know that the thing we wish to do is not good, or at least to doubt that it is—to fear or to judge that God takes no pleasure in the action which we contemplate, but forbids it; and in spite of this, to commit the deed, leap the fence, and transgress.”
far envy will carry some people. It was on that very passage that M.
Hallier, before he became one of our friends, bantered Father Bauny, by applying to him these words: _Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi_—‘Behold the man that taketh away the sins of the world!’”
“Certainly,” said I, “according to Father Bauny, we may be said to behold a redemption of an entirely new description.”
“Would you have a more authentic witness on the point?” added he. “Here is the book of Father Annat.[121] It is the last that he wrote against M. Arnauld. Turn up to page 34, where there is a dog’s ear, and read the lines which I have marked with pencil—they ought to be written in letters of gold.” I then read these words: “He that has no thought of God, nor of his sins, nor any apprehension (that is, as he explained it, any knowledge) of his obligation to exercise the acts of love to God or contrition, has no actual grace for exercising those acts; but it is equally true that he is guilty of no sin in omitting them, and that, if he is damned, it will not be as a punishment for that omission.” And a few lines below, he adds: “The same thing may be said of a culpable commission.”
“You see,” said the monk, “how he speaks of sins of _omission_ and of _commission_. Nothing escapes him. What say you to that?”
“Say!” I exclaimed. “I am delighted! What a charming train of consequences do I discover flowing from this doctrine! I can see the whole results already; and such mysteries present themselves before me!
Why, I see more people, beyond all comparison, justified by this ignorance and forgetfulness of God, than by grace and the sacraments![122] But, my dear father, are you not inspiring me with a delusive joy? Are you sure there is nothing here like that _sufficiency_ _which suffices not_? I am terribly afraid of the _Distinguo_;—I was taken in with that once already! Are you quite in earnest?”
“How now!” cried the monk, beginning to get angry; “here is no matter for jesting. I assure you there is no such thing as equivocation here.”
“I am not making a jest of it,” said I; “but that is what I really dread, from pure anxiety to find it true.”[123] “Well then,” he said, “to assure yourself still more of it, here are the writings of M. le Moine,[124] who taught the doctrine in a full meeting of the Sorbonne. He learned it from us, to be sure; but he has the merit of having cleared it up most admirably. O how circumstantially he goes to work! He shows that, in order to make out an action to be _a sin_, all these things must have passed through the mind. Read, and weigh every word.”—I then read what I now give you in a translation from the original Latin: “1. On the one hand, God sheds abroad on the soul some measure of love, which gives it a bias toward the thing commanded; and on the other, a rebellious concupiscence solicits it in the opposite direction. 2. God inspires the soul with a knowledge of its own weakness. 3. God reveals the knowledge of the physician who can heal it.
4. God inspires it with a desire to be healed. 5. God inspires a desire to pray and solicit his assistance.”
“And unless all these things occur and pass through the soul,” added the monk, “the action is not properly a sin, and cannot be imputed, as M. le Moine shows in the same place and in what follows. Would you wish to have other authorities for this? Here they are.”
“All modern ones, however,” whispered my Jansenist friend.
“So I perceive,” said I to him aside; and then, turning to the monk: “O my dear sir,” cried I, “what a blessing this will be to some persons of my acquaintance! I must positively introduce them to you. You have never, perhaps, met with people who had fewer sins to account for all your life. For, in the first place, they never think of God at all; their vices have got the better of their reason; they have never known either their weakness or the physician who can cure it; they have never thought of ‘desiring the health of their soul,’ and still less of ‘praying to God to bestow it;’ so that, according to M. le Moine, they are still in the state of baptismal innocence. They have ‘never had a thought of loving God or of being contrite for their sins;’ so that, according to Father Annat, they have never committed sin through the want of charity and penitence. Their life is spent in a perpetual round of all sorts of pleasures, in the course of which they have not been interrupted by the slightest remorse. These excesses had led me to imagine that their perdition was inevitable; but you, father, inform me that these same excesses secure their salvation. Blessings on you, my good father, for this way of justifying people! Others prescribe painful austerities for healing the soul; but you show that souls which may be thought desperately distempered are in quite good health. What an excellent device for being happy both in this world and in the next! I had always supposed that the less a man thought of God, the more he sinned; but, from what I see now, if one could only succeed in bringing himself not to think upon God at all, everything would be pure with him in all time coming. Away with your half-and-half sinners, who retain some sneaking affection for virtue! They will be damned every one of them, these semi-sinners. But commend me to your arrant sinners—hardened, unalloyed, out-and-out, thorough-bred sinners. Hell is no place for them; they have cheated the devil, purely by virtue of their devotion to his service!”
