CHAPTER XXVI.
VIRGINITY IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT
We have seen, in the fifteenth chapter, with what jealousy Catholicity endeavors to veil the secrets of modesty; with what perseverance she imposes the restraint of morality on the most impetuous passion of the human heart. She shows us all the importance which belongs to the contrary virtue, by crowning with peerless splendor the total abstinence from sensual pleasure, viz. virginity. Frivolous minds, and principally those who are inspired by a voluptuous heart, do not understand how much Catholicity has thus contributed to the elevation of woman; but such will not be the case with reflecting men who are capable of seeing that all that tends to raise to the highest degree of delicacy the feeling of modesty, all that fortifies morality, all that contributes to make a considerable number of women models of the most heroic virtue, equally tends to place women above the atmosphere of gross passion. Woman then ceases to be presented to the eyes of man as the mere instrument of pleasure; none of the attractions with which nature has endowed her are lost or diminished, and she has no longer to dread becoming an object of contempt and disgust, after having been the unhappy victim of profligacy.
The Catholic Church is profoundly acquainted with these truths; and while she watched over the sanctity of the conjugal tie, while she created in the bosom of the family this admirable dignity of the matron, she covered with a mysterious veil the countenance of the Christian virgin, and she carefully guarded the spouses of the Lord in the seclusion of the sanctuary. It was reserved for Luther, the gross profaner of Catharine de Boré, to act in defiance of the profound and delicate wisdom of the Church on this point. After the apostate monk had violated the sacred seal set by religion on the nuptial bed, his was the unchaste hand to tear away the sacred veil of virgins consecrated to God: it was worthy of his hard heart to excite the cupidity of princes, to induce them to seize upon the possessions of these defenceless virgins, and expel them from their abodes. See him everywhere excite the flame of sensuality, and break through all control. What will become of virgins devoted to the sanctuary? Like timid doves, will they not fall into the snares of the libertine? Is this the way to increase the respect paid to the female sex? Is this the way to increase the feeling of modesty and to advance humanity? Was this the way in which Luther gave a generous impulse to future generations, perfected the human mind, and gave vigor and splendor to refinement and civilization? What man with a tender and sensitive heart can endure the shameless declamation of Luther, especially if he has read the Cyprians, the Ambroses, the Jeromes, and the other shining lights of the Catholic Church, on the sublime honor of the Christian virgin? Who, then, will object to see, during ages when the most savage barbarism prevailed, those secluded dwellings where the spouses of the Lord secured themselves from the dangers of the world, incessantly employed in raising their hands to heaven, to draw down upon the earth the dews of divine mercy? In times and countries the most civilized, how sad is the contrast between the asylums of the purest and loftiest virtue, and the ocean of dissipation and profligacy! Were these abodes a remnant of ignorance, a monument of fanaticism, which the coryphæi of Protestantism did well to sweep from the earth? If this be so, let us protest against all that is noble and disinterested; let us stifle in our hearts all enthusiasm for virtue; let every thing be reduced to the grossest sensuality; let the painter throw away his pencil, the poet his lyre; let us forget our greatness and our dignity; let us degrade ourselves, saying, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die!"
No; true civilization can never forgive Protestantism for this immoral and impious work; true civilization can never forgive it for having violated the sanctuary of modesty and innocence, for having employed all its efforts to destroy respect for virginity; thus treading under foot a doctrine professed by all the human race. It did not respect what was venerated by the Greeks in the priestesses of Ceres, by the Romans in their vestals, by the Gauls in their druidesses, by the Germans in their prophetesses. It has carried the want of respect for modesty farther than was ever done by the dissolute nations of Asia, and the barbarians of the new world. It is certainly a disgrace for Europe to have attacked what was respected in all parts of the world, to have treated as a mistaken prejudice the universal belief of the human race, sanctioned, moreover, by Christianity. What invasion of barbarians was equal to this attack of Protestantism on all that ought to be most inviolable among men? It has set the fatal example in modern revolutions of the crimes which have been committed.
