Chapter III (6)

On the eve of this last change, that was almost another death, the young girl sat with clasped hands on the wide window-sill, and gazed with sad yet steadfast eyes on the beauty of the breaking day. To her it was indeed a setting forth on a journey without scrip or staff, without guide or compass. In her love for her father, she gloried in his grand, manly act, though it drove her forth into the desert world; but though she rejoiced at his stern following of principle, as at a deed of heroism in itself, yet what comfort was there for her in the dreary waste of an untried world? To set out on the road to heaven, leaving the paths of men, was one thing; but to leave the known for the unknown, the real life of human sympathy for a dark, companionless one among things that were only shadows and mocking figures of mist--what was that? And would human love carry her through? Could she follow, by the glow-worm light of an earthly though hallowed feeling, the same path in which a fiery pillar preceded her father's soul, and angels guided his footsteps? But come what might, she would try; so she had resolved from the beginning. Besides, was it not she who had, according to the instinct of her true nature, decided for her father the step his own conscience had counselled, but from which his human love still weakly recoiled? And, therefore, was she not bound to share his fortunes, even though love had not impelled her to do so? She could not pray that this day's work might end in good, she could not pray for strength or guidance; she could only helplessly gaze upon the familiar home-scene she had watched so often from that window--the spread of orchard and garden and meadow-land beyond, the golden lights flickering among the shrubs, and playing with the soft, changing shadows--all the beauty that had been her soul's book for years, and was now the only book she could still read and love as of old. A sort of dumb prayer was that wistful gaze, the hopeless, half-conscious murmur of paralyzed lips striving to form once more sounds that long ago, they remember, used to mean _something_ to the understanding. Little George at this moment ran across the lawn after a yellow butterfly, and looked up fearfully at the library-window, as if expecting to be reproved for such unwonted exercise on the sacred day.

Grace started and looked at her watch. It was time; the bells had been ringing some minutes, and the hour was drawing nigh. She stole down to her father's side, very solemn and quiet, and took his hand. He turned and clasped her in his arms.

"God will bless you yet, my little one," he said, with an earnest look into her brave eyes, "for all you are to me."

Hand-in-hand they walked the short distance between their cottage and the meeting-house. The great trees stood protectingly round the little church, shading it like a temple, with broad shadows flung like curtains before its doors, as if to supplement the bareness in which human hands had left it. The people were crowding in; some stepped aside as the minister passed, making room for him; others nodded to him, and were startled at the unwonted look in his far-searching eyes. Grace, on the contrary, seemed almost defiant, as if she thought of nothing save the storm which one short hour would bring about her darling's head. The congregation seated themselves with that undertone of quiet rustling peculiar to country audiences. Grace sat directly facing her father; but she had turned herself so that her features were visible to those who sat in the nearest pews behind. Edward Seymour slowly came up the pulpit stairs, and stood before his people. One long, sweeping glance he gave them, then his eyes went upward, and a light came into them, as of something more than human.

The crowd was thrilled, and men and women gazed at each other inquiringly.

Then he began: "My friends, I have come to say farewell to you. This is no sermon, but an explanation which is due to you. I am not going to leave you for the city, nor for another flock, nor for the retirement of a college-life. It is not a man who has called me, it is not the world or my own interests that have bidden me leave you; it is God.

"Truly, 'God's ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts.' If you will bear with me, I will show you how this has been borne in upon me, and will give you, what you have a right to hear, the brief history of the change which is calling me away from you."

The interest of his hearers was acutely, if not painfully, awakened; every one waited breathlessly for the novel experiences of one who had always seemed so strong in the belief he taught. Some thought he had turned to the Methodist views, some suspected him of Episcopalian leanings; of the truth, not one had the slightest inkling, for, to their minds, such a change was more irrational than suicide, and more awful a judgment than insanity.

Step by step, with clear, sharp-cutting words, he developed the doubts and fears of his soul; he dissected his life for the last year, and showered Bible texts upon his hearers in his rapid way that would have been impassioned had he let it be; and when, one after the other, he had sapped all the axioms his former teaching had rested on, and had carried the mind of his audience, against its will, out of the sphere of certainty, he then paused a moment, and said in a more gentle voice than he had used in his dogmatic course:

"And now, my friends, what remains to be said? This: to confess my mistake before you all, to humble myself at the feet of God, whom I have so long misunderstood and mistaught, and to ask your forgiveness for having given you, in my ignorance, stones when you asked for bread, serpents when you cried for food. You know the church which alone teaches all that God has now shown me to be true; you know that it is a church flouted and condemned, persecuted and poor--none other than the Holy Roman Catholic Church (here the stir was like an electric shock among the rapt audience, and Grace half rose up in her seat, and looked defiance from her flashing eyes upon her nearest neighbors), none other than was founded in the poverty of Bethlehem, the ignominy of Calvary, the secrecy of the catacombs.

"I have but few words left to say to you, my friends. We have walked together for many years, seeking God. I knew not that I had not found him; _now_ I know that I walked in darkness and in the shadow of death. I pray that each of you, in God's appointed time, may be led, like me, to find him. I thank him that this grace should come with sorrow, exile, and poverty in its train. I take up the cross willingly, and leave home and country, and a beloved grave, and a people to whom my soul was knit, to follow humbly where God shall lead me. And now, once again farewell, and may God bless you, every one, and reward you for all that your friendship and your fidelity have ever done for him who was once your pastor."