The good father, who saw very well the connection between these consequences and his principle, dexterously evaded them; and maintaining his temper, either from good nature or policy, he merely replied: “To let you understand how we avoid these inconveniences, you must know that, while we affirm that these reprobates to whom you refer would be without sin if they had no thoughts of conversion and no desires to devote themselves to God, we maintain, that they all actually _have_ such thoughts and desires, and that God never permitted a man to sin without giving him previously a view of the evil which he contemplated, and a desire, either to avoid the offence, or at all events to implore his aid to enable him to avoid it; and none but Jansenists will assert the contrary.”
“Strange! father,” returned I; “is this, then, the heresy of the Jansenists, to deny that every time a man commits a sin, he is troubled with a remorse of conscience, in spite of which, he ‘leaps the fence and transgresses,’ as Father Bauny has it? It is rather too good a joke to be made a heretic for that. I can easily believe that a man may be damned for not having good thoughts; but it never would have entered my head to imagine that any man could be subjected to that doom for not believing that all mankind must have good thoughts! But, father, I hold myself bound in conscience to disabuse you, and to inform you that there are thousands of people who have no such desires—who sin without regret—who sin with delight—who make a boast of sinning. And who ought to know better about these things than yourself? You cannot have failed to have confessed some of those to whom I allude; for it is among persons of high rank that they are most generally to be met with.[125] But mark, father, the dangerous consequences of your maxim. Do you not perceive what effect it may have on those libertines who like nothing better than to find out matter of doubt in religion? What a handle do you give them, when you assure them, as an article of faith, that on every occasion when they commit a sin, they feel an inward presentiment of the evil, and a desire to avoid it? Is it not obvious that, feeling convinced by their own experience of the falsity of your doctrine on this point, which you say is a matter of faith, they will extend the inference drawn from this to all the other points? They will argue that, since you are not trust-worthy in one article, you are to be suspected in them all; and thus you shut them up to conclude, either that religion is false, or that you must know very little about it.”
Here my friend the Jansenist, following up my remarks, said to him: “You would do well, father, if you wish to preserve your doctrine, not to explain so precisely as you have done to us, what you mean by _actual grace_. For, how could you, without forfeiting all credit in the estimation of men, openly declare that _nobody sins without having previously the knowledge of his weakness, and of a physician, or the desire of a cure, and of asking it of God_? Will it be believed, on your word, that those who are immersed in avarice, impurity, blasphemy, duelling, revenge, robbery and sacrilege, have really a desire to embrace chastity, humility, and the other Christian virtues? Can it be conceived that those philosophers who boasted so loudly of the powers of nature, knew its infirmity and its physician? Will you maintain that those who held it as a settled maxim that ‘it is not God that bestows virtue, and that no one ever asked it from him,’ would think of asking it for themselves? Who can believe that the Epicureans, who denied a divine providence, ever felt any inclination to pray to God?—men who said that ‘it would be an insult to invoke the Deity in our necessities, as if he were capable of wasting a thought on beings like us?’ In a word, how can it be imagined that idolaters and Atheists, every time they are tempted to the commission of sin, in other words, infinitely often during their lives, have a desire to pray to the true God, of whom they are ignorant, that he would bestow on them virtues of which they have no conception?”
