone was sentenced for harboring a Jesuit. Pounde appeared in court to protest against the ruling of the judge, with the result that he himself was arrested. He was condemned to have one of his ears cut off, to go to prison for life, and to pay a fine of a thousand pounds, if he did not tell who advised him to act as he did. He did not lose his ear; while he was in the Tower the queen, Anne of Denmark, interceded in his behalf. Her loving husband, however, King James I, told her: "never to open her mouth again in favor of a Catholic." Finally he got off by standing a whole day in the pillory, an experience which he probably enjoyed, for in spite of dungeons and chains and loss of property and his own terrible austerity--he often scourged himself to blood--he never lost his spirit of fun. He ended his wonderful career on March 5, 1615, at the age of 76, at Belmont, breathing his last in the room in which he was born.

When Campion was caught on his way to Lancashire and brought to London, where he was stretched on the rack and interrogated again and again while being tortured, the story was circulated that he had, at last, not only recanted, but had revealed secrets of the confessional. Pounde was in a fury about it, and wrote Campion an indignant letter, but he found out that it was one of the usual tricks of the English Government. The same villainy had been practised by Elizabeth's father on More and Fisher, but like them, Campion was too true a man to yield to suffering. On August 31, by order of the queen, bruised as he was and almost dismembered by the long and repeated rackings, he was led with Sherwin to a public disputation in the royal presence. Against them were Nowell and Day, two of the doughtiest champions of heresy that could be found in the kingdom. The dispute lasted for four hours in the morning and four in the afternoon--the intention being to keep it up for days. It was during this debate that the listeners saw with horror, as Campion stretched out his arms to emphasize his words by a gesture, that the nails had been torn off the fingers of both hands. The public discussions ended after the second session, for Nowell and Day had been completely beaten. What happened in the examinations held after that, behind closed doors, the authorities never let the world know, but it leaked out that Campion had made many converts among those who came to hear him. One of them was Arundel, who subsequently died for his faith on the scaffold.

On November 14 the Jesuits, Campion and Thomas Cottam, with Ralph Sherwin, Bosgrave, Rhiston, Luke Kirby, Robert Johnson and Orton, secular priests, were called for trial. They all pleaded innocent of felony and rebellion. "How could we be conspirators?" Campion asked, "we eight men never met before; and some of us have never seen each other." On November 16, six others were cited. It was on this occasion that Campion answered the question: "Do you believe Elizabeth to be the lawful queen?" "I told it to herself," he said, "in the castle of the Duke of Leicester." Thither he had been called for a private interview, and Elizabeth recognized him as the Oxford man and the little lad of Christ Church, who, not then dreaming of the terrible future in store for him, had paid the homage of respectful and perhaps affectionate loyalty to her majesty. At that meeting were Leicester, the Earl of Bedford, two secretaries of state and the queen. As the prosecution was so weak and the defense made by Campion was so unassailable, everyone expected an acquittal, but to their amazement, a verdict of guilty was brought in. "The trial," says Hallam, "was as unfairly conducted and supported by as slender evidence as can be found in our books." (Constitutional History of England, I, 146.)

When the presiding judge asked the accused if they had anything to say, Campion replied: "The only thing that we have now to say is that if our religion makes us traitors we are worthy to be condemned, but otherwise we are and have been as true subjects as ever the queen had. In condemning us, you condemn all your own ancestors, all that was once the glory of England, the Island of Saints, and the most devoted child of the See of St. Peter. For what have we taught, however you may qualify it with the odious name of treason, that they did not uniformly teach? To be condemned along with those who were the glory not of England alone but of the whole world by their degenerate descendants is both glory and gladness to us. God lives; posterity will live, and their judgment is not so liable to corruption as that of those who are now going to condemn us to death." When the sentence was uttered, Campion lifting up his voice intoned the "Te Deum laudamus" in which the others joined, following with the anthem "Hæc est dies quam fecit Dominus, exultemus et lætemur in ea" (This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and exult in it.) There were conversions in the courtroom that day.

The scene at the scaffold on December 1, was characterized by the brutality of savages. The victims were placed on hurdles and dragged through the streets to Tyburn. Campion was the first to mount the fatal cart, and when the rope was put about his neck and he was addressing the crowd that thronged around, Knowles interrupted him with, "Stop your preaching and confess yourself a traitor." To which Campion replied, "If it be a crime to be a Catholic, I am a traitor." He continued to speak, but the cart was drawn from under him and he was left dangling in the air. Before he breathed his last he was cut down, his heart was torn out and the hangman holding it aloft in his bloody hand, cried out, "Behold the heart of a traitor!" and flung it into the fire. Alexander Briant and Ralph Sherwin then met the same fate. Previous to this gruesome tragedy, 4,000 people had been won back to the Faith.

Thomas Cottam and William Lacey were the next English martyrs of the Society. The latter calls for special mention. He was a Yorkshire gentleman, who for some time thought that he could, with a safe conscience, frequent Protestant places of worship, but as soon as he was made aware that it was forbidden, he desisted; and fines and vexations of all kinds failed to change his resolution. Becoming a widower, he determined in spite of his years to consecrate himself to God, and having met Dr. Allen at Rheims, he went to Rome, where, after his theological studies he was ordained a priest, and returning to England labored strenuously to revive the faith of his fellow-countrymen. He succeeded even in entering a jail in York where a number of priests were confined, and afforded them whatever help he could. As he was leaving, he was arrested and was executed a month later, August 22, 1582. Father Possoz, S. J., the author of "Edmond Campion," says "there is no mention of Lacy, either in Tanner or Alegambe, but I found, in the catalogue of Rayssius, 'Gulielmus Lacæus, sacerdos romanus qui in carcere constitutus, in Societatem Jesu fuit receptus.'" The same is true of Thomas Methame who did not die on the scaffold, but after seventeen years of captivity in various prisons, gave up the ghost at Wisbech in 1592 at the age of sixty. He was remarkable for his profound knowledge both of history and theology. There also appears on the list an O'Mahoney (John Cornelius), who was a ward of the Countess of Arundel. He was thrown into the Marshalsea, where Father Henry Garnet admitted him to make his vows. He won his crown at Dorchester on July 4, 1594. His name is not found in the "Fasti Breviores" or the "Menology," but it is given by Possoz.

The poet Robert Southwell was martyred on February 21, 1595. Writing about him, Thurston calls attention to an interesting coincidence in his life. His grandfather, Sir Richard Southwell, a prominent courtier in the reign of Henry VIII, had brought the poet Henry Howard to the block, and yet Divine providence made their respective grandsons, Robert Southwell and Philip, Earl of Arundel, devoted friends and fellow-prisoners for the Faith. The poetry, however, had shifted to the Southwell side, for, unlike his friend, Arundel did not cultivate the muse. Southwell had been a pupil of the great Lessius at Louvain, and had made the "grand act" in philosophy at the age of seventeen. At Paris he applied for admission to the Society, but was refused, and his grief on that occasion elicited the first poetical effusion of his of which we have any knowledge. Two years later, however, he was accepted; he was ordained in 1584, and became prefect of studies in the English College at Rome. In 1586 he was sent to England, and passed under the name of Cotton. Two years later he was made chaplain of the Countess of Arundel, and thus came into relationship with her imprisoned husband, Philip, the ancestor of the present ducal house of Norfolk. Southwell's prose elegy, "Triumphs Over Death," was written to console the earl. In going his rounds he usually passed as a country gentleman, and that accounts for the "hawk" metaphors which so often occur in his verse. He was finally arrested at Harrow in 1592, and after three years' imprisonment in a dungeon which was swarming with vermin, he was hanged, drawn and quartered. Even during his lifetime, his poetical works were highly esteemed.

Henry Walpole was one of the spectators at the execution of Campion, and that gave him his vocation. He was admitted to the Society by Aquaviva, and made his second year of noviceship at the now famous Verdun. He was chaplain of the Spanish troops in Flanders, and was for some time in Spain. From there he went to Dunkirk where he embarked for England on a Spanish ship which landed him on the coast sixteen miles from York. There he fell into the hands of the Earl of Huntington, a grandnephew of Cardinal Pole, but a bitter foe of the Church. He was shifted about from prison to prison for a year or more, and was stretched on the rack fourteen times; at length, he was executed at York on April 7, 1595. Roger Filcock, who was put to death at London, on February 22 or 27, 1601, was a secular priest who was admitted to the Society while engaged in the work of the missions. So also was Francis Page. He had been a Protestant lawyer, and was engaged to a Catholic lady who converted him, but instead of marrying her he became a priest. One day, while celebrating Mass, he was so nearly caught that the chalice on the altar was found, but he had time to get into his secular clothes and escape. He applied for admission to the Society and was received, but before he could reach the novitiate in Flanders he was seized, racked and put to death in London on April 20, 1602.

Twenty years after the visit of Salmerón and Brouet to Ireland, David Wolff was sent there as Apostolic delegate. O'Reilly in his "Memorials" says, he was one of the most remarkable men who labored in Ireland during the first years of Elizabeth's reign. About 1566, he was captured and imprisoned in Dublin Castle, from which he escaped to Spain. He returned again in 1572, and died of starvation in the Castle of Clonoan near the borders of Galway. Bishop Tanner of Cork had been a Jesuit, but was obliged to leave the Society on account of his health. He was imprisoned in Dublin, tortured in various ways and in 1678, after eighteen months' suffering, died in chains. In 1575 Father Edmund Donnelly was hanged and disembowelled in Cork and his heart thrown into the fire. In 1585 Archbishop Creagh, the Primate of Ireland, who was poisoned while in jail in Dublin made his confession, says O'Reilly "to a fellow-prisoner, Father Critonius of the Society of Jesus." In 1588 Maurice Eustace, a young novice, was hanged and quartered in Dublin. Brother Dominick Collins, who had been a soldier in France and Spain, was executed at Youghal in 1602. He was the last of Elizabeth's victims.

An interesting character appears at this juncture in the person of Father Slingsby, the eldest son of Sir Francis Slingsby, a Protestant Englishman settled in Ireland. Young Francis was converted to the Faith in 1630, when he was twenty-two years old; he made up his mind to be a Jesuit, but in obedience to his father's order he returned to Ireland. He was imprisoned in Dublin. At the request of the queen, Henrietta Maria, however, he was not executed but banished from the kingdom. Returning to Rome in 1636, he was received into the Society in the following year. It was the intention of his Superiors to send him back to Ireland but he was detained on the Continent for his studies. He was ordained a priest in 1641 and a short time afterwards died at Naples with the reputation of a saint. Meantime he had converted most of his Protestant relatives. In 1642 Father Henry Caghwell, who had taught philosophy to Father Slingsby, was dragged from his house in Dublin, paralytic though he was, scourged in the public square, and left lying on the ground in the sight of his friends, none of whom dared to lift him up. He was then thrown into prison and after a while flung with twenty other priests into a ship. He reached France in a dying condition, but unexpectedly recovered and made his way back to Ireland, in spite of a storm that lasted twenty-one days. A few days after landing, he fell a victim to his charity in attending the sick.

Scotland had been visited in 1562 by Father Gouda who was sent to Mary Queen of Scots to invite her to have her bishops go to the Council of Trent. He brought back with him six young Scots who were to be the founders of the future mission. Prominent among them was Edmund Hay, who became rector of Clermont. In 1584 Crichton and Gordon attempted to enter their country, but Crichton was captured, while Gordon succeeded in finding his way in, and was afterwards joined by Hay and Drury. The Earl of Huntley, who was Gordon's nephew, and for a time the leader of the Catholic party, joined the Kirk in 1597, and that put an end to the mission. Prior to that, Father Abercrombie made a Catholic of the queen, Anne of Denmark, but she was not much to boast of. Meantime, the Scots College had been founded by Mary Stuart in Paris, and later other colleges were begun in Rome and Madrid. In 1614 Father John Ogilvie was martyred at Glasgow, while his associates were banished.

Coming back to England, where more tragedies were to be enacted, we find that before Campion was executed, Persons had succeeded in reaching France. He had intended to return after he had secured a printing-press to replace the one that had been seized, but, as a matter of fact, England never saw him again. Dr. Allen would not allow him to return; he, therefore, remained on the Continent and was conspicuous as a staunch supporter of the French League in its early days, and an advocate of the invasion of England by Philip II, primarily in the interest of Mary Queen of Scots, but also, to secure a successor to Queen Elizabeth. We find him frequently in Spain on various missions: in 1588 to reconcile Philip with Father Aquaviva; at other times, to obtain from the king the foundations of the seminaries of Valladolid, Seville and Madrid, as well as of two residences which afterwards developed into collegiate establishments. Allen had left England in 1565, sixteen years before Persons, and it is worth noting that during the three years which he spent in going around from place to place to sustain the courage of the persecuted Catholics he was not yet a priest. He was ordained only when he crossed over to Mechlin, sometime in 1565; it was not until 1587, twenty-two years afterwards that he was made a cardinal; he was never raised to the episcopal dignity. He was mentioned, it is true, for the See of Mechlin by Philip II, but, for some reason which has never been thoroughly explained, the nomination, although publicly allowed to stand several years, was never confirmed. He continued to reside at the English College in Rome until his death on October 16, 1594.

For some time previously the burning question of the English succession was being discussed by English Catholics and it did more harm to the Church in England than the persecutions of Henry and Elizabeth. Elizabeth had left no issue, and had not designated her heir. Some were in favor of a certain princess of Spain, who could trace her lineage back to John of Gaunt, and both Allen and Persons espoused her cause. Others held out for James VI of Scotland; a rabid partisan on this side was the Scotch Jesuit, Crichton, who was supported by a very large contingent of the secular clergy. A similar divergence of sentiment showed itself in Rome. Thus, for example, the cardinal-protector of the English mission, Gaetano, was pro-Spanish; the vice-protector, Cardinal Borghese, was pro-French, and with him was the Jesuit Cardinal Toletus, who, though a Spaniard, was against his countrymen in this matter. The Pope was not pro-Spanish. The result was that the English College in Rome was torn asunder by dissensions or "stirs" and some of the students gave public scandal in the city. Order was not restored till Persons was recalled from Spain to be rector of the college, but even he was told to his face by some of his boisterous pupils that they would never change their opinion, and they contended that if they died for it they would be martyrs of the Faith. Conditions were much worse in England itself. Even among the priests who were confined at Wisbeach, bitter disputes were kept up year after year in a way that was the reverse of edifying. Finally, when cognizance of this deplorable state of affairs was taken at Rome, Father Persons was requested to suggest a remedy, after Dr. Stapleton, who was a pro-Spaniard, had been summoned to Rome, but had failed to arrive on account of ill-health. In 1597 Persons, now no longer rector of the college, presented to the Pope a memorial drawn up in England asking for the appointment of two bishops, one for England proper, and the other for the English in Flanders. This proposition was sent to a commission of the Holy Office, but they gave an adverse decision, namely that the new hierarchy should not be episcopal, but sacerdotal, with an archpriest at its head.

