The day after Lainez expired, the Jesuits in Rome named Francis Borgia Vicar-General, until a new election should take place. Borgia is one of the saints and glories of the order, and his history is really a most extraordinary one. He was descended from that Alexander VI. who united in his person all the crimes of past and future Popes, and was a stain to humanity itself. Our Borgia was, however, a man of the strictest honesty, and of unblemished honour. He was handsome, brave, the companion in arms and friend of Charles V., was Duke of Candia and Vice-king of Barcelona. In 1546, when he was only 36 years of age, his duchess died. The sight of her beautiful face, altered and disfigured by death, made such a powerful impression upon his mind, that he from that moment resolved to give up all worldly thoughts, and consecrate himself (as the phrase goes) to God. He chose the Society of the Jesuits as the safest retreat, and wrote to Loyola for the purpose. Ignatius’ answer begins thus:—“The resolution you have taken, most illustrious lord, gives me much joy. Let the angels and saints in heaven give thanks to God, for we on this earth cannot be sufficiently grateful to God for the great honour He bestows upon His little Society in calling you to join it.”[125]

This man had nine children, some in infancy, and all under age, whom he left in the wide world unprotected, to enter the Society. And the angels and saints ought to praise God for this! Alas for the moral blindness of perverted human nature! Loyola again wrote to him, saying that he accepted him as his brother, but that, before he could be admitted into the noviciate, he must settle all his temporal affairs, and have nothing more to do with the world; meanwhile, until he was ready to enter the Society, to keep his intention a secret. Borgia was admitted into the house of probation in 1548, and from that moment he became a bigoted fanatic, whose greatest happiness consisted in lacerating his body. Macaulay says, in an article in the Edinburgh Review, “that it is making penitence with him to listen to the recital of his flagellations and his self-inflicted punishments of all kinds.” He had so destroyed his constitution by this absurd way of trying to please God, that he never had a single day of good health, and was even once threatened with a gangrene over his whole body. Such was the man appointed Vicar-General, and afterwards chief of the order. He had no wish for the honour, considered the office a burden, and we believe he was sincere in his humility. The first battle he had to fight was against the Holy See itself. Almost contemporaneously with his nomination, a Dominican friar ascended the Papal throne, under the name of Pius V. A more bigoted, fanatical, cruel, and sanguinary man never existed. Brought up under the wing of the Inquisition, he contracted a sort of blind passion for that bloody tribunal, and never felt so happy as when he heard of some barbarous cruelties inflicted upon the heretics, or when some hecatombs of these accursed enemies of Popery were sacrificed at the altar of his revenge, or when some new instrument of torture was invented against them. Suffice it to say, that when he sent his general, Santafiore, to fight against the French Protestants, he commanded him in the most peremptory manner to take no Huguenot prisoner, but to put them one and all to the sword; and because Santafiore had not rigorously executed his commands, he reproached him in the most bitter manner. And when that monster of cruelty, the Duke of Alva, had spread death and desolation over the entire of the Netherlands, 18,000 of the inhabitants of which he boasted of having delivered up into the hands of the executioners, so pleased was Pius with his deeds, that he sent him the consecrated hat and sword, as marks of his approval.[126] Can this, then, be the religion of Christ? Is it for a moment possible that this should be the true religion, this which erects upon its altars the statues of such monsters of iniquity, and impiously calls them saints, to be worshipped in place of God the Lord? And among the greatest of these modern saintships stands forth the name of Pius V.! This Pope, a most rigorous observer of all the monastic and superstitious ceremonies, gave the Jesuits to understand that they should undertake the choral hours as prescribed by Pius IV., and that no Jesuit should be ordained a priest before he had pronounced the four vows. We shall not repeat the conversation which took place between the Holy Father and the saint Borgia, as given by Sacchini and other historians; we shall only give some extracts of the bold and eloquent memorials which the Jesuits presented to the Pope on this occasion.

After reminding his holiness, in a gentle yet admonitory manner, that their Constitutions had been approved of by three popes, and that they could not be altered without good reasons for so doing, they proceed to state, “that their Society had been established to repel the impious efforts of the heretics, to oppose the infernal tricks which had been had recourse to to extinguish the light of the Catholic truth, and to resist the barbarous enemies of Christ, who were besieging the holy edifice of the Church, undermining it insensibly; that, in order that they might be able to resist this invasion effectually, their holy father Ignatius thought that it would be better for them to leave singing to others.... And did not the same causes still exist, they inquired, for the exercise of their activity, as the signs of the times unmistakably demonstrated? They submitted that a vast conflagration was devouring France; that Germany was in a great measure consumed; that England was one heap of ashes; that Belgium was falling into ruins; that Poland smoked in every quarter; that the flames were already blazing around the confines of Italy.... And they should lose their time in undertaking the choral hours.”[127] On this point the Pope yielded; but, on the other, he was inflexible, saying, that it was requisite that at least as much learning and virtue should be in a priest as in a Jesuit, even of the class of the Professed. This Sacchini denies, affirming that it is more difficult to make one good Jesuit than a thousand priests. The Jesuits, who stood in need of priests, but would not enlarge the aristocratic class of the Professed members, who alone take the four vows, obtained as usual their end by exercising a little cunning. They presented themselves for ordination, not as Jesuits, but as secular ecclesiastics.

We pass over a number of interesting incidents which happened under the generalship of Borgia down to the year 1571, when we find the General, though in very ill health, leaving Rome for Spain and France, for the purpose of soliciting assistance from the respective monarchs of these countries to aid the Venetians in a war against the Turks, who were then threatening to pour their savage hordes over Europe. Philip II. joined the league, and his vessels gained some of the laurels which were won at that ever memorable battle fought at Lepanto on the 7th October 1571, when the descendants of the Prophet suffered a defeat from which they have never recovered. Before Borgia entered Spain, the Inquisition, aware that Philip was on the best terms both with him and the Pope, published, with the highest eulogium, those same works which she had proscribed nine years before when the king frowned upon Father Borgia—a most striking example of the servility of the Spanish Inquisition to the crown. From Spain, Borgia proceeded to Portugal, thence to France, at the very time when Catherine and Charles were plunged in continual feasts and pleasures, the forerunner of what they expected to enjoy on Saint Bartholomew’s eve. But we have no reason to believe that he was at all privy to the plot. It is not at all likely that the cunning and circumspect Catherine of Medicis would be so foolish as to confide so important a secret to such a weak-brained man. Borgia witnessed the massacre in the southern provinces of France, when on his return to Rome, where he arrived on the 28th of September 1572, and where he expired three days after. So ended this extraordinary man, whom the Church of Rome has enrolled among the saints. Would to God that none of them were worse than he!

