The Lying Fury of the Jesuits

Published by Americana Exchange / August 2014

Meet another prophet of the mighty Lying Fury: Father Charlevoix, author of the wonderful Histoire du Paraguay (1756). Very well known for his trilogy about the New World, Charlevoix wrote the story of his own religious congregation in the New World, and his sources were impossible to question: they were the testimonies left by other Jesuits!

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The History of Paraguay,

The Lying Fury of the Jesuits

My good friend the Lying Fury is an old dignified lady with many untold prophets. I unexpectedly came across one of them the other day, while reading Histoire du Paraguay; the author wrote extensively about the lying fury of the Jesuits in what was then known as Paraguay. His name was Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix (1682-1761), and he is very well known for his trilogy about the New World, featuring the histories of Saint-Domingue (Haiti), New France and Paraguay. A Jesuit himself, he wrote about Paraguay at a time when his congregation was under harsh criticism in Europe as well as in the New World.

Father Charlevoix

Many historians had never set a foot in the remote lands they described, and only put together different testimonies collected in libraries—Charlevoix wasn’t one of those. As soon as 1705, our French Jesuit went to New France (Canada), where he remained for four years. And in 1720, he left for a long voyage to the New World that led him from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River to Saint-Domingue. His Histoire de l’Isle Espagnole, ou de St. Domingue (Paris, 1730) is based on the manuscript of another Jesuit, Father Le Pers, and his Histoire et Description Générale de la Nouvelle-France (Paris, 1744) is also partly composed of various testimonies, but he knew what he was writing about. As a matter of fact, these two works are highly valued among connoisseurs—much more than his Histoire du Paraguay (1756), which is yet illustrated with several folding maps drawn by the famous Mr Bellin. Charlevoix had never been to South America either, and wrote his book from the memoirs of other Jesuits. “This work,” reads Les Trois Siècles de Notre Littérature (Amsterdam, 1773), “is, so to speak, the answer to many grievances directed at his Order regarding the famous Reductions of Paraguay.” Indeed, it could have been entitled History of the Jesuits in Paraguay. Of course, the Jesuits played a key role in South America, where they successfully created many apostolic Reductions (or settlements) among the Indians. They had a strong political position, too—the Spaniards resentfully saw their progress in South America, as they couldn’t enslave the Indians who had joined a Reduction. They were more than once overthrown by powerful enemies—until their ultimate downfall of 1767, related in the movie The Mission (1986). Blamed by the Spaniards who wanted to use their neophytes as slaves, accused of training the Indians to war and of secretly gathering a tremendous treasure, the Jesuits were portrayed as covetous people who didn’t really care about religion. Charlevoix endeavoured to justify their deeds in the New World, and thus became a prophet of the Lying Fury.

Converting the Savages?

The Fury of the Jesuits

Founded in 1540 by Ignace de Loyola, the Society of Jesus—or the Jesuit Order—, has probably bred the most learnt religious all of times thanks to long studies imposed on its members (15 years). As a matter of fact, the same Les Trois Siècles de Notre Littérature wrote about Charlevoix that he had the “style of a learnt man rather than of a religious,” reminding that he had “contributed for twenty years to the newspaper of Trevoux.” But the Jesuits didn’t stick to books; they were furious men in their own ways. Those who went to the New World to convert the Savages were animated by an uncommon fury that commands respect—even to those who remain critical about the colonization of the New World. They went through the virgin jungle of South America with a handful of guides only, sailed unknown rivers, crossed unhealthy morasses, ate and drank what they could find, toiled and suffered under the sun, endured diseases and hardship for weeks before reaching hostile lands populated by ferocious Indians who had never seen a white man before, and who were usually at war with any stranger—and sometimes ate those they captured; the Jesuits didn’t care, and they went to meet them without fear, playing music to temper their warlike mood; as soon as they faced these naked creatures, they treated them like disobedient children: they vehemently criticized their evil ways, read the Bible, and told them about Jesus Christ with words they couldn’t understand; then they destroyed their idols in front of their bewildered eyes! Within a few months, they could speak the language of the Indians, had translated them the Bible, erected a church in the middle of nowhere, and started to spread the Gospel in the wilderness. And these people conquered South America? This is almost unbelievable. Of course, the Reductions were sacked and destroyed several times, abandoned sometimes; and their neophytes (or disciples) scattered if not slaughtered; but they always rebuilt and repopulated them, as the Jesuits never got weary. Those who lost their lives in the process became martyrs, thus serving their Order even better—not even death could stop a furious Jesuit.

A copy of Charlevoix' book (French in-12 edition).

