CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT--EUROPE IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.
Perhaps they who are the most opposed to religious communities may be
reconciled to the solitaries of the East, when they perceive in them a
class of men who, by practising the most sublime and austere counsels
of religion, have communicated a generous impulse to humanity, have
raised it from the dust where Paganism had held it, and made it wing
its flight towards purer regions. To accustom man to grave and strict
morality; to bring back the soul within itself; to give a lively
feeling of the dignity of his nature, of the loftiness of his origin
and his destiny; to inspire him, by means of extraordinary examples,
with confidence that the mind, aided by divine grace, can triumph over
the animal passions, and make man lead an angelic life upon earth:
these are benefits so signal, that a noble heart must show itself
grateful and full of lively interest for the men who have given them
to the world. As to the monasteries of the West, the benefits of their
civilizing influence are so visible, that no man who loves humanity can
regard them with animadversion; in fine, the military orders present
us with an idea so noble, so poetical, and realize in so admirable a
manner one of those golden dreams which cross the human mind in moments
of enthusiasm, that they must certainly find respectful homage in every
heart which beats at a noble and sublime spectacle.
There yet remains a more difficult task, that of presenting at the
tribunal of philosophy--that philosophy so indifferent in religious
matters--the other religious communities which are not comprised in
the sketch which I have just made. Judgments of great severity have
been passed upon those institutions which I have now to speak of; but
in such things justice cannot be prescriptive. Neither the applause
of irreligious men, nor the revolutions which upset all that stand in
their way, can prevent the truth being placed in its true light, and
folly and crime being stigmatized with disgrace.
The thirteenth century has just commenced; there appears a new kind of
men, who, under different titles, denominations, and forms, profess a
singular and extraordinary way of life. Some put on clothing of coarse
cloth; they renounce all wealth and property; they condemn themselves
to perpetual mendicity, spreading themselves over the country and
the towns for the sake of gaining souls for Jesus Christ. Others
bear on their dress the distinctive mark of the redemption of man,
and undertake the mission of releasing from servitude the numberless
captives who, from the misfortune of the times, have fallen into
the hands of the Mussulmen. Some erect the cross in the midst of a
people who eagerly follow them, and they institute a new devotion--a
constant hymn of praise to Jesus and to Mary; at the same time they
indefatigably preach the faith of the Crucified. Others go in search
of all the miseries of man, bury themselves in hospitals, in all the
asylums of misfortune, to succour and console. They all bear new
standards; all show equal contempt for the world; they all form a
portion separate from the rest of mankind; but they resemble neither
the solitaries of the East, nor the sons of St. Bennet. The new monks
arise not in the desert, but in the midst of society: their object is
not to live shut up in monasteries, but to spread themselves over the
fields and hamlets, to penetrate to the heart of the great masses of
the population, and to make their voices heard both in the cottage of
the shepherd and in the palace of the monarch. They increase on all
sides in a prodigious manner. Italy, Germany, France, Spain, England,
receive them; numerous convents arise as if by enchantment in the
villages and towns; the Popes protect them and enrich them with many
privileges; kings grant them the highest favors, and support them in
their enterprises; the people regard them with veneration, and listen
to them with respectful docility. A religious movement appears on all
sides; religious institutions, more or less resembling each other,
arise like the branches from the same trunk. The observer, when he sees
this immense and astonishing picture, asks himself, What are the causes
of so extraordinary a phenomenon? whence this singular movement? what
is its tendency? what will be its effects on society?
When a fact of such high importance is realized all at once in many
different countries, and lasts for centuries, it is a proof that there
existed very powerful means to produce it. It is vain to be entirely
forgetful of the views of Providence: no one can deny that such a fact
must have had its root in the essence of things; consequently it is
useless to declaim against the men and the institutions. Acknowledging
this, the true philosopher will not lose his time in anathematizing the
fact, but he will examine and analyze it. No declamation or invectives
against the monks can efface their history; they have existed for many
centuries, and centuries do not retrace their steps.
We will not inquire if there was here some extraordinary design of
Providence, and we will lay aside the reflections which religion
suggests to every true Catholic; we will confine ourselves to
considering the religious institutions of modern times in a purely
philosophical point of view; we can show that they were not only very
conformable to the well-being of society, but also perfectly adapted to
the situation in which it was placed; we can show that they displayed
neither cunning, malice, nor vile self-interest; that their object was
highly advantageous, and that they were at the same time the expression
and the fulfilment of great social necessities.
The question of its own accord assumes the position in which we have
just regarded it; and it is strange that men have not acknowledged all
the importance of the magnificent points of view which here present
themselves.
In order the better to clear up this important matter, I will enter
upon an examination of the social condition of Europe at the time of
which we speak. As soon as we take the first glance at this epoch, we
observe that, in spite of the intellectual rudeness which one would
imagine must have kept nations in abject silence, there was at the
bottom of men's minds an anxiety which deeply moved and agitated them.
