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LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Class 
 
STUDIES IN 
 RELIGIOUS HISTORY 
 
 jfirst Series. 
 
 LEADERS OF CHRISTIAN AND 
 ANTI-CHRISTIAN THOUGHT. 
 
 BY 
 
 ERNEST RENAN. 
 
 MATHTESON & COMPANY. 
 
r 
 
 C N T E N TS. 
 
 page; 
 
 CHANNING AND THE UNITAETAN MOVEMENT 
 
 IN THE UNITED STATES, a.d. 1780-1842, . 1 
 
 FEUERBACH AND THE NEO-HEGELIAN SCHOOL 
 
 OF PHILOSOPHY, a.d. 1775-1833, . . 36 
 
 SPINOZA, A.D. 1632-1677, . . . .47 
 
 THE TRIAL OF GALILEO, a.d. 1564-1642, . . 72 
 
 JOHN CALVIN, a 
 
 D.' '1509-1564,* *' • '"/ . • 79 
 
 THOMAS A-KEMPIS; AlSf D *f ETE * ATTf HORSHIP 
 OF THE IMITATION OF JESUS CHRIST, 
 A.D. 1379-1471, ..... 93 
 
 FRANCIS D'ASSISI AND THE FRANCISCANS, 
 
 A.D. 1182, ...... 108 
 
 JOACHIM DI FLOR, JOHN OF PARMA, AND 
 THE ETERNAL GOSPEL, a.d. 12th and 13th 
 Centuries, . . . . . .129 
 
 MARCUS-AURELIUS, a.d. 121-180, . . .206 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 The present volume is the first of a series it 
 is intended to publisli of the fugitive pieces 
 that have been contributed, from time to time, 
 by Ernest Renan to the columns of the Revue 
 des deux Mondes, the Dehats, and other 
 French periodicals, bearing on the subject of 
 religion and its history. The series shall 
 bear the o'enercil title of " Studies in Re- 
 ligious History," and the present volume the 
 specific title, " Leaders of Christian and Anti- 
 Christian Thought." In the seven volumes 
 of Ernest Renan, already published by the 
 Temple Company, under the general title of 
 "Origins of Christianity," viz. — (l) The Life 
 of Jesus ; (2) The Apostles ; (3) St Paul ; (4) 
 
 225724 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 The Anti-Christ; (5) The Gospels; (6) The 
 Christian Church ; (7) Marcus Aurelius, or 
 the End of the Okl World— the English 
 reader has ]3laced before him, for the first 
 time, a complete view of the history of 
 Christianity, from its earliest inception, down 
 to the first half of the third century of our 
 era. The object of the present volume is 
 to set before the reader, in a series of sketches, 
 some of the more important phases religious 
 thoug;ht has assumed in the centuries which 
 lie between the middle of the nineteenth and 
 the middle of the third respectively. To this 
 arrangement it may be objected that it is a re- 
 versal of the chronological order ; which latter, 
 no doubt, has its advantages, especially in a 
 historical survey ; chronology being generally re- 
 garded, and most properly too, as standing in 
 the same relation to history as the chart does to 
 the mariner ; still, as this volume does not 
 pretend to give a connected historical account, 
 but merely a series of historical (or, more 
 strictly, biographical) sketches, it has been 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 deemed advisable to begin with the phases of 
 religious thought the best known, and pro- 
 ceed by easy stages to the more remote and 
 presumbly least known. But the reader is 
 at liberty to follow the chronological order, if 
 he prefers it to the one here adopted, without 
 being pat to any very great incoQvenience. 
 A. chronolo2:ical table has been added to the 
 table of contents, and he has only to refer 
 to this to enable him to bei^in at anv date 
 his fancy or his convenience may dictate. 
 
 Secondary to the object just indicated, the 
 Translator was desirous of investing the present 
 volume with that peculiar interest which 
 attaches to the form of literature known as 
 biography. The following studies, therefore, 
 in addition to their historical value, are strictly 
 biographical. They give us a picture of the 
 lives of men who have left their imprint on the 
 age in which they lived, and especially on 
 its religious thought. By studying the lives 
 of these great men, as presented to us by M. 
 Renan, the reader will be a])]e to explain, to 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 himself at least, why it is that, in the present 
 
 day, religion assumes so many faces, even 
 
 amongst its most earnest and uncompromising 
 
 votaries. 
 
 WM. M. THOMSON. 
 
LEADERS OF CHRISTIAN AND 
 ANTI-CHRISTIAN THOUGHT. 
 
 CHANNING AND THE UNITAEIAN MOVE^ 
 MENT IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Protestantism is destined to share the law common 
 to things hnman ; I mean, of hviug and developing 
 without ever attaining a fixed point and a permanent 
 state. This is its privilege, or, if it is preferred, its 
 curse. If it can be believed that there is here below 
 a complete system of revealed truth, given once for 
 all, it is clear that Bossuet was right in his pompous 
 History of the Variations^ where he represents this 
 perpetual mobility as the assured sign of error. 
 Although, if we assume on the other hand, that no 
 religious or philosophical system can pretend to an 
 exclusive and absolute value, it is evident that we 
 must commend him who possesses in himself such 
 store of flexibility that it can accommodate itself to the 
 progress of humanity, undergo modifications with it, 
 and to pursue it to ever new consequences and to 
 an unknown goal. This tendency of Protestantism 
 towards a more and more purified religious ideal, 
 shows itself here under two quite distinct aspects, 
 according to the divers genius of the two great 
 divisions of the Reformation. Germany, on its side, 
 
 A 
 
CHANNING. 
 
 applying to theology its profoundness of mind, its 
 lofty imagination, its raarvellons aptitude for critical 
 research, had, at the end of the last century and at 
 the commencement of the present one, arrived at one 
 of the grandest and most poetical religious forms 
 that it is given to one to conceive. That was but 
 for a moment ; but what a moment in the history of 
 the human mind, a moment when Kant, Fichte, and 
 Herder were Christians, when Klopstock sketched the 
 ideal of the modern Christ, in which was raised that 
 marvellous edifice of biblical exegesis, a masterpiece 
 of penetrating criticism and of exalted rationalism ! 
 Never were there so many and such great things 
 evolved in the name of Christianity ; but vagueness 
 and indetermination, the essential condition of poetry 
 in religion, condemned this fair apparition to endure 
 but for a day, and to leave no deposit for the future. 
 The schism of the diverse elements which were for 
 a moment conciliated in its bosom was not long in 
 manifesting itself. Pure religious sentiment resulted 
 in a narrow pietism, rationalism and criticism, in 
 negative and destructive formulas, somewhat analo- 
 gous to those of our eighteenth century. Catholicism, 
 ever on the watch to profit by every defection, in- 
 vaded the territory at every point. 
 
 The English race, from its side, in Europe and 
 America, devoted itself to the solution of the great 
 problem presented by the Reformation, and in its 
 own manner pursued the formula of a Christianity 
 which might be acceptable to the modern spirit. 
 But she carried into that work neither the force of 
 intellectual faculties, nor elevated poetry, nor the 
 liberty of criticism, nor the searching and vast science 
 which Germany alone in our day has been able to 
 apply to religious questions. Great integrity of 
 mind, admirable singleness of heart, an excellent moral 
 sentiment, were the gifts with which that serious 
 and strong race sought Christ. Unitarianism, a sort of 
 
CHANNING. 3 
 
 compromise, somewhat analogous to that which the 
 deacon Arins attempted in the fonrtli centniy, was 
 the highest outcome of its theology ; a few excellent 
 practical maxims, a truly evangelical spirit, in the 
 highest sense that it is customary to apply this 
 word, compensated for what was lacking in its work, 
 of poetry and profoundness. We may say without 
 hesitation that from this direction have emanated 
 the most excellent lessons in morals and in social 
 philosophy that have until now been heard of in the 
 world. Administered by good solid natures, strangers 
 on the one hand to artistic refinements and caprices, 
 on the other to the exigencies and the scruples of 
 the savant, the honest and sagacious school of which 
 we speak has proved at once hoAV greatly diverse 
 are the gifts of mind, and how widely separated are 
 the views of genius from the practical wisdom 
 which labours efficaciously for the amelioration of 
 the human species. 
 
 Channing, whose name, quite new among us, 
 already combines so much sympathy and precocious 
 admiration, has been unquestionably the most com- 
 plete representative of that exclusively American ex- 
 periment — of religion without mystery, of rationalism 
 Avithout criticism, of intellectual culture without 
 elevated poetry, — wdiich seems to be the ideal to 
 which the religion of the United States aspires. If 
 he was not the founder, Channing is indeed the 
 Saint of the Unitarians. The reports which reach us 
 from America show us that the opinion of his 
 sanctity increases from day to day, almost border- 
 ing on legend. A sudden fascination has attracted 
 to his writings a certain number of the elite of souls 
 in France and England. We can hence only 
 applaud the idea which has drawn a publicist and 
 one of the most distinguished savants, M. Laboulaye, 
 to lend his name to the introduction amongst us of 
 these excellent writings. The remarkable essays of 
 
4 CHANNING. 
 
 M. Laboulaye, published in the Journal des Debats, 
 have alrejidy, in France, called attention to the name 
 of Channing, and inspired in enlightened minds the 
 desire to know more intimately the master whose 
 renown has spread over the whole of America. The 
 volume^ of the translations which we announce 
 responds to tliat desire : it contains the most 
 excellent portion of the works of Channing, his 
 writings on society. At the beginning of a religious 
 phenomenon really peculiar to our times, and which 
 seems assured of a great future, it is well to study 
 with the sympathy that good and fine things de- 
 serve, but without decided predilection, the person- 
 ality of this illustrious reformer, and to ask what 
 part his ideas may be called upon to play among us. 
 
 1. 
 
 William Ellery Channing^ was born at Newport, in 
 the state of Rhode Island, the 7th April 1780, of a 
 respectable family in easy circumstances. It cannot 
 be said that his education was in any way remark- 
 able, nor that the circle in which he was brought up 
 was particularly well suited to develop a mind with 
 a great speculative bent. Newport was a commercial 
 city, and a place of favourite resort, and the very 
 details into which his biographer ingenuously enters 
 in order to describe the society that was found there 
 give us a poor enough idea of it. " Rich merchants," 
 says he, "marine captains retired from the service, 
 and others, attracted thence by considerations of 
 
 1 (Euvres Sociales de W. E. Channing, translated from tbe 
 English, preceded by an essay on the Life and Doctrines of 
 Channing, and by an Introduction by M. E. Laboulaye, Member 
 of the Institute. 
 
 2 The biographical details which follow are taken from the 
 Memoirs of Channing (New Yoi'k), a collection full of interest, 
 and which enables us to penetrate to the very bottom of the 
 soul of Channing. 
 
CHANNING. 5 
 
 health, formed a gay and even a refined society. 
 The presence of English and French officers during 
 the War of Independence gave a finishing touch 
 to manners; we must add, too, that through the 
 influence of French liberalism, and the licence of 
 speech so commonly indulged by seafaring people, 
 impiety was widely difiiised throughout almost all 
 classes." We can, with difficulty, comprehend how, 
 in the midst of merchants and retired officers, far 
 from the great centres of instruction, one of those 
 powerful and lofty individualities could be formed, 
 to which we give the name of genius. In fact, we 
 perceive from the first where Channing, later on, 
 would show his deficiency : I mean, in that mental 
 refinement which comes from contact with an aris- 
 tocracy of intellect, and which intercourse with the 
 people is better calculated perhaps to develop than 
 the society of the middle class. 
 
 To a man especially devoted to intellectual em- 
 ployments, this Avould indeed be an irreparable 
 lacune; but to a man like Channing, destined to a 
 wholly practical mission, it was perhaps an advan- 
 tage. It must be acknowledged that the qualities of 
 subtlety and flexibility which are acquired by a varied 
 culture of the intellectual powers would only impede 
 the sweeping movement of an apostle. By dint of 
 seeing the difierent sides of things, we become unde- 
 cided. The good no longer fires with enthusiasm, for 
 we see it compensated by an almost equivalent dose 
 of evil. Evil always disgusts, but no longer irritates 
 as it should : for we get accustomed to regard it as 
 a necessity, and sometimes even as the condition of 
 the good. The apostle ought not to be cognisant of 
 all these shades of thought. The virtuous Channing 
 owed perhaps to his sober and somewhat indilferent 
 education the advantage of preserving all his life the 
 energies of all his moral tendencies, and the absolute 
 bent of his convictions. He possessed that happy 
 
6 CHANNING. 
 
 privilege of virtuous minds — of walking on the verge 
 of the abyss without experiencing giddiness, and of 
 viewing the world at so small an angle that one can 
 never be terrified at its immensity. In speculation 
 he never advanced upon the Scotch school, the wise 
 moderation of which he carried into his theology. 
 He knew but little of Germany, and that he only 
 half understood. His literary ideas and his scientific 
 knowledge were those of an instructed and culti- 
 vated man, but he was destitute of any special gift 
 of penetration or originality. 
 
 On the other hand, upon all questions of a social, 
 moral or political order he began to meditate very 
 early, and that, too, with much force. The idea of 
 communism, the first, and by consequence the falsest, 
 that presents itself to the thoughts when one com- 
 mences to reflect upon the reform of human society, 
 crossed for a moment his mind ; nay, he was even 
 tempted to join himself as minister to a company of 
 emigrants Avhose principle was community of goods. 
 His childhood and youth were harassed by great 
 perturbations, which contrasts very strangely with 
 the profound calmness of the rest of his life. Forty 
 years after this period of trial, it recurred gently to 
 his thoughts, and he spoke of it in these terms : " I 
 lived alone, devoting myself to the forming of plans 
 and projects, nobody being under the same roof with 
 me except at the hours when I gave lessons : then 1 
 worked as I have never done since. There being no 
 human being to whom I could communicate my 
 thoughts, and eschewing ordinary society, I passed 
 through intellectual and moral combats, by reason 
 of troubles of both mind and heart, which were so 
 vivid and absorbing that they deprived me of sleep, 
 and sensibly affected my constitution. I was re- 
 duced almost to a skeleton, nevertheless, it is 
 with pleasure that I recall those days of isolation 
 and of sadness. If ever 1 aspired with my whole 
 
CHANNING. 7 
 
 soul towards purity and truth, it was indeed tlien. 
 In the midst of rude combats, this great question 
 rose within me : ' Shall 1 obey the highest or the 
 meanest principles of my nature? Shall I be the 
 victim of worldly passions, or the child and the 
 servant of God?' I remember that this great con- 
 flict went on in me, and none of those who were 
 about me so much as suspected what I passed 
 through." 
 
 His reflections on religion led him very early into 
 a profound dissent from the EstabHshed Church, and 
 a strong antipathy to the absolute and terrible doc- 
 trines of Calvinism. His indignation against this 
 " vulgar and frightful theology," as he calls it, 
 breaks out in every page of his writings. His 
 whole theology is henceforward summed up in 
 these words, " God is good." The austere views 
 of religion A\5hicli people regard as favourable to 
 piety, seemed to hrni a cruel severity which dif- 
 fuses a melancholy, casts obscurity over God, 
 over the present life, over the life to come, and 
 by its sadness leads fatally to the superstitions of 
 Paganism. " Enghsh theology," he wrote about 1801, 
 "seems to me altogether of very little value. To me 
 an Established Church seems to be the grave of in- 
 telligence. To impose a fixed and unvariable creed 
 is to build prison walls round the soul. . . . The 
 timidity, the coldness, the dulness which generally 
 marks all books of theology, is principally to be at- 
 tributed to the cause we speak of." And some years 
 after, he writes : "I know that Calvinism is embraced 
 by many excellent men : but I know, too, that on 
 some hearts it has the saddest effects, that it spreads 
 impenetrable darkness over them, that it begets a 
 spirit of servility and fear, that it chills the best affec- 
 tions, that it checks the most virtuous efforts, that it 
 overthrows sometimes the seat of reason. The inllu- 
 ence of this system on sensitive minds is always to 
 
8 CHANNING. 
 
 be dreaded. If people could believe it, they would 
 find in it grounds of discouragement that would run 
 even to madness. If I and all my dear friends, and 
 all my race have come from the hands of God totally 
 depraved, irresistibly drawn towards evil and de- 
 testing good ; if but a portion of the human race 
 can be saved from this miserable condition, and the 
 remainder must be condemned to endless and eternal 
 flames by the Being who gave us a perverse and 
 depraved nature, then, in my judgment, there re- 
 mains nothing but to lament in anguish of heart ; 
 existence is a curse, and the Creator is — I dare not 
 say what. merciful Father, I cannot speak of 
 Thee in the terms which this system suggests ! No, 
 Thou hast given me too many proofs of Thy kind- 
 ness to allow such a reproach to pass my lips. Thou 
 hast created me to be happy ; Thou hast called me to 
 virtue and to piety, because in virtue and in piety 
 happiness consists, and Thou dost not expect from 
 me what Thou hast not made me capable of accom- 
 plishing." 
 
 The religious condition into which Channiug thus 
 found himself drawn was a doctrine very simihar to 
 that of the Arians and Pelagians. He did not regard 
 man as wholly corrupted by sin : he did not see in 
 the Christ the incarnate God, descended to the earth 
 to bear the burden of our transgressions, and to 
 purchase our justification by his own sufi*erings ; but 
 neither did he regard man as being in a normal con- 
 dition, and as advancing naturally towards goodness. 
 In Jesus Christ he did not see merely a person of 
 superior religious genius, who by means of a delicate 
 temperament and under the stimulus of his national 
 enthusiasm had attained to the most perfect union 
 with God. He rather fell in with those who con- 
 sider the human race to be actually degenerated by 
 an abuse of free will. In Jesus Christ he recognised 
 a sublime being, who had wrought a crisis in the 
 
CHANNING. 9 
 
 condition of humanity, had renewed the moral sense, 
 and touched with saving power the fountains of 
 good that w^ere hidden in the depths of the heart 
 of man. 
 
 These doctrines are very similar to those ()f 
 Unitarianism, which, at the time we speak of, had 
 in America quite a number of churches. Ohanniug 
 joined the Unitarians, and, at the age of twenty- 
 three, accepted the position of pastor, which he ex- 
 ercised for the rest of his life in the Federal Street 
 Church, Boston ; but he never carried into his 
 pastorate a sectarian or party spirit. His aversion 
 to all official establishment convinced him that even 
 the broadest of sects was much too narrow. There 
 is hardly one of his sermons in which he does not 
 recur to that fundamental thought : " I beg of you 
 to remember," he said, " that in this discourse I speak 
 for myself alone. I do not give you the opinions 
 of any sect ; I give you my own. I alone am re- 
 sponsible for what I say ; let no one listen to me in 
 order to find out what others think. 1 belong, it is 
 true, to that society of Christians who believe that 
 there is but one God, the Father, and that Jesus 
 Christ is not that unique God ; still, my adhesion io 
 that sect is very far from being entire, and I do not 
 seek to attract to it new proselytes. What other 
 men believe is of little importance to me. I can 
 listen to their arguments with pleasure, but I am at 
 liberty to accept or reject their conclusions. True it 
 iy, I cheerfully take the name of Unitarian, because 
 people have attempted to decry it, and because 1 have 
 not so learned the rehgion of Christ as to recoil before 
 the reproaches of men. If that name was more hon- 
 oured than it is, I should probably take pleasure in 
 rejecting it, for I fear the chains that party imposes. 
 I wish not to belong to a sect, but to a community 
 of free minds which loves the truth, and will follow 
 Christ on this earth antl u^) to heaven. \ desire to 
 
10 CHANNING. 
 
 escape from the narrow bounds of any particular 
 Church, in order to live under the open heaven, in 
 the full light of day, regarding from a distance every- 
 thing around me, seeing with my own eyes, listening 
 with my own ears, and pursuing the truth resolutely, 
 however arduous or solitary the path it leads to. I 
 am not, then, the mouthpiece of a sect ; I speak for 
 myself alone, and I thank God that I live in times 
 and in circumstances which makes it a duty for me 
 to open my whole soul frankly and unreservedly." 
 
 The real originahty of Channiug rests in this idea 
 of a pure Cimstianity, freed from all bonds of sect, in 
 his aversion to all spiritual despotism, though freely 
 accepted, in his hatred to that which he calls a de- 
 grading uniformity of opinions. No one has ever found 
 stronger words in which to condemn official faith and 
 discipline ; no one has better understood that a truth 
 which does not proceed from a man's own heart, and 
 which is applied as a kind of exterior form, is in- 
 efficacious and without moral value. The verb to 
 believe is repugnant to Channing. He sees in the 
 obedience exacted by faith a remnant of the old 
 system, which rested upon fear, and upon the sup- 
 pression of individual consciences by the constituted 
 authority. He thinks that it is more preferable to 
 raise up a few evil passions than to perpetuate slavery 
 and lethargy. Unity, such as it has been understood 
 by the Church from the beginning, appeared to him 
 henceforth impossible to pursue. Unity in variety is 
 with him the law of the Church of the future, and he 
 cherishes no fond dream that Catholicism, imposed by 
 a clergy distinct from the faithful, and retaining for 
 itself the monopoly in matters of religion, shall be 
 displaced in the future by a universal communion of 
 Christians animated by pure love. 
 
 This liberal and exalted tolerance is the one thing 
 which most delights Channing, and which draws 
 from liim the noblest utterances, which we cannot 
 
CHANNING. 11 
 
 do better tliau to quote. " Your chief duty in lieu 
 of belief," he says, " may be summed up iu two pre- 
 cepts: Respect those loho differ from you; respect your- 
 selves. Honour men of different sects. Do not 
 imagine that you have the exckisive privilege of 
 truth and goodness. Never consider the Church of 
 Christ to be confined within the hmits of human 
 invention, but as comprehendiug all sects. Honour 
 all men. At the same time respect yourselvei^. 
 Never suffer your opinions to be treated with con- 
 tempt, but, as you would not impose them upon any 
 one, let it be seen that you revere them as the trvith, 
 and that you expect the respect and the courtesy of 
 those who converse with you on that point. Place 
 yoiu'selves always on terms of perfect equality with 
 eyQYj sect, and do not embolden any one by your 
 timidity, to take up towards you a tone of dictation, 
 superiority, or contempt." 
 
 One singular consequence" of this wide indefinite- 
 ness, of this exclusion of all exclusiveness, was to 
 render him especially tolerant of the most intolerant 
 of all religious societies. He saw around him 
 Catholicism calumniated, semi -persecuted, and he 
 loved it. The lively sympathy which he conceived 
 for the writings of Fenelon, the influence of the 
 pleasant recollections which Cheverus had left behind 
 him in the United States, and, above all, the advant- 
 age which, in his eyes, Catholicism had in not being 
 otHcial in the country in which he lived, determined 
 his ideas in that sense. He feared the future of the 
 Catholic propaganda in England, iu particular the 
 Oxford movement, because he saw in it a reaction of 
 the individual conscience against the Established 
 Church. He was indignant against theologians who 
 were alarmed at the progress of Catholicism, and 
 who fancied themselves as infallible as the Pope. 
 "Do they not perceive," said he, "that if men must 
 choose between two infallibilities, they will choose 
 
12 CHANNINQ. 
 
 the Pope as the most aucient, and the one which is 
 upheld by the greatest number of voices'? This 
 system cannot have endured for so long a time, nor 
 have extended to such a degree, without having 
 some deep root in our nature. The ideas and the 
 words of Church and antiquity have a powerful charm. 
 Men, in their weakness, ignorance and indifference, 
 enjoy the shelter which they find in a vast organisa- 
 tion which time has consecrated. Let us be strong 
 and proud when we are supported by the multitude, 
 by a great name, and by the authority of ages. It 
 is not surprising that the Church of Rome revived at 
 that moment, when an unhealthy fear of innovations 
 reacted against the spirit of reform, constraining men 
 to look at the past. This Oxford movement has 
 many opportimities of being extended, because it 
 seems to be less the Avork of a police, or of the 
 ambition of the clergy, than of a real fanaticism." 
 
 Such was Channing for forty years in his Federal 
 Street pulpit. Possessed by an exclusive idea of the 
 good, he saw little beyond that supreme aim. He 
 visited Europe, which he did not understand, nor 
 sought to understand. His exterior life was simple 
 and gentle. In France, where every exceptional 
 vocation which is consecrated to things divine is 
 placed outside the pale of common rights, and implies 
 celibacy, it would be a strange spectacle to see one 
 who is an apostle, a saint, living the life of an ordinary 
 jDerson : the empire of vulgarity is so strong amongst 
 us that no young woman would consent to espouse a 
 Channing. No untoward incident crossed that calm 
 and serene existence. The imperturbable optimism, 
 which constituted the whole of his religion, never 
 deserted him for a moment. " The earth," said he, 
 "becomes younger with years, man better with age." 
 During the last summer that he passed on earth, it 
 was asked in his presence at what age we should 
 place the happiest period of life. He smiled, and 
 
CHANNlNCx. 13 
 
 answered that it was about sixty ! He had already 
 reached that age. He died soon after, in October 
 1842, without pain or regret, just as the sun was 
 setting — the hoiu- that he had always loved, and 
 which he deemed as sacred. He even avowed that 
 as he had advanced in life he had been more and 
 more happy. "Life," he wrote, " seems to me a gift 
 which acquires every day a greater value. 1 have 
 not found it to be a frothy and glittering bubble on 
 the surface; it only becomes insipid in proportion as 
 we measure it. In truth I detest that superannuated 
 comparison. Life is a blessing to us. If I could see 
 others as happy as I am myself, what a world ours 
 would be ! This world is good, in spite of the 
 obscurity which surrounds it. The longer I live, the 
 more I see the light pierce through the clouds. I 
 am certain the sun is above us." 
 
 IL 
 
 It was by accident that Channing became a writer. 
 His works bear no trace of literary ambition. There 
 is not one of them that exhibits the least pretension 
 to art or style. Channing is an evangelical minister, 
 and a preacher. His works are simply sermons, 
 spiritual letters, or articles which appeared in a reli- 
 gious journal — The CJinstian Examiner. The idea of 
 waiting a book did not come to him until very late, 
 and happily he did not carry it out. The plan of such 
 a work would have neither been new nor original. 
 Like so many others, it would have been an essay upon 
 man and human nature, the invariable theme of the 
 Anglo-Scotch philosophy. I am indeed inclined to 
 believe that the essay of Channing would have been 
 no exception to the weariness of those sort of books 
 — excellent though they be for certain degrees of 
 intellectual culture, but which teach nothing, and are 
 
14 CHANNING. 
 
 of very little value, since history and general studies 
 on the development of the human species have almost 
 caused to be forgotten that miserable philosophy. 
 
