[141]. In the technical language of theology, an “occasion of sin” is any situation or course of conduct which has a tendency to induce the commission of sin. “Proximate occasions” are those which have a direct and immediate tendency of this kind.
[142]. “The casuists are divided into Probabilistæ and Probabilioristæ. The first, among whom were the Jesuits, maintain that a certain degree of probability as to the lawfulness of an action is enough to secure against sin. The second, supported by the Dominicans and the Jansenists (a kind of Catholic Calvinists condemned by the Church), insist on always taking the safest or most probable side. The French proverb, Le mieux est l’ennemi, du bien, is perfectly applicable to the practical effects of these two systems in Spain.” (Letters from Spain, p. 277.) Nicole has a long dissertation on the subject in his Notes on this Letter.
[143]. “When one god presses hard, another brings relief.”
[144]. In the twelfth century, in consequence of the writings of Peter Lombard, commonly called the “Master of the Sentences,” the Christian doctors were divided into two classes—the Positive or dogmatic, and the Scholastic divines. The Positive divines, who were the teachers of systematic divinity, expounded, though in a wretched manner, the Sacred Writings, and confirmed their sentiments by Scripture and tradition. The scholastics, instead of the Bible, explained the book of Sentences, indulging in the most idle and ridiculous speculations.—“The practice of choosing a certain priest, not only to be the occasional confessor, but the director of the conscience, was greatly encouraged by the Jesuits.” (Letters from Spain, p. 89.)
[145]. In this extraordinary list of obscure and now forgotten casuistical writers, most of them belonging to Spain, Portugal, and Flanders, the art of the author lies in stringing together the most outlandish names he could collect, ranging them mostly according to their terminations, and placing them in contrast with the venerable and well-known names of the ancient fathers. To a French ear these names must have sounded as uncouth and barbarous as those of the Scotch which Milton has satirized to the ear of an Englishman:—
“Cries the stall-reader, ‘Bless us! what a word on
A title-page is this!’ Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?
Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.”