At the opening of the fourth General Congregation the Pope inquired of the Jesuit deputies, who had gone up according to custom to ask his benison, “How many votes each nation had?” The answer was that “Spain had more votes than all the rest put together.” “And from what nation or nations has the General been hitherto chosen?” “From Spain,” was the reply. “Well,” resumed Gregory XIII., “it would be but just, then, that you should, for this once, elect one from some other nation.” The deputies remonstrated; “but,” said the Pope, “Father Mercurianus is a very good man,” and dismissed them. To another deputation, sent purposely to assert their independence in the choice of their own General, the Pope answered, that he did not impugn their right, that he only requested of them to inform him if their choice should fall upon a Spaniard, before he was officially proclaimed. The reason of all this was national jealousy, united to the aversion evinced by Spain and Portugal to all Christianised Jews and Moors. This aversion was shared in by the Court of Rome, and was now aroused by the fear of seeing Polancus, a Christianised Jew, on the point of being elected General of the order, “and it was not thought desirable that the supreme authority in a body so powerful and so monarchically constituted should be confided to such hands.”[128]

Father Mercurianus was chosen. He was a simple and weak old man, a native of Belgium. He delivered up the government of the Society first to Father Palmio, then to Father Manara. This produced internal troubles and the formation of two parties, which caused great commotion in the days of his successor. Mercurianus exercised very little influence on the destinies of the order, and was the first General whose authority was held in little account. He died on the 1st of August 1580, at which time the Society numbered 5750 members, 110 houses, and 21 provinces. The wealth they had acquired was immense; it did not matter how it was got, as the end with them sanctified the means. For example, when the troops of the ferocious Alva sacked Malines, Father Trigosus freighted a vessel with victuals and sailed to Malines to buy a great part of the booty, under the pretext of giving it back to the proprietors. Doubtless, to deceive the fools, he restored some of it to the proper owners, but then this was only to a trifling amount; the remainder and most valuable portion was employed to adorn the College of Antwerp with regal magnificence. In France the Jesuits were left heirs to the immense fortune of the Bishop of Clermont. In Spain they allured into their Society the representatives of two of the wealthiest families in that country, for which they were brought before the tribunal and condemned. Moreover, Gregory XIII. presented them with enormous sums, and founded no fewer than thirteen of their colleges, every one of which was richly endowed; while in Portugal they were almost masters of the entire kingdom. We shall by and by examine the causes of this unparalleled prosperity.

CHAPTER IX.
1560-1600.
PROCEEDINGS OF THE JESUITS IN THE DIFFERENT COUNTRIES OF EUROPE.

ENGLAND.

Many have pronounced it impossible to write an adequate history of the Jesuits, because, being more or less connected with the history of the world, it is no easy matter to pass from one event, and from one country, to another, and yet follow the chronological order, that the reader may have a clear and consecutive narrative. To obviate this difficulty as far as possible, we have, in the preceding chapter, which embraces a period of twenty-five years, related only the facts connected with the internal history of the order; we shall now proceed to those which during nearly the same space of time more or less exercised an influence upon the history of the different countries in Europe.

Let us begin with England. After the first expedition of Brouet and Salmeron in 1541, which we have already noticed, Great Britain was no longer troubled with Jesuitical missions till the “good Queen Mary had expired, to the inestimable damage of the Catholic religion.”[129] In 1550, however, the Pope despatched to Ireland the Irish Jesuit, Davis Wolfe, and after three years more, a bishop, accompanied with other two Jesuits; “while,” as Sacchini says, “Father Chimage, an Englishman, returned home, for the purpose of having his health restored by his own native air.”[130] These satellites of the Pope entered the country under fictitious names, and as stealthily as nocturnal robbers, mendacious in every word they uttered, and exciting the people to rebellion against the “impious” queen. However, the vigilance of Elizabeth’s police prevented them for the time being from doing any material injury. Wolfe, guilty of a thousand immoralities, was dismissed the Society, and the others were obliged to return to Rome.

About this time (1562), Father Gandon was sent into Scotland to exhort and encourage Queen Mary to be faithful to her religion. This was, perhaps, the avowed motive, but, doubtless, he had received similar instructions to those given by Paul III. to Brouet and Salmeron. Mary admitted him by a postern door into her palace, and had three secret conferences with him; but his steps were traced, he was pursued, and a price set upon his head. The Jesuit, who, it seems, had no taste for martyrdom, left Scotland, but not before he had done some mischief. He departed, along with several young noblemen, whom he had seduced, and who accompanied him to be educated in Flanders. “They were hostages to the Church, and were afterwards to return home, carrying thither the faith with them.”[131] About the same period, William Allen, “to perpetuate,” as Butler says, “the Catholic ministry in England,” resolved upon establishing colleges abroad, in which English priests should be educated, preparatory to exercising their calling at home. His exertions were crowned with success. A college, which he consigned into the hands of the Jesuits, was established in Douay in 1568, and Pope Gregory XIII. endowed it with £1500 yearly. When the Jesuits were expelled from Douay, and their college sacked by the people, the Cardinal of Lorraine called them to Rheims. This happened in 1576. The same Pope Gregory established another college in Rome for the education of English youth, and for the purpose of imbuing their minds with hatred to their sovereign and country. The Jesuits had the superintendence of this also. Hence proceeded those priests and Jesuits, who, with brands of discord in their hands, departed to set their country on fire. Many Jesuits were sent to Great Britain between the years 1562 and 1580, and they all received the same instructions, and acted in the same manner. Elizabeth, who at the beginning of her reign had exercised a spirit of toleration towards her Catholic subjects, was now greatly incensed against them, driven, as she was, to extremities by the continual torrent of abuse which was poured upon her head by the sectarians of Rome. The holy Pius V., on the 5th of February 1570, fulminated a bull of excommunication against “Elizabeth, the so-called queen of England, who, after having usurped the throne, has dared to assume the title of supreme chief of the Church, and, moreover” ... [here the bull enumerates all Elizabeth’s crimes]. “We, therefore,” the bull continues, “by the authority which is given to us, declare that the aforesaid Elizabeth, and all her adherents, have incurred excommunication; that she has forfeited her pretended right to the crown of England; and we deprive her of it, and of all other rights, domains, privileges, and dignities. We absolve the Lords and the Commons of the realm, and all others her subjects, from the oath of allegiance which they may have tendered to her, prohibiting them from obeying her commands, ordinances, and proclamations, under the penalty of being excommunicated in like manner.”[132]

The abuses poured upon her by priests and Jesuits were most revolting and insulting. Without referring to ancient writers, we shall quote a passage from Crétineau, a writer of the present civilised and tolerant age, that our readers may have an idea of what must have been the scurrility of those times of fanaticism and intestine commotions. “The Holy See,” says the French historian, “had frequently cursed the heiress and daughter of Henry VIII. The Catholics, on the other hand, having penetrated, along with all England, into her licentious and voluptuous private life, refused to salute the mistress of Leicester with the name of maiden queen, to worship her caprices, or to applaud her hypocritical passions.”[133]