 If Channing is not an author, neither is he, any 
 more, a scholar or philosopher. He lacks informa- 
 tion, and his historical knowledge is all at second or 
 third hand. He does not possess that delicate feeling 
 for shades of thought which we call criticism, lacking 
 which there is no insight into the past, nor, conse- 
 quently, any extended knowledge of human affairs. 
 It is astonishing to witness to what extent the 
 English in general are destitute of that intuitive his- 
 torical gift so richly bestowed on the Germans, so 
 largely possessed by some minds in France, provided 
 the matter in hand is not a too remote antiquity, nor 
 an intellectual state differing largely from our own. 
 At the present moment, even, antiquity is still taught 
 at Oxford as it was taught with us at the time of 
 Rollin, and perhaps less well. In certain departments 
 of political history this moderate penetration may 
 produce works that are respectable and true enough; 
 but in the history of literature, religion, or philosophy, 
 which is destined to become more and more the great 
 history, and to throw into the shade that which was 
 formerly called by that name, it requires a quite dif- 
 ferent power of divination, and such is its importance 
 that researches of this kind have attained in our day, 
 that we can no longer be either thinker or philosopher 
 without possessing this quality. Happily, one can 
 very Avell be an honest man without it. And this is 
 what Channing was by pre-eminence, and to a degree 
 almost amounting to genius, which is of a thousand 
 times more value than mere talent. As with all men 
 born for the practice of virtue rather than for specu- 
 lation, he has few ideas, and these few are simple. 
 He believes in revelation, in the supernatural, in 
 miracles, in the prophets, and in the Bible. He seeks 
 to prove the divinity of Christianity by arguments 
 
CIIANNING. 15 
 
 which differ in nothing from those of the okl school. 
 This pnritan, who " higgles " so ardently in regard 
 to his faith, is at bottom very credulous in all that 
 belongs to history: the fault of his not being broken 
 in to the intellectual gymnastics which results from 
 long practice on the problems of the human mind. 
 
 At the same time that he lacks critical acumen, 
 Channing lacks also the sentiment of great originality. 
 When wo compare this excellent soul, this contempo- 
 raneous American saint, with those who like him in 
 the past have been possessed with a zeal for the 
 glory of God, or the welfare of their brother man, 
 the first feeling is one of sadness and of chill. In- 
 stead of the splendid theology of the antique ages, 
 instead of the great intoxication of a Francis 
 d'Assisi, who speaks so powerfully to the imagina- 
 tion, we find ourselves here in presence of a respect- 
 able gentleman, very sedate, very well dressed ; 
 enthusiastic and inspired after his fashion, but with- 
 out the brilliancy of tlie marvellous ; devout, but 
 without grandeur; noble and pure, but without 
 poetry, unless it be poetry of a wholly domestic 
 and private kind. Put far from us those paradoxes 
 of incomplete minds which, because they liave com- 
 prehended the beauties of the past, would like to 
 reconstruct a vanished world with archaeological re- 
 grets, as though the first condition of serious admira- 
 tion were not to recognise each thing in its natural 
 position, that is to say, in its epoch. The dazzling 
 fcintasies of ancient religions would only be chim- 
 erical in oiu' days. We cannot produce a dream by 
 an act of volition, and we cannot, without injustice, 
 blame modern men for not having the qualities to 
 Avhicli the man of credulous eras was indebted for 
 his ignorance and simplicity. It would not be less 
 unjust to reproach Channing with the tameness of 
 his theology, inasmuch as this very tameness is, in 
 questions of abstract speculation, a ci)nditi()n of 
 
16 CHANNING. 
 
 reasonableness. His theology is at bottom all that 
 theology can be in the nineteenth century, and in 
 America — level, simple, respectable, practicable; a 
 theology on Franklin's pattern, with no great reach 
 of metaphysics, nor transcendental vices. Those 
 who appreciate a religion for its simplicity and its 
 degree of transparency ought to be enchanted with 
 this. It is certain that if the modern spirit is right 
 in wishing for a religion which, without excluding 
 the supernatural, diminishes it to the smallest amount 
 possible, the religion of Channing is the most perfect 
 and purest that has ever appeared. 
 
 But, in truth, is this all? And though the symbol 
 should be reduced to a belief in God and in Christ, 
 what would we gain? Would scepticism rest satis- 
 fied? Would the formula of the universe be more 
 complete and lucid? The destiny of man and of 
 humanity less impenetrable? Does Channing with 
 his purified symbol escape better the objections of 
 incredulity than the Catholic theologians? Alas, no I 
 He admits the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and does 
 not admit his divinity ; he admits the Bible, and does 
 not admit hell. He displays all the captiousness of 
 a scholastic, Avhen endeavouring to establish against 
 the Trinitarians the sense in which Christ is the Son 
 of God, and the sense in which he is not. Now, if we 
 concede that he had a real and miraculous existence, 
 from first to last, why not frankly call him divine ? 
 The one does not exact a larger amount of belief 
 than the other. In truth, in this view it is only the 
 first step which costs : we must not merchandise 
 with the supernatural ; faith is all of a piece ; and, 
 the sacrifice once made, it is not becoming to take 
 back in detail the rights which, once for all, have 
 been fully conceded. 
 
 This, in my opinion, would be the narrow and 
 contradictory side of Channing. What sort of a 
 rationalist is he who admits miracles, prophecies, a 
 
CITANNING. 17 
 
 revelation? Of Avbat use is it to tell me that this 
 revelation ought to be judged by reason, and that 
 in case of conflict reason must be preferred? Every 
 stopping-place in rationalism is arbitrary. The fact 
 of this revelatioDj Avhich at the start we are to as- 
 sume as demonstrated, is, moreover, the essential 
 point which it is necessary to establish ; and, in view 
 of the demands of modern criticism, this cannot be 
 said to be a thing easy of accomplishment. We 
 then find ourselves brought back to diversity of 
 opinion, the remedy for which is sought in a theory 
 of revelation. Now, if it can be supposed that there 
 is an absolute formula of truth, how can we hope to 
 arrive at it by individual efforts? How can con- 
 fidence in one's own judgment be pressed to the 
 extent of ascribing to ourselves infallibility, and be- 
 lieving that we shall find the fixed point, which no 
 one has yet reached ? 
 
 I am aware that I am here addressing to Chan- 
 ning the objection which the Catholic theologians 
 address to Protestantism in general. It is, in fact, 
 only the argument of the Catholic controversialist ; 
 a very feeble argument, or ratlier no argument 
 at all, when it is addressed to that Protestantism 
 which is nothing but Spirituahsm attaching itself to 
 the great tradition of Christ, and has always appeared 
 to me unanswerable as against that section of the 
 reformed church which aspires to possess the appa- 
 rent vigom- of Catholicism without its chains. When 
 Protestantism fails to reach out to a religion purely 
 rational, it seems to me illogical. That this incon- 
 sequence is excusable and often hon; nrable, I would 
 be the first to admit ; but it must be ;i vowed that, it 
 Protestantism aspires only to displace ooe set of 
 dogmatic beliefs by another, it has no longer any 
 raison d'etre : Catholicism, in that event, is much to 
 be preferred to it. Channing never attained to a 
 perfectly clear statement of his own thonghis on this 
 
18 CHANNING. 
 
 point, Tf, on the one hand, he preaches the most enth*e 
 liberty of creed, on the other, he stops far short in 
 this of pure criticism. When he rouses himself ener- 
 getically against the established church, he by no 
 means renounces the hope of finding the true form 
 of evangelical doctrine. If he bids one search for 
 oneself, he never once imagines that one can be 
 carried by independent research outside the pale of 
 Christianity. And yet, if we admit the fact of a 
 revelation made at a particular moment in history, 
 if we grant truths divinely manifested, and, conse- 
 quently, binding on the conscience of him who regards 
 them as revealed, wherein consists the difficulty of 
 recognising an outward establishment, a Church 
 teaching by supernatural illumination? A miracle 
 wrought eighteen hundred years ago is no harder to 
 admit than a miracle which is perpetrated in our 
 own generation, Catholicism can justly say to 
 Channing, " You are no more liberal than I am, and 
 you submit to an authority much less obvious ; you 
 submit to the Bible, as for me, I obey the Church." 
 For my part, I own I would rather accept the autho- 
 rity of the Church than the authority of the Bible. 
 The Church is more human, more living : immovable 
 though it is supposed to be, it yields more readily to 
 the needs of each epoch. If I may be permitted to say 
 so, it is more easily brought to listen to reason than a 
 book which has been closed for eighteen centuries. 
 
 Channing never saw very clearly that the remote, 
 if you please, though inevitable consequence of 
 admitting a revelation, is the admission of an 
 authority to interpret it. In other words, the ad- 
 mission of Catholicism, the political institution of 
 religion, born of Rome, as understood by the nations, 
 is very properly repugnant to him ; but, from the 
 fact that such a system leads fatally to sloth and 
 indifference, have we any right to conclude that the 
 less difficult religion of the southern nations (and 
 
CHANNING. 19 
 
 France is becoming a southern nation more and 
 more) has not also its ideal ? Because these people, 
 instead of apprehending religion as an endless 
 pursuit, go to it merely for repose — because, averse 
 from trouble, they relish at their leisure a religion 
 that is offered to them ready made, is that a reason 
 for excluding them from the Kingdom of God ? 
 Who knows that they are not wiser, after all, than 
 they who seek after theological truth ? If they 
 do not debate the problem, is it not because they 
 have a vague and instinctive feeling that it 
 is insoluble 1 The Catholic, taking the dogma, 
 as time has fashioned it, and without searching into 
 its depths, is, in one sense, nearer a high philosophy 
 than the Protestant, who is incessantly in quest 
 of a pretended primitive formula of Christianity. 
 If it were possible to give a proper direction to 
 the every source of opinion in the Church, the 
 Catholic method of leaving the dogma to be shaped 
 by the current of prevailing ideas, and by a kind 
 of tacit understanding among believers, would be 
 a good deal more profound than the appeal to a 
 fixed revelation, in which people feel bound to find 
 one faith for all ages. 
 
 As a matter of course, the soul deeply penetrated 
 with the sanctity of religious things, will cry oat 
 against this eterual religious remnant of Roman 
 Paganism, which commands not faith, but respect. 
 I shall always remember tenderly the deep horror 
 expressed to me by an American missionary, who 
 had just attended an ofiicial ceremony at the 
 Madeleine. That profane pomp ; those uniforms 
 in the holy place ; the places marked as in a 
 theatre ; all that distraction which assuredly was 
 not of God ; that crowd, in which nobody thought of 
 praying — all left on him the impression of a fright- 
 ful Paganism. A laudable sentiment this, to be 
 sure, and I hasten to say that my sympathies are all 
 
20 CnANNING. 
 
 with earnestness and tenderness of conscience. But, 
 on the other hand, it cannot be denied that Pagan- 
 ism has not very deep roots among certain races, 
 and exacts a certain measm-e of concession. If an 
 abstract, purely monotheistic religion were the 
 best for all men, no religion would be comparable 
 to Islamism. Catholicism, by its varied mysteries, 
 and especially by its worship of the Virgin and the 
 Saints, meets that need of outward demonstration 
 and of plastic art which is so strong in the south 
 of Europe. Besides, it is in the nature of an official 
 religion to make a less imperious demand on belief, 
 precisely because it stands only as an institution to 
 which one can adjust oneself without yielding to 
 it an absolute faith, just as obedience to the laws 
 of the State does not necessarily involve a belief 
 that they are the best in the world. Hence it hap- 
 pens that, at bottom, countries that are rigorously 
 Protestant, where religion is taken up as a very 
 serious matter, are almost as intolerant — for the 
 freethinker, at least — as Catholic countries ; hence, 
 finally, comes the singular fact that Cathohc countries 
 above all, have been familiar with unbelief. Was 
 ever a country less cramped by its rehgion than 
 the Italy of the Middle Ages, and of the Renaissance 
 before the Reformation % The philosophy of the 
 eighteenth century could have had its birth only in a 
 Catholic country.^ These two things rank together, 
 and are associated by a host of subtle analogies 
 which we have no space here to enumerate. 
 
 ^ The opinion that the philosophy of the eighteenth century 
 had its origin in the Eeformation is erroneous. If this phil- 
 osophy has antecedents, we must look for them in the Pagan 
 Italy of 1500. Now, the Eeformation is but a reaction against 
 the Italian unbelief of that period. Need I add, however, 
 that, in & more general sense, the Reformation claims a brilliant 
 share in the work of liberating the human mind, and that every 
 true liberal finds in it a branch of his ancestors. 
 
CHANNING. Si 
 
 Impartial criticism, while it comprehends and ap- 
 ))lands the scruples of the American school, is not, 
 therefore, obliged to share them entirely. It knows 
 that everything on earth borders on good and 
 evil ; on one side, it sees religious indifference re- 
 sulting from the official system ; on the otlier, it 
 sees individual abeiTations resulting from the mania 
 theologico. No doubt, if there were one absolute 
 truth which could reward the efforts made to get 
 at it, it would be incumbent to preach to all men 
 research and examination ; but, in good truth, can 
 -sve hope to be happier than so many others, and to 
 enjoy alone the privilege of receiving the veritable 
 creed of the religion of Christ? In what way 
 would it be of advantage to a country thus to in- 
 dulge the passion of theological research 1 Northern 
 Germany, I know, thanks to its entire religious 
 liberty and to its marvellous aptitude for everything 
 within the domain of thought, has perhaps ac- 
 complished the most beautiful feat in the history 
 of the human soul. But does it appear that Eng- 
 land and the United States, where everyone treats 
 theology as a personal matter, possesses an intellect- 
 ual culture superior to that of France, where no in- 
 dividual makes much of theology ? Is the habitual 
 reading of the Bible — a necessary consequence of 
 the Protestant system — of itself so great a good ? and 
 is the Catholic Church so very culpable in having 
 set a seal upon the book and hidden it from sight ? 
 Certainly not ; and I am tempted to say that the 
 most significant stroke of policy on the part of that 
 great institution was its substituting life and ac- 
 tivity in place of a dumb authority. Tiie Hebrew 
 literature is no doubt admirable in itself, but it is 
 only of value to scholars and critics who can 
 study it in the original, and who can grasp the true 
 sense of each of the fragments whicli compose it. 
 As for those who admire it on trust, they most often 
 
22 CHANNING. 
 
 admire in it something which it does not contain ; 
 the real original character of the books of the Old 
 and New Testaments escapes them. What is to be 
 said of the semi-lettered people who, without the 
 necessary training, plunge into an antiquity so 
 obscure ! Can we imagine the confusion of mind 
 that must result to simple and uninstructed people 
 from the habitual reading of a book like the Apoca- 
 lypse, or even like the Book of Kings ! We know 
 the singular aberrations which resulted in England 
 at the time of the revolution from that unwholesome 
 meditation. In America, the source of such extrava- 
 gances has not yet been cleared away. It is no 
 doubt better to see people reading the Bible than 
 reading nothing, such as takes place in Catholic 
 countries ; but we must likewise avow that the 
 book might be better chosen. It is a sad spectacle 
 to witness an intelligent nation using up its leisure 
 hours on a monument of another age, and seeking 
 all day long for creeds in a book where there are 
 none. 
 
 The efforts of Channing to escape from that 
 pressure of the Bible sometimes conduct him into 
 singular struggles with received texts. Hell, as it 
 is understood by the orthodox, is repugnant to his 
 gentle nature. Hell, to him, is only the conscience, 
 just as Heaven has no fixed place, and is nothing 
 else than union with God and with all good and 
 great beings. This I willingly admit; but how 
 ingenuous to set about counting how many times 
 hell is mentioned in the Bible, to note with satis- 
 faction that that is only five or six times, and that a 
 good translation might even find a means of getting 
 rid altogether of that disagreeable word! That 
 which is revealed is revealed altogether or not at 
 all, and if a single word has come from God, it is 
 not for man to soften it down to suit the progress 
 of his reason. In history, we find the same per- 
 
CHANNING. 23 
 
 plexities. Chanuing is led to construct for himself 
 a primitive religion, wholly ideal, to which it is our 
 duty to return. " The religion," he says, " which was 
 given for the elevation of man, has been made use of 
 to render him abject. The religion which was given 
 to create in us a generous hope, has been made an 
 instrument of servile intimidation and of torture. 
 The religion revealed by God, in order to enrich the 
 human soul, has been employed to shut it up in the 
 enclosure of a narrow sect, to found the Inquisition, 
 and to light the piles of martyrs. The religion, 
 given to render thought and conscience free, has 
 served, by a criminal perversion, to bruise them both 
 in order to subject them to the priests and to purely 
 human creeds." This Protestant theory of an age 
 of gold in Christianity, followed by an age of iron, in 
 which the primitive thought has become obscured, is 
 little agreeable. Christianity was never either so 
 perfect as the Protestants suppose it at its begin- 
 ning, or so degrading as they paint it in its decline. 
 There is no one generation which, in its long age, 
 can be taken as the ideal, as there is no one in which 
 it has wholly failed in its mission. A critical history 
 of the earliest origins of Christianity would exhibit 
 the singular illusions which men have entertained 
 respecting this primitive age — an age as yet so little 
 known, because it has been but little studied, except 
 in a party spirit, and with the intention of finding in 
 it arguments for or against dogmas, the germs of 
 which had then hardly any existence. 
 
 In general, Channing has lacked that which America 
 has so far lacked — high intellectual culture, critical 
 knowledge. He is not perfectly au courant of the 
 things pertaining to the human mind ; he does not 
 know the general result of what is known to his age. 
 As a religion of mind, his religion is not equal to that 
 of northern Germany ; as a grand institution, it is 
 not equal to Catholicism; it demands too many sacri- 
 
24 CHANNING. 
 
 fices from criticism, and it does not demand enough 
 from those who experience the want of beHeving. 
 That the tendency of modern times seems to call 
 for a rehgion of this kind, formed from the common 
 residuum of all the faiths, after the elimination of 
 the doctrinal peculiarities embodied in each, numerous 
 facts would lead us to beheve. The whole of Asia, 
 for two or three centuries past, seems, by the simpU- 
 fication of its old symbols, to have arrived at Deisu.. 
 India, tired of wandering in the labyrinths of endless 
 sects, has reached the same result. Rammohun-Roy, 
 the most illustrious representative of the Brahminic 
 race in our age, died a Unitarian of the same stamp 
 as Channing. Voltaire, translated into Guzarati, does 
 service now in the controversies of Zoroaster's later 
 disciples (become pure Deists) with the Protestant 
 missionaries. Under the revolutionary movements 
 of China, there is evidently concealed an appeal to 
 monotheism, agaiast the degradation with which the 
 did cults of the Celestial Empire seem smitten. Is 
 this, then, an indication which ought to show us that 
 Deism is the final term in the evolution of humanity ? 
 That might be, if the human mind did not embrace, 
 by the side of reason, instincts much more capricious. 
 Religion is not merely philosophy, it is art ; we must 
 not, then, ask it to be too reasonable. That grain of 
 fantasy, which we cannot destroy, will derange what 
 appears to be the most rational combinations. The 
 need of believing in something extraordinary is in- 
 nate in man ; a religion too simple will never satisfy 
 him. Set up the most rigorous barriers ; on the mor- 
 row caprices, particular credences, and shabby prac- 
 tices will again resume their sway. Faith demands 
 the impossible ; nothing less will satisfy it. To this 
 very da}^, the Hindoos every year walk over glowing 
 coals in order to attest the virginity of Draupadi, 
 the common spouse of the five sons of Kourou. 
 
CHANNING. 25 
 
 III. 
 
 The true mission of Channing was evidently alto- 
 gether a moral one. His theology, like every tenta- 
 tive which aspires to resolve an insoluble problem, 
 is very easily assailable ; as to his morality, it can 
 be praised without stint ; it is in this that he is 
 for us original and new. Nothing, in fact, in our 
 European organisations can give us an idea of such 
 an apostleship. In our eyes, the ardour of proselytism, 
 which makes the apostle or the missionary, is worth 
 nothing without a positive and complicated religion, 
 charged with dogmas and observances. Here we 
 have a Vincent de Paul, minus the devotion, a 
 Cheverus, minus the prie.sthood. It is necessary to 
 read the biography which Channing himself has given 
 us of the Rev. Tuckerman, his master and his guide 
 in this view of charity, in order to conceive of the 
 mere form of laical sanctity, as the United States 
 seems destined to reveal it to the world. The 
 eminently English nature of Channing; his gentle- 
 manly delicacy ; his optimism, too, which made the 
 sight of evil a real torture to him, rendered his 
 charitable ministry all the more meritorious. " My 
 spirit seeks the good, the perfect, and the beautiful," 
 he writes. " I cannot without a sort of agony bring 
 vividly befoi^e my imagination what man suffers 
 for his own crimes and for the cruelty of his brothers. 
 The utmost perfection of art, expended upon horrible 
 or purely tragic subjects, cannot reconcile me to 
 those subjects. It is only from a sense of duty that 
 I read in the newspapers the records of crimes and 
 misfortunes. . . . You see I have little of the stuff 
 of a reformer in my constitution." 
 
 But I know nothing in our time that equals these 
 beautiful and noble moral discourses, and this lofty 
 way of talking of social questions. The problems 
 
26 CHANNING. 
 
 which have troubled the human mind among us, 
 and the solution of which is not yet reached, are all 
 resolved in Channing's mind by charity, by respect 
 for man, by the belief that human nature is good, 
 and that, in its free development, it tends to good. 
 Never did anyone more fervently believe in progress, 
 in the beneficent influences of knowledge and civili- 
 sation amongst all classes. Channing is a democrat, 
 in this sense, that he acknowledges no nobility 
 but in virtue and work, that he sees no salvation 
 for humanity save in the intellectual cultivation 
 of the masses of the people, and their adoption 
 into the bosom of the great civilised family. " I 
 am a leveller," he wrote in 1831, " but I would 
 fain accomplish my mission by raising those who 
 are in the lowest rank, by rescuing the labourers 
 from the poverty which degrades, and from the 
 ignorance which brutalises them. If I understand 
 the meaning of Christianity and philanthropy, there 
 is no precept more clear than that." 
 
 In politics, Channing has little penetration. He 
 is liberal, and, what is very rare, liberal from motives 
 of religion. The revolution of 1830 gave him lively 
 joy. He learned the news at Newport, and repaired 
 immediately to Boston, in order to exchange felicita- 
 tions with the friends of constitutional liberty, and 
 to impart from the pulpit the hopes which filled 
 his heart. He was greatly astonished to find only 
 a feeble echo to his enthusiasm, and he cursed more 
 vehemently than ever the torpor of opinion caused 
 by worldly interests. In particular, the coldness 
 of the young men surprised and affected him. Re- 
 calling the processions and bonfires of his early 
 youth, he could not comprehend how the free men 
 of America could view with indifference the re- 
 appearance of Lafayette, the calm firmness of the 
 people, and the future of liberty which seemed to be 
 opening for Europe. One evening, towards this 
 
CIIANNING. 27 
 
 period, he met a persou whom he kuew. *' Well, 
 sir," he said, in a tone of sarcasm which was not 
 liabitual with him, " are you also too old, too wise, 
 like the young men from college, to have any 
 enthusiasm to show in honour of the heroes of the 
 Polytechnic school ? " " Sir," replied his interlocu- 
 tor, " you seem to me to be the only young man 
 that I know." "Alwa^^s young for liberty," responded 
 Channing, in a ringing voice, and grasping the hand 
 of his friend. 
 
 Noble sentiments these, at which one should never 
 blush. And yet, Channing's political and social ideas, 
 so simple, so excellent, so pure, are they any more 
 exempt from criticism than his religious ideas ? 
 The people who realised the ideal of Channing, 
 would they really be a perfect people after the 
 model of a high civilisation as we conceive it? This 
 is open to doubt. It would be an honest people, 
 orderly, composed of good and happy individuals ; 
 it could not be a great people. Human society is 
 more complex than Channing supposed it to be. In 
 presence of calamities, such as those of the Middle 
 Ages, we permit ourselves to think that the one 
 thing essential is to render life as little as possible 
 unhappy ; in presence of mere laxity like that we 
 behold, we easil}^ fancy that the work of social 
 reform might consist in giving to the world a little 
 honesty ; but these are limited views, conceived 
 under the pressure of momentary necessities. Man 
 is not placed on the earth merely to be happy, nor 
 is he placed liere simply to be honest ; he is here to 
 accomplish great things through society, to attain 
 to nobleness, to sancity, as Christianity called it, and 
 to outgrow the vulgarity in which the existence of 
 almost all individuals drags on. The least inconveni- 
 ence in Channing's world would be that people would 
 die of weariness there; genius would be useless; great 
 art would be impossible. The Scotch Puritan of the 
 
28 CHANNING. 
 
 seventeentli century best represents to lis the dream 
 of the Unitarians — a sort of ideal after the fashion 
 of Israel, where everybody should know the Bible, 
 reason out his faith, discuss public affairs ; where 
 drunkenness should be unknown, where no one should 
 hear an oath. But with what very precious gift 
 has the Scotland of the seventeenth century enriched 
 us 1 Would not God have been better adored if, 
 at the risk of a few jarring words, more great and 
 beautiful things had been produced? Italy, its very 
 opposite, is certainly the country in which Chan- 
 ning's ideal has been most faintly realised; in the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Pagan and immoral 
 delivered over to all the transports of passion and of 
 genius ; next, dejected, superstitious, hopeless ; now 
 sombre, irritable, destitute of wisdom. And yet, if 
 we must see Italy sink with its past, or America 
 with its future, which would leave the greatest void 
 in the heart of humanity ? What is the whole of 
 America as compared with one ray of that infinite 
 glory with which towns of second and third rank in 
 Italy — Florence, Pisa, Siena, Perugia — all are aglow? 
 Before they can hold a rank in the scale of human 
 grandeur comparable to these cities. New York and 
 Boston have a great deal to do, and I doubt if they 
 will succeed in approaching it through total ab- 
 stinence societies, and by the propagation of the pure 
 Unitarian doctrine. 
 
 Convinced, with good reason, that the perfection 
 of human society consists solely in the improvement 
 of the individual, Channing fastens passionately on 
 details which do honour to the delicacy of his con- 
 science, but the minuteness of which provokes a 
 smile. He saw clearly that intemperance was the 
 principal cause of the misery and the coarseness of 
 the lower classes; whence he concluded that to attack 
 that, to cure intemperance, would be to attack social 
 evil at its root ; a great portion of his life and efforts 
 
CHANNTNO. 29 
 
 were, in fact, devoted to this undoubtedly pi-aise- 
 wortliy labour. But, really, would a people that drank 
 nothing but water be the greater for it? Would it 
 illustrate a more beautiful page in human history ? 
 Would it reach a higher standard of art, of thought '? 
 This habit of attaching a social importance to a 
 thing which we can only regard as pertaining to 
 individual morality, plainly shows the gulf which 
 divides American thought from ours, and how diffi- 
 cult it will be for the old and the new world, pur- 
 suing such different aims, ever to embrace the same 
 policy and the same faith. 
 
