Star Wars and the Suppression of the Jesuits

Recently a screenplay has surfaced of a discarded project from a major science fiction film studio. We believe that this film was part of a planned trilogy, with previous titles including the (now lost) The Phantom Heresy and Attack of the Convulsionnaires. Notes suggest that another six films, possibly set later in the series, include A New Pope, The First Empire Strikes Back, The Return of the Jesuit, The Faith Awakens, The Lourdes Jesuit, and The Rise of Newman. Here we present excerpts from the third and only surviving script from that series.

A long time ago in a Pontificate far, far away…

STAR CRUSADES: REVENGE OF THE JANSENISTS

War! The Kingdom is crumbling under attacks by the ruthless Jansenist Archbishop, Cornelis Steenoven. There are heroes on both sides. Concupiscence is everywhere.

In a stunning move, the fiendish Regalist leader, the Marquis of Pombal, has swept into the Kingdom’s capital and kidnapped Chancellor Le Paige, leader of the Parlement of Paris.

As the Schismatic Army attempts to flee the besieged capital with their valuable hostage, two Jesuits lead a desperate mission to rescue the captive Chancellor. . .

“I fear the Jesuits. The Company keeps pushing for more control. They’re shrouded in secrecy and obsessed with maintaining their autonomy . . . ideals. I find simply incomprehensible in the Gallican Church.”

GREGOIRE: The Jesuits are selfless . . . they only care about others.

LE PAIGE smiles.

LE PAIGE: Or so you’ve been trained to believe. Why is it, then, that they have asked you to do something you feel is wrong?

GREGOIRE: I’m not sure it’s wrong.

LE PAIGE: Have they asked you to betray the Jesuit rule? The Constitution? A friendship? Your own values? Think. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of casuistry. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jesuits and the Jansenists.

GREGOIRE is deep in thought.

LE PAIGE: Did you ever hear the tragedy of Blaise Pascal, the Mathematical?

GREGOIRE: No.

LE PAIGE: I thought not. It’s not a story the Jesuits would tell you. It’s a Jansenist legend. Blaise Pascal was a solitaire of Port-Royal, so powerful and so wise he could use probability to create faith … He had such a knowledge of efficacious grace that he could even keep the ones he cared about from lachrymal fistulae.

GREGOIRE: He could actually save people from painful eye ailments?

LE PAIGE: Efficacious grace is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be supernatural.

GREGOIRE: What happened to him?

LE PAIGE: He became so ascetic . . . the only thing he was afraid of was ending his ascesis, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice forced him to sign the Formula on his deathbed. (smiles) Pascal never saw it coming. It’s ironic…he could save others from doubting, but not himself.

GREGOIRE: Is it possible to learn this power?

LE PAIGE: Not from a Jesuit.

“Oh yes. Superior General Ricci, the Negotiator. We’ve been waiting for you.”

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: It won’t be long before the armies of the Pope track us here. I am sending you to the Muratori system. It is a moderate planet which generates a great deal of rationalizing interference. You will be safe there.

CARDINAL NOAILLES: Safe? Chancellor Le Paige managed to escape your grip, Marquis, without Archbishop Steenoven. I have doubts about your ability to keep us free of enthusiasm.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Be thankful, Cardinal, you have not found yourself in my grip . . . Your ship is waiting.

LORENZO RICCI is deep in thought.

The JESUIT removes his cloak and jumps down behind the MARQUIS.

RICCI: Hello, there!

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Father Ricci, you are a bold one. I find your behavior bewildering . . . Surely you realize you’re doomed, (to mendicants) Expel him!

About a HUNDRED BATTLE MENDICANTS surround RICCI, MARQUIS OF POMBAL, and his BODYGUARDS. RICCI looks around, then walks right up to the MARQUIS OF POMBAL. They stare at each other for a moment.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Enough of this.

