Jesuit moral theologians have again and again been condemned
by the pope and declared untenable. Many of these can be
found in Viva’s Condemned Propositions. As early as 1554 the
Jesuits were censured by the Sorbonne, chiefly at the instance
of Eustache de Bellay, bishop of Paris, as being dangerous in
matters of faith. Melchor Cano, a Dominican, one of the ablest
divines of the 16th century, never ceased to lift up his testimony
against them, from their first beginnings till his own death in
1560; and, unmollified by the bribe of the bishopric of the
Canaries, which their interest procured for him, he succeeded
in banishing them from the university of Salamanca. Carlo
Borromeo, to whose original advocacy they owed much, especially
in the council of Trent, found himself attacked in his own cathedral
pulpit and interfered with in his jurisdiction. He withdrew
his protection and expelled them from his colleges and churches;
and he was followed in 1604 in this policy by his cousin and
successor Cardinal Federigo Borromeo. St Theresa learnt,
in after years, to mistrust their methods, although she was grateful
to them for much assistance in the first years of her work.
The credit of the Society was seriously damaged by the publication,
at Cracow, in 1612, of the Monita Secreta. This book,
which is undoubtedly a forgery, professes to contain the authoritative
secret instructions drawn up by the general Acquaviva and
given by the superiors of the Society to its various officers and
members. A bold caricature of Jesuit methods, the book has
been ascribed to John Zaorowsky or to Cambilone and Schloss,
all ex-Jesuits, and it is stated to have been discovered in manuscript
by Christian of Brunswick in the Jesuit college at Prague.
It consists of suggestions and methods for extending the influence
of the Jesuits in various ways, for securing a footing in fresh
places, for acquiring wealth, for creeping into households and
leading silly rich widows captive and so forth, all marked with
ambition, craft and unscrupulousness. It had a wide success
and popularity, passing through several editions, and even to
this day it is used by controversialists as unscrupulous as the
original writers. It may, perhaps, represent the actions of some
individuals who allowed their zeal to outrun their discretion,
but surely no society which exists for good and is marked by so
many worthy men could systematically have conducted its
operations in such a manner. Later on a formidable assault
was made on Jesuit moral theology in the famous Provincial
Letters of Blaise Pascal (q.v.), eighteen in number, issued under
the pen-name of Louis de Montalte, from January 1656 to March
1657. Their wit, irony, eloquence and finished style have kept
them alive as one of the great French classics—a destiny more
fortunate than that of the kindred works by Antoine Arnauld,
Théologie morale des Jésuites, consisting of extracts from writings
of members of the Society, and Morale pratique des Jésuites,
made up of narratives professing to set forth the manner in
which they carried out their own maxims. But, like most
controversial writers, the authors were not scrupulous in their
quotations, and by giving passages divorced from their contexts
often entirely misrepresented their opponents. The immediate
reply on the part of the Jesuits, The Discourses of Cleander and
Eudoxus by Père Daniel, could not compete with Pascal’s work
in brilliancy, wit or style; moreover, it was unfortunate enough
to be put upon the Index of prohibited books in 1701. The
reply on behalf of the Society to Pascal’s charges of lax
morality, apart from mere general denials, is broadly as follows:—
(1) St Ignatius himself, the founder of the Society, had a special aversion from untruthfulness in all its forms, from quibbling, equivocation or even studied obscurity of language, and it would be contrary to the spirit of conformity with his example and institutions for his followers to think and act otherwise. Hence, any who practised equivocation were, so far, unfaithful to the Society. (2) Several of the cases cited by Pascal are mere abstract hypotheses, many of them now obsolete, argued simply as intellectual exercises, but having no practical bearing whatever. (3) Even such as do belong to the sphere of actual life are of the nature of counsel to spiritual physicians, how to deal with exceptional maladies; and were never intended to fix the standard of moral obligation for the general public. (4) The theory that they were intended for this latter purpose and do represent the normal teaching of the Society becomes more untenable in exact proportion as this immorality is insisted on, because it is a matter of notoriety that the Jesuits themselves have been singularly free from personal, as distinguished from corporate, evil repute; and no one pretends that the large number of lay-folk whom they have educated or influenced exhibit greater moral inferiority than others.