 Indeed, of the two modes of conceiving human 
 progress, either as the result of the gradual elevation 
 of the mass of humanity, and, consequently, of the 
 lower classes, towards a better condition, or as accom- 
 plished by an aristocracy which supposes lying be- 
 neath it a vast abasement — Channing very decidedly 
 attached himself to the former. Woe to him who 
 would not follow his example, but would desert for 
 outgrown prejudices the henceforth incontrovertible 
 cause of modern democracy ! But, taking this side,we 
 should not be blind to the dangers of the path which 
 democratic nations are treading, nor unjust to the 
 entirely different way in which the past has under- 
 stood civilisation. If we could once for all make 
 up our minds to sacrifice a few in view of the 
 necessities of the common work ; if we admitted, as 
 antiquity did, that society is essentially composed of 
 some thousands of individuals living a full life, while 
 the rest existed merely to procure this life for this 
 small number, the problem would be infinitely sim- 
 plified, and would be susceptible of a very much 
 higher solution. We should not have to reckon a 
 crowd of humiliating details of which democracy 
 is compelled to think. The loftiness of a civihsa- 
 tion is usually in the inverse ratio of the number of 
 those who sliare it ; intellectiud culture ceases the 
 
30 CHANNING. 
 
 moment it is anxious to spread ; the crowd pom^ing 
 into cultivated society almost always depresses its 
 level. These are reflections which it is permitted to 
 make without incurring the reproach of denying the 
 most irresistible tendency of the present age ; nay, 
 we will add, that the peculiar character of France, a 
 character by which we mean here neither to prove 
 nor to disparage, does not allow us to suppose that 
 the ideas of Channing could be applied there unless 
 very greatly restricted. 
 
 These ideas, in fact, suppose, or at least aim at, 
 creating an enlightened population rather than a 
 grand culture. Now, in regard to intelligence, France 
 is a country essentially aristocratic. The moral 
 temper of France combines extremes: a common 
 people generally below the average, and by the side 
 of this common people an aristocracy of intellect, to 
 which, probably, no other can be compared. Nowhere 
 do we find at once so much mind and so little taste for 
 liberal things. Education, as Channing understands 
 it, would, among us, be too strong for some, too 
 weak for others. In religion, Channiug's ideas — and 
 I mean no reproach to them when I say it — seem no 
 better adapted to our country. France is almost 
 destitute of i-eligious spontaneity. Had France been 
 capable of originating a religious movement of its own, 
 it would have become Protestant. Never will cir- 
 cumstances be as favourable as they were in the six- 
 teenth century, never will more heroism be dis- 
 played. Well, France — we must say it with regret — 
 rejected Protestantism as uncongenial to its nature. 
 France is the most orthodox country in the world, 
 for it is the most indifferent to religion. To inno- 
 vate in theology is to believe in theology. Now, 
 France has too much mind ever to be a theological 
 country. Heresy has no business there ; the only 
 heresiarch it has produced — Calvin — met with no 
 success until he passed its frontiers. It is greatly 
 
CHANNTNG. 31 
 
 to be feared that the miserable abortiveness of all 
 the attempts which have been proposed more 
 recently to modify the forms and the spirit of 
 Catholicism among us is an indication of the fate 
 reserved for undertakings of the same kind in the 
 future. 
 
 In religion, as in everything, France desires the 
 universal, and cares little for the delicate and the 
 distinguished. Precisely because of its profound 
 piety, it loves not the small sects, the separatists, 
 the religions of chapels and cliques which the 
 English race so greatly delights in. Religious contro- 
 versy is bad taste in France ; it does not comprehend 
 how people can dispute about such matters. The 
 argument against Protestantism which theologians 
 draw from its perpetual divisions, and from the new 
 sects it produces without ceasing (as if this were 
 not really a sign of hfe and of religious activity, 
 as if uniformity of belief were not almost always 
 caused by mental abasement), this argument, I say, 
 is considered in France quite decisive. This is the 
 reason why, after every effort made to stir its in- 
 difference, France falls back more readily than ever 
 into Catholicism or incredulity. This country is 
 absolute in everything ; it must have sharply-cut 
 theses, which give it room to apply its rhetoric 
 and to satisfy its taste for general declamation. 
 The wise men see and desire something better ; but 
 the wise men are not of their country. The phil- 
 osophy of the eighteenth century, which is some- 
 thing eminently French, is in one sense profoundly 
 Catholic, though its universal tendency is lack 
 of criticism, indifference to fine distinctions, and its 
 claim to substitute another infallibility for theologi- 
 cal infallibility. 
 
 We cannot hope, then, it seems to me, that the 
 ideas of Channing are destined to gather a very 
 large family of adherents amongst us. He under- 
 
32 CHANNING. 
 
 stood this himself. His letters to MM. Sismondi 
 and de Gerando betray a constant mindfulness of 
 France, and, in the midst of sentiments expressing 
 a lively sympathy, let but little hope stream out. 
 " I wish," he wrote to the latter, " to put a question 
 to you, to which you will reply, I hope, with perfect 
 irankness. Are the religious views unfolded in my 
 volume in any respect applicable to the needs and 
 to the condition of France 1 I am not sorry to 
 read, in your letter, that the English sects do not 
 succeed in extending themselves among you. They 
 can give but a poor form of religion. For some time 
 past, England has made but little progress in the 
 higher truths. Her missionaries, if people listened 
 to them, would force France backward three cen- 
 turies. I think that religion when it shall revive 
 among you, will appear in a diviner form. I think 
 that France, after so many efforts after progress, will 
 not resume the worm-eaten theology of the ages 
 of antiqnity." " I neither hope nor desire," he writes 
 to M. Sismondi, " that Christianity should revive 
 in France under its ancient forms. Something better 
 is needed. . . . One of the greatest means of re- 
 storing Christianity is to break the habit, almost 
 universal in France, of identifying it with Catholi- 
 cism, or with the old Protestantism. Another 
 method is to show how entirely it is in harmony 
 with the spirit of Uberty, of philanthropy, of pro- 
 gress, and to make it appear that these principles 
 demand the aid of Christianity for their full develop- 
 ment. The identity of this religion with the most 
 expansive benevolence requires, in particular, to 
 be well understood. Unless Christianity can fulfil 
 all these conditions, I cannot desire its success." 
 ."Whence do we derive health T' asks he in another 
 place. " This is a question which is perpetually 
 rising before my mind. Does the world receive 
 propulsion from individual reformers^ or from new 
 
CHANNING. 33 
 
 institutions'? Is the work accomplished by a silent 
 action which is felt in the bosom of the masses ? 
 Or, again, are violent convulsions, overthrowing the 
 powers that be necessary, as in the case of the fall 
 of the Roman empire, to introduce reform worthy of 
 that name? I fear sometimes that the latter means 
 would be of little avail, so utterly corrupt do both 
 the Church and State seem to me." 
 
 These doubts as to the religious future of the 
 old world never were absent Irom his mind. He 
 perceived that his liberal and untraditional Christi- 
 anity, though suitable to a young country, which 
 is founded, if I may say so, on another state of 
 humanity, yet would be inapplicable to our old 
 civilisation, where everybody is, after his own fashion, 
 antiquarian. He was a thorough American. There, 
 indeed, as it appears to us, his ideas will have an 
 immense future. For the first time in the world, 
 the United States is perhaps destined to realise 
 an enlightened, purely individual religion, calculated 
 to make men honest and wholly exempt from 
 metaphysical pretensions. The name of Channing 
 will no doubt be bound up in such a foundation, 
 not as the chief of a sect (he would himself have 
 been the first to repudiate such an honour), but 
 as one of the men in Avhom the new movement 
 first found its complete and attractive expression. 
 
 If the problem of the world could be solved by 
 integrity of mind, simplicity and moderation of 
 spirit, Channing would have solved it ; but other 
 qualities are necessary to this, and Channing, who 
 may have received them from nature, as far as 
 nature imparts them, was not placed in an intel- 
 lectual centre where such ideas could be developed 
 and made to fructify. But here let us say that there 
 is nothing which can outweigh honesty, goodness 
 and true piety, these inestimable gifts of great souls. 
 When God formed the heart of man, he prematurely 
 
 C 
 
34 chaNnij^C. 
 
 * 
 implanted in it goodness, the essential character- 
 istics of the divine nature, and to be the symbol of 
 that beneficent hand ^ whence we have proceeded." 
 Goodness by itself, however, does not suffice to 
 unravel the problems of life. It is beautiful enough 
 in its way — as a consolation in life, but not as a 
 revealer of its secrets. To this, science and genius 
 are as necessary as loftiness of heart and pin-ity 
 of soul. A world without science and without genius 
 is as incomplete as a world without goodness. 
 Channing understood but little of the former, and 
 in this connection he was at fault in representing 
 things to be so much more simple than they are 
 in reality. 
 
 God knows that I would not discourage those 
 noble-minded men who, being struck with the imper- 
 fection of our religious condition, desire reform, 
 and endeavour to find a worship more adapted 
 to their needs. Even when such efforts result only 
 in ameliorating and consoling a few rare souls — is 
 that not to be regarded as recompense enough? 
 But I dare not hope for these such an expanded 
 and really social movement. It does not appear 
 that there is henceforth any room for new and 
 original speculations in the field of theology, nor 
 that the religious state of humanity is susceptible 
 of changing in any notable manner. Buddhism, it 
 is true, seems destined to disappear, while Islamism 
 alone shall be eternal with the Arab race ; but it 
 is difficult to believe that the equilibrium of the 
 three great branches of Christianity which centuries 
 have founded (the Latin, or Catholic Church, the 
 Greek, or Orthodox Church, and Protestantism), 
 must henceforward pass through great trouble. Will 
 the relations of philosophy to Christianity change 
 here'^ Will one of these two forms of human 
 thought succeed in absorbing the other? Or, again, 
 
 ^ Bossuet. 
 
CHANNING. 35 
 
 win a durable peace succeed in reconciling their 
 contradictory aims? It is not to be thought of. 
 Philosophy, as regards numbers, will also be in an 
 insignificant minority, but it will be impossible to 
 suppress it, unless, at the same time, we destroy 
 civihsation. To maintain these rival powers in 
 face of one another, not to discourage those who 
 desire to reconcile them, and yet not to trust too 
 implicitly in the reconciliation of enemies who 
 are likely to fall out again to-morrow — this is the 
 only programme which a truly critical mind can 
 propose in these times. It Avould be unjust to 
 reproach the past for not having practised a toler- 
 ance, which is only the result, good or bad, of 
 the intellectual state to which we have attained ; 
 but it is not the less certain that liberty is the 
 only religious code of modern times, and one can 
 hardly conceive how, after being accustomed to 
 regard one's belief in a wholly relative manner, 
 humanity can habituate itself anew to accept them 
 as the absolute truth. 
 
M. FEUERBACH AND THE NEW 
 HEGELIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 Every considerable evolution in the field of human 
 opinions is worthy of attention, even when one does 
 not attach an j great value to the fund of ideas which 
 are in question. It is in virtue of this that the man 
 devoted to critical researches cannot avoid giving 
 attention to the labours of the neo-Hegelian school 
 , on Christianity, although these labours do not always 
 , bear a strictly scientific character, and although the 
 fantasy of the humorist has often more share in 
 them than the severe method of the historian. 
 I The antipathy of the new German school to Christi- 
 anity dates from Goethe. Pagan by nature, and, 
 especially by literary method, Goethe had little taste 
 for the assthetics which substituted the gausape of the 
 slave for the toga of the freeman, the sickly virgin for 
 the antique Venus, and for the ideal perfection of the 
 human body as represented by the gods of Greece, 
 the emaciated image of a crucified man torn by four 
 nails. Impervious either to fear or to tears, Jupiter 
 was in truth the god of that great man", and we are 
 hence not surprised at seeing him place the colossal 
 head of that god in front of his bed, exposed to the 
 rising sun, so that he might be able to address his 
 morning prayers to it. 
 
 Hegel has not less decidedly pronounced in favour 
 of the religious ideal of the Hellenes and against the 
 intrusion of the Syrian or Galilean elements. The 
 legend of Christ seems to him to be conceived on the 
 
M. FEUERBACH. 37 
 
 same plan as tlie Alexandrine biography of Pjtha- 
 gorus. According to him, it has passed into the 
 most vulgar domain of realism, and on no account 
 into a world of poetry : It is an agglomeration cf 
 paltry mysticism and ghastly chimeras, such as one 
 encounters among whimsical people who are not 
 endowed with a fine imagination. The Old and the 
 New Testaments have, in his eyes, no aesthetic value. 
 
 It is the same thesis which has so c»ften excited the 
 nerves of Henri Heine. The learned school of pure 
 Germanists (MM. Gervinus, Lassen, etc.), who, accord- 
 ing to the ingenious expression of Ozanam, cannot 
 pardon their Christian gentleness for having spoiled 
 bellicose ancestors for them, has abounded in the 
 same sense. But M. Louis Feuerbach^ is undoubtedly 
 the most advanced representative, if not the most 
 serious, of the antipathy of which we speak, and if 
 the nineteenth century must see the end of the world, 
 it would certainly be he who must be called the Anti- 
 christ. 
 
 As near as may be, M. Feuerbach has defined 
 Christianity as a perversion of human nature, and the 
 Christian aesthetic as a perversion of the most secret 
 instincts of the human heart. The incessant lamenta- 
 tions of Christians, a propos of their sins, appeared to 
 him intolerable simpering ; the humility and poverty 
 of monastic life are only to him the w^orship of dirt 
 and ugliness, and he would heartily say with Uutilius 
 Numatianus : " Tell me, then, is this sect less fatal 
 than the prison of Circe '? Circe changed bodies, now 
 it is spirits that are changed into swine." 
 
 ^Tlie most important writings of M. Feuerbach and tlie neo- 
 Hegelian school hav^e been collected and translated by ]\1. Herman 
 Ewerbeck, in two volumes, entitled, the one : W/tat is Religion /* 
 the other : What in the Bible according to the 7iciv (Jerman Phil- 
 osophy'^ (Paris, 1850.) It is a pity that tlie translator, whose 
 disinterestedness merits praise, has mixed writings it might 
 be well to know with fragments of no value, and some of which 
 can in no sense be taken seri(jusly. 
 
38 M. FEURBACH. 
 
 Let us here say boldly, and with the more assur- 
 ance since we desire here to oppose only considera- 
 tions of art to the views of the same order, that the 
 critical spirit cannot admit so absolute a judgment. 
 Wherever there is originah'ty, a true expansion of 
 any instincts of human nature, one must recognise 
 and adore the beautiful. Let this aesthetic feeHng 
 be as sad as you please, it nevertheless possesses 
 boldness and grandeur. Though dull and uncouth 
 as compared with the learned fables of Greece, this 
 legend, independently of its incomparable morality, 
 possesses, even when regarded only from the point 
 of view of art, as great natural simplicity. Good 
 taste refused the name of beauty to everything 
 that did not attain to perfection of form. Such is 
 not our criterium : we excuse barbarism wherever 
 we find the expression of a new mode of feeling and 
 the true breath of the human soul. 
 
 Would to God that M. Feuerbach had bathed in 
 richer fountains of life than those of his exclusive 
 and supercilious Germanism ! Ah ! if seated upon 
 the ruins of Mount Palatin or of Mount Coehus, he 
 had heard the stroke of the everlasting bells linger 
 and die upon the deserted hills where Rome stood 
 formerly; or if from the solitary seashore of the Lido 
 he had listened to the carillon of Saint Mark dying 
 away on the surface of the lagoons ; if he had seen 
 Assisi and its wonderful mysteries, its double basilica 
 and the grand legend of the middle ages of the 
 second Christ traced by the pencil of Ciambue and 
 Giotto ; if he had felt himself grow weary with the 
 long, sweet regards of the Virgins of Perugino, 
 or at San Dominico of Siena had seen Saint Catherine 
 in ecstasy ! no, M. Feuerbach would not thus cast 
 opprobrium upon the poetry of one half of humanity, 
 and would not exclaim as if he were exorcising the 
 shade of Iscariot ! 
 
 The error of M. Feuerbach lies almost always in 
 
M. FEUERBACH, 80 
 
 his aastbetic judgments. Facts are often presented 
 by him with sufficient skill : but they are always 
 apprised with revolting severity and with the deter- 
 mination to find everythiug Christian ugly, atrocious 
 or ridiculous. One can agree with him in many 
 points of detail without sharing any of his views in 
 regard to the general morality of history. Yes, the 
 great difference between Hellenism and Christianity 
 is that Hellenism is natural, and Christianity super- 
 natural. The religious of antiquity were nothing 
 but the State, the family, art and morals raised 
 to an exalted and poetic expression ; they were not 
 cognisant of renunciation and sacrifice ; they did not 
 divide life ; the distinction of sacred and profane had 
 no existence for them. Antiquity in its modes of 
 feeling is direct and simple ; Christianity, on the 
 contrary, always on its guard against nature, seeks 
 out the strange and the paradoxical. It prefers 
 abstinence to enjoyment, while good ought to 
 be sought for in its opposite. The wisdom of the 
 flesh (that is to say, natural wisdom) is foolish- 
 ness, the foolishness of the Cross is wisdom. Are 
 the -writings of St Paul from one end to the other 
 aught else than the deliberate reversal of human 
 meanings, an anticipatory commentary on the 
 Credo quia ahsuvdiuti of Tertullian ? The distinction 
 between the flesh and the spirit, unknown to the 
 ancients, for wht^m human life preserved its har- 
 monious unity, kindled henceforward a war, which 
 eigliteen centuries have not been able to extinguish, 
 between man and himself. 
 
 Hence we see strange overturnings compensated 
 by grand moral conquests. The errors which were 
 known to antiquity only by the cults the most deeply 
 steeped in superstition, became contagious. Upon 
 Avhat does the meditation of Christian piety exercise 
 itself by preference? the imagination of the ecstatic? 
 Is it upon the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, upon those 
 
40 M. FEURBACH. 
 
 dialectical dogmas which are received as sealed for- 
 mulas? No. It is upon the little infant, the Santo 
 Bambino in his manger. He is not accounted holy 
 who has not kissed his feet ; Saint Catherine 
 of Siena espoused him, and others like her have 
 folded him in their arms. It is upon the Passion, 
 upon the suffering Christ. He is no saint who has 
 not felt the print in his pierced hands and in his open 
 side ; Saint Madeleine of Pazzi saw him in her dreams 
 shedding out iive- fountains of blood from his five 
 wounds ; others have seen his heart pierced and 
 bleeding. It is upon Mary ; Mary has sufficed to 
 satisfy the requirements of the love of ten centuries 
 of ascetics. Mary has entered by full title into the 
 Trinity ; she greatly excels that third forgotten 
 person, the Holy Ghost, without either lovers or 
 adorers. She completes the divine family ; for it 
 would have been marvellous if the feminine element, 
 in its triumph, had not succeeded in mounting up to 
 the very bosom of God, and, between Father and 
 Son, there had not been enthroned the Mother ! ^ 
 
 In like manner the ideal of morality changes, but, 
 in a sense, becomes elevated and ennobled. Paganisn), 
 taking human nature as just and good, conse- 
 crated the whole of it, even its baser parts ; this 
 was the mistake, the error. Christianity, on the 
 other hand, by placing nature too absolutely under 
 the ban, fostered that taste for the abject and the 
 ugly which led away the Middle Ages. The man of 
 antiquity, Aristides or Solon, floats tranquilly in the 
 current of life ; his perfections and imperfections are 
 those of our nature. The Christian man mounts the 
 column of the Stylite, withdraws from everything, 
 and, using only so much of the surface of this earth 
 
 ^ The representations of the Incoronata, in which Mary, placed 
 between Father and Son, receives the crown from the hands of 
 the former, and the homage of the latter, describe the true 
 Trinity of Christian piety. 
 
M. FEU REACH. 41 
 
 as that which he must vest his feet upon, places 
 himself between heaven and earth. The ideal of the 
 beautiful degenerates in pureness, but gains in depth. 
 The ideal is no longer nature ennobled, the perfection 
 of the real, the flower of that which is ; the ideal is 
 the anti-natural, it is the corpse of a dead God, it is 
 the pallid and veiled Addolorata, it is Madeleine 
 torturing her body. If one had proposed to the 
 artist of antiquity one of the subjects which Chris- 
 tianity delights in — the Virgin, the Crucifix — he 
 would have spurned it from him as being out of 
 the question. The Ceres dolorosa is beautiful as a 
 woman and as a mother, but the Virgin ! . . . 
 her conception, her delivery are supernatnral : her 
 brothers are angels ; here below she has neither 
 sister nor spouse. So, when Christian art, return- 
 ing to profane tradition, goes to seek the types of 
 the Madonna at Albano or Transtevera, it will be 
 a sacrilege against which the Christian conscience 
 will justly cry out. Prometheus chained to his 
 rock is still beautiful. But Jesus upon the Cross ! 
 If you seek to realise in that attenuated form the 
 ideal of human forms, the harmonious proportions of 
 the Dionysius or the Apollo, if you give to that 
 thorn-crowned head the high placidity of the Olym- 
 pian Jupiter, it is an absurdity and almost an impiety. 
 The Byzantine Church was logical in obstinately 
 maintaining the thesis of the Christ's physical repul- 
 siv^eness. This must be represented as spare, attenu- 
 ated and bleeding: let them count all his bones, let 
 them take him for a leper, a worm of the earth, and 
 no man. Putavimus eiim quasi leprosum. . , . Non 
 est species ei neqiie decor. Despectum iwvissimn virorum, 
 virinn dolorum et scientem infirmitatem} 
 
 In good truth all this is strange, new, unheard of, 
 
 1 We have regarded him as a leper. . . . He liath no foi in 
 nor conielincs.s. , . . Despised and rejected of men ; a man <if 
 sorrows and ac(|uaint(Hl with grief. 
 
42 M. FEURBACH. 
 
 and Saint Paul had good reason to call it scandal 
 and folly. But all this belongs to human nature ; it 
 all came in its season ; all this issued at its time from 
 the eternal seed which contains beautiful things. A 
 great modification was taking place in human nature : 
 a tepid, humid wind blew from the south and relaxed its 
 hardness. Love changed its object ; to the enthusiasm 
 for the beautiful succeeded enthusiasm for suffering, 
 the apotheosis of the Man of Sorrow, acquainted with 
 grief, the "Divine Leper," as Bossuet^ called him. 
 
 It is through a grave misunderstanding that the 
 reproach of materialism has been ascribed to antiquity. 
 Antiquity is neither materialistic nor spiritualistic, it 
 is human. Life in antiquity, so serene, so graceful 
 in its fair proportions, did not open out into the 
 infinite. Look at these charming little houses of 
 Pompeii ; how gay they are, how finished, but how 
 narrow and pent up ! Everywhere repose and joy, 
 everywhere pictures of happiness and of pleasure. 
 But that no longer suffices us : we can longer con- 
 ceive life without sadness. Penetrated as we are 
 with our supernaturalistic ideas, and our thirst for 
 the infinite, this art so limited, this morality 
 so simple, this plan of life so bounded in ail its 
 parts, seem to us a narrow realism. Castor and 
 Pollux, Diana and Minerva are to us cold images, 
 because they represent nature in its healthy and 
 normal state. Yet we must be on our guard ; these 
 grand airs of abstention and of sacrifice are often 
 only a refinement of instincts which feed on their 
 opposite qualities. Christian spiritualism is, at 
 bottom, much more sensual than what is called the 
 materialism of antiquity, and sometimes resembles 
 weakness. The Dorian Artemis, that masculine 
 
 1 This side of Christianity has never been grasped with more 
 energy and originality than by Bossuet in the admirable ser- 
 mons, "On the Passion," and "On the Com})assion of the Holy 
 Yirgin." 
 
M. FEUERBACII. 43 
 
 young woman who touclied the severe Hippolytus, 
 has always seemed to me more austere than the 
 "dear Saint Eh'zabeth " with whom M. de Mont- 
 alembert became so terribly eoamoured.i Tliose who 
 have visited Naples may have seen in the chapel 
 Deha Pieta de Sangri, a Pudicizia covered with a 
 long veil, which clings to her whole person in a 
 manner to suggest beneath the marble folds, the 
 form rendered more seductive by mystery. On the 
 other hand, in the ]\Iuseum of the Vatican, there is 
 an antique Modesty, half nude, but veiled by its 
 severe beauty. . . . Which, think you, is really the 
 more chaste? Greece, with its exquisite tact, has 
 perceived in every thiog the golden mien, the fleet- 
 ing shadows, a line which is seized at moments, but 
 which one cannot retain. Moderation, indeed, ap- 
 pears, in time, cold and monotonous ; one grows 
 tired of just proportion and good taste ; the perfectly 
 pure types no longer suffice : one wishes for the 
 strange, the superhuman and the supernatural. 
 
 It is not the fault of individuals or of systems that 
 religious sentiments are subjected to those profound 
 revolutions. It is not willingly that man quits the 
 gentle and easy parts of the plain for the sharp and 
 romantic peaks of the mountain. That happens be- 
 cause symmetry and proportion, which represent only 
 the finite, have become insufficient for the heart which 
 aspires to the infinite. As long as humanity confines 
 itself within just and narrow limits, it is at rest, and 
 happy in its mediocrity ; but, when it lends the ear 
 to the vastest requirements, it becomes exiguous and 
 unhappy, though, in one sense, more noble ; it will, 
 in art and in morals, prefer suffering, the unsatisfied 
 
 1 liCt it be understood tliat I am speaking only of the lofty 
 and pure antiquity of Greece. I nuist observe, too, that the 
 present question is, first of all, one of aesthetics and of taste, and 
 must be settled t>y an examination of works of art and of 
 poetry. 
 
44 M. FEURBACH. 
 
 desire, the vague and painful feelings which have 
 their birth in the infinite, to the full and complete 
 satisfaction which a finished work procures. 
 
 But if there be one incurable evil, it is, thank God, 
 this. The delicate are the unfortunate, but one 
 cannot cure delicateness. We can perceive that we 
 have bent the mind away, but we cannot straighten 
 it again. And then aberration has so many charms, 
 and correctness is so tedious ! An ancient temple 
 possesses incontestably a purer beauty than a Gothic 
 church, and yet we spend hours in tlie latter without 
 fatigue, while we cannot, without being tired, remain 
 five minutes in the former. That proves, according 
 to M. Feuerbach, that we are perverted ; but what 
 is to be done about it? If M. Feuerbach had limited 
 himself to pointing out these contrasts with serenity 
 and affectionately; if, content with observing curi- 
 ously the alterations of human sentiments, if he 
 had not met the often gratuitous enthusiasm of the 
 believer with a hate more gratuitous still, we should 
 not have had the right to treat him with so much 
 severity. But the impartial philosopher cannot 
 subscribe to the absolute condemnation thatM. Feuer- 
 bach hurls against eighteen centuries of history of 
 the human mind ; for, let us reflect, it is the human 
 mind itself that is in question. It serves no pur- 
 pose for him to turn his hatred against the words 
 Christianity, Theology, etc. What then has 
 created Christianity? What has created Theology? 
 Humanity accepts no other chains than those which 
 she herself imposes. Humanity has created all, and, 
 we are fain to believe, done everything well. 
 