Persons, who had been from the outset insisting on the necessity of sending a bishop to England, did not easily give up his plan, and he persuaded Cardinal Gaetano to take him around to all the members of the commission in order to press his views upon them, but without avail. Out of caution, the Pope resolved not to set up the hierarchy by Papal brief, and he gave orders to the cardinal-protector, Gaetano, to issue "constitutive letters" to that effect. The draft for these letters was prepared in the Papal Archivi dei Brevi, where it is still extant (Pollen, Institution of the Archpriest Blackwell, p. 25; see also Meyer, England and the Church under Elizabeth, p. 409. Meyer is a German Protestant). Hence, it is clear that the Jesuits are not responsible for the establishment of an archipresbyterate instead of an episcopate to rule England. It was the explicit act of the Holy Office and of the Pope. Moreover, the trouble that subsequently arose was due, not from the function itself, but from the person to whom it was entrusted; for, though Blackwell was the man most in evidence at that time, and one for whom everyone would have voted, he had too exalted an idea of his new dignity, and resorted to such high-handed and autocratic methods that his rule became intolerable. As a result, two Appellants made their way to Rome, as representatives of the clergy, though, as a matter of fact, no such commission had been given them. On their arrival, they were promptly put in seclusion in one of the colleges, and were forbidden to return to England.

Then began a bitter war of pamphlets between the adherents and the adversaries of the archpriest. Persons, and the Jesuits, in general, were especially assailed. One of the malcontents, Bluet, actually put himself in communication with the Protestant Bishop Bancroft, who expressed the opinion that "it was clearer than light that Persons had no other object except the conquest of England by the Spaniards." Bluet assented, and added that "the charge against the Jesuit would be proved best by our appeal to the Pope, in which we should make all our grievances manifest." Bancroft revealed this to the queen, and the government then did all in its power to foment the dissensions and facilitate the appeal to the Pope. In 1602 another party of Appellants set out for Rome with no authorization whatever, except that of their own faction. On their way they were joined by a Dr. Cecil, who was, though they were unaware of it, in the employ of the English Government as a spy--a degradation to which he had descended, not precisely to ruin his co-religionists, but because he was under the delusion that he could so reconstruct the Church in England that it would be acceptable to the queen.

Cecil and his companions were admitted to Rome only because the French Ambassador, de Béthune, took them under his protection. He had constituted himself their patron, not, however, for religious reasons, but merely to score a point against the influence of the King of Spain with the Pope. Their reception by his Holiness was extremely cold, and when they reported back to de Béthune, he appeared before the Pope on the next day, and said: "Hitherto the Catholic policy has been grossly wrong (turpiter erratum est). Nothing has been tried except arms, poisons, and plots. If only these were laid aside Elizabeth would be tolerant. Therefore, (1) Your Holiness must withdraw your censures from the queen; (2) you must threaten the Catholics with censure if they attempt political measures against her directly or indirectly; (3) Father Persons and his like must be chastised and expelled from your seminaries; (4) the Archpriest, who seems to have been constituted solely to help the Spanish faction by false informations, should be removed or much restrained; (5) if perhaps all this cannot be done at once, a beginning should be made by giving satisfaction to the Appellant priests; (6) then, by degrees, Henri will intervene and Elizabeth's anger will cool down." As Pollen remarks: "The Frenchman's boldness was almost sublime. To throw over St. Pius V, Cardinal Allen, Gregory, Sixtus, Campion and all the seminaries, with one sweeping remark: turpiter erratum est--was worthy of la furie française. De Béthune scoffed at a past already acknowledged to be one of the glories of the Church, as a period of murder plots, diversified by armed invasions."

On October 12 the Pope gave a Brief to the contending parties to settle their quarrel. Both sides shouted victory, and the paper was at once sent to England, where it was intercepted by Elizabeth's spies. The government responded by a proclamation against the Catholic clergy, banishing them from the realm lest it might be thought that Elizabeth had ever meant to grant toleration. "God doth know our innocency," it said, "of any such imagining." The royal proclamation was cunningly devised. It declared that all Jesuits were unqualified traitors and must leave the country within thirty days. For other Catholics, a commission was to be appointed which, after three months, was to begin an individual examination of all suspects and deal with them at discretion.

By the Scottish party this was regarded as the beginning of a new era, and they, consequently, drafted an instrument stating: (1) that they owed the same civil obedience to the queen as that which bound Catholic priests to Catholic sovereigns; (2) that they would inform her of any plots or attempts at evasion, even when made to place a Catholic sovereign on the throne; (3) that were any excommunication issued against them on account of their performance of this duty, they would regard it as not binding. This statement was issued on January 31, 1603. It never reached Elizabeth, for she died in the following March. But as it stood, it was in direct contravention of the Pope's instructions to the clergy to do all in their power, short of rebellion, to restore the Catholic succession.

Before the death of Elizabeth, two clergymen, Watson and Clarke had gone to Scotland to sound James on his possible attitude to English Catholics in case he obtained the throne. Of course, he was extremely affable, to them, as he was to the English Puritans, who were just then arrayed in opposition to the Established Church. But he was no sooner king than he began to treat both Puritans and Catholics with such rigor that a plot was formed by both of the aggrieved parties to seize his person and compel him to modify his policy. Among the Protestant conspirators were such men as Cobham, Markham, Grey and Walter Raleigh. The whole history of this singular combination, however, is so confused that it is hard to pronounce with certainty as to what really was done or intended. But it appears that the purpose of the Catholic conspirators was to allow the king to be taken prisoner by the Puritans and then to rescue him from their hands. It was called the Bye Plot, and was based on the hope that James would be so grateful for this act of devotion to his interest that he would grant all their requests. On the other hand, such childish simplicity seems almost incredible. It was worthy of the visionary, Watson, who planned it.

The farce ended in a tragedy. The two priests were hanged without more ado. Of the Puritans, Cobham was sent to the scaffold, and Grey, Markham and Raleigh, after being condemned, were pardoned. King James received a letter from the Pope regretting the action of Watson and Clarke, and assuring him of the abhorrence with which he regarded all acts of disloyalty. He also expressed his willingness to recall any missionary who might be an object of suspicion, and both Jesuits and seculars were ordered to confine themselves to their spiritual duties and to discourage by every means in their power any attempt to disturb the tranquillity of the realm (Lingard, History of England, IX, 21).

In 1604 James drew up for Catholics an oath of allegiance which not only denied the power of the Pope to depose kings, but declared that such a claim was heretical, impious and damnable. It was condemned by Paul V, but the Archpriest Blackwell publicly announced that notwithstanding the condemnation, the oath might be conscientiously taken by any English Catholic, and he accepted it himself before the Commissioners of Lambeth. Bellarmine and Persons wrote long expostulations to him, but without avail. He was finally deposed from office, and Birkhead took his place as archpriest. "This measure," says Lingard, "was productive of a deep and long-continued schism in the Catholic body. The greater number, swayed by the authority of the new Archpriest and of the Jesuit missionaries, looked upon the oath as a denial of their religion; but, on the other hand, many preferring to be satisfied with the arguments of Blackwell and his advocates, cheerfully took it, when it was offered, and thus freed themselves from the severe penalties to which they would have been subject by the refusal" (op. cit., IX, 77).

Now came the disaster. Irritated beyond measure by the treachery and the tyranny of King James I, a number of Catholic gentlemen, some of them recent converts, formed a plot to blow up the House of Parliament and so get rid of king, lords and commons by one blow.

While the plans were being laid, some of the conspirators began to doubt about their right to involve so many innocent people in the wholesale ruin that must result from this terrible crime. To settle their scruples, Catesby, the chief plotter, proposed a supposititious case to Father Garnet, the Jesuit provincial. "I am going to join the army of the Archduke on the Continent," he said, "and I may be ordered, for example, to blow up a mine in order to destroy the enemy. Can I do so, even if a number of innocent persons are killed?" The answer of course was in the affirmative, and then Catesby made haste to assure his friends that they could proceed in their work with a safe conscience. But as time wore on, he was noticed by his friends to be habitually excited, very often absent from home, and apparently not preparing to go abroad, as he had said he intended to do. Hence, suspicion was aroused, and Garnet, having received some vague hints of the conspiracy, took occasion at Catesby's own table, to inculcate on his host the necessity of submitting meekly to the persecution then going on. Whereupon Catesby burst out in a rage: "It is to you and such as you," he exclaimed, "that we owe our present calamities. This doctrine of non-resistance makes us slaves. No priest or pontiff can deprive a man of the right to repel injustice." Garnet, alarmed at this utterance, immediately wrote to his superior in Rome, and in due time received two letters, one from the General, the other from the Pope, putting him under strict orders to do all in his power to prevent any attempt against the State. These letters were shown to Catesby, but he protested that they were written on wrong information, and he volunteered to send a special messenger to Rome to put before the authorities there the true state of things. This promise satisfied Garnet, and he felt sure the matter was disposed of, at least, for a time.

This was on May 8, 1605. On October 26, Catesby went to confession to Father Greenwell, or Greenway, or Texmunde, or Tessimond, a Yorkshire man, and revealed the whole plot. Greenwell showed his horror at the proposition and forbade him to entertain it, but Catesby refused to be convinced, and asked him to state the case to Garnet, under seal of confession, with leave to speak of it to others, after the matter, had become public. This will explain how the fact of the confession came out in the trial. Unfortunately, Greenwell was foolish enough to communicate it to Garnet under seal of confession. He was bitterly reproved for doing so, but it was too late; had he kept it to himself, Garnet would not have died on the scaffold. On November 5 after midnight, the plot was discovered, and Guy Fawkes, who was guarding the powder in the cellar of the building where Parliament was to meet, was seized, and acknowledged that the thirty-five barrels of powder which had been placed there were "to blow the Scottish beggars back to their native mountains"--an utterance that won from the king the expression: "Fawkes is the English Scævola." The other conspirators had time to flee, but were caught on November 8, at Holbeach House. They made a brief stand, but in the fight four were killed, among them Catesby. The others, with the exception of Littleton, who, it would seem, had betrayed them, purposely or otherwise, were taken prisoners and lodged in the Tower.

"More than two months intervened," says Lingard, "between the apprehension and the trial of the conspirators. The ministers had persuaded themselves, or wished to persuade others, that the Jesuit missionaries were deeply implicated in the plot. On this account the prisoners were subjected to repeated examinations; every artifice which ingenuity could devise, both promises and threats, the sight of the rack, and occasionally the infliction of torture were employed to draw from them some avowal which might furnish a ground for the charge; and in a proclamation issued for the apprehension of Gerard, Garnet, and Greenway, it was said to be plain and evident from the examinations that all three had been peculiarly practisers in the plot, and therefore no less pernicious than the actors and counsellors of the treason."

The mention of Gerard in the warrant arose from the fact that two years previously, namely on May 1, 1604, the first five conspirators, Catesby, Percy, Wright, Fawkes, and Winter, met "at a house in the fields beyond St. Clement's Inn, where," according to Fawkes' confession, "they did confer and agree on the plot; and they took a solemn oath and vowed by all their force to execute the same, and of secrecy not to reveal it to any of their fellows, but to such as should be thought fit persons to enter into the action, and in the same house they did receive the sacrament of Gerard, the Jesuit, to perform their vow and oath of secrecy aforesaid, but that Gerard was not acquainted with their purpose." This document is in the handwriting of Sir Edward Coke, but there appear in the original paper, just before the phrase exculpating Gerard, the words huc usque (i. e. up to this). Coke read the passage to the judges, "up to this" but the words that would have freed Gerard from suspicion he withheld. "At length," continues Lingard, "the eight prisoners were arraigned. They all pleaded not guilty, not, they wished it to be observed, because they denied their participation in the conspiracy, but because the indictment contained much to which till that day they had been strangers. It was false that the three Jesuits had been the authors of the conspiracy, or had ever held consultations with them on the subject: as far as had come to their knowledge, all three were innocent." They maintained their own right to do as they had done, because "no means of liberation was left but the one they had adopted."

Gerard and Greenwell escaped to the Continent, whereas Garnet, after sending a protestation of his innocence to the Council, secreted himself in the house of Thomas Abingdon, who had married a sister of Lord Mounteagle, the nobleman who had first put the authorities on the scent. According to Jardine (Criminal Trials, 67-70) much ingenuity was employed at the trial to prevent Mounteagle's name from being called in question. With Garnet were Father Oldcorne and Owen, a lay-brother, and also a servant named Chambers. Oldcorne was the chaplain of the house, but Hallam in his Constitutional History (I-554) says: "the damning circumstance against Garnet is that he was taken at Hendlip in concealment, along with the other conspirators." As Oldcorne and the two others had nothing whatever to do with the affair and as all the conspirators had been already shot or hanged, "the damning evidence" of perverting the facts of the case is against Hallam.

On February 1, the Bill of Attainder was read, and day after day, till March 28, the commissioners visited the Tower to elicit evidence. Oldcorne was repeatedly put on the rack, but nothing was extorted from him. So also with Owen, Chambers and Johnson, the chief steward of the house where the priests were found. On March 1, after Owen had been tortured, he was told he would be stretched on the rack the two following days. The third experiment killed him, and it was given out that "he had ripped his belly open with a blunt knife." Garnet, when threatened with the rack, replied that "the threat did not frighten him--he was not a child."

The trial was finally called for March 28. The most distinguished lawyer in the realm at that time was Attorney-General Coke. He began his charge by recalling the history of all the plots that had been hatched since Elizabeth's time; he declaimed against Jesuitical equivocation and the temporal power of the Pope, and insisted that all missionaries, and the Jesuits in particular, were leagued in conspiracy against the king and his Protestant councillors. But when he got down to the real merits of the indictment, he soon betrayed the groundlessness of his charge. Not a word did he say of the confessions or the witnesses or their dying declarations, although he had boasted he would prove that Garnet had been the original framer of the plot and the confidential adviser of the conspirators. His whole charge rested on his own assertions, and was supported only by a few unimportant facts, susceptible of a very different interpretation (Lingard, op. cit., IX, 63).

Garnet answered that he had been debarred from making known his information of the plot for the reason that it had been imparted to him under the seal of confession, and could not be revealed until it had become public property. His concealment of it, nevertheless, was considered by the judges as misprision of treason, and on that ground, and not by anything adduced by the attorney-general, was he condemned. Indeed, Coke had so utterly failed to prove his case that even Cecil confessed that nothing had been produced against Garnet, except that he had been overheard to say in conversation with Oldcorne in the Tower, that "only one person knew of his acquaintance with the conspiracy." It is this particular feature of the trial that has evoked ever since a great deal of hypocritical denunciation of Garnet's lack of veracity. When asked if he had spoken to Oldcorne or written to Greenway, he replied in the negative; but it was proved that he had done both. As it is Coke who alleges this inveracity of Father Garnet, we may reject it as a calumny for that same distinguished personage declared in his official report that Garnet, when on the scaffold, admitted his complicity in the crime, whereas this was flatly denied by those who were present at the execution. If Coke could lie about one thing, he could lie about another. But in any case a criminal court is not a confessional, and the worst offender can plead "not guilty" without violating the truth. Garnet was executed on March 3, 1606, but his body was not quartered until life had left it.

