"Our civilisation is not very deep, Monsieur," he said. "There is always

a large inert mass of humanity untouched by the movement of thought.

From them we may expect a new religion, a new morality. We have denied

and disproved, as you say, so many things, that at last we shall come to

the sole reality. We have rendered man's personality vague and

mysterious, until it seems scarcely to exist except as a point of

development; we must seek deeper for his reality. And in any case,

Monsieur, you overrate the value of reason. In my charming walk through

life I had sufficient experience to learn that man is not entirely a

creature of reason. There are few people without a conscience. The fault

of this age is not so much that it is scientific, as that it is

mechanical and removed from the contemplation of Nature."

"I have sometimes thought," said Leo, "that the principal hope for

religion lies in the fact that the lower classes do not think."

"It is true," said Renan; "religion is some hidden consciousness working

toward unknown ends. Mankind is not entirely reasonable; it has a

conscience. We can no more say that this conscience is an artificial

product of society, than we can say that reason is an artificial product

also. The curiosity which is so amusing a feature of the intelligence of

cats and monkeys is an earlier stage of the scientific curiosity; and,

on the other hand, animals have shown gratitude to their masters, and

thus the rudiments of virtue. Man, in recognising his conscience, has

developed the abstract virtues of justice, of pity, of unselfishness; it

does not affect the main question that his choice between virtue and

vice should not be entirely free, nor that the distinction between them

should not be always clear. We do not reproach science because it has

not yet shown us what course our sun and its train of planets are taking

in their journey toward a star in Hercules, nor because it has been

unable, by its study of the rapidity and direction of other solar

systems, to give to them an approximate fixity in connection with

ourselves, to draw what would really be a map of the heavens.

"Oh, Monsieur, man is a naturally moral being, just as he is a naturally

curious and scientific being. To him both curiosity and morality are

natural needs, and because they are needs they are truths. It is

impossible to consider a world which does not act according to a law of

virtue, just as it is impossible to consider a world which does not act

in accordance with the law of gravitation, or, better still, as an

example, a species which has not developed in accordance with the law of

evolution; and just as the scientist finds behind all the fleeting

appearances and phenomena of the world a basis in matter, so, behind all

the phenomena and fleeting appearances of virtue we find a basis in God,

And just as an individual is governed by his conscience in regulating

his actions, so humanity as a whole regulates its actions by an appeal

to some abstract idea of right. Such dramatic crises as the Revolution,

and the establishment of the Roman Empire, seem equally the result of a

certain slow consciousness working toward perfection; or take the growth

of Christianity, which began obscurely and with a literally subterranean

movement, is it not an instance of this blind working toward the light.

One cannot outrage the collective conscience of mankind with impunity. A

sudden outburst of popular resentment like the Revolution, which had

been incubating for at least a century, cannot be considered as a mere

caprice; can, indeed, only be considered as a revelation of justice.

Such outbursts have a purely negative effect upon human progress;

progress is the development of a new spirit, not the destruction of an

old constitution."

"You offer no constructive policy, beyond the creation of a new spirit.

Socialism, at least, pretends to one."

"Socialism is a reactionary force," answered Renan; "and all reactions

are bound to be more constructive than a progressive force. Their

natural tendency, as I have already said, is to crystallise in a

definite form. The spirit of progress is, on the contrary, an intangible

if all-pervading thing. It develops spontaneously in a thousand ways,

and as it pushes towards the unknown it is impossible for us to predict

with any certainty what forms it may assume. Being purely experience,

and not a creed, it is liable to be extensively modified or even

completely changed by some unforeseen development in any of its parts; a

discovery in any branch of science may react upon all, as the progress

of palæontology reacted upon history. That is the reason progress seems

always to be a purely destructive force. It is only after it has

escaped, through imperceptible degrees, into a more or less clearly

defined new phase, that we can gauge its value as a constructive force

in the last."