 Moreover, it is not supernaturalism alone .which 
 falls under the lash of the criticism of the new German 
 school. M. Feuerbach and all the philosophers of 
 that school declare unhesitatingly that theism, natural 
 religion — all systems, in a word, which admit any thing- 
 transcendental, ought to be put on the same foot- 
 
M. FEUERBACH. 45 
 
 ing as supernatural ism. Belief in God and in the 
 immortality of" the soul is, in his eyes, Avholly as 
 sujDerstitious as to believe in the Trinity and in 
 miracles. Criticism of the skies is, according to him, 
 only criticism of the earth. Theology ought to be- 
 come anthropology. All thoughts of a superior world, 
 all regard cast by man beyond himself and the actual, 
 all rehgious sentiment under whatever form it mani- 
 fests itself, is but an illusion. But not to be severe 
 towards such a philosophy, we will only look upon 
 it as a misapprehension. M. Feuerbach has written 
 at the head of the second edition of his Essence of 
 Clirlstianity : By this book I have undone myself with 
 God and with the luorld. We fear that for this he is a 
 little at fault himself, and that, if he had so wished, 
 God and the world would have forgiven him. Carried 
 away by that evil tone w4iich reigns in the German 
 universities, and which I unhesitatingly call the 
 pedantry of audacity^ many upright minds and honest 
 souls claim, without meriting, the honours of Atheism. 
 When a German vaunts his impiety, we mast never 
 take him at his word. Germany is not capable of 
 being irreligious ; religion, that is to say, the aspira- 
 tion after an ideal world, is the very foundation of its 
 nature. When it would be Atheistic, it is so devot- 
 edly, and with a sort of unction. But if you practise 
 the cult of the beautiful and the true, if the sanctity 
 of the moral speaks to your heart : if everything 
 beautiful and everything true leads you back to the 
 hearth of holy life : then, when arrived there, you 
 forbear speech, you envelop your head, you purposely 
 confound thought and language in order to say 
 nothing partial in the presence of the infinite, how 
 dare you speak of Atheism ? But if your faculties, 
 vibrating in unison, have never responded to that 
 grand peculiar One whom we call God, I have 
 nothing more to say ; you are lacking in the essential 
 and characteristic element of our natuie. 
 
4B M. FEtTRBACH. 
 
 To those who, planting themselves on substance^ 
 ask me " This God, is He, or is He not ? " "Ah I " I 
 reply, " God ! It is He that is, and all else only seems 
 to be." Let it be supposed, however, that to suit our 
 philosophy some other phrase would be preferred, see- 
 ing that abstract terms do not express with sufficient 
 clearness real existence, it would be a terrible in- 
 convenience for us to cut off thus all the poetic 
 sources of the past, and to separate ourselves by our 
 speech from the simple, who adore so well in their 
 way. The word God, possessing as it does the 
 respect of humanity, that word long sanctioned by 
 it, and having been employed in the finest poems ; 
 to abandon it, I say, would be to reverse all the 
 usages of language. Tell the simple to live a life of 
 aspiration ; to seek after the true, the beautiful, 
 and the moral, the words would have for them no 
 meaning. Tell them to love God, not to offend God, 
 they will understand you at once. God, Providence, 
 Immortality — good old words, a little clumsy, per- 
 haps, which philosophy may ititerpret in a sense 
 more and more refined, but which it will never re- 
 place with advantage. Under one form or another 
 God will always be the embodiment of our super- 
 natural wants, the category of the ideal (that is to say, 
 the form under which we conceive the ideal), exactly 
 as space and time are the categories of the body (that 
 is to say, the forms under which we conceive bodies). 
 In other words, man, placed in presence of things 
 beautiful, good or true, goes out of himself, and, 
 caught up by a celestial charm, annihilates his pitiful 
 personality, and becomes exalted, absorbed. What 
 is this if it be not adoration? 
 
SPINOZA. 
 
 Your Royal Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen, — 
 Two hundred years ago to-day (21st February 
 1877), at about this hour in the afternoon, there 
 exj)ired, at the age of forty-three, on the quiet quay 
 of the Pavilioengragt, only a few steps from here, 
 a poor man whose life had been so profoundly silent 
 that his last sigh was scarcely heard. He occupied 
 an out-of-the-way room in the house of a worthy 
 couple, who, without understanding him, entertained 
 for him a sincere re^^rard. On the mornino- of the 
 day on which he died, he descended from his room 
 to salute, as usual, his hosts. It was a day on which 
 religious services had been held, and the kindly 
 philosopher conversed with the good people touching 
 wliat the minister had said, approved of the advice 
 given by the latter, and counselled them to comply 
 with it. The host and hostess (let us name them, 
 gentlemen, for their honest sincerity entitles them 
 to a place in this beautiful idyl of La Hague, related 
 by Colerus), the Van der Spycks, husband and wife, 
 went back to church to their devotions. When they 
 returned home, their quiet lodger was dead. The 
 funeral took place on tlie 25th February, and a service 
 was held in the new church on the Spu}', as though 
 he had been one of the faithful of Christ. All 
 the people of the neighbourhood regretted much 
 the disappearance of tlie sage who had lived amongst 
 them as one of themselves. His hosts cherished his 
 memory with a religious regard, and those wlio 
 
48 SPINOZA. 
 
 had approached him never would speak of him after- 
 wards without calling him " the blessed Spinoza." 
 
 Anyone who could, about that time, discern the 
 current of opinion which was being formed in the 
 make-believe enlightened Pharisseeism circles of that 
 day, would, in singular contrast, have witnessed 
 that philosopher, so beloved of the simple-minded 
 and of such as were of a pure heart, become the 
 bugbear of the narrow orthodoxy which affected to 
 be the possessor of the truth. A villain, a scourge, 
 an imp of hell, the most wicked atheist that ever 
 had lived, a man steeped in crime — such, in the 
 opinion of theologians and deep-thinking philoso- 
 phers, was what the recluse of the Pavilioengragt 
 had come to be. Portraits of him were scattered 
 abroad, in which he was represented as "bearing 
 upon his face the signs of reprobation." A great 
 philosopher, as bold as he, but not so consistent and so 
 completely sincere, called him a " wretch." But justice 
 veered round in turn. The human mind, about the 
 end of the eighteenth century, attaining, especially 
 in Germany, to a more enlightened theology and a 
 broader philosophy, recognised in Spinoza the pre- 
 cursor of a new Gospel. Jacobi let the public into 
 his confidence in regard to a conversation he had 
 with Spinoza. He had gone to Lessing's house in the 
 hope that Lessing would come to his assistance against 
 Spinoza. You may guess his astonishment when 
 he discovered that Lessing was an avowed Spinozist ! 
 " Ev ya] Tuv," said the latter to him ; here is the 
 whole of philosophy. He, who had been denounced 
 for a whole century as an atheist, Novalis found 
 to be " inebriated of God. " His books, now long 
 forgotten, were published, and eagerly sought after. 
 Scheiermacher, Goethe, Hegel, Schelling, proclaimed 
 Spinoza with one voice to be the father of modern 
 thought. There may have been some exaggeration 
 in this first outburst of tardy reparation, but time, 
 
SPINOZA. 49 
 
 which puts everything in its proper place, has 
 confirmed throii^'hout the verdict of Lessino- • and 
 there is no enhghtened person to-day who does 
 not recognise that Spinoza penetrated the divine 
 conscience to a greater extent than any of his con- 
 temporaries. Gentlemen, it is this belief that has 
 made you anxious that this humble and holy tomb 
 should have its anniversary. It is the common 
 affirmation of an unhampered faith in the infinite, 
 which, on this day, has succeeded in bringing together, 
 on this spot which has been the witness of so much 
 virtue, the most select gathering that a man of 
 genius could group around him after his death. 
 A sovereign, as distinguished by gifts of intellect 
 as by those of the soul, is present in spirit amongst 
 us. A prince, who can justly apprize every kind 
 of merit, has, in adding eclat to this solemnity by 
 his presence, deigned to bear w^itness that he is no 
 stranger to any of the glories of Holland, and that 
 there is no thought so elevated as to escape his 
 enlightened judgment or his philosophic admiration. 
 
 I. 
 
 The illustrious Baruch de Spinoza was born at 
 Amsterdam at the very time when your republic had 
 attained the zenith of its glory and its power. He 
 belonged to that great race which, by the infiuence 
 it has exercised, and by the services which it has 
 rendered, occupies so exceptional a place in the 
 history of civilisation. The development of the 
 Jewish people, in its way a sort of miracle, takes 
 place side by side with that other miracle, -the de- 
 velopment of the Greek mind ; for if Greece was 
 the first to realise the ideal of poetry, science, pliilo- 
 sophy, art, and the profane life, if I may tluis 
 express myself, it was, in liko mannei-, tlic 
 
 1.) 
 
50 SPINOZA. 
 
 Jewish people which has given the human species 
 its religion. The Jewish prophets inaugurated in 
 the world the idea of justice, the vindication of the 
 rights of the weak — a vindication so much the more 
 hard, because, all ideas of future rewards being strange 
 to them, they dreamed of the realisation of this ideal 
 upon this earth and in a near future. Isaiah, a Jew, 
 seven hundred and fifty years before Jesus Christ, made 
 bold to say that sacrifices were of little consequence, 
 and that the one thing which availed was clean 
 hands and purity of heart. Next, when events in 
 the world seem to counteract in an irremediable 
 manner these glittering Utopias, Israel makes an 
 unparalleled volte - face, relegating to the domain 
 of pure idealism that Kingdom of God which did 
 not comport with this world. A moiety of his sons 
 founded Christianity ; another, continues, through the 
 funeral piles of the Middle Ages, that imperturbable 
 protest, " Hear, Israel ; Jehovah, thy God, is 
 unique ; holy is his name." This powerful tradition 
 of idealism and of hoping against all hope, this re- 
 ligion which demanded of its adherents the most 
 heroic sacrifices without (and which was of its 
 very essence) promising anything certain in return 
 beyond this life, was the healthy and bracing atmo- 
 sphere in which Spinoza was reared. His education, 
 at the commencement, was exclusively Hebraic ; the 
 literature of Israel was at first, and, to speak, truly, 
 his perpetual mistress, the meditation of his whole life. 
 As usually happens, Hebrew literature became, 
 on taking the character of a sacred book, the sub- 
 ject of a conventional exegesis, the object of which, 
 in truth, was less to explain old texts according to 
 the meaning of their authors than to find in them 
 nourishment for the moral and religious wants of 
 the times. The keen mind of young Spinoza soon 
 discovered the defects of the exegesis of the syna- 
 gogue. The Bible, as it was taught to him, was 
 
SPINOZA. 51 
 
 disfigured by more than two thousand years of 
 accumulated misrepresentations. He was eager to 
 cut into these. At bottom he was at one with 
 the true fathers of Judaism, especially with that 
 great Maimonide, who had been instrumental in 
 introducing into Judaism the boldest philosophy. 
 Spinoza, with marvellous sagacity, divined the great 
 results of the critical exegesis which, one hundred 
 and twenty-five years later, was to give the finest 
 works of Hebrew genius a true interpretation. Was 
 that to destroy the Bible ? Has this admirable 
 literature lost anything by being presented in its 
 true colours, instead of being placed outside the 
 laws common to humanity. Certainly not. Truths 
 revealed by science always eclipse the dreams which 
 science has destroyed. The world of Laplace, I 
 imagine, surpasses in beauty that of a Cosmos 
 Indicopleustes, which represents the universe as a 
 box, on the lid of which the stars defile in grooves, 
 a few leagues from us. The Bible, similarly, is more 
 beautiful when we are able to see there echeloned 
 on a canvas a thousand years old, every aspiration, 
 eveiy sigh, every prayer, which the most perfervid 
 religious conscience has ever breathed, than when 
 we are obliged to look upon it as a book such as 
 never was known or written out, preserved, and 
 interpreted in defiance of all the ordinary rules 
 of the human mind. 
 
 But the mediaeval persecutions of Judaism had 
 produced their usual effect in such cases : they had 
 rendered people's minds narrow and suspicious. A 
 few years before, at Amsterdam, the unfortunate 
 Uriel Acosta had cruelly expiated his doubts, which 
 fanaticism regarded as culpable as avowed infidelity. 
 The boldness of young Spinoza was even more badly 
 received : he was anathematized, and he was subjected 
 to an exconnnunication which lie did not deserve. 
 This latter, gentlemen, is a very old story. Religious 
 
52 SPINOZA. 
 
 communities, beneficent cradles of so much that is 
 serious and virtuous, cannot permit of anything which 
 is not exclusively embraced within their own bounds : 
 they claim the right to imprison for ever the life 
 which they have in the beginning taken under their 
 wing ; they treat as apostacy the legitimate emanci- 
 pation of the spirit which seeks to soar by itself. It 
 calls to mind the story of the egg accusing the bird 
 which has escaped from it of ingratitude. The egg is 
 necessary up to a certain point. Then it becomes an 
 obstacle : it must be broken. It is indeed marvellous 
 that Erasmus of Rotterdam should have found him- 
 self cramped in his cell ; that Luther did not prefer 
 his monastic vows to the vows much more holy that 
 all men have contracted, by the very fact of his 
 being, towards the truth ! This is a case where, had 
 Erasmus persisted in his monastic routine, or Luther 
 continued to distribute patents of indulgence, they 
 would have deserved to be called apostates. Spinoza 
 was the greatest of modern Jews, and Judaism exiled 
 him. Nothing could be more simple : it had to be ; 
 it always will be. Finite symbols, prisons of infinite 
 spirit, protest eternally against the efforts of idealism 
 to enlarge them. The spirit, on its part, struggles 
 eternally to have more air and light. It is eighteen 
 hundred and fifty years ago since Judaism denounced 
 as a traitor him who would have made an unexampled 
 fortune for the maxims of the synagogue. And how 
 many times has not the Christian Church expelled 
 from its bosom those who would have done her the 
 most honour ? In such cases, gentlemen, we have 
 done our duty when we preserve a pious memory for 
 the education we have received in our infancy. Let 
 the old Churches accuse as much as they please him 
 who has quitted them : they will not succeed in 
 extorting from us any other sentiment than that of 
 gratitude ; for, after all, the harm they can do us is 
 as notliing compared to the good they do us. 
 
SPINOZA. 53 
 
 II. 
 
 Behold, then, the excommunicated of the synagogue 
 of Amsterdam compelled to erect for himself a spiritual 
 abode outside the house which would no more of 
 him ! He had the greatest sympathy with Christi- 
 anit}'' ; but he dreaded all chains ; he did not embrace 
 it. Descartes had just refreshed philosophy by his 
 firm and sober rationalism. Descartes was his 
 master ; he took up problems at the point where 
 that great genius had left them ; he perceived 
 that his theology, through fear of the Sorbonne, 
 had always been somewhat parched. Oldenburg, 
 asking him one day what fault he had to find with 
 the philosophy of Descartes and Bacon, Spinoza an- 
 swered that the principal fault he had to find was 
 that they had not sufficiently consideied the First 
 Cause. Perhaps his reminiscences of Jewish theology 
 — that ancient wisdom of the Jews before which he 
 frequently bowed — suggested to him in respect 
 thereof loftier views and more ambitious aspirations. 
 The ideas, not only of the commonalty, but even of 
 those of thinking men on the divinity, appeared to 
 him as insufficient. He perceived clearly that we 
 could not set bounds to the infinite, that divinity was 
 either everything or nothing, that if the divine was 
 anything, it must be all-pervading. For twenty years 
 he meditated upon these problems without ever 
 drawing away his thoughts from them for a moment. 
 Our dislike for abstract formulas and systems does 
 not permit us to-day to accept in an absolute manner 
 propositions which are believed to embrace the secrets 
 of the infinite. To Spinoza, as to Descartes, the 
 universe was only extension and thought : chemistry 
 and physiology were lacking to that great school, too 
 exclusively confined to geometry and mechanics. A 
 stranger to the ideas of life and to the notions of the 
 
54 SPINOZA. 
 
 constitution of the body which chemistry has revealed, 
 too much attached yet to the scholastic expressions 
 substance and attrihute, Spinoza had not attained to 
 that living and fruitful life which natural science and 
 history has shown us presiding in boundless space 
 over a development growing more and more intense ; 
 still, apart from a certain boldness in the expression, 
 what a grandeur there is in that inflexible geometrical 
 deduction resulting in the super-eminent conclusion — 
 " It is of the nature of substance to develop itself 
 necessarily through an infinity of infinite attributes, 
 infinitely modified ! " God is thus absolute thought, 
 the universal consciousness itself. The ideal exists, 
 nay, it is existence ; all else is but vain appearance. 
 Bodies and souls are pure modes, whose substance is 
 God ; it is only the modes which fall into decay ; 
 substance reaches into eternity. According to this, 
 God is not proved ; his existence results solely from 
 his idea: everything involves and presupposes him. 
 God is the condition of all existence, of all thought. 
 If God did not exist, thought could conceive more 
 than nature could supply, which is a contradiction. 
 
 Spinoza did not clearly perceive universal progress. 
 The world, as he conceived it, seems in some sort 
 crystallized in matter, which is indestructible exten- 
 sion in a soul, which, again, is immutable thought. The 
 sentiment of God extinguishes in him the sentiment 
 of man. When confronted with the infinite, he could 
 not sufficiently discern what was concealed of the 
 divine in its relative manifestations ; but he saw 
 clearer than anyone the eternal identity which served 
 as the basis of all transitory evolutions. Every- 
 thing which was limited seemed to him frivolous 
 and unworthy the attention of a philosopher. With 
 a bound he attained the lofty snow-clad summits, 
 without once regarding the richly blooming life 
 which the mountain sides gave forth. From this 
 eminence, where other lungs than his must pant, he 
 
SPINOZA. 55 
 
 surveys, he enjoys. There he breathes as freely as 
 do the generality of men in the milder temperate 
 regions. What he required was the eager, strong, 
 and bracing air of the glacier. He did not ask any- 
 one to follow him there. He was like Moses, to whom 
 was revealed on the mountain secrets unknown to the 
 people. But I would have you believe, gentlemen, he 
 was the seer of his age ; he was in his time the one 
 who discerned God most clearly. 
 
 in. 
 
 It is easy to believe that, isolated on those snowy 
 peaks, his mind must have been falsified in regard to 
 human affairs — an optimist, a supercilious sceptic. 
 Nothing of the kind, gentlemen. He was constantly 
 engaged in applying his principles to human societies. 
 The pessimism of Hobbes and the dreams of Thomas 
 More were equally repugnant to him. One-half at 
 least of the Theologico-Politico Treatise, published in 
 1 G70, might be reprinted to-day without losing any 
 of its pertinence. Listen to this admirable title — 
 Tractatus Tkeologico-politicus, contienens disserta- 
 tiones aliquot qiiibiis ostenditiir lihertatim pJdloso- 
 phandi non tantuon salva pietatce repitblicce pace 
 posse concedi sed eavidem nisi cum passe repiLhlicce 
 ipsaque pietate coli non posse. For centuries it was 
 imagined that society rested on metaphysical dogmas. 
 Spinoza clearly saw that the dogmas claimed to be 
 necessary for humanity could not escape discussion ; 
 that revelation itself, if there be one, which, in order 
 to reach us, traverses the faculties of the human 
 mind, could no more than anything else escape 
 criticism. I should like to quote to you in its entirety 
 that twentieth chapter in which our great publicist 
 establislies, with magisterial authority, this dogma, 
 new then, and contested still, wdiich is called liberty 
 
56 SPINOZA. 
 
 of conscience. '" The ultimate design of the State," 
 he said, "is not to dominate men, to restrain them 1337- 
 fear, to make them subject to the will of others, but, 
 on the contrary, to permit everyone as far as is possible 
 to live in security. That is to say, to preserve intact 
 the natural right which is his, to live without being 
 harmed himself or doing harm to others. No, I say, 
 the design of the State is not to transform men into 
 animals or automata from reasonable beings ; its 
 design is so to arrange matters that the citizens may 
 develop their bodies and minds in security, and to 
 make free use of their reason. The true ' design of 
 the State, then, is liberty. . . . Whoever would 
 respect the rights of the sovereign ought never to act 
 in opposition to his decrees ; but each has a right to 
 think as he pleases and to say what he thinks, pro- 
 vided that he limits himself to speaking and to teaching 
 in the name of pure reason, and that he does not 
 attempt, in his private capacity, to introduce inno- 
 vations into the State. For example, a citizen 
 demonstrates that a certain law is repugnant to sound 
 reason, and, believing this, he thinks it ought to be 
 abrogated. If he submits his opinion to the judgment 
 of the sovereign, to which alone it belongs to establish 
 and to abolish laws, and if, in the meantime, he does 
 nothing contrary to law, he certainly deserves well of 
 the State as beino' a 2food citizen. . . 
 
 " Let us admit that it is possible to stifle the liberty 
 of men and to impose on them a yoke, to the point 
 that they dare not even murmur, however feebly, 
 without the consent of the sovereign, never, it 
 is certain, can anyone hinder them from thinking 
 according to their own free will. What follows 
 hence ? It is that men will think one way and speak 
 another ; that, consequently, good faith, so essential 
 a virtue to a State, becomes corrupted ; that 
 adulation, so detestable, and perfidy shall be held in 
 honour, bringing in their train a decadence of all 
 
SPINOZA. 57 
 
 good and sound habitudes. . . . What can be 
 more fatal to a State than to exile, as malcontents, 
 honest citizens, simply because they do not hold the 
 opinions of the multitude, and because they are 
 ignorant of the art of dissembling ! What can be 
 more fatal to a State than to treat as enemies and to 
 put to death men who have committed no other 
 crime than that of thinking independently ! Behold, 
 then, the scaffold, the dread of tlie bad man, ^vhich 
 now becomes the glorious theatre where tolerance and 
 virtue blaze forth in all their splendour, and covers 
 publicly with opprobium the sovereign majesty ! 
 Assuredly there is but one thing which that spectacle 
 can teach us, and that is to imitate these noble 
 martyrs, or, if we fear death, to become the abject 
 flatterers of the powerful. Nothing hence can be so 
 perilous as to relegate and submit to divine right 
 things which are purely speculative, and to impose 
 laws upon opinions which are, or at least ought to be, 
 subject to discussion among men. If the right of the 
 State were limited to repressing acts, and speech were 
 allowed impunity, controversies would not turn so 
 often into seditions." 
 
 Wiser than so many men who claim to be practical, 
 our speculator sees clearly that the only governments 
 that are durable are reasonable governments, and 
 that the only reasonable governments are tolerant 
 governments. Far from absorbing the individual 
 in the State, he creates for the latter solid guarantees 
 against the omnipotence of the State. He is not 
 a revolutionist ; he is a moderate ; he transforms ; 
 he explains, but he does not destroy. His God is 
 not one of those who are pleased with ceremonies, 
 sacrifices, the odour of incense, and yet Spinoza 
 intends in no way to ruin religion ; he has for 
 Christianity a profound veneration, a tender^ and 
 sincere respect. The supernatural has no meaning 
 in his doctrine ; according to his principles, anything 
 
58 SPINOZA. 
 
 beyond nature is beyond being, and, consequently, 
 is inconceivable ; the revelaUurs, the prophets, were 
 men like any others. " It is not to think," he said ; 
 " it is to dream, to believe that prophets had human 
 bodies, and had not human souls, and, consequently, 
 that their science and their sensations were of a 
 different nature from ours. Prophecy was not the 
 appanage of one people only, the Jewish people. 
 The distinction of Son of God was not the privilege 
 of one man alone. ... In order to exhibit clearly 
 my idea, I say, it is not absolutely necessary for 
 salvation to know the Christ according to the 
 flesh ; but it is quite otherwise, if one speaks of 
 the Son of God ; that is to say, of that eternal 
 wisdom of God which is manifested in everything, 
 and principally in the human soul, and still more 
 than anywhere else in Jesus Christ. Without this 
 wisdom no one can attain to the beatific state, since 
 it alone teaches us what is true or false, good or 
 evil. As for that which certain Churches enjoin . . . 
 I have expressly given notice that I do not know 
 what they mean, and, to speak plainly, I must avow 
 that they seem to me to hold the same language 
 as one who would pretend that a circle has put on the 
 nature of a square." As for Schleiermacher ; did he 
 speak differently ? and Spinoza, who, with Richard 
 Simon, was the founder of the Biblical exegesis 
 of the Old Testament, was he not, in like manner, 
 the precursor of the liberal theologians, who, in 
 our days, have demonstrated that Christianity is able 
 to preserve all its eclat without the supernatural ? 
 His letters to Oldenburg on the resurrection of Jesus 
 Christ, and in regard to the manner in which Saint 
 Paul understood it, one hundred and fifty j^ears 
 later, would have passed for the manifesto of a whole 
 school of critical theology. 
 
 In Spinoza's eyes, it matters little whether the 
 mysUres are understood in this or that manner 
 
St^INOZA. 59 
 
 provided that they are accepted in a pious sense ; 
 religion has but one aim, piety ; what one must ask 
 of it is not metaphysics, it is practical directions. 
 At bottom, there 'is but one thing in the Scrip- 
 tures, as there is in all revelation, " Love your 
 neighbour," The fruit of religion is beatitude ; each 
 one participates in it in a manner proportioned to his 
 capacity and to his efforts. The souls which reason 
 governs, philosophic souls, which even in this world 
 live in God, are secure against death ; what death 
 takes away from them is of no value ; but feeble 
 or passionate souls must perish almost entirely, 
 and death, instead of being for them a simple 
 accident, reaches to the ver}^ foundation of their 
 being. The ignorant man, who permits himself to 
 be guided, to be blinded by passion, is agitated in a 
 thousand divers senses by exterior causes, and never 
 enjoys true peace of soul ; for him to cease to 
 suff'er is to cease to exist. Contrariwise, the soul of 
 the wise man can scarcely be troubled. Possessing, 
 by a sort of eternal necessity, the consciousness of 
 himself, and of God and of things, he never ceases 
 to be, while he always preserves true peace of mind. 
 