These times are ignorant; but it is an ignorance which is conscious
of itself and which longs for knowledge. There is felt a want of
harmony in the relations and institutions of society; but that want is
everywhere felt and acknowledged, and a continual agitation indicates
that this harmony is anxiously desired and ardently sought for. I know
not what singular character is stamped upon the nations of Europe,
but we do not find there the symptoms of death; they are barbarous,
ignorant, corrupt, any thing you please; but, as if they constantly
heard a voice calling them to light, to civilization, to a new life,
they incessantly labor to leave the fatal condition into which unhappy
circumstances have plunged them. They never sleep in tranquillity amid
the darkness; they never live without remorse amid the corruption of
manners. The echo of virtue continually resounds in their ears; flashes
of light appear in the darkness; a thousand efforts are made to advance
a step in the career of civilization; a thousand times they are vain;
but they are renewed as often as they are repulsed; the generous
attempt is never abandoned; they fail a thousand times; but they never
lose courage. Courage and ardour are never wanting. There is this
remarkable difference between the nations of Europe, and those nations
among whom the Christian religion has not yet penetrated, or from whose
bosom it has been banished. Ancient Greece falls, never to rise again;
the Republics of the shore of Asia disappear, and do not rise out of
their ruins. The ancient civilization of Egypt is broken to pieces by
the conquerors, and posterity has scarcely preserved a remembrance of
them. Certainly none of the nations on the coast of Africa can show us
signs which reveal the ancient country of St. Cyprian, of Tertullian
and St. Augustine. Still more; a considerable portion of Asia has
preserved Christianity, but a Christianity separated from Rome; and
this has been unable to establish or regenerate any thing. Political
power has aided and protected it, but the nation remains feeble; it
cannot stand erect; it is a dead body, incapable of advancing; it is
not like Lazarus, who has just heard the all-powerful voice: "Lazarus,
come forth; _Lazare veni foras_."
This anxiety, this agitation, this extreme eagerness towards a
greater and happier future, this desire for reformation in manners,
for enlargement and correction in ideas, for amelioration in
institutions--the distinctive characteristics of modern nations--made
themselves felt in a fearful manner at the time to which we allude. I
will say nothing of the military history of those times, which would
furnish us with abundant proofs of our assertion; I will confine
myself to facts which, owing to their religious and social character,
have the greatest analogy with the subject which now occupies us. A
formidable energy of mind, a great fund of activity, a simultaneous
development of the most ardent passions, an enterprising spirit, a
lively desire of independence, a decided inclination to employ violent
means, an extraordinary zeal for proselytism, ignorance combined with
a thirst for knowledge, even combined with enthusiasm and fanaticism
for all that bears the name of science; a high esteem for the titles
of nobility, and of illustrious blood, united with the spirit of
democracy, and a profound respect for merit, wherever it may be found;
a childlike candor, an excessive credulity, and, at the same time, the
most obstinate indocility; a tenacious spirit of resistance, fearful
stubbornness, corruption, and licentiousness of manners, allied with
admiration for virtue; a taste for the most austere practices, combined
with an inclination for the most extravagant habits and manners; such
are the traits which history exhibits among these nations.
So singular a mixture appears strange at first sight; and yet nothing
was more natural. Things could not be otherwise: societies are formed
under the influence of certain principles, and of certain particular
circumstances, which impart to them their genius, character, and
countenance. It is the same with society as with individuals;
education, instruction, temperament, and a thousand other physical
and moral circumstances, concur in forming a collection of influences
which produce qualities the most different, and sometimes the most
contradictory. This concurrence of different causes was shown in a
singular and extraordinary manner among the nations of Europe; it
is on this account that we observe there the most extravagant and
discordant effects. Let us recollect the history of those nations since
the fall of the Roman empire to the end of the Crusades; never did an
assemblage of nations present a combination of more varied elements,
and a spectacle of greater events. The moral principles which preside
over the development of these nations were in direct opposition to
their genius and situation. These principles were essentially pure,
unchangeable as the God who had established them; radiant with light,
because they emanated from the source of all light and life: the
nations, on the contrary, were ignorant, rude, fluctuating, like
the waves of the sea, and corrupted, as was to be expected of every
thing which was the result of an impure mixture. Wherefore a terrible
struggle took place between principles and facts; wherefore there were
witnessed the most extraordinary contradictions, according as good and
evil alternately preponderated. Never was the struggle between elements
which could not remain at peace, more clearly seen; the genii of good
and of evil seemed to descend into the arena, and to fight hand to hand.
The nations of Europe were not in their infancy, for they were
surrounded by old institutions. Full of the recollections of ancient
civilization, they preserved various remains of it. They were
themselves produced by the mixture of a hundred nations, differing in
laws, customs, and manners. They were not yet adult nations; as this
denomination cannot be applied either to individuals or to society
before they have reached a certain development, from which the nations
of Europe were still far removed. It is very difficult to find a word
to express this social state; it was neither a state of civilization,
nor that of barbarism; for a number of laws and institutions existed
there, which certainly did not deserve the epithet of barbarous. If we
call these nations semi-barbarous, perhaps we shall approach the truth.
Words are of little importance, if we have a clear idea of the things.
