Protestantism and Catholicity

So far, indeed, are the doctrines of Catholicity from checking philosophical progress, that they are, on the contrary, a most fruitful source of this progress in every respect. If we wish to make progress in any of the sciences, it is no slight advantage for the intellect to have a safe and firm axis around which it may revolve; it is a fortunate thing to be enabled to avoid at the very outset in the intellectual race, a multitude of questions which would entangle us in inextricable labyrinths, or from which we could not escape without falling into most lamentable absurdities; in a word, when we approach the investigation of these questions, we ought to consider ourselves happy in finding them resolved beforehand in their most important points, and in knowing where the truth lies, and where the danger of falling into error. The philosopher's position is then that of a man who, sure of the existence of a mine in a certain spot, does not waste his time in searching after it, but, knowing his ground, his researches and labors are profitable from the first. This is the cause of the vast advantage which in these matters modern philosophers possess over those of antiquity: the ancients had to grope in the dark; the moderns, preceded by brilliant lights, advance with a firm and sure step, and march straight to their destination. They may boast incessantly that they set aside revelation, that they hold it in disdain, perhaps that they even openly attack it. Even in this case religion enlightens them, and often guides their steps; for there are a thousand splendid ideas for which they are indebted to religion, and which they cannot erase from their minds; ideas which they have found in books, learned in catechisms, and imbibed with their milk; ideas which they hear uttered by every one around them, which are spread everywhere, and which impregnate with their vivifying and beneficent influence the atmosphere they breathe. In repudiating religion, these same moderns are carrying ingratitude to great lengths; for at the very moment they insult her, they are profiting by her favors.

This is not the place to enter into details on this matter, or numerous proofs might easily be adduced in support of the foregoing observations; a comparison between the first works of modern philosophy that came to hand and the works of the ancients would be decisive; but such a labor would still be incomplete for those who are not versed in these matters; and for those who are so, it would be superfluous. I leave the question with entire confidence to the perspicacity and impartiality of my readers; it will, I think, be acknowledged that whenever our modern philosophers have spoken of man with truth and dignity, their language has borne the impress of Christian ideas. Such is the influence of Catholicity upon those sciences which, confined to a purely speculative order, allow the genius of the philosopher the widest range and the greatest freedom possible; but if, as regards those sciences, the influence of Catholicity, instead of checking the mind in its flight, only enlarges its range, increases its sublimity, its daring, and at the same time its security, by preventing it from running astray, what shall we say of its influence on the study of ethics? Has the whole body of philosophers together ever discovered any thing beyond what is contained in the Gospel? What doctrine excels in purity, in sanctity, in sublimity that taught by the Catholic religion? On this point we will do justice to the philosophers, even to those most hostile to the Christian religion. They have attacked its doctrines, and smiled at the divinity of its origin; but have always evinced a profound respect for its morality. I know not what secret influence has constrained them into an avowal that must certainly have cost them dear. "Yes," they invariably say, "it cannot be denied that the morality of Catholicity is excellent."

There are certain doctrines of Catholicity which cannot be said to appertain directly either to God, to man, or to morality, in the sense generally given to this word. The Catholic religion is a revealed religion, of an order far superior to any thing that the human mind is capable of conceiving. Its object is to guide us to a destiny that we could neither attain nor even imagine by our own strength, and it is based upon this principle, that human nature, corrupted by the fall, requires to be restored and purified; evidently, therefore, it should contain certain doctrines explanatory of the mode in which this work of restoration and purification is to be effected, whether in a general or particular sense; and at the same time pointing out the means which God has chosen to lead man to happiness. Such are the doctrines of the Incarnation, of Redemption, of Grace, and of the Sacraments.