 Spinoza could not support the idea that his tenta- 
 tive should be considered as irreligious or subversive. 
 The timid Oldenburg could not conceal from him that 
 some of his opinions appeared to certain readers as 
 tending to the subversion of piety. " Everything 
 which accords with reason," responded Spinoza, " I 
 perfectly believe is useful to the practice of virtue." 
 The pretended superiority of grossly positive concep- 
 tions on the question of religion and a future life 
 found him intractable. " Is it rejecting all religion, 
 I ask," said he, " to acknowledge God as the supreme 
 good, and to think, because of this title, that we 
 must love him with a free soul ? To maintain that 
 all our happiness, that the highest liberty consists in 
 this love, that the prize of virtue is virtue itself, and 
 
60 SPINOZA. 
 
 that a })lind and impotent soul finds its punishment 
 
 in its blindness — is that forswearing religion ? " 
 
 Behind such attacks he perceived sentiment of the 
 
 basest description. According to him, he who feels 
 
 irritated against disinterested religion showed that 
 
 reason and virtue had no attraction for him, and that, 
 
 if he were not restrained by fear, he would take 
 
 pleasure in following the dictates of his passions. 
 
 " Thus, then," he adds, " it is only the abstention from 
 
 evil and the obeying of the divine commands that 
 
 such a one, just as a slave would, regrets, and as a 
 
 reward for this slavery he expects of God recompenses 
 
 which are infinitely more valuable in his eyes than 
 
 the divine love. The more aversion he feels, and the 
 
 farther he is removed from the good, the more he 
 
 hopes to be recompensed ; and he figures to himself 
 
 that tliose who are not restrained by the same fear 
 
 just do exactly as he would : that is to say, live 
 
 outside the law ! " Spinoza concluded that this 
 
 method of gaining heaven, by doing that which was 
 
 requisite to merit hell, was opposed to reason, and 
 
 that there was something absurd in pretending to 
 
 please God by confessing to him that if one were not 
 
 afraid of him one should not love him. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He perceived the danger of interfering with beliefs 
 in which people approve of these subtle distinctions. 
 Gaute was a favourite maxim of his. Being made 
 aware by his friends that the production of his Ethics 
 would cause a great outcry, he did not permit it 
 to be published during his lifetime. He was destitute 
 of literary vanity, and never courted celebrity — for 
 the very sufficient reason, indeed, that he was no 
 doubt sure these would come to him unsought for. 
 He was perfectly happy : he said so, and we can take 
 
SPINOZA. 61 
 
 his word. Nay, he did more than this : he has left 
 us his secret. Listen, gentlemen, listen to the receipt 
 of this " prince of atheists " in order to find happiness. 
 It is the love of God. To love God is to live in God. 
 Life in God is the best and the most perfect, because 
 it is the most reasonable, the most happy, the most 
 abundant ; in a word, because it gives a fuller exist- 
 ence than any other life, and satisfies more completely 
 the innate desire which constitutes our very essence. 
 His everyday life was governed entirely by these 
 maxims. That life was a model of good sense and 
 judgment. It was regulated with that skill peculiar 
 to the wise man, who only wishes for one thing, and 
 always succeeds in obtaining it. No politician ever 
 adapted his means so well in order to reach an end. 
 Less circumspect, he might have incurred the fate of 
 the unfortunate Acosta. Seeing that he loved truth 
 for its own sake, he was indifferent to the injuries 
 which the speaking of it might bring upon him. 
 He never answered any attacks of which he was the 
 object. He never attacked anybody. " It is contrary 
 to my habits," he used to say, " to seek out the errors 
 into which others have fallen." If he had had the 
 desire to become an office-holder, his life no doubt 
 would have been embittered by persecutions and 
 misfortunes. He was nothing, and wished to be 
 nothing. Ama nesciri was his motto, just as it was 
 that of the author of the Tmitatlon. He sacrificed 
 everything to peace of mind, and in this he was not 
 selfish, for his meditations are important to us all. 
 More than once he declined the wealth which came to 
 him, accepting only what his needs required. The 
 King of France offered him a pension : he thanked 
 him for his offer. The Elector Palatine offered him a 
 chair at Heidelberg, " You shall have perfect liberty," 
 he was told, " for the Prince is satisfied that you 
 would not abu.se this privilege by disturbing the 
 established religion." "I do not quite understand," 
 
62 SPINOZA. 
 
 he replied, " what are the limits it would be necessary 
 to set upon the liberty of philosophising which you 
 are so kind to offer me under the one condition of 
 not disturbing the established religion ; and, again, 
 seeing that I should have to give instruction to youth, 
 it would hinder me from advancing myself in 
 philosophy. I have succeeded in procuring a tranquil 
 life, but only on the condition of renouncing all kinds 
 of public instruction." He felt that his duty was to 
 think. He was indeed thinking for humanity, the 
 ideas of which he anticipated by more than a hundred 
 years. 
 
 He carried this same instinctive ability into all the 
 relations of life. He felt that public opinion never 
 allowed a man to make two bold attempts at one 
 time ; and then, being a freethinker, he considered 
 himself bound to live the life of a saint. But what 
 am I saying ? Was not this gentle and pure life the 
 direct expression of his peaceable and amiable con- 
 science ? In those days the atheist was represented 
 as a blackguard armed with daggers. Spinoza was 
 throughout his life humble, gentle and pious. His 
 adversaries had the naivete to object to this. 
 They would have had that he had lived up to the 
 established type, and that, after leading the life of a 
 devil incarnate, he should die in despair. Spinoza 
 laughed at this singular demand, and refused, even to 
 please his enemies, to change his mode of life. 
 
 He had excellent friends, was courageous when 
 it was necessary to be so, and protested against 
 popular uprisings when they appeared to him to 
 be uncalled for. Repeated disillusions did not pre- 
 vent him from remaining faithful to the republican 
 party ; the liberalism of his opinions was never at 
 the mercy of events. That which redounded to 
 his honour more than anything, perhaps, was the 
 esteem and sincere affection of the plain people 
 amongst whom he lived. Gentlemen, the esteem 
 
SPINOZA. 63 
 
 of the simple is beyond price; their jaJgiiient 
 ahiiost always is that of God. To the good Van 
 Spycks he was evidently the ideal of a perfect 
 lodger. " No one could give less trouble," they 
 told Colerus, some years after his death. " When at 
 home in his lodgings, he was no inconvenience to 
 anyone ; he spent the best part of his time quietly 
 in his room. When he found himself fatigued by 
 too close application to study, he would come 
 downstairs and speak to those whom he found in 
 the lodgings, about everything which could serve as 
 the subject of ordinary conversation, even about 
 trifles," Indeed, a more affable neighbour never 
 lived. He used to converse often with his hostess, 
 particularly during the time of her confinements, 
 and with others of the lodgers when any aifliction 
 or malady had fallen upon them. He would advise 
 the children to attend divine service, and, when 
 returned thence, he would question them as to 
 what they had heard. He almost always strongly 
 backed up what the preacher had said. One of 
 the persons he esteemed the most was Pastor 
 Cordes, an excellent man who could explain the 
 Scriptures well. He used sometimes to go and 
 hear him, and engaged his host never to miss 
 the preaching of so able a man. One day his host- 
 ess asked him whether she could be saved by the 
 religion she professed. " Your religion is good," 
 he answered ; " you ought not to seek for another, 
 nor doubt that you will be saved by it, provided 
 that, in addition to your piety, you lead at the 
 same time a quiet and peaceable life." 
 
 He was sober and economical to a deo'ree. His 
 daily wants were supplied by manual occupation 
 tliat of poHsliing spectacle glasses, in whicli he be- 
 came very skilled. The \'an der Spycks handed 
 over to Colerus some small scraps of paper on whicli 
 he had jotted down liis expenses ; they amounted 
 
64 SPINOZA. 
 
 on an average to about twopence-halfpenny a day. 
 He made a careful adjustment of his accounts 
 every quarter, so that his expenditure might be 
 neither more nor less than his means. His dress 
 was plain, almost shabby ; but a quiet serenity 
 pervaded his whole manner. It was clear that he 
 had hit upon a method which afforded him perfect 
 contentment. 
 
 He was never either depressed or gay, while 
 the equableness of his temper was marvellous to 
 behold. He perhaps felt a little sad the day on 
 which the daughter of his professor, Van den 
 Ende, preferred Kerkering to him, but I imagine 
 he quickly consoled himself. "Reason is my enjoy- 
 ment," he used to say ; " and the goal to which I 
 aspire in this life is joy and serenity." It was dis- 
 agreeable to him to hear anyone commend sadness. 
 " It is superstition, " he said, " which sets up sad- 
 ness as a good, and everything which produces joy 
 as an evil. God would be an impious being (envieux) 
 if he rejoiced in my weakness and in the pain 
 which I suffer. In point of fact, in proportion as 
 we experience a greater joy, so do we attain to a 
 higher perfection, and partake more of the divine 
 nature. . . . Joy, then, can never be an evil, so 
 long as it is regulated by the law of oar actual 
 utility. The virtuous life is not a sad and gloomy 
 life, a life of privations and austerities. How 
 could the divinity take pleasure in the spectacle 
 of my weakness, or impute to my credit the tears, 
 sobs and terrors, all signs of a feeble soul ? Yes," 
 he added vigorously, "it is the part of a wise man 
 to use the things of this life and to enjoy them as 
 much as possible, to recruit our forces with a 
 modicum of agreeable food, to charm our senses 
 with the odour and delightful verdure of flowers, 
 to adorn even our dress, to enjoy music, games, 
 spectacles, and every manner of entertainment that 
 
SinNOZA. 65 
 
 one may give oneself up to without doing injury to 
 oneself." People talk incessantly of repentance, of 
 humility, of death, but repentance is not a virtue, 
 it is the consequence of vv^eakness ; no more is 
 humility, inasmuch as it creates in man the idea 
 of his inferiority. As to the thought of death, 
 it is the daughter of fear, and it is in feeble souls 
 that it elects to dwell." Again, of all things in 
 the world a free man thinks the least about, is 
 death. Wisdom is meditation, not on death, but 
 on life. 
 
 V. 
 
 Since the days of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, w^e 
 have never witnessed a life so profoundly penetrated 
 by the sentiment of the divine. In the twelfth, 
 thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, rationalistic philo- 
 sophy boasted some very great men, but she had no 
 saints. Amongst the greatest leaders of Italian free- 
 thought, there w^as often something hard and repulsive 
 blended in their characters. Religion had been alto- 
 gether absent from those lives in revolt, not less against 
 human than against divine laws, the last example of 
 which was that of poor Vanini. In the present in- 
 stance it is religion which produces freethought, ifc 
 being a part of piety. Religion, in Spinoza's idea is 
 not a part of life, it is life itself. What is of consc- 
 (juence is not to be in possession of some more or less 
 correct metaphysical phrase ; it is to give to life a fixed 
 pole, a supreme direction, an ideal. 
 
 It was in this way, gentlemen, that your illustrious 
 countryman raised a standard which is capable even 
 at the present day of sheltering all who think and all 
 who feel nobly. Yes ; religion is eternal, it responds 
 to the most imperious wants of the most primitive as 
 well as most cultivated man ; it will only perish with 
 
 £ 
 
66 SPINOZA. 
 
 humanity itself, or rather, its disappearance would b6 
 the proof that degenerated humanity was ready to 
 return to the animality whence it sprung. And yet, 
 no dogma, no worship, no formula is capable in our 
 days of annihilating the religious sentiment. Here, 
 two apparently contradictory assertions must be main- 
 tained in presence of one another. Evil to him who 
 pretends that religion is a thing of the past ! Evil to 
 him who imagines that he can succeed in giving to 
 old symbols the force which they had when they were 
 sustained by the unassailable dogmatism of former 
 days ! We must have done with this dogmatism, we 
 must set aside those fixed beliefs ; sources not only of 
 so much strife and heartburning, but also principles of 
 such ardent convictions ; we must renounce the belief 
 that it is incumbent on us to maintain in others 
 beliefs which we no longer share. Spinoza had just 
 cause to have a terror of hypocrisy ; hypocrisy is 
 supple and dishonest, and, above all, hypocrisy is of no 
 utility. But, in truth, who is deceived in this ? The 
 persistence of the higher classes in ostentatiously 
 parading before the eyes of the uncultivated classes 
 the religious forms of the past, can only have one 
 effect, and that is to ruin their authority in days 
 of crises, when it is important that the people 
 should still believein the judgment and virtue of some 
 one. 
 
 All honour, then, to Spinoza, who dared to say, 
 *•' Reason before everything ! " Reason can never run 
 counter to the true interests of humanity. But to 
 those who are carried away by ill-considered discon- 
 tent, let us recall to them that Spinoza never under- 
 stood religious revolution but as a change of formulae. 
 In his view the essence remained, though called by 
 another name. If, on the other hand, he energetically 
 resisted the theocratic power of the clergy, conceived 
 as distinct from civil society, and the tendency of the 
 State to occupy itself with metaphysical subtleties, on 
 
spmozA. 6? 
 
 the other hand, he never repudiated either the State 
 or Religion. He wished the State to be tolerant, and 
 Religion to be free. We can desire nothing more than 
 this. We ought not to impose beliefs on others which 
 we do not ourselves entertain. When the believers of 
 other days constituted themselves persecutors, they 
 were in that tyrannical, but they were at least con- 
 sistent ; contrariwise, if we were to do as they did, it 
 would be altogether absurd. Our religion is a senti- 
 ment susceptible of being dressed up in numerous 
 forms. These forms are far from being of the same 
 value ; nevertheless, there is not one of them which pos- 
 sesses either strength or authority to expel the other's 
 Liberty. This was the last word of the religious 
 polity of Spinoza. Let it also be the last word of 
 ours. It is the most honest course ; nay, it is perhaps 
 at the same time the most efficacious, and the most 
 sure for the progress of civilisation. 
 
 It is no doubt true that humanity advances in the 
 progress of civilisation with most unequal strides. 
 The gruff and violent Esau grows impatient with the 
 delays occasioned by the short steps of the Hock of 
 Jacob. Let us allow to everything its proper time. 
 Let us on no account permit naivete and ignorance to 
 interfere with the free movements of mind ; but 
 neither let us be troubled at the slow development of 
 more sluggish intellects. Liberty to be absurd, in the 
 case of some, is the condition of liberty of judo-ment 
 in the case of others. Services rendered to the human 
 mind by violence are not services at all. There is 
 nothing more simple than that those who cannot take 
 truth seriously should practise constraint in order to 
 obtain exterior submission, But with us who believe 
 that truth is something real, and pre-eminently respect- 
 able, how can we dream of obtaining by force an 
 adhesion which is only to be prized when it is the 
 fruit of free conviction ? We no longer admit sacra- 
 mental formulas, operating through their own force, 
 
68 smNo^A. 
 
 independently of the judgment of him to whom they 
 are applied. To us a belief has no value when it has 
 not been achieved by the reflection of the individual ; 
 and not only that, but when it has been assimilated 
 as well. Conviction effected by authority is as utterly 
 nonsensical as love secured by force, or sympathy 
 extorted by order. Gentlemen, let us tell ourselves 
 not only that we always defend our liberty against 
 those who would seek to deprive us of it, but also, 
 if need be, to defend the liberty of those who have 
 not always respected ours, and who, probably, if 
 they became our masters, would not respect it 
 again. 
 
 It is Holland, gentlemen, which, more than two 
 hundred years ago, has had the glory of demonstrating 
 the possibility of these theories, and of realising them. 
 *' Must it be proved," says Spinoza, " that this liberty 
 of thought does not give rise to any serious inconveni- 
 ences, and that it suffices to restrain men, openly 
 divided in their opinions, from reciprocally respecting 
 each other's rights ? Instances abound, and we have 
 not to go very far to seek for them. Let us cite the 
 case of the city of Amsterdam, whose important 
 growth, an object of admiration for other nations, is 
 but the fruit of this liberty. In the bosom of that 
 flourishing republic, that eminent city, men of all 
 nations and of all sects live together in the most per- 
 fect concord . . . and there is no sect so odious, whose 
 votaries, provided they do not trench upon the rights 
 of others, do not find there public aid and pro- 
 tection, in presence of the magistrates." Descartes was 
 of the same opinion when he came to seek, in your 
 country, the tranquillity necessary for his meditations. 
 Again, thanks to that noble privilege of a free country, 
 which your forefathers gloriously succeeded in main- 
 taining against all foes, your Holland became the 
 asylum in which the human mind, sheltered from all 
 the tyrannies spread over Europe, found air to breathe 
 
SPINOZA. 69 
 
 a public to understand it, organs to multiply its voice, 
 elsewhere orao-o-ed. 
 
 Great, assuredly, are the wounds of our century, and 
 great are its perplexities. It is never safe to raise so 
 many problems at one and the same time, before we 
 possess the elements for resolving them. It was not 
 we who shattered that crystal paradise, with its re- 
 llections of silver and azure, which has ravished and 
 consoled the hearts of so many people. Nevertheless, 
 it is in pieces ; what is broken is broken, and no serious 
 mind will ever undertake the childish task of brino-ino- 
 back the past ignorance which has been dispelled, or 
 of restoring the vanished illusions. People in large 
 towns have almost everywhere lost faith in the super- 
 natural. Even if we sacrificed our own convictions and 
 our sincerity, we could not induce them to return to it. 
 But the personal supernatural, understood differently 
 in other times, is not the ideal. The origin of the 
 supernatural is lost. The cause of the ideal has 
 suffered no reverse ; it never will. The ideal is the 
 soul of the world, the permanent God, the primordial, 
 efficient and final cause of this universe. In this we 
 have the basis of eternal religion. In order to worship 
 God, we have no need, any more than Spinoza had, of 
 miracles nor of intercessory prayers. As long as there 
 is fibre in the human heart, which shall vibrate to the 
 touches of that which is just and honest, so long will 
 the soul, instinctively perfect, prefer virtue to life. So 
 long as there are friends of truth ready to sacrifice 
 their repose to science, trusty friends devoted to the 
 useful and holy work of mercy, a heart of woman- 
 hood to love what is good, beautiful and pure, artists 
 to make their tones and colours inspired accents, 
 — gentlemen, God lives in us. It is only when selfish- 
 ness, baseness of heart, narrowness of mind, indifference 
 to science, contempt foi* the rights of man, forgetful- 
 ness of what is great and noble, sliall pervade tlie 
 world : I say, it is then that (koi\ shall no longer bo in 
 
70 SPINOZA. 
 
 humanity. But let us put such thoughts far away 
 from us. Our aspirations, our sufferings, our faults, 
 even, and our boldnesses are the proof that the God 
 lives in us. Yes, human life still retains something 
 of the divine. Our apparent negations are frequently 
 nothing but the scruples of timorous minds which 
 fear to overstep what they know. These are a 
 more superior homage to the divinity than the 
 hypocritical adoration of the formalist. God is 
 still in us. Gentlemen, God is in us ! Est Dens in 
 nobis. 
 
 Let us all bow together, gentlemen, before the great 
 and illustrious thinker, who, better than any one, two 
 hundred years ago, proved by the example of his life 
 and by the might (youthful even to-day) of his 
 labours, that there are in such thoughts both spiritual 
 joy and holy unction. Let us, with Schleiermacher, 
 render the best homage of which we are capable to 
 the manes of the holy and disowned Spinoza. " He 
 was penetrated with the sublime spirit of the world ; 
 the Infinite was his beginning and his end ; the 
 Universal his single and eternal love. Living in 
 saintly innocence and profound humility, he saw 
 himself reflected in the eternal world, and he felt that 
 the world was to him also a mirror worthy of love ; 
 his will was full of religion and full of the Holy 
 Spirit. Alone and without equal, so he must appear 
 to us a master in his art, but raised high above the 
 worldly, without disciples and without the rights of 
 citizenship anywhere. 
 
 This burgess right, gentlemen, we are about to 
 confer on him. Your monument will be the link 
 which unites his genius to the earth. His soul shall 
 hover, like a good tutelary geni over this place where 
 he accomplished his rapid journey among men. Woe 
 be to him who in passing shall dare to injure that 
 sweet and pensive figure ! He would be punished, 
 \\Yq as all vulgar hearts would, by his own vulgarity. 
 
SPINOZA. 71 
 
 and by his incapacity to comprehend the divine. 
 Here, from his pedestal of granite, he shall teach to 
 everyone the path to happiness which he discovered, 
 and, in ages to come, the cultivated man who passes 
 along the Pavilioengragt shall say to himself — " It 
 is here, perhaps, that God has been seen the most 
 near." 
 
 Let the recollection of this ceremony be to every- 
 one of us a consolation and a dear communion. 
 
THE TKIAL OF GALILEO. 
 
 The trial of Galileo was a decisive moment in the 
 history of the human mind. It was at this moment 
 that scholastic science (a silly compound of the Bible 
 and Aristotle, misrepresenting both) found itself con- 
 fronted with exact science, proving itself by itself 
 The old pedantry faced the ordeal boldly. It declared 
 the system of the world, which has been proved to 
 be the very truth, false and contrary to the faith. 
 Religious interests, as usual, succeeded in complicat- 
 ing the question. Discarding sophisms, the following 
 is as exact an account as may be of how things came 
 to pass. 
 
 In 1616, Rome had expressly condemned the system 
 of Copernicus, declaring it to be " philosophically 
 absurd as well as heretical." Galileo had been en- 
 joined, in the name of the Inquisition, to submit to 
 this decree. Galileo submitted in appearance ; but, 
 with the subtle intellectual habitude which the 
 religious tyranny of the times induced, and up to a 
 certain point excused, he attempted to evade the 
 difficulty by setting forth the system of Copernicus 
 as being at least an hypothesis explicative of the facts. 
 In order to this, he made use of the form which 
 seemed to him the least compromising, namely, that 
 of a dialogue between a peripatetic and two more or 
 less avowed partisans of the new ideas on the systems 
 of the world. The peripatetic is, as a matter of 
 course, defeated at every turn ; nevertheless, he is 
 not made to play a ridiculous part. This is of import- 
 
THE TRIAL OF GALILEO. 73 
 
 ance ; for it appears he was not afraid to impute to 
 a sacrificed character arguments which had really 
 proceeded from the mouth of the reigning pope, 
 Urban VIII., as zealous a partisan of Aristotle in 
 philosophy as of his own authority in matters of faith. 
 
 The dialogue was published with the permission of 
 the ecclesiastical censor. It was not until some time 
 after that people perceived the venom which it con- 
 tained. As soon as this was discovered, Galileo re- 
 ceived a mandate for his appearance at Rome. The 
 protection of the Grand Duke of Tuscany did not 
 suffice to have him dispense with that journey. He 
 had to set out in spite of his infirmities ; and he 
 arrived at Rome on the 13th February, 1633, where 
 the palace of the Florentine ambassador was assigned 
 as his first prison. 
 
 The case was prosecuted leisurely. On the 12th of 
 April, Galileo was incarcerated in the Holy Office, 
 but he was not put into the dungeon ; out of regard 
 for the Grand Duke, he was treated with kindness. 
 On the 30th of April he returned to the palace of the 
 ambassador, in order to recover from an illness. On 
 the evening of the 20th of June he was again sent 
 for to the Holy Office. He repaired thither on the 
 morning of the 21st. On this day the official inquiry 
 took place. In presence of the Inquisition, Galileo 
 made no difficulty about renouncing the system of 
 Copernicus. He resisted only on the question of 
 intention. His adversaries, deeply hurt by the 
 Dialogue on the systems of the world, reproached 
 him for having made in that work an indirect apology 
 for heretical, opinions. He obstinately denied that he 
 had had that intention, and maintained that he had 
 wished only to set forth the arguments pro and con, 
 in order to prove to strangers that if, at Rome, theo- 
 logical motives required the condemnation of the 
 Copernican system, it was not because she was ignorant 
 of the reasons which co^ild be (idduced in favour of 
 
74 THE TRIAL OF GALILEO. 
 
 the system. This was subtile ; but all inquiries on 
 things which relate only to conscience necessarily 
 imply subtilty. 
 
 Was he subjected to the torture ? The silence of 
 Galileo on that point, the absence of all details on the 
 subject in the correspondence of Niccolini, the ambas- 
 sador of the Grand Duke of Tuscany at Rome, have 
 been invoked as proofs in the negative, and are 
 indeed considerations of the greatest importance. It 
 must be remembered, however, that the first thing 
 which was demanded of Galileo, in conformity with 
 the customs of the Inquisition, was to promise that he 
 would not reveal anything which should take place 
 between him and the redoubtable tribunal. To the 
 end he adhered to this promise with a species of 
 terror. The reports of the trial could alone solve the 
 question ; but a veritable fatality has deprived the 
 friends of sincere history of the publication of these 
 documents. They were brought to Paris, from the 
 archives of the Inquisition, where they had been care- 
 fully concealed, in 1809. Somebody undertook to 
 publish them, together with a French translation. 
 The translation had even advanced to some consider- 
 able extent when the Restoration supervened. The 
 pope reclaimed the documents ; but Louis XVIIL, out 
 of curiosity, retained them for some time in his study. 
 One day the packet disappeared, and was vainly 
 sought for in Paris in all the Government offices. 
 Rome never ceased reclaiming the papers until 1845, 
 when M. Rossi, it is said, promised their restitution, 
 on the condition that they should be published intact, 
 and they were restored to the hands of Pius IX. If 
 this statement is correct,^ it is matter of surprise that 
 a document so important should have been given 
 up at Paris without a careful copy being previously 
 made of it. In any case, the promise of publication, 
 if it was made, has indeed been badly kept. At the 
 ^ It is by M. Biot, Journal des Savants^ Jwly 1858^ 
 
THE TRIAL OF GALILEO. 75 
 
 preseut time no portion of the original legal docu- 
 ments is known, except a fragment of the French 
 translation, whicli was found in 1821 by M. Delambre. 
 Monsignor Marino Marini, who has written a work 
 on the subject, had all the papers before him ; but 
 he w^as careful not to give them in e.vtenso. He has 
 quoted the passages which suited his purpose. Now, 
 the system pursued at Rome in the publication of 
 historical documents is not of such a character as to 
 make us feel that Monsiguor Marini, in making a 
 choice, exercised a very strict impartiality. In general 
 Rome does not grant access to, nor permits the publica- 
 tion of documents, except under the implied condition 
 that one's object is to explain away papal history. 
 Almost all the historical documents which are pub- 
 lished at Rome are systematically incomplete. It is 
 believable that if Monsignor Marini found amongst 
 the papers of the trial statements contrary to the 
 thesis of Catholic apologists, he wnthheld them. The 
 acidity of tone which is noticeable in his Memoir, and 
 the haughty attitude which he imports into the dis- 
 cussion, are not reassuring. What would they not do 
 at Rome to avoid scandal (ad evitandum scandalum) ! 
 The indications to be drawn from contradictory pagi- 
 nations, in several instances, would of itself lead one 
 to believe that the manuscript had been mutilated 
 before it came into his hands. AVe are hence obliged 
 to read between the lines of the documents which 
 ^have been given to us, and to make out thence the 
 probable meaning of the portions cut out by the 
 scissors of interested persons. Now it must be owned 
 that among the published statements there are some 
 which appear to contradict the assertions of the 
 apologist, or at least give scope for reflection. 
 
