Protestantism and Catholicity

These words of O'Callaghan do not require any comment. It cannot be said that they are hyperbolical or declamatory, as they are only a simple and faithful narration of acknowledged facts. The recollection of these events should suffice to prove the danger of placing the sacred Scriptures, without note or comment, into the hands of all, as Protestantism does, under the pretence, that the authority of the Church is useless for understanding the holy books; and that every Christian has only to listen to the dictates which generally emanate from his passions and heated imagination. By this error alone, if it had committed no other, Protestantism is self-reproved and condemned; for it is a religion which has established a principle destructive to itself. In order to appreciate the madness of Protestantism on this point, and to see how false and dangerous is the position which it has assumed with regard to the human mind, it is not necessary to be a theologian, or a Catholic; it is enough to have read the Scriptures with the eyes of a philosopher or a man of literature. Here is a book which comprises, within a limited compass, the period of four thousand years, and advances further towards the most distant future, by embracing the origin and destiny of man and the universe – a book which, with the continued history of a chosen people, intermingles, in its narrations and prophecies, the revolutions of mighty empires – a book which, side by side with the magnificent pictures of the power and splendor of Eastern monarchs, describes, in simple colors, the plain domestic manners, the candor, and innocence of a young nation – a book in which historians relate, sages proclaim their maxims of wisdom, apostles preach, and doctors instruct – a book in which prophets, under the influence of the divine Spirit, thunder against the errors and corruptions of the people, and announce the vengeance of the God of Sinai, or pour forth inconsolable lamentations on the captivity of their brethren, and the desolation and solitude of their country; where they relate, in wonderful and sublime language, the magnificent spectacles which are presented to their eyes; where, in moments of ecstasy, they see pass before them the events of society and the catastrophes of nature, although veiled in mysterious figures and visions of obscurity – a book, or rather a collection of books, where are to be found all sorts of styles and all varieties of narrative, epic majesty, pastoral simplicity, lyric fire, serious instruction, grave historical narrative, and lively and rapid dramatic action; a collection of books, in fine, written at various times and in various languages, in various countries, and under the most peculiar and extraordinary circumstances. Must not all this confuse the heads of men who, puffed up with their own conceit, grope through these pages in the dark, ignorant of climates, times, laws, customs, and manners? They will be puzzled by allusions, surprised by images, deceived by expressions; they will hear the Greek and Hebrew, which was written in those remote ages, now spoken in a modern idiom. What effects must all these circumstances produce on the minds of readers who believe that the Bible is an easy book, to be understood without difficulty by all? Persuaded that they do not require the instructions of others, they must either resolve all these difficulties by their own reflections, or trust to that individual inspiration which they believe will not be wanting to explain to them the loftiest mysteries. Who, after this, can be astonished that Protestantism has produced so many absurd visionaries and furious fanatics?11

CHAPTER VIII.

FANATICISM – ITS DEFINITION. – FANATICISM IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

It would be unjust to charge a religion with falsehood, merely because fanatics are to be found within its bosom. This would be to reject all, because none are to be found exempt from them. A religion, then, is not to be condemned because it has them, but because it produces them, urges them on, and opens a field for them. If we observe closely, we shall find at the bottom of the human heart an abundant source of fanaticism; the history of man affords us many proofs of this incontestable truth. Imagine whatever delusion you please, relate the most extravagant visions, invent the most absurd system, if you only take care to give to all a religious coloring, you may be sure that you will have enthusiastic followers, who will heartily devote themselves to the propagation of your doctrines, and will espouse your cause blindly and ardently; in other words, you will have under your standard a troop of fanatics.

Philosophers have devoted many pages to declamation against fanaticism; they have, as it were, assumed the mission of banishing it from the earth. They have tired mankind with philosophical lectures, and have thundered against the monster with all the vigor of their eloquence. They used the word, however, in so wide a sense as to include all kind of religion. But, if they had confined themselves to attacking real fanaticism, I believe they would have done much better if they had devoted some time to the examination of this matter in an analytic spirit, and had treated it, after so doing, maturely, calmly, and without prejudice.

Inasmuch as these philosophers were aware that fanaticism is a natural infirmity of the human mind, they could, if they were men of sense and wisdom, have had little hope of banishing the accursed monster from the world by reasoning and eloquence; for I am not aware that, up to the present time, philosophy has remedied any of the important evils that afflict humanity. Among the numerous errors of the philosophy of the eighteenth century, one of the principal was the mania for types; there was formed in the mind a type of the nature of man, of society, in a word, of every thing; and every thing that could not be adjusted to this type, every thing that could not be moulded into the required form, was so subjected to the fury of philosophers, as to make it certain, at least, that the want of pliability did not go unpunished.