Nor were the Roman Catholics merely contented with attacking Elizabeth by words—their deeds were yet more criminal. Long before this, Allen solicited the General of the Jesuits to establish a house in England. But it seems that the General and the Pope were waiting their own time, and that they did not resolve till the year 1579 to grace Great Britain with a permanent Jesuitical establishment. When this resolution was made known, the most distinguished members of the Society implored, on their knees (as it is reported), to be sent to England to brave the persecutions of Elizabeth; Mercurianus told them, however, that English Jesuits should be preferred for this mission. In consequence of this declaration, Fathers Campion and Parson were chosen to head the mission, which was composed of thirteen members.[134] It arrived at the sea-coast of France, about the month of June 1580. Campion and Parson were both fellows of Oxford University, and not the least among its professors and tutors. It seems that both of them were Catholics at heart, though they pretended to be Protestants. The Jesuits affirm that Parson was dismissed the University because of his Catholic sentiments, while the other party assigns his immoral conduct as the reason. Both took the oath; both, we are assured, repented it all their lives. Both left the university, and after various vicissitudes, and the necessary probation, were received among the sons of Loyola. As we may believe, Cecil’s police knew almost all the movements of these self-invited visitors. Their intended landing in England was announced to all the authorities, their persons were carefully described, and orders were given for arresting them the moment they put foot on shore. But all was to no purpose. The Jesuits eluded every vigilance, and Father Parson, upon arriving at Dover, played to the officer who had the charge of examining the passengers, a trick that would shame any modern Robert Macaire. He gave out that he was a captain returning from Flanders; and being dressed suitably to the character assumed, so well did he perform his part, that the inspecting officer received him with every species of civility and courtesy, shook hands with him, and promised, moreover, to shew every attention to one of the captain’s merchant friends, who, as that impostor intimated, was expected every day from the Continent, and who proved to be no other than Father Campion. When the latter arrived in London, Parson was on the banks of the Thames to receive him, and saluted and cheered him with the air of one meeting a long absent friend, so that no one could have suspected that all was an artifice and a trick.[135]

The Jesuits, once in England, lost no time in commencing operations. A meeting of all the missionaries and secular priests was summoned. Parson presided. He was too cunning to declare publicly the end of their mission, as he did not wish to frighten the timid with the announcement of some dangerous enterprise. He disclaimed all political objects, and said that he only aimed at the conversion of England in co-operation with the secular priests; and swore that this was his only intention.[136] But then appealing to a decree of the Council of Trent, he forbade the Catholics to attend divine service in Protestant churches, and recommended strict nonconformity. In the company of the more faithful, he inveighed most bitterly against the queen, and pointed out with what ease she might be dethroned, by the assistance of the King of Spain and the Pope. Such exhortations as this caused a great ferment among the Roman Catholics.

“Swarms of Jesuits and Papists (from the seminaries of Rome and Rheims), impelled by religious enthusiasm, sedulously cultivated for that very purpose, and desirous of returning to their own country, were constantly pouring into the kingdom.”[137] Parson, who was the Provincial, guided all their movements, and himself went from place to place to excite the worst passions of man’s nature in the breasts of those who sought him, as their spiritual father, to confer peace and consolation. A great stir soon became visible among the Roman Catholics. People talked of nothing else than conspiracy and revolt. Sinister rumours were afloat, and acquired new strength from day to day, as is always the case in times of excitement, when some strange idea always pervades the minds of the multitude. It was now the general belief throughout England that every Roman Catholic was a traitor, and at the bidding of the priests was ready to become an assassin. A general massacre of the Protestants by the Papists, assisted by the invasion of a foreign power, was talked of as a matter of more than probable occurrence. Above all, Elizabeth—the beloved queen—the idol of the people—was in danger every moment of being murdered. Books were daily printed denouncing more or less particularly their abominable machinations. These gave consistency to the popular belief. This belief extended from the lowest to the highest ranks of society, and put the nation into an indescribable state of excitement. The government, satisfied that the Jesuits were the cause of all these troubles, and with the view of quieting the popular commotions, issued a proclamation, which may have been considered just in those days, but which we, who live in a more tolerant age, must unconditionally condemn. Among its other enactments were the following:—“That whosoever had any children, wards, kinsmen, or other relations in parts beyond the seas, should after ten days give in their names to the ordinary, and within four months call them home again, and when they had returned, should forthwith give notice of the same to the said ordinary. That they should not, directly or indirectly, supply such as refused to return with any money. That no man should entertain in his house or harbour any priests sent forth from the aforesaid seminaries, or Jesuits, or cherish and relieve them. And that whosoever did to the contrary, should be accounted a favourer of rebels and seditious persons, and be proceeded against according to the laws of the land.”[138]

The proclamation was boldly answered by pamphlets from each of the Jesuits. Parson’s was full of virulence towards the Protestants, and Campion’s, although written in a more moderate tone, was no less offensive. This last was entitled Ten Reasons. It was a defence of the Church of Rome and its supremacy, and made no little noise.[139] In both of these writings, it was protested that the Jesuits were in England solely for the purpose of exercising their holy ministry, and not for any political end whatever; that, on the contrary, they had come to modify the Bull of Pius V. Crétineau says, that “Parson and Campion would not leave Rome until they obtained from the Holy See this concession (the modification of the Bull), which would greatly facilitate their apostolic mission; even the Protestants themselves mention this in their annals as a fact.”[140] And in a note he cites “Camden.” We shall quote for him the passage of the English annalist.

“Robert Parson and Edmund Campion were authorised by Gregory XIII. in these words:—An explication of the bull issued by Pius V. against Elizabeth and her adherents is sought for from our supreme lord, since the Catholics desire that it be thus understood, that it should always bind her and the heretics, but by no means the Catholics, as matters now stand, but only when the execution of the same bull be publicly ordered. The supreme Pontiff granted the aforesaid grace to Father Robert Parson and Edmund Campion when about to set out to England, on the 13th April 1580, in the presence of Father Oliver Manara assistant.”[141]

