Loyola is reported as having said to his secretary that “in those who offer themselves he looked less to purely natural goodness than to firmness of character and ability for business.”  But that he did not mean independent firmness of character is clearly seen in the obvious attempt of the order to destroy that noble and true independence which is the crowning glory of a lofty character.  The discipline is marvelously contrived to “scoop the will” out of the individual.  Count Paul von Hoensbroech, who recently seceded from the society, has set forth his reasons for so doing in two articles which appeared in the “Preussische Jahrbuecher.”  A most interesting discussion of these articles, in the “New World,” for December, 1894, places the opinions of the Count at our disposal.  It is quite evident that he is no passionate, blind foe of the society.  His tone is temperate and his praises cordially given.  While recognizing the genius shown in the machinery of the society and the nobility of the real aims of the Jesuitical discipline, and while protesting against the unfounded charges of impurity, and other gross calumnies against the order, Count Paul nevertheless maintains that it “rests on so unworthy a depreciation of individuality, and so exaggerated an apprehension of the virtue of obedience, as to render it unfit for its higher ends.”  The uniform of the Jesuit is not an external garb, but such freedom is insignificant in the light of the “veritable strait-jacket,” which is placed upon the inward man.  The unformed and pliable novice, usually between the ages of sixteen and twenty, is subjected to “a skillful, energetic and unremitting assault upon personal independence.”  Every device that a shrewd and powerful intellect could conceive of is employed to break up the personal will.  “The Jesuit scheme prescribes the gait, the way to hold the hands, to incline the head, to direct the eyes, to hold and move the person.”

Every novice must go through the “Spiritual Exercises” in complete solitude, twice in his life.  They occupy thirty days.  The “Account of the Conscience” is of the very essence of Jesuitism.  The ordinary confession, familiar to every Catholic, is as nothing compared with this marvelous inquiry into the secrets of the human heart and mind.  Every fault, sin, virtue, wish, design, act and thought,—­good, bad or indifferent,—­must be disclosed, and this revelation of the inner life may be used against him who makes it, “for the good of the order.”  Thus, after fifteen years of such ingenious and detailed discipline, the young man’s intellectual and moral faculties are moulded into Jesuitical forms.  He is no longer his own.  He is a pliable and obedient, even though it may be a virtuous and brilliant, tool of a spiritual master-mechanic who will use him according to his own purposes, in the interest of the society.