In order to conceive in its full extent the evil caused by Protestantism in this respect, let us imagine for a moment that Protestantism had not appeared; and in this hypothesis, let us make a few reflections on the probable course of events. In the first place, all the strength, genius, and resources which Spain employed to make head in the religious wars excited on the continent, would have been able to exert themselves in the New World. The same would have been the case with France, the Low Countries, and England. These nations, although divided, have been able to furnish brilliant and glorious pages in history; if their action on the new countries had been united and concentrated, would they not have exerted a vigor and energy which would have been irresistible? Imagine all the ports from the Baltic to the Adriatic sending their missionaries to the East and to the West, as did France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy; imagine all the great cities of Europe as so many centres where means for this great object are collected; imagine all the missionaries guided by the same views, under the influence of the same thought, and burning with the same zeal for the propagation of the same faith; wherever they meet, they meet as brothers, and co-operate in the common cause; all are under the same authority: do you not imagine that you see the Christian religion exerting herself on an immense scale, and everywhere gaining the most signal triumphs? The vessel which bears the apostolic men to distant regions may fearlessly unfurl her sails; when she discovers the flag of another country on the horizon, she is under no apprehension of meeting with enemies; she is sure of finding friends and brothers wherever there are Europeans.
The Catholic missions, in spite of the obstacles which have been opposed to them by the turbulent spirit of Protestantism, have accomplished the most difficult enterprises, and realized prodigies which form a brilliant page in modern history; but how much nobler would have been their results, if Italy, Spain, Portugal, and France had been supported by the whole of Germany, the United Provinces, England, and other northern nations? This association was natural, and must have been realized, had not the schism of Luther destroyed it. It may be observed, moreover, that this fatal event not only placed an obstacle in the way of universal association, but hindered the Catholic nations themselves from devoting the greatest part of their resources to the great work of converting and regenerating the world: they were compelled to remain continually under arms, on account of religious wars and civil discords. At this epoch the religious orders were apparently called to be the arm of religion; by their means religion, consolidated in Europe and satisfied with the social regeneration which she had just worked, would have extended her action to the infidel nations.
When we glance over the course of events during the earliest ages of the Church, and compare them with those of modern times, we clearly see that some powerful cause must have interfered in modern times to oppose the propagation of the faith. Christianity appears, and she extends herself immediately with rapidity, without any aid on the part of men, and in spite of all the efforts of princes, sages, priests, the passions, and of all the stratagems of hell. She is but of yesterday, and already she is powerful, and prevails in all parts of the empire; nations differing in language and manners, nations of various degrees of civilization, abandon the worship of their false gods, and embrace the religion of Jesus Christ. The barbarians themselves, as intractable and indomitable as wild horses, listen to the missionaries who are sent to them, and bow their heads; in the midst of conquest and victory, they are seen to embrace the religion of those whom they have just conquered. Christianity in modern times has been in possession of the exclusive empire of Europe; and yet she has not been able to succeed in introducing herself again on the coasts of Africa and Asia, which lie under her eye. It is true, that the greatest part of America is become Christian; but observe, that the nations of those countries have been conquered; there the conquering nations have established those governments which have lasted for ages; the European nations have inundated the New World with their soldiers and colonies, so that a considerable portion of America is a kind of importation from Europe; consequently, the religious transformation of that country does not resemble that which took place in the early ages of the Church. Turn towards the West, where European arms have not obtained a decided preponderance; see what takes place there: the nations are still under the yoke of false religions. Christianity has not been able to enlighten them; although the Catholic missions have obtained the means of founding a few establishments more or less considerable, the precious seed has not been able to take sufficient root in the soil, in order to bear the fruits which ardent charity hoped for, and heroic zeal labored to produce. From time to time, the rays of divine light have penetrated to the heart of the great empires of Japan and China; at certain moments flattering hopes might be conceived; but these hopes have been dissipated, these rays of light have disappeared like a brilliant meteor amidst the darkness of midnight.
