So that the poor Jesuit may be compelled to commit what he knows to be wrong at the bidding of his Superior. He may clearly see it to be utterly opposed to every principle of Scripture; his own conscience may turn from it with horror; his moral sense may utterly condemn it; he may see clearly that he is flying in the face of the most High God; but on he must go, because his Superior bids him; his own judgment and moral sense are to be sacrificed; he is to be absolutely blind as to the character of the action he is about to perform; one thing only he is at liberty to see clearly, and that is, that if he venture to hesitate, he will be guilty of mortal sin. The Constitution speaks indeed of the love of all perfection succeeding to the fear of offence; but in the very same clause it places this awful power in the hands of the Superior, and arms him with full authority to force on his subjects, in spite of their own consciences, by the terrific threat of the everlasting perdition of their souls. Now it may occur to some minds to inquire how a power so tremendous can be gained and maintained over so large a body of talented, spirited, and well-educated men? How is it that the chain does not snap into fragments when required to bear such a pressure? The phenomenon, I believe, may be partly explained by the power of those religious principles which are perverted by the Jesuits in order to secure their end. They call out the principle which ought to be subject to the will of God, and by transferring it from God to the Superior, contrive to perpetuate their dominion. But on this alone they are clearly unable to rely, for there are two most powerful instrumentalities employed; the one at the commencement, and the other throughout the whole of the Jesuit’s career, viz., isolation and information.