We might perhaps say that this pretended concession is rather an aggravation of the bull than anything else; but we shall be generous, and give it the best interpretation possible. But then, if we prove that all this was a wily cunning contrivance, that the Jesuits might have greater chance of success in their treacherous projects, their crime will be still more execrable. Let us examine. The facts, it is true, are far from us, and the actors have long ago departed to their accounts: True; but then the deductions of logic from well-authenticated facts still remain to us, and are equally convincing. The Jesuits assert that the Pope, out of leniency and benignancy towards England and its queen, had ordered them not to force upon the Roman Catholic believers the clause of his predecessor’s bull which forbade them, under pain of excommunication, to consider Elizabeth as their legitimate sovereign. Well, if the rest of the Pope’s conduct leads us to believe in the sincerity of this mandate, we shall absolve them of every crime, and say that the Jesuits proceeded to England with the best intentions, and were martyrs to their faith. But who was this pacific and tolerant Pope? It was Gregory XIII.; that same Gregory who, at the news of Saint Bartholomew’s infernal feast, went in procession to the French Church in Rome, offered up thanksgivings to the Almighty for the blood of 50,000 of His creatures barbarously butchered, and had medals struck to commemorate this glorious event! It was this same Gregory who had on the previous year supplied the ruffian Stukely with money, arms, and troops for the invasion of England, whilst the Catholics in the interior were ordered to rise in rebellion in his favour.[142] It was this identical Gregory who at the same time sent into Ireland the famous Dr. Sanders, as the Pope’s legate, with a bull declaring the invasion a regular crusade with all its privileges! It was that same Gregory who, says Ranke, “excited and encouraged all those insurrections which Elizabeth had to contend with in Ireland.”[143] All these facts, proving Gregory’s inexorable hatred towards the Protestants, and his determined desire to dethrone Elizabeth, happened shortly before and after the mission of the Jesuits. And yet it is pretended that this same man forbade the Jesuits from mixing in political affairs, and that, on the contrary, he charged them to preach obedience to the queen! We believe that few will give the Jesuits credit on that score, but rather will be satisfied they were sent for the purpose of stirring up a rebellion, if possible to find an assassin, and that the injunction was nothing else than a ruse—an act of duplicity wherewith the better to succeed in their treasonable designs.

The government was, however, highly incensed at their audacity, and attached the utmost importance to their capture. Another proclamation was issued, forbidding any one to harbour, protect, or assist the Jesuits to escape, and that he who did so would be considered guilty of high treason. This produced an effect quite contrary to what was intended. Hundreds of persons who, before the proclamation, shewed no liking for the Jesuits, now risked their fortunes, their lives, to protect them. So interesting does persecution render a man—so generous are the instincts of the people. All the activity, all the vigilance of the most energetic and vigilant of governments was for thirteen months baffled by the dexterity and resources of the Jesuits. The history of their escapes, and the daring methods in which they executed them, is both curious and amusing. Space will not permit us to indulge in the recital of more than one of those marvellous escapes. One evening the house in which Parson had sought a retreat was suddenly surrounded by a band who were in pursuit of him. Resistance or concealment was impossible. Parson at once determined on what he would do. He went to the door, opened it, and calmly asked what they wanted. “The Jesuit,” was the reply. “Walk in,” said he, “and search for him quietly;” and as they entered, he went out, and made his escape.[144] The escapes of Campion were no less wonderful. He himself wrote, “My dresses are most numerous, my fashions are various, and as for names, I have an abundance.”[145] The government, enraged at being so often baffled, had recourse, we are sorry to say, to persecution. Thousands of citizens were thrown into prison for nonconformity, or on mere suspicion. Domiciliary visits frequently disturbed even the inoffensive and peaceful Papists, whilst the Jesuit authors of all these disturbances and miseries laughed at the abortive attempts of their enemies to capture them. At last, in July 1581, Elliot, a Papist, betrayed Campion. He was arrested along with two other priests, in a secret closet in a wall of the castle of Yates. They mounted him on the largest horse that could be got, tied his legs under it, pinioned his hands behind his back, and fixed a placard on his hat with this inscription, in great capitals, “Campion, the seditious Jesuit.” He was brought to London, surrounded by a great multitude, vociferating imprecations and curses upon his head. The shouts of jubilee among the Protestants throughout England were deafening, and many a sincere person rejoiced at it, as if by this capture the kingdom was rescued from imminent danger and certain destruction.

The contradiction which exists between the Protestant and Catholic writers, regarding the treatment, trial, and execution of the Jesuits, renders it almost impossible for us to arrive at the exact truth. The one party calls them innocent martyrs, the other infernal traitors. The one complains that they were most unmercifully treated, the other, that they had too much lenity shewn them. It is, however, an incontestible fact that they were put to the torture, and Crétineau is right when he exclaims against the Protestants, who, while professing to abhor the Papal Inquisition so much, now adopted all its barbarous proceedings. It may be also true, that a jury sitting now at Westminster would not find sufficient material from which to condemn them. But we must remind the Catholics, that to judge of these events with impartiality, we must transport ourselves to those times, when Ireland was in an almost continual state of rebellion; when England was daily menaced with invasion; when the Roman Catholics of all Europe spoke of another Saint Bartholomew; when torrents of imprecations were poured out against Elizabeth, her ministers, and all her Protestant subjects. We must go back to those times when the Jesuits persuaded the Roman Catholics that it was a mortal sin for them to acknowledge Elizabeth’s right to the throne; to those times in which the Jesuitical doctrine, that it was lawful, nay meritorious, to kill an excommunicated king, had already been proclaimed; finally, to those times when the contest had come to this,—“Whether England should be Protestant under the sway of Elizabeth, or Catholic under Mary of Scotland, or Philip of Spain.” That the Jesuits and the Pope caused all this agitation, there can be no doubt whatever. Hume, quoting a passage from Camden, and Walsingham’s letter in Burnet, appears to me to assign the most plausible reason for it in the following words:—“And though the exercise of every religion but the established one was prohibited by the statute, the violation of this law, by saying mass, and receiving the sacrament in private houses, was, in many instances, connived at; while, on the other hand, the Catholics, at the beginning of her reign, shewed little reluctance against going to church, or frequenting the ordinary duties of public worship. The Pope, sensible that this practice would by degrees reconcile all his partisans to the Reformed religion, hastened the publication of the bull, which excommunicated the queen, and freed her subjects from their oath of allegiance; and great pains were taken by the emissaries of Rome to render the breach between the two religions as wide as possible, and to make the frequenting of Protestant churches appear highly criminal in the Catholics. These practices, with the rebellion which ensued, increased the vigilance and severity of the government; but the Romanists, if their condition were compared with that of the nonconformists in other countries, and with their own maxims where they domineered, could not justly complain of violence or persecution.”[146]

The truth of this assertion is rendered still more evident by a petition of the English Catholic priests themselves, addressed to the Pope, in which they say, “That those fathers (the Jesuits) were the sole authors of all the troubles which agitated the English Church; that, previous to the Jesuits’ coming to England, no Catholic had been accused of high treason; that they no sooner made their appearance in Great Britain, than the aspect of things began to undergo a change; that their political ambition was manifest; and that they had set a price on the crown, and put the kingdom to auction.”[147] These were the times and the circumstances in which, on the 20th of November 1581, Campion and fifteen other priests were brought to trial at Westminster. They were all condemned, and three Jesuits, Campion, Sherwin, and Briant, were publicly executed. Crétineau and the other Jesuit historians give them the name of martyrs. Hume, on the contrary, following the historians of the epoch, says, that “Campion was detected in treasonable practices, and being put to the rack, confessed his guilt, and was publicly executed.”[148] It is repeatedly affirmed in the Justitia Britannica, and partly proved, that they were convicted of treason and conspiracy against the life of the queen. One strong proof against Campion, was the production of a letter which he had found means to forward to Father Pond, another Jesuit prisoner in the Tower, and in which he writes:—“I feel in myself courage enough, and I hope I shall have the strength, not to let drop from my mouth one single word which may be prejudicial to the Church of God, no matter what may be the torments.”[149] But we repeat, even though proofs had been deficient for a strictly legal condemnation, there is, nevertheless, a strong moral certitude of their having been conspirators, purposely sent into England to cause a revolt, and, if possible, to procure the assassination of the queen. Thus, whatever may be the objection raised against the legality of the form, no one will deny the substantial justice by which they were punished.

