THE IMPROVEMENT OF MANNERS BY THE ACTION OF THE CHURCH.
Modern society ought, it would seem, to be distinguished for severity
and cruelty, since it was formed from that of the Romans and
barbarians, from both of whom it should have inherited these qualities.
Who is not aware of the fierce manners of the northern barbarians? The
historians of that time have left us statements that make us shudder
when we read them. It was believed that the end of the world was at
hand; and, indeed, it was excusable to consider the last catastrophe
as near, when so many other melancholy ones had already been heaped
upon humanity. The imagination cannot figure to itself what would have
happened to the world at this crisis, if Christianity had not existed.
Even supposing that society would have been organized anew under one
form or another, it is certain that private and public relations would
have remained in a state of lamentable disorder, and that legislation
would have been unjust and inhuman. Thus the influence of the Church on
civil legislation was an inestimable benefit; thus even the power of
the clergy in temporal things was one of the greatest safeguards of the
highest interests of society.
Attacks are often made upon this temporal power of the clergy and this
influence of the Church in worldly affairs. But, in the first place, it
should be remembered, that this power and influence were brought about
by the very nature of things; that is to say, they were natural, and,
consequently, to assail them is to declaim in vain against the force of
events, of which no man could hinder the realization. This power and
influence, besides, were legitimate; for when society is in danger,
nothing can be more legitimate than that that which can save it should
save it. Now, at the time we speak of, the Church alone could save
society. The Church, which is not an abstract being, but a real and
substantial society, acted upon civil society by real and substantial
means. If the purely material interests of society were in question,
the minister of the Church ought, in some way or other, to take part
in the direction of those interests. These reflections are so natural
and simple, that their truth must be seen by good sense. All those who
know any thing of history are now generally agreed on this point; and
if we are not aware how much it generally costs the human mind to enter
upon the path of truth, and, above all, how much bad faith there has
been in the examination of these questions, we shall have a difficulty
in understanding that so much time should have been required to bring
the world to agree on a thing which is apparent to those who read
history. But let us return to our subject. This extraordinary mixture
of the cruelty of a cultivated but corrupted people with the atrocious
ferocity of a barbarous one, proud of its triumphs, and intoxicated
with blood during long wars, placed in European society a germ of
severity and cruelty which fermented there for ages, and the remains of
which we find at a late period. The precept of Christian charity was in
men's heads, but Roman cruelty and barbarian ferocity still prevailed
in their hearts; ideas were pure and beneficent, since they proceeded
from a religion of love, but they encountered a terrible resistance
in the habits, manners, institutions, and laws, for all these were
more or less disfigured by the two mixed principles which I have just
pointed out. If we reflect upon the constant and obstinate struggle
between the Catholic Church and the elements which contended with her,
we shall clearly see that Christian ideas could never have prevailed
in legislation and manners, if Christianity had been a religious idea
abandoned to human caprice, as Protestants imagine; it was necessary
for it to be realized in a powerful institution, in a strongly
constituted society, such as we find in the Catholic Church. In order
to give an idea of the efforts made by the Church, I will point out
some of the regulations which she made for the purpose of improving
manners. Private animosities were very violent at the time of which we
speak; and right was decided by force, and the world was threatened
with becoming the patrimony of the strongest. Public law did not
exist, or was hurried away and confounded by outrages which its feeble
hand could never prevent or repress; it was altogether powerless in
rendering manners pacific, and in subjecting men to reason and justice.
Then we see that the Church, besides the instruction and the general
admonitions inseparable from her sacred mission, adopted at that time
certain measures calculated to restrain the torrent of violence which
ravaged and destroyed every thing. The Council of Arles, celebrated in
the middle of the fifth century, between 443 and 452, ordains, in its
50th canon, that the Church should be interdicted to those who have
public animosities, until they were reconciled. The Council of Angers,
celebrated in 453, proscribes, by its 3d canon, acts of violence and
mutilation. The Council of Agde, in Languedoc, celebrated in 506,
ordains, in its 31st canon, that enemies who would not be reconciled
should be admonished by the priests, and excommunicated if they did not
follow their apostolical counsels.