What is the cause of this impotence? whence comes it that the fertilizing power, after having been so great in the first ages, had proved so vain in the last? Let us not examine the profound secrets of Providence, or seek to inquire into the incomprehensible mysteries of the Divine ways; but as far as it is given to a feeble spirit to learn the truth by the evidences contained in the history of the Church, as far as it is allowed us to carry our conjectures on the designs of the Most High, according to the indications which the Lord himself has been pleased to communicate to us, let us hazard an opinion on the facts: although dependent on a superior order, they yet have an ordinary course, which is regulated by God himself. The apostle St. Paul says that faith comes from hearing. He asks, how it is possible to hear, if there is no one who preaches, and how can there be preaching, if there is no one who sends? Hence, we must conclude that missions are necessary for the conversion of nations, since God has not thought fit by constant miracles to send legions of angels from heaven to teach the nations who are deprived of the light of the earth.
Having laid down this principle, I will say that what was required for the conversion of infidel nations was the organization of missions on a large scale. There were required missions which, by the abundance of their resources and the number of their laborers, might be in proportion to the greatness of the object. Observe that the distances are immense, that the nations to whom the divine word is to be announced are dispersed in many countries, and live under the influence of laws, prejudices, and climates the most opposite to the spirit of the Gospel. To make head against such vast wants, and surmount such great difficulties, there was required a perfect inundation of missionaries; without whom the result would remain doubtful, the existence of religious establishments very precarious, and the conversion of great nations little probable, unless Providence interfered by one of those prodigies which change the face of the world in an instant. Now Providence does not renew these prodigies every moment; sometimes he does not even accord them to the most ardent supplications of the Saints.
In order to form a complete idea of what took place in the latter ages, let us pay attention to what exists. What is wanting to infidel nations? What is the incessant cry of the zealous men who devote themselves to the propagation of the Gospel? Do we not constantly hear lamentations on the small number of laborers, and on the scanty resources which are devoted to the subsistence of the missionaries? Is not this penury of resources the cause of the associations now formed among the Catholics of Europe?
The organization of missions on a large scale would have been realized if Protestantism had not come to prevent it. The nations of Europe, the privileged children of Providence, had the obligation and showed a decided will to procure for the other nations of the world, by all the means in their power, a participation in the benefits of the faith. Unhappily this faith was weakened in Europe, it was given up to the caprices of human reason, and henceforth what had before been of easy execution became impossible. Providence, which had permitted the deplorable disaster of the schism, permits also to be deferred to a more remote period the happy day when the benighted nations shall enter in great numbers into the fold of the Church.
But perhaps I shall be told that the zeal of modern Catholicity is not that of the early ages of Christianity, and this is one of the reasons which have prevented the conversion of infidel nations. I will not make a long comparison on this point; I will not say all that might be said; I will content myself with making an observation which will remove the difficulty at once. Our Divine Saviour, in order to send His disciples to preach the Gospel, wished that they should abandon all they had and follow Him. The same Saviour, revealing to us the infallible sign of true charity, tells us that there is nothing greater than to give one's life for one's brethren. The Catholic missionaries of the three last centuries have renounced all, have abandoned their country, their families, all the comforts of life, all that can engage the heart of man on earth; they have gone to seek the infidels amid the most imminent dangers, and they have sealed with their blood, in all parts of the world, their ardor for the conversion of their brethren, and for the salvation of souls. I believe that such missionaries are worthy of succeeding to those of the first ages of the Church; all declamations and calumnies are impotent before the triumphant evidence of facts. The Church of the early ages would be honored, like that of our times, by a St. Francis Xavier and the martyrs of Japan.