“Yes,” said the worthy monk, in a resolute tone, “we will affirm it: and sooner than allow that any one sins without having the consciousness that he is doing evil, and the desire of the opposite virtue, we will maintain that the whole world, reprobates and infidels included, have these inspirations and desires in every case of temptation. You cannot show me, from the Scripture at least, that this is not the truth.”
On this remark I struck in, by exclaiming: “What! father, must we have recourse to the Scripture to demonstrate a thing so clear as this? This is not a point of faith, nor even of reason. It is a matter of fact: we see it—we know it—we feel it.”
But the Jansenist, keeping the monk to his own terms, addressed him as follows: “If you are willing, father, to stand or fall by Scripture, I am ready to meet you there; only you must promise to yield to its authority; and since it is written that ‘God has not revealed his judgments to the Heathen, but left them to wander in their own ways,’ you must not say that God has enlightened those whom the Sacred Writings assure us ‘he has left in darkness and in the shadow of death.’ Is it not enough to show the erroneousness of your principle, to find that St.
Paul calls himself ‘the chief of sinners,’ for a sin which he committed ‘ignorantly, and with zeal?’ Is it not enough to find, from the Gospel, that those who crucified Jesus Christ had need of the pardon which he asked for them, although they knew not the malice of their action, and would never have committed it, according to St. Paul, if they had known it? Is it not enough that Jesus Christ apprizes us that there will be persecutors of the Church, who, while making every effort to ruin her, will ‘think that they are doing God service;’ teaching us that this sin, which in the judgment of the apostle, is the greatest of all sins, may be committed by persons who, so far from knowing that they were sinning, would think that they sinned by not committing it? In fine, is it not enough that Jesus Christ himself has taught us that there are two kinds of sinners, the one of whom sin with ‘knowledge of their Master’s will,’ and the other without knowledge; and that both of them will be ‘chastised,’ although, indeed, in a different manner?”
Sorely pressed by so many testimonies from Scripture, to which he had appealed, the worthy monk began to give way; and, leaving the wicked to sin without inspiration, he said: “You will not deny that _good men_, at least, never sin unless God give them”——“You are flinching,” said I, interrupting him; “you are flinching now, my good father; you abandon the general principle, and finding that it will not hold good in regard to the wicked, you would compound the matter, by making it apply at least to the righteous. But in this point of view the application of it is, I conceive, so circumscribed, that it will hardly apply to anybody, and it is scarcely worth while to dispute the point.”
My friend, however, who was so ready on the whole question, that I am inclined to think he had studied it all that very morning, replied: “This, father, is the last entrenchment to which those of your party who are willing to reason at all are sure to retreat; but you are far from being safe even here. The example of the saints is not a whit more in your favor. Who doubts that they often fall into sins of surprise, without being conscious of them? Do we not learn from the saints themselves how often concupiscence lays hidden snares for them; and how generally it happens, as St. Augustine complains of himself in his Confessions, that, with all their discretion, they ‘give to pleasure what they mean only to give to necessity?’
“How usual is it to see the more zealous friends of truth betrayed by the heat of controversy into sallies of bitter passion for their personal interests, while their consciences, at the time, bear them no other testimony than that they are acting in this manner purely for the interests of truth, and they do not discover their mistake till long afterwards!
“What, again, shall we say of those who, as we learn from examples in ecclesiastical history, eagerly involve themselves in affairs which are really bad, because they believe them to be really good; and yet this does not hinder the fathers from condemning such persons as having sinned on these occasions?
“And were this not the case, how could the saints have their secret faults? How could it be true that God alone knows the magnitude and the number of our offences; that no one knows whether he is worthy of hatred or love; and that the best of saints, though unconscious of any culpability, ought always, as St. Paul says of himself, to remain in “You perceive, then, father, that this knowledge of the evil, and love of the opposite virtue, which you imagine to be essential to constitute sin, are equally disproved by the examples of the righteous and of the wicked. In the case of the wicked, their passion for vice sufficiently testifies that they have no desire for virtue; and in regard to the righteous, the love which they bear to virtue plainly shows that they are not always conscious of those sins which, as the Scripture teaches, they are daily committing.