The BODYGUARDS raise their power crosiers to knock RICCI away, but RICCI ducks as the deadly crosiers whistle over his head. The Jesuit’s lightsaber ignites, and RICCI deftly cuts one BODYGUARD in two. His crosier flies into the air and is caught by the MARQUIS OF POMBAL. The other THREE BODYGUARDS attack RICCI with an intense fury. RICCI uses casuistic mind-tricks to release a piece of equipment from the ceiling. It drops on the BODYGUARDS, smashing them. RICCI walks toward the MARQUIS OF POMBAL, slashing the last BODYGUARD to pieces. BATTLE MENDICANTS move toward RICCI.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Back away. I will deal with this Jesuit regicide myself.

RICCI: Your move.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: You fool. I have been trained in your Jesuit arts by Archbishop Steenoven himself. Attack, Ricci!

“The Company will make up its own mind who is to be the King’s confessor, not the Ordinary.”

LE PAIGE: Monseigneur Le Tellier. I take it the Marquis of Pombal has been destroyed then. I must say, you’re here sooner than expected.

LE TELLIER: In the name of the Parlement of Paris, you are under arrest, Chancellor.

LE PAIGE: Are you threatening me, Monseigneur Jesuit?

LE TELLIER: The Parlement will decide your fate.

LE PAIGE: (burst of anger) I am the Parlement!

LE TELLIER: Not yet!

LE PAIGE: It’s regicide, then.

LE TELLIER: You are under arrest, My Lord.

After an intense fight, GREGOIRE enter the scene. LE TELLIER has cornered LE PAIGE and deprived him of his lightsaber.

LE PAIGE: Gregoire! I told you it would come to this. I was right. The Jesuits are taking over.

LE TELLIER: You old fool. The oppression of the Rigorists will never return. Your plot to regain control of the Kingdom is over . . . you have lost . . .

LE PAIGE: No! No! You will be suppressed!

LE PAIGE shoots convulsionnaire lightning from his fingers.

LE PAIGE: He is a heretic, Gregoire!

LE TELLIER: He’s the heretic. Stop him!

LE PAIGE: Come to your senses, boy. The Jesuits are in revolt. They will betray you, just as they betrayed me.

LE TELLIER: Aarrrrggghhhhh . . .

LE PAIGE: You are not one of them, Gregoire. Don’t let him kill me.

LE TELLIER: Aarrrrggghhhhh . . .

LE PAIGE: I have the power to save the Gallican Church. You must choose. You must stop him!

LE TELLIER: Don’t listen to him, Gregoire.

LE PAIGE: Help me! Don’t let him kill me. I can’t hold on any longer. Ahhhhhhh . . . ahhhhhhh . . . ahhhhhhh . . . I can’t … I give up. Help me. I am weak … I am too weak. Don’t kill me. I give up. I’m dying. I can’t hold on any longer.

LE TELLIER: I am going to end this once and for all.

GREGOIRE: You can’t kill him, Master. He must stand trial.

LE TELLIER: He has control of the Parlement and the Court. He is too dangerous to be kept alive.

LE PAIGE: I’m too weak. Don’t kill me. Please.

GREGOIRE: It is not the Jesuit way . . . He must live . . .

LE PAIGE: Please don’t, please don’t . . .

GREGOIRE: I need him . . .

LE PAIGE: Please don’t . . .

GREGOIRE: NO!!!

Just as LE TELLIER is about to excommunicate LE PAIGE, GREGOIRE steps in and cuts off the Jesuit’s hand holding the lightsaber.

As LE TELLIER stares at GREGOIRE in shock, LE PAIGE springs to life.

LE PAIGE: Grace! Unlimited efficacious grace!

The full force of LE PAIGE’S powerful convulsionnaire lightning blasts LE TELLIER. He attempts to deflect them with his one good hand, but the force is too great. He convulses out the window and falls twenty stories to his death, though he is miraculously cured of an eye disorder on the way. No more screams. No more moans.

“The attempt on my divine rights as a bishop have left me scarred…and deformed.”

GREGOIRE: I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of St. Augustine.

LE PAIGE: Good. Good. Grace is strong with you. A powerful Jansenist you will become. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth… Blois.

GREGOIRE: Thank you, Monseigneur.

LE PAIGE: Arise, Bishop.

LE PAIGE is putting on his dark cloak: he is now fully DARTH FEBRONIUS.