It cannot be denied that the European nations, owing to a long series
of revolutions, and the extraordinary mixture of races, of ideas, and
manners, of the conquerors with each other, and of the conquerors
with the nations conquered, had a large portion of barbarism, and a
fruitful germ of agitation and disorder. But the malignant influence
of these elements was combated by the action of Christianity, which
had obtained a decided preponderance over minds, and which, besides,
was supported by powerful institutions. Christianity, to accomplish
this difficult work, had the assistance of great material force. The
Christian doctrines, which penetrated on all sides, tended, like a
sweetening liquid, to soften and improve every thing; but, at every
step, the mind comes into collision with the senses, morality with
the passions, order with anarchy, charity with ferocity, and law
with fact. Thence a struggle, which, although general to a certain
extent in all times and countries, since it is founded on the nature
of man, was then more rude, violent, and clamorous. The two most
opposite principles, barbarism and Christianity, were then face to
face in the same arena, with no one between them. Observe these
nations with attention, read their history with reflection, and you
will see that those two principles are constantly struggling, and
constantly contending for influence and preponderance; thence the
most strange situations, and the most singular contrasts. Study the
character of the wars of that time, and you will hear the holiest
maxims constantly proclaimed; legitimacy, law, reason, and justice
are invoked; the tribunal of God is incessantly appealed to: this is
the influence of Christianity. But, at the same time, you will be
afflicted at the sight of numberless acts of violence, of cruelties,
atrocities, pillages, rapines, murders, fires, and disasters without
end: this is barbarism. If you look at the Crusades, you will observe
that grand ideas, vast plans, noble inspirations, social and political
views of the highest importance, fermented in men's heads; that all
hearts overflowed with noble and generous feelings, and that a holy
enthusiasm, transporting men out of themselves, rendered them capable
of heroic actions: this is the influence of Christianity. But, if you
examine the execution, you will see disorder, improvidence, want of
discipline in the armies, injuries, and acts of violence; you will
seek in vain for concert and harmony among those who take part in the
gigantic and perilous enterprise: there is barbarism. Youths, thirsting
for knowledge, crowd to the lectures of the famous masters, from the
most distant countries; Italians, Germans, English, Spanish, and
French are mingled and confounded around the chairs of Abelard, Peter
Lombard, Albertus Magnus, and St. Thomas of Aquin; a powerful voice
resounds in their ears, calling them to leave the shades of ignorance
and raise themselves to the regions of science; the love of knowledge
animates them; the longest journeys cannot stop them; the enthusiasm
for illustrious masters is carried to an indescribable extent: behold
the influence of Christianity; behold her constantly stirring and
illuminating the mind of man, never allowing him to repose tranquilly
in obscurity, and continually exciting him to new intellectual labors
and researches after truth! But behold these same youths, who exhibit
such noble dispositions, and inspire such legitimate and consoling
hopes; are they not also those licentious, restless, and turbulent
young men, giving way to the most deplorable acts of violence,
continually fighting in the streets, and forming in the midst of great
cities a small republic, an unruly democracy, where there is much
difficulty in maintaining law and good order? Behold here barbarism!
It is good, it is perfectly conformable to the spirit of religion, that
the guilty man who raises a repentant and humiliated heart to God,
should manifest his feeling and the affliction of his soul by external
acts; that he should labor to fortify his mind, and restrain his evil
inclinations, by employing the rigors of gospel austerity against his
flesh: all this is sovereignly reasonable, just, holy, and conformable
to the maxims of the Christian religion, which thus ordains for the
justification and sanctification of the sinner, to repair the injury
done to the souls of others by the scandal of a bad life. But that
penitents, half naked, should wander about loaded with chains, carrying
horror and alarm everywhere, as happened at this time, when we see
ecclesiastical authority compelled to repress the abuse: this marks the
spirit of rudeness and ferocity which always accompany the state of
barbarism. Nothing is more true, noble, and salutary for society, than
to imagine God always ready to defend innocence, to protect it against
injustice and calumny, and to raise it above humiliation and disgrace,
by restoring to it, sooner or later, the purity and lustre of which
they have attempted to deprive it. This supposition is an effect of
faith in Providence--that faith emanating from Christian ideas, which
represent to us God as embracing the whole world in his view, reaching
with his penetrating eye the deepest recesses of the heart, and not
even excluding the meanest of his creatures from his paternal love. But
who does not perceive the infinite distance which separates this pure
faith from the trials by fire, water, and single combat? Who does not
here discover rudeness confounding all things--the spirit of violence
laboring to subject every thing to a rigorous law--attempting, in some
measure, to oblige God himself to comply with our wants and caprices,
in order to interpose the testimony of his solemn miracles, whenever it
suits our pleasure or convenience to find out the truth?
I introduce these contrasts here in order to awaken the recollections
of those who have read history, and to enable me to establish, in a few
words, the simple and general formula which sums up all those periods:
"Barbarism tempered by religion; religion disfigured by barbarism."