“So true is it, indeed, that the righteous often sin through ignorance, that the greatest saints rarely sin otherwise. For how can it be supposed that souls so pure, who avoid with so much care and zeal the least things that can be displeasing to God as soon as they discover them, and who yet sin many times every day, could possibly have, every time before they fell into sin, ‘the knowledge of their infirmity on that occasion, and of their physician, and the desire of their souls’ health, and of praying to God for assistance,’ and that, in spite of these inspirations, these devoted souls ‘nevertheless transgress,’ and commit the sin?
“You must conclude then, father, that neither sinners nor yet saints have always that knowledge, or those desires and inspirations every time they offend; that is, to use your own terms, they have not always actual grace. Say no longer, with your modern authors, that it is impossible for those to sin who do not know righteousness; but rather join with St.
Augustine and the ancient fathers in saying that it is impossible _not_ to sin, when we do not know righteousness: _Necesse est ut peccet, a quo ignoratur justitia_.”
The good father, though thus driven from both of his positions, did not lose courage, but after ruminating a little, “Ha!” he exclaimed, “I shall settle you immediately.” And again taking up Father Bauny, he pointed to the same place he had before quoted, exclaiming: “Look now—see the ground on which he establishes his opinion! I was sure he would not be deficient in good proofs. Read what he quotes from Aristotle, and you will see that after so express an authority, you must either burn the books of this prince of philosophers or adopt our opinion. Hear, then, the principles which support Father Bauny: Aristotle states first, ‘_that an action cannot be imputed as blameworthy, if it be involuntary_.’”
“I grant that,” said my friend.
“This is the first time you have agreed together,” said I. “Take my advice, father, and proceed no further.”
“That would be doing nothing,” he replied; “we must know what are the conditions necessary to constitute an action voluntary.”
“I am much afraid,” returned I, “that you will get at loggerheads on that point.”
“No fear of that,” said he; “this is sure ground—Aristotle is on my side. Hear, now, what Father Bauny says: ‘In order that an action be voluntary, it must proceed from a man who perceives, knows, and comprehends what is good and what is evil in it. _Voluntarium est_—that is a voluntary action, as we commonly say with the philosopher’ (that is Aristotle, you know, said the monk, squeezing my hand;) ‘_quod fit a principio cognoscente singula in quibus est actio_—which is done by a person knowing the particulars of the action; so that when the will is led inconsiderately, and without mature reflection, to embrace or reject, to do or omit to do anything, before the understanding has been able to see whether it would be right or wrong, such an action is neither good nor evil; because previous to this mental inquisition, view, and reflection on the good or bad qualities of the matter in question, the act by which it is done is not voluntary.’ Are you satisfied now?” said the father.
“It appears,” returned I, “that Aristotle agrees with Father Bauny; but that does not prevent me from feeling surprised at this statement. What, sir! is it not enough to make an action voluntary that the man knows what he is doing, and does it just because he chooses to do it? Must we suppose, besides this, that he ‘perceives, knows, and comprehends what is good and evil in the action?’ Why, on this supposition there would be hardly such a thing in nature as voluntary actions, for nobody almost thinks about all this. How many oaths in gambling—how many excesses in debauchery—how many riotous extravagances in the carnival, must, on this principle, be excluded from the list of voluntary actions, and consequently neither good nor bad, because not accompanied by those ‘mental reflections on the good and evil qualities’ of the action? But is it possible, father, that Aristotle held such a sentiment? I have always understood that he was a sensible man.”
“I shall soon convince you of that,” said the Jansenist; and requesting a sight of Aristotle’s Ethics, he opened it at the beginning of the third book, from which Father Bauny had taken the passage quoted, and said to the monk: “I excuse you, my dear sir, for having believed, on the word of Father Bauny, that Aristotle held such a sentiment; but you would have changed your mind had you read him for yourself. It is true that he teaches, that ‘in order to make an action voluntary, we must know the particulars of that action’—_singula in quibus est actio_. But what else does he mean by that, than the _particular circumstances_ of the action? The examples which he adduces clearly show this to be his meaning, for they are exclusively confined to cases in which the persons were ignorant of some of the circumstances; such as that of ‘a person who, wishing to exhibit a machine, discharges a dart which wounds a bystander; and that of Merope, who killed her own son instead of her enemy,’ and such like.