These dogmas embrace a wide field; the relations in which they stand to God and to man are very extensive; the doctrines of the Catholic Church are, and always have been, unchangeable. Well then! extensive as they are, they afford not a single point that can be said to have a tendency to embarrass the free action of the intellect in investigations of any kind. The cause of this fact is the same as that I have already indicated. Those who have attentively compared the sciences of philosophy and theology may have remarked that theology, in the sublime questions mentioned above, occupies a sphere so distinct and supereminent as scarcely to preserve a single point of contact with that in which philosophy moves. They are two vast and sublime orbits, occupying in the depths of space positions very distant from each other. Man sometimes tries to make them approximate, and would be glad if a ray of terrestrial light could penetrate into the region of incomprehensible mysteries; but he scarcely knows how to begin this, and we hear him avow, with a profound sense of his own weakness, that he is speaking only conventionally and by analogy, merely with a view to make himself better understood. The Church allows such attempts, owing to the good intentions they evince; sometimes she even prompts and encourages them, desiring, as far as possible, to accommodate what is incomprehensible in her doctrines to the feeble capacities of men.

After all their reasonings on the attributes of the Divinity and the relations of man to God, have philosophers discovered any thing incompatible with these doctrines of Catholicity? Have revealed truths stood in their way as a stumbling-block to their investigations? When Descartes, in the seventeenth century, effected a revolution in philosophy, a singular incident occurred that will throw a strong light on this subject. The Catholic doctrine respecting the august mystery of the Eucharist is known, and also in what the dogma of transubstantiation consists. Many theologians, the reader is also probably aware, in order to explain the supernatural phenomenon which takes place after the consummation of the miracle, had recourse to the doctrine of accidents, which they distinguished from the substance. Now the theory of Descartes, and of almost all other modern philosophers, was incompatible with this explanation, for they denied the existence of accidents distinct from the substance. It consequently appeared at first sight that a difficulty would here arise for the Catholic doctrine, and that the Church would have to oppose this system of philosophy. And did it so happen? Not at all. Upon a careful investigation of the matter, it was seen that the Catholic dogma belonged to a region infinitely above that uncertain one in which the philosophic doctrine was discovered, however closely they might have seemed to approximate. In vain theologians discussed the matter, indulged in mutual recriminations, drew from the new doctrine all sorts of inferences, in order to represent it as dangerous. The Church, always superior to the thoughts of men, kept aloof from these disputes, maintaining that grave, majestic, and impassive attitude so well becoming her to whom Jesus Christ confided the sacred deposit of His doctrine. Such is the liberty accorded by the Church to the genius of philosophers, that it is free in every sense. The Church has no need to be continually imposing restrictions and conditions; the sacred doctrines of which she is the depository dwelling in so elevated a region that the mind of man can scarcely ever meet them, at least so long as his investigations do not wander from the track of true philosophy.

But this human reason, at once so powerful and so feeble, sometimes becomes puffed up with arrogance and pride, and in the name of liberty and independence claims a right to blaspheme the Almighty, to deny man's free will, the immortality and spirituality of his soul, her sublime origin and her heavenly destiny. At such a time we avow, and we glory in the avowal, the Church does raise her voice, not to oppress or tyrannize over the human mind, but to defend the rights of the Supreme Being and the dignity of human nature; then, indeed, we behold her opposing, with unyielding firmness, that senseless liberty which consists in the fatal right of uttering all sorts of extravagances. This liberty Catholics neither possess nor desire, knowing that in these matters, as in others, there is a sacred line of demarcation between liberty and licentiousness. Happy slavery, that keeps us from atheism, materialism, and from doubting whether our souls come from God, whether they tend towards Him, and whether there exists for unhappy mortals, after the sufferings that weigh upon them in this life, a life of eternal happiness purchased by the merits of a God-man! As for the sciences which have society for their object, I think I need not vindicate the Catholic religion from the reproach of having in this respect oppressed the human mind. The long train of reflections in which I have set forth her doctrines and her influence, as regards the nature and extent of power, and the civil and political liberty of nations, proves to a demonstration that the Catholic religion, without descending to the arena in which the passions of men strive and contend, teaches a doctrine most favorable to true civilization and to the rightly-understood liberties of the people.