In the study of history we constantly encounter a serious obstacle,
which renders it always difficult, and sometimes impossible, to
understand it perfectly. We make the mistake of referring every thing
to ourselves, and to the objects which surround us--a mistake which
is excusable, no doubt, since it has its root in our own nature,
but against which we must be carefully on our guard, if we wish to
avoid deplorable errors. We imagine the men of other times to be
like ourselves; without thinking of it, we communicate to them our
own ideas, manners, inclinations, and even temperaments; and, after
having fashioned men who exist only in our own imaginations, we desire
and demand that the real men should act in the same manner as these
imaginary men; and at the slightest discord between the historical
facts and our unreasonable suppositions, we cry out that it is strange
and monstrous, taxing with being strange and monstrous what was
perfectly regular and ordinary according to the epoch.
It is the same with respect to laws and institutions: when we do not
find them according to the types which we have under our eyes, we
declaim against the ignorance, iniquity, and cruelty of the men who
have conceived and established them. If we wish to form an exact idea
of an epoch, it is necessary to transport ourselves there--to make an
effort of imagination, in order, as it were, to live and converse with
its men; it is not enough to hear the recital of the events, it is
necessary to witness them, to become one of the spectators, one of the
actors, if possible; it is necessary to call forth generations from
the tomb, and make them act under our eyes. I shall be told that this
is very difficult. I grant it; but it is necessary, if we wish that
our knowledge of history should be something more than a mere notion
of names and dates. It is quite sure that we do not know an individual
well, unless acquainted with his ideas, character, and conduct. It is
the same with a society: if we are ignorant by what doctrines it was
guided, what was its manner of considering and feeling things, we shall
see the events only superficially--we shall know the words of the law,
but we shall not penetrate its spirit or genius; when contemplating
an institution, we shall see only the external frame-work, without
reaching the mechanism, or guessing the moving machinery. If we attempt
to avoid these defects, it is certain that the study of history becomes
the most difficult of all; but this knowledge has been wanting for a
long time. The secrets of man and the mysteries of society are, at the
same time, the most important subject which can be proposed to the
human mind, and the most arduous, the most difficult, and the least
accessible to the generality of intellects.
The individual in the times to which we allude was not the individual
of to-day; his ideas were very different, his manner of seeing and
feeling was not ours, his soul was of quite another temper from our
own; what is inconceivable to us, was perfectly natural to men of those
times; they took pleasure in what is now repugnant to us.
At the beginning of the thirteenth century, Europe had already
experienced the powerful shock of the Crusades; the sciences began
to germinate; the spirit of commerce was in some degree developed;
the taste for industry made itself felt; and the inclination of men
to enter into communication with other men, and of nations to mingle
with other nations, was every day extended and increased. The feudal
system, already shaken, was about to fall to pieces; the power of the
commonalty rapidly increased; the spirit of enfranchisement showed
itself everywhere; in fine, owing to the almost complete abolition of
slavery, and to the change effected by the Crusades in the condition
of vassals and serfs, Europe was covered with a numerous population
who knew not slavery, and who bore with difficulty the feudal yoke.
Yet this population was still far from possessing all that is
necessary to rise to the rank of free citizens. Modern democracy
already offered itself to the view, with its great advantages, its
numerous difficulties, its immense problems, which still embarrass
and disconcert us, after so many centuries of trial and experience.
The lords preserved in great measure their habits of barbarism and
ferocity, by which they had been unfortunately distinguished at
former periods; the royal power was far from having acquired that
force and _prestige_ necessary for ruling such opposite elements,
and to raise itself in the midst of society as a symbol of respect
for all interests--a centre of reunion for all forces, and a sublime
personification of reason and justice.
In the same century, wars began to assume a character more popular,
and consequently more vast and important; the agitations of the people
began to wear the aspect of political commotions. Already we discover
something more than the ambition of emperors attempting to impose their
yoke on Italy; we have no longer petty kings who contend for a crown
or a province, or counts or barons who, followed by their serfs, fight
with each other or with the neighboring municipalities, covering the
land with blood and rapine. We observe in the movements of that period
something more important and alarming. Numerous nations arise and crowd
around a banner on which, instead of the ensigns of a baron or of a
monarch, appears the name of a system of doctrines. No doubt, the lords
take part in the struggle, and their power raises them still far above
the crowd which surrounds and follows them; but the cause in question
is not that of these men; they are accounted something in the problems
of the times; but mankind looks beyond the horizon of castles. This
agitation and movement, produced by the appearance of new religious and
social doctrines, is the announcement and the beginning of that chain
of revolutions which Europe has to undergo.
