Protestantism and Catholicity
- -
- 100%
- +
To say that society in its infancy and youth may have required this authority as a check, but that this check has become useless and degrading since the human mind has reached a higher degree of development, is completely to mistake the connection which exists between the various conditions of our mind and the objects over which this authority extends. The true idea of God, the origin, the end, and the rule of human conduct, together with all the means with which God has furnished us to attain to our high destiny, such are the subjects with which faith deals, and with respect to which Catholics contend that it is necessary to have an infallible rule. They maintain that without this it would be impossible to avoid the most lamentable errors, and to protect truth from the effects of human passions.
This consideration will suffice to show, that private judgment would be much less dangerous among nations still less advanced in the career of civilization. There is, indeed, in a young nation, a great fund of natural candor and simplicity, which admirably disposes it to receive with docility the instructions contained in the sacred volume. Such a people will relish those things which are easily to be understood, and will bow with humility before the sublime obscurity of those pages which it has pleased God to cover with a veil of mystery. Moreover, the condition of this people, as yet exempt from the pride of knowledge, would create a sort of authority, since there would be found within its bosom only a small number of men able to examine divine revelation; and thus a centre for the distribution of instruction would be naturally formed.
But it is far otherwise with a nation far advanced in the career of knowledge. With the latter, the extension of knowledge to a greater number of individuals, by augmenting pride and fickleness, multiplies sects, and ends by revolutionizing ideas and corrupting the purest traditions. A young nation is devoted to simple occupations; it remains attached to its ancient customs; it listens with respect and docility to the aged, who, surrounded by their children and grand-children, relate with emotion the histories and the maxims which they have received from their ancestors. But when society has reached a great degree of development, when respect for the fathers of families and veneration for gray hairs have become weakened; when pompous titles, scientific display, and grand libraries make men conceive a high idea of their intellectual powers; when the multitude and activity of communications widely diffuse those ideas, which, when put in motion, have an almost magical power of affecting men's minds, then it is necessary, – it is indispensable to have an authority, always living, always ready to act whenever it is wanted, – to cover with a protecting ægis the sacred deposit of truths which are the same in all times and places; truths without the knowledge of which man would be left to the mercy of his own errors and caprices from the cradle to the grave; truths on which society rests as its surest foundation; truths which cannot be destroyed without shaking to pieces the whole social edifice. The literary and political history of Europe for the last three hundred years affords but too many proofs of this. Religious revolution broke out at the moment when it was capable of doing the most harm: it found society agitated by all the activity of the human mind, and it destroyed the control when it was most necessary.
Undoubtedly, it is necessary to guard against depreciating the mind of man by charging it with faults which it has not, or by exaggerating those which it has; but it is no less improper to puff it up by exalting its strength too much. The latter would be injurious to it in several ways, and would be little likely to advance its progress; it would also, if properly understood, be little conformable to that gravity and discretion which ought to distinguish true science. Indeed, to merit the name, science ought to show the folly of being vain of what does not rightly belong to it; it ought to know its limits, and have sufficient candor and generosity to acknowledge its weakness.
There is a fact in the history of science, which, by revealing the intrinsic weakness of the mind, palpably shows the flattery of those unmeasured eulogies which are sometimes lavished on it, and also demonstrates to us how dangerous it would be to abandon it to itself without any guide. This fact is, the obscurity which increases in proportion as we approach the first principles of science; so that even in those sciences the truth, evidence, and exactness of which are considered the best established, it seems that no firm ground is to be obtained when we attempt to go to the bottom of them; and the mind, not finding any security, recoils in the fear of meeting with something to throw doubt and uncertainty on the truths of which it was convinced.
I do not participate in the ill-humor of Hobbes against the mathematics. Devoted to their progress, and deeply convinced as I am of the advantages which their study confers on the other sciences and on society, I shall not attempt to underrate their merit, or deny any of their great claims; but who can say that they are an exception to the general rule? Have they not their weak points and their darksome paths?
It is true that, when we confine ourselves to the explanation of the first principles of these sciences, and the deduction from them of the most elementary propositions, the mind is on firm ground, where no fear of making a false step occurs to it. I put aside at present the obscurity which would be found in ideology and metaphysics, if they were to discuss certain points according to the writings of the most distinguished philosophers. Let us confine ourselves to the circle to which the mathematics are naturally confined. Who that has studied them is ignorant that you may reach a point in their theories, where the mind finds nothing but obscurity? The demonstration is before our eyes; it has been developed in all its parts; and yet the mind wavers, feeling within itself a kind of uncertainty which it cannot well describe. It sometimes happens that, after reasoning a long time, the truth rushes upon us like the light of day; but it is not until we have walked in darkness for a long period. When we fix our attention upon those thoughts which wander in our minds like moving lights, on those almost imperceptible emotions which, on these occasions, arise, and then die away in the soul, we observe that the mind, in the midst of its fluctuations, seeks instinctively for the anchor which is to be found in the authority of another. To reassure ourselves completely, we then invoke the authority of some great mathematicians, and we rejoice that the fact is placed beyond a doubt by the series of great men who have always viewed it in the same light. But perhaps our ignorance and pride will not admit the truth of these reflections. Let us, then, study these sciences, or at least read their history, and we shall be convinced that they afford numerous proofs of the weakness of the intellect.