We have spoken, also, of the abundance of the missionaries. The Church had a wonderful fecundity for the conversion of the ancient and barbarian world. At her first appearance, the fiery tongues of the Cenacle and the multitude of prodigies made up for numbers, and multiplied the servants of God. Nations of different languages, listening to the same discourse, heard it at the same time each one in his own tongue; but after this first impulse, by which the Almighty was pleased to confound the powers of hell, things followed the ordinary course, and a greater number of missionaries was required for a greater number of conversions. The great centres of faith and charity, the numerous churches of the East and West, furnished in abundance the apostolic men necessary for the propagation of the faith; and this sacred army had a powerful reserve at hand ready to make up its deficiencies when sickness, fatigues, and martyrdom had thinned its ranks. Rome was the centre of this great movement; but Rome, in order to give the impulse, had no need either of fleets ready to transport the holy colonies to many thousand places, or of great treasures to support missionaries in desert regions and countries altogether unknown. When the missionary, prostrate at the feet of the Sovereign Pontiff, asked his apostolical benediction, the holy father could send him in peace with his pastoral staff alone; he knew that the Gospel envoy was about to traverse Christian countries, and that even in idolatrous lands he would not be far from princes already converted, from bishops, priests, and faithful nations; none of whom would refuse succor to him who went to sow the divine word in the neighboring countries.
I leave the reflections which I have just made, on the injury done to the influence of Europe by the schism of Protestantism, with confidence to the judgment of thinking men. I am deeply convinced that this influence thereby received a terrible blow. Without the fatal event of the sixteenth century, the condition of the world would now be very different from what it is. I may, no doubt, delude myself in some degree on this point; but I will appeal to simple good sense whether it is not true, that unity of action, of principles, and of views, the combination of resources, and the association of agents, are not in all things the secret of success, and the surest guarantee for a happy result. I will then ask whether Protestantism did not break this unity, render this combination impossible, and this association impracticable? Are not these facts indisputable, as clear as the light of day? These facts are recent – they are of yesterday; what is their consequence? what deduction should be drawn from them? Let impartiality, good sense, and mere common sense, answer me, if they be only accompanied by good faith.
To every thinking man, it is evident that Europe is not what she would have been without the appearance of Protestantism; and certainly it is not less evident, that the results of its civilizing influence on the world have not answered the promises of the early years of the sixteenth century. Let Protestants boast of having given a new direction to European civilization; let them vaunt of having enfeebled the spiritual power of the Popes, by removing millions of souls from the sacred fold; let them glory in having destroyed the religious orders in countries subject to their dominion – of having broken in pieces the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and thrown the Bible in the midst of ignorant crowds, with the assurance that, to understand the sacred volume, private inspiration or the judgment of natural reason was enough; yet it is not the less certain that the unity of the Christian religion has disappeared among them, that they want a centre whence great efforts may proceed, that they are without a guide, wandering like a flock without a shepherd, blown about by every wind of doctrine, and unable to bring forth the least of those great works which Catholicity has produced, and still produces, in such abundance; it is not the less certain that, by their eternal disputes, their calumnies, their attacks upon the dogmas and the discipline of the Church, they have compelled the latter to hold herself in an attitude of defence – to contend for three centuries, depriving her of the precious time and means which she would have used to complete the great projects intended by her, and already so happily begun. Is it a merit to divide men, to provoke discord, to excite wars, to change brother nations into enemies, to convert the great family-party of nations into an arena for rancorous strife? Is it a merit to throw discredit on the missionaries who go to preach the Gospel to infidel nations – to place all imaginable obstacles in their way – to employ every means to render their zeal useless, and their charity without result? If, indeed, all this be a merit, then I acknowledge that this merit belongs to Protestantism; but if all this be disastrous, and injurious to humanity, it is Protestantism which must be responsible for it.
