conflicting sentiments? I consider her very like a man who, leaving his
native country on a journey, is encountered by robbers, who inflict many
wounds on him, and leave him half dead. He sends for three physicians
resident in the neighboring towns. The first, on probing his wounds,
pronounces them mortal, and assures him that none but God can restore to
him his lost powers. The second, coming after the other, chooses to
flatter the man—tells him that he has still sufficient strength to reach
his home; and, abusing the first physician who opposed his advice,
determines upon his ruin. In this dilemma, the poor patient, observing
the third medical gentleman at a distance, stretches out his hands to
him as the person who should determine the controversy. This
practitioner, on examining his wounds, and ascertaining the opinions of
the first two doctors, embraces that of the second, and uniting with
him, the two combine against the first, and being the stronger party in
number, drive him from the field in disgrace. From this proceeding, the
patient naturally concludes that the last comer is of the same opinion
with the second; and, on putting the question to him, he assures him
most positively that his strength is sufficient for prosecuting his
journey. The wounded man, however, sensible of his own weakness, begs
him to explain to him how he considered him sufficient for the journey.
‘Because,’ replies his adviser, ‘you are still in possession of your
legs, and legs are the organs which naturally suffice for walking.’
‘But,’ says the patient, ‘have I all the strength necessary to make use
of my legs? for, in my present weak condition, it humbly appears to me
that they are wholly useless.’ ‘Certainly you have not,’ replies the
doctor; ‘you will never walk _effectively_, unless God vouchsafes some
extraordinary assistance to sustain and conduct you.’ ‘What!’ exclaims
the poor man, ‘do you not mean to say that I have sufficient strength in
me, so as to want for nothing to walk effectively?’ ‘Very far from it,’
returns the physician. ‘You must, then,’ says the patient, ‘be of a
different opinion from your companion there about my real condition.’ ‘I
must admit that I am,’ replies the other.
“What do you suppose the patient said to this? Why, he complained of the
strange conduct and ambiguous terms of this third physician. He censured
him for taking part with the second, to whom he was opposed in
sentiment, and with whom he had only the semblance of agreement, and for
having driven away the first doctor, with whom he in reality agreed;
and, after making a trial of his strength, and finding by experience his
actual weakness, he sent them both about their business, recalled his
first adviser, put himself under his care, and having, by his advice,
implored from God the strength of which he confessed his need, obtained
the mercy he sought, and, through divine help, reached his house in
peace.”
The worthy monk was so confounded with this parable that he could not
find words to reply. To cheer him up a little, I said to him, in a mild
tone: “But, after all, my dear father, what made you think of giving the
name of _sufficient_ to a grace which you say it is a point of faith to
believe is, in fact, insufficient?” “It is very easy for you to talk
about it,” said he. “You are an independent and private man; I am a
monk, and in a community—cannot you estimate the difference between the
two cases? We depend on superiors; they depend on others. They have
promised our votes—what would you have to become of me?” We understood
the hint; and this brought to our recollection the case of his brother
monk, who, for a similar piece of indiscretion, has been exiled to
Abbeville.
“But,” I resumed, “how comes it about that your community is bound to
admit this grace?” “That is another question,” he replied. “All that I
can tell you is, in one word, that our order has defended, to the utmost
of its ability, the doctrine of St. Thomas on efficacious grace. With
what ardor did it oppose, from the very commencement, the doctrine of
Molina? How did it labor to establish the necessity of the efficacious
grace of Jesus Christ? Don’t you know what happened under Clement VIII.
and Paul V., and how the former having been prevented by death, and the
latter hindered by some Italian affairs from publishing his bull, our
arms still sleep in the Vatican? But the Jesuits, availing themselves,
since the introduction of the heresy of Luther and Calvin, of the scanty
light which the people possess for discriminating between the error of
these men and the truth of the doctrine of St. Thomas, disseminated
their principles with such rapidity and success, that they became, ere
long, masters of the popular belief; while we, on our part, found
ourselves in the predicament of being denounced as Calvinists, and
treated as the Jansenists are at present, unless we qualified the
efficacious grace with, at least, the apparent avowal of a
_sufficient_.[100] In this extremity, what better course could we have
taken for saving the truth, without losing our own credit, than by
admitting the name of sufficient grace, while we denied that it was such
in effect? Such is the real history of the case.”