When we see, in warlike rage, the barbarity of the conquerors remove all restraint from a licentious soldiery, and let them loose against the abodes of virgins consecrated to God, there is nothing but what may be conceived. But when these holy institutions are persecuted by system, when the passions of the populace are excited against them, by grossly assailing their origin and object, this is more than brutal and inhuman. It is a thing which cannot be described, when those who act in this way boast of being Reformers, followers of the pure Gospel, and proclaim themselves the disciples of Him who, in His sublime councils, has pointed out virginity as one of the noblest virtues that can adorn the Christian's crown. Now, who is ignorant that this was one of the works to which Protestantism devoted itself with the greatest ardor?
Woman without modesty will be an incentive to sensuality, but will never attract the soul by the mysterious feeling which is called love. It is very remarkable, that although the most urgent desire of the heart of woman is to please, yet as soon as she forgets modesty she becomes displeasing and disgusting. Thus it is wisely ordained that what wounds her heart the most sharply, becomes the punishment of her fault. Hence, every thing that maintains in woman the delicate feeling of modesty, elevates her, adorns her, gives her greater ascendency over the heart of man, and creates for her a distinguished place in the domestic as well as in the social order. These truths were not understood by Protestantism when it condemned virginity. It is true this virtue is not a necessary condition of modesty, but it is its beau idéal and type of perfection; and certainly we cannot destroy this model, by denying its beauty, by condemning its imitation as injurious, without doing great injury to modesty itself, which, continually struggling against the most powerful passion of the heart of man, cannot be preserved in all its purity, unless it be accompanied by the greatest precautions. Like a flower of infinite delicacy, of ravishing colours, of the sweetest perfume, it can scarcely support the slightest breath of wind; its beauty is destroyed with extreme facility, and its perfume readily evaporates.
But you will perhaps urge against virginity the injury which it does to population; you will consider the offerings which are made on the altar by this virtue as so much taken from the multiplication of the human race. Fortunately the observations of the most distinguished political economists have destroyed this delusion, originated by Protestantism, and supported by the incredulous philosophy of the 18th century. Facts have shown, in a convincing manner, two truths of equal importance in vindicating Catholic doctrines and institutions; 1, that the happiness of nations is not necessarily in proportion to the increase of their population; 2, that the augmentation and diminution of the population depend on many concurrent causes; that religious celibacy, if it be among them, has an insignificant influence.
A false religion and an illegitimate and egotistical philosophy have attempted to assimilate the secrets of this increase of the human race to that of other living beings. All idea of religion has been taken away; they have seen in humanity only a vast field where nothing was to be left sterile. Thus they have prepared the way for the doctrine which considers individuals as machines from which all possible profit should be drawn. No more was thought of charity, or the sublime instructions of religion with respect to the dignity and destinies of man; thus industry has become cruel, and the organization of labor, established on a basis purely material, increases the present, but fearfully menaces the future well-being of the rich.
How profound are the designs of Providence! The nation which has carried these fatal principles to the fullest extent now finds itself overcharged with men and products. Frightful misery devours her most numerous classes, and all the ability of her rulers will not be able to avoid the rock she is running on, urged by the power of the elements to which she has abandoned herself. The eminent professors of Oxford who, it seems, begin to see the radical vices of Protestantism, would find here a rich subject for meditation, if they would examine how far the pretended reformers of the 16th century have contributed, in preparing the critical situation in which England finds herself, in spite of her immense progress.
In the physical world all is disposed by number, weight, and measure; the laws of the universe show infinite calculation – infinite geometry; but let us not imagine that we can express all by our imperfect signs, and include every thing in our limited combinations; let us, above all, avoid the foolish error of assimilating too much the moral and the physical world – of applying indiscriminately to the first what only belongs to the second, and of upsetting by our pride the mysterious harmony of the creation. Man is not born simply for multiplication of his species; this is not the only part which he is intended to perform in the great machine of the universe; he is a being according to the image and likeness of God – a being who has his proper destiny – a destiny superior to all that surrounds him on earth. Do not debase him, do not level him with the earth, by inspiring him with earthly thoughts alone; do not oppress his heart, by depriving him of noble and elevated sentiments – by leaving him no taste for any but material enjoyments. If religious thoughts lead him to an austere life – if the inclination to sacrifice the pleasures of this life on the altar of the God whom he adores takes possession of his heart – why should you hinder him? What right have you to despise a feeling which certainly requires greater strength of mind than is necessary for abandoning one's self to pleasure?