Gerard, who had been proscribed, but who was perfectly innocent of any knowledge of the conspiracy, had made haste to leave the country. It was a difficult thing to do but he finally succeeded, and at the very time that Garnet was standing on the scaffold, Gerard was leaving London as a footman in the train of the Spanish ambassador. A lay-brother was with him in some other capacity. Such was his farewell to his native country. He had been sent there as a missionary in 1588, and had stepped ashore on the Norfolk coast just after the defeat of the Armada--a time when everyone was hunting for Papists. The story of the adventure of this handsome, courtly gentleman, who had three or four languages at his disposal, who was a keen sportsman, a skilful horseman, and a polished man of the world, and was at ease in the highest society, yet who was always preaching the Gospel wherever he went, in prisons and even on the rack, forms one of the most attractive pages in the records of the English mission. He died in Rome at the age of seventy-three.

During the trial of Father Garnet, Oldcorne had been removed from the Tower and executed at Worcester on April 7 or 17. Littleton, who had saved himself at the time of the conspiracy by informing on the others, begged the father's pardon on the scaffold and died with him. Two years afterwards, on June 23, 1608, Father Garnet's nephew, Thomas was martyred in London. He was then thirty-four years old, and had been only three years a Jesuit.

After the execution of Garnet a much more drastic penal code was enacted. Henry IV of France, through his ambassador and the Prince de Joinville, tried hard to restrain the anger of King James, but without avail, except that two missionaries, under sentence of death for refusing to take the oath, were saved by the French king's intercession. He could not obtain the reprieve of Drury, however, who was condemned to death because a copy of a letter from Persons denouncing the oath of allegiance was found in his possession. Whether this Drury was a Jesuit or not cannot be ascertained, for the "Fasti Breviores" and the "Menology" speak only of a Drury who was killed with another Jesuit in the collapse of a church at old Blackfriars in 1623. James would not listen to the remonstrances of Henry; he assured the ambassador that he was, by nature, an enemy of harsh and cruel measures, and that he had repeatedly held his ministers in check, but that the Catholics were so infected with the doctrine of the Jesuits that he had to leave the matter to parliament. When the ambassador remarked that there was apparently no difference of treatment whether Catholics took the oath or not, the king did not reply.

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VI. JAPAN

1555-1645

After Xavier's time--Torres and Fernandes--Civandono--Nunhes and Pinto--The King of Hirando--First Persecution--Gago and Vilela-- Almeida--Uprising against the Emperor--Justus Ucondono and Nobunaga--Valignani--Founding of Nangasaki--Fervor and Fidelity of the Converts--Embassy to Europe--Journey through Portugal, Spain and Italy--Reception by Gregory XIII and Sixtus V--Return to Japan--The Great Persecutions by Taicosama, Daifusama, Shogun I and Shogun II--Spinola and other Martyrs--Arrival of Franciscans and Dominicans--Popular eagerness for death-- Mastrilli--Attempts to establish a Hierarchy--Closing the Ports --Discovery of the Christians.

When Francis Xavier bade farewell to Japan in 1551, he left behind him Fathers Torres and Fernandes. They could not possibly have sufficed for the vast work before them, and hence, in August of the following year, Father Gago was sent with two companions, neither of whom was yet in Holy Orders. They were provided with royal letters and well supplied with presents to King Civandono, who was a devoted friend to Francis Xavier.

The newcomers were amazed at the piety of the 3,000 Christians, who were awaiting further instruction. They found them kind and charitable, very much given to corporal austerities, and extremely scrupulous in matters of conscience and there was no difficulty in getting enthusiastic catechists among them to address the people and teach them the new religion. As the belief of the Japanese, was then, as it is today, Shintoism, which has no dogma, no moral law, and no books, and is tinctured with Buddhism, the main doctrine of which is the transmigration of souls, it was easy to arouse interest in a religion which presented to their consideration spiritual doctrines, a moral law and sacred books. In 1554 there were 1500 baptisms in the kingdom of Arima alone, though no priest had as yet entered that part of the country. The feudal system of government then prevailing made conversions easy. Thus, when the Governor of Amaguchi became a Christian, more than three hundred of his vassals and friends immediately followed his example. This influence was still more in evidence whenever a distinguished bonze accepted the Faith, an example of which occurred when the two most celebrated personages of that class came down from Kioto to Amaguchi for a public disputation. After the conference they fell at the feet of Torres, and not only asked for baptism, but became zealous instructors of the people. Naturally all the bonzeries of the Empire were alarmed and they rose in revolt against the Government for not checking these conversions. But Civandono called his troops together to quell what soon assumed the proportions of organized warfare. Indeed at one time, the insurgents seemed to be getting the upper hand: but just as the king was on the point of being entrapped, Fernandes at the risk of his life slipped through the ranks of the enemy and gave Civandono information which won the victory. After that the friendship of the monarch never failed his Christian subjects. He had ample opportunity to show his devotion to them, for uprisings were as common as the earthquakes in Japan, which were said to average three a day.

Father Nunhes, the provincial, had been induced by the Viceroy of the Indies to pay a visit to Japan at this juncture, and he arrived with Father Vilela and a number of young scholastics. With them was a rich Portuguese named Pinto, who had resolved to employ most of his money in building a school in Civandono's dominions. In order to help the scheme, the viceroy had made Pinto his ambassador. They arrived in April, 1556, after a perilous journey, only to find a letter there from St. Ignatius, reminding Father Nunhes that provincials had no business to undertake such journeys and leave their official work to others. However, such a pressing invitation had come meantime from the King of Firando or Hirando, as it is now called, and the chance seemed so promising for the king's conversion, that Father Nunhes presumed permission to delay his return to India. He was received by Civandono, whom he had to visit on his way to Hirando, with the same splendid ceremonies that had been accorded to St. Francis Xavier; and, during a long conference which was held with the help of Fernandes, he urged the king to become a Christian, but Civandono insisted that reasons of State prevented him from doing so for the moment. Nunhes then set out for Hirando, but fell ill before he reached it, and, in consequence, was compelled to return to Goa. As he had not converted a single idolater, and as Pinto's grand plans for the education of the Japanese were a failure, the provincial concluded that it would have been wiser to have remained in Hindostan, where he was accomplishing great things, than to engage in apostolic work to which obedience had not assigned him. Pinto's failure, however, was compensated for by the devotion of another rich man, Louis Almeida, who had come with Father Nunhes to Japan. Almeida being a physician, immediately set to work to build two establishments--a hospital for lepers and a refuge for abandoned children, which the immorality of the Japanese women made extremely necessary. This was another expression of gratitude to Civandono, which the king appreciated. By this time Almeida had become a Jesuit.

Meantime the King of Hirando, who had asked for Nunhes, was propitiated by having Father Gago sent to him. The missionary's success was marvellous. Numberless conversions followed his visit, beginning with that of the king himself. Helpers were sent, among them being the illustrious bonze, Paul of Kioto, whose conversion had caused a great stir some few years before. In a month or so 1400 baptisms were recorded; but Paul had reached the end of his apostolic career and he returned to die in the arms of Father Torres.

The usual uprising occurred, and the king who had made so much ado about calling Father Nunhes turned out to be a very weak-kneed Christian. Churches were destroyed, crosses desecrated, and other outrages committed, but he did nothing to quell the disturbance. Political reasons, he alleged, prevented him. It was in this outbreak that the first martyrdom occurred, that of a poor slave-woman who had been accustomed to pray before a cross erected outside the city. She had been warned that it was as much as her life was worth to declare her Christianity so openly; she persisted, nevertheless, and was killed as she knelt down in the roadway to receive the blow of the executioner's sword. Even Father Gago himself came near falling a victim to the popular fury. In view of subsequent events, if they were as reported, it is to be regretted that he missed the opportunity of winning the crown.

The first Jesuit who reached Kioto and remained there was Vilela. He had travelled a long distance to visit a famous bonzery to which he had been invited; and then, finding himself not far away from the imperial city, he determined to present himself to the emperor, or Mikado as he was called. His method of approaching that great potentate amazed the onlookers by its novelty. Holding his cross high in the air, he proclaimed his purpose in coming to Japan. To the surprise of every one, the Mikado seemed extremely pleased; but that alarmed the bonzes, and they accused Vilela of all sorts of crimes, not excluding cannibalism. Indeed, they had seen great pieces of human flesh at Vilela's house, they said. To stop their clamors, the Mikado finally consented to a public debate, doing so with great apprehension, however, for Vilela's success. The discussion took place, but, if the metempsychosis set forth by their spokesman on that occasion, represented the popular creed, one is forced to say that the Japanese mentality of that period was not of a very superior character. Vilela's easy victory gave him the right to preach everywhere in the Empire; and the number of converts was so great that many missionaries were needed to help him.

Father Gago, who had missed the chance of martyrdom a short time before, was looked upon as the man for the emergency. Francis Xavier had chosen him expressly for Japan; his facility in learning the language was marvellous; his piety was admitted by all; his zeal knew no bounds, and his success corresponded with his efforts. Indeed, he was almost adored wherever he went; but suddenly, just as he was needed he appeared to be a changed man. His energy, his zeal, his enthusiasm had all evaporated. There was, absolutely, nothing amiss in his conduct--not even a suspicion suggested itself. But he wanted to give up his work; and to the dismay of his associates he returned to Goa. He was nearly shipwrecked on his way, but that resulted only in a temporary revival of his fervor. He was sent to Salsette and was taken prisoner but was subsequently released. He was never again, however, the man that he had been in the beginning of his career. "I have enlarged on this," says Charlevoix, "for I am writing a history and not a panegyric." The "Menology" of Portugal, however, assails both Charlevoix and Bartoli for this charge, but the defence lacks explicitness.

From Kioto, Vilela went to Sacai, which was an independent city--republican in its administration, but in its rule as tyrannical as Venice was about that time. Over and above that, it was grossly immoral, and only one family in it would have anything to do with the missionary. So he shook its dust from his feet and went elsewhere.

Almeida, the physician, distinguished himself in his missionary journeys at this time, and he tells how he came across a whole community of people in a secluded district who had seen a priest only once in passing, yet had remembered all that had been told them, and were keeping the commandments as well as they knew how. He baptized them all, and leaving them capable catechists, one of whom had written a book about Christianity, he continued on his way, hunting for more souls to save. It was largely due to him that some of the reigning princes were gained over. One of them, Sumitanda by name, had distinguished himself by throwing down a famous idol, called the God of War, just at the moment the army was going into battle. As the fight was won, most of the soldiers not only became Christians, but, later on, when Sumitanda found himself attacked by two kings who resented his conversion, a great number of his men fastened crosses on their armor and swept the enemy from the field.

Meantime a revolution had broken out at Kioto against the Mikado; he was besieged in his citadel, but finally succeeded in beating back the foe. When peace was restored in 1562 Vilela returned to the capital; and multitudes, not only of the people, but many princes of the blood and distinguished nobles, made a public profession of Christianity. This again brought the bonzes to the fore, and as a prelude to a decree of expulsion of the missionaries, they succeeded in having two of the most influential men of the kingdom, both bitter pagans, constituted as a commission to examine into the new teachings. So convinced was everyone that it was only the beginning of a process of extermination that Vilela was advised to withdraw from the capital. He acquiesced, much against his will; but it happened that two of his Christians of the humbler class so astounded the inquisitors by their answers that both of the great men asked for baptism. A discourse of Vilela gained another convert in the person of the father of a man who became famous in those days of Japanese history--Justus Ucondono.

In 1565 the missionaries were treated with special consideration by the Mikado, on the occasion of the splendid court ceremonies which marked the opening of the new year. The whole nation was astounded at the unprecedented favor, but as usual it was only the prelude of a storm. In the following year the Mikado was murdered; and all his adherents were either put to the sword or expelled from the capital. This was the first act of a tragedy that would make a theme for a Shakespeare. It is as follows: The successful rebels had placed the younger brother of the emperor on the throne, but fearing a similar fate, he had fled to the castle of the distinguished soldier, Vatadono, who, finding himself not strong enough to maintain the claim of the fugitive monarch, induced the ablest military man of Japan, Nobunaga, the King of Boari, to take up the cause of their sovereign. The offer was accepted; two bloody battles followed; the insurgents were cut to pieces, and the young emperor, under the name of Cubosama, was enthroned at Kioto. The palace, which had been wrecked in the war, was replaced by a new one, built of the stones of the bonzeries and the statues of the national idols. The two conquerors then made haste to show their esteem for the missionaries and assured them of protection; Nobunaga withdrew to his kingdom when the work was completed, and Vatadono, his lieutenant, remained as viceroy at Kioto. All these events occurred in the single year of 1568.

Just then the illustrious Alexander Valignani, the greatest man of the missions in the East after Francis Xavier, came on the scene. For thirty-two years all his efforts were directed to shaping and guiding the various posts of the vast field of apostolic work in this new part of the world, his success being marvellous. He was born at Chieti. The close friendship of his father with Pope Paul IV made the highest offices of the Church attainable if he chose to aspire to them; but he left the papal court, and was received into the Society by Francis Borgia, beginning his life as a Jesuit by the practice of terrible bodily mortifications, which he continued until the end of his career. He was chosen by Mercurian to be visitor to the Indies; thirty-two companions were given him, and he was authorized to select eight more, wherever he might find them.

At that time Japan had only twenty missionaries, while there were none at all in China. When Valignani died, there were in the empire of Japan one hundred and fifty Jesuits and six hundred catechists, who in spite of wars and persecutions had three hundred churches and thirty-one places for the missionaries to assemble. There were a novitiate, a house of theological and philosophical studies, two colleges where the Japanese nobles sent their sons, besides a printing establishment, two schools of music and painting, multitudes of sodalities, schools, and finally, hospitals for every kind of human suffering, and when the persecutions began, he had resources enough at his disposal to provide for nine hundred exiled Japanese. Finally, it was his guidance and help that enabled Matteo Ricci to plant the cross in the two capitals of China. He wielded such an influence over the terrible Taicosama that it was a common saying in the empire that if Father Alexander had survived, the Church of Japan would never have succumbed. There was great rejoicing when his arrival was announced. The ship which brought him to port had not dropped anchor, before it was surrounded by hundreds of boats filled with Christians, all of them carrying flags on which a cross was painted. When he approached the city, throngs of people came out to meet him, some kissing his robe, others his hands, others his feet, and a long procession led him in triumph to the Church, where a Te Deum was sung to thank God for his coming.

In that year, Nagasaki, which was afterwards to furnish so many martyrs to the faith, suddenly developed from an inconspicuous village to a great city, because of the number of Christians who had settled there. A great sorrow, however, just then fell on the Church; Fernandes, one of the missionaries whom Xavier had left behind him in Japan, had died. Torres still remained, indeed, but he also was to end his glorious career in a year or two. However, they had built up a splendid Church; and under such conditions the work of evangelization could not fail to proceed rapidly. Indeed, the records of that period teem with accounts of conversions of princes and entire populations; and when Cabral arrived as superior in place of Torres, the emperor gave the missionaries his protection, in spite of the unrelenting opposition of the bonzes, who still exercised a preponderating influence at Court. In one of the provinces, Cabral, in his official visitations, found a very remarkable evidence of solidity in the faith. No priest had been there for ten years; yet a beautiful church had been erected and a fervent congregation filled it continually. In another place where the constant wars in which the ruler was engaged and the carnage which he had committed in conquering the territory had kept out the missionaries for at least twenty years, thanks to an old blind man named Tobias whom St. Francis Xavier had baptized and named, all the people who were left in the vicinity were thoroughly instructed in their Faith.

