OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN HISTORY.--THE FIRST SOLITARIES.
I have just examined religious institutions in a general point of view,
by considering them in their relations with religion and the human
mind. I am now going to take a glance at the principal points of their
history. This examination, I think, will show us an important truth:
viz. that the appearance of these institutions under different forms
has been the expression and the fulfilment of great moral necessities,
and a powerful means, in the hands of Providence, of promoting not
only the spiritual good of the Church, but also the salvation and
regeneration of society. It will be understood that it is not possible
for me to enter into details, or pass in review the numerous religious
institutions which have existed; besides, this is not necessary for my
object. I shall limit myself, therefore, to running over the principal
phases of religious institutes, and making a few remarks on each of
them; I shall act like the traveller who, being unable to make a stay
in the country through which he passes, looks at it for a short time
from the highest points. I will begin with the solitaries of the East.
The Colossus of the Roman Empire threatened an approaching and stunning
fall: the spirit of life was rapidly becoming extinguished, and
there was no longer any hope of a breath to reanimate it. The blood
circulated slowly in its veins; the evil was incurable: the symptoms of
corruption everywhere manifested themselves, and this agony was exactly
coincident with the critical and formidable hour when it was necessary
to collect all its forces to resist the violent shock which was about
to destroy it. The barbarians appeared on the frontiers of the empire,
like the carnivorous animals attracted by the exhalations of a dead
body; and at this crisis society found itself on the eve of a fearful
catastrophe. All the world was about to undergo an alarming change; the
next day was not likely to resemble the last; the tree was about to be
torn up; but its roots were too deep for it to be extirpated without
changing the whole face of the soil where it was planted. The greatest
refinement had to contend with barbarian ferocity,--the effeminate
luxury of southern nations with the energy of the robust sons of
the forest; the result of the struggle could not be doubtful. Laws,
customs, manners, monuments, arts and sciences,--all the civilization
and refinement acquired during the course of many ages was all in
peril, all foreboded approaching ruin, all understood that God had
appointed an end to the power, and even the existence of the rulers of
the globe. The barbarians were only the instrument of Providence; the
hand which had given a mortal blow to the mistress of the world, the
queen of nations, was that formidable hand which touches mountains with
fire, and reduces them to ashes, which touches the rocks and melts them
like metal; it was the hand of Him who sends forth His fiery breath
upon the nations, and burns them up like straw.
The world must be the prey of chaos for a short time; but was not light
again to come upon it? Was mankind to be melted, like gold in the
furnace, in order to come out more brilliant and more pure? Were ideas
respecting God and man to be corrected? Were more delicate and exalted
notions of morality to be diffused? Was it reserved for the heart of
man to receive more grave and sublime inspirations, to emerge from its
corrupt state, and live in an atmosphere higher and more worthy of an
immortal being? Yes! Providence thus decreed, and His infinite wisdom
has brought about this end by ways which man could not understand.
Christianity was already spread over the face of the world; her
holy doctrines, rendered fruitful by grace, prepared the complete
regeneration of the world; but it was necessary that mankind should
again receive a new impulse from her divine hands, that the mind of
man should be moved by a new shock, that it might take its proper
flight, and raise itself at once to the exalted position which was
intended for it, and from which it was never to descend. History tells
us of the obstacles which opposed the establishment and development
of Christianity. According to the warlike expression of the Prophet,
God was compelled to assume His sword and buckler; by the strength of
wonderful prodigies, He broke the resistance of the passions, destroyed
every knowledge which raised itself against the knowledge of God,
scattered all the powers which rebelled against Him, and extinguished
the pride and obstinacy of hell. When, after three centuries of
persecution, victory declared itself throughout the world in favor of
the true religion; when the temples of the false gods were deserted,
and those idols which were not yet overthrown trembled on their
pedestals; when the sign of Calvary was inscribed on the Labarum of
the Cæsars, and the legions of the empire bowed religiously before
the Cross, then had the moment arrived for Christianity to realize,
in a permanent manner, in those sublime institutions conceived and
established by herself alone, the lofty counsels given three centuries
before in Palestine. The wisdom of philosophers had been vain; the time
was come to realize the wisdom of the Carpenter of Nazareth, of Him
who, without having consulted human learning, had proclaimed and taught
truths unknown to the most privileged of mortals.