When Luther said that he was charged with a high mission, he spoke the truth, but a fearful and alarming truth, and one which he did not understand. The sins of nations sometimes fill up the measure of the patience of the Most High. The sound of human offences mounts to heaven, and calls for vengeance; the Eternal, in His fearful anger, sends down a look of fire upon the earth; then strikes the fatal hour in His secret and infinite resolves, and the son of perdition, who is to cover the world with mourning and desolation, appears. As the cataracts of heaven were formerly opened to sweep the human race from the face of the earth, so are the calamities which the God of vengeance holds in reserve for the day of His anger, poured forth from their urn and scattered over the world. The son of perdition raises his voice; that moment is marked by the beginning of the catastrophe. The spirit of evil moves over the whole face of the globe, bearing on his sable pinions the echo of that ominous voice. An incomprehensible giddiness takes possession of men's heads; the nations have eyes, and see not; they have ears, and hear not; in their delirium, the most frightful precipices appear to them smooth, peaceful, and flowery paths; they call good evil, and evil good; they drink with feverish eagerness of the poisoned cup; forgetfulness of all the past, ingratitude for all benefits, seize all minds; the work of the genius of evil is consummated; the prince of the rebellious spirits may again bury himself in his empire of darkness; and the human race has learned, by a terrible lesson, that the indignation of the Most High is not to be provoked with impunity.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE JESUITS
As I am treating of religious institutions, I must not pass over in silence that celebrated order, which, from the first years of its existence, assumed the stature of a colossus, and employed all a giant's strength; that order which perished without having felt decay; which did not follow the common course of others, either in its foundation, in its development, or even in its fall; that order of which it is truly and correctly said, that it had neither infancy nor old age. It is clear that I speak of the society of Jesus, the Jesuits. The name alone will be enough to alarm a certain class of readers; and, therefore, in order to tranquillize them, I will say that I do not here undertake to write an apology for the Jesuits; this task does not belong to the character of my work; moreover, others have undertaken it, and it is not necessary for me to repeat what is well known. But it is impossible to call to mind the religious institutions, the religious, political, and literary history of Europe, during the last three centuries, without meeting the Jesuits at every step: we cannot travel in the most distant countries, traverse unknown seas, visit the most remote lands, or penetrate the most frightful deserts, without finding everywhere under our feet some memorials of the Jesuits. On the other hand, we cannot look at our libraries without immediately remarking the writings of some Jesuits. Since this is the case, even those among our readers who have the greatest horror of them, ought to pardon us for fixing our attention for a moment on this institute which has filled the world with its name. Even if we were to attach no importance to their modern revival, and to regard their present existence and their probable future as unworthy of examination, it would still be altogether inexcusable not to speak of them, at least as a historical fact. To pass them over in silence, would be to imitate those ignorant and heartless travellers, who, with stupid indifference, tread under foot the most interesting ruins and the most valuable remains.
When we study the history of the Jesuits, this very extraordinary circumstance is apparent: they have existed only for a few years, if compared with the duration of other religious bodies, and yet there is no religious order which has been the object of such keen animosity. From their origin, they have had numerous enemies; never have they been free from them, either in their prosperity and greatness, or in their fall, or even after it; never has their persecution ceased; we should rather say, never has the animosity with which they have been pursued ceased. Since their reappearance, men have constantly fixed their eyes upon them; they tremble lest they should resume their ancient power; the splendor which is reflected on them by the recollections of their brilliant history renders them visible everywhere, and augments the fears of their enemies. How many men among us are more alarmed at the foundation of a Jesuits' college than at an irruption of Cossacks! There is, therefore, something very singular and extraordinary in this institute, since it excites the public attention in so high a degree, and its mere name disconcerts its enemies. Men do not despise the Jesuits, but they fear them; sometimes they attempt to throw ridicule on them; but when that weapon is employed against them, it is felt that he who wields it is not sufficiently calm to use it with success. In vain does he attempt to affect contempt; through the affectation every one can perceive disquietude and anxiety. It is immediately seen that he who attacks does not believe himself opposed to insignificant adversaries. His bile is excited, his sallies become checked, his words, steeped in a fearful bitterness, fall from his mouth like drops from a poisoned cup; it is clear that he takes the affair to heart, and does not look upon it as a mere joke. We fancy we hear him say to himself, "Every thing affecting the Jesuits is extremely grave; there is no playing with these men – no regard, no indulgence, no moderation of any kind; it is necessary always to treat them with rigor, harshness, and detestation; with them, the least negligence may become fatal."