With a grave and simple salutation, he went down the pulpit stairs, passed out of the church, his daughter eagerly joining him and linking her arm in his. Her English cousin, who had come in late to the service, hastened after them, and frankly expressed his astonishment at the sudden turn of affairs. The people, who streamed out after them in hurried groups, as if anxious to get into the air, that they might talk over this extraordinary event, eyed them askance as they walked home; the deacons spoke together in shocked whispers, and the older men and women quoted texts about wolves in sheeps' clothing. Some of the younger church members were scared and disturbed more by the uncompromising arguments than by the tangible result; while others, the reckless and the more "unregenerate," boldly said they admired the minister's "pluck."

George Charteris dwelt very seriously on the exclusion from the guardianship of his son which this course of Mr. Seymour's would inevitably entail; but the father only answered sadly: "The Lord did not speak to me of such things; those affairs are in his hands, and his secrets are not for us to inquire into. So far as I saw my way clear, I have answered the call of God."

Several friends called in the evening to speak to the minister about the incredible announcement he had made that morning; they found him the same as ever, patient, kind, and courteous, and his young daughter more beautiful and more attractive than before; for the determined way in which she supported her father's conduct gave her a touch of the heroine.

Late that night the two visited the moonlit grave near the little church. Great elm-shadows veiled it, and the night-wind rustled the violet and primrose leaves that bordered it all round. In the summer a cross of heliotrope grew at its head, but as yet it had been too cold to put the plants out. In his new-found faith, the husband could now kneel and pray, and speak to the angel guardian of his lost wife, and send messages to the soul that knew all he had so lately learnt, and knew it so much better than he. But the great thing of which he spoke was the future of his children and hers, praying that they too, especially Grace, should be brought to the same knowledge and saved through the same faith. Grace stood like a statue, her hands clasped and resting on her father's shoulder, her slight form bending forward as he knelt. When he rose, she pressed his arm and drew him towards her, looking up into his tear-veiled eyes with looks of hungry love. It was a rare and a piteous sight to see the strong man weep, to see the wave-like emotion of this solemn hour bow the head of the deep thinker, the calm and kingly scholar. It made him more sacred in her sight, and kindled her rapturous feelings to that degree that she could gladly have died, that he might be spared one pang more in his future path of thorns.

He hardly suspected _all_ that he was to his child; for great though his love was, broad, and deep, and still, it was silent as the great ocean that sleeps round the islands of coral, beneath the changeless radiance of southern constellations. But few outward signs passed between father and daughter, for his grand, noble nature was self-contained and grave; and for that very reason Grace honored him in her heart, calling him to herself a hero among men. Was it strange that, by his side, other men seemed dwarfed, that their virtues seemed shallow, and their very vices more contemptible than horrible? Was it strange that his intellect, so far-reaching, and his practical business abilities, so clear and straight-forward, should make other men seem only half men, with one side of their nature alone monstrously developed, till it grew to overbalance the other, and make the whole into a grotesque travesty of humanity, a moral satyr, more beast than man, and more fool than either?

I do not say that such ungracious thoughts came to her when she noticed her cousin, George Charteris; but something hollow and unreal suggested itself to her, as she listened to his brilliant, frivolous talk or his cynical, off-hand observations. She thought, if that is what modern fashion breeds in men, the world of to-day is no better than a smelting-furnace, obliterating all but the changing current of mingled ore and dross constantly running with aimless speed through its many channels. She looked forward to any contact with it as a trial, and only stayed herself with the idea that everything noble and pure and dignified was embodied in her father's life, in which she would always be wrapped up. Yet she had promised to think of marriage!

The day following this eventful Sunday the Seymour family left Walcot. Their cottage, which was their own property, was to be let for a year, as their affairs were still unsettled and their plans quite undecided. From that day Edward Seymour again felt that a new journey had begun for him; and where his soul would be landed he knew not, nor cared to know, so God was before him and his daughter at his side.

TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.

CUI BONO?

Pale star, if star thou be, that art
So fain to shine, though far apart
From all thy stately peers;
Thou whom the eye can scarce discern--
Oh! who hath set thee there to burn
Among the spheres?

Thou com'st too late: the firmament
Is full, and thou wast never meant
For yonder gorgeous steep;
The night hath counted all her pearls,
And, pillow'd on her casket, furls
Her wings in sleep.

The night needs not thy tardy ray;
Thou canst not usher in the day,
Nor make the twilight fair;
What sailor turns to thee at sea?
What mourner doth look up to thee
In his despair?

Mournful or glad, no eye shall chance
To light on thee; no curious glance
Thy motions shall discern;
No lonely pilgrim pause to catch
Thy parting ray, nor lover watch
For thy return.

Oh! leave the world that loves thee not--
For who shall mark the vacant spot?
Oh! drop into the cloud
That waits to take thee out of sight,
Beyond the glare of yonder bright
And chilly crowd!

"I may not, if I would, return
Into the dark, or cease to burn
My spark of light divine:
For he that in my lamp distils
The sacred oil, he surely wills
That I should shine.

"I fret not at the blaze of spheres,
The distant splendor that endears
The night to men; but strive--
Finding strange bliss in perfect calm--
To keep with these few drops of balm
My flame alive.

"It may be that some vagrant world,
Or aimless atom, toss'd and whirl'd
Through windy tracts of space,
Perceives by me the Hand that tends
It ever, and the goal that ends
Its tedious race.

"I know not: me this only care
Concerns, that I for ever bear
My silver lamp on high,
Nor lift to God a laggard flame,
Because on earth I cannot claim
A partial eye."

THE JANSENIST SCHISM IN HOLLAND.

JANSENISM IN THE CHURCH OF UTRECHT.