Meantime a new historical drama was being enacted, which was more marvellous than the first. The weak character of Cubosama had made him the victim of the bonzes, whom he heartily detested. They had also succeeded in disrupting the friendship of Vatadono and Nobunaga. Fortunately, the two friends were reconciled in time, but that gave rise to a counter movement to destroy them. War was declared on some pretext or other, and in one of the first engagements Vatadono was killed. It was a sad blow for the missionaries, for the hero was a catechumen and was waiting to be baptized. Left alone now and supposed to be unable to defend himself, Nobunaga was more fiercely assailed than ever by the bonzes. Wearied of it all, he called his troops together and set out for Kioto. His enemies fled before him. He took the city and set it on fire, and then, not because he was actuated by motives of personal ambition, but because he saw that if Cubosama was allowed to rule the state of warfare would continue, he locked up the feeble monarch in a fortress, and constituted himself supreme military commander or Shogun. It was then that Civandono, King of Bungo, the original friend of Francis Xavier, became a Christian and took the name of Francis; furthermore he built a city in which only Christians were allowed to live. There he passed the rest of his days an example of piety to all.

Meantime, Nobunaga continued to shower favors on the missionaries. He built a new and splendid city, and in the best part of it founded a college and a seminary. Christianity made great strides under his administration, as he was the deadly enemy of the bonzes who for years had endeavored to compass his ruin. Nevertheless, though he listened with interest and pleasure to explanations of the creed, and asked the missionaries, half roguishly, if they really believed all they said, and if they were not as bad as the bonzes, he went no further.

In the first years of Nobunaga's rule, Valignani conceived the idea of having a solemn embassy sent by the various Christian kings of the country, to pay their homage to the Sovereign Pontiff in the Eternal City. It was not an imperial delegation, but was restricted to the three devout rulers of Bungo, Arima and Omura. Nobunaga willingly gave his consent, and the ambassadors left Nagasaki on February 22, 1582, and repaired to Kioto. From there they went by the way of Malacca to Goa. On this part of the journey they were frequently in imminent danger of shipwreck, but they arrived safely in Goa at the beginning of 1583. There they were received with great ceremony by the Viceroy, Mascaregnas, who entertained them for several months. Valignani, who had conducted them thus far, returned to Japan after putting them in the hands of Fathers Mesquita and Rodrigues, who remained with them till they reached Rome.

They set sail at the end of February, and on August 10 dropped anchor in the Tagus. Charlevoix remarks that "this part of the journey was not long," though it was nearly six months in duration. The prince cardinal who was at that time Viceroy of Portugal showered honors upon them, and made them his guests in the royal palace for an entire month. They then visited the principal cities of Portugal. Nothing was too much for them in the way of honor and even in the way of money. Finally they were conducted to Madrid and had a public audience with Philip II, to whom they presented their credentials and offered the presents of the Christians of Japan and their expression of gratitude for all that his majesty had done for the infant Church of their country. Philip is said to have embraced them affectionately, assuring them of the great regard he had for the kings whom they represented. The Queen Maria put her carriages at their disposal, and on the following day they were conducted to the Escorial where they received the congratulations of the princes and grandees of Spain. The French ambassador also paid them a ceremonious visit. Even the king himself called upon them and had a vessel equipped at Alicante to conduct them to Italy. They left Madrid on November 26, and were received with almost royal honors in every city on their way. It was already January, 1585, when they left Spain. The Mediterranean treated them badly; and it was only in the month of March that they stepped ashore at Leghorn, amid the salvos of artillery from the fort. The carriages of the grand duke carried them on their journey to Pisa. There the prince and all his court were waiting to receive them, and led them to the palace, where a splendid banquet was prepared, after which Pietro de' Medici and the grand duke came to pay them their respects.

They saw the carnival at Pisa, and then journeyed on to Florence, where the papal nuncio and the cardinal archbishop, who was afterwards Pope Leo XI, bade them welcome. From there they passed to Siena, where, as guests of the Pope, they were met at the frontier by two hundred arquebusiers sent by the vice-legate of Viterbo to show them special honor. Gregory XIII was then on the Pontifical throne; and feeling that his end was approaching, he sent a company of light horse to hasten their coming. It was Friday, March 20, 1585, when they entered Rome, and their first visit was to Father Aquaviva, who was then General of the Society. He led them to the church, where a Te Deum was sung; and on the following day the Pope held a consistory which ordered that the envoys should be regarded as royal ambassadors; that their reception should be as splendid as possible; and that their first audience should be at the full consistory in the papal palace.

On the day appointed for the solemn entry, March 23, the Spanish ambassador sent his carriages to convey the visitors to the villa of the Pope; and then with the papal light horse at the head, followed by the Swiss guards, the cardinalitial officials and the ambassadors of Spain and Venice, with their pages and officers and trumpeters and all the papal household in their purple robes, the delegates proceeded to the City. The Japanese were on horseback and wore the costume of their country; princes and archbishops rode on either side, and followed by Father Diego, who acted as interpreter. A throng of mounted cavaliers in gorgeous apparel closed the pageant. The whole city turned out to receive them. The streets were crowded with people, as were the roofs of the houses, all observing a reverential silence, interrupted only by the blast of the trumpets or the occasional but enthusiastic acclamations of the multitude. When the bridge of Castle Sant' Angelo was reached, the cannon boomed out a welcome which was repeated by the guns of the papal palace and taken up by strains of musical instruments that resounded from every quarter as the envoys approached the palace.

So great was the throng of cardinals and prelates in the hall that the Swiss guards had to force their way through it, to conduct the Pontiff to his throne. When he was seated the ambassadors approached, holding their credentials in their hands; and then, kneeling at the feet of the Pope, they announced in a clear and loud voice that they had come from the ends of the earth to see the Vicar of Jesus Christ and to offer him the homage of the princes whose envoys they were. Tears flowed down the cheeks of the Pontiff as he lifted the envoys up and embraced them tenderly, again and again, with an affection they never forgot. They were then conducted to a raised platform; and the secretary of the Pope read aloud the letters, which they had brought. When that was concluded, Father González explained at length the purpose of their mission, and a bishop replied in the name of His Holiness. The second kissing of the feet was next in order, and the cardinals crowded around the wondering Japanese to ask them numberless questions about their country and the events of their voyage, to all of which replies were given with a refinement and courtesy that charmed all who heard them. The session was now ended, and rising from his throne, the Pope withdrew, giving to the visitors the honor, conferred only on the imperial ambassadors, of bearing the papal train. They were then entertained at a sumptuous banquet.

Private interviews with the Pope followed; and after receptions by various dignitaries, at some of which the Japanese wore their national dress, at others appearing in the Italian apparel, the Pope gave them expensive robes, which they wore with an ease and grace that was amazing for men so unaccustomed to such surroundings and ceremonies. When they went to offer their prayers at the seven churches they were received processionally at each of them, the bells ringing and organs playing. Meantime physicians were sending hourly bulletins to His Holiness, who was deeply concerned about one of the envoys who had been debarred from all these ceremonies by an attack of sickness. The invalid, however, did not die, but, later on, in his native country, gave his life for the Faith.

Indeed it was the Pope himself who died a few days after these pageants. He was ill only a few days, but in his very last moments he was making inquiries about the sick man from the Far East. He departed this life on April 10, and on the 25th Sixtus V mounted the throne. Before his election he had been most effusive in his attention to the Japanese, and was more so after his election, even giving them precedence over cardinals, when there was question of an audience. They assisted at his coronation, served as acolytes at his Mass, and were guests at a banquet in his villa. He even decorated them as knights, and when they had been belted and spurred by the ambassadors of France and Venice, he hung rich gold chains and medals on their necks, lifted them up and kissed them and gave them communion at his private Mass. He sent letters and presents to the kings they represented, and the ambassadors themselves were recipients of rich rewards from the generous Pontiff.

Finally, they were made patricians by the Senate, which assembled at the Capitol for that purpose; and were given letters patent with a massive gold seal attached. They then bade farewell to the Pope, who defrayed all the expenses of their journey to Lisbon. Invitations were extended to them from other sovereigns of Europe, but it was impossible to accept them, and they left Rome on June 3, 1585, conducted a considerable distance by the light horse and numbers of the nobility. At Spoleto, Assisi, Montefalcono, Perugia, Bologna, Ferrara and elsewhere, every honor was given them. As they approached Venice, for instance, forty red-robed senators received them and accompanied them up the Grand Canal in a vessel that was usually kept for the use of kings. Every gondola of the city followed in their wake; the patriarch and all the nobility visited them; and they were then conducted to the palace of the Doge, where the attendant senators accorded them the first places in the assembly. Tintoretto painted their portraits, and they were shown tapestries on which their reception by the Pope had been already represented. A hundred pieces of artillery welcomed them to Mantua; the city was illuminated and the people knelt in the street to show their veneration for these new children of the Faith from the Far East. They even stood sponsors at the baptism of a Jewish rabbi. It was the same story at Milan and Cremona. They approached Genoa by sea, and galleys were sent out to convoy them to the city. Leaving there on August 8 they reached Barcelona on the 17th. At Moncon they again saw Philip II who had a vessel specially equipped for them at Lisbon; he lavished money and presents on them, and gave orders to the Viceroy of India to provide them with everything they wished till they reached Japan. They finally left Lisbon on April 30, 1586. During their stay in Europe they had the happiness of meeting St. Aloysius Gonzaga, who was then a novice in the Society.

The splendor of these European courts must have dazzled the eyes of the dark-skinned sons of the East as they journeyed through Portugal, Italy and Spain; but they were probably not aware of the tragedies that were enacted near-by in the dominions of the Most Christian King, where Catholics and Huguenots were at each other's throats; nor did they know of the fratricidal struggles in Germany that were leading up to the Thirty Years War, which was to make Christian Europe a desert; nor of the fury of Elizabeth who was at that very time putting to death the brothers of the Jesuits whom they so deeply revered. The revolutions, assassinations and sacrileges committed all through those countries would have been startling revelations of the depths to which Christian nations could descend. However, they may have been informed of it all, and could thus understand more easily the remorseless cruelty of their own pagan rulers whose victims they were so soon to be.

Cubosama, as we have seen, had been kind to the Christians, and Nobunaga had welcomed the priests to his palace and found pleasure in their conversations. He had given them a place in the beautiful city he built; but in reality he doubted the sincerity of their belief just as he disbelieved the teaching of the bonzes. In default of another deity, he had begun to worship himself, and, like, Nabuchodonosor of old, he finally exacted divine honors from his subjects. Such an attitude of mind naturally led to cruelty, and in 1586 he was murdered by one of his trusted officials who, in turn, perished in battle when Ucondono, the Christian commander of the imperial armies, overthrew him. Unwisely, perhaps, Ucondono did not assume the office of protector of the young son of Nobunaga, but left it to a man of base extraction, the terrible Taicosama, who quickly became the Shogun. At first he protected the Christians, made the provincial, Coelho, his friend and permitted the Faith to be preached throughout the empire. The chief officers of his army and navy were avowed believers.

Three years passed and the number of neophytes had doubled. There were now 300,000 Christians in Japan--among them kings and princes, and the three principal ministers of the empire. But it happened that, in the year 1589 two Christian women had refused to become inmates of Taicosama's harem, and that turned him into a terrible persecutor. Ucondono was deprived of his office and sent into exile; Father Coelho was forbidden to preach in public, and the other Jesuits were to withdraw from the country within twenty days, while every convert was ordered to abjure Christianity. The two hundred and forty churches were to be burned. The recreant son of the famous old king of Bungo gave the first notable example of apostasy, but, as often happens in such circumstances, the persecution itself won thousands of converts who, up to that, had hesitated about renouncing their idols. At this juncture, Father Valignani appeared as ambassador of the Viceroy of the Indies, and in that capacity was received with royal magnificence by Taicosama. But the bonzes, who had now regained their influence over the emperor, assured him that the embassy was only a device to evade the law, and, hence, though he accepted the presents, he did not relent in his opposition; yet in his futile expedition against China two Jesuits accompanied the troops.

Blood was first shed in the kingdom of Hirando. Fathers Carrioni and Martel were poisoned, and Carvalho and Furnaletto, who took their places, met the same fate. A fifth, whose name is lost, was killed in a similar fashion. Unfortunately, the Spanish merchants in the Philippines just at that time induced the Franciscan missionaries of those islands to go over to Japan, for the rumor had got abroad that the Jesuits in Japan had been wholly exterminated, although there were still, in reality, twenty-six of them in the country. It is true they were not in evidence as formerly, for with the exception of the two army chaplains, they were exercising their ministry secretly. Of that, however, the Spaniards were not aware and probably spoke in good faith. The Franciscans, on arriving, discovered that they had been duped in believing that the persecution was prompted by dislike of the Jesuits' personality, some of whom no doubt they met. Nevertheless, they determined to remain, and Taicosama permitted them to do so, because of the letters they carried from the Governor of the Philippines, who expressed a desire of becoming Taicosama's vassal. Meantime, a Spanish captain whose vessel had been wrecked on the coast had foolishly said that the sending of missionaries to Japan was only a device to prepare for a Portuguese and Spanish invasion. Possibly he spoke in jest, but his words were reported to Taicosama, with the result that on February 5, 1597, six Franciscans and three Jesuits were hanging on crosses at Nagasaki. The Jesuits were Paul Miki, James Kisai, and John de Goto, all three Japanese. On the same day a general decree of banishment was issued.

Just then Valignani, who had withdrawn, returned to Japan with nine more Jesuits and the coadjutor of the first bishop of Japan--the bishop having died on the way out. Valignani, who was personally very acceptable to Taicosama, was cordially received and the storm ceased momentarily; but unfortunately, Taicosama died a year afterwards and, strange to say, two Jesuit priests, Rodrigues and Organtini, who had won his affection, were with him when he breathed his last, but they failed to make any impression on his mind or heart. He left a son, and Daifusama became regent or Shogun. Fortunately, Valignani had some success in convincing him that to establish himself firmly on his throne it would be wise to extend his protection to his Christian subjects. Moreover, the King of Hirando, though at first bent on continuing the persecution, was constrained by the threatening attitude of his Christian subjects, who were very numerous and very powerful in his kingdom, to desist from his purpose, at least for a while. Probably he was assisted in this resolution by the fact that in the first year after the outburst, namely in 1599, seventy thousand more Japanese had asked for baptism. In 1603 there were 10,000 conversions in the single principality of Fingo.

