CAUSES OF PROTESTANTISM.
What, then, were the causes of the appearance of Protestantism in
Europe, of its development, and of its success? This is a question
well worthy of being examined to the bottom, because it will lead us
to inquire into the origin of this great evil, and will put us in a
condition to form the best idea of this phenomenon, so often but so
imperfectly described.
It would be unreasonable to look for the causes of an event of this
nature and importance, in circumstances either trivial in themselves,
or circumscribed by places and events of a limited kind. It is a
mistake to suppose that vast results can be produced by trifling
causes; and if it be true that great events sometimes have their
commencement in little ones, it is no less certain that the commencing
point is not the cause; and that to be the commencement of a thing, and
to be its real cause, are expressions of a widely different meaning.
A spark produces a dreadful conflagration, but it is because it falls
upon a heap of inflammable materials. That which is general must have
general causes; and that which is lasting and deeply rooted must have
lasting and profound causes.
This law is true alike in the moral as in the physical order; but its
applications cannot be perceived without great difficulty, especially
in the moral order, where things of great importance are sometimes
clothed in a mean exterior; where each effect is found allied with so
many causes at once, connected with them by ties so delicate, that,
possibly, the most attentive and piercing eye may miss altogether, or
regard as a trifle, that which perhaps has produced very great results:
trifling things, on the other hand, are frequently so covered with
glitter, tinsel, and parade, that it is very easy to be deceived by
them. We are always too much inclined to judge by appearances.
It will appear from these principles, that I am not disposed to
give great importance to the rivalry excited by the preaching of
indulgences, or to the excesses which may have been committed by some
inferiors in this matter; these things may have been an occasion, a
pretext, a signal to commence the contest, but they were of too little
importance in themselves to put the world in flames. There would be,
perhaps, more apparent plausibility in seeking for the causes of
Protestantism in the characters and positions of the first reformers;
but this also would be unsatisfactory.
People lay great stress on the violence and fury of the writings and
speeches of Luther, and show how apt this savage eloquence was to
inflame men's minds, and drag them into the new errors by the deadly
hatred against Rome with which it inspired them. Too much stress also
is laid on the sophistical art, the order and elegance of the style
of Calvin; qualities which served to give an appearance of regularity
to the shapeless mass of new errors, and make them more acceptable
to men of good taste. The talents and other qualities of the various
innovators are described in the same way with more or less truth.
I will not deny to Luther, Calvin, and the other founders of
Protestantism, the titles on which their sad celebrity is founded;
but I venture to assert that we cannot attribute to their personal
qualities the principal influence upon the development of this evil,
without palpably mistaking and underrating the importance of the evil
itself, and forgetting the instructions of universal history.
If we examine these men with impartiality, we shall find that their
qualities were not greater than those of other sectarian leaders, if
so great. Their talents, their learning, and their knowledge, have
passed through the crucible of criticism, and there is, even among
Protestants, no well-instructed and impartial person who does not now
consider the extravagant eulogiums which have been lavished upon them,
as the exaggerations of party. They are classed among the number of
those turbulent men who are well fitted to excite revolutions; but
the history of all times and countries, and the experience of every
day, teach that men of this kind are not uncommon, and that they
arise everywhere when a sad combination of events affords them a fit
opportunity.
When causes more in proportion to Protestantism, by their extent
and importance, are sought for, two are commonly pointed out: the
necessity of reform, and the spirit of liberty. "There were numerous
abuses," says one party; "legitimate reform was neglected: this
negligence produced revolution." "The human intellect was in fetters,"
says another; "the mind longed to break its chains; Protestantism
was only a grand effort for the freedom of human thought, a great
movement towards liberating the human mind." It is true, that these
two opinions point out causes of great importance and of wide extent:
both are well adapted to make partisans. The one, by establishing the
necessity of reform, opens a wide field for the censure of neglected
laws and relaxed morals; this theme always finds sympathy in the heart
of man,--indulgent towards its own defects, but stern and inexorable
towards the faults of others. With respect to the other opinion, which
raises the cry of the movement of religious liberty and the freedom of
the human mind, it is sure to be widely adopted: there are always a
thousand echoes to a cry which flatters our pride.