I will also touch briefly upon the relations of the Catholic principle with the study of the natural sciences. Assuredly it is not easy to see in what way this principle can be injurious to the progress of the human mind in this department of knowledge. I have said, it is not easy; I might have said impossible, and that for a very simple reason, founded upon a fact within the reach of every man; viz. the extreme reserve which the Catholic religion evinces in every thing relating to purely natural science. One might suppose that God had designed, on this matter, to read us a severe lesson on our excessive curiosity: you have only to read the Bible to be convinced of the truth of what I have advanced. I do not mean that nature is never noticed in the Bible; that divine book presents her to us in her grandest, noblest, and most sublime aspect; as a living whole, in fact, together with all her relations and her sublime destiny, but without any kind of analysis or decomposition. In these sacred pages the painter's pencil and the poet's fancy will meet with magnificent models; but the inquisitive philosopher will look in vain for the hints he is in quest of. The Holy Spirit did not aim at making naturalists, but virtuous men; hence, in describing the creation, He represents it solely in a light the best adapted to excite in us feelings of admiration and gratitude towards the Author of so many wonders and benefits. Nature, as she appears in the sacred text, has not much to gratify the curiosity of the philosopher; but then she delights and ennobles the imagination – she moves and penetrates the heart.

CHAPTER LXX.

HISTORICAL ANALYSIS OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT

From the rapid view we have taken of the several branches of learning in their relations to the authority of the Church, it is clear to a demonstration, that the alleged enslavement of the intellect amongst Catholics is nothing but a mere bugbear: in no respect does our faith either arrest or retard the progress of learning. Since, however, it not unfrequently happens that, in arguments apparently the most solid, a flaw is discovered when they are brought to the test of facts, it will be well to corroborate our assertion by historical testimony; fully assured as we are, that the result must be favorable to the cause of truth. We will begin at the beginning.

M. Guizot maintains that the contest between the Church and the advocates of the freedom of thought originated in the middle ages. Noticing the efforts of John Erigena, Roscelin, Abelard, and the alarm they excited in the Church, he observes: "This was the great event that occurred at the end of the eleventh, and at the beginning of the twelfth centuries, at a time when the Church was under theocratic and monastic influence. It was then that, for the first time, a serious struggle was commenced between the clergy and the freethinkers." (Hist. Générale de la Civilisation en Europe. Leçon 6.) The entire scope of M. Guizot's work shows that, in his judgment, the best-founded reproach that could be cast upon the Catholic Church was, that she checked the freedom of thought. According to him, this is the point upon which the advantage of the Protestant system over Catholicity is the least controvertible. His object being the complete development of this idea, in treating of the religious revolution of the sixteenth century it was requisite for him to deposit it as a seed in his preliminary lectures; as otherwise the fact of the Reformation would have appeared isolated, and shorn of its importance. Besides, it was necessary that the resistance of Protestants to the Catholic Church should have a meaning; that it should carry with it the appearance of a noble and generous thought; that it should be regarded as the proclamation of the freedom of the human mind. To attain this end, the Church, on the one hand, must be represented as asserting claims in the middle ages to which she had not previously pretended; and, on the other, those writers who resisted these alleged pretensions of the Church must be held up as men of extraordinary penetration.

Now, such is precisely the thread of M. Guizot's discourse; and we hence infer his efforts to prepare beforehand the triumph of his opinions. His plan, however, is ill-concerted; for he appears to have overlooked the most palpable facts in the history of the Church; and not even to have known what were the doctrines of the three champions, whose names he invokes with so much complacency. That no one may accuse me of making inconsiderate assertions, I will here quote his words literally: "Thus every thing," says he, "seemed turning to the advantage of the Church, of her unity, and of her power. But whilst the Papacy was grasping at the government of the world, whilst the monasteries were undergoing a moral reformation, a few powerful but isolated individuals claimed for human reason the right of being something in man, the right to interfere in the formation of his opinions. Most of them refrained from attacking received opinions, or religious belief; they merely said that reason had a right to prove them; and that it was not enough that they were affirmed by authority. John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard were the interpreters, through whom individual reason began to lay claim to her inheritance – the first authors of that movement of liberty, which was associated with the reform movement of Hildebrand and St. Bernard. If we seek the dominant feature of this movement, we shall find that it was not a change of opinion, a revolt against the system of public belief; it was simply the right of reasoning claimed for reason." (Hist. Générale de la Civilisation en Europe. Leçon 6.)

