Protestantism and Catholicity

One of the causes which contributed the most to the development of the human mind was the creation of great centres of instruction, collecting the most illustrious talents and learning, and diffusing rays of light in all directions. I know not how men could forget that this idea was not due to the pretended Reformation, seeing that most of the universities of Europe were established long before the birth of Luther. That of Oxford was established in 895; Cambridge in 1280; that of Prague, in Bohemia, in 1358; that of Louvain, in Belgium, in 1425; that of Vienna, in Austria, in 1365; that of Ingolstadt, in Germany, in 1372; that of Leipsic in 1408; that of Basle, in Switzerland, in 1469; that of Salamanca in 1200; that of Alcala in 1517. It would be superfluous to notice the antiquity of the universities of Paris, of Bologna, of Ferrara, and of a great many others, which attained the highest renown long before the advent of Protestantism. The Popes, it is well known, took an active part in the establishment of universities, granting them privileges, and bestowing upon them the highest honors and distinctions. How can any one, then, venture to assert, that Rome has opposed the progress of learning and the sciences, in order to keep the people in darkness and ignorance? As if Divine Providence had intended to confound these future calumniators of His Church, Protestantism made its appearance precisely at the time when, under the auspices of a renowned Pope, the progress in the science, in literature and the arts was most active. Posterity, judging of our disputes with impartiality, will undoubtedly pass a severe sentence upon those pretended philosophers, who are constantly endeavoring to prove from history, that Catholicity has impeded the progress of the human mind, and that scientific progress has been all owing to the cry of liberty raised in central Germany. Yes; sensible men in future ages, like those of our own times, will form a correct judgment upon this subject, when they reflect that Luther began to propagate his errors in the age of Leo X.

Certainly, the court of Rome could not at that time be reproached with obscurantism. Rome was at the head of all progress, which she urged onwards with the most active zeal, the most ardent enthusiasm; so much so, indeed, that if she were censurable at all – if there were in her conduct any thing of which history should disapprove – it was rather that her march was too quick than too slow. Had another St. Bernard addressed Leo X., he would assuredly not have blamed him for abusing his authority to impede the march of the human intellect and the progress of learning. "The Reformation," says M. de Chateaubriand, "deeply imbued with the spirit of its founder – a coarse and jealous monk – declared itself the enemy of the arts. By prohibiting the exercise of the imaginative faculties, it clipped the wings of genius, and made her plod on foot. It raised an outcry against certain alms destined for the erection of the basilica of St. Peter for the use of the Christian world. Would the Greeks have refused the assistance solicited from their piety for the building of a temple to Minerva? Had the Reformation been completely successful from the beginning, it would have established, for a time at least, another species of barbarism: viewing as superstition the pomp of divine worship; as idolatry the chefs-d'œuvre of sculpture, of architecture, and of painting, its tendency was to annihilate lofty eloquence and sublime poetry – to degrade taste, by repudiating its models – to introduce a dry, cold, and captious formality into the operations of the mind – to substitute in society affectation and materialism in lieu of ingenuousness and intellectuality, and to make machinery take the place of manual and mental operations. These are truths confirmed by everyday experience.