FROM LES ETUDES RELIGIEUSES. BY C. VAN AKEN.

I.

I shall not undertake to write the history of Netherland Jansenism. I have a more special purpose in view; it is to demonstrate the actual existence of that heresy in the so-called Church of Utrecht. To this end, I shall, after showing what the principles of Jansenism are, make it clear that the errors of Baius, as developed, or, so to say, amended, by Jansenius, are reproduced by Quesnel, and are to be found in the false Synod of Pistoia. This assembly, held in 1786, under the authority of Leopold II., Grand Duke of Tuscany, and presided over by Scipio Ricci, Bishop of Pistoia and Prato, merits our attention; for the principal documents I shall make use of in this paper concern the official adhesion given by the schismatical clergy of Holland to the synod.[203] As to the events which are related and admitted by all historians, I shall only refer to them in order to point out their significance, or to dissipate the obscurity in which the recent promoters of the schism have sought to envelope facts.

"Jansenius had been a great reader of S. Augustine; but he brought to the study of this author far more of zeal than of prudence or real knowledge. In some passages he renders the thoughts of the Doctor of Grace well enough; almost everywhere else, and even in the most important points, he is grossly in error. An extensive reader he was not; one author alone absorbed his whole life, and the more he dwelt upon his author, the less he understood him. His posthumous work is bad, impious, and truly heretical. Calvin, as Jansenius presents him, is no longer Calvin."

Thus writes F. Denis Petau (author of _Dogmes Théologiques_ and _Doctrine des Temps_) to F. Bollandus, August 9, 1641, shortly after the publication of the celebrated _Augustinus_. The Calvinists of Holland have taken the same view as F. Petau; for them Jansenius is an ally, a friend, whose opinions are less opposed to theirs in substance than in form. Did not the Bishop of Ypres candidly acknowledge that he "almost entirely" approved the Calvinist Synod of Dordrecht? The Abbé of Saint-Cyran, another patriarch of Jansenism, remarked: "Calvin thought justly, but expressed himself ill--_bene sensit, male locutus est_." However, there are important differences between the two heresies; but it would take us too much out of our way to indicate them in detail. These words of the false Synod of Pistoia perfectly express the germinal idea of Jansenism: "In these latter days a general obscurity prevails in regard to the most important truths of religion.... It is necessary, therefore, to remount to the pure source of the principles which have been obscured by novelties, in order to establish a uniformity of doctrine which shall be a subject of edification for the faithful, and gratify the wishes of our most religious prince.... To establish this unity of principles, the enlightened sovereign suggests to the bishops to take for their rule the doctrine of S. Augustine against the Pelagians and the semi-Pelagians, who, through their system, have destroyed the spirit of the Christian religion, and preached a new gospel."[204] It must needs follow from this that the authority of the church is not an efficacious remedy against error, since it was possible for the general belief of the faithful to be obscured for centuries in regard to the most important truths.

Is this in any wise different from what the reformers of the XVIth century pretended? Did not Calvin, especially, have always in his mouth the name of the great Bishop of Hippo? Jansenius develops the same thought in his preliminary work, _De Ratione et Auctoritate_.[205] Baius had prepared the way for him.[206] For the authority of the teaching church, always youthful and full of life, as S. Irenæus says, the Jansenists substituted S. Augustine, who was no longer at hand to protest against the abuse that had been made of his words--words often rugged and obscure. So much for the general ground; let us now enter into detail.

Following Baius, Jansenius sets out with this fundamental axiom, which is, as it were, the culminating point whence one takes in his whole system: The complete man is not a compound of body and soul only (as the Catholic doctrine declares, in consonance with sound philosophy); but a third principle, the Holy Ghost, the sole source of all wisdom, of all charity, is necessary, in order to complete the rational being, and to render him worthy of his Creator and of his natural destiny.[207] Without this grace--for so Jansenius considered it--body and soul constitute only a sensual and animal being, defenceless against all evil desires, and incapable of rising to the knowledge and love of good. The immediate consequence of these principles is that God could not create man without bestowing upon him the Holy Ghost and all the other gifts which faith manifests to us in our first parents.[208]

These were, no doubt, so many graces, says Jansenius; but these graces were none the less due to human nature, which without them would have been incomplete.[209]

"The first man was created in a state of _perfect_ innocence, and could not come forth otherwise from the hand of God. The idea of any other state whatever is a chimera which would degrade humanity and openly conflict with the perfections of a sovereign Providence. Faith teaches us that Adam was established in justice and charity. He therefore loved his Creator, and had within himself no perverse inclination."[210] Thus speak the sectaries of Pistoia, faithful interpreters of Jansenist thought. The church has condemned this conclusion; she teaches us that God could have created man as he is born at present, without sin, to be sure, but still without that _perfect_ innocence which consists in the supernatural and purely gratuitous gifts of charity and integrity.[211]

However, sin entered into the world, and at one blow man lost all the gifts of the Holy Ghost: he had fallen into that abnormal state of incompleteness in which God could not have established him in the beginning. "He hastened from darkness to darkness, from error to error, from sin to sin: powerless to deliver himself from that love which held him attached to himself."[212] But "the infected root must (by a physical necessity, as Jansenius says)[213] produce defective and corrupt fruit. He transmits to his children, therefore, in the order of generation, ignorance of good and a vicious inclination to evil."[214] This is original sin, according to the Jansenists.

The Catholic Church, in whose eyes sin is above all a moral disorder, teaches that ignorance and concupiscence are not sins, but the consequence of the first transgression, and the occasion to man in his fallen state of voluntarily committing new sins.