Did not the extraordinary invention of Newton and Leibnitz find many opponents in Europe? Were there not required to establish it, both the sanction of time and the touchstone of experience, which made manifest the truth of their principles and the exactness of their reasonings? Do you believe that, if this invention were again, for the first time, to make its appearance in the field of science, even fortified with all the proofs which have been brought forward to strengthen it, and surrounded with all the light which so many explanations have shed upon it, – do you believe, I say, that it would not need a second time the right of prescription, to regain its tranquil and undisturbed empire?
It is easy to suppose that the other sciences have no little share in this uncertainty arising from the weakness of the human mind; as I do not imagine that this assertion will be called in question, I pass on to a few remarks on the peculiar character of the moral sciences.
The fact has not been sufficiently attended to, that there is no study more deceptive than that of the moral sciences; I say deceptive, because this study, seducing the mind by an appearance of facility, draws it into difficulties which it is no easy matter to overcome. It may be compared to those tranquil waters which, although apparently but shallow, are in reality unfathomably deep. Familiarized from our infancy with the language of this science, surrounded by its continual applications, and having before our eyes its truths under a palpable form, we possess a certain facility of speaking readily on many parts of the subject; and we have the rashness to suppose that it would not be difficult to master its highest principles and its most delicate relations. But wonderful as it is, scarcely have we quitted the path of common sense, and attempted to go beyond those simple impressions which we have received from our mothers, when we find ourselves in a labyrinth of confusion. If the mind gives itself up to subtilties, it ceases to listen to the voice of the heart, which speaks to it with equal simplicity and eloquence; if it does not repress its pride, and attend to the wise counsels of good sense, it will be guilty of despising those salutary and necessary truths, which have been preserved by society to be transmitted from generation to generation: it is then, while groping its way in the dark, that it falls into the wildest extravagances, the lamentable effects of which are so often exemplified in the history of the sciences.
If we observe attentively, we shall find something of the same kind in all the sciences. The Creator has taken care to supply us with knowledge necessary for the purposes of life, and for the attainment of our destiny; but it has not pleased Him to gratify our curiosity by discovering to us what was not necessary. Nevertheless, in some things He has communicated to the mind a power which renders it capable of constantly adding to its knowledge; but, with respect to moral truths, it has been left sterile. What man is required to know, has been deeply engraven on his heart, in characters simple and intelligible; or is contained in the sacred volume; and moreover, he has had pointed out to him, in the authority of the Church, a fixed rule, to which he can apply to have his doubts explained. With respect to the rest, man has been placed in such a position, that if he attempt to enter into matters which are too subtle, he only wanders backwards and forwards in the same road, at the extremities of which he finds on the one side skepticism, on the other pure truth.
Perhaps some modern ideologists will urge, in opposition to this, the result of their own analytical labours. "Before men began to analyze facts," they will say, "and while they indulged in fanciful systems, and satisfied themselves with verbal disputes without critical examination, all this might be true; but now that we have explained all the ideas of moral good and evil, in so perfect a way, and have separated the prejudice in them from the true philosophy; now that the whole system of morality is based upon the simple principles of pleasure and pain, and we have given the clearest ideas of these things, such, for example, as the sensations produced in us by an orange; to maintain your assertion, is to be ungrateful towards science, and to underrate the fruit of our labours."
I am aware of the labours of some moral ideologists, and I know with what deceptive simplicity they develop their theories, by giving to the most difficult things an easy turn, which affects to make them intelligible to the most limited minds. This is not the place to examine these analytical investigations, and their results. I shall, however, remark that, in spite of their promised simplicity, it does not appear that either society or science makes much progress through their means, and that these opinions, although but a short time broached, are already superannuated. This is not a matter of astonishment to us; for it was easy to perceive that, in spite of their positiveness, if I may be allowed to use the expression, these ideologists are as hypothetical as many of their predecessors, who are loaded by them with sarcasms and contempt. They are a poor, narrow-minded school, devoid of the truth, and not even adorned by the brilliant dreams of great men; a proud and deluded school, who fancy they explain a fact, when they only obscure it; and prove a thing, when they only assert it; and imagine that they analyze the human heart, when they take it to pieces.