I do not deny that a reform was necessary; to be convinced of this, I
need only glance at history, and listen to the complaints of several
great men, justly regarded by the Church as among the most cherished
of her sons. I read in the first decree of the Council of Trent, that
one of the objects of the Council was the reform of the Christian
clergy and people; I learn from the mouth of Pius IV., when confirming
the said Council, that one of the objects for which it was assembled,
was the correction of morals, and the re-establishment of discipline.
Notwithstanding all this, I am not inclined to give to abuses so
much influence as has been attributed to them. I must also say, that
it appears to me that we give a very bad solution of the question,
when, to show the real cause of the evil, we insist on the fatal
results produced by these abuses. These words also, "a new movement
of liberty," appear to me altogether insufficient. I shall say, then,
with freedom, in spite of my respect for those who entertain the first
opinion, and my esteem for the talents of those who refer all to the
spirit of liberty, that I cannot find in either that analysis, at once
philosophical and historical, which, without wandering from the ground
of history, examines facts, clears them up, shows their inward nature,
their relations and connections.
If men have wandered so much in the definition and explanation of
Protestantism, it is because they have not sufficiently observed that
it is not only a fact common to all ages of the history of the Church,
but that its importance and its particular characteristics are owing
to the epoch when it arose. This simple consideration, founded on
the constant testimony of history, clears up every thing; we have no
longer to seek in the doctrines of Protestantism for any thing singular
or extraordinary; all its characteristics prove that it was born in
Europe, and in the sixteenth century. I shall develop these ideas, not
by fanciful reasonings or gratuitous suppositions, but by adducing
facts which nobody can deny.
It is indisputable that the principle of submission to authority in
matters of faith has always encountered a vigorous resistance in the
human mind. I shall not point out here the causes of this resistance;
I propose to do so in the course of this work; I shall content myself
at present with stating this fact, and reminding those who may be
inclined to call it in question, that the history of the Church has
always been accompanied by the history of heresies. This fact has
presented different phases according to the changes of time and place.
Sometimes making a rude mixture of Judaism and Christianity, sometimes
combining the doctrines of Jesus Christ with the dreams of the East, or
corrupting the purity of faith by the subtilties and chicaneries of
Grecian sophistry; this fact presents us with as many different aspects
as there are conditions of the mind of man. But we always find in it
two general characteristics, which clearly show that it has always had
the same origin, notwithstanding the variation in its object and in the
nature of its results: these two characteristics are, hatred of the
authority of the Church, and the spirit of sect.
In all ages sects have arisen, opposing the authority of the Church,
and establishing as dogmas the errors of their founders: it was
natural for the same thing to happen in the sixteenth century. Now,
if that age had been an exception to the general rule, it seems to
me, looking at the nature of the human mind, that we should have
had to answer this very difficult question, How is it possible that
no sect appeared in that age? I say, then, error having once arisen
in the sixteenth century, no matter what may have been its origin,
occasion, and pretext--a certain number of followers having assembled
around its banner--Protestantism forthwith presents itself before me
in all its extent, with its transcendent importance, its divisions,
and subdivisions; I see it, with boldness and energy, making a general
attack on all the doctrines and discipline taught and observed
by the Church. In place of Luther, Zuinglius, and Calvin, let us
suppose Arius, Nestorius, and Pelagius; in place of the errors of the
former, let them teach the errors of the latter; it will all lead
to the same result. The errors will excite sympathy; they will find
defenders; they will animate enthusiasts; they will spread, they will
be propagated with the rapidity of fire, they will be diffused, they
will throw sparks in all directions; they will all be defended with
a show of knowledge and erudition; creeds will change unceasingly; a
thousand professions of faith will be drawn up; the liturgy will be
altered,--will be destroyed; the bonds of discipline will be broken; we
shall have to sum up all in one word, Protestantism.
How did it happen that the evil in the sixteenth century was
necessarily so extensive, so great, and so important? It was because
the society of that time was different from any other that had preceded
it; that which at other times would only have produced a partial fire,
necessarily caused in the sixteenth century a frightful conflagration.