The Franks at that time had the custom of going armed, and they always
entered the churches with their arms. It will be understood that such
a custom must have produced great evils; the house of prayer was often
converted into an arena of blood and vengeance. In the middle of the
seventh century, the Council of Chalons-sur-Saone, in its 17th canon,
pronounces excommunication against all laymen who excite tumults,
or draw their swords to strike any one in the churches or in their
precincts. Thus, we see the prudence and foresight which dictated the
29th canon of the third Council of Orleans, celebrated in 538, which
forbids any one to be present at mass or vespers, armed. It is curious
to observe the uniformity of design and plan pursued by the Church.
In countries the most distant from each other, and at times when
communication could not be frequent, we find regulations analogous to
those which we have pointed out. The Council of Lerida, held in 546,
ordains, by its 7th canon, that he who shall have sworn not to be
reconciled with his enemy, shall be deprived of the participation of
the body and blood of Jesus Christ until he has done penance for his
oath and been reconciled.
Centuries passed away, acts of violence continued, the precept of
fraternal charity, which obliges us to love even our enemies, always
met with open resistance in the harsh character and fierce passions
of the descendants of the barbarians; but the Church did not cease to
preach the divine command; she continually inculcated and labored
to render it efficacious by means of spiritual penalties. More than
four hundred years had elapsed since the celebration of the Council
of Arles, where we have seen the church forbidden to those who were
openly at variance; we then see the Council of Worms, held in 868,
pronouncing, in its 41st canon, excommunication against enemies who
refused to be reconciled. It will suffice to have some idea of the
disorders of that time, to know whether it was possible to appease the
violence of animosities during this long period. One would fancy that
the Church would have been wearied of inculcating a precept which the
unhappy state of circumstances so often rendered fruitless; but such
was not the case: she continued to speak as she had spoken for ages;
she never lost her confidence that her words would produce fruit in the
present, and would be productive in the future. Such is her system;
one would think that she heard these words constantly repeated, "Cry
out, cry out without ceasing; raise thy voice like a trumpet." It is
then that she triumphs over all resistance; when she cannot exert
her power over the will of a nation, she makes her voice heard with
indefatigable diligence in the sanctuary. There she assembles seven
thousand who have not bent the knee to Baal; and while she endeavors to
confirm them in faith and good works, she protests, in the name of God,
against those who resist the Holy Spirit. Let us imagine that, amid
the dissipation and distraction of a populous city, we enter a sacred
place, where seriousness and moderation reign, in the bosom of silence
and religious retirement; there a minister of the sanctuary, surrounded
by a chosen number of the faithful, utters from time to time some
serious and solemn words. This is the personification of the Church in
times disastrous from weakened faith and corrupted morals. One of the
rules of conduct of the Catholic Church has been, not to bend before
the powerful. When she has proclaimed a law, she has proclaimed it for
all, without distinction of rank. In the time of the power of those
petty tyrants, who, under different names, persecuted the people, this
conduct of the Church contributed in an extraordinary degree to render
the ecclesiastical laws popular; for nothing was more likely to make
a law tolerable to the people than to show that it applied to nobles,
and even to kings. In the times of which we speak, hatred and violence
among plebeians were severely proscribed; but the same law extended
to great men and to royalty. A short time after the establishment
of Christianity in England, we find a very curious example in that
country, applicable to this question. It is nothing less than
excommunication pronounced against three kings in the same year, and
in the same town; all these were compelled by the Councils to do
penance for the crimes which they had committed. The town of Llandaff,
in Wales, within the metropolitan see of Canterbury, witnessed the
celebration of three Councils, in the year 560. In the first, Monric,
king of Glamorgan, was excommunicated for having put to death King
Cinétha, although he had sworn the peace on the sacred relics; in the
second, King Morcant was excommunicated for having put to death Friac,
his uncle, in whose favor he had equally sworn the peace; in the third,
King Guidnert was excommunicated for having put to death his brother,
the competitor for the throne.