LE PAIGE: Because the Company did not trust you, my young apprentice, I believe you are the only Jesuit with no knowledge of this plot. When the Jesuits learn what has transpired here, they will kill us, along with the King.

GREGOIRE: I agree. The Jesuits’ next move will be against the Throne.

LE PAIGE: Every single Jesuit is now an enemy of the Kingdom. You understand that, don’t you?

GREGOIRE: I understand, Monseigneur.

LE PAIGE: We must move quickly. The Jesuits are relentless; if they are not all suppressed, it will be civil war without end. First, I want you to go to the Lycée Louis-le-Grand. We will catch them off balance. Do what must be done, Lord Blois. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Only then will you be strong enough with the reasonable side of the faith to save the Gallican Church.

GREGOIRE: What about the other Jesuits spread across Christendom?

LE PAIGE: Their betrayal will be dealt with. After you have suppressed all the Jesuits in the Lycée, go to the Muratori system. Wipe out Cardinal Noailles and the other Third Party leaders. Once more, the Jansenists will rule the Church, and we shall have the Peace of Clement IX.

“The Appeal is over. Lord Febronius promised us the Peace of the Church…we only want … nooooo…”

LE PAIGE: Emperor Joseph, the time has come. Execute Dominus Ac Redemptor.

JOSEPH II: It will be done, my lord.

“Faith in your new apprentice, misplaced may be, as is your faith in the rigorist interpretation of the Moral Law.”

ST ALPHONSUS: I hear a new apprentice, you have, Cardinal. Or should I call you Darth Febronius?

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Monseigneur Liguori, you survived.

ST ALPHONSUS: Surprised?

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Your laxism blinds you, Monseigneur Liguori. Now you will experience the full power of tutiorism!

They fight.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: I have waited a long time for this moment, my little Neapolitan friend. At last, the Jesuits are no more.

ST. ALPHONSUS: Not if anything I have to say about it, Lord Febronius.

ST. ALPHONSUS uses Baroque Marian devotionalism to throw DARTH FEBRONIUS back, knocking him clear over his desk and onto the floor in a heap.

ST. ALPHONSUS: (continuing) At an end your rule is and not merciful enough it was, I must say.

“From my point of view, the Jesuits are evil!”

MEDICAL MENDICANT: My Lord, the Constitution is finished …

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Good. Good.

The MENDICANT moves back to the table where DARTH BLOIS lies. The table begins to move upright. DARTH FEBRONIUS moves in next to DARTH BLOIS.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: (continuing) Lord Blois, can you hear me?

DARTH BLOIS, with his dark mask and helmet, moves up into the frame until he is in a CLOSEUP.

DARTH BLOIS: Yes, Monseigneur.

DARTH BLOIS looks around the room.

DARTH BLOIS: (continuing) Where is the Gallican Church? Is it safe, is it all right?

DARTH FEBRONIUS moves closer to the half droid/half man.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: I’m afraid it died … it seems in the Terror, you killed it.

A LOW GROAN emanates from BLOIS’s mask. Suddenly everything in the room begins to implode, including some of the MENDICANTS.

DARTH BLOIS: I couldn’t have! It was alive! I felt it! It was alive! It’s impossible! No!!!

On Gallicanism and Ultramontanism

CouncilofConstance.jpg

Scene from the Council of Constance, the Sixteenth Ecumenical Council (Source)

Over at Notre Dame’s Church Life Journal, there are two important pieces worth your time. The first, Dr. Taylor Patrick O’Neill’s “A Defense of Ultramontanism Contra Gallicanism,” is a theological analysis of the recent use of “ultramontanism” as a pejorative in Catholic discourse. Dr. O’Neill, a Neo-Thomist theologian, suggests that Ultramontanism is “the golden mean” by which to preserve a healthy and authentically Catholic respect for the Papacy. He writes:

But how does the historical usage of the term “ultramontane” hold any significance for us today? Given that the term arose as an insult against those who challenged the claims of Gallicanism, and given that those who championed papal primacy over local kings and bishops were legitimized at Vatican I, the term ought not to be associated with heterodoxy but rather orthodoxy.