The evil did not consist in the disposition of nations to carry out
their ideas, and refuse to take as their only guide the interests and
doctrines of a few tyrants. On the contrary, this was a great step
gained in the path of civilization; men thus showed that they felt and
understood their own dignity better, that they took a more extended
view, and had a better understanding of their own situation and
interests. This progress was the natural result of the higher flight
which was every day taken by the faculties of the mind. The Crusades
had greatly contributed to this new movement; from that great epoch
the different nations of Europe were accustomed no longer to fight for
the possession of a small territory, or to gratify private ambition or
revenge. The nations fought in support of a principle by laboring to
avenge the outrage offered to the true religion; in a word, they became
accustomed to be moved, to contend, to die, for an idea which, far from
being limited to a small territory, embraced heaven and earth. Thus,
we will observe in passing, that the popular movement, the movement in
ideas, began in Spain much sooner than in the rest of Europe, because
the war against the Moors had advanced the period of the Crusades for
that country. The evil, I repeat it, was not in the interest which
the people took in ideas, but in the imminent danger of seeing those
nations, on account of their rudeness and ignorance, allow themselves
to be abused and deceived by the first fanatic who came. At a moment
when the movement was so vast, the fate of Europe depended on the
direction which was about to be given to the universal activity: unless
I am deceived, the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were the critical
epochs, when, in the face of great probabilities on both sides, there
was decided the great question of knowing whether Europe, in its
twofold social and political relations, was to take advantage of the
benefits of Christianity, or permit all the promise of a better future
to be lost and annihilated.
When we fix our eyes on this period, we find, in different parts of
Europe, a certain germ and index of the greatest disasters; the most
horrible doctrines arise among the masses who begin to be agitated; the
most fearful disorders signalize the first step of these nations in the
career of life. Before this, we have discovered only kings and lords,
but now the people appear on the scene. Thus we see that some rays of
light and heat have penetrated this shapeless mass. At this sight the
heart is dilated and encouraged, presaging the new future which is
reserved for humanity. But, at the same time, the observer is alarmed,
for he is aware that this heat may produce excessive fermentation,
engender corruption, and multiply impure insects in the field which
promises soon to become an enchanting garden.
The extravagances of the human mind at this time appear under so
alarming an aspect, and with a turbulence of character so fearful, that
apprehensions apparently the most exaggerated are supported by facts,
and become terrible probabilities. Let me recall some of those facts
which so vividly paint the condition of minds at that time; facts which
besides are connected with the principal point which we are examining.
At the beginning of the twelfth century, we find the famous Tanchème,
or Tanquelin, teaching the maddest theories and committing the greatest
crimes; yet at Antwerp, in Zealand, in the country of Utrecht, and in
many other towns in the same countries, he draws after him a numerous
crowd. This wretched man advanced that he was more worthy of supreme
worship than Jesus Christ himself, "for," said he, "if Jesus Christ
had received the Holy Spirit, he (Tanchème) had received the plenitude
of that Holy Spirit." He added that the whole Church was comprised in
his own person and in his disciples. The pontificate, episcopate, and
priesthood were, according to him, mere chimeras. His instructions
and discourses were particularly addressed to women; the result of
his doctrines and proceedings was the most revolting corruption. Yet
the fanaticism which was excited by this abominable man went so
far that the sick eagerly drank the water in which he had bathed,
believing it to be the most salutary remedy for body and soul. Women
thought themselves happy to have obtained the favors of the monster;
mothers considered it an honor for their daughters to be selected as
the victims of his profligacy, and husbands were offended when their
wives were not stained with this disgrace. Tanchème, knowing all the
ascendency which he was able to exert over minds, was not backward in
making use of the fanaticism of his followers; one of the principal
virtues with which he labored to inspire them was liberality in favor
of his own interest.
One day when he was surrounded with a large concourse of people, he
had a picture of the Virgin brought to him; touching it with his
sacrilegious hand, he said that he took the Virgin as his wife. Then,
turning toward the spectators, he added, that as he had contracted
marriage with the Queen of Heaven, as they had just seen, it was their
duty to make the wedding presents. He immediately placed two boxes, one
on the right and the other on the left of the picture, to receive on
one side the offerings of the men, and on the other those of the women;
for the purpose of learning, as he said, which of the two sexes had the
greater affection for him. This artifice, as low and gross as it was
sacrilegious, seemed only calculated to excite the indignation of those
who were present; yet the results corresponded with the expectations
of the artful impostor. The women, always jealous of the affection of
Tanchème, surpassed in liberality; in a perfect frenzy, they stripped
themselves of their necklaces, golden rings, and most precious jewels.
When he felt himself strong enough, Tanchème did not content himself
with preaching; he was desirous of surrounding himself with an armed
troop, in order to give him in the eyes of the world a far different
appearance from that of an apostle. Three thousand men accompanied
him everywhere. Surrounded by this respectable escort, clothed in
magnificent apparel, and preceded by his standard, he moved with all
the pomp of a king. When he stopped to preach, the three thousand
satellites stood armed around him with drawn swords. It is evident,
the aggressive character of the heretical sects of succeeding ages was
already traced out.