Thus, these barbarian chiefs, just changed into kings, and prone to
slaughter, are compelled to acknowledge the authority of a superior
power, and to expiate by penance the murder of their relatives and
the violation of sacred engagements; it is useless to point out how
much this must have contributed to the improvement of manners. "It was
easy," the enemies of the Church will say--those who endeavor to lower
the merit of her acts--"it was easy to preach gentleness of manners,
to impose the observance of divine precepts on chiefs whose power was
limited, and who had only the name of kings; it was easy to manage
those petty barbarian chiefs, who, rendered fanatical by a religion of
which they understood nothing, humbly bowed before the first priest who
ventured to menace them on the part of God. But of what importance
was that? What influence could it have on the course of great events?
The history of European civilization presents a vast theatre, where
events must be studied on a large scale, and where none but the most
important scenes exercised any influence on the spirit of nations." Let
us observe, that these petty barbarian kings were the origin of the
principal families which now occupy the most important thrones of the
world. To place the germ of real civilization in their hearts, was to
graft the tree which was one day to overshadow the earth. But without
staying to show the futility of such reasoning, and as our opponents
desire great scenes capable of influencing European manners on a
large scale, let us open the history of the Church in the first ages,
and we shall soon find a page which redounds to the eternal honor of
Catholicity. The whole of the known world was subject to an emperor,
whose name, then universally venerated, will continue to be respected
by the remotest posterity. In an important city, the rebellious
inhabitants put to death the commander of the garrison; the emperor,
transported with anger, orders them to be exterminated. Returning to
himself, he revokes the order; but it was too late, the order was
executed, and thousands of victims had been involved in the horrible
carnage; at the news of this dreadful catastrophe, a bishop quits the
court of the emperor, leaves the city, and writes to him in this grave
language: "I dare not offer the sacrifice if you attempt to be present
at it; the blood of one innocent person would suffice to forbid me; how
much more the massacre of a large number." The emperor, confident in
his power, takes no notice of this letter, and goes towards the church.
When he arrives at the door, he finds himself in the presence of a
venerable man, who, with a grave and stern countenance, stops him and
forbids him to enter the church. "Thou hast imitated David in crime,"
he says, "imitate him also in penance." The emperor yields, humbles
himself, and submits to the regulations of the bishop, and religion and
humanity gain an immortal triumph. This unhappy city was Thessalonica;
the emperor was Theodosius; the prelate was St. Ambrose, Archbishop of
Milan.
We find face to face, in this sublime fact, force and justice
personified. Justice triumphs over force; but why? Because he who
represents justice, represents it in the name of Heaven; because
the sacred vestments and the imposing attitude of the man who stops
the emperor reminds Theodosius of the divine mission of the holy
bishop, and of the office which he holds in the sacred ministry. Put
a philosopher in the place of the bishop, and tell him to arrest the
proud culprit by an injunction of doing penance, and you will see
whether human wisdom can do as much as the Catholic priest speaking
in the name of God. Put, if you please, a bishop of the Church, who
has acknowledged spiritual supremacy in the civil power, and you will
see whether in his mouth words have the same effect in obtaining so
glorious a triumph. The spirit of the Church was always the same; her
arms were always directed towards the same end; her language was always
equally strict, equally strong, whether she spoke to the Roman plebeian
or a barbarian, whether she addressed her admonitions to a patrician of
the empire or to a noble German. She was no more afraid of the purple
of the Cæsars than of the frowns of the long-haired kings. The power
which she possessed during the middle ages was not exclusively owing
to her having preserved alone the light of science and the principles
of government; but it was also owing to the invincible firmness, which
no resistance and no attack could destroy. What would Protestantism
have effected in such difficult and dangerous circumstances? Without
authority, without a centre of action, without security for her own
faith, without confidence in her resources, what means would she
have had to assist her in restraining the torrent of violence--that
impetuous torrent, which, after having inundated the world, was about
to destroy the remains of ancient civilization, and opposed to all
attempts at social reorganization an obstacle almost insurmountable?
Catholicity, with its ardent faith, its powerful authority, its
undivided unity, its well-compacted hierarchy, was able to undertake
the lofty enterprise of improving manners; and it brought to the
undertaking that constancy which is inspired by conscious strength, and
that boldness which animates a mind secure of triumph.
