When I first intimated to some of my friends my intention of writing the History of the Jesuits, most of them dissuaded me from the enterprise, as from a task too difficult. I am fully aware of all the difficulties I have to encounter in my undertaking. I am sensible that to write a complete and detailed history of the Jesuits would require more time and learning than I have to bestow: neither could such a history be brought within the compass of six or seven hundred pages. It will be my endeavour, however, to give as faithful an account of the Society as I can, to furnish an accurate narrative of facts, and an outline of the principal members of the order. Thus much, at least, with the aid of time, patience, and study, may be achieved by any one.
I confess, too, that I am encouraged by a sense of the intrinsic interest of the subject itself, which may well do much to cast a veil over my own imperfect treatment of it: for, amidst the general wreck and decay of all human things, amidst the rise and fall of dynasties, nay, of empires themselves and whole nations of men, the inquiry may indeed give us pause—_Wherein lay the seeds of that vitality in the original constitution of the Jesuits, which has served during three centuries to maintain the ranks of the Society, under many shocks, still unbroken?_ A sufficient answer to this inquiry will, I trust, be developed during the course of my narrative.
The main difficulty of my subject, as will be readily understood, lies in discovering and delineating the true character of the Jesuits: for, take the Jesuit for what he ought or appears to be, and you commit the greatest of blunders. Draw the character after what the Jesuit seems to be in London, and you will not recognise your portrait in the Jesuit of Rome. The Jesuit is the man of circumstances. Despotic in Spain, constitutional in England, republican in Paraguay, bigot in Rome, idolater in India, he shall assume and act out in his own person, with admirable flexibility, all those different features by which men are usually to be distinguished from each other. He will accompany the gay woman of the world to the theatre, and will share in the excesses of the debauchee. With solemn countenance, he will take his place by the side of the religious man at church, and he will revel in the tavern with the glutton and the sot. He dresses in all garbs, speaks all languages, knows all customs, is present everywhere though nowhere recognised—and all this, it should seem (O monstrous blasphemy!), for the greater glory of God—_ad majorem Dei gloriam_.