Every one knows how numerous were the partisans of Eon. This unhappy
man was excited by hearing the frequent repetition of the words: "Per
eum qui judicaturus est vivos et mortuos:" and he became persuaded
and he asserted, that he himself was the judge who was to judge the
living and the dead. We are also aware of the troubles excited by the
seditious speeches of Arnauld of Brescia, the iconoclastic fanaticism
of Pierre de Bruis and Henri. If I did not fear to fatigue the
attention of my readers, it would be easy for me to relate here the
most revolting scenes which represent to the life the spirit of the
sects of those times, and the unfortunate predisposition which led
men's minds to novelty, to extravagant spectacles, and I know not what
fatal giddiness, whereby they were precipitated into the most strange
errors and the most deplorable excesses. At all events, I must say a
few words of the Cathari, Vaudois, Paterins of Arras, Albigenses, and
poor men of Lyons. These sects, besides the influence which they had
on the times of which we speak and on the later events of European
history, will be of great use in making us fathom more deeply the
question now before us. From the first ages of the Church, the sect
of the Manichees was remarkable for errors and extravagances. Under
different names, with more or less of followers, and with doctrines
more or less various, it continued from age to age until the eleventh
century, when it excited disturbances in France. From that time,
Heribert and Lisoy acquired an unhappy celebrity by their obstinacy and
fanaticism. In the time of St. Bernard, the sects called apostolical
were distinguished by their dislike to marriage; while, on the other
hand, they gave themselves up to the basest and most unbridled
licentiousness. Nevertheless, all these irregularities were favorably
received by the ignorance or the corruption of the people. This is
proved by the rapidity with which they gained the masses and spread
like a pestilence wherever they appeared. Besides the hypocrisy, which
is common to all the sects, that of the Manichees imagined an artifice
the most apt to seduce rude and ignorant people: they appeared with
the most rigid austerity and the most miserable clothes. Before the
year 1181, we see the Manichees bold enough to venture out of their
conventicles and openly teach their doctrines in the light of day. They
associated with the celebrated bandits called _Cottereaux_, and feared
not to commit all sorts of excesses, as they had seduced some knights
and had secured the protection of some seigneurs of the country of
Toulouse; they succeeded in exciting a formidable insurrection, which
could be repressed only by force of arms. An eye-witness, Stephen,
Abbot of St. Genevieve, at that time sent to Toulouse by the king,
describes to us in a few words the acts of violence committed by these
sectaries: "I have seen on all sides," he says, "churches burnt and
ruined to their foundations: I have seen the dwellings of men changed
into the dens of beasts."
About the same time, the Vaudois, or poor men of Lyons, became famous.
This last name was given to them on account of their extreme poverty,
their contempt for all riches, and the rags with which they were
covered. Their shoes also gave them the name of Sabatathes. They
were perverse imitators of another kind of poor, celebrated at that
time, and who were distinguished by their virtues, and particularly
by their spirit of humility and disinterestedness. These latter, who
formed a kind of association, comprising priests and laymen, attracted
the respect and esteem of real Christians, and obtained the Pope's
permission to teach publicly. The disciples showed a profound contempt
for Church authority; they afterwards entertained monstrous errors, and
in the end became a sect in opposition to religion, injurious to good
morals, and incompatible with public tranquillity.
These errors, which were the germs of so many calamities and troubles,
could not be extirpated; with time they became more and more rooted in
various countries, and the progress of things was so fatal, that at the
beginning of the thirteenth century the period of short-lived seditions
and isolated troubles was already long gone by, the errors had already
spread on a large scale, and appeared with formidable resources for the
contest. Already the south of France, agitated by civil discord, and
precipitated into a fearful war, was in a state of terrible conflict.
In the political organization of that time, the throne had not strength
enough to exercise a controlling power, the lords had still the means
of resisting kings and doing violence to the people. When a spirit of
disobedience, agitation, and movement is spread throughout the masses,
there is only one means of restraining them, that of religion; and this
very ascendency of religious ideas was taken advantage of by the wicked
and the fanatical; and to mislead the multitude they availed themselves
of violent declamation, where religion and politics formed a confused
mixture, and where the spirit of austerity and disinterestedness was
the subject of hypocritical affectation. The new errors were no longer
confined to subtile attacks on particular dogmas, they assailed the
fundamental ideas of religion, penetrated to the sanctuary of the
family, on the one side condemning marriage, and on the other promoting
infamous abominations: in fine, the evil was not limited to countries
which by a tardy and incomplete initiation into the doctrines of
Christianity, or for any other reason, had not fully participated in
the European movement. The arena principally chosen was the south; that
is, the country where the human mind was developed in the most prompt
and lively manner.