Europe was then composed of a number of immense states, cast, so to
speak, in the same mould, resembling each other in ideas, manners, laws
and institutions, drawn together incessantly by an active communication
which was kept up alternately by rival and common interests; knowledge
found in the Latin language an easy means of diffusion; in fine, most
important of all, there had become general over all Europe a rapid
means of disseminating ideas and feelings, a creation which had flashed
from the human mind like a miraculous illumination, a presage of
colossal destinies, viz. the press.
Such is the activity of the mind of man, and the ardour with which it
embraces all sorts of innovation, that when once the standard of error
was planted, a multitude of partisans were sure to rally round it. The
yoke of authority once thrown off, in countries where investigation
was so active, where so many discussions were carried on, where ideas
were in such a state of effervescence, and where all the sciences
began to germinate, it was impossible for the restless mind of man
to remain fixed on any point, and a swarm of sects was necessarily
produced. There is no middle path; either civilized nations must remain
Catholic, or run through all the forms of error. If they do not attach
themselves firmly to the anchor of truth, we shall see them make a
general attack upon it, we shall see them assail it in itself, in all
that it teaches, in all that it prescribes. A man of free and active
mind will remain tranquil in the peaceful regions of truth, or he will
seek for it with restlessness and disquietude. If he find only false
principles to rest on,--if he feel the ground move under his feet,
he will change his position every moment, he will leap from error to
error, and precipitate himself from one abyss to another. To live amid
errors, and be contented with them, to transmit error from generation
to generation, without modification or change, is peculiar to those
who vegetate in debasement and ignorance; there the mind of man is not
active, because it is asleep.
From the point of view where we have now placed ourselves, we can see
Protestantism such as it is. From this commanding position we see
every thing in its place, and it is possible for us to appreciate
its dimensions, to perceive its relations, calculate its influence,
and explain its anomalies. Men there assume their true position; as
they are seen in close proximity with the great mass of events, they
appear in the picture as very small figures, for which others may
be substituted without inconvenience; which may be placed nearer or
farther off, and the features and complexion of which are not of any
consequence. Of what importance, then, are the energy of character, the
passion, and boldness of Luther, the literary polish of Melancthon, and
the sophistical talents of Calvin? We are convinced, that to lay stress
upon all this, is to lose our time, and explain nothing.
What were these men, and the other coryphæi of Protestantism? Was
there any thing really extraordinary about them? We shall find men
like them everywhere. There are some among them who did not surpass
mediocrity; and it may be said of almost all, that if they had not
obtained an unhappy celebrity, they would hardly have been celebrated
at all. Why, then, did they effect such great things? They found a mass
of combustibles, and they set them on fire. Certainly this was not
difficult, and yet it was all they did. When I see Luther, mad with
pride, commit those extravagances which were the subject of so many
lamentations on the part of his friends--when I see him grossly insult
all who oppose him, put himself in a passion, and vomit forth a torrent
of impure words against all those who do not humble themselves in his
presence, I am scarcely moved by any other feeling than pity. This man,
who had the extraordinary mania of calling himself the _Notharius Dei_,
became delirious; but he breathed, and his breath was followed by a
terrible conflagration: it was because a powder-magazine was at hand on
which he threw a spark. Nevertheless, like a man blinded by insanity,
he cried out, "Behold my power! I breathe, and my breath puts the world
in flames!"
But, you will ask me, what was the real influence of abuses? If we take
care not to leave the point of view where we now are, we shall see
that they were an occasion, and that they sometimes afforded food, but
that they did not exercise all the influence which has been attributed
to them. Do I wish, then, to deny, or to excuse them? Not at all.
I can appreciate the complaints of some men, who are worthy of the
most profound respect; but while lamenting the evil, these men never
pretended to detail the consequences. The just man when he raises his
voice against vice, the minister of the sanctuary when he is burning
with zeal for the house of the Lord, express themselves in accents so
loud and vehement, that they must not always be taken literally. Their
whole hearts are opened, and, inflamed as they are with a zealous love
of justice, they make use of burning words. Men without faith interpret
their expressions maliciously, exaggerating and misrepresenting them.