This was spoken in such a melancholy tone, that I really began to pity
the man; not so, however, my companion. “Flatter not yourselves,” said
he to the monk, “with having saved the truth; had she not found other
defenders, in your feeble hands she must have perished. By admitting
into the Church the name of her enemy, you have admitted the enemy
himself. Names are inseparable from things. If the term sufficient grace
be once established, it will be vain for you to protest that you
understand by it a grace which is _not_ sufficient. Your protest will be
held inadmissible. Your explanation would be scouted as odious in the
world, where men speak more ingenuously about matters of infinitely less
moment. The Jesuits will gain a triumph—it will be their grace, which is
sufficient, in fact, and not yours, which is only so in name, that will
pass as established; and the converse of your creed will become an
article of faith.”
“We will all suffer martyrdom first,” cried the father, “rather than
consent to the establishment of _sufficient grace in the sense of the
Jesuits_. St. Thomas, whom we have sworn to follow even to the death, is
diametrically opposed to such doctrine.”[101]
To this my friend, who took up the matter more seriously than I did,
replied: “Come now, father, your fraternity has received an honor which
it sadly abuses. It abandons that grace which was confided to its care,
and which has never been abandoned since the creation of the world. That
victorious grace, which was waited for by the patriarchs, predicted by
the prophets, introduced by Jesus Christ, preached by St. Paul,
explained by St. Augustine, the greatest of the fathers, embraced by his
followers, confirmed by St. Bernard, the last of the fathers,[102]
supported by St. Thomas, the angel of the schools,[103] transmitted by
him to your order, maintained by so many of your fathers, and so nobly
defended by your monks under popes Clement and Paul—that efficacious
grace, which had been committed as a sacred deposit into your hands,
that it might find, in a sacred and everlasting order, a succession of
preachers, who might proclaim it to the end of time—is discarded and
deserted for interests the most contemptible. It is high time for other
hands to arm in its quarrel. It is time for God to raise up intrepid
disciples of the Doctor of grace,[104] who, strangers to the
entanglements of the world, will serve God for God’s sake. Grace may
not, indeed, number the Dominicans among her champions, but champions
she shall never want; for, by her own almighty energy, she creates them
for herself. She demands hearts pure and disengaged; nay, she herself
purifies and disengages them from worldly interests, incompatible with
the truths of the Gospel. Reflect seriously on this, father; and take
care that God does not remove this candlestick from its place, leaving
you in darkness, and without the crown, as a punishment for the coldness
which you manifest to a cause so important to his Church.”[105]
He might have gone on in this strain much longer, for he was kindling as
he advanced, but I interrupted him by rising to take my leave, and said:
“Indeed, my dear father, had I any influence in France, I should have it
proclaimed, by sound of trumpet: ‘_BE IT KNOWN TO ALL MEN, that when the
Jacobins SAY that sufficient grace is given to all, they MEAN that all
have not the grace which actually suffices!_’ After which, you might say
it as often as you please, but not otherwise.” And thus ended our visit.
You will perceive, therefore, that we have here a _politic sufficiency_
somewhat similar to _proximate power_. Meanwhile I may tell you, that it
appears to me that both the proximate power and this same sufficient
grace may be safely doubted by anybody, provided he is not a
Jacobin.[106]
I have just come to learn, when closing my letter, that the censure[107]
has passed. But as I do not yet know in what terms it is worded, and as
it will not be published till the 15th of February, I shall delay
writing you about it till the next post.—I am, &c.
-----
Footnote 97:
The Dominicans.
Footnote 98:
_Et la suite fera voir que ces derniers ne sont pas les plus dupes._
This clause, which appears in the last Paris edition, is wanting in
the ordinary editions. The following sentence seems to require it.
Footnote 99:
_Il opine du bonnet comme un moine en Sorbonne_—literally, “He votes
with his cap like a monk in the Sorbonne”—alluding to the custom in
that place of taking off the cap when a member was not disposed to
speak, or in token of agreement with the rest. The half-hour
sand-glass was a trick of the Jesuits, or Molinist party, to prevent
their opponents from entering closely into the merits of the
controversy, which required frequent references to the fathers.
(Nicole, i. 184.)