"I see with you, Monsieur, the value of democracy and individual

liberty," said Leo. "Oh, I am reasonable. The character of a pope is to

be found less in the official acts of his reign, than in the temper

which he fosters in the Church. The nature of his office compels him to

claim the privileges and exemptions which his predecessors claimed. He

resigns nothing; but he allows some of his claims to remain in abeyance,

refusing to deprive his successors of a power, which, either for reasons

of expediency, or through personal dislike, he declines to exercise

himself. I came to the chair of Peter under disadvantageous

circumstances. The Papal States had been lost, and in exchange the

doctrine of a vague empire over spiritual things had been proclaimed.

Infallibility was no new thing; but the enunciation of it as an article

of faith crystallised a power which would have been of more value, if it

had been left indeterminate. I won back much that Pius had lost. I made

no use of the instruments which he had forged; I discouraged, rather

than condemned, the liberal movements within the Church; my policy was

one of insinuation, and, by skilfully leaving certain positions

undefended, I gained that they should not be assailed. Alas, Monsieur!

you smile at this panegyric of myself; but I have left no one behind who

would consider it an honourable office to praise me. The encyclical on

biblical studies, and the biblical commission, were perhaps my two

mistakes. The glorification of scholasticism was perhaps a mistake; but

I rather think it diverted the attention of my flock. However these

things may appear in the eyes of the world, my reign was wise,

temperate, and resulted in a great increase of power. I recognised

democracy and republican principles. I attempted to win the people. I

was defeated by the extremists on mine own side."

"An epitaph, Monsieur, not only on yourself, but on your office."

"Perhaps," answered Leo. "We do not know. The dead know so little of

what is taking place on Earth."

"On the contrary," said Renan, "voyagers from the Earth are constantly

arriving, and we are kept well advised."

"I can imagine a moderately successful issue to my policy if my

successor should be a man of tact. Even if institutions be only the

monuments of an idea, men must build them; and, in spite of your

argument, I think a period of authority, at least of a more correct

balance between authority and liberty, is setting in. I have still hoped

for the papacy. Comtism, some one said, was Catholicism with

Christianity left out. The qualifying clause is perhaps unnecessary.

Comtism, socialism, internationalism, are all 'Catholic' ideas. To the

Church the name of a nation is merely a geographical expression, it

knows no frontiers, no distinctions of race or language, it has no

preference for any form of government, being superior to all. The Latin

language is for it, a universal tongue, which no sane person could

consider inferior to Volapuk or Esperanto. The Church, properly

constituted, might draw into itself a great deal of this floating

idealism. We might approximate our ideals. You would say, Monsieur, that

we were all equally reactionary."

"All synthetic ideas are," said Renan. "Anarchism is in its essence more

truly progressive than socialism, because it is for the individual.

Socialism implies either that all men are made after the same pattern,

that in certain circumstances they will act in a certain manner, or that

external influences, education, and environment, will turn out a uniform

model. It is an error. If education were all-important, the Church would

not have lost ground consistently in Catholic Europe, where the Jesuits

have had practically the whole of education in their hands for two

centuries. If such a machine as the society has failed, though it was

backed by the State, and spoke with a quasi-spiritual authority, one

cannot imagine a State department succeeding. Liberty is the condition

of development, and education develops, it does not create."

"It is important, however, to control the means of development,"

answered Leo. "Of course our education would be modern."

"Monsieur, you spoke of an encyclical on biblical studies."

Renan's voice was seductive; Leo made a gesture of impatience.

"It was a mistake," he said quickly. "At certain moments the heads of

any organisation are liable to be driven into a false position by their

extreme supporters. My policy was to let things take their course; to

assimilate what we could of the new spirit, and let the rest die without

noise. My condemnation of Americanism was unobtrusive, and I did not

condemn the French Liberal priests who were busy with biblical exegesis,

because I saw that attacks on dogma do not interest the mass of people;

nine Catholics out of ten do not know what they believe in: and if your

methods of criticism, Monsieur Renan, had not been advertised by so many

fanatics, you would have been read almost entirely for the sake of your

style. There is a little man in France now, a little man with the smile

and features of Voltaire, whose criticism has rendered the work of all

those tedious Germans, and your own, quite obsolete. Our good

Ultramontanes wished to persecute him into popularity, and to advertise

him by excommunication. They told me he was a heretic. Of course he was.