But do I mean to deny the existence of fanaticism in the world? There is much of it. Do I deny that it is an evil? It is a very great one. Can it be extirpated? It cannot. How can its extent be diminished, its force weakened, and its violence checked? By directing man wisely. Can this be done by philosophy? We shall presently see. What is the origin of fanaticism? We must begin by defining the real meaning of the word. By fanaticism is meant, taking the word in its widest signification, the strong excitement of a mind powerfully acted on by a false or exaggerated opinion. If the opinion be true, if it be confined within just limits, there is no fanaticism; or, if there be any, it is only with respect to the means employed in defending the opinion. But in that case there is an erroneous judgment, since it is believed that the truth of the opinion authorizes the means; that is to say, there is already error or exaggeration. If a true opinion be sustained by legitimate means, if the occasion be opportune, whatever may be the excitement or effervescence of mind, whatever may be the energy of the efforts and the sacrifices made, then there is enthusiasm of mind and heroism of action, but no fanaticism. Were it otherwise, the heroes of all times and countries might be stigmatized as fanatics.

Fanaticism, in this general sense, extends to all the subjects which occupy the human mind; thus there are fanatics in religion, in politics, even in science and literature. Nevertheless, according to etymology and custom, the word is properly applied to religious matters only; therefore the word, when used alone, means fanaticism in religion, whilst, when applied to other things, it is always accompanied by a qualifying epithet; thus we say political fanatics, literary fanatics, &c.

There is no doubt that in religious matters men have a strong tendency to give themselves to a dominant idea, which they desire to communicate to all around them, and propagate everywhere. They sometimes go so far as to attempt this by the most violent means. The same fact appears, to a certain extent, in other matters; but it acquires in religious things a character different from what it assumes elsewhere. It is there that the human mind acquires increased force, frightful energy, and unbounded expansion; there are no more difficulties, obstacles, or fetters; material interests entirely disappear; the greatest sufferings acquire a charm; torments are nothing; death itself is a seductive illusion.

This phenomenon varies with individuals, with ideas, with the manners of the nation in whose bosom it is produced; but at bottom it is always the same. If we examine the matter thoroughly, we shall find that the violences of the followers of Mahomet, and the extravagant disciples of Fox, have a common origin.

It is with this passion as with all others; when they produce great evils, it is because they deviate from their legitimate objects, or because they strive at those objects by means which are not conformable to the dictates of reason and prudence. Fanaticism, then, rightly understood, is nothing but misguided religious feeling; a feeling which man has within him from the cradle to the tomb, and which is found to be diffused throughout society in all periods of its existence. Vain have been the efforts made up to this time to render men irreligious; a few individuals may give themselves up to the folly of complete irreligion; but the human race always protests against those who endeavor to stifle the sentiment of religion. Now this feeling is so strong and active, it exercises so unbounded an influence on man, that no sooner has it been diverted from its legitimate object, and quitted the right path, than it is seen to produce lamentable results; then it is that two causes, fertile in great disasters, are found in combination, complete blindness of the understanding and irresistible energy of the will.

In declaiming against fanaticism, many Protestants and philosophers have thought proper to throw a large share of blame on the Catholic Church; certainly they ought to have been more moderate in this respect if their philosophy had been good. It is true the Church cannot boast of having cured all the follies of man; she cannot pretend to have banished fanaticism so completely as not to have some fanatics among her children; but she may justly boast that no religion has taken more effectual means of curing the evil. It may, moreover, be affirmed, that she has taken her measures so well, that when it does make its appearance, she confines it within such limits that it may exist for a time, but cannot produce very dangerous results.

Its mental errors and delirious dreams, which, if encouraged, lead men to the commission of the greatest extravagances and the most horrible crimes, are kept under control when the mind possesses a salutary conviction of its own weakness and a respect for infallible authority. If they be not extinguished at their birth, at least they remain in a state of isolation, they do not injure the deposit of true doctrine, and the ties which unite all the faithful as members of the same body are not broken. With respect to revelations, visions, prophecies, and ecstasies, as long as they preserve a private character and do not affect the truths of faith, the Church, generally speaking, tolerates them and abstains from interference, leaving the discussion of the facts to criticism, and allowing the faithful an entire liberty of thinking as they please; but if the affair assumes a more important aspect, if the visionary calls in question points of doctrine, she immediately shows her vigilance. Attentive to every voice raised against the instructions of her Divine Master, she fixes an observant eye on the innovator. She examines whether he be a man deceived in matters of doctrine or a wolf in sheep's clothing; she raises her warning voice, she points out to all the faithful the error or the danger, and the voice of the Shepherd recalls the wandering sheep; but if he refuse to listen to her, and prefer to follow his own caprices, she separates him from the flock, and declares him to resemble the wolf. From that moment all those who are sincerely desirous of continuing in the bosom of the Church, can no more be infected with the error.

