But how ought this charity to act? In the same way as all the virtues of Catholicity. This divine religion, which has come down from the loftiest regions, and constantly raises the human mind to sublime meditations, presents at the same time a singular characteristic, whereby she is distinguished from all the schools and sects who have attempted to imitate her. In spite of the spirit of abstraction, if I may so speak, which holds her continually detached from earthly things, she has nothing vague, unsubstantial, or merely theoretical. With her, all is speculative and practical, sublime and simple; she adapts and accommodates herself to all that is compatible with the truth of her dogmas and the severity of her maxims. While her eyes are fixed on heaven, she forgets not that she is on earth, and that she has to deal with mortal men, subject to miseries and calamities. With one hand she shows them eternity, with the other she succors their misfortunes, solaces their pains, and dries up their tears. She does not content herself with barren words; the love of our neighbor is to her nothing, if that love does not manifest itself in giving bread to him who is hungry, drink to him who is thirsty; in clothing the naked, consoling the afflicted, visiting the sick, solacing the prisoner, and redeeming the captive. To make use of an expression of this age, I will say that religion is eminently positive. Wherefore she labors to realize her ideas by means of beneficent and fruitful institutions, thereby distinguishing herself from human philosophy, the pompous language and gigantic projects of which form so miserable a contrast with the littleness and nothingness of its works. Religion speaks little, but she meditates and executes as the worthy daughter of that infinite Being who, although absorbed in the contemplation of an ocean of light, His own essence and His impenetrable nature, has not the less created the universe the object of our admiration, and ceases not to preserve it with ineffable goodness, while governing it with incomprehensible wisdom.
It was necessary to go to the succor of the unhappy captives; assuredly, therefore, we should applaud the idea of a vast association, which, extending over all the countries of Europe, and placing itself in connection with all the Christians who would give alms in favor of so holy a work, would have in its service a certain number of individuals always ready to traverse the seas, and resolved to brave slavery and death for the redemption of their brethren. Numerous means would be thus combined, and the good employment of the funds would be secured. There was a certainty that the negotiations for the redemption of captives would be conducted by men of zeal and experience; in a word, such an association would completely fulfil its object; and when it was established, the Christians might hope for the most prompt and efficacious succor. Now, this was precisely the idea realized in the foundation of the religious orders for the redemption of captives.
The religious who embraced these orders bound themselves by vow to the accomplishment of this work of charity. Free from the embarrassments of family relations and worldly interests, they could devote themselves to their task with all the ardor of their zeal. Long voyages, the perils of the sea, the danger of unhealthy climates, or the ferocity of the Infidels—nothing stopped them. In their dress, in the prayers of their institution, they found a constant remembrance of the vow which they had taken in the Divine presence. Neither repose, comfort, nor even their very lives, any longer belong to them; all are become the property of the unhappy captives, who groan in the dungeons or wear heavy chains in presence of their masters, on the other side of the Mediterranean. The families of the unhappy victims, fixing their eyes on the religious, required of him the accomplishment of his promise; their groans and lamentations continually urge him to find means, and to expose his life, if necessary, to restore the father to the son, the son to the father, the husband to the wife, the innocent young girl to her desolate mother.
From the earliest ages of Christianity we see great zeal displayed for the redemption of captives, which has always been preserved, and the inspiration of which from that time has called forth the greatest sacrifices. The seventeenth chapter of this work, and the notes attached to it, have incontestably proved this truth; and it is not necessary that I should stay to confirm it here. Yet I will not lose the opportunity of observing that the Church, in the present case, as in all circumstances, has adopted her constant rule, viz. to realize her ideas by means of institutions. If you observe her conduct attentively, you will find that she begins by teaching and highly extolling a virtue; then she mildly persuades men to put it in practice; the practice extends and gains strength, and what was merely a good work becomes for some a work of obligation; what was a simple wise act is converted into a strict duty for some select men. At all times has the Church been engaged in the redemption of captives; at all times some Christians of heroic charity have stripped themselves of their property, of their liberty, to accomplish this work of mercy; but this care was still left to the discretion of the faithful, and no bodies of men existed to represent this charitable idea. New necessities arise; the ordinary means do not suffice; it is necessary that aid should be collected with promptitude, and employed with discernment; charity, as it were, requires an arm always ready to execute her orders; a permanent institution becomes necessary; the institution appears, and the want is satisfied.