“Thus you see what is the kind of ignorance that renders actions involuntary; namely, that of the particular circumstances, which is termed by divines, as you must know, _ignorance of the fact_. But with respect to _ignorance of the right_—ignorance of the good or evil in an action—which is the only point in question, let us see if Aristotle agrees with Father Bauny. Here are the words of the philosopher: ‘All wicked men are ignorant of what they ought to do, and what they ought to avoid; and it is this very ignorance which makes them wicked and vicious. Accordingly, a man cannot be said to act involuntarily merely because he is ignorant of what it is proper for him to do in order to fulfil his duty. This ignorance in the choice of good and evil does not make the action involuntary; it only makes it vicious. The same thing may be affirmed of the man who is ignorant generally of the rules of his duty; such ignorance is worthy of blame, not of excuse. And consequently, the ignorance which renders actions involuntary and excusable is simply that which relates to the fact and its particular circumstances. In this case the person is excused and forgiven, being considered as having acted contrary to his inclination.’
“After this, father, will you maintain that Aristotle is of your opinion? And who can help being astonished to find that a Pagan philosopher had more enlightened views than your doctors, in a matter so deeply affecting morals, and the direction of conscience, too, as the knowledge of those conditions which render actions voluntary or involuntary, and which, accordingly, charge or discharge them as sinful?
Look for no more support, then, father, from the prince of philosophers, and no longer oppose yourselves to the prince of theologians,[127] who has thus decided the point in the first book of his Retractations, chapter XV.: ‘Those who sin through ignorance, though they sin without meaning to sin, commit the deed only because they _will_ commit it. And, therefore, even this sin of ignorance cannot be committed except by the will of him who commits it, though by a will which incites him to the action merely, and not to the sin; and yet the action itself is nevertheless sinful, for it is enough to constitute it such that he has done what he was bound not to do.’”
The Jesuit seemed to be confounded more with the passage from Aristotle, I thought, than that from St. Augustine; but while he was thinking on what he could reply, a messenger came to inform him that Madame la Mareschale of ——, and Madame the Marchioness of ——, requested his attendance. So taking a hasty leave of us, he said: “I shall speak about it to our fathers. They will find an answer to it, I warrant you; we have got some long heads among us.”
We understood him perfectly well; and on our being left alone, I expressed to my friend my astonishment at the subversion which this doctrine threatened to the whole system of morals. To this he replied that he was quite astonished at my astonishment. “Are you not yet aware,” he said, “that they have gone to far greater excess in morals than in any other matter?” He gave me some strange illustrations of this, promising me more at some future time. The information which I may receive on this point, will, I hope, furnish the topic of my next ----- Footnote 120: Etienne Bauni, or Stephen Bauny, was a French Jesuit. His “Summary,” which Pascal has immortalized by his frequent references to it, was published in 1633. It is a large volume, stuffed with the most detestable doctrines. In 1642, the General Assembly of the French clergy censured his books on moral theology, as containing propositions “leading to licentiousness, and the corruption of good manners, violating natural equity, and excusing blasphemy, usury, simony, and other heinous sins, as trivial matters.” (Nicole, i. 164.)
And yet this abominable work was formally defended in the “Apology for the Casuists,” written in 1657, by Father Pirot, and acknowledged by the Jesuits as having been written under their direction! (Nicole, Hist. des Provinciales, p. 30.)
Footnote 121: Francis Annat was born in the year 1590. He was made rector of the College of Toulouse, and appointed by the Jesuits their French provincial; and, while in that situation, was chosen by Louis XIV. as his confessor. His friends have highly extolled his virtues as a man; and the reader may judge of the value of these eulogiums from the fact, that he retained his post as the favorite confessor of that licentious monarch, without interruption, till deafness prevented him from listening any longer to the confessions of his royal penitent.