We must not, however, imagine that the conduct of the Church, in her
mission of improving manners, always brought her into collision with
force. We also see her employ indirect means, limit her demands to what
she could obtain, and ask for as little, in order to obtain as much as
possible. In a capitulary of Charlemagne, given at Aix-la-Chapelle in
813, and consisting of twenty-six articles, which are nothing more than
a sort of confirmation and _résumé_ of the five Councils held a little
before in France, we find in an appendix of two articles the method of
proceeding judicially against those who, under pretext of the right
called _faida_, excited tumults on Sundays, holidays, and also working
days. We have already seen above that they had recourse to the holy
relics, to give greater authority to the oaths of peace and friendship
taken by kings towards each other--an august act, in which Heaven was
invoked to prevent the effusion of blood, and to establish peace on
earth. We see in the capitulary which we have just quoted, that the
respect for Sundays and holidays was made use of to bring about the
abolition of the barbarous custom, which authorized the relations of
a murdered man to avenge his death in the blood of the murderer. The
deplorable state of European society at that time is vividly painted
by the means which the ecclesiastical power was compelled to use, to
diminish in some degree the disasters occasioned by the prevailing
violence. Not to attack, not to maltreat any one, not to have recourse
to force to obtain reparation or to gratify a desire of vengeance,
appears to us to be so just, so reasonable, and so natural, that
we can hardly imagine another way of acting. If, now, a law were
promulgated, to forbid one to attack one's enemy on such or such a day,
at such or such an hour, it would appear to us the height of folly and
extravagance. But it was not so at that time; such prohibitions were
made continually, not in obscure hamlets, but in great towns, in very
numerous assemblies, when bishops were present in hundreds, and where
counts, dukes, princes, and kings were gathered together. This law, by
which authority was glad to make the principles of justice respected,
at least on certain days,--principally on the great solemnities,--this
law, which now would appear to us so strange, was, in a certain way,
and for a long period, one of the chief points of public and private
law in Europe. It will be understood that I allude to the truce of God,
a privilege of peace very necessary at that time, as we see it very
often renewed in various countries. Of all that I might say on this
point, I shall content myself with selecting a few of the decisions
of Councils at the time. The Council of Tubuza, in the diocese of
Elne, in Roussillon, held by Guifred, Archbishop of Narbonne, in 1041,
established the truce of God, from the evening of Friday until Monday
morning. Nobody during that time could take any thing by force, or
revenge any injury, or require any pledge in surety. Those who violated
this decree were liable to the same legal composition as if they had
merited death; in default of which, they were excommunicated and
banished from the country.
The practice of this ecclesiastical regulation was considered so
advantageous, that many other Councils were held in France during the
same year, on the same subject. Moreover, care was taken frequently
to repeat the obligation, as we see by the Council of Saint Gilles,
in Languedoc, held in 1042, and by that of Narbonne, held in 1045. In
spite of these, repeated efforts did not obtain all the desired fruit;
this is indicated by the changes which we observe in the regulations
of the law. Thus we see that, in the year 1047, the truce of God was
fixed for a less time than in 1041; the Council of Telugis, in the same
diocese of Elne, held in 1047, only ordains that it is forbidden to
any one in all the _comté_ of Roussillon to attack his enemy between
the hours of none on Sunday and prime on Monday; the law was then
much less extensive than in 1041, when, as we have seen, the truce of
God was extended from Friday evening till Monday morning. We find in
the same Council a remarkable regulation, the object of which was to
preserve from all attack men who were going to church or returning
from it, or who were accompanying women. In 1054, the truce of God
had gained ground; we see it extended, not only from Friday evening
till Monday morning after sunrise, but over considerable periods of
the year. Thus we see that the Council of Narbonne, held by Archbishop
Guifred, in 1045, after having included in the truce of God the time
from Friday evening till Monday morning, declares it obligatory during
the following periods: from the first Sunday of Advent till the octave
of the Epiphany; from Quinquagesima Sunday till the octave of Easter;
from the Sunday preceding the Ascension till the octave of Pentecost;
the festival days of Our Lady, of St. Peter, of St. Laurence, of
St. Michael, of All Saints, of St. Martin, of St. Just and Pasteur,
titularies of the Church of Narbonne, and all fasting days, under pain
of anathema and perpetual banishment. The same Council gives some other
regulations, so beautiful that we cannot pass them over in silence,
when we are engaged in showing the influence of the Catholic Church in
improving manners. The 9th canon forbids the cutting of olive-trees;
a reason for it is given, which, in the eyes of jurists, will not
appear sufficiently general or adequate, but which, in the eyes of
the philosophy of history, is a beautiful symbol of the beneficial
influence exercised over society by religion. This is the reason
given by the Council: "It is," it says, "_that the olive-trees may
furnish matter for the holy chrism, and feed the lamps that burn in
the churches_." Such a reason was sure to produce more effect than any
that could be drawn from Ulpian and Justinian. It is ordained in the
10th canon that shepherds and their flocks shall enjoy at all times the
security of the truce; the same favor is extended by the 11th canon to
all houses within thirty paces of the churches. The 18th canon forbids
those who have a suit, to take any active steps, to commit the least
violence, until the cause has been judged in presence of the bishop and
lord of the place. The other canons forbid the robbing of merchants and
pilgrims, and the commission of wrong against any one, under pain of
being separated from the Church, if the crime be committed during the
time of the truce.