These considerations, which affect both sexes, have still greater force when they are applied to the female. With her lively imagination, her feeling heart, and ardent mind, she has greater need than man of serious inspiration, of grave, solemn thoughts, to counterbalance the activity with which she flies from object to object, receiving with extreme facility impressions of every thing she touches, and, like a magnetic agent, communicating them in her turn to all that surrounds her. Allow, then, a portion of that sex to devote itself to a life of contemplation and austerity; allow young girls and matrons to have always before their eyes a model of all the virtues – a sublime type of their noblest ornament, which is modesty. This will certainly not be without utility. Be assured, these virgins are not taken away from their families, nor from society – both will recover with usury what you imagine they have lost.
In fact, who can measure the salutary influence which the sacred ceremonies with which the Catholic Church celebrates the consecration of a virgin to God, must have exercised on female morals! Who can calculate the holy thoughts, the chaste inspirations which have gone forth from those silent abodes of modesty, erected sometimes in solitary places, and sometimes in crowded cities! Do you not believe that the virgin whose heart begins to be agitated by an ardent passion, that the matron who has allowed dangerous feelings to enter her soul, have not often found their passions restrained by the remembrance of a sister, a relative, a friend, who, in one of these silent abodes, raises her pure heart to Heaven, offering as a holocaust to the Divine Son of the blessed Virgin all the enchantments of youth and beauty? All this cannot be calculated, it is true; but this, at least, is certain, that no thought of levity, no inclination to sensuality has arisen therefrom. All this cannot be estimated; but can we estimate the salutary influence exercised by the morning dew upon plants? can we estimate the vivifying effect of light upon nature? and can we understand how the water which filters through the bowels of the earth fertilizes it by producing fruits and flowers?
There is, then, an infinity of causes of which we cannot deny the existence and the power, but which it is nevertheless impossible to submit to rigorous examination. The cause of the impotence of every work exclusively emanating from the mind of man is, that his mind is incapable of embracing the ensemble of the relations which exist in facts of this kind; it is impossible for him to appreciate properly the indirect influences – sometimes hidden, sometimes imperceptible – which act there with an infinite delicacy. This is the reason why time dispels so many illusions, belies so many prognostics, proves the weakness of what was reckoned strong, and the strength of what was considered weak. Indeed, time brings to light a thousand relations, the existence of which was not suspected, and puts into action a thousand causes which were either unknown or despised: the results advance in their development, appearing every day in a more evident manner, until at length we find ourselves in such a situation that we can no longer shut our eyes to the evidence of facts, or any longer evade their force.
One of the greatest mistakes made by the opponents of Catholicity is this. They can only see things under one aspect; they do not understand how a force can act otherwise than in a straight line; they do not see that the moral world, as well as the physical, is composed of relations infinitely varied, and of indirect influences, sometimes acting with more force than if they were direct. All form a system correlative and harmonious, the parts of which it is necessary to avoid separating, more than is absolutely needful for becoming acquainted with the hidden and delicate ties which connect the whole. It is necessary, moreover, to allow for the action of time, that indispensable element in all complete development, in every lasting work.
I trust I shall be pardoned for this short digression, necessary for the inculcation of the great truths which have not been sufficiently attended to in examining the great institutions founded by Catholicity. Philosophy is now compelled to withdraw propositions advanced too boldly, and to modify principles applied too generally. It would have avoided this trouble and mortification by being cautious and circumspect in its investigations. In league with Protestantism, it declared deadly war against the great Catholic institutions; it loudly appealed against moral and religious centralization. And now a unanimous shout is raised from all quarters of the world in favour of the principle of unity. The instinct of nations seeks for it; philosophers examine the secrets of science to discover it. Vain efforts! No other foundation can be established than that which is already laid; duration depends upon solidity.
CHAPTER XXVII.