We will pass over the author's singular parallel between the efforts of John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard, and those of the great reformers, Hildebrand or St. Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. These latter sought to reform the Church by legitimate means, to render the clergy more venerable by making them more virtuous, and to win greater respect for authority by sanctifying the persons entrusted with its exercise: the others, according to M. Guizot, resisted this authority in matters of faith; that is, they aimed at its overthrow, and for this purpose laid the axe to the root; the former were reformers, the latter devastators: and yet we are told that their efforts were directed to one and the same object, had one and the same tendency. Verily, the philosophy of history were a sorry thing, if it could allow of such a confusion of ideas! What progress can be made in this branch of knowledge, by men who have so strange a way of dealing with facts? But, I repeat, let us take leave of these aberrations, and fix our attention specially on two points: the worth of these three writers, so much vaunted, and the idea we are told to entertain of their resistance to authority. Doubtless the names of John Erigena and Roscelin are already pronounced with respect by those persons who would fain be thought well versed in the philosophy of history, without having ever read history, and who are obliged to content themselves with those easy lessons that are learned in an hour, and studied in an evening. With persons of this description, it is enough to have heard these names pronounced with emphasis, to have seen them coupled with epithets, such as powerful men, advocates of human reason, interpreters of individual reason, to make them fancy that learning is no less indebted to Erigena and Roscelin than to Descartes or Bacon.

Without bearing in mind the remarks I have already made on the peculiarity of M. Guizot's position, it would not be easy to conjecture why he should seek to represent as new and extraordinary, what was, in fact, neither new nor uncommon; how he could say that the Church first began the contest against liberty of thought, when she put down Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard. He brings forward these three writers, as though their influence had been paramount; whereas they had no more influence than other sectarians, who abounded in preceding centuries. Who and what really was this John Erigena? A writer but imperfectly versed in theological science; but who, puffed up by the favor shown him by Charles the Bold, broached certain errors on the subject of the Eucharist, predestination and grace. In all that, I see only a man departing from the doctrine of the Church; and in Nicholas the First attempting to stop him in his career, I see only a Pope fulfilling his duty. What is there in all this either new or extraordinary? Does not the whole history of the Church, from the time of the Apostles, exhibit an unbroken succession of similar facts?

I repeat, it is impossible to conceive for what purpose the name of Erigena is brought forward. His errors produced no result of importance; and the age in which he lived cannot be considered as having exercised any great influence on the intellectual development of subsequent times. He lived in the ninth century. Now, this century had no share in the movement of those that followed; indeed, it is well known that the tenth century was the darkest period of ignorance during the middle ages; and that the intellectual movement commenced only at the close of the tenth, and at the opening of the eleventh century. Erigena and Roscelin are separated by two centuries. As for Roscelin and Abelard, it is easier to understand why their names are cited. Every one knows the noise that Abelard made in the world by his doctrines, and perhaps still more by his adventures. Roscelin may also command attention by his errors, and especially as the master of Abelard.