To equate ultramontanism and orthodoxy is an extraordinary claim. While Dr. O’Neill recognizes that there are some excessively papalist versions of ultramontanism – a phenomenon he would prefer to call “super-ultramontanism” or “ultra-ultramontanism” – he fails to escape the very alienation from the term’s “historical significance” that he attempts to address.

Benigni_Umberto

Umberto Benigni (1862-1934), Ultramontane church historian. (Source)

Take, for instance, his citation of Umberto Benigni’s article on “Ultramontanism” in the 1912 Catholic Encyclopedia. The passage O’Neill cites reads:

For Catholics it would be superfluous to ask whether Ultramontanism and Catholicism are the same thing: assuredly, those who combat Ultramontanism are in fact combating Catholicism, even when they disclaim the desire to oppose it.

If O’Neill had borrowed his words merely for a theological point, we might pass over the citation. But his is an historical judgment, not primarily a theological one. O’Neill doesn’t mention that Benigni is an out-dated, partisan, and sectarian Church historian whose article manifests those faults. It is hard to imagine any contemporary historian making much use of Benigni, whose other works include a volume entitled Ritual Murder Among the Jews (Belgrade, 1926-29).

Ultramontanism arose as a coherent and self-identified ecclesiological tendency under the pressures of post-Napoleonic Europe. While Papalism has always existed in the Church, the emergence of a self-consciously “Ultramontane” party before and after Vatican I was bound up with the Catholic response to modernity. And in some places – especially France – it was synonymous with less savory elements such as antisemitism. This fact alone hardly invalidates O’Neill’s theological point. But if we want to look at the term’s “historical significance,” I see little way to escape the actual history. “Historical significance” might just as well mean “connotations” as any sort of precise theological definition. O’Neill delimits ultramontanism by confining it to the realm of ideas as a functionally timeless truth. Yet he mires Gallicanism in the muck of human history. Ultramontanism is just the consistent teaching of the Church; Gallicanism, by contrast, is the small and fractious complaint of tendentious and self-interested minorities such as French kings and the Old Catholic schismatics. This discursive move may not be disingenuous, but it does set up a problematic historical imbalance. Ultramontanism is just as historically-conditioned as Gallicanism. Both involve something rather more than mere ideas – they enlisted social, political, and ecclesiastical movements, not always with very good results. And unfortunately, some of O’Neill’s history is simply incorrect.

At the same publication, the historian Dr. Shaun Blanchard’s “A Quasi-Defense of Gallicanism” provides some helpful correctives. It is a nuanced and well-argued piece (and well-sourced, too – Dr. Blanchard has seen fit to provide his readers with eight end-notes referring to reputable historical literature).

Against O’Neill’s suggestion that Gallicanism only arose after the Reformation, Blanchard correctly notes that the Medieval Conciliarist tradition most eloquently expressed by Jean Gerson (1368-1429) and the fathers of the Council of Constance (1414-18) provide ample groundwork for what would later be called “Gallicanism.” And Dr. Blanchard is right to point out that “Gallicanism” was never just one phenomenon, but a disparate tendency that crystallized into different forms of resistance to Papal centralization – not all of which were at play in Vatican I. Moreover, Blanchard correctly argues that, against Benigni and O’Neill’s interpretation, the Gallican minority at Vatican I preserved certain ecclesiological truths later vindicated by Vatican II. One could go on. Blanchard provides a great deal more historical background than O’Neill in support of his point.

blessed_neman_winter_cappa

Cardinal Newman in his winter cappa. The man was no Ultramontanist. (Source)

Blanchard’s defense of Gallican thinkers such as Gerson, Bossuet, and Fleury is admirable. One could add to their names that of Cardinal Newman, whose soft-conciliarist ecclesiology earned the ire of ultramontanists like Cardinal Manning and W.G. Ward and Monsignor George Talbot, who famously wrote to Manning,

What is the province of the laity? To hunt, to shoot, to entertain? These matters they understand, but to meddle with ecclesiastical matters they have no right at all, and this affair of Newman is a matter purely ecclesiastical…Dr. Newman is the most dangerous man in England, and you will see that he will make use of the laity against your Grace.