 In a i'ragment of the interrogatory of the 21st of 
 June, published by Marini, Galileo is asked whether, 
 after the injunction placed upon him in IGIG, he did 
 Iiot continue to advocate the Oopernican idea. He 
 
76 THE TRIAL OF GALILEO. 
 
 answers in the negative. Some one then informs 
 him that they will use against him the opportune 
 remedies of the law in this respect, that is to say, the 
 torture : devenietur ad torturam, says a passage cited 
 by Marini. The threat of the torture is hence ex- 
 press. Then the report adds that, seeing nothing 
 further can be extorted from him, remissns est in 
 locum suiim (let him be taken back whence he came). 
 What took place next, and what is that locus suns 
 whence he was sent back? According to Marini, it 
 was the palace of tlie Tuscan ambassador. But this 
 is false, as M. Biot has aptly pointed out, for a letter 
 from the said ambassador, dated the 26th June, 
 asserts that Galileo was retained at the Holy Office 
 during the whole of the time which elapsed between 
 the interrogatory and the objurgation ; it hence fol- 
 lows that this locus suits was the apartment which 
 he occupied at the Holy Office. Marini knew of this 
 letter, for, in reference to another question, he quotes 
 a passage from it. 
 
 What was done with Galileo in the interval be- 
 tween the interrogatory and the objurgation ? In 
 the absence of authentic published documents, we 
 are reduced to conjecture this, from the sentence 
 of condemnation which was delivered on the 22d : 
 " Whereas it appears to us that thou didst not tell 
 the whole truth in regard to thine intention, we 
 judged that it was necessary to have recourse to 
 a rigorous 2^e7'sonal examination, an examination in 
 which, as touching the said intentions, thou hast 
 replied like a good Catholic." Galileo denied the 
 intention; on the 21st he was threatened with the tor- 
 ture, and on the evening of the 21st, or on the 
 morning of the 22d, they proceeded to a rigorous 
 examination. This examination could be nothing 
 else than the Question accompanied by the torture. 
 Marini maintains that, in the case of Galileo, they 
 co^te^ted tlaemselyes with threatening it, That 
 
THfi TRIAL O^ GALILEO. tl 
 
 might well be. It is to be remarked, however, that, 
 up to the point of the rigorous examination, Gahleo 
 had not answered to the satisfaction of the judges. 
 After the rigorous examination, it was found that he 
 answered as a Catholic should. It must be owned 
 that the conversion took place just in the nick of 
 time. However that may be, we cannot help saying 
 with Dr Parchappe that " the scepticism of history 
 is the chastisement merited by the secret of the 
 inquisitorial procedure, obstinately guarded for the 
 last two hundred and twenty-seven years." ^ No 
 doubt could have existed if Monsignor Marini had 
 desired it; or rather, if the precious documents of 
 the Roman archives had been placed in the hands 
 of persons acting solely in the interest of truth. 
 
 iVfter all, as M. Bertrand has justly pointed out in 
 his fine study of Galileo, this is but a secondary 
 consideration. Admitting that Galileo had been put 
 to the Question, it is quite certain he was not 
 mangled. In any case, a few minutes of torment, 
 even if Galileo did endure it, would have been a small 
 affair as compared with the moral torture which 
 assailed his last years. The poor unfortunate lived 
 ever after under the agony of a perpetual terror, 
 quite secluded, speaking to no one of his discov- 
 eries and ideas, fleeing all intercourse with learned 
 foreigners, the very approach of whom might have 
 compromised him. And then the shame of so many 
 evasions, tergiversations, and subtile subterfuges ! It 
 was to such moral baseness that religious terror had 
 conducted Italy in the seventeenth century, and per- 
 haps Galileo did not regard these as his most cruel 
 torments. 
 
 Nothing can be indifferent to us when the matter 
 is one pertaining to a genius like Galileo. Galileo 
 is in truth the great founder of modern science. lie 
 is much superior, not only to Bacon, whose import- 
 1 GalileOy his Lifcy his Discoveries^ and his Works. Hacliette, 18G6. 
 
^8 THE TRIAL OF GALILEO. 
 
 ance has been much exaggerated by English vanity, 
 but also to Descartes, who did not make experi- 
 ments ; to Pascal, who examined nothing to the 
 bottom, but let himself be carried away by chimeras ; 
 he is only inferior to Newton. While the scholastics 
 of Padua were enjoying in peace the fruition which 
 teaching bodies are accustomed to hold out to idle 
 routine and mediocrity, Galileo was an inquirer 
 on his own account; he studied nature instead of 
 the old traditional class books. I have seen, at 
 Padua, programmes of the Commencements of the 
 seventeenth century in which his name figures, 
 against trifling emoluments, by the side of the names 
 of obscure pedants endowed with large prebends. 
 The latter were regarded as the great men of the 
 time, as an hoBour to the school, and as the advocates 
 of sound philosophy. * It must be that science 
 possesses an absolute value; it' must be that the 
 divine impulse, which urges the universe towards 
 the accomplishment of its end, must have a great 
 interest in the discovery of truth, for the scholar, 
 who, charged with ascertaining the laws of the real, 
 prosecutes his vocation, without the hope of recom- 
 pense, in spite of persecution and insults, and without 
 taking account of advantages of every kind which 
 are the reward of the flattering of the false opinions 
 of men and of accommodating themselves to their 
 mediocrity. 
 
JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 M. Jules Boxnet, who is already kuown by several 
 excellent works upon the history of the Reformation, 
 particularly by a biography of Olympia Morata, which 
 is full of interest, has just published in two volumes 
 a collection of the letters of John Calvin, written in 
 French.^ This precious correspondence has never 
 before been collected into a complete form. " On 
 the point of returning to God," writes Theodore de 
 Beze, " John Calvin, always engrossed with the con- 
 cerns of the Church, commended to me his treasure ; 
 that is to say, a vast mass of papers, desiring that, 
 if anything was found in them which would be use- 
 ful to the Churches, they should be published. This 
 wish of the dying apostle obtained in the sixteenth 
 century only an imperfect realisation. The struggles 
 which absorbed the whole activity of men's minds, 
 the catastrophes and massacres which immediately 
 followed the death of the reformer, and, even in a 
 greater degree, the scruples of respectful admirers, 
 preoccupied at once with the regard due to con- 
 temporaries and the consideration demanded by a 
 memory which was dear to them, all seemed to 
 conspire to the postponement of the task bequeathed 
 by Calvin to his friends. We have no longer any 
 occasion for regret, inasmuch as a young and 
 laborious historian has, with the piety of a disciple 
 
 ^ Letters of John Calvin, now collected for the first time, and 
 published from the original Manuscripts. French Letters, 2 voIr. 
 Paris. 
 
80 John calvtn. 
 
 and the exactness of an impartial scholar^ ju^t 
 collected together these relics of the cradle of his 
 faith. The labour of M. Bonnet leaves only one 
 thing to be desired, namely, that the collection of 
 the Latin letters should be added as soon as possible 
 to the two volumes devoted to the French corre- 
 spondence. Would it not have been preferable to 
 comprise in a single series the two sets of letters, and 
 to present the correspondence of the reformer in a 
 strictly chronological order 1 I am inclined to think it 
 would. I do not ignore the reasons which have in- 
 duced the editors to follow another plan. They 
 thought that the French letters might possess a 
 literary or religious interest to persons who would 
 not read the Latin letters; but such a motive can 
 hardly be accepted by the disinterested reader. A 
 collection of the letters of Calvin is pre-eminently 
 a historical document ; to prize these for their 
 literary interest is to undervalue them, and to use 
 them as a book of edification is to mistake their 
 purport. 
 
 Does the character of Calvin, as revealed in these 
 new documents, differ sensibly from that which we 
 were enabled to trace from history and the portions 
 of his correspondence already published? It would 
 be mere affectation to pretend such a thing. Calvin 
 was one of those absolute characters, cast in a unique 
 mould, which can be wholly perceived at a single 
 glance; a single letter or act suffices to judge it by. 
 There are no curvatures in that inflexible soul, which 
 never once knew doubt nor hesitation. The natures 
 which reserve for history unexpected secrets, and 
 which in each posthumous revelation present them- 
 selves under new aspects, are those rich and flexible 
 natures which, being superior to their actions, to 
 their destiny, and even to their opinions, have only 
 shown to the world one side, and have always con- 
 cealed the mysterious side through which they 
 
JOHN CALVIN. (SI 
 
 have commimicated freely with the infinite. God, who 
 abandons the world to the violent and the stronp^, 
 almost always denies to them those snbtle gifts which 
 alone, in speculative things, lead to truth. Truth is 
 wholly involved in nice distinctions, but in order to 
 exercise great power in the world one must not 
 regard nice distinctions ; one must believe that one 
 is entirely in the right, and that those who think 
 differently are entirely wrong. A mind delicate and 
 free from passion, critical of itself, perceives the weak 
 points in its own armour, and is constrained at times 
 to embrace the views of its adversaries. The man, 
 on the other hand, who is passionate and absolute in 
 his opinions, barely identifies his cause with that of 
 God, and proceeds with the audacity which is the 
 natural offspring of this assurance. The world 
 belongs to him, and justly, for the world is only 
 impelled forward by strong minds ; but delicacy of 
 thought is denied to him ; he never sees the truth 
 in its purity ; self-deceived, he dies without attaining 
 to wisdom. 
 
 This severe inflexibility, which is the essential 
 characteristic of the man of action, Calvin possessed 
 in an eminent degree. I do not know that there could 
 be found a more complete type of ambition, a man 
 eager to make his ideas predominate because he 
 believed them to be true. Heedless of riches, titles 
 or honours, unostentatious, modest in his life, appar- 
 ent humility, everything made subservient to the de- 
 sire to form others in its own image. There is hardly 
 anyone, save Ignatius Loyola, who could dispute 
 the palm with him in these terrible transports ; but 
 Loyola added to them Spanish ardour and an enthu- 
 siasm of imagination which have a special beauty 
 of their own : he still continued to be an old reader 
 of the Amadis, pursuing, after the fashion of worldly 
 chivalry, spiritual chivalry, whilst that Calvin pos- 
 sessed all the sternness of passion, without a spark 
 
 V 
 
82 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 of entlmsiasm. One might say he was a sworn inter- 
 preter who arrogated to himself the divine right to 
 define what was Christian or anti-Christian. His 
 correspondence, elevated, grave and stoical, is wholly 
 lacking in charm ; it has no life : one never feels a 
 spontaneous glow nor hears a whisper from the heart. 
 His style, likewise, is strong and nervous, but dry, dull, 
 involved, often obscure, because, doubtless, the terrors 
 and the restraints of the times obliged him to express 
 himself ambiguously. It is said that the Latin letters 
 exhibit a more tender side of his nature : and this 
 is precisely one of the reasons why it is to be re- 
 gretted that M. Bonnet has not permitted us to read 
 side by side the two sets of correspondence. In the 
 one I can perceive nothing but sternness : grave con- 
 viction, a peevish temper, seeing sin in everything, 
 interpreting life as an expiation. For a moment, on 
 the occasion of the birth of his child, he deigns to 
 smile, but this is so strangely out of tune with his 
 nature that he soon relapses into his former sadness. 
 " It grieves me that I cannot be with you for at least 
 half-a-day, to smile with you while they try to make 
 the little infant smile, under penalty, however, of en- 
 during its weeping and wailing. For that keynote is 
 the one first struck at the beginning of this life, so that 
 we may laugh in good earnest when we go out of it." 
 It is surprising that a man who, both in his life 
 and in his writings, shows himself to us so little 
 sympathetic, should have been in his age the centre 
 of an immense movement, and that that harsh and 
 severe tone should have exercised such a great influ- 
 ence upon the minds of contemporaries. How, for 
 example, was it that one of the most distinguished 
 women of her time, Renee of France, in her court at 
 Ferrara, surrounded by the flower of the best minds 
 of Europe, was smitten by that severe master, and 
 drawn by him into a course which must have been 
 strewn with so manv thorns. One cannot exercise 
 
JOHN CALVIN. 83 
 
 that species of austere seduction except when one 
 pursues real conviction. Without that Hvely, pro- 
 found and sympathetic ardour, which was one of the 
 secrets of the success of Luther, without ihe charm 
 and the perilously languishing softness of Francis of 
 Sales, Calvin succeeded, because he was the most 
 Christian man of his age, in an age and country 
 which w^ere ripe for a Christian reaction. Nay, his 
 moroseness itself was tlie condition of his success : 
 for people seriously religious are more readily won 
 over by severity than by condescension : they prefer 
 narrow ways to wide and even paths, and the surest 
 method of attaching them to one is to demand much 
 of them, without affecting to give them anything by 
 way of return. Is it necessary to add that the essen- 
 tial qualities of rectitude, honour and conviction 
 which appear in the correspondence published by M. 
 Bonnet, completely exonerate the reformer from the 
 calumnies invented by Iiatred and party spirit? Two 
 letters concocted by a clumsy impostor in order to 
 defile his memory, and which superficial historians, 
 since Voltaire, have tacitly agreed to reproduce, are 
 triumphantly relegated to the rank of apocryplias. 
 If M. Bonnet's argument on this point had not been 
 indisputable, it would have had a decisive confirma- 
 tion in the new researches of M. Charles Read upon 
 the same subject, researches founded upon a com- 
 parison of the pretended autographs of Calvin, Avith 
 fragments of the same sort from his own hand.^ 
 
 The inevitable consequence of the character and 
 the position of Calvin was intolerance. Whenever 
 a man permits himself to be dominated by an opinion 
 which he believes to be absolute and complete truth, 
 so plain that only blindness or guilt refuse to em- 
 brace it, he necessarily l)ecomes intolerant. It is, at 
 first glance, a strange contradiction to find Calvin 
 
 ^Bulletin of tlw. FreiK'h /'rotctt'Off Iliston'cdJ Society, Wh \-v:\\\ 
 Ist series. 
 
84 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 vehemently demanding liberty for himself and his, 
 while refnsiug it to others. But this in reality is quite 
 simple ; he believed otherwise than the Catholics, but 
 he believed as absolutely as they. What we rightly 
 or wrongly believe to be the essence of nascent Pro- 
 testantism, viz. : freedom of belief, the right of the 
 individual to choose his own creed, was little dreamed 
 of in the sixteenth century. Without doubt this 
 appeal from the Church to the Scriptures, which con- 
 stituted the soul of the Reformation, turned in the 
 end to the profit of criticism, and in this sense the 
 first reformers are really the founders of liberty of 
 thought. But this was without their either knowing 
 or deserving it. The Catholics have said with some 
 reason of the French Revolution : " Raised against 
 us, it has, with God's help, wrought for us ; " the 
 philosophers can say the same of the Reformation. 
 History affords numerous examples where the doc- 
 trines of a party and the secret tendencies which 
 that party represents have shown themselves to be in 
 flat contradiction. In the quarrel between the Jesuits 
 and the Jansenists, the Jesuits contended for a doc- 
 trine more conformed to reason and more conformable 
 to liberty than that of their adversaries, and that 
 notwithstanding Jansenism was at bottom a liberal 
 movement around which we can conceive the most 
 enlightened and honest men might have rallied. 
 
 That violent zeal which urges the man of convic- 
 tion to procure the salvation of souls by means of a 
 fierce struggle, and without taking any account of 
 liberty, shines forth through the whole of the corre- 
 spondence of Calvin. Writing to the regent of Eng- 
 land during the minority of Edward VI. : "From 
 what I hear, Monseigneur, you have two species of 
 mutineers who have risen against the King and State. 
 One side are fantastical persons who, under the 
 colour of the Gospels, would put everything into 
 confusion ; on the other, are persons stubbornly 
 
JOHN CALVIN. 8S 
 
 attached to the superstitious of the Autichrist of 
 Rome. Both together richly deserve to be repressed 
 by tlie sword which has beeu committed to you, with 
 the view that they attach themselves not only to 
 the king, but also to God, who has placed him in the 
 royal seat, and has committed to you the protection 
 of His people as well as of His Majesty." The model 
 he proposes to him, as well as to the King of England 
 later on, is that of the holy King Josias, whom God 
 extolled for "having abolished and harrowed out 
 everything which served only to nourish superstition." 
 The example that he warned them against was that of 
 the kings who, "having overthrown the idolaters, but 
 not having completely eradicated them," are blamed 
 for "not having levelled the temples and places of 
 foolish devotion." Like the Catholics, Calvin claims 
 toleration, not in the name of liberty, but in the name 
 of truth. When he engages the civil magistrates to 
 use rigour against " the incorrigibles who contemn 
 spiritual pains and those who profess new dogmas," 
 the idea never occurs to him that the same prmciple 
 could be turned against his own followers ; and, 
 desirous of exculpating himself from the murder of 
 Servetus, he writes without unconcern this terrible 
 title, Defensio orthodoxce fidei, . . . ubi oslenditar Jujire- 
 ticos jure gladii coercendos esse.^ 
 
 These violences astonished nobody, and were in 
 some sort a common right. Bolsec, thrust out of 
 Geneva; Gruet, decapitated ; G en tilis, escaping only 
 for a time the scaffold through a retractation ; Ser- 
 vetus, submitting to his atrocious corporal punish- 
 ment in presence of Ftlrel — are no isolated acts. 
 Bitterness and threatenings flow naturally from the 
 pen of Calvin : — "Knowing in part what manner of 
 man he was," wrote he to i\Iadame de Cany, touching 
 some unknown person, " could I have had my way 1 
 
 ' A defence of the orthodox faitli, ... in which it is 
 proved that heretics raay be rightly coerced by the sword. 
 
86 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 would gladly have seen him rot in a ditch, and his 
 coming delighted me as much as if he had cleft my 
 heart with a dagger. . . . Be assured, Madame, had 
 he not got away so quickly, in the discharge of my 
 duty it would not have been my fault if he escaped 
 the flames." We recognise here the terrible frank- 
 ness of him who wrote a p7-opos of Servetus : Si ven- 
 erit, modo valeat mea auctoritas, vivum exire non patiar,^ 
 who himself furnished to the inquisition of Vieune the 
 proofs against that unfortunate man, and sent to the 
 Archbishop of Lyons leaves from the book which 
 were to be made use of to light his funeral pile.^ 
 
 Death itself did not appease him. Three years 
 after the execution of Graet, there was found in a 
 garret an autograph work, in which the rebellious 
 canon, in rage and despair, gave utterance to the 
 thoughts which, in more favoured times, he would 
 have had the right to exliibit with temperance and 
 wisdom. Calvin, judging that that writing had not 
 been sufficiently condemned by the death of its 
 author, had it burned by the hands of the common 
 hangman, and himself drew up the censure upon it. 
 In place of the pity called forth by the ravings of an 
 exasperated man, who avenged his confinement by 
 vi(jient speech, he breaks out into a fury against 
 that wdiich he calls " the blasphemies so execrable 
 that there is no human creature which ought not to 
 tremble at hearing them." This unfortunate man, 
 destined to death by a fatality, guilty of having said 
 in bad st^de in the sixteenth century what, if said in 
 the good style of the nineteenth century, is to him 
 " the adherent of an infected and worse than diabolical 
 sect . . . belching out execrations that ought to make 
 a man's hair stand on end: infections, stinking enough 
 
 ' Sliould he come and my aiithorit}^ liokl, I will not suffer 
 him to go away alive. 
 
 - See the fine study of M. E. Saisset, on Servetus in the Revue 
 des Deux Mondes, February and March 1848. 
 
JOHN CALVIN. Si 
 
 to poison a whole country, that all people of con- 
 science ought to ask God's pardon for the blasphemy 
 that has been heaped on Ilis name among them." 
 
 The severity of Calvin in that which touches 
 private morals astonishes and offends us even more 
 than those which orthodoxy exacted from him. Too 
 sternly bent on cheapening human liberty, and ex- 
 clusively preoccupied by the reform of manners, he 
 falsified at every point the idea of the State, and 
 made of Geneva a sort of theocratical republic, 
 governed by the ministers who carried their inquisi- 
 tion into every department of life. A spiritual State 
 was established at Geneva in the sixteenth century, 
 like as in the Italy of our own time. An annual 
 visitation from house to house was established, in 
 order to interrogate the residents as to their faith, 
 to discern the ignorant and the hardened from the 
 faithful. The most bitter irony flowed from the pen 
 of the reformer against the set of libertins, who made 
 a fruitless resistance to his vigorous rule. " There 
 are indeed a few complaints from people who cannot 
 endure chastisement. Even the wife of the man who 
 is to visit you (Amadee Perrin), and who wrote you 
 from Berne, lifted herself up rather haughtily. But 
 she was obliged to get away into the country, not 
 finding the town healthy for her. The others lower 
 their heads instead of raising their horns. One 
 there is (Grnet) who will probably have a very 
 heavy cost to pay. I opine it will be a matter of 
 life with him. The young people think that I press 
 them too hard, but if the reins were not held with 
 a firm hand their case would be the more pitiable. 
 We must secure their welfare, spite of their distaste 
 for it." And again : " True it is, Satan has plenty of 
 matches hereabouts, but the flame goes ont hke a 
 trodden spark. The capital punishment inflicted on 
 one of their companions (Gruet) has made them draw- 
 in their horns considerably. As to your guest 
 
88 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 (Araadee Pernn), I cannot tell how he will cany 
 himself when he comes back. His wife, however, 
 has played the diahlesse to such a degree that she 
 was obliged to get away to the country. He has 
 been absent now about two months. He must bear 
 himself meekly on his return." 
 
 Let us hasten to say that it would be an act of 
 supreme injustice to judge Calvin's character by these 
 vigorous words and actions. Moderation and toler- 
 ance, supreme virtues in critical ages like ours, could 
 not have place in an age which was dominated by 
 ardent and absolute convictions. Each party, per- 
 suaded that sound belief was the supreme good, com- 
 pared with which terrestrial existence counted for 
 little, and assured that it possessed exclusively the 
 truth, must hence be inexorable as regards other 
 parties. Hence, also, a terrible recrimination. The 
 man who makes light of his own existence, and is 
 ready to yield that up for his faith, is strongly 
 tempted to make light of the life of others. Human 
 life, of which temperate epochs are justly so saving, 
 is sacrificed with frightful prodigality. The abom- 
 inable excesses of 1793 can be explained only 
 by one of those crises when human life sank, if I 
 may say so, to the lowest price. Men's miods are 
 seized with a sort of frenzy : each accepts and gives 
 death with equal disregard. Let us imagine to our- 
 selves the state of exaltation in which the fervent 
 disciple of the Reformation lived when the news 
 arrived from Paris, Lyons or Chamberry of the tor- 
 tures endured by his co-religionists. History has not 
 insisted sufficiently upon the atrocity of these per- 
 secutions, and upon the resignation, courage and 
 serenity of those who suffered them. There are here 
 pages worthy of the first ages of the Church, and I 
 doubt not that if an earnest, simple narrative were 
 made of the writings and letters of the times of those 
 sublime combats, they would equal in beauty the 
 
JOHN CALVIN. 89 
 
 ancieiit martyrulogy. The voice of Calviu in these 
 trying moments attained a plenitude and an eleva- 
 tion truly admirable. His letters to the martyrs of 
 Lyons, of Chamberry, to the prisoners of Chatelet, 
 sound like an echo of the heroic times of Cliristianity, 
 of detached pages from the writings of Tertullian or 
 Cyprien. I own, that before having been introduced 
 by M. Bonnet into this bloody circle of martj-rs, I 
 understood neither the noble-mindedness of the vic- 
 tims, nor the ferocity of their executioners. Other 
 persecutions have no doubt been more murderous : 
 Philip 11. poured out more blood ; what persecutor 
 would not pale before the Duke D'iVlbe? But it was 
 faith, nevertheless, which, in Spain and in the Low 
 Countries, lighted the piles and prepared the scafiblds. 
 These hecatombs offered up to truth (that is to say, 
 what people believed to be such) possessed a dis- 
 tinct grandeur of their own : and one need but half 
 ]uty those who succumbed in that grandiose struggle 
 in which each fought for his God : faith immolated 
 them just as faith sustained them. But that Sar- 
 danapalus (this is the name under which Frances I. 
 figures in the correspondence of Calvin), in order to 
 subserve his political interests or to preserve intact 
 his pleasures, should constitute himself the avenger 
 of a belief which he did not hold, is at once odious 
 and horrible. The absolute faith of Spain covers 
 with a kind of poetry the glare of these atrocities. 
 One conceives a high idea of human nobleness to see 
 the barbarian, delivered over to all the impetuosity 
 of his instincts, prefer thus faith to life, to sufter and 
 to cause death for an abstract opinion. But when 
 witnessing in the land of indifference, in the full 
 light of civilisation, noble women burned, infants 
 tortured, tongues cut out, multitudes of unfortunates 
 soaking and languishing at the bottinns of the ditches 
 of (yhatelet, awaiting their punishment, and the 
 king, in order to prove his zeal, declaring "that he 
 
90 JOHN CALVIN, 
 
 was dissatisfied with the court of ParKament in 
 Paris," and characterising his counsellors as being 
 remiss and indolent, because they did not burn their 
 victims with more haste, the only sentiment is indig- 
 nation, and leads one to doubt the moral worth of a 
 country which could allow and provoke this exe- 
 crable sporting with life. 
 
 We must not hence be astonished that Calvin 
 appears to us so stern, so bitter in his conviction, so 
 intolerant of that of others. How can one cherish a 
 half belief in that for which one is proscribed ? What 
 faith so wavering that it would not become fanatical 
 under torture ? The pleasure of suffering for one's 
 faith is so great that, more than once, passionate 
 natures have been known to embrace opinions in 
 order to have the pleasure of suffering for them. 
 Persecution in this sense is an essential condition of all 
 religious achievements. It has a marvellous efficacy 
 in fixing ideas, for chasing away doubts, and it is 
 permissible to believe that what is called (wrongly, 
 in my opinion) the scepticism of our times would 
 yield before this energetic remedy. We are timid, 
 undecided ; we hardly believe in our own ideas ; 
 perhaps, if it were given to us to be persecuted for 
 them, we should end by believing in them. Let us 
 not desire this ; inasmuch as then we might become 
 iiitolerants and persecutors in our turn. 
 