To give an idea of the spirit that guided these men, and of the opinion we are to form of their intentions, we must enter into some details touching their lives and their doctrines. Roscelin was one of the most crafty men of his time. A subtle dialectician and warm partizan of the sect of the Nominalists, he substituted his own opinions for the teaching of the Church; and ended by falling into the gravest errors on the sacred mystery of the Trinity. History has recorded a fact, that proves incontestably the notorious dishonesty of the man – his want of probity and of modesty. At the time that Roscelin was propagating his errors, St. Anselm, who was afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, was living, but at that time abbot of Beck. Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, who died some time before, had left behind him the highest reputation for virtue and sound doctrine. Roscelin thought that the authority of so high a name would give currency and consideration to his errors; and, resorting to the foulest calumny, he affirmed that his opinions were the same as those of Archbishop Lanfranc, and Anselm, abbot of Beck. To this calumny Lanfranc could not reply, as he was already in the tomb; but the abbot of Beck vigorously repelled so unjust an imputation; and at the same time vindicated the reputation of Lanfranc, who had been his master. The works of St. Anselm leave no doubt as to the nature of Roscelin's errors. We find them recorded with the greatest precision. In fact, it were difficult to say why M. Guizot has conferred so much importance upon this man, or why he should be adduced as one of the principal champions of the freedom of thought. There is nothing in Roscelin to distinguish him from other heretics. He is a man who employs artifices and subtleties, and falls into error; but nothing is more common in the history of the Church; and it certainly cannot be considered matter of astonishment.

Abelard is more deserving of notice: his name has become so famous that no one is unacquainted with his sad adventures. A disciple of Roscelin, and as well skilled as his master in the dialectics of the age, endowed with great talents, and eager to parade them on the principal theatres of literature, Abelard earned a reputation never attained by the dialectician of Compiègne. His errors on points of very great importance produced much mischief in the Church, and drew upon himself many sorrows. But it is not true, as M. Guizot will have it, that his doctrines met with less reproof than his method; neither is it true that he and his master Roscelin had no intention of effecting a radical change in matters of doctrine. Evidence of a most unexceptionable kind fortunately places the matter beyond all doubt, and proves that it was not Roscelin's method, but his error on the Trinity, for which he was condemned. Nor have we less certainty in the case of Abelard; for the various errors taken from his works are preserved in the form of articles.

We learn from St. Bernard, that on the Trinity, Abelard held the opinions of Arius – on the Incarnation, those of Nestorius – on grace, those of Pelagius. All this did not merely tend to a radical change of doctrine, but actually was one. I do not know that Abelard ever protested against the truth of these accusations; and even if he had, we all know how to estimate such a protest. It is certain that, in the famous Assembly of Sens – convoked at the request of Abelard himself – he had not a word to say in reply to the sainted abbot of Clairvaux, who reproached him with his errors; and laying before him the very words of his propositions, extracted from his writings, urged him either to defend or abjure them. Abelard, confronted with so formidable an adversary, was so embarrassed that he could only say, in reply, that he appealed to Rome. The Council of Sens, out of respect for the Holy See, abstained from condemning the person of the innovator, but did not fail to condemn his errors; and this condemnation was approved by the Sovereign Pontiff, and extended to his person also. Now, from the articles containing the errors of Abelard, it does not appear that his dominant idea was to proclaim the liberty of thought. He has, it is true, an overweening confidence in his own subtleties; but, beyond this, his only fault is an erroneous and dogmatizing spirit on points of the greatest importance; a fault which he had in common with all the heretics who preceded him.

All this M. Guizot ought to have known; how he can have overlooked it I cannot imagine, nor why he attaches to these authors an importance which they really do not deserve. Perhaps he was anxious to furnish Protestants with some illustrious predecessors, when he laid such stress on the names of Roscelin and Abelard. These two, after all, were not deficient in ability or in erudition, and they lived precisely during the early period of the intellectual movement. Probably M. Guizot thought, that to bring these two innovators upon the scene would answer his purpose extremely well, as showing that, from the very dawn of intellectual development, men of the greatest fame had raised their voices in favor of freedom of thought. After all, had M. Guizot succeeded in proving that John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard aimed at nothing more than the assertion of the right of private examination in matters of faith, it would not follow that these innovators had not sought to effect a radical change in matters of doctrine. In fact, what can be more radical as regards matters of faith than that which strikes at authority, the root of all certainty? Neither would it follow, that in condemning the errors of these men the Church had taken alarm merely at their method; for if this method was to consist in withdrawing the intellect from the yoke of authority, even in matters of faith, it was itself a very grievous error, combated at all times by the Catholic Church, which never would consent to have her authority called in question on points of faith.