It appears to me to be clear, from what I have just shown, that the
principal cause of Protestantism is not to be found in the abuses
of the middle ages. All that can be said is, that they afforded
opportunities and pretexts for it. To assert the contrary would be to
maintain that there were always numerous abuses in the Church from
the beginning, even in the time of her primitive fervor, and of that
proverbial purity of which our opponents have said so much; for even
then there were swarms of sects who protested against her doctrines,
denied her divine authority, and called themselves the true Church. The
case is the same, and the inference cannot be denied. If you allege the
extent and rapid propagation of Protestantism, I will remind you that
such was also the case with other sects; I will repeat to you the words
of St. Jerome, with regard to the ravages of Arianism: "All the world
groans, and is full of astonishment at finding itself Arian." I will
repeat, again, that if you observe any thing remarkable and peculiar
belonging to Protestantism, it ought not to be attributed to abuses,
but to the epoch when it appeared.
I believe I have said enough to give an idea of the influence which
abuses could exert; yet, as it is a subject which has occupied much
attention, and on which many mistakes have been made, it will be well
to revert to it once more, to make our ideas on the subject still
clearer. That lamentable abuses had crept in during the course of the
middle ages, that the corruption of manners had been great, and that,
consequently, reform was required, is a fact which cannot be denied.
This fact is proved to us, with respect to the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, by irreproachable witnesses, such as St. Peter Damien, St.
Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. Some centuries later, even after many
abuses had been corrected, they were still but too considerable, as
is witnessed by the complaints of men who were inflamed with a desire
of reform. We cannot forget the alarming words addressed by Cardinal
Julian to Pope Eugenius IV., on the subject of the disorders of the
clergy, especially those of Germany.
Having fully avowed the truth on this point, and my opinion that the
cause of Catholicity does not require dissimulation or falsehood to
defend it, I shall devote a few words to examining some important
questions. Are we to blame the court of Rome or the bishops for these
great abuses? I venture to think that they were to be attributed to
the evils of the time alone. Let us call to mind the events which had
taken place in the midst of Europe; the dissolution of the decrepit
and corrupt empire of Rome; the irruption and inundation of northern
barbarians; their fluctuations, their wars, sometimes with each
other, and sometimes with the conquered nations, and that for so many
ages; the establishment and absolute reign of feudalism, with all its
inconveniences, its evils, its troubles, and disasters; the invasion of
the Saracens, and their dominion over a large portion of Europe; now,
let any reflecting man ask himself whether such revolutions must not of
necessity produce ignorance, corruption of morals, and the relaxation
of all discipline. How could the ecclesiastical society escape being
deeply affected by this dissolution, this destruction of the civil
society? Could she help participating in the evils of the horrible
state of chaos into which Europe was then plunged?
But were the spirit and ardent desire of reforming abuses ever wanting
in the Church? It can be shown that they were not. I will not mention
the saints whom she did not cease to produce during these unhappy
periods; history proves their number and their virtues, which, so
vividly contrasting with the corruption of the age, show that the
divine flames which descended on the Apostles had not been extinguished
in the bosom of the Catholic Church. This fact proves much; but there
is another still more remarkable, a fact less subject to dispute, and
which we cannot be accused of exaggerating; a fact which is not limited
to individuals, but which is, on the contrary, the most complete
expression of the spirit by which the whole body of the Church was
animated; I mean, the constant meeting of councils, in which abuses
were reproved and condemned, and in which sanctity of morals and the
observance of discipline were continually inculcated. Happily this
consoling fact is indisputable; it is open to every eye; and to be
aware of it, one only needs to consult a volume of ecclesiastical
history, or the proceedings of councils. There is no fact more worth
our attention; and I will add, that perhaps all its importance has not
been observed.
Let us remark what passes in other societies: we see that in proportion
to the change of ideas and manners, laws everywhere undergo a rapid
modification; and if manners and ideas come to be directly opposed
to laws, the latter, reduced to silence, are soon either abolished or
trodden under foot. Nothing of this sort has happened in the Church.