The virtues of the Christians had already emerged from the obscurity of
the catacombs; they were to be resplendent in the light of heaven and
amid peace, as they had formerly shone in the depths of dungeons and
amid the flames. Christianity had obtained possession of the sceptre
of command, as of the domestic hearth; her disciples, who now were
multitudinous, no longer lived in a community of goods; it is clear
that entire continence, and complete freedom from all earthly things,
could no longer be the mode of life of the regenerated families. The
world was to continue; the duration of the human race was not to cease
at this point of its career; therefore, all Christians were not to
observe the lofty counsels which convert the life of man on earth into
the angelic. A great number of them were to belong to those who, in
order to obtain eternal life, were satisfied with keeping the precepts,
without aspiring to the sublime perfection which results from the
renouncement of all that is earthly, and the complete abnegation of
self. Yet the Founder of the Christian religion was unwilling that
the counsels which He had given to men should be for a moment without
some disciples amid the coldness and dissipation of the world. He had
not given them in vain; and, besides, the practice of them, although
confined to a limited number of the faithful, exerted on all sides a
beneficent influence which facilitated and secured the observance of
the precepts. The force of example exerts so powerful an ascendency
over the human heart, that it is often sufficient of itself to
triumph over the strongest and most obstinate resistance; there is
something in our hearts which inclines them to sympathize with all that
approaches them, whether good or evil; and there seems to be a secret
stimulus urging us to follow others, whatever direction they may take.
Therefore it is that there are so many advantages in the establishment
of religious institutions, in which the virtues and austerity of life
are given as an example to the generality of men, and make an eloquent
reproach to the errors of passion.
Providence desired to attain this great end by singular and
extraordinary means; the Spirit of God breathed on the earth, and
immediately the men and power to commence this great work appeared.
The frightful deserts of Thebaïd, the burning solitudes of Arabia,
Palestine, and Syria, show us men rudely clad, with a mantle of
goat-skin on their shoulders, and a plain cowl on their heads: behold
all the luxury with which they confound the vanity and pride of
worldlings! Their bodies, exposed to the rays of the most burning sun
and the most severe cold, besides being attenuated by long fasts,
resemble walking spectres who have arisen from the dust of their
sepulchres. The herbs of the earth are their only food, water their
only drink; the labor of their hands procures for them the scanty
resources they require. Under the direction of a venerable old man,
whose claims to rule are a long life passed in the desert, and hairs
grown white amid privations and austerities, they constantly keep
the profoundest silence; their lips are opened only to pronounce the
words of prayer; their voice is only heard to intone a hymn of praise
to God. For them the world has ceased to exist; the relations of
friendship, the sweet ties of family and relationship, are all broken
by a spirit of perfection, carried to an extent which surpasses all
earthly considerations. The cares of property do not disturb them;
before retiring to the desert, they have abandoned all to him who was
to succeed them; or they have sold all they had, and given the price to
the poor. The Holy Scriptures are the nourishment of their minds; they
learn by heart the words of that divine book; they meditate on them
unceasingly, beseeching the Lord to grant that they may understand them
aright. In their retired meetings, nothing is heard but the voice of
some venerable cenobite, explaining with naïve simplicity and touching
unction the sense of the sacred text; but always in such a way as to
draw profit for the purification of souls.
The number of these solitaries was so great that we could not credit
it, if it were not vouched for by eye-witnesses worthy of the highest
respect. As to their sanctity, spirit of penance, and purity of life,
we cannot doubt them after the testimonies of Rufinus, Palladius,
St. Jerome, St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and all the other
illustrious men who distinguished themselves at that time. The fact
is singular, extraordinary, prodigious; but no one can question its
historical truth; it is attested by all who came to the desert from
all parts to seek for light in their doubts, cures for their evils,
and pardon for their sins. I could quote a thousand authorities to
prove what I have said; but I will content myself with one, which shall
suffice for all--that of St. Augustine. Hear how this holy doctor
describes the life of these extraordinary men: "These fathers, not only
very holy in their manners, but very learned in the Christian doctrine,
excellent men in all respects, do not govern with pride those whom they
justly call their sons, on account of the high authority of those who
command, and the ready will of those who obey. At the decline of day,
one of them, still fasting, quits his habitation, and all assemble to
hear their master. Each of these fathers _has at least three thousand
under his direction; for the number is sometimes much greater_. They
listen with incredible attention, in profound silence, manifesting
by their groans, or tears, or by their modest and tranquil joy, the
various feelings which the discourse excites in their souls." (St.
Augustin. lib. 1, _De Moribus Ecclesiæ_, cap. 31.)