Unless I am much deceived, this is the best demonstration that can be given of the eminent merit of the Jesuits. It must be the same with classes and corporations as with individuals – very extraordinary merit necessarily excites numerous enemies, for the simple reason that such merit is always envied, and very often dreaded. In order to know the real cause of this implacable hatred against them, it is enough to consider who are their principal enemies. We know that Protestants and infidels figure there in the first rank; in the second, we remark the men who, with more or less clearness and resolution, show themselves but little attached to the authority of the Roman Church. Both, in their hatred against the Jesuits, are guided by a very rare instinct, for truly they have never met with a more redoubtable adversary. This reflection is worthy of the attention of sincere Catholics, who, for one cause or another, entertain unjust prejudices. When we have to form a judgment on the merit and conduct of a man, it is very often a sure means of deciding between contrary opinions to inquire who are his enemies.
When we fix our attention on the institute of the Jesuits, on the time of its foundation, on the rapidity and greatness of its progress, we find the important truth which I have before pointed out more and more confirmed, viz., that the Catholic Church, with wonderful fruitfulness, always furnishes an idea worthy of her to meet all the necessities which arise. Protestantism opposed the Catholic doctrines with the pomp and parade of knowledge and learning; the éclat of human literature, the knowledge of languages, the taste for the models of antiquity, were all employed against religion with a constancy and ardour worthy of a better cause. Incredible efforts were made to destroy the pontifical authority; when they could not destroy it, they attempted at least to weaken and discredit it. The evil spread with fearful rapidity; the mortal poison already circulated in the veins of a considerable portion of the European nations: the contagion began to be propagated even in countries which had remained faithful to the truth. To complete the misfortune, schism and heresy, traversing the seas, corrupted the faith of the simple neophytes of the New World. What was to be done in such a crisis? Could such great evils be remedied by ordinary means? Was it possible to make head against such great and imminent perils by employing common arms? Was it not proper to make some on purpose for such a struggle, to temper the cuirass and shield, to fit them for this new kind of warfare, in order that the cause of truth might not appear in the new arena under fatal disadvantages? Who can doubt that the appearance of the Jesuits was the answer to these questions, that their institute was the solution of the problem?
The spirit of the coming ages was essentially one of scientific and literary progress. The Jesuits were aware of this truth; they perfectly understood it.
It was necessary to advance with rapidity and never to remain behind: this the new institute does; it takes the lead in all sciences; it allows none to anticipate it. Men study the oriental languages; they produce great works on the Bible; they search the books of the ancient Fathers, the monuments of tradition and of ecclesiastical decisions: in the midst of this great activity, the Jesuits are at their posts; many supereminent works issue from their colleges. The taste for dogmatical controversy is spread over all Europe: many schools preserve and love the scholastic discussions: immortal works of controversy come from the hands of the Jesuits, at the same time that they yield to none in skill and penetration in the schools. The mathematics, astronomy, all the natural sciences, make great progress; learned societies are formed in the capitals of Europe to cultivate and encourage them: in these societies the Jesuits figure in the first rank. The spirit of time is naturally dissolvent: the institute of the Jesuits is interiorly armed against dissolution; in spite of the rapidity of its course, it advances in a compact order, like the mass of a powerful army. The errors, the eternal disputes, the multitude of the new opinions, even the progress of the sciences, by exciting men's minds, give a fatal inconstancy to the human intellect – an impetuous whirlwind, agitating and stirring up all things, carries them away. The order of the Jesuits appears in the midst of this whirlwind, but it partakes neither of its inconstancy nor of its variability; it pursues its career without losing itself; and while only irregularity and vacillation are seen among its adversaries, it advances with a sure step, tending towards its object, like a planet which performs its orbit according to fixed laws. The authority of the Pope, assailed with animosity by Protestants, was indirectly attacked by others with stratagem and dissimulation; the Jesuits showed themselves faithfully attached to that authority; they defend it wherever it is threatened; like vigilant sentinels, they constantly watch over the preservation of Catholic unity. Their knowledge, influence, and riches never affect their profound submission to the authority of the Popes – a submission which was ever their distinctive characteristic. In consequence of the discovery of the new countries in the east and west, a taste for travelling, for observing distant countries, for the knowledge of the language, manners, and customs of the recently discovered nations, was developed in Europe. The Jesuits, spread over the face of the globe, while preaching the Gospel to the nations, do not forget the study of the thousand things which may interest cultivated Europe; and at their return from their gigantic expeditions, they are seen adding their valuable treasures to the common fund of modern science.