In proportion as we advance in the 11th century, we see the salutary
practice of the truce of God more and more inculcated; the Popes
interpose their authority in its favor. At the Council of Gironne, held
by Cardinal Hugues-le-Blanc, in 1068, the truce of God is confirmed
by the authority of Alexander II., under pain of excommunication; the
Council held in 1080, at Lillebonne, in Normandy, gives us reason
to suppose that the truce was then generally established, since it
ordains, by its first canon to bishops and lords, to take care that it
was observed, and to inflict on offenders against it censures and other
penalties. In the year 1093, the Council of Troja, in Apulia, held
by Urban II., continues the truce of God. To judge of the extent of
this canonical regulation, we should know that this Council consisted
of sixty-five bishops. The number was much greater at the Council of
Clermont, in Auvergne, held by the same Urban II., in 1095; it reckoned
no less than thirteen archbishops, two hundred and twenty bishops, and
a great number of abbots. The first canon of this Council confirms the
truce for Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday; it wishes, moreover,
that it should be observed on all the days of the week, with respect to
monks, clergy, and women. The canons 29 and 30 ordain, that if a man
pursued by an enemy take refuge near a cross, he should be in safety,
as if he had found asylum in a church. The sublime sign of redemption,
after having given salvation to the world, by drinking on Calvary the
blood of the Son of God, had already proved a refuge, during the sack
of Rome, to those who fled from the fury of the barbarians; centuries
later, we find it erected on the roads, to save the unfortunate, who,
by embracing it, escaped their enemies, who were thus deterred from
vengeance.
The Council of Rouen, held in 1096, extending still further the benefit
of the truce, ordains the observance of it from the Sunday before
Ash Wednesday till the second feast after the octave of Pentecost,
from sunset on Wednesday preceding Advent to the octave of Epiphany,
and every week from Friday after sunset till the Monday following at
sunrise; in fine, on all the feasts and vigils of the Virgin and the
Apostles. The 2d canon of the same Council secures perpetual peace to
all clergy, monks, and nuns, to women, to pilgrims, to merchants and
their servants, to oxen and horses of labor, to carmen and laborers;
it gives the same privileges to all lands that belong to sacred
institutions; all such persons, animals, and lands are protected from
the attacks of pillage and all kinds of violence. At this time the
law felt itself stronger; it could now call for obedience in a firmer
tone; we see, indeed, that the third canon of the same Council enjoins
upon all who have reached the age of twelve, to engage by oath to
observe the truce; in the fourth canon, all who refuse to take this
oath are excommunicated. Some years after, in 1115, the truce, instead
of comprising certain stated parts of the year, embraces whole years;
the Council of Troja in Apulia, held in that year by Pope Pascal,
establishes the truce for three years.
The Popes pursued with ardor the work thus commenced; they sanctioned
it with their authority, and extended the observance of the truce by
means of their influence, then universal and powerful over all Europe.