Jansenius exaggerates from the first the extent of the wound which ignorance caused in us. The fallen man, according to him, is no longer possessed of organs for perceiving the truths which concern the higher interests of the soul; God, the future life, natural right, are so many closed books, which revelation alone can open for us.[215] This is a sort of religious scepticism, often revived since, and always rejected by sound theology. It is the real source also, we may be sure, of the peculiar mysticism which has flourished among the Jansenists from the beginning. By a natural consequence, Jansenius treats reason and science as enemies of faith; he would have them banished afar from theology. It is not intelligence, says he, but memory, and, above all, the heart, which penetrates revelation.[216] Is this the same as to say that the adversaries of the _Augustinus_ have opened the door to modern rationalism, as Sainte-Beuve insinuates? By no means. Between the two errors lies the truth as proclaimed by the Scriptures and the fathers, maintained by the sovereign pontiffs, and definitely decided in the Holy Council of the Vatican.[217]

Ignorance, the fruit of sin, is itself imputed as sin, say the Jansenists; in other words, we are guilty before God of the faults into which ignorance causes us to fall unwittingly and in spite of ourselves.[218] This is also the teaching of Scipio Ricci's false synod. Pelagius, we are told by it, "could not understand why the ignorance of good which is born with us, which is _necessarily_ transmitted to us in the order of generation, and by which man falls into error without wishing to, and in spite of himself--_invitus ac nolens_--ought not to excuse sin."[219]

Pelagius, who denied the fact of the original fall, would not admit that ignorance, the consequence of the fall, was an evil or a weakness, especially in view of man's supernatural end; but faith, equally with good sense, forbids our maintaining that one can be guilty without willing to be so--_invitus ac nolens_.

The second wound of man in his fallen state is denominated concupiscence. In the system of Jansenius "it is a movement of the soul which leads to the enjoyment of self and of other creatures for some other end than God. It is, therefore, an affection of the soul contrary to order, and _bad in itself_. Hence it is that man without grace (that is, deprived of grace), and under the slavery of sin, since cupidity reigns in his heart, whatever effort he may make to withdraw himself from its influence, refers everything to himself, and by the general influence of the love which dominates him, _spoils and corrupts all his actions_."[220] This error of Jansenius has been stigmatized as it deserves in the bulls directed against Baius and Quesnel.[221] These writers present the error under forms the most various; for example, "All that man does without grace is sin. All the works of infidels are sins. The sinner, without grace, is free only for evil."

According to Catholic doctrine, man by his fall has become the slave of sin, and has from himself only sin and falsehood, in the sense that of himself he is for ever incapable of justifying himself from the stain of original sin and from the sins he has voluntarily committed; he can do nothing, absolutely nothing, towards his supernatural destiny; his weakness is so great that, without assistance from on high, he cannot but fall frequently and grievously, especially when assailed by powerful temptations. In these truths there are motives enough for humbling our pride, without needing to go so far as the Jansenists, and say that the necessity of our sinning is an absolute and continual necessity. This theory would be less repulsive if, with the fathers, the abundance of grace were also proclaimed. Christ's redemption, the latter tell us, embraces all time; but his grace is more palpable to us in these days, and more generally diffused. Divine assistance is always at hand, say they unanimously, at the moment it is wanted; so that man can at least call upon God for help, and thus obtain the strength of which he stands in need. Jansenius, on the contrary, pitilessly restrains the measure of liberating grace. Let us hear what the Synod of Pistoia has to say on this subject:

"The Lord willed that, before this plenitude of time [the time of our Saviour's appearance upon earth], mankind should pass through different states. It was his will that man, _abandoned to his own lights_, should learn to distrust his _blind reason_, and that his wanderings should thus lead him to desire the assistance of a superior light. This was the _state of nature_ in which man knew not sin, and suffered himself to be drawn by concupiscence without being aware of it."[222] Thus, then, there was a long series of centuries in which mankind in general were abandoned to ignorance and cupidity, and when, without knowing it, without wishing it, they fell from sin to sin. Is this not frightful? But what follows is still more cruel: "God then gave him a law which brought him to a knowledge of sin. But man, being POWERLESS to observe it, became a prevaricator under the law. Sin became even more widespread, either because the law forbidding it heightened the desire for it, or because prevarication--that is, contempt of the law--was added to its violation.... The law, therefore, was given by God, ... not to heal the wounds of mankind, but to acquaint him with the malady and with the necessity of a remedy."[223] Thus viewed, the law of Sinai is an injustice and a subject of derision.

Finally, "The Son of God descended from the bosom of his Father and brought salvation."[224] Now, at least, grace, like a current of life, will pass into the veins of languishing humanity! Alas! no; the further we advance the more disheartening becomes the doctrine of Jansenius. He acknowledges at the outset that progress in the individual follows the same course as in the species. I will explain his thought: many men, even under the Christian law, have not the gift of faith--they are in the _state of nature_; others are enlightened by the rays of divine revelation or by the interior light of grace--they are in a state analogous to that of men under the law. "While earthly love reigns in the heart, the light of grace, if it be alone, produces the same effect as the law.... It is necessary, therefore, that the Lord should create in the heart a holy love, that he should inspire it with a holy delectation, contrary to the love which reigns there. _This holy love, this holy delectation, is, properly speaking, the grace of Jesus Christ_; it is the grace of the New Testament.... Dominant love is a holy passion which operates in man, in regard to God, the same effects which dominant cupidity operates therein in regard to the things of earth."[225] Millions of men are thus excluded from all participation in redeeming grace. Jansenius says distinctly that the graces indispensable to salvation are not accorded at all times except to the small number of the elect; all others receive nothing, or only temporary and insufficient helps, which serve but to render them more guilty. In this sense, the Jansenists refuse to admit that Christ died for the eternal salvation of all men; the predestined alone were comprehended in the great contract by which Jesus, in dying, offered his life, and the Eternal Father accepted his stainless oblation as the price of justifying grace. It is in this sense, also, that the fifth proposition of Jansenius has been condemned as heretical: "It is a semi-Pelagian error to say that Christ died or shed his blood for all men in general."[226]