Footnote 100:
“It is certain,” says Bayle, “that the obligation which the Romish
Church is under to respect the doctrine of St. Augustine on the
subject of grace, in consequence of its having received the sanction
of Popes and Councils at various times, placed it in a very awkward
and ridiculous situation. It is so obvious to every man who examines
the matter without prejudice, and with the necessary means of
information, that the doctrine of Augustine and that of Jansenius are
one and the same, that it is impossible to see, without feelings of
indignation, the Court of Rome boasting of having condemned Jansenius,
and nevertheless preserving to St. Augustine all his glory. The two
things are utterly irreconcilable. What is more, the Council of Trent,
by condemning the doctrine of Calvin on free-will, has, by necessity,
condemned that of St. Augustine; for there is no Calvinist who has
denied, or who can deny, the concourse of the human will and the
liberty of the soul, in the sense which St. Augustine gives to the
words concourse, co-operation, and liberty. There is no Calvinist who
does not acknowledge the freedom of the will, and its use in
conversion, if that word is understood according to the ideas of St.
Augustine. Those whom the Council of Trent condemns do not reject
free-will, except as signifying the liberty of indifference. The
Thomists, also, reject it under this notion, and yet they pass for
very good Catholics.” (Bayle’s Dict., art. _Augustine_.)
Footnote 101:
It is a singular fact that the Roman Church, which boasts so much of
her unity, and is ever charging the Reformed with being Calvinists,
Lutherans, &c., is, in reality, divided into numerous conflicting
sects, each _sworn_ to uphold the peculiar sentiments of its founder.
If there is one principle more essential than another to the
Reformation, it is that of entire independence of all masters in the
faith: “Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri.”
Footnote 102:
“The famous St. Bernard, abbot of Clairval, whose influence throughout
all Europe was incredible—whose word was a law, and whose counsels
were regarded by kings and princes as so many orders to which the most
respectful obedience was due; this eminent ecclesiastic was the person
who contributed most to enrich and aggrandize the Cistercian order.”
(Mosh. Eccl. Hist., cent. xii.)
Footnote 103:
Thomas Aquinas, a scholastic divine of the thirteenth century, who was
termed the _Angelic Doctor_.
Footnote 104:
Augustine.
Footnote 105:
Who can help regretting that sentiments so evangelical, so truly
noble, and so eloquently expressed, should have been held by Pascal in
connection with a Church which denounced him as a heretic for
upholding them!
Footnote 106:
An ironical reflection on the cowardly compromise of the Jacobins, or
Dominicans, for having pledged themselves to the use of the term
“sufficient,” in order to please the Jesuits.
Footnote 107:
The censure of the Theological Faculty of the Sorbonne passed against
M. Arnauld, and which is fully discussed in Letter iii.
REPLY OF THE “PROVINCIAL” TO THE FIRST TWO LETTERS OF HIS FRIEND.
_February 2, 1656._
SIR,—Your two letters have not been confined to me. Everybody has seen
them, everybody understands them, and everybody believes them. They are
not only in high repute among theologians—they have proved agreeable to
men of the world, and intelligible even to the ladies.
In a communication which I lately received from one of the gentlemen of
the Academy—one of the most illustrious names in a society of men who
are all illustrious—who had seen only your first letter, he writes me as
follows: “I only wish that the Sorbonne, which owes so much to the
memory of the late cardinal,[108] would acknowledge the jurisdiction of
his French Academy. The author of the letter would be satisfied; for, in
the capacity of an academician, I would authoritatively condemn, I would
banish, I would proscribe—I had almost said exterminate—to the extent of
my power, this _proximate power_, which makes so much noise about
nothing, and without knowing what it would have. The misfortune is, that
our academic ‘power’ is a very limited and _remote_ power. I am sorry
for it; and still more sorry that my small power cannot discharge me
from my obligations to you,” &c.
My next extract is from the pen of a lady, whom I shall not indicate in
any way whatever. She writes thus to a female friend who had transmitted
to her the first of your letters: “You can have no idea how much I am
obliged to you for the letter you sent me—it is so very ingenious, and
so nicely written. It narrates, and yet it is not a narrative; it clears
up the most intricate and involved of all possible matters; its raillery
is exquisite; it enlightens those who know little about the subject, and
imparts double delight to those who understand it. It is an admirable
apology; and, if they would so take it, a delicate and innocent censure.
In short, that letter displays so much art, so much spirit, and so much
judgment, that I burn with curiosity to know who wrote it,” &c.
You too, perhaps, would like to know who the lady is that writes in this
style; but you must be content to esteem without knowing her; when you
come to know her, your esteem will be greatly enhanced.