But it will be said, Of what use were these men, except for their own
sanctification? what good did they do to society? what influence did
they exert on ideas? what change did they make in manners? If we admit
that this plant of the desert was beautiful and fragrant, yet what did
it avail? it remained sterile. It certainly would be an error to think
that so many thousands of solitaries did not exercise great influence.
In the first place, and to speak only of what relates to ideas, we must
observe, that the monasteries of the East arose within reach, and under
the eyes of, the schools of philosophy. Egypt was the country where the
cenobitic life flourished the most. Now every one is aware of the high
renown which the schools of Alexandria enjoyed a short time before.
On all sides of the Mediterranean--on that border of land which,
beginning in Libya, terminates in the Black Sea--men's minds were at
that time in a state of extraordinary motion. Christianity and Judaism,
the doctrines of the East and those of the West--all was collected
and accumulated in this part of the world; the remains of the ancient
schools of Greece were formed of the treasures, which the course of
ages and the passage of the most famous nations of the earth had
brought to those countries. New and gigantic events were come to throw
floods of light upon the character and the value of ideas; minds had
felt shocks which did not allow them any longer to be contented with
the quiet lessons contained in the dialogues of the ancient masters.
From these famous countries came the most eminent men of the early ages
of Christianity; and we know from their works the extent and elevation
of mind which man had attained at that time. Was it possible that a
phenomenon so extraordinary--a girdle of monasteries and hermitages,
embracing this zone of the world, and showing themselves in the face of
the schools of philosophy--should not exert great influence on men's
minds? The ideas of the solitaries passed incessantly from the desert
into the towns; since, in spite of all the care which they took to
avoid the contact of the world, the world sought and approached them,
and continually came to receive their inspirations.
When we see the nations crowd to the solitaries the most eminent for
their sanctity, to implore from their wisdom a remedy for suffering
and a consolation in misfortunes; when we see these venerable men
impart, together with the unction of the Gospel, the sublime lessons
which they had learned during long years of meditation and prayer in
the silence of solitude, it is impossible not to understand how much
these communications must have contributed to correct and elevate ideas
relating to religion and morality, and to amend and purify morals.
Let us not forget that the human mind was, as it were, materialized
by the corruption and grossness of the pagan religion. The worship of
nature, of sensible forms, was so deeply rooted that, in order to raise
minds to the conception of superior things, a strong and extraordinary
reaction was required; it was necessary in some measure to annihilate
matter in order to present to man only the mind. The life of the
solitaries was the best adapted to produce this effect. In reading the
history of these times, we seem to find ourselves transported out of
this world; the flesh has disappeared, and there remains nothing but
the spirit; and the force which has been employed in order to subdue
the flesh is such--they have insisted so much on the vanity of earthly
things--that reality itself is changed into illusion, and the physical
world vanishes to make way for the moral and intellectual; all the ties
of earth have been broken; man puts himself in intimate communication
with Heaven. Miracles multiply exceedingly in these lives; apparitions
continually appear; the abodes of the solitaries are arenas where
earthly means are nothing; good angels struggle against demons, heaven
against hell, God against Satan: the earth is there only to serve as
a field of battle; the body exists no longer except to be consumed as
a holocaust on the altars of virtue, in the presence of the demon who
struggles furiously to render it the slave of vice.
What has become of the idolatrous worship which Greece paid to
sensible forms, that adoration which it offered to nature by deifying
all that was delicious and beautiful, all that could interest the
senses and the heart? What a profound change! the same senses are
subjected to the most severe privations; they are most strictly
circumcised in heart; and man, who then scarcely attempted to raise
his mind above the earth, now keeps it constantly fixed on Heaven. It
is impossible to form an idea of what we are attempting to describe,
without having read the lives of these solitaries; to understand all
the effect of their great prodigies, it is necessary to have spent many
hours over these pages, where, so to speak, nothing is found which
follows the natural course of things. It is not enough to imagine pure
lives, austerities, visions, and miracles; it is necessary to see all
this collected together, and carried to the most wonderful extent in
the path of perfection.