 That this severity of character, Avhich constituted 
 the force of Calvin, is prejudicial to the develop- 
 ment of intellect, and excludes the flexibility of the 
 free soul that is in every way drawn on by the dis- 
 interested love of beauty and truth, is incontestable. 
 But strength of action is only to be purchased at 
 that price: largeness of mind can found nothing, it 
 is narroAvness of mind that unites men. Founders 
 generally manifest themselves to us as possessing 
 narrow minds, and not at all amiable. We are sur- 
 prised at first, in running through the letters of Cal- 
 
JOHN CALVIN. 91 
 
 viii, to iind in them tlie correspondence of a states- 
 man and an adminstrator, engrossed with affairs and 
 details, rather than of a thinker or an ascetic. His 
 theology even possesses little of the transcen- 
 dental : sufficiently disengaged from scholasticism, 
 more legist than theologian, in operating his reform 
 he is not swayed by speculative considerations, but 
 by views of practical morality. His long professions 
 of faith scarcely furnish a line that the thought of 
 our times could assimilate with advantage: the creed 
 is stripped of all its grandeur : their philosophy is 
 feeble : all imagination, all poetry have disappeared. 
 But it would be unjust to stop here. What matters 
 it that Calvin was a mediocre philosopher and theo- 
 logian, if this mediocrity itself was the condition of 
 the work he had to accomplish? Would a solitary 
 and passionless thinker have succeeded as he did in 
 lifting the incubus from the Middle Ages, and in 
 boldly rolhug back the history of Christianity for 
 ten centuries ? Would Calvinism again, without its 
 powerful aristocratic organisation, without the vigor- 
 ous tutelao;e to which it subjected the individual 
 conscience, have victoriously resisted such furious 
 attacks, and preserved in France an imperishable 
 leaven ? Force does not ordinarily succeed except at 
 the cost of the great sacrifices demanded by liberty : 
 and one is fain to believe that, apart from his sombre 
 and severe character, the attempt of Calvin would 
 have been, like so many others, only an abortive effort 
 to escape from the enormous pressure that Catholicism 
 had at last begun to exercise on the human mind. 
 
 The excellent Avork of M. Bonnet mu«t be em- 
 braced amongst the most essential documents that 
 the historian of the revolutions of the sixteenth 
 century will have to consult. Despite his eager 
 and avowed conviction.s, M. Bonnet rec(jgnises the 
 blemishes which disfigure the life of the reformer, 
 and blames his intolerance while excusing it, as he 
 
02 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 should, by the temper of his age. Let us accept, 
 then, as a good augury, the promise which the 
 learned editor makes in the preface, of giving us a his- 
 tory of Calvin compiled from original and authentic 
 documents. Nothing less than the prospect of that 
 great work will make us wait patiently for the 
 realisation of another engagement which M. Bonnet 
 has contracted with the public ; I mean a Life of 
 RenSe de France. As for me, I regret this postpone- 
 ment, which will deprive us for so long a time yet 
 from knowing, as Avell as she deserves, one of the 
 most enlightened women of her century, and one of 
 the most noble souls of all times. I know the 
 reasons which have determined M. Bonnet to give 
 priority to the austere reformer. Guided by con- 
 siderations, the most pure and most disinterested, he 
 desires first of all to make converts, and prefers that 
 which he regards as a duty to his own tastes and 
 success. But even from the point of view of pro- 
 selytism, I will take the liberty to combat his 
 resolution. The Duchess of Ferrara is an apostle 
 better adapted to our times than Calvin. Women 
 carry their seductive influences even into Theology : 
 they are privileged to have an opinion on these 
 matters, and the passion which they throw into it 
 gives it all the more charm. Renee of France, 
 spending the whole day in reading treatises upon 
 the mass and predestination, artlessly seeking for the 
 whole truth in regard to them, and enduring for her 
 conviction the most heroic sufferings, is the legend 
 of Calvinism. The book in which M. Bonnet retraces 
 that charming spectacle will be a ravishing book 
 (I need no other proof than the episode of Olympia 
 Morata, already published, together with the interest 
 that M. Bonnet can spread over that persecuted 
 erudite) ; at the same time, I venture to hope that, 
 even with his talent and his predilections, he will 
 succeed in making Calvin an amiable personage. 
 
THE AUTHOR OF THE IMITATION OF 
 
 JESUS CHRIST, THOMAS A- KEMP IS, 
 
 GERSEN, AND CAB AN AC, 
 
 It is au immense advantage to a book destined 
 to be popular that it be anonymous. Obscurity of 
 origin is the condition of prestige. Familiarity with 
 the author belittles the work, and in spite of our- 
 selves we perceive behind its most beautiful pass- 
 ages a writer whose business it is to polish phrases 
 and to combine effect. Wolf, in showing that 
 neither the Iliad nor the Odyssey is the result of 
 the lucubrations of a poet writing reflectively and 
 coherently, but the impersonal creation of the epic 
 genius of Greece, has furnished the prime condition 
 of the serious admiration of Homer. The claim of 
 the Bible springs in great part from the fact that the 
 author of each book is so frequently unknown. This 
 is the reuson why the fragments which constitute 
 the second part of the book of Isaiah, "Arise, shine, 
 Jerusalem, . . ." appear tons so beautiful, inasmuch 
 as we there discern the cry of hope from an unknown 
 prophet, the greatest, perhaps, of them all, announc- 
 ing during tlie captivity the future glory of Sion ! 
 Its perfection, too, is enhanced from the fact that the 
 author himself is oblivious, to the extent, that he 
 neglected to sign his name, or, that his book re- 
 sponded so completely to the opinions of the age 
 when humanity itselt might, so to speak, be substi- 
 tuted in his place, and may have adopted as its own 
 pages which, it was acknowledged, it has inspired. 
 
94 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 Criticism, tlie requirements of which are not 
 always in accord with those of artless admiration, 
 cannot be arrested by such considerations. The 
 more the author is unknown, the more does criticism 
 strive to penetrate the mystery of the great pseud- 
 onymous works. On occasions it would be matter 
 for regret if she were to succeed in tearing aside the 
 veil which constitues a part of their beauty. Fre- 
 quently, however, it happens that it reveals the 
 historical circumstances which, better than the insig- 
 nificant letters of a proper name, aid us in placing 
 the anonymous work in its proper place, and in 
 restoring to it its first significance. 
 
 The book which, under the faulty title of Imita- 
 tion of Jesus Christ, has achieved such an extraordi- 
 nary piece of good fortune, has exercised more than 
 any other work the ingenuity of scholars. In the 
 history of literature there is no work, perhaps, whose 
 paternity is more obscure. The author has not left 
 a trace of himself. Time and place do not exist for 
 him. We might even say that it was inspiration 
 from on high, one which could never cross tlie intel- 
 lect of a man.^ Never since the absolutely imper- 
 sonal narratives of the first evangelists has a 
 voice so completely disengaged from all special 
 individuality spoken to man from God, as well as of 
 man's duties. 
 
 ' One of the oldest titles is Interior Consolations. The actual 
 title is proved by the rubric of the first chapter, which, by an 
 abuse of frequent occurrence in the Middle Ages, has been 
 ap})lied to the collection of the four books. It is in the same 
 way that certain songs de Gesta are called Enfances, because they 
 commence with a recital of the marvellous infancy of the 
 heroes. The miity.of the book of the Imitation, and the modifi- 
 cations to which it may have been subjected, call for a searching 
 examination. On this subject it is necessary to read the learned 
 preface which M. Victor le Clerc has placed at the head of the 
 splendid edition executed by the Imperial Printing Establish- 
 ment for the Universal Exposition. 
 
THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 95 
 
 The three principal authors for whom the honour 
 has been claimed of having composed this admirable 
 book are a-Kempis, Gerson, and the Benedictine, Jean 
 Gersen, Abbot of Verceil. The rights of the last 
 were at first rejected as chimerical, but we have seen 
 his claim suddenly increase in consequence of an 
 unexpected discovery, and especially by the impos- 
 sibilities which a critic has brought to light in respect 
 of the other hypotheses. M. Paravia, professor at the 
 University of Tui in, has just published a new defence 
 of the claims of his countryman, i If he has not 
 added any new fact to those of a similar nature whicli 
 M. de Gregory has laboriously collected, he has, at 
 least, earned the merit of dispelling the evil impres- 
 sions and the digressions by which that patient 
 collector had injured his cause. We can only regret 
 that the last defender of Verceil pretensions has not 
 known better than some of his predecessors to place 
 himself above the inherent defect of Italian criticism 
 — I mean that natural vanity, so much out of place 
 in literary history, which inspires in the reader a kind 
 of defiance even against the highest tests of deduc- 
 tion and the most decisive reasonings. 
 
 On my part I admit as very probable the sentiment 
 of M. Paravia, especially as regards his negative con- 
 clusions against Gerson and a-Kempis. The opinion 
 which ascribes to Gerson the book of the Imitation, is, 
 from every point of view, unsustainable. This book 
 does not figure in the list of the writings of the 
 chancellor set out by his brother himself. A person- 
 age so celebrated in his lifetime would not have been 
 able, even if he had wished, to preserve his anonymity 
 in respect of a book which obtained so quickly to 
 renown, and in a century in which publicity was 
 already so extended. There is, besides, a strange 
 contrast between the rude scholastic, whose life was 
 filled up by so many contests, and the pacific pedant 
 
 ' PeW aatore del lihro De rniltationc ChriMi. Turiiu), 185.3. 
 
96 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 who wrote those pages, at once so full of suavity and 
 of artless abandon. A man so engrossed in all the 
 struggles of the age would never have been able to 
 express himself in accents so refined and penetrating. 
 The politician carries with him into his retreat his 
 habits of restless activity. There is a certain deli- 
 cacy of conscience which is irrevocably tarnished by 
 business, and it is rare to find, at least in the past, 
 a work distinguished by its moral sentiment as being 
 the outcome of the leisure hours of a statesman. 
 Gerson, in his Celestine retreat at Lyons, continued 
 to occupy himself with all the quarrels of the age, 
 and we know that when his brother asked him, in 
 his latter days, to compose for the community a 
 moral treatise, based on Holy Writ, he was unable to 
 accomplish it. 
 
 It is far from my purpose to belittle so extra- 
 ordinary a man — one who exercised in his life such 
 high authority in the Gallican Church, as well as in 
 the University of Paris. But it is evident that the 
 author of the treatise De auferibilitate Papw had 
 nothing in common with the author of the Imitation. 
 The latter had, it is true, mixed in the world, for 
 without that would he have been able to employ such 
 delicate accents in speaking of vanity? Neverthe- 
 less, everything goes to show that he retired very 
 early from the bustles of life. " When I wander far 
 from thee, thou hast brought me back to serve 
 thee. . . . How can I render thanks to thee for 
 this mercy ? " From the experiences he had in the 
 world, there is nothing either of regrets or bitterness 
 to be found in his work, but, on the contrary, ex- 
 perience and consummate wisdom. " We feel in it," 
 says M. Michelet, "a powerful maturity, a soft and 
 rich flavour of the autumn ; there is in it none of 
 the acerbity of youthful passion. In order to have 
 reached that state, he must at times have loved well, 
 hated, then loved again." 
 
TiioMAt^ a-kemPis. 97 
 
 Nothing could be less Gallican, nothing could be less 
 Universitarian than this book. Just think of it I This 
 charming flower was doomed to fade and wither on 
 the pavements of the Sorbonne 1 That the protesta- 
 tion of the soul against the subtleties of the school 
 should have parted company with the ergo! Gerson, 
 the dialectitian by pre-eminence ; Gerson, the enemy 
 of religious orders, the adversary of the mystics, the 
 representative of the eager Gallican, should have found 
 in his soul, hardened by the s^dlogism, the sweetest 
 inspiration of the life monastic ! What could be more 
 impossible? Let us add that the style of Gerson 
 possesses a barbarism altogether scholastic. That of 
 the Imitation is not Latin, it is true, but it is yet full 
 of charm. It must adopt a language of its own in 
 order to be what it is — very little classic, yet admir- 
 ably adapted to express the finest shades of the in- 
 terior life, as well as of sentiment. 
 
 The Thomas a-Kempis hypothesis is but little more 
 acceptable than that of Gerson, although it embraces, 
 from other points of view, a certain amount of truth. 
 The formula which is found at the end of the 
 Antwerp manuscript : Finitus et completus per manus 
 fratris Tliomce, anno domini 1441, indicates, no doubt, 
 the hand of the copyist or the compiler, but not that 
 of the author. And yet renown has not acted in a 
 purely capricious manner in the honour which it has 
 given to the scribe of Zwoll. The truth, as it seems 
 to me, is that Thomas a-Kempis was the author, not 
 of the book itself, but of the unheard-of vogue which 
 it obtained, beginning with the second half of the 
 fifteenth century, over all Christendom. A-Kempis 
 composed a collection of ascetic opuscules, at the head 
 of which he placed, as distinct treatises, the four 
 books wdiich, till then little known, became after- 
 wards, under the title of Iinilation of Jesus Christ, the 
 code of religious life. This collection was much 
 appreciated in the Low Countries and on the banks 
 
 G 
 
D8 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 of the Rhine. Many confraternities became eager to 
 have copies " made of the book written by Brother 
 Thomas." In one sense the pious a-Kempis has, then, 
 veritable claims to the book of the Imitation. He 
 did not compose it, but compiled it, and we can say 
 that, without him, this production, so characteristic of 
 Christian mysticism, might have been lost, or might 
 have remained unheard of. The Middle Ages has 
 thus a few characteristic copyists altogether estim- 
 able, who, by their studious habits, attained to a 
 position of great intellectual nobleness. The gentle 
 and guileless soul of this good scribe, who is declared 
 to have everywhere sought repose without finding 
 it, " except in a little book in a little corner " {in 
 angello cum libello), was worthy of responding, across 
 two centuries of obUvion, to the equally pure but 
 more elevated soul of the unknown ascetic whose 
 destiny would not have been completed if it had 
 not been preluded by obscurity, to tiie incomparable 
 eclat which the future had reserved for it. 
 
 It is not one of the least singular things of the 
 history of the Imitation that the revolution of July 
 had to be called in a propos of the discovery which has 
 thrown the greatest light upon its origins. On the 
 4th August, 1830, M. de Gregory, impelled by curiosity 
 to the Place du Louvre, entered the house of Techener, 
 and discovered upon the shelf of the librarian, beloved 
 of bibliophiles, an old manuscript of his favourite 
 book which had belonged for several generations to 
 the Avogardi of Cerione, in Piedmont. Some too 
 obliging paleographists may have declared to the 
 happy author of this godsend that the manuscript 
 could not be posterior to the year 1300. Such a 
 doubt, in the circumstances, is allowable. The 
 manuscript, while at the same time it drew attention 
 to the Avogardi, also led to the discovery of a family 
 journal which, beaiing date the 15th FebrUar}^ 1319, 
 contained a note from which resulted that the 
 
THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 99 
 
 precious volume had been for a long time m the 
 possession of the Avogardi as a hereditary treasure.^ 
 Wlien we can grasp an exact idea of the vakie of 
 a book belonging to the Middle Ages, we can cheer- 
 fully admit that the manuscript of the Avogardi 
 must have for long been almost unique, and that the 
 work was the almost exclusive property of some 
 religious houses of subalpine Italy, up to the com- 
 mencement of the fifteenth century, the epoch in 
 which Gerson, and especially a-Kempis, established 
 its celebrity. On the other hand, a considerable 
 number of old manuscripts attribute the work to one 
 Abbe Jean Gesen, Gessen, Gersen^ or Jean de Cahanac. 
 The name of Gersen is not free from all difficulty, 
 inasmuch as it cannot be maintained to the utmost 
 that there is here but an alteration of the name of 
 Gerson. But the name of Jean de Cabanac, about 
 which we cannot suppose there is any error, and 
 which is to be read in several manuscripts in the 
 Imperial Library, is altogether decisive, and it is 
 clearly that name which criticism must first dispose of. 
 Now, Cahanacum or Cahaliciun is probably Cavaglia in 
 the province of Bielle, where the name of Gersen, 
 Garsen, Garson, has been preserved until tliis day. 
 Seeing, however, that one Jean Gersen, Abbe of Saint- 
 Etienne of Verceil at the commencement of the 
 thirteenth century, is believed to have been found, 
 we are able to guess, with a somewhat strong pro- 
 bability, at the personage so long and so curiously 
 
 ^ "Post divisionein factam cum fratre meo Vincentio, qui 
 Ceredonii habitat, in siguuiu frateriii amoris . . . doiio ille 
 pretiosiim codicenj de Imitatione Christi, quod liocab agnatibus 
 meis longa nianu teueo, nam nonnuUi antenates mei liujus jam 
 recordaiunt." We may add, at the same time, that this text 
 responds so well to the requirements of the cause advocated by 
 M. Gregory tliat we cannot be blamed for doubting, in some 
 respects, its authenticity. It would be desirable that the journal 
 preserved at Hielle be examined by a paleographist wlio is at 
 once impartial aud thoroughly capable. 
 
100 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 sought after. By good luck, the case, for all that, is 
 not the less mysterious, for oue knows but the spell- 
 ing of the name of Gerseu, and there is nothing to 
 trouble the imagination in the dreams which one is 
 at liberty to indulge in respect of that pious un- 
 known person. 
 
 Be that as it may, two important results appear 
 henceforth to acquire relative importance in respect 
 of the subject we are discussing. First, the book 
 belongs to the thirteenth centur}^ to the flower of 
 the Middle Ages, and not to its decadence. One 
 could have been able to divine this, even though 
 the texts had not apprised us of it. Nothing could 
 be more sad, cold and colourless, than the close of 
 the Middle Ages, which, from 1300 to 1450, had been 
 anxiously expecting the great revival. The Imita- 
 tion does not belong to that sombre period, so full of 
 discontentment, aspirations, and upheavals. The 
 griefs of the Holy Mother Church, the reform of its 
 head and its members, the great lamentations over 
 the prostitution of Babylon, the Apocalj^pse invoked 
 against the simonaical papacy of Avignon — these 
 are the ever present thoughts of the contemporaries 
 of the Councils of Constance and Bale. There is 
 nothing of all that in the Imitation. We see 
 there a peaceable recluse, happy with his own 
 thoughts, unconcerned as to the fate of the Church, 
 without any preoccupation as to the future of the 
 world. His mortification is not of the kind which 
 succeeds great eras, and which was so sensibly felt 
 about the year 1350. It is rather that of an epoch 
 which is little disturbed, and is the prelude of great 
 activity. Scholasticism was already born, but not 
 as yet wholly pervading ; the soul still retained its 
 liberty. Scholasticism, against which the excel- 
 lent abbot protested, not belonging to the second 
 period, was represented by Saint Thomas, accepted 
 by the Church, and identified with theology to such 
 
THOMAS A-KBMPiS. ", { Vdl 
 
 a point that a cardinal made bold to declare that, if 
 Aristotle had not lived, something would have been 
 lacking in its dogmas. The scholasticism which ex- 
 cited the antipathies of that refined and charming sonl 
 is the scholasticism of the realists and nominalists, 
 that of Abelard and of Guillanme de Champeaux, the 
 scientia clamorosa of Mount Saint-Genevieve, wholly 
 engrossed with definitions and genus and species.^ 
 The discipline of the school, commencing with the 
 end of the thirteenth century, had become so absolute 
 that nobody would have been able to endure it ; and 
 not a voice was raised against it until the Renaissance. 
 The German mystics, Eckard, Tauler, Henri Suso, 
 who alone had perceived the nothingness of tliis 
 science of an abstract and emaciated God, had, like 
 the others, to submit to its influence. They cited 
 Aristotle and Averroes ; they imbibed from all manner 
 of impure sources. In the case of the author of the 
 Imitation, we find, on the other hand, virgin thought 
 which has not been contaminated by any profane con- 
 tact ; the Bible, the Fathers, the Saints, that was the 
 extent of the pious ascetic's reading. I might afiirm 
 that such a book could not have been written by any 
 of the people about Saint Thomas, considering the 
 pedantic habits which the writer manifests through- 
 out, in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. 
 
 Religious life, as it is presented to us in the book of 
 the Imitation, is equally applicable to the first half 
 of the thirteenth century. This hfe still manifests 
 itself under the Benedictine hood ; the complaints of 
 the author, and his anxiety for reform, embrace a circle 
 of ideas very analogous to those of Saint Bernard. 
 There is no trace of the immense revolution accom- 
 plished in religious life by the mendicant orders. 
 Where the author wishes to cite to his brethren 
 m( dels of young orders, and imbued with full 
 
 ^ Liv. l**'- chap. iii. "Quid curio nobis die generibus et 
 speciebus ? " 
 
]'G2 TflOrnAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 fervour, he cites the foundations of the eleventh and 
 twelfth centuries — the Chartreux, the Cistercians. 
 Here we have evidently the last breath of monasti- 
 cism in its antique and pure form, before the radical 
 reform to which it was subjected in the middle of 
 the thirteenth century ; a life sufficiently free and 
 contented, devoid of knavish practices, holiness of 
 soul and not of mere exterior. Once, it is true (Li v. 
 III. chap, i.), we find the liiimhle Saint Francis cited. 
 But this passage, which, moreover, is suspected of 
 behig interpolated, is far from disproving our thesis. 
 Such an epithet, subsequent to 1250, when Saint 
 Francis had become a second Christ, a sort of in- 
 carnation, "a sun which shines from Assisi just as the 
 other shines from the Ganges " (Dante, Paradis, chap, 
 xi.), would have been little understood. We may 
 remark, however, that the phrase cited is not textual, 
 and seems only to be hearsay. In 1215 the patriarch 
 of the mendicants removed to Verceil ; Gersen then 
 became Abbot of Saint-Etienne. He may have 
 already seen the celebrated saint, and gathered from 
 his lips the phrase which was thereafter engraven 
 on his memory. 
 
 A second result, which appears very probable, is 
 that the book of the Imitation originally appeared 
 in Italian. It bears marks of the genius of the latter, 
 superficial yet limpid, far removed from abstract 
 speculations, yet marvellously in keeping with prac- 
 tical philosophical researches. Lofty, transcendental 
 mysticism has never been the forte of Italy. The 
 direction which enthusiasm takes there is in an 
 especial manner political and moral. When com- 
 pared with Saint Theresa and Catherine de Siena, 
 the great Italian mystic is in reality nothing but 
 political. To concihate different cities, to negotiate 
 between the Guelphs and the Ghibelins, to measure 
 the pretensions of the rival popes, that has been its 
 history. From Petrarch to Mauzoui and Pellico, we 
 
THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 103 
 
 can trace in Italy an unbroken series of minds, refined 
 and distinguished, moderately ambitious in philo- 
 sophy, though very delicate in morals, and at the 
 head of these I should place the author of the 
 Imitation . It is most closely alhed to the spiritual 
 family of the Johns of Parma and the Ubertins of 
 Casale, who, starting from the mysterious Abbot of 
 Calabria, Joachim of Flor, if you will, under the 
 banner. of the "Eternal Gospel," joined hands with 
 the order of Saint Francis, and continued in Italy, 
 during the Middle Ages, the cult of the free spirit. 
 
 On the other hand, the Low Countries and the 
 Rhine provinces were destined, by reason of the 
 placid mysticism which they inspired, to become 
 the adopted country of the Imitation. Cradled in 
 Italy, it came first to be appreciated in the country 
 of Ruysbrock, Gerard Groot, and of a-Kempis. We 
 may even assert, further, that this book is in nowise 
 French. France has never been fully convinced of 
 the vanity of the world ; she has hardly ever taken 
 up the latter theme, except as a commonplace to 
 lend effect to the developments of oratory. An 
 exact and sound appreciation of terrestrial things, — 
 that is hQY forte. France, by reason of this essential 
 characteristic, is neither poetical nor mystical ; the 
 essence of poetry and mysticism consists in super- 
 naturalism. Now, the French mind is incomparably 
 the most perfectly in harmony with the proportions 
 of our planet ; it has gauged its dimensions with the 
 eye, and does not go beyond that. 
 
 When seeking for the origin of this idea of the 
 vanity of the wo7'hi, which has become the basis of 
 Christian mysticism, we are led to the book of 
 Ecclesiastes, in which is to be found its first ex- 
 pression. Now, the book of Ecclesiastes belongs, 
 as we gather from its style, to the basest epoch of 
 the Hebrew language, and is without doubt pos- 
 terior to the Captivity. I'hero is in it a compara- 
 
104 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 tively modern idea, which, on the one hand, allied 
 to the character of the Semitic race, treats of 
 everything in an egotistical and personal manner ; 
 on the other, to a lack of cnriosit}-, and to the 
 inferiority of the scientific faculties which char- 
 acterise that same race. It is assumed that 
 Solomon, after having exhausted science, power 
 and pleasure, arrived finally at the conclusion — 
 Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Never had such 
 an idea occurred to the Indo-European peoples, 
 not even to the Greeks or the Romans, who did 
 not look beyond the present life, and, until their 
 conversion to Jewish and Christian ideas, were 
 unacquainted with the malady of mortification. 
 Christianity rendered this sentiment predominant, 
 and made it one of the most essential elements of 
 its eloquence. Until the beginning of the fifth 
 century the world had lived on these two phrases — 
 Vanity of vanities. . . . One thing is needful. The 
 Imitation is the most perfect and the most attractive 
 expression of this sj^stem, grand and poetical un- 
 doubtedly, but a sentiment which the m.odern spirit 
 could only accept with a great many reserves. 
 
 Mysticism, in fact, neglected too much one 
 essential element in human nature, namely, 
 curiosity ; that charm which carries man to pene- 
 trate the secret of things, and which becomes, to 
 use the expression of Leibnitz, a mirror of the 
 universe. In our days, Ecclesiastes may no longer 
 affirm, " There is nothing new under the sun ; that 
 which is is that which has been : that which has 
 been is that which shall be." Ecclesiastes had 
 only perceived one point in the universality of 
 things which had been fully proved ; it regarded 
 the firmament as a solid vault, and the sun as a 
 globe suspended in the air ; history, that other world, 
 did not exist for it. Ecclesiastes had perceived, 1 
 am fain to believe, all that the heart of man is 
 
THOMAS A-KExMPIS. 105 
 
 capable of feeliug, but it had not conjectured all 
 that man is capable of knowing. In our time the 
 human mind outruns science : in our day science 
 outruns the human mind. I cannot admit that he 
 who knows, whether as poet or philosopher, all that 
 is known or may become known to the Academy of 
 Sciences and the Academy of Inscriptions, may still 
 affirm that to increase knowledge is to increase pain. 
 . . . I have applied my heart to knowledge, and 
 I have seen that it is the worst occupation that God 
 has given to the sons of men." On the contrary, it 
 seems to me that the human mind, in our age, will 
 emerge from the consumptive state into which so 
 many disappointments have plunged it, first, by the 
 moral sentiment, which in noble natures has the 
 privilege of surviving all manner of deceptions, next, 
 by curiosity, by that penchant which makes one, 
 though abused, attach oneself to this world, and to 
 find it worthy of study and attention. 
 