Take my word for it, then, and continue your letters; and let the
censure come when it may, we are quite prepared for receiving it. These
words, “proximate power,” and “sufficient grace,” with which we are
threatened, will frighten us no longer. We have learned from the
Jesuits, the Jacobins, and M. le Moine, in how many different ways they
may be turned, and how little solidity there is in these new-fangled
terms, to give ourselves any trouble about them.—Meanwhile, I remain,
&c.
-----
Footnote 108:
The Cardinal de Richelieu, the celebrated founder of the French
Academy. The Sorbonne owed its magnificence to the liberality of this
eminent statesman, who rebuilt its house, enlarged its revenues,
enriched its library, and took it under his special patronage.
LETTER III.
INJUSTICE, ABSURDITY, AND NULLITY OF THE CENSURE ON M. ARNAULD.
PARIS, _February 9, 1656_.
SIR,—I have just received your letter; and, at the same time, there was
brought me a copy of the censure in manuscript. I find that I am as well
treated in the former, as M. Arnauld is ill-treated in the latter. I am
afraid there is some extravagance in both cases, and that neither of us
is sufficiently well known by our judges. Sure I am, that were we better
known, M. Arnauld would merit the approval of the Sorbonne, and I the
censure of the Academy. Thus our interests are quite at variance with
each other. It is his interest to make himself known, to vindicate his
innocence; whereas it is mine to remain in the dark, for fear of
forfeiting my reputation. Prevented, therefore, from showing my face, I
must devolve on you the task of making my acknowledgments to my
illustrious admirers, while I undertake that of furnishing you with the
news of the censure.
I assure you, sir, it has filled me with astonishment. I expected to
find it condemning the most shocking heresy in the world, but your
wonder will equal mine, when informed that these alarming preparations,
when on the point of producing the grand effect anticipated, have all
ended in smoke.
To understand the whole affair in a pleasant way, only recollect, I
beseech you, the strange impressions which, for a long time past, we
have been taught to form of the Jansenists. Recall to mind the cabals,
the factions, the errors, the schisms, the outrages, with which they
have been so long charged; the manner in which they have been denounced
and vilified from the pulpit and the press; and the degree to which this
torrent of abuse, so remarkable for its violence and duration, has
swollen of late years, when they have been openly and publicly accused
of being not only heretics and schismatics, but apostates and
infidels—with “denying the mystery of transubstantiation, and renouncing
Jesus Christ and the Gospel.”[109]
After having published these startling[110] accusations, it was resolved
to examine their writings, in order to pronounce judgment on them. For
this purpose the second letter of M. Arnauld, which was reported to be
full of the greatest errors,[111] is selected. The examiners appointed
are his most open and avowed enemies. They employ all their learning to
discover something that they might lay hold upon, and at length they
produce one proposition of a doctrinal character, which they exhibit for
censure.
What else could any one infer from such proceedings, than that this
proposition, selected under such remarkable circumstances, would contain
the essence of the blackest heresies imaginable. And yet the proposition
so entirely agrees with what is clearly and formally expressed in the
passages from the fathers quoted by M. Arnauld, that I have not met with
a single individual who could comprehend the difference between them.
Still, however, it might be imagined that there was a very great
difference; for the passages from the fathers being unquestionably
catholic, the proposition of M. Arnauld, if heretical, must be widely
opposed[112] to them.
Such was the difficulty which the Sorbonne was expected to clear up. All
Christendom waited, with wide-opened eyes, to discover, in the censure
of these learned doctors, the point of difference which had proved
imperceptible to ordinary mortals. Meanwhile M. Arnauld gave in his
defences, placing his own proposition and the passages of the fathers
from which he had drawn it in parallel columns, so as to make the
agreement between them apparent to the most obtuse understandings.
He shows, for example, that St. Augustine says in one passage, that
“Jesus Christ points out to us, in the person of St. Peter, a righteous
man warning us by his fall to avoid presumption.” He cites another
passage from the same father, in which he says, “that God, in order to
show us that without grace we can do nothing, left St. Peter without
grace.” He produces a third, from St. Chrysostom, who says, “that the
fall of St. Peter happened, not through any coldness towards Jesus
Christ, but because grace failed him; and that he fell, not so much
through his own negligence as through the withdrawment of God, as a
lesson to the whole Church, that without God we can do nothing.” He then
gives his own accused proposition, which is as follows: “The fathers
point out to us, in the person of St. Peter, a righteous man to whom
that grace without which we can do nothing, was wanting.”