Undoubtedly, Protestants will reproach Catholics with the number of visionaries who have existed in the Church; they will recall the revelations and visions of a great number of saints who are venerated on our altars; they will accuse us of fanaticism, – a fanaticism, they will say, which, far from being limited in its effects to a narrow circle, has been able to produce the most important results. "Do not the founders of religious orders alone," they will say, "afford us a spectacle of a long succession of fanatics, who, self-deluded, exercised upon others, by their words and example, the greatest fascination that was ever seen?"

As this is not the place to enlarge upon the subject of religious communities, which I propose to do in another part of this work, I shall content myself with the observation, that even supposing that all the visions and revelations of our saints and the heavenly inspirations with which the founders of religious orders believed themselves to have been favored were delusions, our opponents would not be in any way justified in throwing on the Church the reproach of fanaticism. And, first, it is easy to see that, as far as individual visions are concerned, as long as they are thus limited, there may be delusion, or, if you will, fanaticism; but this fanaticism will not be injurious to any one, or create confusion in society. If a poor woman believe herself to be peculiarly favoured by Heaven, if she fancy that she hears the words of the Blessed Virgin, that she converses with angels who bring her messages from God, all this may excite the credulity of some and the raillery of others, but certainly it will not cost society a drop of blood or a tear. As to the founders of religious orders, in what way are they subject to the charge of fanaticism? Let us pass in silence the profound respect which their virtues deserve, and the gratitude which humanity owes them for the inestimable benefits conferred; let us suppose that they were deceived in all their inspirations; we may certainly call this delusion, but not fanaticism. We do not find in them either frenzy or violence; they are men diffident in themselves, who, when they believe that they are called by Heaven to a great design, never commence the work without having prostrated themselves at the feet of the Sovereign Pontiff; they submit to his judgment the rules for the establishment of their orders, they ask his instruction, listen to his decision with docility, and do nothing without having obtained his permission. How, then, do these founders of orders resemble the fanatics, who, putting themselves at the head of a furious multitude, kill, destroy, and leave everywhere behind them traces of blood and ruin? We see in the founders of religious orders men who, deeply impressed with an idea, devote themselves to realize it, however great may be the sacrifice. Their conduct constantly shows a fixed idea, which is developed according to a preconcerted plan, and is always highly social and religious in its object: above all, this is submitted to authority, maturely examined and corrected by the counsels of prudence. An impartial philosopher, whatever may be his religious opinions, may find in all this more or less illusion and prejudice, or prudence and address; but he cannot find fanaticism, for there is nothing there which resembles it.12

CHAPTER IX.

INFIDELITY AND INDIFFERENCE IN EUROPE, THE FRUITS OF PROTESTANTISM

The fanaticism of sects, which is excited, kept alive, and nourished in Europe, by the private judgment of Protestantism, is certainly an evil of the greatest magnitude; yet it is not so mischievous or alarming as the infidelity and religious indifference for which modern society is indebted to the pretended Reformation. Brought on by the scandalous extravagances of so many sects of soi-disant Christians, infidelity and religious indifference, which have their root even in the very principle of Protestantism, began to show themselves with alarming symptoms in the sixteenth century; they have acquired with time great diffusion, they have penetrated all the branches of science and literature, have produced an effect on languages, and have endangered all the conquests which civilization had gained during so many ages.

Even during the sixteenth century, and amid the hot disputes and religious wars which Protestantism had enkindled, infidelity spread in an alarming manner; and it is probable that it was even more common than it appeared to be, as it was not easy to throw off the mask at a period so near to the time when religious convictions had been so deeply rooted. It is very likely that infidelity was propagated disguised under the mantle of the Reformation, and that sometimes enlisting under the banner of one sect and sometimes of another, it labored to weaken them all, in order to set up its own throne on the general ruin of faith.

It does not require a great effort of logic to pass from Protestantism to Deism; from Deism to Atheism, there is but a step; and there must have been, at the time when these errors were broached, a large number of persons with reasoning powers enough to carry them out to the fullest extent. The Christian religion, as explained by Protestants, is only a kind of philosophic system more or less reasonable; as, when fully examined, it has no divine character. How, then, can it govern a reflecting and independent mind? Yes, one glance at the first exhibitions of Protestantism must have been enough to incline all those to religious indifference who, naturally disinclined to fanaticism, had lost the anchor of the Church's authority. When we consider the language and conduct of the sectarian leaders of that time, we are strongly inclined to suspect that they laughed at all Christian faith; that they concealed their indifference or their Atheism under strange doctrines which served as a standard, and that they propagated their writings with very bad faith, while they disguised their perfidious intention of preserving in the minds of their partisans sectarian fanaticism.