The third of these replies is the most cogent as regards Pascal, but the real weakness of his attack lies in that nervous dread of appeal to first principles and their logical result which has been the besetting snare of Gallicanism. Pascal, at his best, has mistaken the part for the whole; he charges to the Society what, at the most, are the doings of individuals; and from these he asserts the degeneration of the body from its original standard; whereas the stronger the life and the more extensive the natural development, side by side will exist marks of degeneration; and a society like the Jesuits has no difficulty in asserting its life independently of such excrescences or, in time, in freeing itself from them.
A charge persistently made against the Society is that it teaches that the end justifies the means. And the words of Busembaum, whose Medulla theologiae has gone through more than fifty editions, are quoted in proof. True it is that Busembaum uses these words: Cui licitus est finis etiam licent media. But on turning to his work (ed. Paris 1729, p. 584, or Lib. vi. Tract vi. cap. ii., De sacramentis, dubium ii.) it will be found that the author is making no universal application of an old legal maxim; but is treating of a particular subject (concerning certain lawful liberties in the marital relation) beyond which his words cannot be forced. The sense in which other Jesuit theologians—e.g. Paul Laymann (1575–1635), in his Theologia moralis (Munich, 1625), and Ludwig Wagemann (1713–1792), in his Synopsis theologiae moralis (Innsbruck, 1762)—quote the axiom is an equally harmless piece of common sense. For instance, if it is lawful to go on a journey by railway it is lawful to take a ticket. No one who put forth that proposition would be thought to mean that it is lawful to defraud the company by stealing a ticket; for the proviso is always to be understood, that the means employed should, in themselves, not be bad but good or at least indifferent. So when Wagemann says tersely Finis determinat probitatem actus he is clearly referring to acts which in themselves are indifferent, i.e. indeterminate. For instance: shooting is an indifferent act, neither good nor bad in itself. The morality of any specified shooting depends upon what is shot, and the circumstances attending that act: shooting a man in self-defence is, as a moral act, on an entirely different plane to shooting a man in murder. It has never been proved, and never can be proved, although the attempt has frequently been made, that the Jesuits ever taught the nefarious proposition ascribed to them, which would be entirely subversive of all morality. Again, the doctrine of probabilism is utterly misunderstood. It is based on an accurate conception of law. Law to bind must be clear and definite; if it be not so, its obligation ceases and liberty of action remains. No probable opinion can stand against a clear and definite law; but when a law is doubtful in its application, in certain circumstances, so is the obligation of obedience: and as a doubtful law is, for practical purposes, no law at all, so it superinduces no obligation. Hence a probable opinion is one, founded on reason and held on serious grounds, that the law does not apply to certain specified cases; and that the law-giver therefore did not intend to bind. It is the principle of equity applied to law. In moral matters a probable opinion, that is one held on no trivial grounds but by unprejudiced and solid thinkers, has no place where the voice of conscience is clear, distinct and formed.
Two causes have been at work to produce the universal failure of the great Society in all its plans and efforts. First stands its lack of really great intellects. It has had its golden age. No society can keep up to its highest level. Nothing can be wider of the truth than the popular conception of the ordinary Jesuit as a being of almost superhuman abilities and universal knowledge. The Society, numbering as it does so many thousands, and with abundant means of devoting men to special branches of study, has, without doubt, produced men of great intelligence and solid learning. The average member, too, on account of his long and systematic training, is always equal and often superior to the average member of any other equally large body, besides being disciplined by a far more perfect drill. But it takes great men to carry out great plans; and of really great men, as the outside world knows and judges, the Society has been markedly barren from almost the first. Apart from its founder and his early companion, St Francis Xavier, there is none who stands in the very first rank. Laynez and Acquaviva were able administrators and politicians; the Bollandists (q.v.) were industrious workers and have developed a critical spirit from which much good can be expected; Francisco Suarez,