"Amongst the various branches of the reformed religion, their approximation to the beautiful and sublime is always found to be proportioned to the amount of Catholic truth they have retained. In England, where an ecclesiastical hierarchy has been upheld, literature has had its classic era. Lutheranism preserves some sparks of imagination, which Calvinism aims at utterly extinguishing; and so on, till we come to Quakerism, which would reduce social life to unpolished manners and the practice of trades. Shakspeare, in all probability, was a Catholic; Milton has evidently imitated some parts of the poems of St. Avitus and Masenius; Klopstock has borrowed very largely from the faith of Rome. In our own days, in Germany, the high imaginative powers have been put forth only when the spirit of Protestantism had begun to decline. It was in treating Catholic subjects that the genius of Goethe and Schiller was manifested; Rousseau and Madame de Staël are, indeed, illustrious exceptions to this rule; but were they Protestants after the model of the first disciples of Calvin? At this very day, painters, architects, and sculptors, of all the conflicting creeds, go to seek inspiration at Rome, where they find universal toleration. Europe, nay, the whole world, is covered with monuments of the Catholic religion. To it we are indebted for that Gothic architecture, which rivals in its details, and eclipses in its magnificence, the monuments of Greece. It is now three centuries since Protestantism arose, – it is powerful in England, in Germany, in America, – it is professed by millions of men, – and what has it erected? It can show only the ruins it has made; on which perhaps, it has planted gardens or built factories. Rebelling against the authority of tradition, the experience of centuries, and the venerable wisdom of ages, Protestantism let go its hold on the past, and planted a society without roots. Acknowledging for their founder a German monk of the sixteenth century, the reformers renounced the wonderful genealogy that unites Catholics, through a succession of great and holy men, with Jesus Christ Himself, and, through Him, with the patriarchs and the earliest of mankind. The Protestant era, from the first hours of its existence, refused all relationship with the era of that Leo who protected the civilized world against Attila, and also with the era of that other Leo, at whose coming barbarism vanished, and society, now no longer in need of defence, put on the ornaments of civilization." (Etud. Histor., François I.)

It is much to be regretted that the author of such noble sentiments, who so accurately describes the effects of Protestantism on literature and the arts, should have said, that "the Reformation was, properly speaking, philosophic truth, under the guise of Christianity, attacking religious truth." (Etud. Histor., Preface.) What is the meaning of these words? We shall best understand them from the illustrious author's own explanation. "Religious truth," says he, "is the knowledge of one God manifested in a form of worship. Philosophic truth is the threefold knowledge of things intellectual, moral, and natural." (Etud. Histor., Exposition.) It is difficult to imagine how any one who admits the truth of the Catholic religion, and, as a necessary consequence, the falsehood of Protestantism, can define the latter to be, philosophic truth at war with religious truth. In the natural, as well as in the supernatural, order of things, in philosophy as in religion, all truths come from God, all end in Him. There cannot, therefore, be any antagonism between truths of one order and truths of another order; between religious and true philosophy, between nature and grace, no antagonism is possible. Truth is that which is; for truth resides in beings themselves; we should rather say, it consists of beings themselves such as they exist, such as they are in their substance; and hence it is quite incorrect to say that philosophic truth has ever stood in antagonism to religious truth.

According to the same author "Philosophic truth is neither more nor less than the independence of the human mind; its tendency being to make discoveries, and lead to perfection in the three sciences that come within its sphere, viz. the intellectual, the moral, and the natural. But philosophic truth," he continues, "looking forwards to the future, has stood in opposition to religious truth, which adheres to the past, owing to the immovable nature of the eternal principle upon which it is founded." (Etud. Histor., Exposition.) With all the respect due to the immortal author of the Génie du Christianisme and of the Martyrs, I must take the liberty to observe, that we find here a lamentable confusion of ideas. The philosophic truth of which M. de Chateaubriand here treats, must be either science itself, considered as an aggregate of truths, or a general knowledge, in which truth and error are commingled; or, in fine, the whole body of men of learning, considered as constituting a very influential class in society. In the first case, it is impossible for philosophic truth to be in antagonism to religious truth, – that is, to Catholicity; in the second case, the alleged opposition is nothing extraordinary, for error being in this case mixed up with truth, will on some points be found to be opposed to Catholic faith; and, finally, as regards the third hypothesis, it is unfortunately too true, that many men, distinguished by their talents and erudition, have been opposed to Catholicity; but, on the other hand, as great a number of men equally eminent have triumphantly maintained the truth of Catholicity; hence it would be extremely illogical to affirm that philosophic truth, even in this sense, is opposed to religious truth.

It is not my wish to give an unfavorable interpretation to the words of the illustrious writer; I rather incline to think, that, in his mind, philosophic truth is nothing but a spirit of independence considered in a general, vague, and undefined sense, and not as applied to any object in particular. This is the only way to reconcile assertions so different; for it is quite clear, that, after he had so severely condemned the Protestant Reformation, the writer could not proceed to admit that this same Reformation carried with it philosophic truth, properly so called, wherein it became opposed to Catholic doctrines. But, in this case, the language of the illustrious author is unquestionably wanting in precision; this, however, need not surprise us, as, upon reflection, we shall find that, in treating historico-philosophical subjects, precision is not to be expected from writers whose genius has been wont to soar into the highest regions on the wings of a sublime poetry.