After the capture of Campion, Parson, like a prudent general, not wishing to risk his own person, on which so much depended, left England for France, where, feeling himself secure, he gave vent to his hatred, poured out curses and maledictions on the whole English nation, and set on foot new plots and new conspiracies. In conjunction with Dr Allen, the Guises, and the Bishop of Glasgow (Mary’s Resident at the court of France), he sent over to Scotland Father Creighton, for the purpose of converting James VI. to Romanism, and of exciting him to join the Pope and the King of Spain in war against England, promising him money and all sorts of favours from both these monarchs. Creighton frequently crossed over from France to Scotland to effect this league; and once, when on his way, the vessel in which he was conveyed being seized, he tore some papers, with the design of throwing them into the sea, but the wind blowing them back upon the deck, the pieces were arranged together, and brought to light some dangerous secrets.[150]

The famous William Parry was detected about the same time. This man, who had received the queen’s pardon for a crime deserving capital punishment, went to travel. He repaired to Venice, where he was persuaded by Father Palmio, the Provincial of the Jesuits in that locality, that he could not do a more meritorious action than kill his sovereign and benefactress. Campeggio, the Pope’s nuncio, approved of this; and Ragazzoni, the Pope’s legate in Paris, to confirm him in this criminal enterprise, promised him from the Holy See, not only absolution, but also the Pope’s paternal benediction, and a plenary indulgence for all his sins. Morgan, a Catholic gentleman residing in Paris, gave him additional encouragement. Parry returned to England, where, after some delay, he disclosed his design to Nevil, who resolved to have a share in the merit of its execution. Both determined to sacrifice their lives in the fulfilment of a duty which they were taught was agreeable to the will of God, and for the interests of the true religion. But while they were watching for a fit opportunity to put this execrable parricide into execution, the Earl of Westmoreland died in exile; and as Nevil was the next heir to the family possessions, he, in the hope of being put into the family estates and honours, betrayed the whole conspiracy. Parry was arrested, and confessed his guilt both to the ministry and to the jury who tried him. The letter of the Cardinal of Como, in which he announced to Parry that the Holy Father sent him absolution, his blessing, and plenary indulgence, was produced before the court, and put Parry’s declaration beyond all doubt.[151] He was condemned, and received the punishment due to his treason. Parry, among other revelations, said that he had informed Father Creighton of his purpose; and as this Jesuit was in prison at the time, he was examined concerning Parry. At first he denied all acquaintance with him, but he subsequently wrote to Walsingham, confessing that Parry had indeed declared to him his intention of taking the queen’s life, and had also asked his opinion on the matter; that he (Creighton) answered that it was not lawful to do so, omnino non liceret; that, on being pressed by Parry, whether, to save the bodies and souls of many, it was not lawful to take away a single life, he, the Jesuit, answered, that even in this case one ought not to attempt such a deed without, at least, feeling an inspiration from above.[152] This answer, in my opinion, was more apt to inflame the fanaticism of the man than to check him in his parricidal projects. And yet this was all that Creighton could say in his own justification. Now it is astonishing with what impudence Crétineau tries to pervert the truth of this affair. Listen to his narrative. He pretends that Walsingham had sent Parry to the Continent in order to test the fidelity of the Jesuits; that he revealed to many of them his design to murder Elizabeth, and was dissuaded by all from the committal of such an abominable crime; that, being introduced by an English gentleman (Morgan, no doubt) to the Pope’s legate, Ragazzoni, he, Parry, presented to him a petition, craving the holy father’s blessing, and absolution of his sins; that, having returned to England, he was introduced to the queen, to whom he related that the Jesuits, and the partisans of Mary Stewart, had excited him to take away her life; that he was not credited by the queen; that he had subsequently fallen into indigence; that misery and despair had inspired him with the thought of executing in reality the imaginary crime which he pretended to have meditated with the Jesuits.[153] And to explain Cardinal Como’s letter, he adds—“As to the Pope’s indulgences and absolution, no matter how great these favours may appear to the eyes of the pious and the faithful, aux yeux de la pieté, et de la foi, it must, nevertheless, be confessed, that every one may obtain them without being obliged to assassinate a heretic princess.”[154] Although the absurdity of these justifications be already quite manifest, we shall suggest one or two observations. What interest could Walsingham have had in sending Parry to know the opinion of the Jesuits upon the projected murder of the queen? These Jesuits were safe from the minister’s anger, since they were in foreign countries. Parry did not set plots on foot which should involve many persons, whose names it might have been useful to know; he did not ask to be made privy to any secret, or to be sent back to England directed to some Popish partisan to discover and betray him. No—he was only sent for the pleasure of knowing what answer the Jesuits would give to his question—“May I, or may I not, kill the queen?” But Walsingham was not only a stupid, he was also an ungrateful, minister. He employed a man in a most serious and delicate affair, he disclosed to that same man dangerous and rather disgraceful secrets, and that man, immediately after he had accomplished his mission, was driven to extremities for want of food! Alas! Monsieur Crétineau, your attempted justification proves the culpability of your Jesuits more forcibly than any other proof could.

