ON THE DIFFERENT INFLUENCE OF PROTESTANTISM AND CATHOLICITY ON THE
PUBLIC CONSCIENCE.
We have defined the nature of public conscience; we have pointed out
its origin and effects. It now remains to examine whether Protestantism
has had any share in forming it, and whether it is fairly entitled
to the glory of having been of any service to European civilization
on this point. We have already shown that the origin of this public
conscience is to be found in Christianity. Now Christianity may be
considered under two aspects--as a doctrine, and as an institution
intended to realize that doctrine; that is to say, Christian morality
may be considered in itself, or as taught and inculcated by the Church.
To form the public conscience, and make Christian morality regulate
it, it was not enough to announce this doctrine; there was still
required a society, not only to preserve it in all its purity, that it
might be transmitted from generation to generation, but to preach it
incessantly to man, and apply it continually to all the acts of life.
We must observe that ideas, however powerful they may be, have only
a precarious existence until they are realized, and become embodied,
as it were, in an institution which, while it is animated, moved, and
guided by them, serves them as a rampart against the attacks of other
ideas and other interests. Man is formed of body and soul; the whole
world is a collection of spiritual and corporeal beings--a system of
moral and physical relations; thus it is that all ideas, even the
greatest and the loftiest, begin to fall into oblivion when they have
no outward expression--no organ by which they make themselves heard and
respected. They are then confounded and overwhelmed amid the confusion
of the world, and in the end disappear altogether. Therefore, all
ideas that are to have a lasting influence on society, necessarily
tend to create an institution to represent them, in which they may be
personified; not satisfied with addressing themselves to the mind,
and with descending to practice by indirect means, they seek to give
form to matter, they present themselves to the eyes of humanity in a
palpable manner. These observations, which I submit with confidence to
the judgment of sensible men, contain a condemnation of the Protestant
system. So far from the pretended Reformation being able to claim
any part in the salutary events which we are explaining, we should
rather say that, by its principles and conduct, it would have been an
obstacle in their way, if, as was happily the case, Europe had not
been of adult age in the sixteenth century, and consequently almost
incapable of losing the doctrines, feelings, habits, and tendencies
which the Catholic Church had communicated to it during an education
of so many centuries. Indeed, the first thing that Protestantism did
was to attack authority, not by a mere act of resistance, but by
proclaiming resistance to be a real right, by establishing private
judgment as a dogma. From that moment Christian morality remained
without support, for there was no longer a society which could claim
the right of explaining and teaching it; that is to say, it was reduced
to the level of those ideas which, not being represented or supported
by an institution, and not having any authorized organ to explain them,
possessed no direct means of acting on society, and had no means of
protection when attacked.
But I shall be told that Protestantism _has_ preserved the institution
which realizes this idea; for it has preserved its ministers, worship,
and preaching--in a word, all that truth requires in dealing with man.
I will not deny that there is some truth in this, and I will repeat
what I have not hesitated to affirm in the fourteenth chapter of this
work, "That we ought to regard it as a great good, that the first
Protestants, in spite of their desire to upset all the practices of
the Church, have yet preserved that of preaching." I added in the
same place: "It is not necessary to deny on this account the evils
produced at certain times by the declamation of some ministers, either
furious or fanatical; but as unity was broken, and as the people had
been hurried into the perilous path of schism, we say that it must
have been very conducive to the preservation of the most important
ideas concerning God and man, and the fundamental maxims of morality,
for such truths to be frequently explained to the people by men who
had long studied them in the Holy Scriptures." I repeat here what I
there said: preaching practised among Protestants must have had very
good effects; but this only amounts to saying, that it did not do so
much mischief as was to be feared from its own principles. On this
point, they were like men of immoral opinions, who are not so bad as
they would be, were their hearts in accordance with their minds: they
had the good fortune to be inconsistent. Protestantism had proclaimed
the abolition of authority, and the right of private judgment without
limit; but in practice it did not quite act up to these doctrines.