OF CHIVALRY AND BARBARIAN MANNERS, IN THEIR INFLUENCE ON THE CONDITION OF WOMEN
An indefatigable zeal for the sanctity of marriage, and an anxious solicitude to carry the principle of modesty to the highest degree of delicacy, are the two rules which have guided Catholicity in her efforts for the elevation of woman. These are the two great means she has employed in attaining her object, and hence comes the influence and importance of women in Europe. M. Guizot is, therefore, wrong in saying that "it is to the development, to the necessary preponderance of domestic manners in the feudal system, that this change, this improvement in their condition is chiefly owing." I will not discuss the greater or less influence of the feudal system on the development of European manners. Undoubtedly when the feudal lord "shall have his wife, his children, and scarcely any others in his house, they alone will form his permanent society; they alone will share his interests, his destiny. It is impossible for domestic influence not to acquire great power." (Leçon 4.) But if the lord, returning to his castle, found one wife there, and not many, to what was that owing? Who forbade him to abuse his power by turning his house into a harem? Who bridled his passions and prevented his making victims of his timid vassals? Surely these were the doctrines and morals introduced into Europe, and deeply rooted there by the Catholic Church; it was the strict laws which she imposed as a barrier to the invasions of the passions; therefore, even if we suppose that feudality did produce this good, it is still owing to the Catholic Church.
That which has no doubt tended to exaggerate the influence of feudality in all that raises and ennobles women, is a fact that appears very evidently at that period, and is dazzling at first sight. This is the brilliant spirit of chivalry, which, rising out of the bosom of the feudal system, and rapidly diffusing itself, produced the most heroic actions, gave birth to a literature rich in imagination and feeling, and contributed in great measure to soften and humanize the savage manners of the feudal lords. This period is particularly distinguished for the spirit of gallantry; not the gallantry which consists generally in the tender relations of the two sexes, but a greatly exaggerated gallantry on the part of man, combining, in a remarkable way, the most heroic courage with the most lively faith and the most ardent religion. God and his lady; such is the constant thought of the knight; this absorbs all his faculties, occupies all his time, and fills up all his existence. As long as he can obtain a victory over the infidels, and is supported by the hope of offering at the feet of his lady the trophies of his triumph, no sacrifice costs him any thing, no journey fatigues, no danger affrights, no enterprise discourages him. His excited imagination transports him into a world of fancy; his heart is on fire; he undertakes all, he finishes all; and the man who has just fought like a lion on the plains of Spain, or of Palestine, melts like wax at the name of the idol of his heart; then he turns his eyes amorously towards his country, and is intoxicated with the idea that one day, sighing under the castle of his beloved, he may obtain a pledge of her affection, or a promise of love. Woe to any one who is bold enough to dispute his treasure, or indiscreet enough to fix his eyes on those battlements. The lioness who has been robbed of her cubs is not more terrible, the forest torn to pieces by the hurricane is not more agitated than his heart; nothing can stop his vengeance, he must destroy his rival or die. In examining this mixture of mildness and ferocity, of religion and passion, which, no doubt, has been exaggerated by the fancies of chroniclers and troubadours, but which must have had a real type, we shall observe that it was very natural at that time, and that it is not so contradictory as it appears at first sight. Indeed, nothing was more natural than violent passions among men whose ancestors, not long before, had come from the forests of the north to pitch their bloody tents on the site of ruined cities; nothing was more natural than that there should be no other judge than strength of arm among men whose only profession was war, and who lived in an embryo society, where there was no public law strong enough to restrain private passions. Nothing, too, was more natural to those men than a lively sense of religion, for religion was the only power which they acknowledged; she had enchanted their imaginations by the splendour and magnificence of her temples, by the majesty and pomp of her worship. She had filled them with astonishment, by placing before their eyes the most sublime virtue, by addressing them in language as lofty as it was sweet and insinuating; language, no doubt, imperfectly understood by them, but which, nevertheless, convinced them of the holiness and divinity of the Christian mysteries and precepts, inspired them with respect and admiration, and also exercising a powerful influence on their minds, enkindled enthusiasm and produced heroism. Thus we see that all that was good in this exalted sentiment emanated from religion; if we take away faith, we shall find nothing but the barbarian, who knew no other law than his spear, and no other rule of conduct than the inspirations of his fiery soul.