In vain did people attempt to discover how it could possibly be, that M.
Arnauld’s expression differed from those of the fathers as much as truth
from error, and faith from heresy. For where was the difference to be
found? Could it be in these words, “that the fathers point out to us, in
the person of St. Peter, a righteous man?” St. Augustine has said the
same thing in so many words. Is it because he says “that grace had
failed him?” The same St. Augustine, who had said that “St. Peter was a
righteous man,” says “that he had not had grace on that occasion.” Is
it, then, for his having said, “that without grace we can do nothing?”
Why, is not this just what St. Augustine says in the same place, and
what St. Chrysostom had said before him, with this difference only, that
he expresses it in much stronger language, as when he says “that his
fall did not happen through his own coldness or negligence, but through
the failure of grace, and the withdrawment of God?”[113]
Such considerations as these kept everybody in a state of breathless
suspense, to learn in what this diversity could consist, when at length,
after a great many meetings, this famous and long-looked for censure
made its appearance. But, alas! it has sadly baulked our expectation.
Whether it be that the Molinist doctors would not condescend so far as
to enlighten us on the point, or for some other mysterious reason, the
fact is, they have done nothing more than pronounce these words: “This
proposition is rash, impious, blasphemous, accursed, and heretical!”
Would you believe it, sir, that most people, finding themselves deceived
in their expectations, have got into bad humor, and begin to fall foul
upon the censors themselves? They are drawing strange inferences from
their conduct in favor of M. Arnauld’s innocence. “What!” they are
saying, “is this all that could be achieved, during all this time, by so
many doctors joining in a furious attack on one individual? Can they
find nothing in all his works worthy of reprehension, but three lines,
and these extracted, word for word, from the greatest doctors of the
Greek and Latin Churches? Is there any author whatever whose writings,
were it intended to ruin him, would not furnish a more specious pretext
for the purpose? And what higher proof could be furnished of the
orthodoxy of this illustrious accused?
“How comes it to pass,” they add, “that so many denunciations are
launched in this censure, into which they have crowded such terms as
‘poison, pestilence, horror, rashness, impiety, blasphemy, abomination,
execration, anathema, heresy’—the most dreadful epithets that could be
used against Arius, or Antichrist himself; and all to combat an
imperceptible heresy, and that, moreover, without telling us what it is?
If it be against the words of the fathers that they inveigh in this
style, where is the faith and tradition? If against M. Arnauld’s
proposition, let them point out the difference between the two; for we
can see nothing but the most perfect harmony between them. As soon as we
have discovered the evil of the proposition, we shall hold it in
abhorrence; but so long as we do not see it, or rather see nothing in
the statement but the sentiments of the holy fathers, conceived and
expressed in their own terms, how can we possibly regard it with any
other feelings than those of holy veneration?”
Such is a specimen of the way in which they are giving vent to their
feelings. But these are by far too deep-thinking people. You and I, who
make no pretensions to such extraordinary penetration, may keep
ourselves quite easy about the whole affair. What! would we be wiser
than our masters? No: let us take example from them, and not undertake
what they have not ventured upon. We would be sure to get boggled in
such an attempt. Why it would be the easiest thing imaginable, to render
this censure itself heretical. Truth, we know, is so delicate, that if
we make the slightest deviation from it, we fall into error; but this
alleged error is so extremely fine-spun, that, if we diverge from it in
the slightest degree, we fall back upon the truth. There is positively
nothing between this obnoxious proposition and the truth but an
imperceptible point. The distance between them is so impalpable, that I
was in terror lest, from pure inability to perceive it, I might, in my
over-anxiety to agree with the doctors of the Sorbonne, place myself in
opposition to the doctors of the Church. Under this apprehension, I
judged it expedient to consult one of those who, through policy, was
neutral on the first question, that from him I might learn the real
state of the matter. I have accordingly had an interview with one of the
most intelligent of that party, whom I requested to point out to me the
difference between the two things, at the same time frankly owning to
him that I could see none.
He appeared to be amused at my simplicity, and replied, with a smile:
“How simple it is in you to believe that there is any difference! Why,
where could it be? Do you imagine that, if they could have found out any
discrepancy between M. Arnauld and the fathers, they would not have
boldly pointed it out, and been delighted with the opportunity of
exposing it before the public, in whose eyes they are so anxious to
depreciate that gentleman?”