“Then he is a heretic,” quoth he; “I refer you to these good fathers if he is not.”
I did not appeal to them as judges, for they had already nodded assent; but I said to them: “He refuses to admit that word proximate, because he can meet with nobody who will explain it to him.”
Upon this one of the fathers was on the point of offering his definition of the term, when he was interrupted by M. le Moine’s disciple, who said to him: “Do you mean, then, to renew our broils? Have we not agreed not to explain that word proximate, but to use it on both sides without saying what it signifies?” To this the Jacobin gave his assent.
I was thus let into the whole secret of their plot; and rising to take my leave of them, I remarked: “Indeed, fathers, I am much afraid this is nothing better than pure chicanery; and whatever may be the result of your convocations, I venture to predict that, though the censure should pass, peace will not be established. For though it should be decided that the syllables of that word proximate should be pronounced, who does not see that, the meaning not being explained, each of you will be disposed to claim the victory? The Jacobins will contend that the word is to be understood in their sense; M. le Moine will insist that it must be taken in his; and thus there will be more wrangling about the explanation of the word than about its introduction. For, after all, there would be no great danger in adopting it without any sense, seeing it is through the sense only that it can do any harm. But it would be unworthy of the Sorbonne and of theology to employ equivocal and captious terms without giving any explanation of them. In short, fathers, tell me, I entreat you, for the last time, what is necessary to be believed in order to be a good Catholic?”
“You must say,” they all vociferated simultaneously, “that all the righteous have the proximate power, abstracting from it all sense—from the sense of the Thomists and the sense of other divines.”
“That is to say,” I replied, in taking leave of them, “that I must pronounce that word to avoid being the heretic of a name. For, pray, is this a Scripture word?” “No,” said they. “Is it a word of the Fathers, the Councils, or the Popes?” “No.” “Is the word, then, used by St. Thomas?” “No.” “What necessity, therefore, is there for using it, since it has neither the authority of others nor any sense of itself?” “You are an opinionative fellow,” said they; “but you shall say it, or you shall be a heretic, and M. Arnauld into the bargain; for we are the majority, and should it be necessary, we can bring a sufficient number of Cordeliers[[94]] into the field to carry the day.”
On hearing this solid argument, I took my leave of them, to write you the foregoing account of my interview, from which you will perceive that the following points remain undisputed and uncondemned by either party. First, That grace is not given to all men. Second, That all the righteous have always the power of obeying the divine commandments. Third, That they require, nevertheless, in order to obey them, and even to pray, an efficacious grace, which invincibly determines their will. Fourth, That this efficacious grace is not always granted to all the righteous, and that it depends on the pure mercy of God. So that, after all, the truth is safe, and nothing runs any risk but that word without the sense, proximate.
Happy the people who are ignorant of its existence!—happy those who lived before it was born!—for I see no help for it, unless the gentlemen of the Academy,[[95]] by an act of absolute authority, banish that barbarous term, which causes so many divisions, from beyond the precincts of the Sorbonne. Unless this be done, the censure appears certain; but I can easily see that it will do no other harm than diminish the credit[[96]] of the Sorbonne, and deprive it of that authority which is so necessary to it on other occasions.
Meanwhile, I leave you at perfect liberty to hold by the word proximate or not, just as you please; for I love you too much to persecute you under that pretext. If this account is not displeasing to you, I shall continue to apprize you of all that happens.—I am, &c.