“I expected nothing less,” said I, “from a book edited by four-and-twenty Jesuits.”
“But,” added the monk, “Father Bauny has gone beyond this; he has taught valets how to perform these sorts of offices for their masters quite innocently, by making them direct their intention, not to the sins to which they are accessary, but to the gain which is to accrue from them. In his Summary of Sins, p. 710, first edition, he thus states the matter: ‘Let confessors observe,’ says he, ‘that they cannot absolve valets who perform base errands, if they consent to the sins of their masters; but the reverse holds true, if they have done the thing merely from a regard to their temporal emolument.’ And that, I should conceive, is no difficult matter to do; for why should they insist on consenting to sins of which they taste nothing but the trouble? The same Father Bauny has established a prime maxim in favor of those who are not content with their wages: ‘May servants who are dissatisfied with their wages, use means to raise them by laying their hands on as much of the property of their masters as they may consider necessary to make the said wages equivalent to their trouble? They may, in certain circumstances; as when they are so poor that, in looking for a situation, they have been obliged to accept the offer made to them, and when other servants of the same class are gaining more than they, elsewhere.’”
“Ha, father!” cried I, “that is John d’Alba’s passage, I declare.”
“What John d’Alba?” inquired the father: “what do you mean?”
“Strange, father!” returned I: “do you not remember what happened in this city in the year 1647? Where in the world were you living at that time?”
“I was teaching cases of conscience in one of our colleges far from Paris,” he replied.
“I see you don’t know the story, father: I must tell it you. I heard it related the other day by a man of honor, whom I met in company. He told us that this John d’Alba, who was in the service of your fathers in the College of Clermont, in the Rue St. Jacques, being dissatisfied with his wages, had purloined something to make himself amends; and that your fathers, on discovering the theft, had thrown him into prison on the charge of larceny. The case was reported to the court, if I recollect right, on the 16th of April, 1647; for he was very minute in his statements, and indeed they would hardly have been credible otherwise. The poor fellow, on being questioned, confessed to having taken some pewter plates, but maintained that for all that he had not stolen them; pleading in his defence this very doctrine of Father Bauny, which he produced before the judges, along with a pamphlet by one of your fathers, under whom he had studied cases of conscience, and who had taught him the same thing. Whereupon M. De Montrouge, one of the most respected members of the court, said, in giving his opinion, ‘that he did not see how, on the ground of the writings of these fathers—writings containing a doctrine so illegal, pernicious, and contrary to all laws, natural, divine, and human, and calculated to ruin all families, and sanction all sorts of household robbery—they could discharge the accused. But his opinion was, that this too faithful disciple should be whipped before the college gate, by the hand of the common hangman; and that, at the same time, this functionary should burn the writings of these fathers which treated of larceny, with certification that they were prohibited from teaching such doctrine in future, upon pain of death.’
“The result of this judgment, which was heartily approved of, was waited for with much curiosity when some incident occurred which made them delay procedure. But in the mean time the prisoner disappeared, nobody knew how, and nothing more was heard about the affair; so that John d’Alba got off, pewter plates and all. Such was the account he gave us, to which he added, that the judgment of M. De Montrouge was entered on the records of the court, where any one may consult it. We were highly amused at the story.”
“What are you trifling about now?” cried the monk. “What does all that signify? I was explaining the maxims of our casuists, and was just going to speak of those relating to gentlemen, when you interrupt me with impertinent stories.”
“It was only something put in by the way, father,” I observed; “and besides, I was anxious to apprize you of an important circumstance, which I find you have overlooked in establishing your doctrine of probability.”