Thus, it devoted itself with ardor to what it called gospel preaching,
and its ministers were called gospellers. So that, at the very time
when they just established the principle that every individual had the
free right of private judgment, and ought to be guided by reason or
private inspiration alone, without listening to any external authority,
Protestant ministers were seen spreading themselves everywhere, and
claiming to be the legitimate organs of the divine word.
The better to understand the strange nature of such a doctrine, we must
remember the maxims of Luther with respect to the priesthood. We know
that this heresiarch, embarrassed by the hierarchy which constitutes
the ministry of the Church, pretended to overturn it at one blow, by
maintaining that all Christians are priests, and that, to exercise the
sacred ministry, a simple appointment is necessary, which adds nothing
essential or characteristic to the quality of priests, which is the
universal patrimony of all Christians. It follows from this doctrine,
that the Protestant preacher wanting a mission is not distinguished
from other Christians by any characteristic; he cannot, consequently,
speak to them with any authority; he is not allowed, like Jesus Christ,
to speak _quasi potestatem habens_ (as having authority); he is nothing
more than an orator who addresses the people with no other right than
what he derives from his education, knowledge, or eloquence.
This preaching without authority, which, in reality and according to
the preacher's own principles, was only human, although it committed
the glaring inconsistency of pretending to be divine, may, no doubt,
have contributed something to the preservation of good moral principles
when they were already everywhere established; but it would certainly
have been unable to establish them in a society where they were
unknown, especially if it had had to struggle with other principles
directly opposed to it, and supported by ancient prejudices, by deeply
rooted passions, and by strong interests.
Yes, we repeat it, this preaching would have been unable to introduce
its principles into such a society; unable to preserve them in
safety amid the most alarming revolutions and the most unexampled
catastrophes; unable to impart them to barbarous nations, who, proud of
their triumph, listened to no other voice than that of their ferocious
instinct; unable to make the conquerors and the conquered bow before
these principles, to mould the most different nations into one people,
by stamping on their laws, institutions, and manners the same seal,
in order to form from them that admirable society, that assemblage of
nations, or rather that one great nation, which is called Europe. In
a word, Protestantism, from its very constitution, would have been
incapable of realizing what the Catholic Church has done.
Moreover, this attempted preaching preserved by Protestantism is, at
bottom, an effort to imitate the Church that it may not remain unarmed
in the presence of so redoubtable an adversary. It required a means of
influencing the people,--a channel open to communicate, at the will
of each usurper of religious authority, different interpretations of
the Bible; this is the reason why, in spite of violent declamation
against all that emanated from the chair of St. Peter, it preserved the
valuable practice of preaching.
But the best way to feel the inferiority of Protestantism in regard
to the knowledge and comprehension of the means proper to extend and
strengthen morality, and make it prevail in all the acts of life, is
to observe, that it has interrupted all communication between the
conscience of the faithful and the direction of the priest; it only
leaves to the latter a general direction, which, owing to its being
extended over all at the same time, is exerted with effect over none.
If we confine ourselves to the consideration of the abolition of the
sacrament of Penance among Protestants, we may rest assured that they
have thereby given up one of the most legitimate, powerful, and gentle
means of rendering human conduct conformable to the principles of sound
morality. Its action is legitimate; for nothing can be more legitimate
than direct and intimate communication between the conscience of
man who is to be judged by God, and the conscience of the man who
represents God on earth;--an action which is powerful, because this
intimate communication, established between man and man, between soul
and soul, identifies, as it were, the thoughts and affections; because,
in the presence of God alone, to the exclusion of every other witness,
admonitions have more force, precepts more authority, and advice more
unction and sweetness to penetrate into the inmost soul;--an action
full of gentleness, for it supposes the voluntary manifestation of the
conscience which seeks guidance--a manifestation which is commanded,
it is true, by authority, but which cannot be enforced by violence, as
God alone is the judge of its sincerity;--an action, I repeat, which
is gentle, for the minister is compelled to the strictest secrecy;
all imaginable precautions have been taken by the Church to prevent a
betrayal, and man may rest with tranquillity in the assurance that the
secrets of his conscience will never be revealed.