In the midst of such a concourse of unfortunate circumstances, all
attested and placed beyond a doubt by history, was not the future of
Europe very dark and tempestuous? Ideas and manners were in imminent
danger of taking a wrong direction; the bands of authority, the ties of
family, seemed ready to break asunder; the nations might be led away
by fanaticism or superstition; Europe was in danger of being replunged
into the chaos whence it had emerged with so much difficulty. At that
time the Crescent shone in Spain, it reigned in Africa, it triumphed
in Asia. Was Europe at such a moment to lose her religious unity, and
see new errors penetrate everywhere, sowing schism in all countries,
and with it discord and war? Were all the elements of civilization and
refinement created by Christianity to be dispersed and stricken with
sterility for ever? Were the great nations formed under the influence
of Catholicity, the laws and institutions impregnated with that divine
religion, to be corrupted, falsified, and destroyed by changes in the
ancient faith? In fine, was the course of European civilization to be
violently diverted, and were the nations who were already advancing
towards a peaceful, prosperous, and glorious future, to be condemned to
see their most flattering hopes dissipated in a moment, and miserably
to retrograde towards barbarism? Such was then the vast problem placed
before society; and I fear not to assert that the religious movement
which at that time displayed itself in so extraordinary a manner, and
the new religious institutions, so inconsiderately accused of folly
and extravagance, were a powerful means employed by Providence to
save religion and society. If the illustrious Spaniard, St. Dominic
de Guzman, and the wonderful man of Assisi, did not occupy a place
on our altars, there to receive the veneration of the faithful for
their eminent sanctity, they would deserve to have statues raised
to them by the gratitude of society and humanity. But what! are our
words an object of scandal to you, who have only read and considered
history through the deceitful medium of Protestant and philosophical
prejudices? Tell us, then, what you find reprehensible in these men,
whose establishments have been the subject of your endless diatribes,
as if they had been the greatest calamities of the human race? Their
doctrines are those of the Gospel; they are the same doctrines, to the
loftiness and sanctity whereof you have been compelled to render solemn
homage, and their lives are pure, holy, heroic, and conformable in
every thing to their teachings. Ask them what is the object they have
in view; that of preaching the Catholic truth to all men, they will
tell you; of making every effort, of exerting every energy to destroy
error and reform morals; of inspiring nations with the respect which is
due to all legitimate authorities, civil and ecclesiastical. That is to
say, you will find among them a firm resolution to devote their lives
to remedy the evils of Church and State.
They do not content themselves with barren wishes; they are not
satisfied with a few discourses and transitory efforts; they do not
confine their plans to their mere personal sphere, but, extending
their views to all countries and future times, they found institutions
whereof the members may spread themselves over the whole surface of
the world, and transmit to future generations the apostolical spirit
which has inspired them with their grand ideas. The poverty to which
they condemn themselves is extreme; the dress they wear is rude and
miserable; but do you not see the profound reasons for this conduct?
Remember that they propose to renew the gospel spirit, so much
forgotten in their time; that they frequently happen to meet face to
face the emissaries of the corrupt sects, who, endeavoring to imitate
Christian humility, and affecting an absolute disinterestedness, make
a parade of presenting themselves in public in the garb of beggars;
remember, in fine, that they go to preach to semi-barbarous nations,
and that to preserve them from the giddiness of error which has
begun to take possession of their heads, words are not enough, even
accompanied by a regular and uniform conduct; extraordinary examples,
a mode of life which bears with it the most powerful edification, and
sanctity clothed with an exterior adapted to make a lively impression
on the imagination, are required.
The number of the new religious is very considerable; they increase
without measure in all the countries where they are established;
they are found, not only in the country and in the hamlets, but they
penetrate into the midst of the most populous cities. Observe, that
Europe is no longer composed of a collection of small towns and
wretched cottages erected round feudal castles, and humbly obedient
to the authority or the influence of a proud baron; Europe no longer
consists of villages grouped round rich abbeys, listening with docility
to the instructions of the monks, and receiving with gratitude the
benefits conferred on them. A great number of vassals have already
thrown off the yoke of their lords; powerful municipalities arise
on all sides, and in their presence the feudal system is frequently
compelled to humble itself in alarm. Towns become every day more
populous--every day, from the effects of the emancipation which takes
place in the country, they receive new families. Reviving industry
and commerce display new means of subsistence, and excite an increase
of population. It results from all this that religion and morality
must act upon the nations of Europe on a larger scale; more general
means, issuing from a common centre, and freed from ordinary fetters,
are necessary to satisfy the new necessities of the time. Such are
the religious institutions of the time of which we speak; this is the
explanation of their astonishing number, of their numerous privileges,
and of that remarkable regulation which places them under the immediate
control of the Pope.
Even the character which marked these institutions--a character in
some degree democratic, not only because men of all classes are
there united, but also because of the special organization of their
government--was eminently calculated to give efficacy to their
influence over a democracy, fierce, turbulent, and proud of its recent
liberty, and consequently little disposed to sympathize with any thing
which might have been presented to it under aristocratic or exclusive
forms. This democracy found in these new religious institutions a
certain analogy with its own existence and origin. These men come from
the people, they live in constant communication with them, and, like
them, they are poor and meanly clad; and as the people have their
assemblies where they choose their municipal officers and bailiffs,
so do the religious hold their chapters, where they name their priors
and provincials. They are not anchorites living in remote deserts, nor
monks sheltered in rich abbeys, nor clergy whose functions and duties
are confined to any particular country. They are men without fixed
abodes, and who are found sometimes in populous cities and sometimes in
miserable hamlets--to-day in the midst of the old continent, to-morrow
on a vessel which bears them to perilous missions in the remotest
countries of the globe; sometimes they are seen in the palaces of
kings, enlightening their councils, and taking part in the highest
affairs of state; sometimes in the dwellings of obscure families,
consoling them in misfortune, making up their quarrels, and giving them
advice on their domestic affairs. These same men, who are covered with
glory in the chairs of the universities, teach catechism to children
in the humblest boroughs; illustrious orators who have preached in
courts, before kings and great men, go to explain the Gospel in obscure
villages. The people find them everywhere, meet them at every step, in
joy and in sorrow; these men are constantly ready to take part in the
happy festivities of a baptism which fills the house with joy, or to
lament a misfortune which has just covered it with mourning.
