"Is the notion of liberty (asks M. Vitet) alien and unknown to Christianity? Was it never enforced within its bosom? Did the church never practise it? On the contrary, did not liberty surround her cradle? Was it not in the church that arose a whole system of elections, debates, and control, which has become both the glory and rightful goal of our modern institutions? To make peace with liberty, to live cheerfully in its company, to understand and bless its favors, is that the same thing as to absolve its errors? Is that to concede one jot to misrule and anarchy? 'No,' will reply some good people; 'for God's sake, don't mix up religion with party questions. Don't drag her into such quarrels. The more she keeps aloof from the affairs of this world the more steadfast will be her empire.' Granted; and above we have insisted upon this truth; but still, however disengaged from politics, from worldly interests however absorbed in prayer and good works we may suppose religious people and the clergy, still how could they live here below in an utter state of ignorance as to what was going on? Were it but to attack the vices, the baseness, the disorders of our age, must they not know them, witness them, with their own eyes? We put the question to those pious souls who are scared at the very association of the two words—liberty and religion. Are we not delighted that eloquent voices should condemn and brand in the holy pulpit the vagaries of our modern spirit, the revolutionary frenzy, and all those impious doctrines which are a scourge to society? Well, if religion is right in waging war against false liberty, why should not she be entitled to speak of sound liberty? Why not encourage her to speak of it with kindness and sympathy, duly appreciating its generous tendencies, making it both beloved and fully understood? Otherwise, what sort of Christianity is yours, and what do you believe to be its fate? Are you not making of it a narrow, contracted doctrine—a privilege of the few—the tardy and solitary consolation of old age or grief? If of Christianity you ask nothing more, if you are satisfied with allowing it to live on just enough to show that it is not dying, like one of those ruins protected by antiquarians, and never used, though objects of general reverence—why then you must separate it from the rising generations, from an overflowing democracy; you must allow it to become isolated and to grow old—to bury itself complacently in the past, in contempt for the present, just like a scolding, querulous, morose, unpopular old gentleman. But if better apprehending its true destiny, you wish Christianity to obtain a salutary influence not only over yourself and your friends, but over all mankind, let it penetrate into the hearts of all your brethren, young and old, low and high; let it fire them with the spirit of justice and truth; let it transform them, straighten their paths, purify them, regenerate them, by speaking their own language, by taking interest in their ideas, by yielding to their wishes, without either weakness or flattery, just as a kind father draws around him all his children by making himself once more young among them, by consenting to their requests while he corrects their faults, guards them against the dangers of life, and teaches them the narrow, severe paths of wisdom and truth." [Footnote 115]
[Footnote 115: Revue des Deux Mondes, Feb. 1, 1867. The above article, written by M. Vitet, member of the French Academy, will certainly well repay the reader's perusal, and enlighten him as to the situation of Catholicism in France. It is indeed astonishing that such a paper should have been published by that truly infidel periodical; in fact, Paris readers are fully aware that the editor consented with the greatest difficulty to its insertion. But then he had of late lost so many Catholic subscribers.]
A leaning, then, toward the cause of civil and political freedom might probably become a powerful help to Catholics in the present and future crisis by which the world is now threatened. As M. Vitet very properly remarks, they would not have to sacrifice one single principle; and such an attitude on their part might pave the way for many a conversion. Yet such a help is evidently but a poor one after all—a mere matter of expediency. It is from above and in herself that the church must look for her real helps. And here we are brought round at once to a strong resemblance between the actual state of society and that of the fourth century after Christ. The result of a most extraordinary progress in physical science has bent the minds of men toward sensual enjoyment and money making. "Put money in your purse" seems now the motto of almost every living man, and in England more than in any country. But we may already see what are the effects of this ruling passion, and how it gnaws at the very vitals of our social body. The only means of counteracting this fatal craving are the same through which Christianity conquered the heathen world. Evidently Catholicism alone commands those means, for it is hardly worth while to take into account that bastard, inconsistent system, yeleped Protestantism, which has arrived at its lowest period as a spiritual doctrine, and rather promotes than checks the materialistic tendencies of the day. So to set, as in olden times, bright example of asceticism, humility, charity, self-renouncement, strong faith, and a no less strong love of the poor—such are the chief weapons of the church in her warfare against her antagonists. Most fortunately, she appears at present to put forth her best approved armory in this respect; for never, whether among the clergy or laity, did there exist a more exalted ideal of Christian perfection, nor a stronger will to carry that ideal into execution. Half the work is done, and we have but to maintain our ground manfully in front of our common enemy to win the day.
And yet the day may not be ours. Another world, another form of society may reap the harvest that we have sown. When St. Ambrose and Theodosius, like two brave swimmers, breasted the wave of corruption, quickly followed by the wave of invasion, they fondly imagined, perhaps, that they were securing once more the props of Roman society, or founding a thoroughly Christian empire. Ambrose above all, a true Roman of the old stock, could apprehend no other institutions, no other government but those which had borne the test of a thousand years. Though a saint and a statesman, he could not read the signs of the times; and if he could not, who could? The future was in the hands of God; Ambrose labored and toiled for nations yet unborn, but which were already bursting the womb of their mother Europe. Yea! and so may it be with the men of our own generation.
From the Italian of Manzoni.
The Death of Napoleon. [Footnote 116]
[Footnote 116: The translation of this poem from the Italian of Alexander Manzoni was made by the late Rev. Thomas Mulledy, Provincial Superior of the Jesuits of Maryland. Manzoni is a standard writer in Italy, and the ode "Il Cinque di Maggio" is a household poem with the Italians.]
May 5, 1821.
He's gone: as void of motion lay,
When the last breath had winged its way,
His stiffened corse—of such a soul
Bereft so struck from pole to pole,
The astonished world astounded hung,
When in its ears his death knell rung:
Silent in dumb reflective power
It mused upon the final hour
Of that great man—that man of fate,
And knows not, if with equal weight
A mortal foot shall ever press
Its bloody dust with such success.