Father Organtini succeeded in getting quite close to Daifusama who, to strengthen himself politically, allowed the churches to be rebuilt in the empire and even in Kioto. Unfortunately, however, in 1605 he heard that Spain was sending out a number of war vessels to subjugate the Moluccas, and fancying that its objective was really Japan, he gave orders to the Governor of Nagasaki to allow no Spanish ships to enter the harbor. To make matters worse, it happened that Valignani, who exercised an extraordinary influence on Daifusama, was not at hand to disabuse him of his error. He was then dying, and expired the next year at the age of sixty-nine. For the moment Daifusama was so much affected by the loss of his friend that he forgot his suspicions and gave full liberty to the missionaries to exercise their ministry everywhere. In fact, he summoned to his palace the famous Charles Spinola, who appears now for the first time in the country for which he was soon to shed his blood. With Spinola was Sequiera, the first bishop who had succeeded in reaching Japan. The imperial summons was eagerly obeyed by Spinola and the bishop, for such progress had already been made in the formation of a native clergy that five parishes which they had established in Nagasaki were at that time in the hands of Japanese priests, and an academy had been begun in which, besides theology, elementary physics and astronomy were taught. Organtini, who had labored in Japan for forty-nine years, had even built a foundling asylum, to continue the work which Almeida had inaugurated elsewhere. A hospital for lepers had also been started.

Nothing happened for the moment, but though outwardly favoring the missionaries, Daifusama was in his heart worried about this amazingly rapid expansion of Christianity, and when in 1612 two merchants, one from Holland and one from England, which were plotting to oust the Spanish and Portuguese from the control of the commerce of Japan, aroused his old suspicions by assuring him that the priests were in reality only the forerunners of invading armies, the old hostility flamed out anew. The opportunity to work on Daifusama's fears presented itself in a curious way. A Spanish ship had been sent from Mexico by the viceroy to see what could be done to establish trade relations with Japan, and on coming into port it was seen to be taking the usual soundings--a mysterious proceeding in the eyes of the Japanese. The fact was reported to Daifusama, who asked an English sea-captain what it meant. "Why," was the reply, "in Europe that is considered a hostile act. The captain is charting the harbor so as to allow a fleet to enter and invade Japan. These Jesuits are well known to be Spanish priests who have been hunted out of every nation in Europe as plotters and spies, and the religion they teach is only a cloak to conceal their ulterior designs."

Whether Daifusama believed this or not is hard to say, but greater men than this rude barbarian have been deceived by more ridiculous falsehoods. There was no delay. Fourteen of the most distinguished families of the empire were banished, and others awaited a like proscription. Then the persecution became general; the churches were destroyed and all the missionaries were ordered out of the empire. Daifusama died in 1616, but his son and successor outdid him in ferocity though there was a short lull on account of internal political troubles.

It was during this period that thirty-three Jesuits slipped back into the country under various disguises. Their purpose was to work secretly, so that the government would not remark their presence. Unfortunately, twenty-four Franciscans, deceived by a rumor that a commercial treaty had been made with Spain and under the impression that the root of the trouble was personal dislike for Jesuits, landed at Nagasaki at the end of the year 1616, and insisted on going out in the open and proclaiming the Gospel publicly. They reckoned without their host. A decree was issued making it a capital offense to harbor missionaries of any garb. Not only that, but it was officially announced that death would be inflicted on the occupants of the ten houses nearest the one where a missionary was discovered. The Jesuits took to the mountains and marshes to save their people, but the Franciscans defied the edict. The result was that immediate orders were issued to take every priest that could be found. Nagasaki was first ransacked. The Jesuits had all vanished except Machado; he and a Franciscan were captured, and on May 21, 1617, were decapitated. In spite of this warning, however, a Dominican and an Augustinian publicly celebrated Mass, under the very eyes of Sancho, an apostate prince who was an agent of the Shogun. The result was immediate death for both. The same useless bravado was repeated elsewhere. Different tactics, as we have said, were adopted by the Jesuits. Thus, de Angelis covered the mountains of Voxuan; Navarro and Porro lived in a cave in Bungo, and crept out when they could, to visit their scattered flocks. There was a group also on the rich island of Nippon--among them Torres, Barretto, Fernandes and a Japanese named Yukui. From this place of concealment they spread out in all directions, usually disguised as native peddlers; all of them, even in those terrible surroundings, winning many converts to the Faith.

A phenomenon not unusual in the Church, but carried to extraordinary lengths in this instance, now presented itself. Instead of striking terror into the hearts of the Christians, the very opposite result ensued. A widespread eagerness, a special devotion for martyrdom, as it were, manifested itself. Crowds gathered in every city to accompany the victims to the place of execution; the women and children put on their richest attire; songs of joy were sung and prayers aflame with enthusiasm were recited by the spectators, who kept reminding the sufferers that the scaffold was the stairway to heaven. At Kioto there was no trouble in filling out the lists of those who were to be executed. People came of themselves to give their names. Those who did not were rated as idolaters. The number ran up to several thousands and the emperor was so alarmed that he cut them down to 1700. There were fifteen Jesuits in the city. Six of them were banished, but the other nine went from place to place, keeping up the courage of their flocks. Gomes and the bishop had died in the midst of these horrors; and the duties of both devolved on Carvalho.

Unfortunately, at this juncture, a paper was found signed in blood by a number of Christians pledging themselves to fight to death against the banishment of the missionaries. That was enough for the Shogun. The Jesuits, to the number of one hundred and seventeen, with twenty-seven members of other religious orders, Augustinians, Franciscans and Dominicans, were dragged down to Nagasaki and shipped to Macao and the Philippines. With them was Ucondono, the erstwhile commander of the forces of Taicosama. On the vessels also were several families of distinguished people. Some died on the journey; and others, Ucondono among the number, gave up the ghost shortly after arriving at the Philippines. Twenty-six Jesuits and some other religious succeeded in remaining in Japan. As the provincial Carvalho, was among the exiles, he named Rodrigues as his successor, and appointed Charles Spinola to look after Nagasaki and the surrounding territory. The work had now become particularly difficult. Thus, one of these concealed apostles tells how most of his labor had to be performed at night. Often he found himself groping along unknown roads through forests and on the edges of precipices, over which he not infrequently rolled to the bottom of the abyss. Another says: "I am hiding in a hut, and a little rice is handed in to me from time to time. The place is so wet that I have got sciatica, and cannot stand or sit; most of my work is done at night, visiting my flock, while my protectors are asleep." So it was for all the rest.

The Protestant historian Kampfer is often quoted in this matter. In his "History of Japan" he says that "the persecution was the worst in all history, but did not produce the effect that the government expected. For, although, according to the Jesuit accounts, 20,570 people suffered death for the Christian religion in 1590, yet in the following years, when all the churches were closed, there were 12,000 proselytes. Japanese writers do not deny that Hideyori, Taicosama's son and intended successor, was suspected of being a Catholic, and that the greater part of the court officials and officers of the army professed that religion. The joy that made the new converts suffer the most unimaginable tortures excited the public curiosity to such an extent that many wanted to know the religion that produced such happiness in the agonies of death; and when told about it, they also enthusiastically professed it."

Spinola, who was seized at Nagasaki, was called upon to explain why he had remained in Japan, in spite of the edict. He replied: "There is a Ruler above all kings--and His word must be obeyed." The answer settled his fate, and he and two Dominicans were condemned to a frightful imprisonment. It is recorded that as the three victims approached the jail, they intoned the Te Deum, and that the refrain was taken up by a Dominican and a Franciscan who had already passed a year in that horrible dungeon. When the martyrs met inside the walls they kissed each other affectionately and fell on their knees to thank God. Leonard Kimura, a Japanese, was arrested at Nagasaki on suspicion of having concealed the son of the Shogun, and also of having killed a man while defending the prince. He was acquitted, but when withdrawing he was asked if he could give the court information about any Jesuit who might be hiding in the vicinity. "Yes, I know one," he said, "I am a Jesuit." After three years in a dungeon he was burned at the stake.

In 1619 the Jesuits, Spinola and Fernandes, with fourteen others, Dominicans and Franciscans, were brought out of prison and kept in a pen with no protection from cold or heat and so narrow that it was impossible to assume any but a crouching posture. It was hoped that by exposing them publicly, emaciated, hungry, filthy, and diseased, that the heroic element which the executions seemed to develop in the victims would be eliminated, and their converts alienated from the Faith. The contrary happened, and from that enclosure Spinola not only preached to the people, but actually admitted novices to the Society. As he stood at the stake where he was to be burned, a little boy whom he had baptized was put in his arms; Spinola blessed him, and the child and his mother were executed at the same time as their father in God. Five Jesuits died in 1619; and in 1620 six others came from Macao to replace them. Next year brought down an edict on all shipmasters, forbidding them to land such undesirable immigrants as missionaries. Nevertheless, two months after the edict was published, Borges, Costanza, de Suza, Carvalho and Tzugi, a Japanese, appeared in the disguise of merchants and soldiers. The Dutch and English traders volunteered after that to search all incoming vessels, and report the suspicious passengers. An attempt at a prison delivery precipitated the condemnation of Spinola and his companions in the pens. They were burned alive on September 10, 1622; on the 19th of the same month three more met the same fate, and in November two others went to heaven through the flames.

In 1623 de Angelis and Simon Jempo, with a number of their followers, were burned to death, after having their feet cut off. Carvalho and Buzomo were caught in a forest in mid-winter, and on February 21, 1624, were plunged naked into a pond, and left there to freeze for the space of three hours. Four days afterwards the experiment was repeated for six consecutive hours. But the night was so cold that they were both found dead in the morning, wrapped in a shroud of ice. Another Carvalho perished in the same year. Petitions were sent from the Philippines and elsewhere, imploring a cessation of these horrors, but the appeals made the Shogun more cruel. As the persecutions had produced only a few apostacies, the executioners were told to scourge the victims down to the bone, to tear out their nails, to drive rods into their flesh or ears or nose, to fling them into pits filled with venomous snakes, to cut them up piece by piece, to roast them on gridirons, to put red-hot vessels in their hands, and, what was the most diabolical of all, to consider the slightest movement or cry a sign of apostasy. Another favorite punishment was to hang the sufferer head down over a pit from which sulphurous or other fumes were rising, or to stretch them on their backs and by means of a funnel fill them full of water till the stomach almost burst, and then by jumping on the body to force the fluid out again.

It is unnecessary here to enter into all the details of these martyrdoms; but it will be enough to state that in a very few years, twenty-eight native Japanese Jesuits, besides multitudes of people who were living in the world, men, women and children, gave up their lives for the Faith, side by side with those who had come from other parts of the world to teach them how to die. In 1634 only a handful of Jesuits remained. Chief among them was Vieira. He had been sent to report conditions to Urban VIII, and in 1632 he returned to die. He re-entered Japan as a Chinese sailor, and for nearly two years hurried all over the blood-stained territory, facing death at every step, until finally he and five other Jesuits stood before the tribunal and were told to apostatize or die. Vieira, the spokesman, said: "I am 63 years old, and all my life I have received innumerable favors from Almighty God; from the emperor--nothing, and I am not going now to bow down to idols of sticks and stones to obey a mortal man like myself. So say the others." They were put to death.

In that year, however, it is painful and humiliating to be obliged to say there was a Jesuit in Japan who apostatized: Father Ferara. It was the only scandal during those terrible trials. He had even been provincial, at one time, but when the test came, he fell, and the glorious young Church was thrilled with horror at seeing a man who had once taught them the way to heaven now throwing away his soul. The shame was too much for the Society, and it resolved to wipe it out. Marcellus Mastrilli, a Neapolitan, made the first attempt to atone for the crime. No one could enter Nagasaki without trampling on the cross--a device suggested by the Dutch and English merchants. However, Mastrilli made up his mind to enter without committing the sacrilege. He succeeded, but was arrested and led through the streets of Nagasaki, with the proclamation on his back: "This madman has come to preach a foreign religion, in spite of the emperor's edict. Come and look at him. He is to die in the pit." For sixty hours he hung over the horrible opening through which the poisonous fumes continually poured. Finally he was drawn up and his head struck off. It was October 17, 1637, and Ferara was looking on. Three years afterwards a similar execution took place. There were four victims this time, and the apostate stood there again.

In 1643 the final attempt was made to win back the lost one. Father Rubini and four other Jesuits landed on a desolate coast. They were captured and dragged to Nagasaki. To their horror the judge seated at the tribunal was none other than Ferara. "Who are you, and what do you come here for?" he asked. "We are Jesuits," they answered, "and we come to preach Jesus Christ, who died for us all." "Abjure your faith," cried Ferara, "and you shall be rich and honored." "Tell that to cowards whom you want to dishonor," answered Rubini. "We trust that we shall have courage to die like Christians and like priests." Ferara fled, and the missionaries died, but the shaft had struck home, though it took nine years for Divine grace to achieve its ultimate triumph. The victory was won in 1652, when an old man of eighty was dragged before the judge at Nagasaki. "Who are you?" he was asked. "I am one," he replied, "who has sinned against the King of Heaven and earth. I betrayed Him out of fear of death. I am a Christian; I am a Jesuit." His youthful courage had returned, and for sixty hours he remained unmoved in the pit, in spite of the most excruciating torture. It was Ferara; and thus Christianity died in Japan in his blood and in that of 200,000 other martyrs. Eighty Jesuits had given their life for Christ in this battle.

This disaster in Japan has been frequently laid at the door of the Society, because of its unwillingness to form a native clergy. Those who make the cruel charge forget a very important fact. It is this: precisely at that time a native clergy was not saving England or Germany or any of the Northern nations. Not only that, but the clergy themselves first gave the example of apostasy in those countries. Secondly, it had been absolutely impossible, up to that time, to obtain a bishop in Japan to ordain any of the natives. Sixteen years had not elapsed from the moment the first Jesuits began their work in Japan, namely in 1566, when Father Oviedo, the Patriarch of Ethiopia, was appointed Bishop of Japan. But he entreated the Pope to let him die in the hardships and dangers by which he was surrounded in Africa. Father Carnero was then sent in his place, but he died when he reached Macao. In 1579 a petition was again dispatched to Rome asking for a bishop, but no answer was given. When the Japanese embassy knelt at the feet of the Pope, they repeated the request. Morales was then named, but he died on the way out. In 1596 Martines arrived with a coadjutor, Sequiera, and immediately a number of young Japanese who had been long in preparation for the priesthood were ordained; in 1605 a parish was established in Nagasaki and put in the hands of a native priest. In 1607 four more parishes were organized. Then Martines died, and in 1614 Sequiera followed him to the grave. Finally, Valente was appointed, but he never reached Japan.

Rohrbacher, the historian, was especially prominent in fastening this calumny on the Society, and when Bertrand, the author of "Mémoires sur les missions," put him in possession of these facts, not only was the charge not withdrawn, but no acknowledgment was made of the receipt of the information. As a matter of fact, it would be difficult to find in the history of the Church an example of greater solicitude to provide a native priesthood than was given by the Jesuits of Japan. The crushing out in blood of the marvellous Church which Xavier and his successors had created in that part of the world cannot be considered a failure--at least in the minds of Catholics who understand that "the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church." Nor can such a conclusion be arrived at by any one who is aware of what occurred in the city of Nagasaki as late as the year 1865.