None of this broader historical context appears in O’Neill’s piece. Perhaps it’s a little unfair to demand it, insofar as O’Neill is more interested in our contemporary debates than in the genealogy of the terms at play. But if we are to properly recognize “the historical significance” of ultramontanism, then we can’t really dodge the issue. If O’Neill is right to suggest that “the term ought not to be associated with heterodoxy but rather orthodoxy,” then men like Newman are beyond the pale of orthodoxy. And that seems like rather an impoverished vision of the Catholic intellectual life. I will conclude with Dr. Blanchard’s own measured words on the matter.

My point in this qualified defense of Gallicanism is not that we should “return” to Gallicanism, if such a thing were even possible. Neither must we equate ultramontanism with Catholic orthodoxy, simply because ultramontanes triumphed at Vatican I. Catholic orthodoxy is too big to be equated with either. The Catholic faith is big enough and dynamic enough to include what is good and true in ultramontanism and in Gallicanism, and likewise to reject what is harmful, false, or exaggerated in both.

Read them both.

Saint-Denis, Liturgy, and a Royal Nun

StDenis

St. Denys, pray for us! (Source)

Canticum Salomonis has a great little piece on the Sequence of St. Denys. Liturgical nerds will find it of particular interest. It mainly attracts my own attention due to a fascinating tidbit:

Beginning with the new Parisian missal promulgated by the Lord Archbishop François de Harlay in 1684, the neo-Gallican liturgical books that festered in France during the Enlightenment Age altered this sequence to expunge any connection between St Dionysius the Areopagite and St Dionysius of Paris. The Abbey of St-Denys, however, remained firm in defending the Greek origins of its patron, and sung the original text until the Revolution.

I’m unaware of any serious scholarship so far that has plunged into the liturgical dynamics of the Revolution – though certainly, the Gallicans, Jansenists, and Cisalpines all had ideas about liturgical reform. What an intriguing project a deeper study might be. Perhaps John McManners has looked at it all already, and I simply haven’t gotten to that part of his famous and positively rococo two-volume study, Church and Society in Eighteenth-Century France.

Madame Louise, Prioress of Saint-Denis. (Source)

Saint-Denis was an important place in the 1780’s. Madame Louise, daughter of Louis XV and aunt of Louis XVI, entered the Carmel of Saint-Denis while her father was still alive. As Sister Thérèse de Saint-Augustin, she eventually rose to the rank of Prioress. Saint-Denis thus became a center of the Parti Dévot, the most conservative (some would say reactionary) part of the French court and church. It’s hardly surprising that the great Abbey there would likewise remain a bastion of liturgy that might otherwise be regarded as “superstitious” or “backwards” by the more radical portions of the French church.

A Startling Passage out of Peter Anson

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“Gnostic Catholic” vestments from Third Republic France. Note in particular the episcopal vesture at right. (Source)

In Peter Anson’s remarkable volume, Bishops at Large: Some Autocephalous Churches of the Past Hundred Years and their Founders (1964), we learn of many episcopi vagantes and their kindred spirits. It seems that several of these strange fellows dabbled (or more than dabbled) in the occult. Many also coupled that occultism with an interest in ancient heresies, which they sought to resurrect. In a chapter on the succession from René Vilatte, we stumble across a shocking little paragraph:

Mgr. Giraud and most of the priests and layfolk of the Gallican Church, even if not Gnostics themselves, were closely associated with them. Gnosticism was very much in the air fifty or sixty years ago. Even the Benedictine monks of Solesmes felt it worth their while to study what are known as the ‘Magic Vowels’ used in Gnostic rites and ceremonies. In 1901 they published a book entitled Le chant gnostico-magique. (Anson 309)

What an extraordinary claim. The monks of Solesmes, Dom Prosper Gueranger’s own sons, publishing studies of Gnostic chants! Dear readers, do any of you have any information on this bizarre note? I have been able to find evidence, however scanty, that the book Anson mentions was indeed published. But it surely must count as one of the rarest volumes in the assembled miscellanea of liturgical history. I would appreciate any leads whatsoever. Might some of my liturgically minded friends have any clue? Whatever comes of it, there is no doubt a very interesting story lurking behind this utterly unique publication.