Hence arose that horrible Jansenist doctrine of predestination, borrowed from Calvin, in which God is made to appear pitiless even in his mercies, the reprobate as a victim less guilty than unfortunate, and the elect one as a spoiled child who ought to blush at his immortal crown.[227]

I shall return to this latter point hereafter. Meanwhile, let us point out another consequence of the doctrine here laid down. If it be true that man is often abandoned by grace, and if, in consequence of his impotence, he necessarily violates the divine commands, must we, then, believe that God orders what is impossible? No doubt of it, reply the Jansenists; Pelagius first dared to deny this consequence--that the just themselves do often lack necessary grace.[228] This monstrous error is expressed in the first proposition of Jansenius, as follows: "Some of God's commandments are impossible to the just in the state of their present strength, whatever will they may have, and whatever efforts they may make; and the grace through which these commandments would become possible to them is wanting."[229] Catholics, with the Council of Trent (session vi. chap. xi.), say quite the contrary. It is a doctrine universally held in the church, and borne out by the unanimous consent of the fathers, that no one is deprived of the graces indispensable to salvation, except through his personal fault. Theologians also, for the most part, teach, with reason, that God confers the grace of conversion on sinners the most obstinate and hardened.

How is it that Jansenius was unable to perceive one of the clearest points of Christian revelation--the infinite mercy of God towards the sinner? It was the inevitable consequence of his doctrine concerning liberty.[230] In his eyes, the equilibrium of the human will has been irreparably lost; man naturally follows the attraction which dominates him.

Without grace, our poor will tends irresistibly to the depths of sin; an evil cupidity dominates it. But let the delectation of divine love take possession of this entirely passive and powerless heart, and it will be drawn to good by an equal necessity. Now, we see but too well that this holy passion which operates in man, in regard to God, the same effects which the dominant cupidity operates in regard to the things of earth, is the privilege of but a small number. One only explanation is possible--all the rest are without grace. Be it observed that, according to the Jansenists, every grace is charity, irresistible, victorious delectation. The _Augustinus_, it is true, speaks of certain _little_ graces which do not at once carry the soul to the heights of perfection. Such as they are, they are none the less efficacious; if their power is not greater, it is because God has not given them more force than they in effect possess. The grace called by the theologians _sufficient_ is held in aversion by the Jansenists; it is a grace which has for them the demerit of not being efficacious.[231] The three following propositions from Jansenius on liberty and grace have been pronounced heretical:

"In order to merit or demerit in the state of fallen nature, it is not necessary that man should have a liberty opposed to necessity (as to willing); it suffices that he should have a liberty opposed to constraint."[232] "In the state of fallen nature, we never resist interior grace."[233] "The semi-Pelagians admitted the necessity of an interior and preventing grace for all actions, even for the beginning of faith; they were heretics in so far as they assumed that grace to be such that the human will could resist it or obey it."[234]

Quesnel renewed every one of these errors,[235] and the Synod of Pistoia gives Quesnel's book an unreserved approbation.[236] Ricci and his adherents tell us, with Jansenius, that the equilibrium of the human will is lost, and that "this idea of equilibrium is a rock against which the enemies of grace" (that is, Catholic theologians) "have dashed themselves." They themselves ignore every grace from Jesus Christ, except that which _creates_ in us a holy love, a holy delectation.[237]

The efficacy of grace, say they, "does not depend on our will, but produces it by changing us from not willing to willing, _through its all-powerful force_.... Far from waiting our consent, grace creates it in us."[238] In the synod's whole body of doctrine, by means of which it aims to bring back the faith to its primitive purity, we find not a word in contradiction of the heretical system of Jansenius; it everywhere follows, on the contrary, the spirit of that system, but carefully avoids reproducing literally any one of the famous five propositions. But we do find in the acts of the synod that celebrated conclusion which concentrates in itself the poison of the Jansenist heresy in its full force: "There are in man two loves, which are, as it were, the two roots of _all_ our actions--cupidity and charity; the first is the bad tree, which can produce only bad fruit, and the second the good tree, which alone produces good works. Where cupidity dominates, charity reigns not; and where charity dominates, cupidity reigns not."[239] As if there were not, remarks Pius VI., lying between culpable love and divine charity, which conducts us to the kingdom of heaven, a legitimate human love![240]

When our common humanity is thus debased and disparaged, a distance is necessarily placed between it and its sole mediator, Jesus Christ, himself man also, but evidently incapable of taking upon himself a nature as incomplete as ours. Hence, the disciples of Jansenius have generally manifested an antipathy to devotions which bring us into intimate relations with the sacred humanity of our Saviour. The tender and Christian devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is especially intolerable to them.[241] As to the Blessed Virgin Mary, her title of Mother of God, so solemnly defined in the Council of Ephesus against Nestorius, hardly finds favor among them. To the Jansenists, Mary is certainly not the Immaculate One who crushes the head of the infernal serpent. They represent her the most frequently as the Virgin depicted by Michael Angelo, trembling and almost hiding before the glance of Christ the judge, on the last day.[242] _Her greatness is terrible_, said the Abbé de Saint-Cyran to Mère Angélique. Could it be otherwise? Could Jansenist fatalism give more room for confidence than for intercession?