All the Fathers of the Church were heretics. St Paul was a heretic. So

was St Augustine. So was St Francis. So were Lamennais, Lacordaire, and

Newman. But it is a pity that the world should know it. St Paul's

heterodoxy laid the foundations of the Church. St Augustine's

heterodoxy, that the sacred writings were not to be taken literally,

built it up. St Francis's heterodoxy staved off the Reformation for

three centuries. Lamennais and Lacordaire in France, Newman in England,

infused new life into our veins. Let us point to the names of our sons

and not to their works."

A subtle enjoyment illuminated Renan's face.

"Monsieur, you were always an enigma to me."

"It is simple," said Leo; "the impregnable rock upon which we build is

simply the impregnable ignorance of the majority. Do you think that

science can alter or influence the emotions of the plain man? It does

not touch him. He prefers to accept blindly a creed which he does not

understand in order that he may devote himself to the business and

pleasures of life. He has no time to pause, to question, to criticise,

to select. He aims at euthanasia. His doubts, such as he has, are almost

entirely subconscious; and for the sake of his own peace of mind he will

attempt to stifle them if they lift their heads. The number of men who

can look on life, the whole of life, with a tranquil mind is extremely

small; and even these have their moments of failure, weakness, and

spiritual lassitude, moments in which life seems a hideous nightmare, in

which the individual, grown morbidly conscious of his own being, sees it

as no more than an infinitesimal point in the great waste of time and

space, the great darkness of eternity, wherein all the worlds at present

existing are no more than a shower of sparks.

"Man, that creature of incredible vanity and innumerable petty egoisms,

refuses to consider for very long the melancholy spectacle of a world

hastening merely towards its death, and carrying with it his whole store

of spiritual experience, of poems and philosophies, theologics and

sciences, which his forefathers have created, and his descendants shall

renew. Therefore, when I considered the future of religion as an

indispensable condition of life, and when I imagined further a kind of

alliance between the proletariate and mine own Church, I based my

calculations principally upon the feet that the great majority of men do

not think; indeed, that they refuse to think.

"Creeds may pass away, but the individuality of man changes, if at all,

only by imperceptible degrees. Ages of faith and ages of scepticism

recur, and give place to each other, with almost the same regularity as

the ebb and flow of a tide. The age of Pericles was sceptical, the age

of Cæsar was sceptical, the ages of Leo X. and Louis XV. were sceptical;

but from age to age the peasant has sate by the fire after his day's

work, dreaming the same dreams, and hearing nothing of the world's

doubt. He is much the same kind of pagan as he always was. He has seized

upon, in a way we cannot understand, the primitive, elementary

conditions, which subsist in all religions. You were right, Monsieur, in

tracing religion to him. He is its source. Perhaps he has never accepted

Christianity; but Christianity has accepted him. Laborious, innocent,

stupid, scarcely more human than the cattle, who are literally his

foster-brothers, he looks out upon his little world with patient eyes,

wondering; and he brings us the fruits of the earth and the bread of

life."

"I have said with Voltaire," murmured Renan, "that if a God did not

exist we should have to invent one."

Once again a deep, ironic smile creased about Leo's jaws.

"You were perhaps right, Monsieur," he said; "but we should prefer not

to tax your ingenuity. The gods invented by science are always afar off;

or they sleep, perchance; or they are concerned with their own affairs;

in any case they do not hear us when we call to them. I consider our

Church capable of a larger growth if it will only remain silent on the

question of dogma, which should be left like seed to grow and quicken in

the earth. Time will obtain for any dogma a certain measure of tacit

acceptance, because truth to the majority is merely something which has

been said over and over again. Besides the psychological basis of my

calculations, the fact that the majority do not think, there is the

political basis. This has entered into a new phase. In the Middle Ages

the Church was allied with the State against the people. Its dogmas were

enforced by the secular arm. Innocent III. was a kind of suzerain over

the princes of Europe. But even here, already, the Church knew upon

occasion to ally herself with the people, and threaten a king through

his own subjects, by releasing a nation from its allegiance, and

troubling its internal peace by an interdict.