If such is the human mind; if such is its inability in matters of science, whether physical or moral, that it has not advanced a single step beyond the limit prescribed by a beneficent Providence; what service has Protestantism rendered to modern society, by impairing the force of authority, that power which could alone present an effectual barrier to man's unhappy wanderings?9
CHAPTER VII.
INDIFFERENCE AND FANATICISM
In rejecting the authority of the Church, and in adopting this resistance as its only principle, Protestantism was compelled to seek its whole support in man; thus to mistake the true character of the human mind, and its relations with religious and moral truth, was to throw itself, according to circumstances, into the opposite extremes of fanaticism and indifference.
It may seem strange that these opposite errors should emanate from the same source; and yet nothing is more certain. Protestantism, by appealing to man alone in religious matters, had only two courses to adopt; either to suppose men to be inspired by Heaven for the discovery of truth, or to subject all religious truths to the examination of reason. To submit religious truths to the judgment of reason was sooner or later to produce indifference; on the other hand, private inspiration must engender fanaticism.
There is a universal and constant fact in the history of the human mind – viz. its decided inclination to invent systems in which the reality of things is completely laid aside, and where we only see the workings of a spirit which has chosen to quit the ordinary path in order to give itself up to its own inspirations. The history of philosophy is little else than a perpetual repetition of this phenomenon, which the human mind shows, in some shape or other, in all things which admit of it. When the mind has conceived a peculiar idea, it regards it with that blind and exclusive predilection which is found in the love of the father for his children. Under the influence of this prejudice, the mind developes its ideas and accommodates facts to suit it; that which at first was only an ingenious and extravagant idea, becomes the germ of important doctrines; and if it arise in a person of an ardent disposition, fanaticism, the cause of so much madness, is the consequence.
The danger is very much increased when the new system applies to religious matters, or is immediately connected with them. The extravagances of a diseased mind are then looked upon as inspirations from Heaven; the fever of delirium as a divine flame; and a mania of being singular as an extraordinary vocation. Pride, unable to brook opposition, rises against all that it finds established; it insults all authority; it attacks all institutions; it despises everybody; it conceals the grossest violence under the mantle of zeal, and ambition under the name of apostleship. The dupe of himself rather than an impostor, the wretched maniac sometimes becomes deeply persuaded that his doctrines are true, and that he has received the commands of Heaven. As there is something extraordinary and striking in the fiery language of the madman, he communicates to those who listen to him a portion of his insanity, and makes, in a short time, a considerable number of proselytes. The men capable of playing the first part in this scene of madness are not numerous, it is true; but unhappily the majority of men are foolish enough to be easily led away. History and experience sufficiently prove that the crowd are easily attracted, and that to form a party, however criminal, extravagant, or ridiculous, it is only necessary to raise a standard.
I wish to take this opportunity of making an observation which I have never seen pointed out – viz. that the Church, in her contest with heresy, has rendered an important service to the science which devotes itself to the examination of the true character, tendency, and power of the human mind. The zealous guardian of all great truths, she has always known how to preserve them unimpaired; she was fully acquainted with the weakness of the mind of man, and its extreme proneness to folly and extravagance; she has followed it closely in all its steps, has watched it in all its movements, and has constantly resisted it with energy, when it attempted to pollute the pure fountain of which she is the guardian. During the long and violent contests which she has had with it, the Church has made manifest its incurable folly; she has exhibited it on every side, and has shown it in all its forms. Thus it is that, in the history of heresies, she has made an abundant collection of facts, and has painted an extremely interesting picture of the human mind, where its characteristic physiognomy is faithfully represented; a picture which will doubtless be of great service in the composition of the important work which is yet unwritten – viz. the true history of the human mind.10
Certain it is that the ravings and extravagances of fanaticism have not been wanting in the history of Europe for the last three hundred years. Their monuments still remain; in whatever direction we turn our steps, we find bloody traces of the fanatical sects produced by Protestantism, and engendered by its fundamental principle. Nothing could confine this devastating torrent, neither the violent character of Luther, nor the furious efforts which he made to oppose every one who taught doctrines different from his own. Impiety succeeded impiety, extravagance extravagance, fanaticism fanaticism. The pretended Reformation was soon divided into as many sects as there were found men with the ingenuity to invent and the boldness to maintain a system of their own. This was necessarily the case; for besides the danger of leaving the human mind without a guide on all questions of religion, there was another cause fruitful in fatal results, I mean the private interpretation of the sacred books.