May I be permitted to add a last word to this already long analysis? It is said that Jansenism has had the merit of recalling Catholics to a respect for the sacraments.[243] Is this said seriously? Luther had made all spiritual life centre in faith; the sacraments were thus nothing but ceremonies proper to excite this principal sentiment. In place of faith, Baius and Jansenius have substituted charity. Redeeming grace, the divine adoption, justice, holiness, all these they identify with love, as Luther identified them with faith. Now, I ask, what is it that renders the sacraments so worthy of veneration? Christian tradition replies with one accord: it is their efficacy; the sacraments are truly the causes and the instruments of grace and charity; they are, as it were, vases filled with redeeming blood. But the Jansenists do not so regard them. According to them, the sacraments do not confer sanctity; they suppose it.[244] Before baptism, and before penance, the adult must have _dominant_ charity in his heart; without this, his repentance, and even his prayers, would be but movements of the dominant cupidity, and, consequently, new sins. It may be thought that I exaggerate; I subjoin, therefore, passages from the Synod of Pistoia, in which Quesnel and Jansenius speak again: "When we have unequivocal signs that the love of God reigns in a man's heart, we may with reason judge him worthy of participation with Jesus Christ in the reception of the sacraments. This is the rule which should be observed in the tribunal of penance (in the question of granting absolution). Works alone afford a morally certain proof of conversion. When the love of God takes possession of the soul, it becomes active and efficacious."[245] Again: "The first disposition for praying as we ought is a perfect detachment from all created things and a kind of disgust for all earthly consolations."[246] Until the sinner has received this grace of the Holy Ghost, he is unworthy of absolution quite as much as of communion. The words of Saint-Cyran to poor Sister Mary Clare are well known: "It is necessary to come, living, to penance. This is why I have kept you waiting so long. I have left you to live; for five months you have been living a spiritual life." So far no sacraments. The practice was still worse than the theory, as we well know. And this is the way in which Jansenism would recall Catholics to a respect for the sacraments! It has, at one blow, narrowed Christ's functions and those of the church.[247]

TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.

FOOTNOTES:

[203] De Potter, in his _Life of Scipio Ricci_, points out the identity of the Netherland schismatics with the Jansenists of Pistoia. The Marquis of Ricci's whole collection of documents was open to him; but he has not published those which we give further on.

[204] _Synode de Pistoie_, translated by Du Pac de Bellegarde, and approved by the Schismatics of Utrecht, p. 239 _et seq._ Pistoia, 1788.

[205] See, especially, chapters xii., xiii., xvii., xxi., xxii., xxiii.

[206] Edition Gerberon, pp. 489, 240, etc. In his first reply to Philip Marnix de Sainte-Aldegonde Baius thus expresses himself: "But because Holy Scripture, which can neither deceive nor be mistaken, contains within itself truth itself; and the church is not enlightened _except_ by the truth written in the sacred books, and, _left to herself_, could easily fall back into her darkness; _therefore_, it is more suitable to say that Holy Scripture gives authority and dignity to the church of Christ, than the reverse." We know that the project of Jansenius was first to publish only the _Vindiciæ Michælis Baii_. The _Augustinus_ took its source from this.

[207] Baius, _De Prima Hominis Justitia_, b. i. Jansenius, _De Gratia Primi Hominis_, c. 1; _De Statu Primæ Naturæ_, b. i. c. iii. _et seq._; b. ii. c. i. _et seq._

[208] _Loc. cit._, Quesnel _in II. Cor. 5_, etc.

[209] Jansenius, _De Statu Puræ Naturæ_, b. i. c. xx.

[210] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 242.

[211] _Bull of S. Pius V. against Baius_, prop. 21, 55, 78, 34, 26. _Bull of Clement XI. against Quesnel_, prop. 35. _Bull Auctorem Fidei against the False Synod of Pistoia_, Nos. 16, 17.

[212] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 243.

[213] _De Statu Pur. Nat._, b. i. Calvin, _Institut._, b. ii. c. i; Luther _in Psalm LI_.

[214] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 244.

[215] _De Ratione et Auctoritate_, c. iv., vii., _et seq._ Baius, _De Prima Hom. Just._, b. i. c. viii.; _De Charitate_, c. v.

[216] _Ibid._ For consistent Jansenists, science in the natural order, especially in what appertains to man, is impossible. When one has only an incomplete being to study, all of whose harmonies are in disorder, how can we have any certitude as to the nature of that being?

[217] Session III. _De Fide._

[218] Jansenius, _De Statu Naturæ Lapsæ_, b. ii. c. ii.-vii. Quesnel, _in Rom._ i. 19 and _II. Thessal._, iii. 18. _Prop. Condemned_, 40 _et seq._ _Prop. Condemned by Alexander VIII., 7th December, 1690._

[219] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 246.

[220] _Ibid._ p. 247.

[221] Jansenius, _De Statu Nat. Laps._, b. ii. c. vii. _et seq._; b. iii. c. ix. _et seq._; b. iv. c. xviii. Quesnel, _in Luc._, xvi. 3; _in Joann._, viii. 34, 36; _Prop. Condemned_, 38, 39, 41, 45, 46, 48, etc. Baius, _De Virtut. Impiorum_, c. vi. _Prop. Condemned_, 16, 25, 27, 30, 35, 36, 37, 40, 61 _et seq._

[222] _Synode de Pistoia_, p. 249 _et seq._ _Prop. Cond._, 18, 19, 21. Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvatoris_, b. i. Quesnel, _in Hebr._, viii. 7; _Galat._, v. 18; _Marc_, xii. 19, etc. _Prop. Cond._, 6, 7, 64, 65.