We can imagine without difficulty the force and ascendency of such
institutions. This influence on the minds of nations must have been
incalculable; the new sects which tended to mislead the multitude
by their pestilential doctrines, found themselves face to face with
an adversary who completely conquered them. They wished to seduce
the simple by the ostentation of great austerity and wonderful
disinterestedness; they desired to deceive the imagination, by striking
it with the sight of exterior mortification, of poor and mean clothing.
The new institutions united these qualities in an extraordinary
manner. Thus the true doctrine had the same attributes which error
had assumed. From among the classes of the people there come forth
violent declaimers, who captivate the attention and take possession of
the minds of the multitude by fiery eloquence. In all parts of Europe
we meet with burning orators, pleading the cause of truth, who, well
versed in the passions, ideas, and tastes of the multitude, know how to
interest, move, and direct them, making use, in defence of religion, of
what others attempt to avail themselves of in attacking her. They are
found wheresoever they are wanted to combat the efforts of sects. Free
from all worldly ties, and belonging to no particular church, province,
or kingdom, they have all the means of passing rapidly from one place
to another, and are found at the proper time wherever their presence is
urgently required.
The strength of association, known to the sectaries, and used by them
with so much success, is found in a remarkable degree in these new
religious institutions. The individual has no will of his own: a vow
of perpetual obedience has placed him at the disposal of another's
will; and this latter is in his turn subject to a third; thus there is
formed a chain, whereof the first link is in the hands of the Pope;
the strength of association, and that of unity, are thus united in
authority. There is all the motion, all the warmth of a democracy; all
the vigor, all the promptitude of monarchy.
It has been said that these institutions were a powerful support to
the authority of the Popes; this is certain: we may even add, that if
these institutions had not existed, the fatal schism of Luther would
perhaps have taken place centuries earlier. But, on the other hand,
we must allow that the establishment of them was not due to projects
of the papacy; the Sovereign Pontiffs did not conceive the idea of
them; isolated individuals, guided by superior inspiration, formed the
design, traced out the plan, and submitting that plan to the judgment
of the Holy See, asked for authority to realize their enterprise.
Civil institutions, intended to consolidate and aggrandize the power
of kings, emanate sometimes from monarchs themselves, sometimes from
some of their ministers, who, identifying themselves with their views
and interests, have formed and executed the idea of the throne. It is
not thus with the power of the Popes; the support of new institutions
contributes to sustain that power against the attacks of dissenting
sects; but the idea of founding the institutions themselves comes
neither from the Popes nor their ministers. Unknown men suddenly arise
among the people; nothing which has taken place affords reason to
suspect them of having any previous understanding with Rome; their
entire lives attest that they have acted by virtue of inspiration,
communicated to themselves, an inspiration which does not allow them
any repose, until they have executed what was prescribed to them. There
are not, there cannot be, any private designs of Rome; ambition has
no share. From this, all sensible men should draw one of these two
consequences: either the appearance of these new institutions was the
work of God, who was desirous of saving His Church by sustaining her
against new attacks, and protecting the authority of the Roman Pontiff;
or, Catholicity herself contained within her breast a saving instinct
which led her to create these institutions, which were required to
enable her to come triumphant out of the fearful crisis in which she
was engaged. To Catholics, these two propositions are identical: in
both we see only the fulfilment of the promise, "_On this rock I will
build my Church, and the gates of hell shall never prevail against
her._" Philosophers who do not regard things by the light of faith,
in order to explain this phenomenon, may make use of what terms they
please; but they will be compelled to acknowledge that wonderful wisdom
and the highest degree of foresight appear at the bottom of these
facts. If they persist in not acknowledging the finger of God, and in
seeing in the course of events only the fruit of well-concerted plans,
or the result of organization combined with art, at least they cannot
refuse a sort of homage to these plans and that organization. Indeed,
as they confess that the power of the Roman Pontiff, considered in
relations merely philosophical, is the most wonderful of all the powers
which have appeared on earth, is it not evident that the society called
the Catholic Church shows in her conduct, in the spirit of life which
animates her, and in the instinct which makes her resist her greatest
enemies, the most incomprehensible combination of phenomena which have
ever been witnessed in society? It is of little importance to the
truth, whether you call this instinct, mystery, spirit, or whatever
name you please. Catholicity defies all societies, all sects, and all
schools, to realize what she has realized, to triumph over what she
has triumphed over, and to pass through, without perishing, the crises
through which she has passed. A few examples, where the work of God was
more or less imitated, may be alleged against us; but the magicians
of Egypt, placed in the presence of Moses, came to an end of their
artifices; the envoy of God performed wonders which they could not; and
they were compelled to exclaim, "_The finger of God is here--the finger
of God is here!_"