The purpose of the Jesuit society, as set forth in the constitutions, is to care for souls, to teach the youth, and to convert the heathen-a truly benevolent work. But there is an unwritten constitution of Jesuitism, the maintenance of which has spread awe and terror on every side. In obedience to this unwritten code the Jesuits planned and sent out the Spanish Armada, they dictated to Louis XIV the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, they instilled into English Catholics the sentiments which led to the conspiracy of Guy Fawkes, and in our own generation they instigated the French invasion of Germany for the purpose of overthrowing a great Protestant power. The obedience thus rendered to the unwritten law has more than counterbalanced the good accomplished through the constitutions of Ignatius Loyola; therefore many European rulers have, at different times; expelled the order from their dominions, and even the sovereign pontiff, Clement XIV, suppressed the order by a brief in 1773. The formal suppression only inconvenienced the Jesuits for a time, they still worked on in secret, and prepared the way for a restoration, which came in 1814, when Pius VII sent forth a bull revoking the brief of suppression. There was a flavor of prophecy in the declaration of Francis Borgia, at one time general of the society, when he said, "Like lambs have we crept into power, like wolves have we used it, like dogs shall we be driven out, but like eagles shall we renew our youth.”

Driven out from so many countries of Europe, subject to so many changes in religion and politics in the Old World, it is but natural that they should fly to the New World and seek here a renewal of ancient power. For two hundred and fifty years they have had missions in this country, and at present the society has fourteen colleges within the limits of the United States, and claims a membership of over a thousand accepted Jesuists. As a spiritual polity Jesuitism may carry out its written code even in republican America, but it remains to be seen whether, as a secular scheme, exerting an influence on the politics of the country

by whispering its counsels in the ears of senators and presidents, it can have any influence against the voice of the people.

The biographers of Ignatius Loyola have surrounded him with so much that is factitious, that it is not easy to clearly analyze his character. Steinmetz, who passed a year in the novitiate of the English Jesuits, says of Loyola: "His mind was endowed with the cunning of the fox, the constructiveness of the spider (and its patience withal), the sagacity of the elephant, and the cool common sense of— Oliver Cromwell. Ignatius was no fanatic, any more than Cromwell, but both knew how to make and manage fanatics to serve a purpose. He has been spoken of as an example of energy, perseverance, ambition, iron will, glowing zeal, heroic boldness-all these traits of character are consistent with what is evidently his chief distinction, namely, unity of purpose.

Loyola was pre-eminently a man of one idea. One thought, that of a universal spiritual domination, early took possession of his mind and governed his whole subsequent career. The "Spiritual Exercises" and the constitutions sprung up out of that idea as their germ. Under the influence of that thought every vulgar and earthly desire perished within him, and even those swelling emotions which made him at first a visionary enthusiast, subsided in the presence of that great idea, and rolled their billows silently through the deeps of his bosom. With one idea in mind he gathered a company of men about him, inured them to hardship, trained them to activity, rendered them stoics, mystics, enthusiasts, and then combined them into a society practically adapted to aid him in realizing this idea.

No instance is mentioned of Loyola losing sight of his master motive, or of giving way, except for a moment, to any infringement of it. When the order was once in danger in Germany, he said, "If by ordinary means I can not succeed, I will sell myself rather than disband my German phalanx!" Such an exclamation reveals an indomitable

will; and yet, in dealing with persons in authority, he vanquished them by holding tenaciously to his one purpose, while, by his unresisting humiliation, he seemed to yield all. Surely the history of the Jesuit society teaches us that the "disciple" has been " as his master!"

Loyola reminds us of no one by similarity of mind and purpose, but by way of contrast in character and in work he suggests his famous contemporary, Luther.

Luther, credulous as he was in matters that did not touch points of theology, reasoned hard, though not always logically, on every inch of Biblical ground; Loyola, who was wholly passive on that ground, shewed himself a shrewd skeptic regarding supernatural disclosures. Luther married a nun; it is said that for thirty years Loyola never looked upon the face of a woman. To overthrow the houses of his order was the triumph of one; to establish a new order was the glory of the other. The career of Luther opened in a cell and ended amid secular cares; the life of Loyola led him from a youth of camp and palace to an old age of religious thought. Demons haunted both. To the German they appeared as foul and malignant fiends, to the Spaniard as angels of light. With Luther society was comparatively nothing, and the individual all; with Loyola the man was nought, and the community every thing.

These two representative men left the world during the sixteenth century, but their lengthened shadows became embodied anew in the institutions of Protestantism and Jesuitism. Institutions are known by their fruits. The fruits of the Jesuit order are before the world, and the verdict which posterity pronounces upon them is, in reality, a judgment for or against Ignatius Loyola, the founder of Jesuitism.

ARTICLE III.

PRIMITIVE MAN.

BY PROFESSOR L. E. HICKS.

WHEN the Right Honorable William Ewart Gladstone published his "Juventus Mundi" there was a poetic promise, a freshness, a youthful charm in the title which, considering the somewhat dull and prosy character of the performance, might have suggested to a bilious critic the accusation that the author was attempting to obtain readers under false pretenses. "The Youth of the World!" what rose-hued pictures of a golden age of idyllic innocence. and purity does that title conjure up in the imagination!

But if there was some discrepancy between the title and the contents of that book, still more was there between that title and the actual chronology of primitive man. Instead of the Greek Heroic Age being the youth of the world, the world was already old when Homer wrote. The blind old bard was not more hoary with age than were the political and social customs which he so faithfully delineates. For a partial proof of this we need not go farther than this very work of the eloquent and versatile British statesman. He gives a list of words common to the Greek and Latin, which shows that Greek civilization was erected upon a more ancient Pelasgian civilization. But for the complete proof we must take a broader survey of the facts furnished by comparative philology, ethnology, archæology, and geology. That civilization which preceded the Greek was, in a measure, historical; a far more antique, prehistoric civilization preceded that. In that ancestral center somewhere in Central Asia, ages before Achilles hurled the spear and Homer sang his mighty deeds, the Aryan progenitors

of the Greek, the Roman, the Teuton, the Slav, the Persian, and the Hindoo had learned "the arts of plowing, of making roads, of building ships, of weaving and sewing, of erecting houses; they had counted at least as far as one hundred. They had domesticated the most important animals, the cow, the horse, the sheep, the dog; they were acquainted with the most useful metals, and armed with iron hatchets, whether for peaceful or warlike purposes. They had recognized the bonds of blood and the bonds of marriage; they followed their leaders and kings, and the distinction between right and wrong was fixed by laws and customs. They were impressed with the idea of a divine. Being, and they invoked it by various names.

All this can

Long be

be proved by the evidence of language. fore the earliest literary documents of Sanskrit, which go back to 1500 B. C., long before Homer, long before the first appearance of Latin, Celtic, German, and Slavonic speech, there must have been an earlier and more primitive language, the fountain-head of all, just as Latin was the fountain-head of Italian, French, and Spanish. How much time was required for this gradual change and separation; how long it took before the Hindoos and Greeks, starting from the same center, became so different in their language as the Sanskrit of the Veda is from the Greek of Homer, is a question which no honest scholar would venture to answer in definite chronological language. It must have taken several generations, it may have taken hundreds or thousands of years. "'*

But were the Aryans primitive men? In a certain sense they were primitive, but not primordial. Even in them we have not reached the very origin of humanity. The youth of the world lies still farther back in the mists of time. For proof of this we turn first to ethnology. We assume the specific unity of mankind. This assumption can not be called a violent or unreasonable one, since the latest voice

*Max Muller, "Science of Language," page 235; and "Chips from a German Workshop," Vol. II, page 251.