[223] _Synode de Pistoie_, _loc. cit._

[224] _Ibid._

[225] _Ibid._, p. 251, 259. _Prop. Cond._, 21, 25. Baius, _De Charitate_, c. v. _Prop. Cond._, 16, 38, etc. Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. v. Quesnel, _passim. Prop. Cond._, 40, 44, 45-67. _Protestation du P. Quesnel_ (1715, without any other date), p. 190, _et seq._

[226] Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. iii. c. xx., xxi. Quesnel, _Prop. Cond._, 32, 29. _Causa Quesnelliana_, p. 188 _et seq._

[227] Calvin, _De. Prædestinat._, b. iii. v.; _Instit._, b. ii. c. v. Jansenius, _ibid._, b. ix.

[228] Jansenius, _ibid._, b. iii. c. vii. _et seq._; _De Hæresi Pelag._, b. iv. c. xvi. _Baius, Prop. Cond._, 54.

[229] Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. iii. c. xiii.

[230] Baius, _De Libero Hominis Arbitrio_, c. ii. iv. _et seq._ _Prop. Cond._, 39. Jansenius, _De Statu Nat. Laps._, b. iv. c. xxi. _et seq._ _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. vi. c. v. _et seq._, xxiv. to the end. Quesnel _in Luc_, viii. 24, etc. _Prop. Cond._, 10, 22-25, 38, etc.

[231] Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. ii. and vi. Quesnel, _in Matth._, viii. 3, etc.; _Prop. Cond._, 9, 10, 11, 19, 20, etc. _Protestation du P. Quesnel_, p. 102 _et seq._

[232] Jansenius, _De Statu Nat. Laps._, b. iv. c. xxi. _et seq._, cited above.

[233] Third proposition. See _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. ii. and vi.

[234] Fourth proposition. See _De Hæresi Pelag._, b. vii., last chap.; b. viii. c. vi., viii. _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. ii. c. xv.

[235] See preceding notes and _Causa Quesnelliana_, p. 163-193.

[236] Edit cit., pp. 196 and 547; Appendix (v. ii.), p. 340 _et seq._

[237] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 242.

[238] _Ibid._, p. 252.

[239] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 252. _Prop. Cond._, 23, 24, 25. Baius, _De Charitate_, c. vi. _Prop. Cond._, 38, etc. Jansenius, _De Gratia Christi Salvat._, b. v. c. iii. _Protestation du P. Quesnel_, p. 190 _et seq._ _Prop. Cond._, 44, etc.

[240] Bull _Auctorem Fidei_, No. 24.

[241] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 521, 528. _Prop. Cond._, 61 _et seq._

[242] Rivière, _Le Nestorianisme Renaissant_, 2d part (1693). Van der Schuur (Utrecht, 1699), _De Kleyne Getyden_. _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 259 _et seq._ _Prop. Cond._, 69.; _Ibid._, appendix, p. 121 _et seq._ Baius, _Prop. Cond._, 73. We know that the Jansenist bishops of Holland loudly protested against the proclamation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception. See _Port Royal_, vol. i. p. 233.

[243] _Port Royal_, vol. i. p. 446; vol. ii. p. 189 _et seq._, 154, etc.

[244] Baius, _De Sacramentis in Genere_, c. iii. v. _Prop. Cond._, 33, 43, 70, 10, 12, 31 _et seq._, 57, etc. Saint-Cyran in _Aurelius_ follows the principles of Baius on this point.

[245] _Synode de Pistoie_, p. 257 _et seq._, 376-397. _Prop. Cond._, 25, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, etc.

[246] _Ibid._, p. 516. See Quesnel, _Prop. Cond._, 59 _et seq._

[247] On this point, to which I can only refer _en passant_, see Linsenmann, _Michael Baius und die Grundlegung des Jansenismus_, c. v. (Tubingen, 1867).

AN ENGLISH MAIDEN'S LOVE.[248]

The third Crusade had commenced. The cry, "God wills it," had gone forth from many a manly breast, and already Frederic of Germany, Henry II. of England, and Philip Augustus of France had received the cross from William, Archbishop of Tyre. But a more powerful monarch than Saladin, against whom their combined strength was to be directed, struck Frederic before he reached Palestine, and called Henry II., whom domestic difficulties had detained in England. Death gives not back that which he takes, and, for the want of a leader, the German army was broken up.