The ports of Japan had been opened to the commerce of the world in 1859. But even then all attempts to penetrate into the interior had been hopelessly frustrated. On March 17, 1865 Father Petitjean, of the Foreign Missions, was praying, disconsolate and despondent, in a little chapel he had built in Nagasaki. No native had ever entered it. One morning he became aware of the presence of three women kneeling at his side. "Have you a Pope?" they asked. "Yes," was the answer. "Do you pray to the Blessed Virgin?" "Yes." "Are you married?" "No." "Do you take the discipline?" To the last interrogatory he replied by holding up that instrument of penance. "Then you are a Christian like ourselves." To his amazement he found that in Nagasaki and its immediate surroundings, which had been the principal theatre of the terrible martyrdoms of former times--there were no less than 2,500 native Japanese Catholics. In a second place there was a settlement of at least a thousand families, and, later on, five other groups were found in various sections of the country; and it was certain that there was a great number of others in various localities. As many as 50,000 Christians were ultimately discovered. Pius IX was so much moved by this wonderful event, that he made the 17th of March the great religious festival of the Church of Japan, and decreed that it was to be celebrated under the title of "The Finding of the Christians."

A Church that could preserve its spiritual life for over two hundred years in the midst of pagan hatred and pagan corruption, without any sacramental help but that of baptism, and without priests, without preaching, without the Holy Sacrifice, and could present itself to the world at the end of that long period of trial and privation with 50,000 Christians, the remnants of those other hundreds and hundreds of thousands who, through the centuries, had never faltered in their allegiance to Christ, was not a failure. It may be noted, moreover, that this survival of the Faith after long years of privation of the sacraments of the Church is not the exclusive glory of Japan. Other instances will be noted when the Society resumed its work after the Suppression.

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VII. THE GREAT STORMS

1580-1597

Manares suspected of ambition--Election of Aquaviva--Beginning of Spanish discontent--Denis Vásquez--The "Ratio Studiorum"-- Society's action against Confessors of Kings and Political Embassies--Trouble with the Spanish Inquisition and Philip II-- Attempts at a Spanish Schism--The Ormanetto papers--Ribadeneira suspected--Imprisonment of Jesuits by the Spanish Inquisition-- Action of Toletus--Extraordinary Congregation called--Exculpation of Aquaviva--The dispute "de Auxiliis"--Antoine Arnauld's attack --Henry IV and Jean Chastel--Reconciliation of Henry IV to the Church--Royal protection--Saint Charles Borromeo--Troubles in Venice--Sarpi--Palafox.

When Mercurian died, on August 1, 1580, Oliver Manares, who, like the deceased General, was a Belgian, called the general congregation for February 7, 1581. Two of the old companions of St. Ignatius, Salmerón and Bobadilla, were there, as were also the able coadjutor of Canisius, Hoffæus, and Claude Matthieu, the latter of whom was beginning to be conspicuous in the League against the King of Navarre. Maldonatus, also, occupied a seat in the distinguished assembly. Before the congregation met, rumors began to be heard that Manares was seeking the generalship for himself. The grounds of the suspicions seem almost too frivolous for an outsider, but in an order which had pronounced so positively against ambition in the Church, it was proper that it should be scrupulously sensitive about any act in the body itself that might resemble it. The grounds of the accusation were that he had sent a present to Father Toletus who was very close to the Pope, and had also once said to a lay-brother: "If I were General, I would do so and so." A committee was appointed to examine the case, and Manares was declared ineligible. The Pope found the action of the congregation excessively rigid, but, possibly, as in the preceding congregation it had been decided that the succession of three Spanish Generals contained in it an element of danger, so it was feared that as the dead General who had appointed one of his own race to be vicar, there might be reason for apprehension in that also. As a matter of fact, the power given to the General to appoint his vicar was by some looked upon as quite unwise, as it afforded at least a remote opportunity for self-perpetuation.

On February 19, 1581, Claudius Aquaviva was elected General of the Society by thirty-two votes out of fifty-one. He was not yet thirty-eight years of age. The Pope was astounded at the choice, but the sequel proved that it was providential. "No one," says Bartoli, "was raised to that dignity who had given more evident or more numerous signs that his election came from God, and perhaps, no one, with the exception of St. Ignatius, has a greater claim to the gratitude of the Society or has helped it more efficaciously to achieve the object for which it was founded." He was the youngest son of the Duke of Atri, and was born at Naples in 1543. As his youth was passed in his father's palace, he could at most only have heard the names of some of the companions of St. Ignatius, but when he was about twenty years of age he was sent to Rome to defend some family interest, and he attracted so much attention that he was retained at court, first by Paul IV, and afterwards by Pius V, both of whom were struck by his superior qualities of mind and heart. There for the first time he came in contact with the Jesuits. It happened that Christopher Rodriguez, John Polanco, and Francis Borgia were frequently admitted to an audience with the Holy Father, and young Aquaviva was so drawn to them when he heard them speaking of Divine things, that he began to make inquiries about their manner of life and the rule they followed. He felt called to join them but he hesitated a while, for the Roman purple was an honor that was assured him; finally, however, he made up his mind, and after the Pontifical Mass on St. Peter's day he fell at Borgia's feet and asked for admission to the Society. When Ormanetto, the papal legate, heard of it, he exclaimed: "The Apostolic College has lost its finest ornament."

Nine years later, Aquaviva was made rector of the Roman Seminary, and then, by a strange coincidence, became rector of the College of Naples, as successor of Dionisio Vásquez, who later on was to be very conspicuous in an attempt by the Spanish members to disrupt the Society, and thus occasion the bitterest trial of Aquaviva's administration as General. After rapidly repairing the ruin that Vásquez had caused in Naples, Aquaviva was made provincial, and was then entrusted with the care of the Roman province. He had served in that capacity only a year when he was elected General. Some years before that, Nadal must have foreseen the promotion when he advised Aquaviva to make the Constitutions of Saint Ignatius his only reading. "You will stand very much in need of it," he said. The congregation formulated sixty-nine decrees, one of which gave the General power to appoint his vicar, and another to interpret the Constitutions. Such interpretations, however, were not to have the force of law, but were to be considered merely as practical directions for government. Another decree regulated the method to be followed in the dissolution of houses and colleges.

Aquaviva's first letter to the Society was concerned chiefly with the qualities which superiors should possess--especially those of vigilance, sweetness and strength. His second was more universal, and dealt with the necessity of a constant renewal of the spiritual life. To him the Society is indebted for the "Directorium," or guide of the Spiritual Exercises.

Under his administration the "Ratio Studiorum," or scheme of studies, was produced. It was the result of fifteen years of collaboration (1584-99) by a number of the most competent scholars that could be found in the Society. It covers the whole educational field from theology down to the grammar of the lower classes, exclusive, however, of the elements. Of course, this "Ratio" has not escaped criticism, for scarcely anything the Society ever attempted has had that good fortune. Thus, to take one out of many, Michelet bemoans the fact that "the Ratio has been; in operation for 300 years and has not yet produced a man." Such a charge, of course, does not call for discussion.

The greatest service that Aquaviva rendered the Society, 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 and to rob it of that Catholicity which constitutes its glory and its power.

He began his work by making it impossible, as far as it lay in his power, for a Jesuit to be used as the tool of any prince or potentate, no matter how dazzling might be the dignity with which one so employed was invested, or the glory which his work reflected on the Society. Thus, he put his ban on the office of royal confessor, which some of the members of the Society in those days were compelled to accept. He could not prevent it absolutely just then, but he laid down such stringent laws regarding it, that all ambition or desire of that very unapostolic work was eliminated. Its inconveniences were manifest. It is inconceivable, for instance, that a sovereign like Henry IV, who was a devoted friend of the Society, ever consulted Father Coton about scruples of conscience; for his majesty was never subject to spiritual worry of that description; and on the other hand, the unfortunate confessor was often suspected or accused of influencing or advising political measures with which he could have had nothing whatever to do. Jealousy also, of those who were appointed to the office was inevitable, and dislike and hatred not only of the individual who occupied the post, but of the order to which he belonged was aroused. Even the confessor's own relatives and friends were alienated, because he was forbidden to make use of his spiritual influence for their worldly advantage. Finally, apart from the loss of time, daily contact with the vice of the court, which he could not openly reprehend, necessarily reacted on the spiritual tone of the religious himself.

The same objections obtained for the flamboyant embassies which had been so much in vogue up to that time, and which are still quoted as evidencing the wonderful influence wielded by the Society in those days. They, too, were stopped, for the reason that although they were nearly always connected with the interests of the Faith, yet they were very largely controlled by worldly politics. Hence Possevin, who had made such a stir by his embassies to Muscovy, Sweden, Poland and elsewhere, was relegated to a class-room in Padua. Matthieu, who figured conspicuously in the politico-religious troubles of France as the "Courier de la Ligue," was told to desist from his activities, although Pope Sixtus V judged otherwise; and finally, the most famous orator of his day in France, Father Auger, who was loud in his denunciation of the Holy League, received peremptory orders to desist from discussing the subject at all. His quick obedience to the command was the best sermon he ever preached.

Aquaviva had also a very protracted struggle with Philip II in relation to the Spanish Inquisition. The king had frequently expressed a desire to have a Jesuit in one or other of the conspicuous offices of that tribunal, but Aquaviva stubbornly refused, first, because of the odium attached to the Inquisition itself, and also because he suspected that Philip designed, by that means, to lay hold of the machinery of the Society and control it. His most glorious battle, however, was one that was fought in the Society itself, against an organized movement which was making straight for the destruction of the great work of St. Ignatius. It is somewhat of a stain on the splendid history of the Order, but it should not be concealed or palliated or explained away, for it not only reveals the masterful generalship of Aquaviva, but it also brings out, in splendid relief, the magnificent resisting power of the organization itself.

The Spanish Jesuits were profoundly shocked when the Pope prevented the perpetuation of Spanish rule in the Society. The psychological reason of their surprise was that the average Spaniard at that time was convinced that Spain alone was immune from heresy. As a matter of fact, all the other nations of Europe, Ireland excepted, had been infected, and possibly it was a mistaken loyalty to the Church that prompted a certain number of them to organize a plot to make the Society exclusively Spanish or destroy it.

It will come as a painful discovery for many that the originator of this nefarious scheme was Father Araoz, the nephew of St. Ignatius. Astrain (II, 101) regrets to admit it, but the documents in his hands make it imperative. He quotes letters which show that even in the time of St. Ignatius, Araoz complained of the Roman administration, putting the blame, however, on Polanco. His discontent was more manifest under Laínez, when he maintained that the General should not be elected for life; that provincials and rectors should be voted for, as in other Orders; that there should be a general chapter in Spain to manage its own affairs, and not only that no foreigner should be admitted to a Spanish province, but that there should not even be any communication with non-Spaniards in other sections of the Society. One would not expect such Knownothingism in a Jesuit, but the documents setting forth these facts which were found among the papers of Araoz after his death make it only too manifest. They contain among other things accounts of the opposition of Araoz to Laínez, to Francis Borgia, and to Nadal, none of which is very pleasant reading.

In a letter unearthed by Antonio Ibáñez, the visitor of the province of Toledo, Araoz goes on to say: "(1) We must petition the Pope and ask that all religious orders in Spain shall have a Spanish general, independent of the one in Rome, so as to avoid the danger of heresy. (2) No Spaniard living outside of Spain should be elected general, commissary or visitor in Spain. (3) As there is such a diversity of customs and usages in each nation, they should not mix with one another. (4) General congregations expose the delegates to act as spies for the enemy. (5) The king should write to the cardinal protector of the religious orders not to oppose this plan." Other papers by Spanish Jesuits were found among those of Ormanetto, nuncio at Madrid, who died on June 17, 1577. They call for drastic changes, in the difference of grades, the manner of electing superiors, dismissals from the Society, and such matters. The authorship of the Ormanetto papers could not be determined with certainty, but suspicion fell upon Father Solier, and for a time, even upon Ribadeneira who, at that time, was in Madrid for his health, and was in the habit of calling frequently at the nunciature with Solier. In the following year, it was admitted that the suspicion about him was unfounded. As a matter of fact, he subsequently wrote a denunciation of the conspiracy and a splendid defense of the Institute. That King Philip knew what was going on was revealed by certain remarks he let drop, such as: "Your General does not know how to govern; we need a Spanish superior independent of the General; we have able men here like Ribadeneira and others, etc."

At the end of 1577 it was discovered that Father Dionisio Vásquez, who was of Jewish extraction, was disseminating these ideas by letter and by word of mouth. The friendship that existed between him and Ribadeneira from childhood again threw a cloud over the latter, but finally the provincial learned from Vásquez himself that Ribadeneira knew nothing at all about the whole affair. By that time the names of the chief plotters were revealed, and it was also discovered that Vásquez had given one copy of his memorial to the king and another to the Inquisition. Two more had been shown to various other people. Vásquez alleged eight reasons for this attempt to change the character of the Society: (1) Because the General had to treat with so many depraved and heretical nations, that there was a danger of contaminating the whole Society. (2) Money and subjects were being taken from Spain to benefit other provinces. (3) If any one was in danger of being punished by the Inquisition it was easy to send the culprit elsewhere. (4) Rome was governing by means of information which was frequently false. (5) There were delays in correspondence. (6) As the General never left Rome, he could not visit his subjects. (7) When the king asks for missionaries, Rome often answers that there are none to send. (8) There should be a commissary in Spain, because Spaniards are badly treated in Rome. Astrain notes that these pretences of the danger of heresy, respect for the Inquisition, and the needs of satisfying the king's demands for missionaries were devised merely to win the favor of Philip. Another conspirator whose name appears is Estrada. He is described by the provincial as a "novus homo whose conversation is pestilential."

There was no public manifestation of this spirit of schism in the first years of Aquaviva's Generalship, though in Spain a great deal of underhand plotting was going on between some of the discontented ones and the Inquisition. Four persons, however, had caused grave anxiety to their Superiors, namely: Dionisio Vásquez, Francisco de Abreo, Gonzalo González and Enrique Enríquez. Following in their wake, came Alonso Polanco, nephew of the famous Polanco, José de San Julian, Diego de Santa Cruz, and a certain number of inconspicuous persons whose names it is not necessary to give. In the background, however, there were two men of considerable importance: Mariana, whose writings have given so much trouble to the Society, and José de Acosta. To these Jouvancy in his "Epitome" and Prat in his "Ribadeneira" add the name of Jerome de Acosta, but according to Astrain, the two historians are in error both as to the character of Jerome and his participation in the plot. He was, indeed, suspected of being mixed up in it, but the suspicion was soon dispelled, as in the case of Ribadeneira. Manuel López was at most a suspect, because he was a friend and admirer of Araoz and because, although the oldest man in the province, he gave no aid to the defenders of the Institute. When the fight was ended, however, he pronounced for those who had won.