It was not either in Germany or in England, but in Catholic France, that the philosophical movement advanced with the greatest freedom and daring. Descartes, the founder of a new era in philosophy, that superseded the Aristotelian, and gave a fresh impulse to the study of logic, of physics, and metaphysics, was a Frenchman and a Catholic. The greater part of his most distinguished followers were also in communion with the Roman Church. Philosophy, then, in the highest sense of the word, owes nothing to Protestantism. Before Leibnitz, Germany could scarcely reckon a single philosopher of any note; and the English schools that attained to any thing like celebrity arose after Descartes' time. We shall find, upon reflection, that France was the centre of the philosophical movement from the end of the sixteenth century; and at that period all the Protestant countries were so backward in this kind of study, that the active progress of philosophy amongst the Catholics was scarcely noticed by them. In like manner, it was in the bosom of the Catholic Church that the taste arose for profound meditations on the secrets of the heart, and on the relations of the human mind to God and nature, and that sublime abstraction which concentrates man's faculties, sets him free from the body, and elevates him to those exalted regions that appear destined to be visited exclusively by celestial spirits. Is not mysticism, in its purest, most refined, and most elevated form, found in our Catholic writers of the golden age? Since that time, what has been published that may not be met with in the works of St. Teresa, in those of St. John of the Cross, in the venerable Avila, in Louis de Grenada, and in Louis de Léon?

And Pascal, that man of thought, one of the most vigorous geniuses of the seventeenth century, who was unhappily deceived for some time by a hypocritical and canting sect, was he a Protestant? Was it not he who laid the basis of that philosophico-religious school, whose investigations, directed at one time to the deepest questions of religion, at another to those of nature, or to the mysteries of the human heart, have surrounded truth with a flood of light? Do not the apologists of Christianity, whether Protestants or Catholics, when engaged in combating indifference or incredulity, avail themselves by preference of his Pensées? Authors who have written on the philosophy of history have perhaps surpassed all others in their eagerness to vilify the Church as the enemy of enlightenment, whilst they represent Protestantism as the great bulwark of the rights of the mind. Now, gratitude alone should have induced them to proceed more circumspectly; they should not forget that the real founder of the philosophy of history was a Catholic, and that the first and best work ever written on this subject came from the pen of a Catholic Bishop. It was Bossuet, in his immortal Discours sur l'Histoire Universelle, who first taught our modern thinkers to take a lofty survey of the human race; to embrace at one view all the events that have marked the course of ages, contemplating them in all their vastness and intimate connection, with all their phases, effects, and causes, and to draw from them salutary lessons for the instruction both of princes and people. Now, Bossuet was a Catholic, and, moreover, one of the most trenchant adversaries of the Protestant Reformation. His fame is heightened too by another work, in which he completely overthrows the doctrines of the innovators, by proving their continual variations, and demonstrating that theirs must be the way of error, seeing that variation is incompatible with truth. We may ask the abettors of Protestantism, if the Eagle of Meaux feels in his flight the fetters of the Catholic religion, when, glancing at the origin and destiny of mankind, at the fall of our first parents and its consequences, on the revolutions of the East and West, he traces with such wonderful sublimity the designs of Divine Providence?

As regards the literary movement, I might almost consider myself relieved from all necessity of combating the reproaches cast upon Catholicity by its enemies. What, in fact, was the literature of all the Protestant countries together, at the time when Italy produced those orators and poets, who, in succeeding ages, have been universally received as models? Various descriptions of literature were already quite common in Catholic countries, that were not even known in England or Germany; and when, at a later period, an attempt was made to fill up the hiatus, no better means could be found for the purpose than to take for models the Spanish writers, who had been subject to Catholic obscurantism and the fires of the Inquisition.

