“We will all suffer martyrdom first,” cried the father, “rather than consent to the establishment of sufficient grace in the sense of the Jesuits. St. Thomas, whom we have sworn to follow even to the death, is diametrically opposed to such doctrine.”[[101]]
To this my friend, who took up the matter more seriously than I did, replied: “Come now, father, your fraternity has received an honor which it sadly abuses. It abandons that grace which was confided to its care, and which has never been abandoned since the creation of the world. That victorious grace, which was waited for by the patriarchs, predicted by the prophets, introduced by Jesus Christ, preached by St. Paul, explained by St. Augustine, the greatest of the fathers, embraced by his followers, confirmed by St. Bernard, the last of the fathers,[[102]] supported by St. Thomas, the angel of the schools,[[103]] transmitted by him to your order, maintained by so many of your fathers, and so nobly defended by your monks under popes Clement and Paul—that efficacious grace, which had been committed as a sacred deposit into your hands, that it might find, in a sacred and everlasting order, a succession of preachers, who might proclaim it to the end of time—is discarded and deserted for interests the most contemptible. It is high time for other hands to arm in its quarrel. It is time for God to raise up intrepid disciples of the Doctor of grace,[[104]] who, strangers to the entanglements of the world, will serve God for God’s sake. Grace may not, indeed, number the Dominicans among her champions, but champions she shall never want; for, by her own almighty energy, she creates them for herself. She demands hearts pure and disengaged; nay, she herself purifies and disengages them from worldly interests, incompatible with the truths of the Gospel. Reflect seriously on this, father; and take care that God does not remove this candlestick from its place, leaving you in darkness, and without the crown, as a punishment for the coldness which you manifest to a cause so important to his Church.”[[105]]
He might have gone on in this strain much longer, for he was kindling as he advanced, but I interrupted him by rising to take my leave, and said: “Indeed, my dear father, had I any influence in France, I should have it proclaimed, by sound of trumpet: ‘Be it known to all men, that when the Jacobins SAY that sufficient grace is given to all, they MEAN that all have not the grace which actually suffices!’ After which, you might say it as often as you please, but not otherwise.” And thus ended our visit.
You will perceive, therefore, that we have here a politic sufficiency somewhat similar to proximate power. Meanwhile I may tell you, that it appears to me that both the proximate power and this same sufficient grace may be safely doubted by anybody, provided he is not a Jacobin.[[106]]
I have just come to learn, when closing my letter, that the censure[[107]] has passed. But as I do not yet know in what terms it is worded, and as it will not be published till the 15th of February, I shall delay writing you about it till the next post.—I am, &c.
REPLY OF THE “PROVINCIAL” TO THE FIRST TWO LETTERS OF HIS FRIEND.
February 2, 1656.
Sir,—Your two letters have not been confined to me. Everybody has seen them, everybody understands them, and everybody believes them. They are not only in high repute among theologians—they have proved agreeable to men of the world, and intelligible even to the ladies.
In a communication which I lately received from one of the gentlemen of the Academy—one of the most illustrious names in a society of men who are all illustrious—who had seen only your first letter, he writes me as follows: “I only wish that the Sorbonne, which owes so much to the memory of the late cardinal,[[108]] would acknowledge the jurisdiction of his French Academy. The author of the letter would be satisfied; for, in the capacity of an academician, I would authoritatively condemn, I would banish, I would proscribe—I had almost said exterminate—to the extent of my power, this proximate power, which makes so much noise about nothing, and without knowing what it would have. The misfortune is, that our academic ‘power’ is a very limited and remote power. I am sorry for it; and still more sorry that my small power cannot discharge me from my obligations to you,” &c.
My next extract is from the pen of a lady, whom I shall not indicate in any way whatever. She writes thus to a female friend who had transmitted to her the first of your letters: “You can have no idea how much I am obliged to you for the letter you sent me—it is so very ingenious, and so nicely written. It narrates, and yet it is not a narrative; it clears up the most intricate and involved of all possible matters; its raillery is exquisite; it enlightens those who know little about the subject, and imparts double delight to those who understand it. It is an admirable apology; and, if they would so take it, a delicate and innocent censure. In short, that letter displays so much art, so much spirit, and so much judgment, that I burn with curiosity to know who wrote it,” &c.