A severe law was now passed by parliament against the Jesuits. The law enacted that they should depart the kingdom within forty days; that those who should remain beyond that time, or should afterwards return, should be guilty of treason; that those who harboured or relieved them should be guilty of felony; that those who were educated in seminaries, if they did not return in six months after notice given, and did not submit themselves to the queen, before a bishop, or two justices, should be guilty of treason; and that, if any so submitting themselves, should within ten years approach the court, or come within ten miles of it, their submission should be void.[155]

Of fifty or sixty Jesuits, a part being frightened, left England of their own accord, while the rest were discovered and sent away, but only to become still more dangerous enemies. We beg to quote a passage from Hume regarding the too famous conspiracy of Babington, which passage exactly expresses our ideas upon the subject:—

“The English seminary at Rheims had wrought themselves up to a high pitch of rage and animosity against the queen. The recent persecutions from which they had escaped; the new rigours which they knew awaited them in the course of their missions; the liberty which at present they enjoyed, of declaiming against that princess; and the contagion of that religious fury which everywhere surrounded them in France;—all these causes had obliterated within them every maxim of common sense, and every principle of morals or humanity. Intoxicated with admiration of the Divine power and infallibility of the Pope, they revered his bull, by which he excommunicated and deposed the queen; and some of them had gone to that height of extravagance as to assert, that the performance had been immediately dictated by the Holy Ghost. The assassination of heretical sovereigns, and of that princess in particular, was represented as the most meritorious of all enterprises; and they taught, that whoever perished in such attempts, enjoyed without dispute the glorious and never-fading crown of martyrdom. By such doctrines they instigated a man of desperate courage, who had served some years in the low countries under the Prince of Parma, to attempt the life of Elizabeth; and this assassin having made a vow to persevere in his design, was sent over to England, and recommended to the confidence of the more zealous Catholics.”[156]

It would be too tedious to follow the Jesuits in all their machinations against both the queen and the state, neither would it afford any additional instruction. We shall pass in silence the efforts of Father Garnet to raise a revolt when the Invincible Armada was approaching. We shall not even quote a passage from Crétineau, where he confesses without the least hesitation that Philip II. had sent a host of Jesuits along with the Armada, while Father Solarez by his order went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to implore Divine aid for its success. We shall not further demonstrate, that if they were not the prime movers of every plot, they were at least implicated less or more in them all. Nor shall we detain our readers with details of the deeds they performed in Scotland, where their influence depended in great part, as the Jesuits assert, upon the state of friendship between James and Elizabeth. We shall merely translate a single passage from their historian:—“After the death of Mary Stuart,” says Crétineau, “James seemed disposed to break up all intercourse with England; and, that this rupture might be the better publicly attested, James not only granted to the Jesuits a free access into his dominions, but also himself invited them to come.”[157] We give this quotation as we find it, without being responsible for its veracity; but it will be sufficient to prove that the Jesuits, even from the confession of their own party, were the most perfidious and dangerous enemies that England ever had to contend with. And as they were then, so they are still. If they hated England and Queen Elizabeth in the 16th century, they bear no less hate to England and Queen Victoria in the 19th. Let an opportunity present itself, and you shall see them again heading the rebellion, and preaching murder as the most meritorious of all actions. Nor do they remain inactive while waiting for the opportunity. Their evil genius is constantly present and active. Many are the parents whose last days are saddened with the thought that their children have forsaken the green pastures and the untainted waters of pure gospel truth, for the turbid waters of adulterous Babylon,—these children, once the worshippers of God, now the idolaters of man, whom some disguised son of Loyola, skilfully insinuating himself into their young minds and unsuspecting hearts, has seduced from the right path. These riots, that blood spilt at Stockport, Dublin, Belfast, and elsewhere—the attempted beginning of a civil war—believe me, is due to the Jesuits, some of whom, while in the confessional or in the midst of private circles they speak with feigned devotion of the infallibility and supremacy of their Church, always find means, at the same time, of exciting, indirectly it may be, the ignorant and the bigoted against the Protestants; while the hypocritical occupation of others in the public streets will be to pour out torrents of bitter invectives against the abominations of the Court of Rome, and stir up the worst passions of the Protestants against their fellow-citizens the Papists! What, it may naturally be asked, could prompt the latter to such infernal wickedness? The accomplishment, I answer, of their mysterious designs, though this should be at the cost of the blood of thousands of their unoffending fellow-beings. Such demoniacal perfidy might well, to the honour of mankind, be scarcely credited; but listen to what I am going to relate. The fact is unfortunately too notorious to be contradicted, and will go far to afford an insight into the character of the Jesuits. In our last struggle, in that mortal combat which we, poor and inexperienced as we were, fought single-handed against the Pope and all his supporters, for civil and religious liberty, when Rome was besieged and the trumpet sounded daily for battle, a man of prepossessing appearance, wearing a beard and moustache, was seen going about from place to place, praising the soldiers for their valour, encouraging the citizens not to desert their walls, inflaming the minds of the youth with the glory of dying for one’s country, and cursing the French, the Pope, and especially the Jesuits. No one knew who he was, but many a one admired him, and gave him credit for being an ardent patriot. One day, however, some of the National Guards perceived a sort of telegraph on a house behind the Quirinal, almost over the wall of the city, and which belonged to the Jesuits. They forced an entrance into the premises, and there found three persons making signals to the enemy. These three were Jesuits, and one of them was recognised as the very incognito who, a few hours previously, was encouraging the people to fight. They were arrested, and when on their way to the state prison, the Jesuit wearing the moustache being recognised by some women, they tore him from the hands of the escort, stabbed him, and threw both him and his companions into the Tiber. Five persons were afterwards taken and executed under suspicion of being accomplices in this criminal action. I beg to be excused for having indulged in these remarks. They are wrung from a man who has witnessed many of their iniquities, and experienced much of their perfidy. I may, however, assure the reader that the narrator will not be influenced by these recollections.

PORTUGAL.