Richard, the brave Cœur de Lion, took his royal father's place, both on the throne and in the Crusade, and, with Philip of France, started on his glorious mission. Among those brave men who gathered around England's standard, joying to be led by so bold a king, who, with his lion's heart, dared every danger of sea, land, or fierce and cruel Moslem, was one of the oldest and proudest of Norman blood. His forefather, who had fought by the side of William the Conqueror, had distinguished himself by many a daring deed, and had won from his royal master, in recognition of his bravery, an earlship over a fair and smiling province of "merrie England"; then, renouncing his Norman title in behalf of a younger son, and marrying his eldest to the daughter of a Saxon knight, he established his right to the soil of his adopted country. Much of his fearless nature seemed to have come down with the blood of Robert de Bracy, who, at the ripe age of fifty-five, had found himself unable to resist his monarch's call, and to whom Cœur de Lion himself owed much of wise counsel. Robert de Bracy was a man of stern aspect, but withal so compassionate and forbearing, that he won the love of every one who came in contact with him. His bravery had already been proved when, as a young man, he fought beside Henry II, during the war against France; and, later, in that most dreadful invasion of Ireland--dreadful, because of the blow it gave to Irish independence, and for the gradual sinking of her people, from that time, from the eminence in erudition and lore for which they were renowned among the nations, and which, be it to their credit said, they are using every effort to regain. A man perfectly incapable of the least dishonorable action, he was revered as a knight "without stain or reproach." A fervent Catholic, his religion was his pride, and he never was ashamed of kneeling in church beside the poorest beggar, nor felt insulted because poverty's rags touched his velvet robes. But the good earl's heart received a terrible blow when he heard of the murder of Thomas à Becket. His faith in his king was shaken, and nothing but the stern duty of allegiance could have induced Robert de Bracy to remain in England. So when the Crusade was preached, he gladly seized the opportunity to show his love for the crucified King--for him whose throne was a cross, and whose crown was of thorns--and enrolled himself among the Crusaders. He was joined by his only son and Sir John de Vere, who, like himself, was of Norman blood--a brave, honest man, of strict integrity, whose character will be better seen in the unfolding of the story. The earl was deeply attached to the young knight, and the highest proof he could give of his love was in his willing consent that, on their return from Palestine, Sir John should wed his daughter, Agnes de Bracy, whose heart was no less pure than her face was lovely. "An' we'll make an earl of thee, my lad!" cried the impetuous King Richard when the betrothal was announced to him.

The court of the earl's castle was crowded with armed retainers, knights, and esquires, who formed the retinue of De Bracy and De Vere. Even on and beyond the lowered drawbridge might be seen bands of neighing steeds, their impatience checked ever and anon by their riders, who awaited the earl to head and lead them to the rendezvous of the Crusaders. Court and castle alike resounded with the clank of steel and tread of armed men, while buxom waiting-maids and merry lads hastened to and fro in the bustle attendant on such a departure. Here and there stood a page giving the finishing polish to his master's sword, and, again, others assisted in the girding on of the armor. Every now and then might be heard the wailing of some fond wife or mother, contrasting somewhat strangely with the jests of those who had no tie to make the parting a sacrifice in the good cause. Apart from all this, in one of the inner rooms of the castle, were gathered the earl and his family. Lady de Bracy's loving eyes wandered sadly from her honored husband to the manly features of her son, kneeling by her side, and back again to the earl, who was soothing the grief of his youngest child, Mary, just old enough to know that her father was going over land and sea, and that she might never see him again. In the deep embrasure of one of the windows, partly concealed by heavy curtains, stood Sir John and his betrothed. Agnes had been weeping, but being calmed by Sir John, whose grief partook more of the nature of joy than fear, since on his return he was to claim her as his bride, she rested her head quietly against his breast, both her hands clasped around his neck, while her uplifted eyes sought to read every expression of his noble face.

"Beloved," he said in a low tone, "it will not be for long, please God, though I would that thou wert my wife e'en ere I go. And," he added, continuing his whispered tones, "I were no Christian knight to doubt thy faithfulness. I'll prove thee mine on our return from the holy wars."

Agnes looked steadily at the face so lovingly bent over her, and, unclasping her hands, she drew from her girdle a scarf, such as was worn in those days, and bound it on Sir John's sword-belt. Then, returning her head to its resting-place, and feeling his arm drawing her tightly to him, as though by the very motion to thank her, she said:

"An' there is thy love's guerdon; thou shalt wear it in battle, and, when thine eyes fall on it, remember that _one_ is praying for thee in bonnie England."

Any further discourse was prevented by the earl, who cried:

"Sir John, we have no time to lose; the men are ready, the steeds drawn up, and our presence alone is needed for immediate departure. Come, Agnes, my daughter." And as he placed one arm around her, with the other he drew his wife gently to him. Raising his eyes to heaven, he exclaimed: "O God! protect these dear ones while I am fighting the good fight in thy name and for thee. And this child," he added, as, tenderly kissing his wife and Agnes, he loosened his hold and took Mary in his arms--"this child, Mother of God, belongs to thee; keep her pure, that thy name, borne by her, may be ever spotless!" Then, calling the knights, he hastily quitted the apartment, not daring to look back. The son tore himself from his mother's farewell embrace, and quickly followed; but Sir John still lingered. At last, summoning his courage, he strained Agnes to his breast:

"Farewell, my beloved! God have thee, my own, in his keeping for so long as it seems best to him that we be parted."

As the drawbridge was raised behind the retreating soldiers, Agnes stood at the loophole of the main turret, where, with her mother, she watched till the men, horses, and banners disappeared, shut from sight by the declivity of a distant hill, when she sank on her knees, and prayed fervently for the loved ones who had started on their perilous journey.

We have said that Agnes de Bracy was lovely; that word can hardly convey the true nature of her charms. Personal beauty she had, and much: dark eyes, a clear complexion, a perfect mouth, disclosing perfect teeth, and breaking into a smile of winning beauty, together with a graceful form; a character of womanly sweetness, and great strength of will. But as Spenser hath it:

"Of the soule the bodie forme doth take;
For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make."

It was the soul in Agnes de Bracy, rich in God's sweet grace, which gave her that wonderful expression; the pure heart, "without guile," which caused her eyes to gleam with a look that made Sir John once exclaim, "Methinks, Agnes, thine eyes would soften the stony heart of the Mussulman himself, and e'en make a Christian of him."