Monsters and Miracles

Charlevoix was a pretty good historian—especially for the 18^th century. He tried to stick to facts, and to remain critical. But in this particular case, he felt compelled to faithfully report what his religious peers had written. These holy sources being untouchable, Charlevoix had no choice but to seriously relate some unlikely miracles. Regarding Father Montoya, he confessed: “The character of this Apostolic Man, the reputation he had in Spain of being one of the most learnt men of his time, his heroic actions and the reputation of sanctity he had in America (...) do not allow me to question the facts he has reported in a book printed before his eyes.” Sometimes, Father Charlevoix’ faith was challenged by his intelligence. For instance, he was a little bit sceptical about Father Loçano’s description a tribe from the Chaco called the Collus: “It means ostrich-feet; they have thus been called because they have no calf, and because, except for their heels, their feet look like ostrich’s feet.” This might look awkward in society but it was probably a very convenient physical characteristic in the jungle. “They can run as fast as a horse,” concluded Charlevoix. The same Father Loçano also quoted a Paraguayan martyr, Father Osorio, who was positive about the fact that, stretching his arm, he couldn’t reach the head of the smallest Indian from a tribe of giants located near the Tarija River. But this is daily routine for the Lying Fury—and the Jesuits could do better.

His Mysterious Ways

All Jesuits, and hard believers, are advised not to read the rest of this paper; or to show compassion toward its lost author, who confesses that many of the miracles evoked in Histoire du Paraguay remind him too much of his dear Lying Fury. According to the doctrine of Saint Augustine, underlined Charlevoix, it would have been more glorious for the Jesuits to achieve so much without the help of God, so why pretend? But the task was too hard, and the Savages too savage. “And God had no other view with these miracles,” claimed Charlevoix, “than to inspire confidence in these peoples. (...) Everything remained to be done among such vicious people, who were dumb to the point that they hadn’t kept any trace of natural religion. Miracles were necessary.” Okay, that sounds reasonable. Let’s see what we have here.

Ruins of a mission in South America.

Divine Gangrene

In 1587 some heretic English captured five Jesuits near the Bay of Rio de la Plata. One of them, animated by a pagan fury, started to mash down some Agnus Dei—some small boxes blessed by the Pope and featuring a lamb holding a cross on the cover—while cursing the Pope. This was too much for Father Ortega, who jumped on the sinner, furiously grabbing his foot; pushed away, he was about to be put to death when the sinner started to bawl: he was feeling an extraordinary pain in his foot. His concerned friends took a look at his leg, and realized he had gangrene! “They cut off his leg, but it was already too late; the sick expired the very same day,” reported Charlevoix. Serves him right.

The Paraguayan Pegasus

One year later, Father Ortega and Father Barsena, who had gone deep into the jungle of Brazil after some pagan souls to convert, were starving to death in the middle of nowhere. Father Barsena unexpectedly ordered Father Ortega to go to a village far away to get some food. The Jesuit didn’t argue, he didn’t even think that his mission was impossible. With his last strength, he jumped on the back of his horse—why they never thought of eating up the animal is a furious question to query, I guess. “And he suddenly felt like he was flying!” On the back of his Paraguayan Pegasus, he flew over the mountain top, scattered all the warlike Indians who stood in his way, eventually reaching the village “in less than eleven hours, when he should have ridden several days.” He came back just as fast, followed by a convoy of Spaniards, who took twelve days to join him. God flew in mysterious ways in Paraguay.

Burning Cacique

At the Reduction of Lorette, in 1610, a converted Cacique (Indian chief) who was slowly going back to his former evil ways, was warned by the brave Jesuits; but he never listened, and was burnt to death by a sudden fire that miraculously started in his place. “He thus taught to the newly converted Christians that there’s a jealous God in the heavens, and that one can’t despise with impunity the warnings of His Ministers.” Amen.

And the fullness thereof

Even the animals had to bow. In 1705, the Fathers of the Reduction of Saint John the Baptist and their neophytes were hungry—but they had to finish the church before thinking about casual things. All of them agreed: better starving than leaving the house of God unfinished, as Man shall not live by bread alone... God sure appreciated such devotion. He waited for His creatures to finish His house—charity begins at home—, and then rewarded them by sending them “dozens of wild boars.” The animals simply came out of the woods, as delicious lambs to the slaughter. To make things even easier, these good animals didn’t “even care about running when fired at.” Later on, a tiger attacked an Indian, throwing him on the ground. The future victim had the brilliant idea to call on Jesus and Mary, who heard his cries. “The tiger suddenly left him alone, without hurting him, and went away.” Halleluiah! Another man, injured at the belly by an arrow, was as good as dead when he received the body of Christ—“His wound instantly healed,” wrote Charlevoix without an ounce of derision. Rise up and walk, neophyte!