"Since my predecessor, the Church has definitely adopted this policy;

but with a more subtile and insinuating method. Infallibility relates

not only to matters of dogma, but to matters of State, _quoad mores_ as

well as _quoad fidem_. You will remember, Monsieur, that Antonelli

addressed a despatch to the Nuncio at Paris, in which he says: 'The

Church has never intended, nor now intends, to exercise any direct and

absolute power over the political rights of the State. Having received

from God the lofty mission of guiding men, whether individually or as

congregated in society, to a supernatural end, she has by that very fact

the authority and the duty to judge concerning the morality and justice

of all acts, internal and external, in relation to their conformity with

the natural and divine law. And as no action, whether it be ordained by

a supreme power, or be freely elicited by an individual, can be exempt

from this character of morality and justice, it so happens that the

judgment of the Church, though falling directly on the moral of the

acts, indirectly reaches over everything with which that morality is

conjoined. But this is not the same thing as to interfere directly in

political affairs.' That direct interference we must avoid."

Renan seemed to hesitate before he spoke.

"It may be," he answered, "as you say, that mankind does not progress,

but merely revolves. Sometimes I have thought so. But nothing is

repeated in precisely the same way. Neither an individual, nor a

society, is what it imagines itself to be, in its action upon the world.

The Church, as it is considered by its adherents, is something totally

different from the Church as it seems to its directors. Every

individual, and every age, examines the gospels in a different light and

from a different standpoint, just as they examine the movement of the

planets, the structure of the earth, the conception of kingship, of the

State, even of that most immediate object the body. The life of St

Francis seems to spring quite naturally out of the mediæval world, with

its crude cosmogony, its notion of the universe as a huge mechanical toy

in the hands of God. To such people the story of Joshua commanding the

sun was not childish; miracles quite as wonderful were part of their

daily lives; and the world for them acted not according to fixed

immutable laws, but by the direct interposition of a Providence

susceptible to the prayers of man. To us it is different. We cannot

imagine a St Francis appearing in the modern world. The Church, Your

Holiness, cannot control the new movement, which will either transform

or destroy it; but in what will you suffer it to be transformed?

"The evil of infallibility is that it cannot retract, or confess to

error. The Pope has been endowed with this fatal gift of infallibility,

a personal charisma, and through it he has become an incarnation of the

Divine Wisdom, even as the Dalai Lama becomes an incarnation of the

Buddha. To the historian, the heretical Pope Honorius, condemned equally

by Councils, and by his successors, is sufficient to disprove your

claims. But the Church can triumph over facts of history. What it cannot

triumph over is the spirit of the age. You have a large body of

adherents, who describe themselves as Catholic without knowing what the

term implies. You have a smaller, body, whose principal business in life

seems to lie in reconciling, by innumerable sophistries and subterfuges,

your dogmas with the modern world. The smallest body of all is made up

of those of your adherents, who accept you as the sole fount of truth.

But in each of these three sections there is not a solitary individual

who accepts your teaching without colouring it with his own ideas. Each

will explain a dogma from the point of view of his own prejudices, and

only accepts it with a kind of mental reservation. Of course it always

has been so. Your peril lies in the rapid exchange of ideas which

characterises modern life, the ease of communication, and the lack of

any effective machinery for preventing their diffusion. The moment any

crisis arises you cease to act as a solid body; and the action of your

leaders has far less influence upon public opinion than the action of

your laity excusing, or justifying, or explaining, the multitudinous

diversities which exist among you. If this lay action be not public, it

is the more insidious. I have noticed that when any important

pronouncement is published from the chair of Peter, your lay apologists

make no sign. There is an ominous silence. All are disenchanted. All are

suspect. They seem to turn away, silent and troubled, from what they

imagined to be the ultimate authority, and seek for their justification

at the tribunal of their private conscience."