How, then, can we be surprised that Protestants have been so violent against an institute in which they found so terrible an enemy; and, on the other hand, was there any thing more natural than to see all the other enemies of religion, enemies some of whom were wholly unmasked and some partially disguised, make common cause with Protestants on this point? The Jesuits were a wall of brass against the assaults upon the Catholic faith; it was resolved to undermine and overturn this rampart; which in the end was accomplished. Very few years had elapsed since the suppression of the Jesuits, and already the memory of the great crimes which were imputed to them was effaced by the ravages of an unexampled revolution. Men of good faith, whose excessive confidence had believed perfidious calumnies, could convince themselves that the riches, knowledge, influence, and the pretended ambition of the Jesuits, would never have been as fatal as the triumph of their enemies; these religious men would never have upset a throne or cut off the head of a king on the scaffold.
M. Guizot, in glancing at European civilization, necessarily encountered the Jesuits; and it must be acknowledged that he has not done them the justice to which they are entitled. After having lamented the inconsistency of the Protestant Reformation, and the narrow spirit which guided it, after having confessed that Catholics knew very well what they did and what they wished, and that they acted up to the principles of their conduct and avowed all their consequences, M. Guizot declares that there never was a more consistent government than that of Rome, and that the court of Rome, always having a fixed idea, has known how to pursue a consistent and regular line of conduct; he extols the strength which results from a full knowledge of what one does and what one wishes; he shows the advantage of a settled design, and of the complete and absolute adoption of a principle and system; that is to say, he makes a brilliant panegyric on, and a powerful apology for, the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, M. Guizot finds the Jesuits in his way, and unworthy as it is of such a mind as his, which, in order to require just renown, has no need of burning incense before vulgar prejudices or mean passions, he attempts, in passing, to throw a reproach upon them. "Every one knows," says M. Guizot, "that the principal power instituted to contend against the religious revolution, was the order of the Jesuits. Throw a glance over their history; they have failed everywhere; wherever they have interfered to any extent, they have brought misfortune to the cause in which they have engaged. In England they have destroyed kings, in Spain nations." M. Guizot had just told us of the superiority which is obtained over an adversary by regular and consistent conduct, by the complete and absolute adoption of a system, and by a fixed idea; as a proof of all this he showed us the Jesuits, he exhibited to us in them the expression of the system of the Church; and behold, without any explanation, if not without a motive, the writer suddenly changes his course; the advantages of the system which he has just praised disappear from his eyes; for those who follow this system, that is the Jesuits themselves, fail everywhere, and everywhere bring misfortunes on the cause which they embrace. How can such assertions be reconciled? The credit, influence, and sagacity of the Jesuits have passed into a proverb. The reproach against them was, of having extended their views too far, of having conceived ambitious plans, and obtained by their skill a decided ascendency in all the places where they succeeded in gaining entrance; Protestants themselves have openly confessed that the Jesuits were their most redoubtable adversaries; it was always thought that the foundation of the order had an immense result, and now we learn from M. Guizot, that the Jesuits have everywhere failed; that their support, far from being a great succour, always brought fatality and misfortune to the cause of which they declared themselves the advocates. If they were such fatal servants, why were their services sought with so much eagerness? If they always conducted affairs so ill, why have the most important ones in the end fallen into their hands? Adversaries so foolish or so unfortunate certainly ought not to have excited in the enemies' camp so much clamor as was raised at their approach.