Corruption has extended itself everywhere to a lamentable degree; the
ministers of religion have allowed themselves to be carried away by
the stream, and have forgotten the sanctity of their vocation; but the
sacred fire did not cease to burn in the sanctuary; the law was there
constantly proclaimed and inculcated; and, wonderful spectacle! the men
who themselves violated it frequently assembled to condemn themselves,
to censure their own conduct, and thus to render more public and more
palpable the contrast which existed between their instructions and
their actions. Simony and incontinence were the prevailing vices;
if you open the canons of councils, you will find them everywhere
anathematized. Nowhere do you find a struggle so prolonged, so
constant, so persevering, of right against wrong; you always see,
throughout so many ages, the law, opposed face to face to the irregular
passions, maintain itself firm and immovable, without yielding a
single step, without allowing them a moment of repose or peace until
they were subjugated. And this constancy and tenacity of the Church
were not useless. At the commencement of the sixteenth century, at the
time when Protestantism appeared, we find abuses comparatively less
numerous, morals perceptibly improved, discipline become more strict,
and observed with sufficient regularity. The time when Luther declaimed
was not like that when St. Peter Damien and St. Bernard deplored the
evils of the Church. The chaos was reduced to form; order, light, and
regularity had made rapid progress; and an incontestable proof that
the Church was not then plunged in such ignorance and corruption as
is alleged, is, that she produced the great assemblage of saints who
shed so much lustre on the age, and the men who displayed their eminent
wisdom at the Council of Trent. Let us remember that great reforms
require much time; that they met with much resistance both from the
clergy and laity; that for having undertaken them with firmness, and
urged them with vigour, Gregory VII. has been charged with rashness.
Let us not judge of men without regard to times and places; and let
us not pretend to measure every thing according to our own limited
ideas; ages move in an immense orbit, and the variety of circumstances
produces situations so strange and complicated that we can hardly form
an idea of them.
Bossuet, in his History of the Variations, after having differently
classed the spirit which guided certain men, before the thirteenth
century, in their attempts at reform, and having cited the threatening
words of Cardinal Julian on the subject of abuses, adds: "It is thus
that, in the fifteenth century, this cardinal, the greatest man of
his times, deplored these evils, and foresaw their fatal effects; by
which he seems to have predicted those that Luther was about to bring
on all Christianity, and in the first place on Germany; and he was
not deceived when he thought that the neglect of reformation, and the
increased hatred against the clergy, was about to produce a sect more
dangerous to the Church than the Bohemians." (_Hist. des Variat._
liv. i.) It is inferred from these words that the illustrious Bishop
of Meaux found one of the principal causes of Protestantism in the
omission of a legitimate reform made in time. Nevertheless, we must
not suppose from this that Bossuet meant, in any degree, to excuse
the promoters of it, or that he had any idea of sanctioning their
intentions; on the contrary, he ranked them as turbulent innovators,
who, far from promoting the real reform which was desired by wise and
prudent men, only served to render it more difficult, by introducing,
by the means of their erroneous doctrines, the spirit of disobedience,
schism, and heresy.
In spite of the authority of Bossuet, I cannot persuade myself to look
upon abuses as one of the principal causes of Protestantism; but it is
not necessary to repeat what I have said in support of this opinion. It
may not, however, be useless to repeat, that the authority of Bossuet
is misapplied when used to justify the intentions of the reformers,
since the illustrious prelate is the first to declare them highly
culpable, and to observe, that if abuses were in existence, their
intention was not to correct them, but rather to make them a pretext
for abandoning the faith of the Church, throwing off the yoke of lawful
authority, breaking the bands of discipline, and introducing thereby
disorder and licentiousness.
How, indeed, can we attribute to the reformers the real spirit of
reform, when almost all of them proved the contrary by the ignominy
of their own conduct? If they had condemned, by the austerity of
their morals, or by devoting themselves to a severe asceticism, the
relaxations of which they complained, there might be a question whether
their extravagances were not the effects of exaggerated zeal, and if
some excess in the love of virtue had not drawn them into error. But
they did nothing of the kind. Let us hear on this point an eye-witness,
a man who certainly cannot be accused of fanaticism, since the
connection which he had with the leaders of Protestantism has rendered
him culpable in the eyes of many. Behold what Erasmus said, with his
usual wit and bitterness: "The reform, as far as it has gone, has been
limited to the secularization of a few nuns and the marriage of a few
priests; and this great tragedy finishes with an event altogether
comic, since every thing is wound up, as in comedies, by a marriage."