But you will ask me, do you believe all this is necessary to establish
and preserve a good state of morality? If morality is to be any thing
more than a mere worldly probity, which is exposed to destruction at
the first shock of interest, or easily seduced by the passions; if it
is to be a morality delicate, strict, and profound, extending over all
the acts of life, guiding and ruling the heart of man, and transforming
it into that _beau idéal_ which we admire in Catholics who are really
devoted to the observances and practices of their religion; if this is
the morality which you mean, it is necessary, undoubtedly, that, placed
under the inspection of religious authority, it should be directed and
guided by a minister of the sanctuary, by a faithful communication
of the secrets of our hearts and the numberless temptations which
continually assail our weak nature. This is the doctrine of the
Catholic Church; and I will add, that it is pointed out by experience
and taught by philosophy. I do not mean to say, that Catholics alone
are capable of performing virtuous actions; this would be to contradict
the experience of every day. I only wish to prove the efficacy of a
Catholic institution which is despised by Protestants. I speak of the
great influence which this institution has in infusing into our hearts,
and preserving in them, a morality which is cordial, constant, and
applicable to all the acts of our souls.
No doubt, there is in man a monstrous mixture of good and evil; I know
that it is not given him to attain in this life to that ineffable
degree of perfection which consists in a perfect conformity with
Divine truth and holiness--a perfection which he will not be able even
to conceive until the moment when, stripped of his mortal body, he
will be plunged into the pure ocean of light and love. But we cannot
be permitted to doubt that man, in this earthly abode, in the land
of misery and darkness, can, nevertheless, attain to the universal,
delicate, and profound state of morality which I have just described;
and, however much the present corruption of the world may be a too
legitimate subject of affliction, it must be allowed that we still
find, in our own days, a considerable number of honorable exceptions
in the multitude of persons who conform to the strict rule of gospel
morality in their conduct, their wishes, and even in their thoughts and
inmost affections. To attain to this degree of morality (and observe,
I do not say of evangelical perfection, but of mere morality), it is
necessary that the religious principle should be visibly present to the
eyes of the soul, that it should act continually upon her, urging on
or restraining her in an infinite variety of circumstances which, in
the course of life, occur to mislead from the path of duty. The life of
man is, as it were, a chain composed of an infinite variety of acts,
which cannot be constantly in accordance with reason and the eternal
law, unless it remains constantly in the hands of a fixed and universal
regulator. And let it not be said that such a state of morality is a
_beau idéal_, the existence of which would bring such confusion into
the acts of the soul, and complication of the whole life, as in the
end to make it insupportable. No, this is not a mere fancy; it is a
reality which is frequently seen by our eyes, not only in the cloister
and the sanctuary, but amid the confusion and distractions of the
world. That which establishes a fixed rule cannot bring confusion
into the acts of the soul, or complicate the affairs of life. Quite
the contrary; instead of confusion, it serves to distinguish and
illuminate; instead of complicating, it puts in order and simplifies.
Establish this rule, and you will have unity; and with unity general
order.
Catholicity is always distinguished by its extreme vigilance with
respect to morality, by its care in regulating all the acts of life,
and even the most secret movements of the heart. Superficial observers
have declaimed against the prolixity of moralists--against the minute
and detailed study which they make of human actions considered under
a moral aspect; they should have observed, that if Catholicity is
the religion in the bosom of which has appeared so great a number
of moralists, by whom all human actions have been examined in the
greatest detail, it is because this religion has for its object to
moralize for the whole man, as it were, in all his relations with
God, with his neighbor, and with himself. It is clear that such
an enterprise requires a more profound and attentive examination
than would be necessary, if it had only to give to man an imperfect
morality, stopping at the surface of actions, and not penetrating
to the bottom of the heart. With respect to Catholic moralists, and
without attempting to excuse the excess into which some among them have
fallen, either by too great subtility, or by a spirit of party and
dispute (excesses which cannot be imputed to the Catholic Church, since
she has testified her displeasure when she has not expressly condemned
them), it must be observed, that this abundance, this superfluity, if
you will, of moral studies, has contributed more than people think to
direct minds to the intimate study of man, by furnishing a multitude of
facts and observations to those who have subsequently wished to devote
themselves to this important science. Now, can there be a more worthy
or more useful object for our labors? In another part of this work,
I propose to develop the relations of Catholicity with the progress
of science and literature; I shall not, therefore, enter more fully
on the matter now. Still I may be allowed briefly to observe, that
the development and education of the human mind have been principally
theological; and that on this point, as well as on many others,
philosophers are more indebted to theologians than they seem to imagine.