It was then found that the best things may be abused, and that these divine volumes, which contain so much instruction for the mind, and so much consolation for the heart, are full of danger to the proud. How great will this be, if you add to the obstinate resolution of resisting all authority in matters of faith, the false persuasion that the meaning of the Scriptures is everywhere clear, and that, in all cases, the inspirations of Heaven may be expected to solve every doubt? What will happen to those who turn over their pages with a longing desire to find some text which, more or less tortured, may seem to authorize their sophisms, subtilties, and absurdities?
There never was a greater mistake than that which was committed by the Protestant leaders, when they placed the Bible in the hands of all for self-interpretation; never was the nature of that sacred volume more completely lost sight of. It is true that Protestantism had no other method to pursue, and that every objection which it could make to the private interpretation of the sacred text would be a striking inconsistency, an apostasy from its own principles, and a denial of its own origin; but at the same time, this is its most decided condemnation. What claim, indeed, can that religion have to truth and sanctity whose fundamental principle contains the germ of sects the most fanatical – the most injurious to society?
It would be difficult to collect into so narrow a space, in opposition to this essential error of Protestantism, so many facts and convincing proofs of this, as are contained in the following lines, written by a Protestant, O'Callaghan, which, I have no doubt, my readers will thank me for quoting here. "Led away," says O'Callaghan, "by their spirit of opposition to the Church of Rome, the first Reformers loudly proclaimed the right of interpreting the Scriptures according to each one's private judgment; but in their eagerness to emancipate the people from the authority of the Pope, they proclaimed this right without explanation or restriction: and the consequences were fearful. Impatient to undermine the papal jurisdiction, they maintained without exception, that each individual has an incontestable right to interpret the Scriptures for himself; and as this principle, carried to the fullest extent, was not sustainable, they were obliged to rely for support upon another, viz. that the Bible is an easy book, within the comprehension of all minds, and that the divine revelations contained in it are always clear to all; two propositions which, whether we consider them together or apart, cannot withstand a serious attack.
"The private judgment of Muncer found in the Scriptures that titles of nobility and great estates are impious usurpations, contrary to the natural equality of the faithful, and he invited his followers to examine if this were not the case. They examined into the matter, praised God, and then proceeded by fire and sword to extirpate the impious and possess themselves of their properties. Private judgment made the discovery in the Bible that established laws were a permanent restriction on Christian liberty; and, behold, John of Leyden, throwing away his tools, put himself at the head of a mob of fanatics, surprised the town of Munster, proclaimed himself king of Sion, and took fourteen wives at a time, asserting that polygamy is Christian liberty, and the privilege of the saints. But if the criminal madness of these men in another country is afflicting to the friends of humanity and of real piety, certainly the history of England, during a great part of the seventeenth century, is not calculated to console them. During that period an immense number of fanatics appeared, sometimes together and sometimes in succession, intoxicated with extravagant doctrines and mischievous passions, from the fierce ravings of Fox to the more methodical madness of Barclay; from the formidable fanaticism of Cromwell to the silly profanity of 'Praise God Barebones.' Piety, reason, and good sense seemed to be extinct on earth, and to be succeeded by an extravagant jargon, a religious frenzy, and a zeal without discretion. All quoted the Scriptures, all pretended to have had inspirations, visions, and spiritual ecstasies, and all, indeed, had equal claims to them. It was strongly maintained that it was proper to abolish the priesthood and the royal dignity, because priests were the ministers of Satan, and kings the delegates of the whore of Babylon, and that the existence of both were inconsistent with the reign of the Redeemer. The fanatics condemned science as a Pagan invention, and universities as seminaries of antichristian impiety. Bishops were not protected by the sanctity of their functions, or kings by the majesty of the throne; both, as objects of contempt and hatred, were mercilessly put to death by these fanatics, whose only book was the Bible, without note or comment. During this time, the enthusiasm for prayer, preaching, and the reading of the sacred books was at the highest point; everybody prayed, preached, and read, but nobody listened. The greatest atrocities were justified by the Scriptures; in the most ordinary transactions of life, scriptural language was made use of; national affairs, foreign and domestic, were discussed in the phraseology of Holy Writ. There were scriptural plots, conspiracies, and proscriptions; and all this was not only justified but even sanctified by quotations from the word of God. These facts, attested by history, have often astonished and alarmed men of virtue and piety, but the reader, too much imbued with his own ideas, forgets the lesson to be learnt by this fatal experience; namely, that the Bible without note or comment was not intended to be read by rude and ignorant men.
"The majority of mankind must be content to receive the instructions of others, and are not enabled to trust themselves. The most important truths in medicine, in jurisprudence, in physics, in mathematics, must be received from those who drink at the fountain head. The same plan has in general been pursued with respect to Christianity; and whenever the departure from it has been wide enough, 'society has been shaken to its foundation.'"