The more we penetrate into the spirit of chivalry and examine in particular the feelings which it professed towards women, the more we shall see that, instead of raising them, it supposes them already raised and surrounded by respect. Chivalry does not give a new place to women; it finds them already honoured and respected; and indeed, if it were not so, how could it imagine a gallantry so exaggerated, so fantastical? But if we imagine to ourselves the beauty of a virgin covered by the veil of Christian modesty; if we imagine this charm increased by illusion, we shall then understand the madness of the knight. If we imagine, at the same time, the virtuous matron, the companion of man, the mother of a family, the only woman in whom were concentrated all the affections of husband and children, the Christian wife, we shall understand why the knight was intoxicated at the mere idea of obtaining so much happiness, why his love was more than a sensual feeling, it was a respect, a veneration, a worship.
It has been attempted to find the origin of this kind of worship in the manners of the Germans; on the strength of some expressions of Tacitus, the social amelioration of woman's lot has been attributed to the respect with which the barbarians surrounded her. M. Guizot rejects this assertion, and justly combats it by observing that what Tacitus tells us of the Germans was not exclusively applicable to them, since "phrases similar to those of Tacitus, and sentiments and customs analogous to those of the ancient Germans, are met with in the statements of many observers of savage or barbarous nations." Yet in spite of this wise remark, the same opinion has been maintained: it is necessary, then, to combat it again.
The passage of Tacitus is this: "Inesse quin etiam sanctum aliquid et providum putant, nec aut consilia eorum aspernantur, aut responsa negligunt. Vidimus sub Divo Vespasiano Velledam diu apud plerosque numinis loco habitare." (De Mor. Germ.) "They go so far as to think that there is in women something holy and prophetical; they do not despise their counsels, and they listen to their predictions. In the time of the divine Vespasian, we have seen the greater part of them for a long time regard Velleda as a goddess." It seems to me that it is mistaking the passage of Tacitus, to extend its meaning to domestic manners, and to see in it a trait of married life. If we attend to the historian's words, we shall see that such an explanation is far from his idea. His words only relate to the superstition which made the people attribute to some women the prophetic character. Even the example chosen by Tacitus serves to show the truth and justness of this observation. "Velleda," he says, "was regarded as a goddess." In another part of his works, Tacitus explains his idea by telling us, of this same Velleda, "that this girl of the nation of Bructeres enjoyed great power, owing to an ancient custom among the Germans, which made them look upon many women as prophetesses, and, in fine, with the progress of superstition, as real divinities." "Ea virgo nationis Bructeræ late imperitabat, vetere apud Germanos more quo plerasque fœminarum fatidicas et augescente superstitione arbitrantur deas." (Hist. 4.) The text which I have just quoted proves to demonstration that Tacitus speaks of superstition and not of family regulations, very different things; as it might easily happen that some women were regarded as divinities, while the rest of their sex only occupied a place in society inferior to that which belonged to them. At Athens, great importance was given to the priestesses of Ceres; at Rome to the Vestals, the Pythonesses; and the history of the Sibyls shows that it was not peculiar to the Germans to attribute the prophetical character to women. It is not for me now to explain the cause of these facts; it is enough for my purpose to state them; perhaps, on this point, physiology might throw light on the philosophy of history.
When Tacitus, in the same work, describes the severity of the manners of the Germans with respect to marriage, it is easy to observe that the order of superstition and the order of the family were among them very different. We have no longer here any thing of the sanctum et providum; we find only a jealous austerity in maintaining the line of duty; and we see woman, instead of being regarded as a goddess, given up to the vengeance of the husband, if she has been unfaithful. This curious passage proves that the power of man over woman was not much limited by the customs of the Germans. "Accisis crinibus," says Tacitus, "nudatam coram propinquis expellit domo maritus, ac per omnem vicum verbere agit." "After having cut off her hair, the husband drives her from his house in presence of her relations, and beats her with rods ignominiously through the village." Certainly this punishment gives us an idea of the infamy which was attached to adultery among the Germans; but it was little calculated to increase the respect entertained for them publicly; this would have been greater had they been stoned to death.