Let us return to the comparison of the Protestant and Catholic
influence on the formation and preservation of a sound public
conscience. We have showed that Catholicity, having constantly
maintained the principle of authority which Protestantism rejects, has
given to moral ideas a force and influence which Protestantism could
not. Protestantism, indeed, by its nature and fundamental principles,
has never given to these ideas any other support than they might have
derived from a school of philosophy. But you will perhaps ask me, do
you not acknowledge the force of these ideas; a force peculiar to them,
and inherent in their nature, and which frequently changes the face of
the world, by deciding its doctrines? Do you not know that they always,
in the end, force a passage, in spite of every obstacle, and of all
resistance? Have you forgotten the teaching of all history; and do you
pretend to deprive human thought of that vital, creative force, which
renders man superior to all that surrounds him? Such is the common
panegyric on the strength of ideas; thus we see them transformed every
moment into all-powerful beings, whose magical wand is capable of
changing every thing at their pleasure.
However this may be, I am full of respect for human thought, and allow
that there is much truth in what is called the force of an idea; yet
I must beg leave to offer a few observations to these enthusiasts,
not directly to combat their opinion, but to make some necessary
modifications. In the first place, ideas, in the point of view in
which we are now considering them, must be divided into two orders;
some flattering our passions, the others checking them. It cannot be
denied that the former have an immense expansive force. They have
a motion of their own; they act in all places; they exert a rapid,
violent power; one would say that they overflow with life and activity.
The latter have great difficulty in making their way; they advance
slowly, they cannot pursue their career without an institution to
secure their stability. And why? Because it is not the ideas themselves
which act in the former case, but the passions which accompany them,
and assume their names; thus masking what is repulsive in them at
first sight. In the latter case, on the contrary, it is the truth
that speaks. Now, in this land of misfortune, the truth is but little
attended to; for it leads to good; and the heart of man, as the
Scripture says, is inclined to evil from his youth. Those who vaunt so
much the native force of ideas, should point out to us, in ancient or
modern history, one idea which, without going out of its own circle,
that of the purely philosophical order, is entitled to the glory of
having materially contributed to the amelioration of individuals and
society.
It is commonly said that the force of ideas is immense; that once shown
among men, they will fructify sooner or later; that once deposited in
the bosom of humanity, they will remain there as a precious legacy,
and contribute wonderfully to the improvement of the world, to the
perfection towards which the human race advances. No doubt these
assertions contain some truth; as man is an intelligent being, all that
immediately affects his mind must certainly influence his destiny.