This shows to conviction the true spirit of the innovators of the
sixteenth century. It is clear that, far from wishing the reformation
of abuses, they wished rather to increase them. This bare consideration
of facts has led M. Guizot, on this point, into the path of truth,
when he rejects the opinion of those who pretend, that the Reformation
was "an attempt conceived and executed simply with the intention of
reconstructing a pure and primitive Church. The Reformation," he said,
"was not a mere attempt at religious amelioration, or the fruit of a
Utopian humanity and virtue." (_Histoire Générale de la Civilisation en
Europe_, douzième leçon.)
We shall have now no difficulty in appreciating at its just value
the explanation which the same writer gives of this phenomenon. "The
Reformation," says M. Guizot, "was a great attempt at the liberation of
human thought--an uprising of the mind of man." This attempt, according
to M. Guizot, arose out of the energetic movement given to the human
mind, and the state of inaction into which the Roman Church had
fallen; it arose from this, that the human mind advanced rapidly and
impetuously, while the Church remained stationary. Explanations of this
kind, and this one in particular, are very apt to draw admirers and
proselytes; these ideas are high, and placed on a level so lofty and
extended, that they cannot be looked at closely by the generality of
readers; and, moreover, they appear in brilliant imagery, which blinds
the sight and prejudices the judgment.
That which restrains freedom of thought, as understood by M. Guizot
and other Protestants is, authority in matters of faith: it was, then,
against this authority that the uprising of the mind declared itself;
or, in other words, the mind rebelled, because it advanced, while the
Church, immovable in her doctrines, was, according to the expression of
M. Guizot, "in a stationary state."
Whatever may be the disposition of mind of M. Guizot towards the dogmas
of the Catholic Church, he ought, as a philosopher, to have seen that
it was a great mistake to point out as the distinctive characteristic
of one period, that which had been at every time a glorious title
for the Church. For more than eighteen hundred years the Church has
been stationary in her dogmas, and it is no equivocal proof that she
possesses the truth: the truth is unchangeable, because it is one.
What the Church was in the sixteenth century, she had been before, and
she has been since. She had nothing particular, she adopted no new
characteristic. The reason, then, by which it is attempted to explain
this phenomenon, viz. the uprising of the mind, cannot advance the
explanation a single step; and if this be the reason why M. Guizot
compares the Church to governments grown old, we will tell him that
she has had this old age from her cradle. M. Guizot, as if he had
himself felt the weakness of his reasoning, presents his thoughts in
groups, and as it were _pêle-mêle_; he parades before his readers ideas
of different kinds, without taking pains to classify or distinguish
them; one would be inclined to think that he meant to distract them
by variety, and confound them by mixture. Judging, indeed, from the
context of his discourse, the epithets _inert and stationary_, which
he applies to the Church, do not appear, according to his intention,
to relate to matters of faith; and he gives us to understand that
he speaks rather of the pretensions of the Church with regard to
politics and state economy. He has taken pains, elsewhere, to repel as
calumnies, the charges of tyranny and intolerance which have been so
often made against the court of Rome.
We find here an incoherence of ideas which was not to be expected in so
clear a mind; and as many persons may scarcely be inclined to believe
how far this incoherence extends, it is necessary to give his words
literally: they will show us into what inconsistencies great minds can
fall when they are placed in a false position.
"The government of the human mind, the spiritual power," says M.
Guizot, "had fallen into an inert and stationary condition. The
political influence of the Church, of the court of Rome, was much
diminished; European society no longer was ruled by it; it had passed
under the control of lay governments. Nevertheless, the spiritual
power preserved all its pretensions, all its _éclat_, all its external
importance. There happened in this respect, what has more than once
happened to old governments. The greater part of the complaints made
against it were hardly better founded."