(Bayle, art. _Annat_.) They have also extolled his answer to the Provincial Letters, in his “Bonne Foy des Jansenistes,” in which he professed to expose the falsity of the quotations made from the Casuists, with what success, appears from the Notes of Nicole, who has completely vindicated Pascal from the unfounded charges which the Jesuits have reiterated on this point. (Notes Preliminaires, vol. i.
p. 256, &c.; Entretiens de Cleandre et Eudoxe, p. 79.)
Footnote 122: When Madame du Valois, a lady of birth and high accomplishments, one of the nuns of Port-Royal, among other trials by which she was harassed and tormented for not signing the formulary condemning Jansenius, was threatened with being deprived of the benefit of the sacraments at the hour of death, she replied: “If, at the awful hour of death, I should be deprived of those assistances which the Church grants to all her children, then God himself will, by his grace, immediately and abundantly supply their instrumentality. I know, indeed, that it is most painful to approach the awful hour of death without an outward participation in the sacraments; but it is better dying to enter into heaven, though without the sacraments, for the cause of truth, than, receiving the sacraments, to be cited to irrevocable judgment for committing perjury.” (Narrative of Dem. of Footnote 123: Will it be believed that the Jesuits actually had the consummate hypocrisy to pretend that Pascal meant to throw ridicule on the grace of God, while he was merely exposing to merited contempt their own perversions of the doctrine?
Footnote 124: See before, page 70.
Footnote 125: The Jesuits were notorious for the assiduity with which they sought admission into the families, and courted the confidence of the great, with whom, from the laxness of their discipline and morality, as well as from their superior manners and accomplishments, they were, as they still are, the favorite confessors. They have a maxim among their secret instructions, that in dealing with the consciences of the great, the confessor must be guided by the looser sort of opinions.
The author of the _Theatre Jesuitique_ illustrates this by an anecdote. A rich gentleman falling sick, confessed himself to a Jesuit, and among other sins acknowledged an illicit intercourse with a lady, whose portrait, thinking himself dying, he gave with many expressions of remorse, to his confessor. The gentleman, however, recovered, and with returning health a salutary change was effected on his character. The Jesuit, finding himself forgotten, paid a visit to his former penitent, and gave him back the portrait, which renewed all his former passion, and soon brought him again to the feet of his confessor!
Footnote 126: “The doubtsome faith of the pope,” as it was styled by our Reformers, is here lamentably apparent. The “fear and trembling” of the apostle were those of anxious care and diligence, not of doubt or apprehension. The Church of Rome, with all her pretensions to be regarded as the only safe and infallible guide to salvation, keeps her children in darkness and doubt on this point to the last moment of life; they are never permitted to reach the peaceful assurance of God’s love and the humble hope of eternal life which the Gospel warrants the believer to cherish; and this, while it serves to keep the superstitious multitude under the sway of priestly domination, accounts for the _gloom_ which has characterized, in all ages, the devotion of the best and most intelligent Romanists.
Footnote 127: Augustine.
LETTER V.
DESIGN OF THE JESUITS IN ESTABLISHING A NEW SYSTEM OF MORALS—TWO SORTS OF CASUISTS AMONG THEM, A GREAT MANY LAX, AND SOME SEVERE ONES—REASON OF THIS DIFFERENCE—EXPLANATION OF THE DOCTRINE OF PROBABILITY—A MULTITUDE OF MODERN AND UNKNOWN AUTHORS SUBSTITUTED IN THE PLACE OF THE HOLY FATHERS.
SIR,—According to my promise, I now send you the first outlines of the morals taught by those good fathers the Jesuits—“those men distinguished for learning and sagacity, who are all under the guidance of divine wisdom—a surer guide than all philosophy.” You imagine, perhaps, that I am in jest, but I am perfectly serious; or rather, they are so when they speak thus of themselves in their book entitled “The Image of the First Century.”[128] I am only copying their own words, and may now give you the rest of the eulogy: “They are a society of men, or rather let us call them angels, predicted by Isaiah in these words, ‘Go, ye swift and ready angels.’”[129] The prediction is as clear as day, is it not? “They have the spirit of eagles; they are a flock of phœnixes (a late author having demonstrated that there are a great many of these birds); they have changed the face of Christendom!” Of course, we must believe all this, since they have said it; and in one sense you will find the account amply verified by the sequel of this communication, in which I propose to treat of their maxims.
