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Chapter 3 . Filmer’s patriarchalism versus Jesuit political ideas I nflaming political literature in early seventeenth-century england, the doctrine of the Pope’s (indirect) temporal power1 had its major and most systematic exponent in robert Bellarmine.2 His ideas were hugely popular amongst catholic theorists such as Jacob Gretser at Ingolstadt; Martin Becanus at Mainz; Francisco suarez, Pedro de ribadeneyra, Gabriel Vasquez in spain; emmanuel de sâ in Portugal; Jean Guigard in France; the Gunpowder plotter Father Henry Garnet in england.3 contributing to
not in the Church until hee hath the approbation of the Pope’. 2 For royalists, Chastel was a traitor whose misplaced stroke against the king, which resulted in a cracked tooth rather than a fatal wound, was evidence of divine intervention. Since it was believed both on the continent and in England that Jesuits were the main proponents of the theory of tyrannicide, and since Chastel had been educated at the Jesuit college of
Chapter 3 . The Puritan, the Jesuit and the Jacobean succession Paulina Kewes I n recent years, a new consensus has begun to emerge among leading early modern historians about Puritan attitudes towards the succession after the execution of Mary Queen of Scots in February 1587. Fundamental to this consensus is the claim that as soon as the Catholic Mary died on the block, godly Englishmen who hankered after further reform of the Church embraced her Protestant son James VI of Scotland as their preferred candidate for the throne. Nicholas Tyacke, for example
6 Henry Fitzsimon, the Irish Jesuits and Catholic identity in the early modern period Brian Jackson In a short biographical sketch of the distinguished Irish Jesuit Henry Fitzsimon published in Studies in 1943, James Corboy concluded his essay with a bleak assessment of life on the Jesuit mission to Ireland in 1630. Corboy asserted that after a long literary career on the continent, Fitzsimon returned from exile to Dublin where he was so harassed by persecution that he had no opportunity to write.1 Corboy was following in distinguished footsteps down a well
. Just under 240 years before the First Opium War between Britain and China began in 1839 – a conflict considered the opening act in the so-called ‘century of humiliation’ of China by foreign powers – an Italian man named Matteo Ricci arrived in Beijing. Ricci was a Jesuit missionary, who had already lived in China for the best part of twenty years by the time of his entrance to the capital. The Jesuits were roving Catholic proselytisers, known as ‘God’s Marines’ for their hardihood and their willingness to travel anywhere the Pope commanded. They spread themselves
With the help of the Jesuits, the Qianlong emperor (often said to be Chinas Sun King in the long eighteenth century) built European palaces in the Garden of Perfect Brightness and commissioned a set of twenty images engraved on copper in Paris. The Second Anglo-Chinese Opium War in 1860 not only saw the destruction of the Garden, but also of the images, of which there are only a few left in the world. The John Rylands set contains a coloured image which raises even more questions about the construction of the palaces and the after-life of the images. How did it travel from Paris to Bejing, and from Belgium to the John Rylands Library? This article probes the fascinating history of this image. It highlights the importance of Europeans in the making of Chinese history and calls for studies of China in Europe.
, Western relief organisations have experienced most challenges to their efficacy and political and moral legitimacy in the areas in which they have traditionally operated – that is to say, in the Global South. The staff of these organisations, including in leadership positions, now include many people from the South. But the concept of ‘the mission’, with its echoes of military campaigning and Jesuit proselytising, remains fundamentally the same. And it is an open question whether NGOs can sustain their legitimacy while they promote this concept
This book is a study of the complex nature of colonial and missionary power in Portuguese India. Written as a historical ethnography, it explores the evolving shape of a series of Catholic festivals that took place in Goa throughout the duration of Portuguese colonial rule in India (1510-1961), and for which the centrepiece was the “incorrupt” corpse of São Francisco Xavier, a (Spanish Basque) Jesuit missionary (1506–1552)-turned-saint (1622). Using distinct genres of source materials produced over the long duree of Portuguese colonialism in India (Xaverian biographies, European travelogues, royal decrees and Jesuit letters, a state commissioned book dedicated to Xavier, Goa guidebooks, newspaper articles, and medical reports), the book documents the historical and visual transformation of Xavier’s corporeal ritualization in death from a small-scale religious feast arranged by Jesuit missionaries (1554), into an elaborate celebration of Xavier’s canonization organized jointly by church and state (1624), and finally, into a series of “Solemn Expositions” designed by colonial officials at regular centenary intervals (1782, 1859, 1952), including the last colonial exposition of 1961 staged amidst Goa’s liberation and integration into postcolonial India. These six ritual “events”, staged at critical junctures (1554, 1624, 1782, 1859, 1952, 1961), and always centered on Xavier’s biography and corpse, provide the conceptual framework for individual chapters of the book.
2 National education: promise and paralysis In April 1762, when the Parlement of Paris ordered the Society of Jesus to relinquish control of the thirty-eight collèges it administered within the Parlement’s jurisdiction, it set off a tremendous debate about the purpose, personnel, and politics of French education. When, four months later, the Parlement expelled the Jesuits altogether and, two years after that, Louis XV expelled the order from all of France, it became apparent that the debate over education would become national in scope and that it would require
proceeding and mission agendas, and not all the paintings he saw appearing on his college walls were angelic: some showed tortured and twisted bodies, including those of men he had known; at some point in Rome he was to decide that his path lay that way. In Rome he learned to write into that dichotomy, to reconcile violence with beauty. The regular spiritual report required of every Jesuit novice was, in