Although the truce was apparently only a testimony of respect paid to
religion by the violent passions, which, in her favor, consented to
suspend their hostilities, it was, in reality, a triumph of right over
might, and one of the most admirable devices ever used to improve the
manners of a barbarous people. The man who, during four days of the
week, and during long periods of the year, was compelled to suspend the
exercise of force, was necessarily led to more gentle manners; he must,
in the end, entirely renounce it. The difficulty is not, to convince
a man that he does ill, but to make him lose the habit of doing so;
and it is well known that habits are engendered by the repetition of
acts, and are lost when they cease for a time. Nothing is more pleasing
to the Christian soul than to see the Popes laboring to maintain and
extend this truce. They renew the command of it with a power the more
efficacious and universal according to the number of bishops who assist
at the Councils where their supreme authority presides. At the Council
of Rheims, opened by Pope Calixtus II. in person, in 1119, a decree
confirming the truce is promulgated. Thirteen archbishops, more than
two hundred bishops, and a great number of abbots and ecclesiastics,
distinguished for their rank, assisted at this Council. The same
command is renewed at the General Council of Lateran, held under the
care of the same Pontiff, Calixtus II., in 1123. There were assembled
more than three hundred archbishops and bishops, and more than six
hundred abbots. In 1130, the Council of Clermont, in Auvergne, held by
Innocent II., insists on the same point, and repeats the regulations
concerning the observance of the truce. The Council of Avignon,
held in 1209, by Hugh, Bishop of Riez, and Milon, notary of Pope
Innocent III., both legates of the Holy See, confirms the laws before
enacted on the subject of the peace and the truce, and condemns the
rebellious who dare to infringe them. In the year 1215, at the Council
of Montpellier, assembled by Robert de Courçon, and presided over by
Cardinal Benavent, in his office as legate of the province, all the
regulations established at different times for the public safety, and
more recently to secure peace between lord and lord, and town and town,
are renewed and confirmed.
Those who have regarded the intervention of the ecclesiastical power
in civil affairs as a usurpation of the rights of public authority,
should tell us how it is possible to usurp that which does not exist,
and how a power which is unable to exercise the authority which ought
to belong to it, can reasonably complain when that authority passes
into the hands of those who have force and skill to make use of it.
At that time, the public authority did not at all complain of these
pretended usurpations. Governments and nations looked upon them as
just and legitimate; for, as we have said above, they were natural and
necessary, they were brought about by the force of events, they were
the result of the situation of affairs. Certainly, it would now seem
extraordinary to see bishops provide for the security of roads, publish
edicts against incendiaries, against robbers, against those who cut
down olive-trees and commit other injuries of the kind; but, at the
time we are speaking of, this proceeding was very natural, and more,
it was necessary. Thanks to the care of the Church, to that incessant
solicitude which has been since so inconsiderately blamed, the
foundations of the social edifice, in which we now dwell in peace, were
laid; an organization was realized which would have been impossible
without the influence of religion and the action of ecclesiastical
authority. If you wish to know whether any fact of which you have to
judge is the result of the nature of things, or the fruit of well
contrived combinations, observe the manner in which it appears, the
places where it takes its rise, the times which witness its appearance;
and if you shall find it reproduced at once in places far distant from
each other, by men who can have had no concert, be assured that it is
not the result of human contrivance, but of the force of events. These
conditions are found united in a palpable manner in the action of the
ecclesiastical power on public affairs. Open the Councils of those
times, and everywhere the same facts meet your eyes; thus, to quote a
few examples, the Council of Palentia, in the kingdom of Leon, held in
1129, decrees, in its 12th canon, exile or seclusion in a monastery,
against those who attack the clergy, monks, merchants, pilgrims, and
women. Let us pass into France; the Council of Clermont, in Auvergne,
held in 1130, pronounces, in its 13th canon, excommunication against
incendiaries. In 1157, the Council of Rheims, in the 3d canon, orders
to be respected, during war, the persons of the clergy, of monks,
women, travellers, laborers, and vine-dressers. Let us pass into
Italy; the 11th Council of Lateran, a General Council, convoked in
1179, forbids, in its 22d canon, to maltreat or disturb monks, clergy,
pilgrims, merchants, peasants, either travelling or engaged in the
labors of agriculture, and animals laboring in the fields. In its 24th
canon, the same Council excommunicates those who make slaves of, or
rob, Christians on voyages of commerce, or for other lawful purposes;
those who plunder the shipwrecked are subjected to the same penalty,
unless they make restitution. Let us go to England; there the Council
of Oxford, held in 1222, by Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury,
forbids, by its 20th canon, any one to have robbers in their service.