Meantime Enríquez, by means of false accusations, had induced the Inquisition to put in prison on various charges Fathers Marcen, Lavata, López and the famous Ripalda. That tribunal also expelled others from Valladolid and Castile, and called for the Bulls, the privileges, and the "Ratio studiorum" of the Society. The findings of the judges were put before the king, and the Inquisition then demanded all the copies of the aforesaid documents that the Fathers had (Astrain, III, 376). So far the inquisitors were safe, but they took one step more which ruined the plot in which they were conscious or unconscious participators. Under pain of excommunication they forbade a band of thirty Jesuit missionaries who were on their way to Transylvania to leave Spain, the reason being that they endangered their faith in embarking on such an enterprise. It was the plotter, Enrique Enríquez who suggested this piece of idiocy. When Sixtus V, who was then Pope, heard of the order, he sent such a vigorous reprimand to the Inquisition that all the confiscated papers were immediately restored and the imprisoned theologians were liberated from jail after two years' confinement.

But the enemy was not yet beaten. Anonymous petitions kept pouring in upon the Inquisition, "all of them," says Astrain, "bearing the stamp of the atrabilious Vásquez, the rigorist González, the under-handed Enríquez, and the sombre Abreo." Besides the old demands, a new one was made, namely, the investigation of the Society by an official of the Inquisition. Finally, in the provincial congregation of 1587, the hand of Vásquez was visible when a general congregation was asked for unanimously and a request made for a procurator for the Spanish provinces. Meantime, Philip had been wrought upon and he supported the petition for the visit of an inquisitor, who was none other than D. Jerónimo Manrique, the Bishop of Cartagena, a choice which shows that these Jesuit insurrectos were not gifted with the shrewdness usually attributed to their brethren. For apart from the odiousness of having an unfriendly outsider investigate, it so happened that Manrique had a very unsavory past, and when that was called to the attention of Sixtus, the whole foolish project collapsed of itself, and King Philip confessed his defeat.

All this finally convinced Sixtus V that there was something radically wrong with the Society, and he ordered the Congregation of the Holy Office (the Roman Inquisition) to examine the Constitutions. Aquaviva protested that it was unjust to judge the Order from anonymous writings, many of them forgeries by a single individual; and that the faults were alleged not with a view to correction, but to alter the Institute radically. With regard to the proposal of a capitular government, several objectionable consequences, he said, must follow, such as ambition, simony, laxity of discipline, and the like, and he emphasized the fact that Sixtus himself, only a short time before, had urged the appointment of Italian superiors in France. He convinced the Pope, also, that the exclusiveness advocated by the Spaniards, in refusing subjects from other parts of the world would soon shrivel up the Spanish provinces themselves. Finally, a capitular government in missionary countries was a physical impossibility, and would disrupt the whole Order. Indeed, when Cardinal Colonna mentioned the word "capitular" to the Pope, His Holiness interjected: "I don't want chapters in the Society. You would have one in every city and every family; and that does not suit the system of the Jesuits."

While this was going on, letters were received from the Emperor Rodolf, King Sigismond, the Duke of Bavaria, and other princes and distinguished personages, entreating the Pope to make no change in the Institute. 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. At that, the Pope relented and declared that he never had any intention of changing the Institute. What he chiefly desired was to prevent certain Jesuits from interfering in politics more than was proper--an allusion, in Sacchini's opinion, to Possevin and Auger, who had already been retired by the General. Sixtus had apparently changed his mind about these semi-political occupations.

Thus ended the year 1589, but the year 1590 had new troubles in store. 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. They were more timid than the cardinals. By deduction from Aquaviva's argument against the findings, the first complaint was about the name: "The Society of Jesus." Then follow the various matters of stipends, penances, the profession, the examinations for grade, doctrines, the eighth rule of the Summary forbidding assistance to relatives, obedience, the account of conscience, delay of profession, fraternal correction, censors, and simple vows. Astrain gives Aquaviva's answer to all these charges in detail (III, 465). The cardinals, without exception, admitted Aquaviva's rebuttal, and when they gave the Pope their verdict, he said: "All of you, even those who are of my own creation, favor these Fathers." One thing, however, he insisted on, and that was the change of name, and he therefore ordered Aquaviva to send in a formal request to that effect. There was nothing to do but to submit, and the Pope signed the Brief, but as the bell of San Andrea summoned the novices to litanies that night, Sixtus died, and ever since the tradition runs in Rome that if the litany bell rings when the Pope is sick, his last hour has come. As was to be expected, the Society was accused of having had something to do with the Pope's opportune demise. The successor of Sixtus tore up the Brief, and the Society kept its name.

In spite of all this, the battle continued. Clement VIII succeeded Sixtus V on January 29, 1592, and his election was welcomed by the Spanish rebels, for he was credited with a personal antipathy to Aquaviva. Hence they revived Philip's interest in the matter. His ambassador at Rome was more than friendly to the project, and it was confidently hoped that the great Spanish Jesuit, Toletus, the friend of the Pope, could be won over. The fact that, at the suggestion of Aquaviva, the Pope had rendered a decision about the sacrament of Penance which the Inquisition regarded as an infringement of its rights, again brought that tribunal into the fray. The new plan of the conspirators was, first, to re-assert the claims advanced by Vasquez the year before, and failing that, to demand, at least, a commissary general for Spain. They wrote to Philip asking for his authorization and support. When Aquaviva was apprised of all this, he requested the king to name anyone he chose to pass on the proposal for a commissary. Philip picked out Loyasa, the instructor of the heir apparent; but he, after examining the question, bluntly told the insurgents: "I do not at all share your opinion, and I am positive that Ignatius, like St. Dominic and St. Francis, was inspired by God in the foundation of his Order. One Pope is enough to govern the Church, and one General ought to be enough for the Society." Foiled in this, they induced the Pope and the king to compel the General to call a general congregation; and in order to make it easier to carry out their plot, they persuaded the Pope to send Aquaviva to settle a dispute between the Dukes of Parma and Mantua, thus keeping him out of Rome for three whole months. Toletus is accused of having been a party to this removal of Aquaviva, but the proof adduced is not convincing. At Naples, Aquaviva fell seriously ill, and the Fathers demanded his recall. It was only on his return that he began to appreciate the full extent and bearing of the movement as well as the peril in which the Society was involved. For although all the cardinals were on his side, yet arrayed against him were the king, the Pope and a number of the professed. The case seemed hopeless. Finally, Toletus informed him that the Pope insisted on a general congregation and it was summoned for November 4, 1593.

To make matters worse, Toletus was then made cardinal; whereupon the insurgents asked the Pope to authorize José Acosta and some of his associates to enter the congregation--a privilege they had no claim to--and also to have Toletus preside. The congregation began its sessions on the day appointed. There were sixty-three professed present among them Acosta, but Aquaviva, not Toletus, was in the chair. The usual committee was appointed for the business of the congregation, and Aquaviva insisted that they should begin by investigating the complaints against his administration. They did so, and were amazed to find that all the charges were based on false impressions, personal prejudices, and imaginary acts. They were naturally indignant and when they reported to the Pope, he said: "They wanted to find a culprit and they have discovered a saint." The demands of the Spaniards were then examined. According to Jouvancy, the province of Castile fathered them. They were in the main: a modification of the time and manner of profession; the abolition of grades; the introduction of a new mode of dismissal; and the full use of the "Bulla Cruciata."

The business of the congregation was conducted as usual up to the twenty-first decree. Philip II of Spain had asked that the members of the Society should not avail themselves of the privileges accorded them--first of reading prohibited books; secondly, of absolving from heresy; thirdly, of exemption from honors and dignities outside the Society. The twenty-first decree states that the first two royal requests had already been acted upon. With regard to the third, it was decreed that his majesty should be entreated to use his authority against the acceptance of ecclesiastical and civic honors by members of the Society. It was only in the fifty-second decree that the Society expressed its mind on the race question, by ruling that applicants of Hebrew and Saracenic origin were not to be admitted to the Society. It even declared that those who were admitted through error should be expelled if the error were discovered prior to their profession. It had been found that out of the twenty-seven conspirators, twenty-five were of Jewish or Moorish extraction.

The twenty-seven guilty men were denounced as "false sons, disturbers of the common peace, and revolutionists (architecti rerum novarum) whose punishment had been asked for by many provinces. The congregation, therefore, while grievously bewailing the loss of its spiritual sons, was nevertheless compelled in the interests of domestic union, religious obedience, and the perpetuation of the Society, to employ a severe remedy in the premises." After recounting their charges against the Society, and their claim to be "the whole Society," although they were only a few "degenerate sons" the decree denounces them and their accomplices as having incurred the censures and penalties contained in the Apostolic Bulls, and orders them to be expelled from the Society. "If for one reason or another, they cannot be immediately dismissed they were declared incapable of any office or dignity and denied all active or passive voice." It also orders that "those suspected of being parties to such machinations shall make a solemn oath to support the Constitution as approved by the Popes, and to do nothing against it. If they refuse to take the oath, or having taken it, fail to keep it, they are to be expelled, even if old and professed."

Aquaviva had thus triumphed all along the line. He had not only saved the Institute, but had received the power of expelling every one of the insurgents if they refused the oath of submission. Acosta, the leading rebel, was one of the chief sufferers; although he was the representative of Philip II, he was struck, like his associates, by the condemnation. The one who was punished, most, however, was Toletus, who like Acosta had a Jewish strain, which may explain the moroseness which the delegates remarked whenever they met him, and also his complaints that "the proceedings of the Congregation could not have been worse ... that it had treated Philip like a valet."

Toletus, however, continued to fight. On January 12 he advised Aquaviva to propose the discussion of a change of assistants and a sexennial congregation. A commission was immediately formed to wait on the Pope, but it failed to see him; whereupon Toletus appeared on January 14 and informed the General that the two points should be regarded as settled without discussion. Accordingly, four days later, new assistants were elected, but the law of the six-year convocations became a dead letter. On January 8 Toletus had presented a document to the Pontiff urging nine different changes in the Constitutions, adding that Philip II had asked for them, though in reality the king had only asked that they should be discussed. Doubtless Toletus had misunderstood. Fortunately, the Pope would not admit all of the changes, but suggested to the congregation four harmless ones--first, that except for the master of novices, the term of office should be three years; second, that at the end of their term the provincials should give an account of their administration; third that the papal reservations should be observed; and fourth, that the assistants should have a deciding vote. The three first were readily accepted, and the fourth respectfully rejected. The remaining business was then expedited, and the congregation adjourned on January 19, 1594.

The conspirators, however, had not yet been beaten. They proposed to the Pope to appoint Aquaviva Archbishop of Capua. Of course, Aquaviva refused, and then it was cunningly suggested that it would be an excellent thing if the General, in the interests of unity and peace, should visit the Spanish provinces. Philip III, who was now on the throne, had been approached, and he wrote to the Pope to that effect. Clement rather favored the proposition, but Henry IV of France, Sigismund of Poland, the Archdukes Ferdinand and Matthias and other German princes protested. Then the Pope took the matter under consideration, but before he reached any conclusion he died, and the plot was thus thwarted.

The one who planned this visit to Spain was the plotter Mendoza. His purpose was simply to humiliate the General by confronting him with the king, the greatest nobles of the realm and the Inquisition, and then to force from him all sorts of permissions which were in direct violation of the methods of Jesuit life. The story, as it appears in Astrain, is simply amazing. Mendoza had actually procured from the Pope, through the magnates of Spain, permission to receive and spend money as he wished, to be free from all superiors, and to go and live wherever he chose. When Aquaviva protested to the Pope that such permissions were subversive of all religious discipline, His Holiness suggested a way out of the difficulty, which took every one by surprise--Mendoza was made Bishop of Cuzco in Peru. This interference of rich and powerful outsiders in the family life of the Society, as well as the shameful way in which some of the members sought the favor of men of great influence in the State may explain how, after the angry fulminations of the congregation against the Spanish plotters, it took several years to get even a few of them out of the Society.

The dispute, known as the "De Auxiliis," which raged with great theological fury for many years, had for its object the reconciliation of Divine grace with human freedom. "The Dominicans maintained that the difficulty was solved by their theory of physical premotion and predetermination, whereas the Jesuits found the explanation of it in the Scientia media whereby God knows in the objective reality of things what a man would do in any circumstances in which he might be placed. The Dominicans declared that this was conceding too much to free will, and that it tended towards Pelagianism, while the Jesuits complained that the Dominicans did not sufficiently safeguard human liberty and hence seemed to lean towards the doctrines of Calvin" (Astrain). It was not until 1588, that Luis de Molina, whose name is chiefly connected with the doctrine of the Scientia media, got into the fight. Domingo Ibánez, the Dominican professor at Salamanca, was his chief antagonist. The debates continued for five years, and by that time there were public disturbances in several Spanish cities. Clement VIII then took the matter in his own hands, and forbade any further discussion till the Holy See had decided one way or the other. The opinions of universities and theologians were asked for, but by 1602 no conclusion had been arrived at, and between that year and 1605, sixty-eight sessions had been held with no result. Thus it went on till 1607, when the Pope decided that both parties might hold their own opinions, but that each should refrain from censuring the other. In 1611, by order of the Pope, the Inquisition issued a decree forbidding the publication of any book concerning efficacious grace until further action by the Holy See. The prohibition remained in force during the greater part of the seventeenth century. The principal theologians who appeared on the Jesuit side of this controversy were Toletus, Bellarmine, Lessius, Molina, Padilla, Valencia, Arubal, Bastida and Salas.

While these constitutional and theological wars were at their height a discussion of quite another kind was going on in the immediate surroundings of the General. It was to determine what amount of prayer and penitential exercises should be the normal practice of the Society. Maggio and Alarcón, two of the assistants, were for long contemplations and great austerities, while Hoffæus and Emmanuel Rodrigues advocated more sobriety in those two matters. Aquaviva decided for a middle course, declaring that the Society was not established especially for prayer and mortification, but, on the other hand, that it could not endure without a moderate use of these two means of Christian perfection. As this was coincident with the Spanish troubles, these five holy men were like the old Roman senators who were speculating on the improvement of the land which was still occupied by the Carthaginian armies. Meantime, another storm was sweeping over the Society in France.

When Henry IV entered Paris in triumph, his former enemies, the Sorbonne and the parliament, hastened to pay him homage; but something had to be done to make the public forget their previous attitude in his regard. The usual device was resorted to of denouncing the Jesuits. A complaint was manufactured against the College of Clermont, about the infringement of someone's property rights, and the rector was haled to court to answer the charge. The orator for the plaintiffs was Antoine Arnauld, the father of the famous Antoine and Angélique, who were to be, later on, conspicuous figures in the Jansenist heresy. Absolutely disregarding the point at issue, Arnauld launched out in a fierce diatribe against the Jesuits in general; "those trumpets of war," he called them, "those torches of sedition; those roaring tempests that are perpetually disturbing the calm heavens of France. They are Spaniards, enemies of the state, the authors of all the excesses of the League, whose Bacchanalian and Catalinian orgies were held in the Jesuit college and church. The Society is the workshop of Satan, and is filled with traitors and scoundrels, assassins of kings and public parricides. Who slew Henry III? The Jesuits. Ah, my King!" he cried, "when I contemplate thy bloody shirt, tears flow from my eyes and choke my utterance." And yet every one knew that it was his own clients, the Sorbonne and the parliament, who were the centre of all "the orgies of the League"; that it was they who had glorified the assassin of Henry III as a hero, and made the anniversary of his murder a public holiday; that it was they who had heaped abuse on Henry IV, and had sworn that he never should ascend the throne of France, even if he were absolved from heresy by the Pope, and had returned to the Faith. The travesty of truth in this discourse is so glaring that Frenchmen often refer to it as "the second original sin of the Arnauld family," the source, namely, of its ineradicable habit of misrepresentation.