"Oh!" interrupted Leo brusquely, "I for one do not regret that these

gentlemen should be made uncomfortable. A lay theologian has no adequate

reason for existing. It is altogether undesirable that laymen, mere

amateurs, should concern themselves with these things."

"Eh bien!" said Renan. "It is entirely owing to the laity that a certain

type of converts accrues to your ranks. Liberal Catholicism, though you

and I know what a vain, chimerical, and ridiculous thing it is, is, as

it were, the first step. Take Newman's theory of 'development' as an

example. Newman is the prophet dearest to the heart of laymen; because,

in a sense, his works are popular. The Anglican may read him as a

classic, and, while enchanted with the magic of that exquisite prose,

lays himself open to the attacks of a peculiarly subtile and insidious

mind. A certain temper is created in him. He becomes receptive of

Catholic ideas, and one watches him progressing more or less

unconsciously toward Rome, blind to his master's casuistry by reason of

the ineffable charm. He is like one implected with a morbid craving for

some narcotic drug, gradually increasing the dose as its effect lessens.

Liberal Catholics are the lures for such. Your Holiness had good reason

for saying that the Church had been founded by successive heresies. The

first step to a conversion is always a misunderstanding."

"It is perfectly true," said Leo; "but Liberal Catholicism is finished.

Only Newman's hat protects him from censure. The doctrine of development

ceased to have any value after the definition of infallibility. It was

valuable as leading up to the definition, but afterwards it became an

excuse for the introduction of novelties. Its sole value now is as a

proselytising medium. But, Monsieur, why do we continue? The Church is

dissolving; even Christianity itself seems to be dissolving, to take on

a fluid, personal form. That singular body, the Society of Friends,

alone seems to be untouched by the solvent of criticism. It has nothing

upon which the solvent may act, no dogmas, no sacraments, no depository

of tradition, no hierarchical organisation. It recognises only the

inward spirit, that informing and subtile essence which alone seems

capable of interpreting the righteousness of God, a religion of silence,

and of sudden illumination, a religion of patient hope, of resignation,

of a tacit understanding."

"Ah," said Renan, smiling, "a religion without forms, without

enthusiasms, is scarcely one to satisfy all men. It is fascinating to

consider the future of Christianity. After Catholicism no other form

will satisfy the Latins, and if criticism destroys Protestantism with

its infallible Bible, as it is destroying Catholicism with its

infallible Pope, these sophisticated nations will scarcely replace one

object of worship by another. You have said that a religion needs an

uncritical people, a people who do not think; so for any further

development we must turn toward a less complete civilisation, to a

virgin soil. Perhaps we find this in Russia. I can imagine that dreamy

and unsophisticated people, who have kept unpolluted through the ages

the temperament of wonder, reforming and developing the Greek Church.

When their Revolution comes, whether it be gradual and humane, or a

violent upheaval of disastrous passion, the Church will be

metamorphosed; the stock only will remain, and new boughs will be

grafted upon it. I can imagine a great growth because the field has lain

fallow for so long, and the modern spirit will scarcely touch it, not

only because the new Christianity will be more flexible in itself, but

also because the people will have inherited our results without having

endured our conflicts."

The clouds in front of them suddenly trembled and parted; the figure of

a man appeared.

"Mocenni!" exclaimed Leo.

He rose and went toward the newcomer.

"Who is Pope?" he enquired.

And the Cardinal Mocenni answered him in ill-humour.

"Sarto."

For a moment Leo stood, as if doubtful, without speaking.

"Sarto," he said at last incredulously. "Sarto!"

"Well, Monsieur," said Renan, "shall we not continue our discussion on

the future of the Church?"

But Leo had taken Mocenni's arm, and the pair walked slowly away.

"Sarto! Sarto!" Renan heard Leo say again, as the clouds gathered about

them; and Renan smiled.

"It is clear," he said, "that Sarto is not Leo."

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Scenes and Portraits, by Frederic Manning

Scenes and Portraits · 第 12 / 12 段