Notwithstanding the success of the Jesuits in stopping the progress of the Reformation, it may be truthfully said that they have failed.  The principles of the Reformation dominate the world and are slowly modifying the Roman church in America.  “In truth,” says Macaulay, “if society continued to hold together, if life and property enjoyed any security, it was because common sense and common humanity restrained men from doing what the order of Jesus assured them they might with a safe conscience do.”  Our hope for the future progress of society lies in the guiding power of this same common sense and common humanity.

The restoration of the order by Pius VII., August 7th, 1814, while it renewed the papal favor, did not allay the hostility of the civil powers.  Various states have expelled them since that time, and wherever they labor, they are still the objects of open attack or ill-disguised suspicion.  Although the order still shows “some quivering in fingers and toes,” as Carlyle expresses it, the principles of the Reformation are too widely believed, and its benefits too deeply appreciated, to justify any hope or fear of the ultimate triumph of Jesuitism.

Retrospect

So the Christian monk has greatly changed since he first appeared in the deserts of Nitria, in Egypt.  He has come from his den in the mountains to take his seat in parliaments, and find his home in palaces.  He is no longer filthy in appearance, but elegant in dress and courtly in manner.  He has exchanged his rags for jewels and silks.  He is no longer the recluse of the lonely cliffs, chatting with the animals and gazing at the stars.  He is a man of the world, with schemes of conquest filling his brain and a love of dominion ruling his heart.  He is no longer a ditch-digger and a ploughman, but the proud master of councils or the cultured professor of the university.  He still swears to the three vows of celibacy, poverty and obedience, but they do not mean the same thing to him that they did to the more ignorant, less cultured, but more genuinely frank monk of the desert.  Yes, he has all but completely lost sight of his ancient monastic ideal.  He professes the poverty of Christ, but he cannot follow even so simple a man as his Saint Francis.

It is a long way from Jerome to Ignatius, but the end of the journey is nigh.  Loyola is the last type of monastic life, or changing the figure, the last great leader in the conquered monastic army.  The good within the system will survive, its truest exponents will still fire the courage and win the sympathy of the devout, but best of all, man will recover from its poison.

VII

THE FALL OF THE MONASTERIES