If the conduct of the Jesuits in Portugal was not of so criminal a nature as in England, it was certainly far more bold, and productive of more disastrous consequences to the Portuguese nation. We have already seen that the Jesuits had, from the very first, acquired great influence in that country, an influence which, after the death of John III., became paramount. During and after the minority of Don Sebastian, the Jesuits were the confessors of all the royal family. Consalves de Camera was first the tutor and afterwards the confessor of the young king, and possessed such an ascendancy over his mind, that nothing important was done without his consent or that of his brother Martin, Count of Calhette. Catherine of Austria, sister of Charles V., and grandmother to the king, a wise and clear-sighted princess, dismissed her confessor, and complained to General Borgia of the domineering spirit of the Jesuits. For this she was deprived of the regency, which devolved on Cardinal Henry, devoted both soul and body to the order. Meanwhile Don Sebastian had reached manhood, and the nation was impatient to see him married, that the line of royal descent might be unbroken. A French princess, and a daughter of the emperor Maximilian, were considered fit matches, but were both rejected. The Jesuits were accused of preventing Don Sebastian from marrying, with the design of making a Jesuit of him, and then becoming heirs to his throne. Strange as this accusation may appear, yet it is true in its principal part. Let us first listen to what Pasquier, a contemporary historian, and a celebrated advocate of the Parliament of Paris, says on the point:—“The Jesuits, shrewd and well advised as they were, saw that this territory (Portugal) was a proper soil to make their vine-tree fruitful, and, in order that they might the better succeed in their projects, on their very entrance into the kingdom they caused themselves to be called not Jesuits, but apostles, comparing themselves with those who followed our Lord, and they are there still designated by the same name. The sovereignty having fallen into the hands of Don Sebastian, these good apostles thought that the kingdom of Portugal would soon become the property of their community; and they frequently solicited him that no one should in future be King of Portugal except a Jesuit, and chosen by their own order, in the same way that the Popes at Rome are elected by the College of Cardinals. And because the king, although superstitious as superstition itself, could not, or, to speak more correctly, dared not, subscribe to their wishes, they persuaded him that it had been so ordered by God, as he himself would hear by a voice from heaven near the sea-shore. This poor prince was so misled as to go there two or three times, but they could not act their part so well as to make him hear the voice. They had not as yet in their company an impostor to rival Justinian, who in Rome was able to counterfeit the leprous. These gentlemen, perceiving that they could not gain their ends by this way, did not, however, give up the pursuit. This king, Jesuit from his soul, would not marry. In order to render themselves still more important, they advised him to march against the kingdom of Fez, where he was killed in a pitched battle. This was the fruit which Don Sebastian reaped for having believed the Jesuits. What I have just related I learned from the deceased Marquis of Pisani, an excellent Roman Catholic, and the French ambassador at the Spanish court.”[158] For our own part, while we are convinced of the truth of the selfish plot, we do not entirely agree with Pasquier in regard to the end which he attributes to them. Bold and daring as they are, they would not have braved popular opinion with such impudence. They were too clear-sighted not to be aware that the European courts would not permit them to have the possession of the throne. Yet Pasquier did not invent this piece of romance himself. The same, or nearly the same, story was repeated throughout all Europe. And this is so true, that Father Maggio, Provincial of Austria, wrote to Borgia from Prague, in the year 1571, in the following manner:—“Here the people talk of nothing else than of the Portuguese affairs. Despatches come from Spain, announcing that the king often acts so as to alarm the whole nation. They add, that our brethren (les nôtres) are the instigators of such conduct; that they wish to make a Jesuit of the king; and there are not wanting those who assert, that they (les nôtres) have alone prohibited him from marrying the French king’s sister.”[159]

This letter evidently shews that all Europe believed that the Jesuits were masters of Portugal, and that they had the disposal of the crown almost entirely at their will. Moreover, as we have seen, the Jesuits were accused of having instigated the impetuous king to undertake the conquest of Morocco, in which attempt he lost both his life and his kingdom.

Let us, however, to be impartial, listen to their justification. Crétineau asserts that these accusations were calumnies, and gives us the following as proof:—On the marriage question, he produces part of a letter written by the accused Father Consalves himself, in which, after having contradicted most of the calumniations which had been heaped upon him, he adds—“So, if I have anything to reproach myself with, it is for insisting too much that the marriage might take place. Those who told the Pope that the heart of the king was in my hands, and that I can direct his affections as I please, think of Sebastian what they would believe of any other young man of his age.... But he is obstinate, and in this matter he remains immovable to all my advices.”[160] We shall scarcely be blamed, however, if we confess ourselves sceptical regarding the truth of these justifications.

To exculpate the fathers for having induced the king to undertake the expedition against Morocco, Crétineau quotes a passage from Mendoza, a man entirely devoted to the Jesuits, in which he simply asserts, “That all the Jesuits were opposed to the expedition to Africa.” These two lines, written long after the event, and by a partisan of the order, constitute the only proof of their innocence which the Jesuits can adduce.

After such attempted justifications, there can remain no doubt that the Jesuits wrested the crown from the head of Don Sebastian, to place it upon that of Philip II. Philip was at that time the friend and the most powerful supporter of the Jesuits. He was the chief of the Roman Catholic party—the hope of the Papists—the dread of the Protestants. These reasons, I believe, induced the Jesuits to accomplish this abominable treachery. At the death of Don Sebastian, Cardinal Henry assumed the name of king, and asked from the estates of Portugal that Philip should be declared his successor. They refused. Philip invaded Portugal. The Jesuits used all their influence in his favour, excommunicated Don Antonio de Crato, the legitimate heir of the crown, and placed Philip on the throne of their benefactors. We must observe, that we believe that neither the honest and conscientious Borgia nor the old and insignificant Mercurianus were privy to this treacherous transaction. They were persons in no way to be trusted with such secrets. It thus happened that the Portuguese monarchs, who first nursed these sons of Loyola in their bosoms, found that they had been giving life to a serpent, which now stung them to the heart. But unfortunately the example was lost; the Portuguese monarchs continued to submit to the Jesuits, and one of them, Joseph I., barely escaped falling under the poniard of the assassin hired by the fathers.

FRANCE.

We have seen the Jesuits executed in England as traitors. We beheld them in Portugal, as successful conspirators, dispose of a sceptre wrested from the hands of their benefactors. We shall now see them in France acting the part of traitors, conspirators, and regicides, and the principal cause of an indescribable evil. We have already mentioned the famous arrêt (decision) of 1554, by which the parliament of Paris refused to admit the Jesuits into the kingdom. From this time, down to the year 1562, the disciples of Loyola had repeatedly obtained from the French sovereign letters patent authorising their establishment; but the parliament by repeated arrêts refusing to register them, rendered these letters nugatory, and the contest went on, with no prospect of decision. The king, the Guises, and a party of the nobles, sided with the Jesuits. The parliament, the university, the Bishop of Paris and his clergy, were against them. The principal objection to the admission of the Jesuits which was advanced by their adversaries was, that they had obtained from the Court of Rome privileges[161] which made them independent of the ordinary and of every other ecclesiastical authority. To obviate this objection, the Jesuits, in 1560, determined to carry their point, presented a petition to the king, in which they renounced their privileges, and solemnly engaged to respect the laws of the realm and those of the Gallican Church, and to submit to the jurisdiction of the ordinaries.[162] The court now imperatively commanded the parliament to admit the Jesuits. The Archbishop de Belley, vanquished by “the urgency of the court, from which he expected the Cardinal’s hat,”[163] partly withdrew his opposition, and gave his consent, but under so many restrictions, that, as Crétineau says, it was rather a protest against them than anything else. The parliament, which till now had withheld its consent, leaning on the archbishop’s opposition, now registered the king’s letters patent, but under the same restrictions; adding, that the Jesuits might appeal to the next national council or assembly. At this very time a national council was convened at Poissy, to put an end, if possible, to religious dissension, and heal the wounds of the Church. Catherine de Medici, whose favourite maxim was, divide et imperia, shewed herself impartial in this contest, thinking to retain the obedience of one party by the fear it had of the other. She herself, therefore, along with the king and the whole court, assisted at the Council of Poissy. We shall not enter into the theological discussions of this assembly. We shall only say, that although a Roman Catholic cardinal presided over and directed it, and although the Roman Catholics had a large majority, yet the eloquence of the Calvinistic divines, and especially that of Beza, was so overpowering, that Lainez, after having had a thrust or two at the redoubted champion, declared it to be almost a mortal sin to admit Protestants to a discussion; and by his advice, the Council broke up without any result.