If you refuse to acknowledge the action of grace in facts so
surprising; if you will not see any supernatural effect in this
religious movement; I say more, if you go so far as to suppose that the
mortification of the flesh and the elevation of the soul are carried
to blamable exaggeration, still you cannot help allowing that such a
reaction was very likely to spiritualize ideas, to awaken the moral and
intellectual forces in man, and to concentrate all within himself, by
giving him the sentiment of that interior, intimate, and moral life,
with which, until then, he had not been occupied. The forehead which,
till then, had been bent towards the earth, was raised towards the
Divinity; something nobler than material enjoyments was offered to the
mind, and the brutal excesses authorized by the example of the false
divinities of paganism, at length appeared an offence against the high
dignity of human nature.
In the moral order, the effect must have been immense. Man, until then,
had not even imagined that it was possible to resist the impetuosity
of his passions. There were found, it is true, in the cold morality of
a few philosophers, certain maxims intended to restrain the dangerous
passions; but this morality was only in the books, the world did not
regard it as practicable, and if some men attempted to realize it,
they did so in such a manner that, far from giving it credit, they
rendered it contemptible. What did it avail to abandon riches and
profess freedom from all earthly things, as some philosophers did, if
at the same time they appeared so vain, so full of themselves, that it
was evident that they only sacrificed on the altar of pride? It was to
overturn all the idols in order to place themselves on the altar, and
reign there without rival gods; this was not to direct the passions, to
subject them to reason, but to create a monster passion surpassing and
devouring all. Humility, the foundation-stone whereon the solitaries
raised the edifice of their virtue, placed them immediately in a
position infinitely superior to that of the ancient philosophers who
were distinguished for a life more or less severe. In fine, men were
taught to avoid vice and practise virtue, not for the futile pleasure
of being regarded and admired, but for superior motives founded on the
relations of man with God, and the destinies of eternity. From that
moment man knew that it was not impossible for him to triumph over
evil, in the obstinate struggle which he felt continually going on
within himself. At the sight of so many thousands of persons of both
sexes who followed a rule of life so pure and austere, mankind took
fresh courage, and were convinced that the paths of virtue were not
impracticable for them.
The generous confidence with which man was inspired by the sight of
such sublime examples, lost nothing of its strength in presence of the
Christian dogma, which does not allow actions meritorious of eternal
life to be attributed to man himself, and teaches him the necessity of
divine aid, if he wishes to escape the paths of perdition. This dogma,
which, on the other hand, accords so well with the daily lessons of
experience as to human frailty, far from destroying the strength of the
mind or diminishing its courage, on the contrary, animates it more and
more to persevere in spite of all obstacles. When man thinks himself
alone, when he does not feel himself supported by the powerful hand
of Providence, he walks with the tottering steps of infancy; he wants
confidence in himself, in his own strength; the object he has in view
seems too distant, the enterprise too arduous, and he is discouraged.
The dogma of grace, as it is explained by the Catholic Church, is not
that fatalist doctrine, the mother of despair, which has hardened the
heart among Protestants, as Grotius laments. It is a doctrine which,
leaving man all his free will, teaches him the necessity of superior
aid; but that aid will be abundantly furnished him by the infinite
goodness of God, who has shed His blood for him in torments and
ignominy, and has breathed out for him His last sigh on Mount Calvary.
It seems as if Providence had been pleased to choose a climate where
mankind could make a trial of their strength vivified and sustained by
grace. It was under a sky apparently the most fatal for the corruption
of the soul, in countries where the relaxation of the body naturally
leads to relaxation of mind, and where even the air that they breathed
inclined to pleasure,--it was there that the greatest energy of mind
was displayed, that the greatest austerities were practised, and the
pleasures of the senses were proscribed and banished with the greatest
severity. The solitaries fixed their abodes in deserts within the
influence of the balmy breezes of the neighboring lands; from their
mountains and sandy hills their eyes could distinguish the peaceful
and smiling countries which invited to pleasure and enjoyment; like
the Christian virgin who abandoned her obscure cave to go and place
herself in the hollow of a rock, whence she saw the palace of her
fathers overflowing with riches, pleasures, and delights, while she
herself lamented like a solitary dove in the holes of the rock. From
that time all climates were good for virtue; austerity of morals did
not at all depend on the proximity of the equatorial line; the morality
of man, like man himself, could live in all climates. When the most
perfect continence was practised in so wonderful a manner under the
sky which we have described, the monogamy of Christianity could well
be established and preserved. When, in the secrets of the Eternal,
the time had arrived for calling a people to the light of truth, it
mattered not whether they lived amid the snows of Scandinavia, or on
the burning plains of India. The spirit of the divine laws was not to
be confined within the narrow circle which the _Esprit des Lois_ of
Montesquieu has attempted to assign it.