Neither the mind, the heart, nor the imagination of man owes any thing to Protestantism. Before the Reformation these were all in graceful and vigorous progress; after the Reformation, this progress continued in the bosom of the Catholic Church as successfully as before. Catholicity displays a bright array of illustrious men crowned with the glories they have won amidst the unanimous plaudits of all civilized nations. Whatever has been said of the tendency of our religion to enslave and hoodwink the mind, is but calumny. No; that which is born of light, cannot produce darkness; that which is the work of truth itself, need not fly from the sun's rays to conceal itself in the bowels of the earth. The daughter of heaven may walk in the brightness of day, may dare discussion, may gather around her all the brightest intellects; well assured that the more closely and attentively they see and contemplate her, the more pure, the more beauteous and enrapturing will she appear.

CHAPTER LXXIII.

SUMMARY. – DECLARATION OF THE AUTHOR

Having reached the end of my difficult enterprise, let me be allowed to take a retrospective view of the vast space over which I have but just passed, like the traveller who rests after his labor. The fear of seeing religious schism introduced into my country; the sight of the efforts which were made to inculcate Protestant errors amongst us; the perusal of certain writings, wherein it was stated that the pretended Reformation had been favorable to the progress of nations, – such were the motives which inspired me with the idea of undertaking this work. My object was, to show that neither individuals nor society owe any thing to Protestantism, either in a religious, social, political, or literary point of view. I undertook to examine what history tells us, and what philosophy teaches us, on this point. I was not ignorant of the immense extent of the questions which I had to enter upon; I was far from flattering myself that I was able to clear them up in a becoming manner; nevertheless I set forth upon my journey, with that courage which is inspired by the love of truth, and the confidence that one is defending its cause.

When considering the birth of Protestantism, I have endeavored to take as lofty a view as possible. I have rendered to men that justice which is due to them; I have attributed a large portion of the evil to the wretched condition of mankind, to the weakness of our minds, and to that inheritance of perverseness and ignorance which has been transmitted to us by the fall of our first parent. Luther, Calvin, and Zuinglius have disappeared from my eyes; placed in the immense picture of events, they have been viewed by me as small imperceptible figures, whose individuality was far from deserving the importance which was given to them at other periods. Honest in my convictions, and unreserved in my words, I have acknowledged with candor, but with sorrow, that there existed certain abuses, and that these abuses were taken as pretexts when it was wished to break the unity of the faith. I have allowed that a portion of the blame shall also fall upon men; but I have also pointed out, that the more you here lay stress upon the weakness and wickedness of man, the more do you illustrate the providence of Him who has promised to be with His Church till the consummation of ages.

By the aid of reasoning and irrefragable experience, I have proved that the fundamental dogmas of Protestantism show little knowledge of the human mind, and were a fruitful source of errors and catastrophes. Then, turning my attention to the development of European civilization, I have made a continued comparison between Protestantism and Catholicity; and I believe that I may assert, that I have not hazarded any proposition of importance without having supported it by the evidence of historical facts. I have found it necessary to take a survey of all ages, dating from the commencement of Christianity, and to observe the different phases under which civilization has appeared; without this, it would have been impossible to give a complete vindication of the Catholic religion.

The reader may have observed that the prevailing idea of the work is this: "Before Protestantism European civilization had reached all the development which was possible for it; Protestantism perverted the course of civilization, and produced immense evils in modern society; the progress which has been made since Protestantism, has been made not by it, but in spite of it." I have only consulted history, and I have taken extreme care not to pervert it; I have borne in mind this passage of holy writ: "Has God, then, need of thy falsehood?" The documents to which I refer are there; they are to be found in all libraries, ready to answer; read them, and judge for yourselves.

I am not aware, in the multitude of questions which have presented themselves to me, and which it has been indispensable for me to examine, that I have resolved any in a manner not in conformity with the dogmas of the religion which I was desirous of defending. I am not aware that, in any passage of my book, I have laid down erroneous propositions, or expressed myself in ill-sounding terms. Before publishing my work, I submitted it to the examination of ecclesiastical authority; and without hesitation, I complied with the slightest hint on its part, purifying, correcting, and modifying what had been pointed out as worthy of purification, correction, or modification. Notwithstanding that, I submit my whole work to the judgment of the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church; as soon as the Sovereign Pontiff, the Vicar of Jesus Christ upon earth, shall pronounce sentence against any one of my opinions, I will hasten to declare that I consider that opinion erroneous, and cease to profess it.