In Sweden, the Council of Arbogen, held in 1396, by Henry, Archbishop
of Upsala, directs, by its 5th canon, that church-burial shall
be refused to pirates, ravishers, incendiaries, highway robbers,
oppressors of the poor, and other malefactors; so that in all parts,
and at the same periods, we see the same fact appear, viz. the
Church struggling against injustice and violence, and endeavoring to
substitute in their stead the empire of law and justice.
In what spirit must they read the history of the Church, who do not
feel the beauty of the picture presented to us by the multitude of
regulations, scarcely indicated here, all tending to protect the weak
against the strong? The clergy and monks, on account of the weakness
consequent on their peaceful profession, find in the canons which
we have just quoted peculiar protection; but the same is granted to
females, to pilgrims, to merchants, to villagers, travelling, or
engaged in rural labors, and to beasts of labor--in a word, to all that
is weak; and observe, that this protection is not a mere passing effort
of generosity, but a system practised in widely different places,
continued for centuries, developed and applied by all the means that
charity suggests--a system inexhaustible in resources and contrivances,
both in producing good and in preventing evil. And surely it cannot be
said that the Church was influenced in this by views of self-interest:
what interested motive could she have in preventing the spoliation of
an obscure traveller, the violence inflicted on a poor laborer, or the
insult offered to a defenceless woman? The spirit which then animated
her, whatever might be the abuses which were introduced during unhappy
times, was, as it now is, the spirit of God himself--that spirit which
continually communicates to her so marked an inclination towards
goodness and justice, and always urges her to realize, by any possible
means, her sublime desires. I leave the reader to judge whether or not
the constant efforts of the Church to banish the dominion of force
from the bosom of society were likely to improve manners. I now speak
only of times of peace; for I need not stay to prove that during the
time of war that influence must have had the happiest results. The _væ
victis_ of the ancients has disappeared from modern history, thanks
to the divine religion which knew how to inspire man with new ideas
and new feelings--thanks to the Catholic Church, whose zeal for the
redemption of captives has softened the fierce maxims of the Romans,
who, as we have seen, had considered it necessary to take from brave
men the hope of being redeemed from servitude, when by the chances of
war they had fallen into the hands of their enemies. The reader may
revert to the seventh chapter of this work, and the third paragraph of
the fifteenth note, where there are, in the original text, numerous
documents that may be quoted in support of our assertion; he will thus
be better able to judge of the gratitude which is due to the charity,
disinterestedness, and indefatigable zeal of the Catholic Church in
favor of the unfortunate, who groaned in bondage in the power of their
enemies. We must also consider that, slavery once abolished, the system
was necessarily improved; for if those who surrendered could no longer
be put to death, or be kept in slavery, the only thing to be done was,
to retain them for the time necessary to prevent their doing mischief,
or until they were ransomed. Now, this is the modern system, which
consists in retaining prisoners till the end of the war, or until they
are exchanged.
Although the amelioration of manners, as I have said above, consists,
properly speaking, in the exclusion of force, we must yet avoid
considering this exclusion of force in the abstract, and believing that
such an order of things was possible, by virtue of the mere development
of mind. All is connected in this world; it is not enough, to
constitute the real improvement of manners, that they avoid violence as
much as possible; they must also be benevolent. As long as they are not
so, they will be less gentle than enervated; the use of force will not
be banished from society, but it will remain artificially disguised.
It will be understood, then, that we are obliged here to take a survey
of the principle whence European civilization has drawn the spirit of
benevolence which distinguishes it; we shall thus succeed in showing
that the gentleness of our present manners is principally owing to
Catholicity. There is, besides, in the examination of the principle
of benevolence, so much importance of its own, independently of its
connection with the question which now occupies us, that we cannot
avoid devoting some pages to it, in the course of an analytical review
of the elements of our civilization.[22]