When we read in Tacitus the description of the social state of the Germans, we must not forget that some traits of their manners are purposely embellished by him, which is very natural for a writer of his sentiments. We must not forget that Tacitus was indignant and afflicted at the sight of the fearful corruption of manners at that time in Rome. He paints, it is true, in glowing colours, the sanctity of marriage among the Germans; but who does not see that, when doing so, he had before his eyes matrons who, according to Seneca, reckoned their years not by the succession of consuls, but by change of husbands, and women without a shadow of modesty, given up to the greatest profligacy? We can easily see to whom he alludes when he makes these severe remarks: "Nemo enim illic vitia ridet, nec corrumpere et corrumpi sæculum vocatur." "There vice is not laughed at, and corruption is not called the fashion." A strong expression, which describes the age, and explains to us the secret joy with which Tacitus cast in the face of Rome, so refined and so corrupted, the pure image of German manners. That which sharpened the raillery of Juvenal andenvenomed his bitter satires, excited the indignation of Tacitus, and drew from his grave philosophy these severe reprimands. Other information which we possess shows us that the pictures of Tacitus are embellished, and that the manners of this people were far from being as pure as he wishes to persuade us. Perhaps they may have been strict with respect to marriage; but it is certain that polygamy was not unknown among them. Cæsar, an eye-witness, relates, that the German king Ariovistus had two wives (De Bello Gallico, l. i.); and this was not a solitary instance, for Tacitus himself tells us that a few of them had several wives at once, not on account of sensuality, but for distinction. "Exceptis admodum paucis, qui non libidine, sed ob nobilitatem, pluribus nuptiis ambiuntur." This distinction, non libidine sed ob nobilitatem, is amusing; but it is clear that the kings and nobles, under one pretence or another, allowed themselves greater liberty than the severe historian would have approved of.
Who can tell what was the state of morality among those forests? If we may be allowed to conjecture by analogy, from the resemblance which may naturally be supposed to exist among the different nations of the North, what an idea might we conceive of it from certain customs of the Britons, who, in bodies of ten or twelve, had their wives in common; chiefly brothers with brothers, and fathers with sons; so that they were compelled to distinguish the families conventionally, by giving the children to him who had first married the woman! It is from Cæsar, an eye-witness, that we also learn this: "Uxores habent (Britanni) deni duodenique inter se communes, et maxime fratres cum fratribus et parentes cum liberis; sed si qui sunt ex his nati, eorum habentur liberi a quibus primum virgines quæque ductæ sunt." (De Bello Gallico, l. v.)
However this may have been, it is at least certain that the principle of monogamy was not so much respected among the Germans as people have been willing to suppose; an exception was made in favour of the nobles, that is, of the powerful; and that was enough to deprive the principle of all its force, and to prepare its ruin. In such a matter, to establish an exception to the law in favour of the powerful, is almost to abrogate it. It may be said, I admit, that the powerful will never want means of violating it; but it is one thing for the powerful to violate the law, and another for the law itself to retire before them, leaving the way open: in the first case, the employment of force does not destroy the law – the very shock which breaks it, makes its existence felt, and visibly shows the wrong and injustice; in the second case, the law prostitutes itself, if I may so speak; the passions have no need of force to open for themselves a passage, the law itself opens the door for them. From that time it remains degraded and disgraced; its own baseness has undermined the moral principle on which it was founded; and, owing to its own fault, it becomes itself the subject of animadversion to those who are still compelled to observe it. Thus the right of polygamy, once recognised among the Germans in favour of the great, must, with time, have become general among the other classes of the people; and it is very probable that this was the case when the conquest of more productive countries, the enjoyment of more genial climates, and some improvement in their social condition furnished them more abundantly with the means of gratifying their inclinations. An evil so great could only be withstood by the inflexible severity of the Catholic Church. Nobles and kings still had a strong inclination towards the privileges which we have seen their predecessors enjoying before they embraced the Christian religion. Thence it came that, in the first centuries after the irruption of the barbarians, the Church had so much trouble in restraining their violent inclinations. Would not those who have endeavored to find among the Germans so large a portion of the constitutive elements of modern civilization have shown more wisdom, if they had recognised, in the manners which we have been examining, one of the causes which made the struggles between the secular princes and the Church so frequent?