NOTES

Note 1, p. 26

The History of the Variations is one of those works which exhaust their subject, and which do not admit of reply or addition. If this immortal chef-d'œuvre be read with attention, the cause of Protestantism, with respect to faith, is forever decided: there is no middle way left between Catholicity and infidelity. Gibbon read it in his youth, and he became a Catholic, abandoning the Protestant religion in which he had been brought up. When, at a later period, he left the Catholic Church, he did not become a Protestant, but an unbeliever. My readers will perhaps like to learn from the mouth of this famous writer what he thought of the work of Bossuet, and the effect which was produced on him by its perusal. These are his words: "In the History of the Variations, an attack equally vigorous and well-directed," says he, "Bossuet shows, by a happy mixture of reasoning and narration, the errors, mistakes, uncertainties, and contradictions of our first reformers, whose variations, as he learnedly maintains, bear the marks of error; while the uninterrupted unity of the Catholic Church is a sign and testimony of infallible truth. I read, approved, and believed." (Gibbon's Memoirs.)

Note 2, p. 27

It has been wished to represent Luther to us as a man of lofty ideas, of noble and generous feelings, and as a defender of the rights of the human race. Yet he himself has left us in his writings the most striking testimony of the violence of his character, of his disgusting rudeness, and his savage intolerance. Henry VIII., king of England, undertook to refute the book of Luther called De Captivitate Babylonica; and behold the latter, irritated by such boldness, writes to the king, and calls him sacrilegious, mad, senseless, the grossest of all pigs and of all asses. It is evident that Luther paid but little regard to royalty; he did the same with respect to literary merit. Erasmus, who was perhaps the most learned man of his age, or who at least surpassed all others in the variety of his knowledge, in the refinement and éclat of his mind, was not better treated by the furious innovator, in spite of all the indulgence for which the latter was indebted to him. As soon as Luther saw that Erasmus did not think proper to be enrolled in the new sect, he attacked him with so much violence, that the latter complained of it, saying, "that in his old age he was compelled to contend against a savage beast, a furious wild boar." Luther did not confine himself to mere words; he proceeded to acts. It was at his instigation that Carlostad was exiled from the states of the Duke of Saxony, and was reduced to such misery, that he was compelled to carry wood, and do other similar things, to gain his livelihood. In his many disputes with the Zwinglians, Luther did not belie his character; he called them damned, fools, blasphemers. As he lavished such epithets on his dissenting companions, we cannot be astonished that he called the doctors of Louvain beasts, pigs, Pagans, Epicureans, Atheists; and that he makes use of other expressions which decency will not allow us to cite; and that, launching forth against the Pope, he says, "He is a mad wolf, against whom every one ought to take arms, without waiting even for the order of the magistrates; in this matter there can be no room left for repentance, except for not having been able to bury the sword in his breast;" adding, "that all those who followed the Pope ought to be pursued like bandit-chiefs, were they kings or emperors." Such was the spirit of tolerance which animated Luther. And let it not be imagined that this intolerance was confined to him; it extended to all the party of the innovators, and its effects were cruelly felt. We have an unexceptionable witness of this truth in Melancthon, the beloved disciple of Luther, and one of the most distinguished men that Protestantism has had. "I find myself under such oppression," wrote Melancthon to his friend Camerarius, "that I seem to be in the cave of the Cyclops; it is almost impossible for me to explain to you my troubles; and every moment I feel myself tempted to take flight." "These are," he says, in another letter, "ignorant men, who know neither piety nor discipline; behold what they are who command, and you will understand that I am like Daniel in the lions' den." How, then, can it be maintained that such an enterprise was guided by a generous idea, and that it was really attempted to free the human mind? The intolerance of Calvin, sufficiently shown by the single fact mentioned in the text, is manifested in his works at every page, by the manner in which he treats his adversaries. Wicked men, rogues, drunkards, fools, madmen, furies, beasts, bulls, pigs, asses, dogs, and vile slaves of Satan. Such are the polite terms which abound in the writings of the famous reformer. And how many wretched things of the same kind could I not relate, if I did not fear to disgust my readers!