It is evident that M. Guizot, in this passage, does not point out
any thing which is at all connected with liberty, any thing which is
not quite of another kind: why does he not do so? The court of Rome,
he tells us, had seen its political influence diminished, and yet it
preserved its pretensions; the direction of European society no longer
belonged to it, but Rome kept its pomp and its external importance. Is
any thing here meant besides the rivalries of which political affairs
had been the subject? Did M. Guizot forget what he himself said some
pages before, viz. that it did not appear to him to be reasonable to
assign the rivalry of kings with the ecclesiastical power as the cause
of Protestantism, and that such a cause was not adequate to the extent
and importance of the event?
Although all this has no direct connection with freedom of thought,
still, if any one be inclined to attribute the uprising of the mind
to the intolerance of the court of Rome, let him listen to M. Guizot:
"It is not true," says he, "that in the sixteenth century the court of
Rome was very tyrannical; that abuses, properly so called, were then
more numerous, more crying, than they had been at other times; never,
perhaps, on the contrary, had the ecclesiastical power been more easy,
more tolerant, more disposed to let things go their own way. Provided
that it was not itself called in question, provided that the rights
which it had formerly enjoyed were allowed in theory, that the same
existence was secured, and the same tributes were paid to it, it would
willingly have allowed the human mind to remain at peace, if the human
mind had done the same in respect to it."
Thus M. Guizot seems to have forgotten what he had urged with the view
of showing that the Protestant Reformation was a great attempt at the
liberation of human thought--a rebellion of the mind of man. He does
not allege any thing which was an obstacle to the freedom of man's
thoughts; and he himself acknowledges that there was nothing to provoke
this rebellion, as, for example, intolerance or cruelty; he has himself
just told us that the ecclesiastical government of the sixteenth
century, far from being tyrannical, was easy and tolerant, and that,
if left to itself, it would willingly have allowed the human mind to
remain tranquil.
It is, then, evident, that the great attempt at the liberation of
the human mind is, in M. Guizot's mouth, only a vague, undefined
expression,--a brilliant veil with which he seems to have wished
to cover the cradle of Protestantism, even at the risk of being
inconsistent with his own opinions. He reverts to the political
rivalries which he before rejected. Abuses have no importance in his
eyes; he cannot find in them the real cause; and he forgets what he had
just asserted in the preceding lecture, viz. that if necessary reform
had been made in time, the religious revolution might have been avoided.
He tries to give a picture of the obstacles to the liberty of thought,
and endeavours to rise to the general considerations which embrace
all the importance and influences of the human mind; but he stops at
_éclat_, at _external importance_, and _political rivalries_; he lowers
his flight to the level of tributes and services.
This incoherence of ideas, this weakness of reasoning, and
forgetfulness of assertions previously made, will appear strange
only to those who are accustomed rather to admire the high flights
of talented men than to study their aberrations. It is true that M.
Guizot was in a position in which it was very difficult to avoid being
dazzled and deceived. If it be true that we cannot observe attentively
what passes on the ground around us without narrowing our view of
the horizon,--if this method leads the observer to form a collection
of isolated facts rather than compare general maxims, it is not less
certain that, by extending our observations over a larger space, we
run the risk of many illusions. Too great generalization borders on
hypothesis and fancy. The mind, when taking an immoderate flight in
order to get a general view of things, no longer sees them as they
really are; perhaps sometimes even loses sight of them altogether.
Therefore it is that the loftiest minds should frequently remember the
words of Bacon: "We do not want wings, but lead." Too impartial not to
confess that abuses had been exaggerated,--too good a philosopher not
to see that they could not have had so great an effect,--M. Guizot,
who was prevented by his sense of dignity and decency from joining the
crowd who incessantly raise the cry of cruelty and intolerance, has
made an effort to do justice to the Church of Rome; but, unfortunately,
his prejudices against the Church would not allow him to see things in
their true light. He was aware that the origin of Protestantism must be
sought in the human mind itself; but, knowing the age and epoch when he
was speaking, he thought it was necessary to propitiate his audience by
frequent appeals to liberty, in order that his discourse might be well
received. This is the reason why, after having tempered the bitterness
of his reproaches against the Church by a few soft words, he reserves
all that is noble, grand, and generous for the ideas which produced the
Reformation, and throws on the Church all the shadows of the picture.