We are so accustomed to see the beautiful and the sublime in the work of religion, that we scarcely observe the greatest prodigies there, in the same way as, while profiting by the benefits of nature, we look upon her most wonderful works and productions with an eye of indifference. The different religious institutions which, under various forms, have appeared since the beginning of Christianity, are worthy of exciting in the highest degree the astonishment of the philosopher and the Christian; but I doubt whether it be possible to find in the whole history of these institutions any thing more beautiful, interesting, and touching, than the picture of the orders for the redemption of captives. Does there exist a more admirable symbol of religion protecting the unfortunate? Which is the most sublime emblem of the redemption consummated on Calvary and extending itself to earthly captivity? Is it not the celebrated vision which preceded the establishment of the holy institutes of Mercy and the Trinity? Some will say that these apparitions were only chimeras and mere illusions! Happy are those illusions, we will reply, which produce the consolation of the human race! However this may be, we will here recall these visions, braving, if necessary, the smiles of the incredulous. If they have preserved in their hearts any generous feelings, they will be compelled to allow that if these visions appear to them devoid of all historical truth, there is at least in the sublime sacrifice which is made by the man who devotes himself to slavery for the ransom of his brethren, a lofty poetry, a sincere love of the human race, an ardent desire to succor them, and an heroic disinterestedness.
A doctor of the University of Paris, known by his virtues and his wisdom, had just been raised to the priesthood, and celebrated for the first time the holy sacrifice of the altar. In consideration of these exalted favors of the Most High, he redoubles his ardor, he excites his faith, and endeavors to offer to the Lamb without spot, with all the recollection, purity, and fervor of which he is capable, his heart inundated with favors and inflamed by charity. He knows not how to manifest to God his profound gratitude for so great a benefit; his lively desire is to be able to prove to Him in some way his gratitude and his love. He who had said, "What you have done to one of my little children you have done to myself," immediately showed him a way to exhibit the fire of his charity. The vision begins: the priest sees an angel whose dress is white as snow and as brilliant as light; the angel wears on his breast a red and blue cross; at his sides are two captives, the one a Christian, the other a Moor; he places his hands over the heads of each. At this sight, the priest, ravished into ecstasy, understands that God calls him to the holy work of the redemption of captives; but before going any further, he retires into solitude, and devotes himself for three years to prayer and penance, humbly begging of the Lord that He would make known to him His sovereign will. In the desert he met with a pious hermit; the two solitaries aid each other by their prayers and examples. One day, when they were absorbed in pious communication by the side of a fountain, a stag suddenly appears to them bearing on his horns the mysterious cross of two colors. The priest relates to his astonished companion the first vision which he has had; both redouble their prayers and penances; both receive the celestial admonition for the third time. Then, unwilling any longer to defer the accomplishment of the Divine pleasure, they hasten to Rome, and ask of the Sovereign Pontiff his counsels and permission. The Pope, who at the same time had had a similar vision, joyfully accedes to the request of the two pious solitaries; the order of the Most Holy Trinity for the Redemption of Captives is thus established. The priest was called John of Matha; the hermit, Felix of Valois. They apply with ardent zeal to their work of charity; after having dried up the tears of numbers of unhappy beings, they now receive in heaven the reward of their labors. The Church, wishing to celebrate their memories, has placed them on her altars.
The foundation of the order of Mercy had a similar origin. St. Peter Nolasco, having spent all he possessed in the redemption of captives, had sought in vain for new resources to continue his pious undertaking. He had set himself to pray, in order to strengthen himself in his holy resolution of selling his own liberty, or remaining himself a captive in the place of some of his brethren. During his prayer the Blessed Virgin appeared to him; she gave him to understand how pleasing the foundation of an order for the redemption of captives would be to herself and her Divine Son. The saint, after consulting the King of Aragon and St. Raymond of Penafort, proceeded to the establishment of the order. He converted into a vow, not only for himself but for all those who embraced the institute, the holy desire which he had previously had to devote himself to slavery for the ransom of his brethren.
I repeat what I have already said: in whatever manner you judge of these apparitions, and if even you attempt to lay them aside altogether as mere illusions, it is not the less proved that the Catholic religion has labored with immense power to relieve a great misfortune, and that no one can call in question the utility of the holy institution in which the heroism of charity is so wonderfully personified. Indeed, supposing that the founder, the dupe of illusions, took for a revelation from heaven what was only the inspiration of ardent zeal, do not the benefits lavished on the unhappy captives remain the same? We hear much of illusions; but certain it is that these illusions produced a reality. When St. Peter Armengol, wanting all resources to deliver some unfortunates, remained as a hostage in their place, and when the day of ransom had expired, resigned himself to be hung because the money had not arrived from Europe, the illusions certainly did not remain sterile. What reality could produce greater prodigies of zeal and heroism? Long ago have the things of religion been condemned as illusions and madness; from the earliest times of Christianity the mystery of the cross was treated as folly; but we do not see that this prevented the pretended folly from changing the face of the world.