Saints and Martyrs

The Jesuits needed some religious legitimacy in Paraguay. God had to prove He was with them—which He did. He went as far as sending His Apostles when necessary. Some Indians maintained that one Pay Zuma had come many centuries ago to teach their ancestors about the true God; he had told them that they would return to their pagan beliefs once he would depart but that one day, some people would come to remind them about his teachings. And when Father Montoya entered the region of Tayati in 1618, he was surprised to be welcomed by a tribe of Indians holding a cross. “One thing is certain:” stated Charlevoix, “many Spaniards have believed in this tale, and they still pretend that Pay Zuma was the Apostle Saint Thomas.” Charlevoix wasn’t convinced; he said that this tale was more easily refuted than proven. Anyway, at least two other Apostles appeared in Paraguay—and this is beyond doubt. Indeed, in 1564, Saint Simon and Saint Judea intervened near the Plata River when the powerful Cacique Gualan attacked the humble and pious Reduction of Saint Michael. As the Savages were about to plunder and sack the place, the two Apostles “appeared in a whirlwind of lightning that scared the Savages away!” How you mean!

Pustules by night

But nothing can establish a religious Order like martyrs. In 1628, at the Reduction of All Saints, the Indians savagely murdered Fathers Gonzalez and Rodriguez, and then threw their remains in the fire—sometimes the Indians grew tired of these furious guys, and just slaughtered them. But they were astonished to see that the flames didn’t touch the body of Father Rodriguez. “Their surprise grew even stronger when they heard a voice coming from the heart of Father Rodriguez, which distinctly said: A cruel death was the reward for all my love; but you could only hurt my body; my soul rejoices among the Saints in the heavens. Your parricide shall be punished, as my children shall revenge me.” Scary words coming from the bottom of the heart!  

All the wicked men who partook in the murders of the first three martyrs of Paraguay were also chastised: “The hands of those who had dipped them in their blood were covered right away with pustules; they emitted a horrible stench they could hardly stand themselves, and they saw it as a stigma of the divine Justice.” This couldn’t be questioned, as it was notified in the official documents upon which the three Fathers were canonized—furthermore, the Holy Inquisition was still burning a lot of people around the world at the time.

A Jesuit in the New World

Jesuits Legacy

Histoire du Paraguay first came out as two in-4° volumes in 1756, illustrated with 7 plates, and then as a set of six in-12° volumes the following year. The first edition might be worth a few thousands of euros, while the second one a few hundred. This isn’t a lot compared to Histoire de l’Isle Espagnole or, worst, to the very sought-after Histoire de la Nouvelle-France; probably because it’s less interesting—more about the Jesuits than about Paraguay, and full of little miracles? “This History is entertaining,” admitted Les Trois Siècles de Notre Littérature. “We can only reproach the author too many details (...). The supporting documents that fill a full volume by themselves are of little interest to the readers, for instance.” But reading can be tricky. A bit boring at first—though sometimes unwillingly funny—, this book happens to be fascinating on the whole; mostly as it draws the portraits of these incredible missionaries, who colonized a part of the New World with nothing but a Bible and their determination. They had no fear, and no doubt. They had left everything behind, and had entered the darkness to bring the light of God to the lost creatures of the dark. They were learnt men, who could speak Latin or Greek, who had thoroughly studied hundreds of complex books—but the way they endeavoured to convert the Indians was disarmingly simple, and quite demanding. That’s probably why it worked so well. Of course, they knew of the political implication of their deeds—some were probably thirsty for honours and riches too. But even those who condemn the colonization of the New World today will find it hard to blame them unconditionally. They kept a lot of Indians safe from the hostile Spaniards, who wanted to put them to hard labour; they fought against the cohorts of renegades from Brazil; they built several Reductions that were later destroyed for politics’ sake; they paved the way for the way of living they believed in. Voltaire said the downfall of their Society in the late 18^th century was to be blamed on their pride, and on their desire to influence the Kings of the Earth. No miracle happened to save the Order of de Loyola at the time—no Saint Thomas, no talking heart. The Jesuits went through hard times, indeed. But nothing could discourage such furious people.

The Jesuits were eventually rehabilitated, and in 2013 Jose Bergoglio became the first Jesuit pope ever, under the name of Francis. And guess what—he is from Argentina, which, at the time, was called Paraguay!

© Thibault Ehrengardt