Determined to obtain the best possible information, I did not trust to the representations of our friend the Jansenist, but sought an interview with some of themselves. I found, however, that he told me nothing but the bare truth, and I am persuaded he is an honest man. Of this you may judge from the following account of these conferences.
In the conversation I had with the Jansenist, he told me so many strange things about these fathers, that I could with difficulty believe them, till he pointed them out to me in their writings; after which he left me nothing more to say in their defence, than that these might be the sentiments of some individuals only, which it was not fair to impute to the whole fraternity.[130] And, indeed, I assured him that I knew some of them who were as severe as those whom he quoted to me were lax. This led him to explain to me the spirit of the Society, which is not known to every one; and you will perhaps have no objections to learn something about it.
“You imagine,” he began, “that it would tell considerably in their favor to show that some of their fathers are as friendly to Evangelical maxims as others are opposed to them; and you would conclude from that circumstance, that these loose opinions do not belong to the whole Society. That I grant you; for had such been the case, they would not have suffered persons among them holding sentiments so diametrically opposed to licentiousness. But as it is equally true that there are among them those who hold these licentious doctrines, you are bound also to conclude that the Spirit of the Society is not that of Christian severity; for had such been the case, they would not have suffered persons among them holding sentiments so diametrically opposed to that severity.”
“And what, then,” I asked, “can be the design of the whole as a body?
Perhaps they have no fixed principle, and every one is left to speak out at random whatever he thinks.”
“That cannot be,” returned my friend; “such an immense body could not subsist in such a hap-hazard sort of way, or without a soul to govern and regulate its movements; besides, it is one of their express regulations, that none shall print a page without the approval of their superiors.”
“But,” said I, “how can these same superiors give their consent to maxims so contradictory?”
“That is what you have yet to learn,” he replied. “Know, then, that their object is not the corruption of manners—that is not their design.
But as little is it their sole aim to reform them—that would be bad policy. Their idea is briefly this: They have such a good opinion of themselves as to believe that it is useful, and in some sort essentially necessary to the good of religion, that their influence should extend everywhere, and that they should govern all consciences. And the Evangelical or severe maxims being best fitted for managing some sorts of people, they avail themselves of these when they find them favorable to their purpose. But as these maxims do not suit the views of the great bulk of people, they wave them in the case of such persons, in order to keep on good terms with all the world. Accordingly, having to deal with persons of all classes and of all different nations, they find it necessary to have casuists cut out to match this diversity.
“On this principle, you will easily see that if they had none but the looser sort of casuists, they would defeat their main design, which is to embrace all; for those that are truly pious are fond of a stricter discipline. But as there are not many of that stamp, they do not require many severe directors to guide them. They have a few for the select few; while whole multitudes of lax casuists are provided for the multitudes that prefer laxity.[131] “It is in virtue of this ‘obliging and accommodating’ conduct, as Father Petau[132] calls it, that they may be said to stretch out a helping hand to all mankind. Should any person present himself before them, for example, fully resolved to make restitution of some ill-gotten gains, do not suppose that they would dissuade him from it. By no means; on the contrary, they will applaud and confirm him in such a holy resolution.
But suppose another should come who wishes to be absolved without restitution, and it will be a particularly hard case indeed, if they cannot furnish him with means of evading the duty, of one kind or another, the lawfulness of which they will be ready to guarantee.
“By this policy they keep all their friends, and defend themselves against all their foes; for, when charged with extreme laxity, they have nothing more to do than produce their austere directors, with some books which they have written on the severity of the Christian code of morals; and simple people, or those who never look below the surface of things, are quite satisfied with these proofs of the falsity of the accusation.
“Thus are they prepared for all sorts of persons, and so ready are they