The assembly, before it broke up, after a great deal of debating, decided that the Jesuits should be admitted on the condition that they submitted to the laws of the nation and of the Gallican Church, that the ordinary bishops should have all authority over them, and that they should renounce all their privileges, and take another name than “The Society of Jesus,” or “Jesuits.” By this decision, the Jesuit question was at last settled. Now, to shew with what facility these wily monks can renounce their most approved doctrines, and invent a new principle for every contingency, that they may succeed in any of their undertakings, we shall set forth the principal points of doctrine of the Gallican Church, which were already received in France, and which were more solemnly sanctioned in 1662.

“The Pope is the chief of the Roman Catholic religion, but he can neither excommunicate the king, nor lay an interdict upon the kingdom; nor has he any jurisdiction over temporal matters; nor can he dismiss the bishops from their office, who hold their power from Christ as his successors, and who, when he ascended up into heaven, bade them go and preach the gospel to every creature. The Pope’s legate cannot exercise any authority in France, unless empowered by the king. An appeal from the sentence of the Pope is permitted to be made to a general council, which possesses a power superior to that of the Pope; but even the decrees of council are not received in France, when they attack the rights of the king, or those of the Gallican Church; for which reason the Council of Trent itself was received in France regarding articles of faith, but not regarding matters of discipline.”[164]

These were the principal points to which the Jesuits swore conformity. How despicable must be the man who is ready to take a special oath for every occasion, and to invoke the God of truth to witness his perjury and infamy!

The Jesuits had no sooner set their foot in France than they began to spread rapidly over the country, and soon after aspired to enter the university and monopolise the whole of the education of the youth. With part of the immense fortune bequeathed to them by the Bishop of Clermont, of which they at last got possession, notwithstanding the opposition of the parliament, they built a college in the Rue St Jacques, near the Sorbonne, and, pretending to obey the orders of the parliament, which enjoined them to renounce the name of the Society of Jesus, they inscribed on the front of it, “College of the Society of the Name of Jesus.” But the university would not admit them into its bosom, notwithstanding all the intrigues of the fathers and the orders of the Court. Of this protracted contest, which terminated in favour of the Jesuits in 1616, we shall only transcribe part of an apology addressed by the university to Pope Gregory XIII.—“We do not,” wrote the university, “vex either churches or private persons; we do not trouble the order of succession; we do not solicit testaments in prejudice of the heirs, or appropriate the profits to our own interest; we do not plot devices to seize upon the benefices of the monasteries, or of any other ecclesiastical establishment, to enrich ourselves with their property, without being subject to the conditions imposed by the founders; we do not make use of the name of Jesus to deceive the consciences of princes, affirming that no one remains longer than ten years in purgatory.”[165]

Our history is becoming too pregnant with grave events to allow us to relate matters of secondary importance. We shall therefore bring down our readers to the year 1577, when was formed the celebrated league which gave occasion to the bloody and protracted civil wars of France, and of which the Jesuits were the chief instigators.

Remorse for the massacre of St Bartholomew had deprived Charles IX. of his reason, and brought him to an early grave. His brother, Henry III., who succeeded him, either awed by the fate of Charles, or occupied only with his pleasures, allowed those same Protestants whom, as Duke of Anjou, he had defeated at Moncontour and other places, to live in peace. Henry’s indolence favoured the ambitious views of the Duke of Guise, who aspired at nothing less than the throne of France. He and his partisans, particularly the Jesuits, stirred up the fanaticism of the more bigoted of the citizens against the king, who, although a scrupulous observer of all those external practices in which the Popish religion chiefly consists, was considered by the Church party a bad Catholic. A remedy was to be found, lest France should become a Protestant country. An association was accordingly set on foot, which took the name of the League, or “Holy Union.” The vulgar saw in it the bulwark of the faith—Philip of Spain, indirectly the sovereignty of France—and Henry of Guise, the throne. The members of this association took the following oath:—“I swear to God, the Creator, and under penalty of anathema and eternal damnation, that I have entered into this Catholic Association, according to the form of the treaty which has just been read to me, loyally and sincerely either to command, or to obey and serve; and I promise with my life and my honour, to continue therein to the last drop of my blood, without resisting it or withdrawing from it, at any command, or any pretext, excuse, or occasion whatsoever.”[166] In 1577, Guise was declared chief of the League; and in 1584, he, a subject, had the audacity to enter publicly into a confederacy with Philip II. of Spain. The Articles of Alliance purported, “that a confederacy, offensive and defensive, was entered into betwixt the king and the Catholic princes in behalf of themselves and their descendants, for the maintenance of the Roman Catholic religion in France as well as the Low Countries: and, on the death of Henry III., to take measures that Cardinal de Bourbon should be appointed his successor; the heretic and relapsed princes being for ever excluded from the right of succession.”[167]

Henry III.’s position became very precarious. The Guises were in possession of many of the chief towns, and Duke Henry was the idol of the people. The king, to avoid the impending danger, feigned to adhere to the League—declared himself its chief—waged war with the Protestants—and consented to give more towns and places of security into the hands of his enemies. Nevertheless the king’s opponents remitted nothing of their hostility, and filled the nation with hatred of his person, venting itself in curses and imprecations. In Paris, the stronghold of the League, the question was publicly discussed whether Henry should be deposed. The king advanced towards the capital with some troops. Guise hastened to it against the king’s express command. The people took up arms—barricades were erected—the royal army was defeated—and the king obliged to fly.[168] Maffei and Crétineau reproach the Duke of Guise for allowing him to escape uninjured. Henry, concealing his hatred, feigned again to submit, summoned a parliament to meet at Blois, and conferred upon Guise almost unlimited power over the kingdom. But in the very moment in which he saw within his grasp the prize which he so eagerly sought, he fell, along with his brother the cardinal, in the royal palace, a victim of the king’s revenge. Thus Guise perished, not, as he deserved, by the sword of justice, but by the poniard of an assassin. The deed cannot be excused. The League thundered anathemas against the king; the University of Paris excommunicated him; and the parliament declared that “the aforesaid Henry of Valois should be condemned to make honourable amends, dressed only in his shirt, with a rope about his neck, assisted by the executioner, and holding in his hand a lighted torch weighing thirty pounds; that from that moment he should be deposed, and declared unworthy of the crown of France; and that, renouncing all right to it, he should be afterwards banished and placed in a convent of the Hieromites, there to fast on bread and water for the rest of his days.”[169]

Priests and Jesuits from every pulpit poured out volleys of curses upon that tyrant, who deserved to be swept from the face of the earth. And while the king, now in league with Henry of Navarre, was marching towards Paris, Clement, a Dominican friar, stabbed him at St Cloud, on the first of August 1589.