Thus no great change is worked in society without being first realized
in the order of ideas; all that is established contrary to our ideas,
or without them, must be weak and passing. But it is by no means to
be supposed that every useful idea contains in itself a conservative
force capable of dispensing with all institutions; that is to say, with
support and defence, even during times of social disorder: between
these two propositions there is a gulf which cannot be closed without
contradicting all history. Now humanity, considered by itself, and
given up to its own strength, as it appears to philosophers, is not
so safe a depositary as people wish to suppose. Unhappily we have
melancholy proofs of this truth: we see too clearly that the human
race, far from being a faithful trustee, has but too much imitated the
conduct of a foolish spendthrift. In the cradle of the human race, we
find great ideas on the unity of God, on man, on relations of man with
God and their fellowmen. These ideas were certainly true, salutary,
and fruitful: and yet, what did man do with them? Did he not lose them
by modifying, mutilating, and distorting them in the most deplorable
way? Where were they when Jesus Christ came into the world? What had
humanity done with them? One nation alone preserved them; but in what
way? Fix your attention on the chosen people, the Jews, and you will
see that there was a continual struggle between truth and error;
you will see that, by an inconceivable blindness, they incessantly
inclined to idolatry; they had a constant tendency to substitute the
abominations of the Gentiles for the sublime law of Mount Sinai. And
do you know how the truth was preserved among this people? Observe
it well; it was supported by the strongest institutions that can be
imagined; it was armed with all the means of defence with which an
inspired legislator could surround it. It will be said that they were
a hard-hearted nation, in the language of the Scriptures; unhappily,
since the fall of our first parent, this hardness of heart is become
the patrimony of humanity; _the heart of man is inclined to evil from
his youth_; ages before the existence of the Jews, God had covered the
earth with the waters of heaven, and had blotted out man from the face
of the world; _for all flesh had corrupted its way_. We must conclude
from this, that the preservation of great moral ideas requires powerful
institutions; it is evident, therefore, that they cannot be abandoned
to the fickleness of the human mind without being disfigured, or even
lost. I will say, moreover, that institutions are not only necessary
to teach, but also to apply them. Moral ideas, especially those which
openly contradict the passions, are never reduced to practice without
great efforts; now the ideas themselves do not suffice to make these
great efforts, and means of action are required capable of connecting
ideas with facts; this is one of the reasons of the impotence of
philosophical schools when they attempt to construct any thing. They
are often powerful in destroying; momentary action is enough for this,
and this action may be easily acquired in a moment of enthusiasm. But
when they wish to establish and reduce their conceptions to practice,
they are impotent; their only resource is what is called the force of
ideas. Now, as ideas constantly vary and change--an inconstancy of
which these schools themselves afford the first example--it happens
that what we hear them announce one moment as an infallible means of
human progress, is the next reduced to a mere object of curiosity.
These last observations anticipate the objection that may be urged
against us with respect to the immense force which printing has
given to ideas. But this is so far from being a preserver, that it
may be said to be the best destroyer of all opinions. If we measure
the immense orbit which the human mind has passed through since that
important discovery, we shall see that the _consummation_ of opinions
(if I may be allowed the expression) is increased in a prodigious
degree. The history of the human race, especially since the press
has become periodical, appears to be the representation of a rapid
drama, where the decorations change every moment, where the scenes
succeed each other, scarcely allowing the spectator to catch any of
the author's words. Half of this century has not yet passed away,
and already it seems as if many centuries had elapsed, so great has
been the number of schools which have been born and are dead, of
reputations which, after being raised to the highest pitch of renown,
have been soon forgotten. This rapid succession of ideas, so far from
contributing to increase their force, necessarily renders them weak and
unproductive. The natural order in the progress of ideas is this: at
first to make their appearance, then to be realized in an institution
representing them, and in fine to exert their influence on facts by
means of an institution in which they are personified. Now, it is
necessary that during these transformations, which essentially require
time, ideas should preserve their credit, if they are to produce any
favorable result. But when they succeed each other too rapidly, time
is wanting for their successive transformations; new ideas strive to
discredit the old ones, and consequently to render them useless. This
is the reason why the strength of ideas, that is, of philosophy, was
never so little to be relied on as now, to produce any thing durable
and consistent in the moral order: in this respect, the gain to modern
society may well be questioned. More is conceived, but less matured;
what the mind gains in extent, it loses in depth, and the pretension
in theory makes a sad contrast with the impotence of practice. Of what
importance is it that our predecessors were not so ready as we are in
_improvising_ a discussion on great social and political questions, if
they nevertheless organized and founded such admirable institutions?
The architects who raised the astonishing monuments of ages which we
call barbarous, were certainly not so learned or so cultivated as
those of our time; and yet who has the boldness even to commence what
they have finished? Thus it is in the social and political order. Let
us remember that great thoughts are produced rather by intuition than
by reasoning; in practice, success depends more upon the invaluable
quality called tact, than upon enlightened reflection; and experience
often teaches that he who knows much, sees little. The genius of Plato
would not have been the best guide for Solon or Lycurgus; and all the
knowledge of Cicero would not have succeeded in doing what was done
by the tact and good sense of two unlettered men like Romulus and
Numa.[20]