Thus, listening to the dictates of good sense, the father of the famous Montaigne, although he had seen as yet only the preludes of the Reformation, said, "that this beginning of evil would easily degenerate into execrable Atheism." A very remarkable testimony, which has been preserved to us by his son himself, who was certainly neither weak nor hypocritical. (Essais de Montaigne, liv. ii. chap. 12.) When this man pronounced so wise a judgment on the real tendency of Protestantism, did he imagine that his own son would confirm the justness of his prediction? Everybody knows that Montaigne was one of the first skeptics that became famous in Europe. It was requisite, at that time, for men to be cautious in declaring themselves Atheists or indifferentists, among Protestants themselves; and it may readily be imagined that all unbelievers had not the boldness of Gruet; yet we may believe the celebrated theologian of Toledo, Chacon, who said at the beginning of the last third of the sixteenth century, "that the heresy of the Atheists, of those who believed nothing, had great strength in France and in other countries."

Religious controversy continued to occupy the attention of all the savants of Europe, and during this time the gangrene of infidelity made great progress. This evil, from the middle of the seventeenth century, assumed a most alarming aspect. Who is not dismayed at reading the profound thoughts of Pascal on religious indifference? and who has not felt, in reading them, the emotion which is caused in the soul by the presence of a dreadful evil?

Things were now much advanced, and unbelievers were not far from being in a position, to take their rank among the schools who disputed for the upper hand in Europe. With more or less of disguise, they had already for a long time shown themselves under the form of Socinianism; but that did not suffice, for Socinianism bore at least the name of a religious sect, and irreligion began to feel itself strong enough to appear under its own name. The last part of the seventeenth century presents a crisis which is very remarkable with respect to religion; – a crisis which perhaps has not been well examined, although it exhibits some very remarkable facts; I allude to a lassitude of religious disputes, marked by two tendencies diametrically opposed to each other, and yet very natural: one towards Catholicity and the other towards Atheism.

Every one knows how much disputing there had been up to this time on religion; religious controversies were the prevailing taste, and it may be said that they formed the principal occupation not only of ecclesiastics, both Catholic and Protestant, but even of the well-educated laity. This taste penetrated the palaces of kings and princes. The natural result of so many controversies was to disclose the radical error of Protestantism: then the mind, which could not remain firm on such slippery ground, was obliged, either to adopt authority, or abandon itself to Atheism or complete indifference. These tendencies made themselves very perceptibly felt; thus it was that at the very time when Bayle thought Europe sufficiently prepared for his infidelity and skepticism, there was going on an animated and serious correspondence for the reunion of the German Protestants with the Catholic Church. Men of education are acquainted with the discussions which took place between the Lutheran Molanus, abbot of Lockum, and Christopher, at first Bishop of Tyna, and afterwards of Newstad. The correspondence between the two most remarkable men at that time in Europe of both communions, Bossuet and Leibnitz, is another monument of the importance of these negotiations. The happy moment was not yet come; political considerations, which ought to have vanished in the presence of such lofty interests, exercised a mischievous influence on the great soul of Leibnitz, and he did not preserve, throughout the progress of the discussions and negotiations, the sincerity, good faith, and elevation of view, which he had evinced at the commencement. The negotiation did not succeed, but the mere fact of its existence shows clearly enough the void which was felt in Protestantism; for we cannot believe that the two most celebrated men of that communion, Molanus and Leibnitz, would have advanced so far in so important a negotiation, unless they had observed among themselves many indications of a disposition to return to the bosom of the Church. Add to this, the declaration of the Lutheran university of Helmstad in favor of the Catholic religion, and the fresh attempts at a reunion made by a Protestant prince, who addressed himself to Pope Clement XI., and you have strong reasons for believing that the Reformation felt itself mortally wounded. If God had been willing to permit that so great a result should appear to have been effected in any way by human means, the deep convictions prevalent among the most distinguished Protestants might perhaps have greatly contributed to heal the wounds which had been inflicted upon religious unity by the revolutionists of the sixteenth century.

But the profound wisdom of God had decided otherwise. In allowing men to pursue their own opposite and perverse inclinations, He was pleased to chastise them by means of their own pride. The tendency towards unity was no longer dominant in the next century, but gave place to a philosophic skepticism, indifferent towards all other religions, but the deadly enemy of the Catholic. It may be said that at that time there was a combination of the most fatal influences to hinder the tendency towards unity from attaining its object. Already were the Protestant sects divided and subdivided into numberless parties, and although Protestantism was thereby weakened, yet, nevertheless, it was diffused over the greater part of Europe; the germ of doubt in religious matters had inoculated the whole of European society. There was no truth which had escaped attack; no error or extravagance which had not had apostles and proselytes; and it was much to be feared that men would fall into that state of fatigue and discouragement which is the result of great efforts made without success, and into that disgust which is always produced by endless disputes and great scandals.