While acknowledging that the principal cause of Protestantism is to
be found in the human mind, it is easy to abstain from these unjust
comparisons; and M. Guizot might have avoided the inconsistency to
which we have alluded. He might have discovered the origin of the fact
in the character of the human mind; he might, at the same time, have
shown the greatness and importance of it, while simply explaining the
nature and position of the societies in which it appeared. In fine, he
might have observed that it was no _extraordinary effort_, but a mere
repetition of what has happened in every age; and a phenomenon, the
character of which depended on the particular state of the atmosphere
in which it was produced.
This way of considering Protestantism as an ordinary event, increased
and developed by the circumstances in which it arose, appears to me to
be as philosophical as it is little attended to. I shall support it by
another observation, which will supply us with reasons and examples at
the same time.
The state of modern society for three hundred years has been such,
that all the events that have occurred have acquired a character of
generalization, and consequently an importance, which distinguishes
them from all the events of a similar kind which occurred at other
times and in a different social state. If we examine the history of
antiquity, we shall see that all the events therein occurring were
isolated in some sort from each other; this was what rendered them
less beneficial when they were good, and less injurious when they were
bad. Carthage, Rome, Sparta, Athens, all these nations more or less
advanced in the career of civilization, each followed its own path, and
progressed in a different way. Ideas, manners, political constitutions,
succeeded each other, without our being able to perceive any influence
of the ideas of one nation on those of another, or of the manners
of one nation on those of another; we do not find any evidence of a
tendency to bring nations to one common centre.
We also remark that, except when forced to intermix, ancient nations
could be a long time in close proximity without losing their
peculiarities, or suffering any important change by the contact.
Observe how different is the state of things in Europe in modern times.
A revolution in one country affects all others; an idea sent forth
from the schools agitates nations and alarms governments. Nothing is
isolated, every thing is general, and acquires by expansion a terrible
force. It is impossible to study the history of one nation without
seeing all the others make their appearance on the stage; and we cannot
study the history of a science or an art without discovering a thousand
connections with objects which do not belong to science or to art.
All nations are connected, objects are assimilated, relations increase.
The affairs of one nation are interesting to all the others, and
they wish to take part in them. This is the reason why the idea of
_non-intervention_ in politics is, and always will be, impracticable;
it is, indeed, natural for us to interfere in that in which we are
interested.
These examples, although taken from things of a different kind, appear
to me very well calculated to illustrate my idea of the religious
events of that period. Protestantism, it is true, is thereby stripped
of the philosophic mantle by which it has been covered from its
infancy; it loses all right to be considered as full of foresight,
magnificent projects, and high destinies, from its cradle, but I do not
see that its importance and extent are thereby diminished; the fact
itself, in a word, is unimpaired, but the real cause of the imposing
aspect in which it has presented itself to the world is explained.
Every thing, in this point of view, is seen in its just dimensions;
individuals are scarcely perceived, and abuses appear only what they
really are--opportunities and pretexts; vast plans, lofty and generous
ideas, and efforts at independence of mind, are only gratuitous
suppositions. Thence ambition, war, the rivalry of kings, take their
position as causes more or less influential, but always in the second
rank. All the causes are estimated at their real value; in fine, the
principal causes being once pointed out, it is acknowledged that the
fact was sure to be accompanied in its development by a multitude of
subordinate agents. There remains still an important question in this
matter, viz. what was the cause of the hatred, or rather the feeling of
exasperation, on the part of sectarians against Rome? Was it owing to
some great abuse, some great wrong on the part of Rome? There is but
one answer to make, viz. that in a storm, the waves always dash with
fury against the immovable rock which resists them.
So far from attributing to abuses all the influence which has been
assigned to them on the birth and development of Protestantism, I am
convinced, on the contrary, that all imaginable legitimate reforms,
and the greatest degree of willingness on the part of the Church
authorities to comply with every exigence, would not have been able to
prevent that unhappy event.
He has paid little attention to the extreme inconstancy and fickleness
of the human mind, and studied its history to little purpose, who does
not recognise in the event of the sixteenth century one of those great
calamities which God alone can avert by a special intervention of his
providence.[5]