looking at the nature of the human mind, that we should have had to answer this very difficult question, How is it possible that no sect appeared in that age? I say, then, error having once arisen in the sixteenth century, no matter what may have been its origin, occasion, and pretext – a certain number of followers having assembled around its banner – Protestantism forthwith presents itself before me in all its extent, with its transcendent importance, its divisions, and subdivisions; I see it, with boldness and energy, making a general attack on all the doctrines and discipline taught and observed by the Church. In place of Luther, Zuinglius, and Calvin, let us suppose Arius, Nestorius, and Pelagius; in place of the errors of the former, let them teach the errors of the latter; it will all lead to the same result. The errors will excite sympathy; they will find defenders; they will animate enthusiasts; they will spread, they will be propagated with the rapidity of fire, they will be diffused, they will throw sparks in all directions; they will all be defended with a show of knowledge and erudition; creeds will change unceasingly; a thousand professions of faith will be drawn up; the liturgy will be altered, – will be destroyed; the bonds of discipline will be broken; we shall have to sum up all in one word, Protestantism.
How did it happen that the evil in the sixteenth century was necessarily so extensive, so great, and so important? It was because the society of that time was different from any other that had preceded it; that which at other times would only have produced a partial fire, necessarily caused in the sixteenth century a frightful conflagration. Europe was then composed of a number of immense states, cast, so to speak, in the same mould, resembling each other in ideas, manners, laws and institutions, drawn together incessantly by an active communication which was kept up alternately by rival and common interests; knowledge found in the Latin language an easy means of diffusion; in fine, most important of all, there had become general over all Europe a rapid means of disseminating ideas and feelings, a creation which had flashed from the human mind like a miraculous illumination, a presage of colossal destinies, viz. the press.
Such is the activity of the mind of man, and the ardour with which it embraces all sorts of innovation, that when once the standard of error was planted, a multitude of partisans were sure to rally round it. The yoke of authority once thrown off, in countries where investigation was so active, where so many discussions were carried on, where ideas were in such a state of effervescence, and where all the sciences began to germinate, it was impossible for the restless mind of man to remain fixed on any point, and a swarm of sects was necessarily produced. There is no middle path; either civilized nations must remain Catholic, or run through all the forms of error. If they do not attach themselves firmly to the anchor of truth, we shall see them make a general attack upon it, we shall see them assail it in itself, in all that it teaches, in all that it prescribes. A man of free and active mind will remain tranquil in the peaceful regions of truth, or he will seek for it with restlessness and disquietude. If he find only false principles to rest on, – if he feel the ground move under his feet, he will change his position every moment, he will leap from error to error, and precipitate himself from one abyss to another. To live amid errors, and be contented with them, to transmit error from generation to generation, without modification or change, is peculiar to those who vegetate in debasement and ignorance; there the mind of man is not active, because it is asleep.
From the point of view where we have now placed ourselves, we can see Protestantism such as it is. From this commanding position we see every thing in its place, and it is possible for us to appreciate its dimensions, to perceive its relations, calculate its influence, and explain its anomalies. Men there assume their true position; as they are seen in close proximity with the great mass of events, they appear in the picture as very small figures, for which others may be substituted without inconvenience; which may be placed nearer or farther off, and the features and complexion of which are not of any consequence. Of what importance, then, are the energy of character, the passion, and boldness of Luther, the literary polish of Melancthon, and the sophistical talents of Calvin? We are convinced, that to lay stress upon all this, is to lose our time, and explain nothing.
What were these men, and the other coryphæi of Protestantism? Was there any thing really extraordinary about them? We shall find men like them everywhere. There are some among them who did not surpass mediocrity; and it may be said of almost all, that if they had not obtained an unhappy celebrity, they would hardly have been celebrated at all. Why, then, did they effect such great things? They found a mass of combustibles, and they set them on fire. Certainly this was not difficult, and yet it was all they did. When I see Luther, mad with pride, commit those extravagances which were the subject of so many lamentations on the part of his friends – when I see him grossly insult all who oppose him, put himself in a passion, and vomit forth a torrent of impure words against all those who do not humble themselves in his presence, I am scarcely moved by any other feeling than pity. This man, who had the extraordinary mania of calling himself the Notharius Dei, became delirious; but he breathed, and his breath was followed by a terrible conflagration: it was because a powder-magazine was at hand on which he threw a spark. Nevertheless, like a man blinded by insanity, he cried out, "Behold my power! I breathe, and my breath puts the world in flames!"
But, you will ask me, what was the real influence of abuses? If we take care not to leave the point of view where we now are, we shall see that they were an occasion, and that they sometimes afforded food, but that they did not exercise all the influence which has been attributed to them. Do I wish, then, to deny, or to excuse them? Not at all. I can appreciate the complaints of some men, who are worthy of the most profound respect; but while lamenting the evil, these men never pretended to detail the consequences. The just man when he raises his voice against vice, the minister of the sanctuary when he is burning with zeal for the house of the Lord, express themselves in accents so loud and vehement, that they must not always be taken literally. Their whole hearts are opened, and, inflamed as they are with a zealous love of justice, they make use of burning words. Men without faith interpret their expressions maliciously, exaggerating and misrepresenting them.
It appears to me to be clear, from what I have just shown, that the principal cause of Protestantism is not to be found in the abuses of the middle ages. All that can be said is, that they afforded opportunities and pretexts for it. To assert the contrary would be to maintain that there were always numerous abuses in the Church from the beginning, even in the time of her primitive fervor, and of that proverbial purity of which our opponents have said so much; for even then there were swarms of sects who protested against her doctrines, denied her divine authority, and called themselves the true Church. The case is the same, and the inference cannot be denied. If you allege the extent and rapid propagation of Protestantism, I will remind you that such was also the case with other sects; I will repeat to you the words of St. Jerome, with regard to the ravages of Arianism: "All the world groans, and is full of astonishment at finding itself Arian." I will repeat, again, that if you observe any thing remarkable and peculiar belonging to Protestantism, it ought not to be attributed to abuses, but to the epoch when it appeared.
I believe I have said enough to give an idea of the influence which abuses could exert; yet, as it is a subject which has occupied much attention, and on which many mistakes have been made, it will be well to revert to it once more, to make our ideas on the subject still clearer. That lamentable abuses had crept in during the course of the middle ages, that the corruption of manners had been great, and that, consequently, reform was required, is a fact which cannot be denied. This fact is proved to us, with respect to the eleventh and twelfth centuries, by irreproachable witnesses, such as St. Peter Damien, St. Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. Some centuries later, even after many abuses had been corrected, they were still but too considerable, as is witnessed by the complaints of men who were inflamed with a desire of reform. We cannot forget the alarming words addressed by Cardinal Julian to Pope Eugenius IV., on the subject of the disorders of the clergy, especially those of Germany.
Having fully avowed the truth on this point, and my opinion that the cause of Catholicity does not require dissimulation or falsehood to defend it, I shall devote a few words to examining some important questions. Are we to blame the court of Rome or the bishops for these great abuses? I venture to think that they were to be attributed to the evils of the time alone. Let us call to mind the events