A short time after this, Jean Chastel struck Henry IV with a knife and cut him slightly on the lip. Immediately everyone recalled Arnauld's furious denunciation of the Jesuits, and a descent was made on the college. A scrap of paper was conveniently found in the library, incriminating the custodian, but the volumes upon volumes of denunciations which had been uttered in the university and in parliament, and which were piled upon the library shelves, were not discovered. The scrap of paper sufficed. The college was immediately confiscated, the inmates expelled from France, and after Jean Chastel had been torn asunder by four horses, Father Guéret was stretched on the rack and Father Guignard was hanged. This occurred at the end of December, 1594.

Up to this Henry IV had not yet been reconciled to the Church, for the Pope doubted his sincerity and refused to withdraw the excommunication which the king had incurred at the time of his relapse. At last, however, owing to the persistency of Father Possevin and of Cardinal Toletus, he was absolved from his heresy, and could be acknowledged, with a safe conscience by all Catholics, as the legitimate King of France. The action of Toletus in this matter is all the more remarkable from the fact that he was a Spaniard, and in espousing the cause of Henry he was turning his back on his own sovereign, who was using all his power to prevent the reconciliation. This service was publicly recognized by Henry who thanked the Cardinal for his courageous act, and when Toletus died elaborate obsequies were held by the king's orders in the cathedrals of Paris and Rheims. Of course, the appeal of the banished Jesuits was then readily listened to by the king. He restored Clermont to them; gave them other colleges, including the royal establishment of La Flèche, and was forever after their devoted helper and friend. It must have been a great consolation for Father Aquaviva, during the battle he was waging and from which he was to emerge triumphant, to be told of this support of Henry; and also to hear of the welcome the Society had received in loyal Belgium in spite of the persistent animosity of Louvain. Almost every city had been asking for a college.

About this time, the Jesuits lost a devoted friend in the person of St. Charles Borromeo, who died in 1584. It is a calumny to say that he had turned against them and had taken the seminary of Milan from their direction. It was they themselves who had asked to be relieved of the responsibility, for he had so multiplied their colleges in his diocese, that it was impossible to give the seminary the attention it required. It is true that he was grievously offended by one individual Jesuit who injected himself into a controversy that was going on between the governor and the archbishop, and assailed the great prelate in the pulpit of the very church which had been given to the Society by Borromeo; but Aquaviva quickly brought him to the cardinal's feet to ask forgiveness, and then suspended him for two years from preaching. That incident, however, in no way diminished the affection of the saint for the Society. His last Mass was said in the Jesuit novitiate which he had founded, and he died in the arms of his Jesuit confessor, Father Adorno, two days afterwards.

Seven years later, on June 21, 1591, another saint died, the young Aloysius Gonzaga. Borromeo knew him well, and had given him his first Communion. This boy saint was not only an angel of purity, but also a martyr of charity, for he died of a fever he had caught from the victims of a plague whom he was attending during a pestilence that devastated Italy. The venerable Bellarmine was his confessor and spiritual father, and, later, when he was about to expire, he said to those around him: "Bury me at the feet of Aloysius Gonzaga."

There was still another trouble before Aquaviva, for while the disturbances were going on in France and Spain, a storm arose in Venice. The Society had been expelled from the republic; but it is to its credit to have been hated by the government that ruled Venice at that time. The republic had become embroiled with the Holy See, and war was imminent. The Pope put the city under interdict, and as the Jesuits who were established there submitted to the injunction, they were all exiled; their property was confiscated, and they were forbidden ever to return. This treatment was in keeping with the traditions of the government of "a republic," as some one had said, "which in reality was a monarchy tempered by assassination." Hallam (Hist. of Europe during the Middle Ages, iii, 144) insists that "it had all the pomp of a monarchy; and its commerce with the Mohammedans had deadened its sense of religious antipathy." Its action in this instance is ascribed to the influence of the Servite friar, Paolo Sarpi, whom the apostate Bishop de Dominis and Duplessis-Mornay, the chief of the French Huguenots at that time, describe as "another Calvin." He was in league with the Dutch and English to create a schism by defying the Pope, and to convert Venice into a Protestant republic. He is also the author of the virulent and calumnious "History of the Council of Trent."

Henry IV of France interested himself in this quarrel, and finally succeeded in having the papal and Venetian representatives meet to discuss their grievances. After protracted negotiations, the republic finally came to terms, but on one condition, namely that the Jesuits should not be allowed to return. As both the Pope and Henry absolutely refused to admit that clause, a deadlock ensued, until Aquaviva declared himself unwilling to allow any such difficulty to stand in the way of reconciliation: and as a consequence, the Society did not return to Venice until after fifty years of exile. Henry, however, had his revenge on Sarpi. He intercepted a letter written by a minister of Geneva to a Calvinist in Paris which revealed the fact that the Doge and several senators had already made arrangements to introduce the Reformation into Venice; and that Sarpi and his associate, Fulgenzio, had formed a secret society of more than a thousand persons, among whom were three hundred patricians, who were merely awaiting the signal to abandon the Church (Daru, Hist. de la république de Venise). The letter was read in the Senate, and many a guilty face grew pale. That was the end of Sarpi's influence. It was, probably also Henry IV who prevented him from going to England when the friar wrote to Casaubon to provide him a home there in case he had to leave Venice. In view of all that Henry IV had done for the Society, the sixth general congregation voted unanimously and enthusiastically to establish a French assistancy in the Society as an expression of gratitude to the monarch.

In Mexico the storm evoked by Palafox did not, it is true, result in expulsions, confiscations and executions as elsewhere, nevertheless it was deadly in its effects; and a century later it furnished the Jansenists of Europe with an exhaustless supply of calumnies against the Society. Its arraignment by Palafox was particularly efficacious because it expressed the mind of a distinguished functionary of the Church who was held by some to be a saint and whose canonization was insisted on by the politicians and nobility of Spain.

The character of this extraordinary personage has always been a mystery, and perhaps it would have been better or, at least, more comfortable to have left it in its shroud instead of revealing the truth about his life. He tells us himself in his "Vida interior" that his university days were wild; but though the text is explicit enough, it may be a pious exaggeration. In 1628 occurred what he calls his conversion. He made a general confession and determined to embrace an ecclesiastical career. His preparation for it was amazingly brief, and we find him soon occupying the post of grand almoner of the Princess Mary, whom he accompanied to Germany. On his return to Spain, he resumed his occupation as fiscal, and in 1639 was consecrated Bishop of Puebla in Mexico and, in the following year, was sent to America with the most extravagant plenipotentiary powers. Besides being Bishop of Puebla, he was simultaneously administrator of the vacant see of the city of Mexico and visitor of the audiencia of the colony, with the absolute right to depose any civil official whom he judged unsuitable.

He did not wait long to exercise his power, and in 1641, to the consternation of everyone, he flung out of office no less a personage than the viceroy himself who was universally esteemed for his upright and virtuous life. By this extraordinary act, Palafox became practically viceroy and captain general, while retaining his ecclesiastical dignities. In a few months, however, the new viceroy, Salvatierra, arrived. Palafox was soon to clash with him also, by blocking all the official work of the audiencia; holding up despatches, delaying decisions, absenting himself from the city, etc. For five years complaints against him poured into Spain but without effecting any change. Salvatierra even accused him of malversation in office, particularly in its finances and added that his whole occupation seemed to consist in writing the Life of St. Peter. His ecclesiastical government was no less disorderly. To gain the favor of those around him he transformed the Indian missions into parishes and put them in charge of priests who were absolutely ignorant both of the habits and language of the natives. The motive back of this change was that as mere mission posts the Indian settlements paid no tithes.

During all this time he continued to proclaim himself a friend of the Jesuits, but in 1641 when a canon of the cathedral wanted to make over a farm to the College of Vera Cruz, he was forbidden to do so under pain of excommunication unless the property was made subject to tithes. When the canon submitted the case to the audiencia he of course, lost it, because Palafox was the visitor of that tribunal. A further appeal was then made to the council of the Indies, but after two years of litigation the case was dropped without a decision. In the course of this contest, Palafox wrote in his plea that the Jesuits were enormously wealthy, while the cathedral of Puebla was destitute of resources. When Father Calderón refuted these assertions, the bishop was wrought up to fury and laid down as a diocesan rule that, under pain of excommunication, no property transfers could be made to religious orders unless this tithe clause was inserted, and he enjoined that the sick and dying should be admonished of that censure. He followed this up by sending an order to all the Jesuits to deliver up their faculties for inspection within twenty-four hours, under penalty of excommunication. Their reply was that they would have to refer the matter to the provincial. This was, according to Astrain, a grave act of imprudence on the part of the Fathers, and such, later on, was the ruling of the Roman Congregation and of the Pope himself.

Of course, in the rigor of the law the bishop had an absolute right to demand the faculties of all the priests of his diocese, but in the concrete it is hard to blame the action of the Fathers in this instance. They did not refuse, but merely wanted time to lay the case before their superior. Moreover, the action of the bishop was altogether out of the ordinary. Up to that time, his own confessor was a Jesuit, and faculties had been issued by the bishop to several others of the Society; during his incumbency he had employed them in various missions of the diocese, he had invited them to preach in his cathedral; and, indeed, they had been using their faculties to confess and preach ever since 1572. It is true that some of their original privileges had been modified or curtailed, but in these two principal functions no radical change had been made. Might they not then have thought that, in view of what the bishop had already done both in civil and ecclesiastical matters, he was mentally deranged? The average man of the world would have arrived at that conclusion.

At all events, the faculties were not forthcoming within the twenty-four hours, and all the Jesuit priests of Puebla not only found themselves dishonored and disgraced by being held up to the people as excommunicated, but by this act of the bishop doubt was thrown upon the validity of all the absolutions they had given in the administration of the sacrament of Penance. Astrain tells us that Father Legaspi attempted to preach in the Jesuit church, and when forbidden to do so by a messenger from the bishop's palace, refused to obey, but apart from the fact that this would be in absolute contradiction with the traditional instincts and training of any Jesuit, Astrain himself relates in the following chapter that the Roman Congregation which examined the whole miserable quarrel decided that Legaspi's sermon was delivered before and not after the prohibition. Recourse was then had to a privilege accorded to the Spanish colonies of constituting a commission of judges to consider and decide the case. This also was subsequently condemned by the Roman Congregation and by Innocent X, but on the other hand, communication with Rome was difficult in those days, and the course entered upon was taken with the approval of the heads of other religious orders, of the viceroy and of the cabildo or mayor. It is true that efforts should have been made to placate the angry prelate, but the documents show that the most humble supplications had been made to him only to be repulsed with abuse.

It would have been futile to refer the case to the audiencia, for Palafox controlled it absolutely. Moreover, it was urged that the plea presented to the commission did not regard merely the wholesale suspension and excommunication, but other grievances as well. There were twenty-nine in all. The commission brought in a verdict against the bishop, but he refused to recognize the authority and even excommunicated the members of the court who, with what Father General Caraffa described as an "exorbitancia grande," had excommunicated the prelate. Then the whole city was in an uproar and Palafox rode through the throngs of the excited populace conjuring them to keep the peace, but at the same time preventing it by proceeding to the cathedral, and, amid the most lugubrious ceremonies and in full pontificals, excommunicating all his opponents. The Mexican Inquisition now intervened and enjoined silence on all parties. Salvatierra, the viceroy, also helped to quell the disturbance. Nevertheless, on June 6, Palafox issued another proclamation declaring that his enemies had been assembling arms in their houses, and were bent on getting control of the country. He again made a public appearance in the streets of Mexico, but two days afterwards he submitted the whole matter to the viceroy.

Salvatierra then implored him with the greatest respect and kindness to restore tranquillity and peace to the distracted colony, but on June 15, Palafox disappeared from the city; and no one knew whither he had gone. It was officially reported later on, that he had betaken himself first to the hacienda of Juan de Vergus, but after two days had disappeared again. For two months his whereabouts could not be ascertained, but in a letter to the Pope, he described himself as wandering for ten days in the forest and mountains without shelter or food, and exposed to death from serpents and wild beasts. He called himself another Athanasius. Finally he returned to the original hacienda and remained there until November. Before his departure, he had empowered the cabildo to have the diocese administered by three ecclesiastics whom he designated; but one of them was imprisoned by the viceroy, and the two others refused to serve. Whereupon, the cabildo called a meeting at the city hall. Alonzo Salazar de Baraona presided and the Jesuits were ordered to display their faculties, which they did; they were then declared rightful ministers of the sacraments.

During his retirement Palafox had received two letters from Spain, one deposing him from his office of visitor, and another announcing the transfer of Salvatierra to Peru. The first was the reverse of pleasant, but the second was a source of great satisfaction for, if we are to believe Salvatierra, Palafox had aspirations for the viceregal office. Possibly with that in view, he willingly assented to the conditions on which he was to be allowed to re-enter his diocese, namely to regard as binding all that had been done in his absence. It was fully nine months before Salvatierra left Mexico, and during all that time there was peace in Puebla; but hostilities were resumed immediately afterwards. Palafox refused to be bound by his contract with Salvatierra; he declared the acts of the commission to be null and void, reasserted the invalidity of the Jesuit faculties, and put three of his own canons in jail. In September, he received a brief from the Pope which he regarded as a justification of all that had been done. In the main, the document asserted the fundamental right of the bishop to examine the faculties of the priests and condemned the proceedings of the commission. Whereupon twelve of the Fathers submitted their faculties to the bishop. But that did not satisfy him. He insisted on the Jesuits appearing in public in a penitential garb, as at an auto-da-fé, and receiving from him a solemn absolution from their excommunication. He also made it a matter of confession for the faithful to have been absolved by Jesuits or to have listened to their sermons.

From this odious ruling an appeal was taken to the royal council; whereupon Palafox despatched three letters to the Pope. The first was about the parochial rights of the other religious orders; the second complaining of the silver mines, vast haciendas and wealth of the Jesuits, and the third consisting of fifty-eight pages of the most atrocious calumnies ever written by a Catholic, and asking finally that they should be made like other religious orders with choir, cloister, etc. Ten years later, the General of the Discalced Carmelites inquired of Palafox why he wrote these letters. "I did so," he says, "because I was incensed against the Jesuits for not treating me with proper respect, but I am surprised that I have lost their affection and was not aware of it till now." At last, wearied of it all, Philip IV ordered him to return to Spain immediately, but he obeyed in a very leisurely fashion. In Rome, the case dragged on for four more years and finally a verdict was rendered affirming among other things that the Fathers had been properly provided with faculties, and had ceased to preach and hear confessions when ordered to do so. The only censure they received was for having convoked the commission to judge the case in the absence of the bishop. The trouble had lasted for sixteen years, but it created a deep prejudice against the Society a century later.

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