 Yes, undoubtedly, there is one thing needful. It is 
 an apt phrase, which must be accepted in its fullest 
 philosophical extent, as the principle of all spiritual 
 nobleness, and, though dangerous by its brevity, as 
 the expressive formula of the highest morality. But 
 asceticism, in proclaiming this simplification of life, 
 understands the one thing needful in such a narrow 
 sense, that its principle becomes, in process of time, 
 for the human mind an intolerable chain. Amongst 
 intellectual things which are wholly sanctified ore 
 to be distinguished the sacred and the profane. The 
 profane, thanks to the instincts of Nature, which are 
 stronger than the principles of an exclusive asceticism, 
 was not altogether banished; although vanity, it is 
 tolerated. Sometimes, even, the expression has been 
 softened to the extent of calling it the least vain of 
 the vanities ; but if logic had been given free play, it 
 would have been remorselessly proscribed : this was a 
 weakness to which the perfect man succumbed. Thus 
 
106 THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 
 
 human uatiire Las been mutilated in its noblest part. 
 In reality there is in the life spiritual very few acts 
 altogether profane. One thing is needful, but this 
 one thing embraces the infioite. Everything whose 
 objects are the pure forms of truth, beauty, and good 
 morals ; that is to say, to take the expression which 
 the respect of humanity has most consecrated — God 
 himself perceived and felt the cognition of that which 
 is true, and the love of that which is beautiful — all 
 this is sacred, all this is worthy of the passion of 
 the highest souls. For the rest, we heartily agree 
 with " The Preacher," it is only vanity and vexation 
 of spirit. 
 
 This is what the author of the Imitation has but im- 
 perfectly understood. He never issued forth of his 
 cell at Verceil. He read only the first line of Aristotle, 
 Omnis homo naturaliter scrir^e desiderata and he closed 
 the wholly scandalous book. " Of what use is it," he 
 said, " to have a knowledge of things upon which we 
 shall not be examined until the Day of Judgment?" 
 (Book I. chaps, ii. and iii.) It is by this that it is 
 incomplete, but it is also by this that it charms us. 
 How I should like to be a painter, in order to present 
 him as I conceive him, amiable and collected, seated 
 in his oak arm-chair, attired in the beautiful costume 
 of the Benedictines of Mount-Cassin ! Through the 
 trellis of his window we should see the world 
 adorned with an azure tint, as in the fourteenth cen- 
 tury miniatures ; in the foreground, a country dotted 
 with slender trees, after the manner of Perugia ; on 
 the horizon, the summits of the Alps covered with 
 snow ... It is thus that he appears to me at 
 Verceil itself, spreading out the manuscripts de- 
 posited in the Dome, and some of which, perhaps, 
 have passed through his hands. 
 
 The monastic life, amongst many other excellent 
 results, has the advantage of exempting chosen sotds 
 from vulgar pursuits, souls destined to the special 
 
THOMAS A-KEMPIS. 107 
 
 missiou of teaclnDg religion and morals. Men do 
 not place high value on that which is on their own 
 level. In order to embue them with high moral, 
 religious, and even political (in the best sense of that 
 term) action, it must not too closely resemble thein. 
 That cruel fate, which condemns to isolation the 
 man devoted to the cultivation of an idea, betrays, 
 at a very early period, a certain embarrassment 
 which makes him appear awkward, out of place, 
 tiresome in the midst of others. One sees that he 
 lives on a high plane, and that he has difficulty in 
 letting himself down ; he is not skilled in common- 
 places ; his reserve excites in ordinary persons a 
 sentiment of respect mixed with a certain antipathy. 
 In epochs when it was believed that creeds were the 
 most becoming occupation for cultivated minds, the 
 religious life was an excellent aslyum for such souls. 
 A person who exchanged the religious life for that 
 of the secular told me that the first thing which 
 struck him was the meeting outside the walls of 
 the cloister, not only a much greater number of 
 lofty and serious souls than he could have imagined, 
 but also that he was surprised to find the world 
 in general so commonplace and preoccupied with 
 household cares and a multitude of things which 
 were not ennobling. I have no desire to exag- 
 gerate the importance of that species of spiritual 
 gentility, without which one can very well be a 
 very useful citizen, and even a respectable man. 
 But it is certain that in abolishing tlie institutions 
 of monastic life the human mind has lost a great 
 school of originality. The distinction can be equally 
 acquired by the practice of an intellectual aristocracy, 
 and by solitude. Now, everything which has con- 
 tributed to maintain in human natuie a tradition of 
 moral nobility is worthy of i-es})ect, and, in a sense, 
 of regrets, notwithstanding that that result has been 
 purchased at the cost of much abuse and prejudices. 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 
 
 The work of M. Karl Hase, eutitled Franz Von 
 Assist (Leipzig, 1856), is a little masterpiece of 
 religious criticism. M. Hase's manner of treating 
 ecclesiastical history is peculiar to himself. A Pro- 
 fessor of Theology and Member of the Upper Council 
 of the Saxon Church, imbued, at the same time, with 
 a liberal mind, and persuaded that God does not 
 regard either forms or symbols, but only man's heart, 
 he has invented terms of expression at once models 
 of discretion, acuteness and reserve, in order to 
 describe important religious facts which are outside 
 the scope of all prejudiced confessional. If in some 
 portions of his numerous writings, and especially in 
 his '' History of the Church," that somewhat feigned 
 moderation which he assumes, and that tone at once 
 ironical and caressing, betray a certain obscurity and 
 far-fetched allusions, and an appearance of saying 
 only half what he means, wliich may be regarded as 
 insidious and contorted, such faults, in his life of 
 Francis de Assisi, are hardly perceptible. In the 
 present instance, one has nothing but praise to 
 bestow upon the justness and soundness of his judg- 
 ment, upon the precision of his style, and the pro- 
 found grasp of his knowledge. It is fortunate that 
 this excellent work has found a translator worthy 
 of the subject. M. Charles Berthoud, in this little 
 volume, has given evidence of a perfect acquaintance 
 with religious history, and great aptitude for learned 
 researches. It is not a complete translation that he 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 109 
 
 gives us. Thougli the ideas of M. Hase are throiigli- 
 out religiously adhered to, yet, in following a us-ige 
 that seems to be prevalent in our times in translating 
 German works, and which, on m}^ part, I regret, M. 
 Berthoud has revised certain chapters and cut out a 
 portion of the notes. Still, such as it is, the charm- 
 ing opuscule of M. Berthoud is certainly the best 
 work that can be consulted in our language in 
 regard to the life of him whom one of his disciples 
 has denominated the "patriarch of mendicants." ^ 
 
 Francis of Assisi possesses for religious criticism 
 an interest beyond expression. After Jesus, no other 
 man has been endowed with a clearer conscience, 
 more absolute ingenuousness, a more lively senti- 
 ment of his filial relation to the heavenly Father. 
 God was in very truth his beginning and his end. 
 In him, Adam appeared to be without siu. His life 
 is a fever of delicious madness, a perpetual intoxi- 
 cation of divine love. For an entire week he lived 
 on the chirp of a grasshopper. His eye, clear and 
 deep as that of a child, has seen the hidden secrets, 
 those things which God has concealed from the wise, 
 and revealed to babes. Now, this prodigy of holi- 
 ness, this miracle of gentleness and of simplicity in 
 a man who had an enormous public reputation, wdio 
 was always in evidence, and who proved himself to 
 be a great man of action and a powerful originator 
 — that miracle, I repeat, we can study now very 
 closely. 
 
 Centuries like ours, Avhich have little virtue to 
 boast of, are essentially scepticah Measuring every- 
 one by themselves, they proclaim that the great 
 
 ^ "Franf^ois cP Assise, etude historiqtie apres le docteur Karl 
 Hase, 'professeur a ~V Universite d^Jena, par M. Chaj'les Ber- 
 thoud," Paris, Levy, 1864, petit in 8^. The work of M. 
 Frederick Moriii, tSt Francis d'Assisi and the Franciscans 
 (Paris, Hachette, 1858), has been very well treated. But 
 Francis is in some portions represented there as tou much of a 
 skilful organiser, almost .as an accom])lished politician. 
 
110 FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 
 
 ideal figures of the past are impossible and chimerical. 
 In order to please certain minds, it would be neces- 
 sary to construct a history which did not admit that 
 any single man had been great. If you were to 
 present to them a picture which rose above the level 
 of the mediocrity to which they are accustomed, 
 they would accuse you of introducing legend into 
 history. They believe that all men have been as 
 base and selfish as themselves. Now, here we have 
 one of the richest and most perfect of legends. 
 Francis of Assisi floats before our eyes in a light 
 as ethereal as Jesus and Sakya-Mouni. Neverthe- 
 less, we have proof that (bating some miraculous 
 circumstances) the real character of Francis of Assisi 
 exactly corresponds to the portrait which remains of 
 him. Francis of Assisi has always been one of the 
 strongest reasons which has made me believe that 
 Jesus was nearly all that the synoptic gospels have 
 painted him to be. Some recent examples would lead 
 us to conceive great originators to be selfish men, 
 egotists, men puffed up with self-importance, wholly 
 preoccupied with themselves and their mission, and 
 sacrificing everything to these. It is no doubt true 
 that the man who, in our time, would attempt even a 
 part of that which Francis of Assisi accomplished, 
 would be quickly vilified. But let us never make use 
 of our leaden age as a historic measure when great 
 things are to be judged of. Francis enjoyed the 
 most extraordinary popularity without any sacrifice 
 of amour propre, without sacrificing any of his natural 
 simplicity. He was, in a sense, canonised by the 
 people while still alive, and yet he always continued 
 to be undefiled. 
 
 In fact, the life of Francis of Assisi, although en- 
 veloped in legend and impregnated with the super- 
 natural, is not any the less well known to us. Some 
 almost contemporaneous paintings have preserved 
 his features to us : we see — as if he lived in our day 
 
FiiANClS OF ASSISl, 111 
 
 — tliat small, delicate Italiau face, thin and pale, witb 
 its large beautiful eyes, its regular and liuely-cut 
 features, its almost imperceptible smile, its extreme 
 mobility. Tlie three legends of Francis of Assisi, 
 compiled — -one (that of Thomas de Celano) three 
 years after his death ; the second (that of the " Three 
 Companions," Leo, iiuhnus, Augelus) seventeen years 
 after that of Thomas de Celano : the third written by 
 Saint Bonavcntura, seventeen years later still — are 
 three masterpieces of simple compilation, in which is 
 clearly to be seen the part addressed to imagination, 
 and that to historical truth. These great legends, at 
 once ideal and true, were the especial gift of the Order 
 of St Francis, or, if it be preferred, of the thirteenth 
 century. Tne book, the '•' JJlts des qaatre ancelles," or 
 " The Life of Saint Elizabeth," compiled from the 
 writings of the four women who waited on her, is an 
 admirable image, whose lucidity is unsurpassable. It 
 is texts such as these which must be read to enable 
 us to understand what legend is ; how a narrative, 
 anecdotical and fabulous in lorm, may be more true 
 than the truth itself: how the glory of a legend 
 belongs in a sense to the great man whose life that 
 legend traces, and Avho has been able to mspire in his 
 humble admirers qualities which, apart from him, they 
 could certainly never have invented. 
 
 Ijet us hasten to say that it is not always thus. 
 The personal characteristics of great founders are 
 f)ften transformed by their disciples. Sometimes 
 legend creates a hero piecemeal, but more often 
 the hero creates his own legend. In other words, 
 there are legends which have ueither biographies nor 
 history (these two words must be limited to positive 
 facts, into which nothiug of the supernatural enters), 
 yet are true portraits. In such a case, only a simple 
 operation is needed to discover the truth: discard 
 the marvellous, the concrete and the anecdotic turn 
 which, materialising the idea, concentrates in a par- 
 
112 FRANCIS OF A8SISL 
 
 ticiilar fact the general characteristics which, in the 
 course of a life, have manifested themselves at inter- 
 vals. Those who think that the fabulous character 
 of a biography suffices to denude it of all historical 
 value, ought also to maintain that Francis of Assisi 
 never existed ; that he is a myth created to express 
 the ideal conceived of him by his disciples. It is un- 
 deniably the opposite of that opinion which is true. 
 The Franciscan movement had its inception in the 
 strong impression which Francis of Assisi made upon 
 some disciples, who, though similar to himself, were 
 yet much inferior to him. The legend of Saint 
 Francis has the aspect Avhich we recognise in it, 
 because Saint Francis had really that personality, 
 wdiich had impressed its image upon the minds of his 
 disciples. The beauty of the portrait belongs, more- 
 over, to the original, and not to the genius of the 
 artist who drew it. 
 
 For the rest, the cause of this notable exception is 
 very simple. That which distinguishes Francis of 
 Assisi in his age, and in all ages, is his perfect 
 originality. He is a Christian, doubtless, and even 
 a Christian most submissive to the Church : but his 
 devotional genius belongs wholly to himself. It is 
 probable that in France, or in good truth every- 
 where, except in that sweet and shaded Umbrian 
 valley, he would have been reproached with heresy. 
 He drew little from the Bible, which he read but 
 seldom. He was neither scholastic, priest nor theo- 
 logian. He Avas equally wholly detached from all 
 the popular cults of the middle ages, in particular 
 from that of the saints : and, without avowing it, he 
 felt he was their equal. His true origins are : first, 
 Umbria, " the seraphic province," that Galilee of 
 Italy, at once fertile and wild, smiling and austere; 
 next, b}^ Provencal poetry. He loved the trouba- 
 dours: he took them, in many respects, for his models. 
 He prayed and praised in their language. From their 
 
FRANCIS OF AftSISr. 113 
 
 name (jugleor) he called his disciples " Jongleurs de 
 Dieu." 
 
 That which belongs to himself alone was his 
 manner oi feeling. Buddhism itself has nothing com- 
 parable to it. Francis is much the superior of the 
 Buddhist " arhan." He has a zest for the real. He 
 disdains nothing ; he stands aloof from nothing ; he 
 loves everything; he has a smile and a tear for all; 
 a flower puts him in ecstasies ; he sees in nature only 
 brothers and sisters. What revolts us in Oriental 
 asceticism is the frightful simplification which it makes 
 of life. I have seen one of these saints in an Egyptian 
 village on the confines of the desert.^ He had been 
 there for twenty years, seated on the sand, plunged 
 into lethargic gloom : no longer seeing anything, or 
 hearing anything. His legs were as withered as the 
 shanks of a skeleton. The sun, beating on his cranium, 
 had taken all consciousness out of him : he existed 
 even less than the reed or the palm-tree. By reason 
 of creating a void about them, the Stylite and the 
 Fakeer arrive at a state bordering on inanity. Francis 
 of Assisi was the reverse of that. Everything had for 
 him meaning and beauty. We all know that admir- 
 able canticle which he is said to have named the 
 " Creatures' Song," and which, after the Gospels, is 
 the finest specimen of rehgious poetry, the most per- 
 fect expression of modern religious sentiment." 
 
 Most high, omnipotent and good Lord, to whom belongs 
 praise, glory, honour and all blessing, everything proceeds from 
 thee, and no one is worthy to speak thy name. 
 
 Let God my Lord be praised by all his creatures, and above 
 all by Messer Brother Sim, who gives us tlie day and his light : 
 
 1 Tel-el-Kebir, on the coast of the Isthmus of Suez. 
 
 2 The authenticity of this morceaiL appears to be certain : but 
 it must be remarked that we do not possess the original Italian. 
 The text that we have is a transhitiou from a Portuguese version, 
 which again is a translation from tlio Spanisli. The original 
 version was put into verse by I'riar Paciticus. The actual text 
 now presented is not versified. 
 
 U 
 
114 FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 
 
 he is beautiful, radiating all with his great splendour, and 
 presents to us an image of thee, Lord. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for Sister Moon and for the Stars, which 
 thou has created in the heavens, clear and beautiful. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for Brother Wind, for the air and the 
 clouds, for the pure sky and for all time, which give life and 
 sustenance to thy creatures. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for Sister Water, which is very useful, 
 humble, precious and chaste. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for Brother Fire, by which thou lightest 
 up the night; it is beautiful and pleasant, untameable and 
 strong. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for our Mother Earth, which sustains 
 and nourishes us, and which -produces all manner of fruit, varie- 
 gated flowers and herbs. 
 
 Praised be my Lord because of our Sister corporeal Death, 
 from whom no living man can escape. Happy they who shall 
 be found conformed to thy holy will, for the second death can 
 do them no hurt. 
 
 There is in this none of the constraint affected 
 by Port Eoyal, and the mystics of the French school 
 of the seventeenth century, none of the exaggeration 
 and frenzy affected by the Spanish mystics. Death, 
 at the point which Francis of Assisi had reached, had 
 no longer any meaning. Tn the whole of nature, he 
 saw nothing which was inimical or too insignificant. 
 He would take up the worms from the road to pro- 
 tect them from the feet of passers-by ; he would 
 exert his ingenuity to save a lamb from death or 
 from the dangerous company of goats and bucks : he 
 would conspire the escape of an animal caught in a 
 gin, and would kindly warn it against allowing itself 
 to be again trapped. He loved even the purity of 
 a drop of water, and was careful that it should not 
 again be rumpled and soiled. He possessed, stronger 
 than any man, that great trait which is peculiar to 
 minds devoid of vulgar pedantry — a love for and 
 sympathy with animals. Far removed from the 
 ferocity of the false Cartesian spiritualism, he ac- 
 knowledged only one form of life; he recognised 
 degrees in the scale of beings, but no pronounced 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 115 
 
 ruptures : he would not admit, any more than the 
 East Indian, that false classification which places 
 man on one side, and in a solid mass on the other 
 those thousand forms of life whose exterior we only 
 see, and in which the distracted eye sees only uni- 
 formity, but which may conceal infinite diversity. 
 For Francis himself, he could only hear one voice in 
 nature. One day, as he was returning to the hermi- 
 tage of Alverno, a great flock of birds was twitter- 
 ing near his cell. "See, my brother," said he, "how 
 our sisters seem to rejoice at our home-coming." 
 Later, on the point of death, Saint Bonaventura 
 admiringly relates that the larks, those friends of the 
 light, circled joyously round the roof which was 
 already wrapped in the shades of evening. 
 
 His perfect goodness renders these artless miracles 
 credible. He had attained to the supreme indulgence, 
 the perpetual joy of the great artist, who of all beings 
 is the nearest to God. An imitator of the celestial 
 Father, who makes his light to rise upon the 
 righteous and the unrighteous, or of the sun who 
 each morning regards with an equal smile the human 
 swarms getting up to go each where his desire leads 
 him, he does not believe in evil, he does not admit 
 its existence. It is not that he was indifferent, but, 
 penetrating to the innermost recesses of the heart, 
 he could find there no unpardonable sin save mean- 
 ness. Avarice, the narrow sentiment of the father of 
 a family who thiuks more of his children than his 
 soul, is the only vice against which he shows himself 
 severe. Weakness and error hardly seem to him to 
 be a wrong. He would that people should receive 
 brigands well, that people should lodge them, for he 
 was persuaded that it was hunger which had led them 
 into committing evil actions. To one who had just 
 been despoiled, and who was blaspheming, he offered 
 him all that he possessed, if he would cease to curse 
 Providence. We must say that, like the heavenly 
 
116 FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 
 
 Father, he seemed sometimes to have a secret 
 sympathy with sinners ; certain weaknesses seemed 
 to him marks of goodness ; certain backshdings the 
 exuberance of strong natures. We all know the 
 story of the wolf of Gubbio. Francis having stipu- 
 lated that it should have a daily allowance, the wolf, 
 abundantly nourished from house to house, hence- 
 forward renounced its murderous habits, for which 
 M. Hase, not without reason, casts reproach upon the 
 paternal processes of the ancient pontifical govern- 
 ment, which bestowed pensions on brigands in order 
 to convert them. 
 
 It may be said that Francis of Assisi, since Jesus, 
 has been the only perfect Christian. What makes 
 him thus stand out is that, with a faith and love 
 which knew no bounds, he undertook the accomplish- 
 ment of the Galilean programme. His first rule was 
 none other than the Sermon on the Mount, as it 
 stood, without either explanations or attenuations. 
 Francis had no desire to be made the head of any 
 particular order ; his whole desire was to practise 
 evangelical morality, to realise primitive Christian 
 perfection. The thesis of the book of the " Con- 
 formities," is the true one. Francis was in very truth 
 a second Christ, or, rather, a perfect mirror of Christ. 
 The fundamental idea of the Gospel is the vanity of 
 worldly cares, which turns man away from the joys 
 of the kingdom of God. This is likewise the 
 essential principle of Francis of Assisi. The bird 
 appeared to him, like as unto Jesus, to lead a 
 perfect life ; for the bird had no storehouse, it sang 
 unceasingly ; every hour it existed on the bounty of 
 God, and it wanted for nothing. Dante, whose 
 sentiment is in many respects more Umbrian than 
 Tuscan, has said in admirable verse, "Widow of her 
 first husband. Poverty, that spouse to whom as unto 
 death no one willingly opens the door, had remained 
 despised and neglected for eleven hundred years, 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 117 
 
 when this one, in presence of the heavenly Father 
 and the celestial court, took her for his bride, and 
 each day loved her more." Our century, the essential 
 feature of which is to judge things, not by their 
 aesthetic or moral side, but by their material dis- 
 advantages, no longer understands this absolute 
 idealism. It makes the pretence of doing great 
 things, apart from moral grandeur. Its inexperience 
 in history, its assumption that it has to inaugurate 
 a new moral era, inspire in it an exaggerated con- 
 fidence in wealth. Now, here was a poor man, the 
 son of a tradesman of Assisi, a kind of fool, by turns 
 beggar, cook and vagabond, who accomplished that 
 which our great men of action and our capitalists 
 will never be capable of, a work enduring for seven 
 or eight centuries, and embracing certain principles 
 true for all eternity. 
 
 II. 
 
 The principal idea of Francis of Assisi, the idea that 
 to possess is a wrong, that it is more noble to be 
 poor than to be rich, that mendicity is a good thing as 
 well as a virtue, requires to be closely examined. 
 First, it must be remarked that Francis, though he 
 forbids possession, does on no account forbid enjoy- 
 ment. Now there are cases where enjoyment sup- 
 poses possession, while there are others where enjoy- 
 ment excludes possession, the choicest things being 
 by their nature indivisible. What are the things 
 which afford to man the most lively pleasures ? 
 They are precisely those which do not belong to any- 
 body, such as national glory, past grandeur, master- 
 pieces of poetry, religious symbolisms, the sea, un- 
 cultured plains, the forest, the desert, the snowy 
 summits of mountains. There is no poetry in Beauce 
 or Normandy. A country cut up by boundary walls, 
 intersected with neatly-made roads, where one enjoys 
 
118 FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 
 
 nature in one's own garden, is far from being poetic. 
 At first glance, it seems that the dream of Francis of 
 Assisi was to put an end to all art, to all noble life. 
 And yet how strange that this sordid mendicant 
 should be the father of Italian art I Ciambue and 
 Giotto discovered their true genius in endeavouring 
 to paint his legend upon his tomb. Art, that refined 
 aristocrat, obstinately refuses its exclusive services to 
 the rich ; it works either for princes or the poor. 
 Wealthy England, with her millions, will never have 
 an art truly worthy of the name. Art is the child of 
 a lofty society, living for glory and for the ideal. It 
 accommodates itself to municipal republics, to the 
 princely life of an all but sovereign aristocracy, to the 
 monastic life, because that life lends itself to broad 
 dispositions (distributions)^ to large works in common. 
 I can comprehend Avhat kings, republics, princes, 
 nobles, monks and the poor have done for civilisa- 
 tion ; but I cannot conceive what a society founded 
 upon the selfishness of individual possession can 
 produce that is great. I fear that the final result of 
 such societies can be but deplorable mediocrity. 
 
 Certainly, if I were to maintain that the ideas of 
 Francis of Assisi were the remedy for this evil of 
 our day, I might justly be accused of paradox. The 
 theory of the excellence and the nobleness of alms- 
 giving will not find in our day many partisans. We 
 must acknowledge, however, that the antipathy of 
 the Franciscan school to wealth and economy rested 
 in many respects on exaggeration. To possess is 
 not an evil. It is nevertheless true that the acquisi- 
 tion of wealth implies a certain imperfection. For, all 
 said and done, if the man who has become rich had 
 been less eager on gain, less preoccupied by his 
 business, more ahve to his spiritual needs ; if he had 
 done more alms, if he had had more of that laisser 
 aller which is the mark of a lofty soul, he would 
 have been less rich. A man makes a fortune because 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 119 
 
 of his imperfections : to become rich a man must 
 rigorously insist upon his rights, carefully guard his 
 money, over-reach others (e.n tirer parti), fight at 
 law — all of which things, though not in themselves 
 an evil, are yet not of the best, nor the objects of 
 lofty minds. Where a man puts his treasure, there 
 he puts his heart also. Property cramps the soul, 
 robs it to a certain extent of its gaiety : the bird is 
 more agile than the snail which drags its shell be- 
 hind it. 
 
 But there is another phase of Franciscan ideas 
 which I find more true still : it is the loudly extolled 
 principle that one does not pay for the things of the 
 soul. There is between these things and any con- 
 ceivable price such a disproportion, that the pur- 
 chase money, in such a case, can never be regarded 
 but as alms. The Church, with her exquisite tact 
 in things spiritual, perceived this. She does not 
 admit that she ever can be repaid. She proclaims 
 herself poor, although in fact she is rich ; because, 
 if she were given the whole world, she would still 
 aver that it was not enough. Men devoted to 
 noble professions will never be brought to admit 
 that they are paid. In my childhood I heard it 
 related that in the time of the Corsairs the Breton 
 sailors returned home from their daring expeditions 
 laden with gold. But these proud natures, having 
 a horror of gain which had trausformed them into 
 mercenaries, invented a singular pastime. They 
 put their gold pieces in the fire until they were red 
 hot, then threw them into the street, and were 
 amused at the efforts made by the riff-raff to pick 
 them up. Having the glory, they considered it 
 unworthy of them to profit by it, and abandoned 
 the latter to inferior natures, which it suited. 
 
 For us, whose lot it is to drag out our lives in the 
 mud of a submerged Atlantis, these grand dreams 
 of a vanished heaven are a profound, true, and an 
 
120 FRANCIS OF ASSISl. 
 
 eternal coDSolatioD. Let us figure to ourselves this 
 first chapter of the Order, those five thousand mendi- 
 cants encamped under huts made of straw or of 
 branches from the trees, at the foot of the mountain 
 of Assisi, and the amazed bystanders exclaiming, — 
 *' Yes, this is in very truth the camp of God ! " Or 
 better still, the distribution of the great indulgence of 
 the Portiuncula. From the first stroke of the vesper 
 bell of the first of August until the vesper on the 
 day following, the multitude, stiffled by the burning 
 heat of the sun, rushed forward in order to cross 
 the little chapel to obtain the full pardon. " Good 
 people that you are," the Dominicans would say, 
 " why do you expose yourself to this great heat, to 
 these fatigues? The indulgence promised you is not 
 so great as you are told, besides, the Minorites are 
 not able to share the diplome " (the pope's licence). 
 This was true ; the pope had never given any written 
 authority to Francis. " Christ," the holy man would 
 say, " is my advocate, and the angels are my wit- 
 nesses 1 " On one occasion an old woman died. She 
 appeared to the pilgrims and said to them, — *' By 
 virtue of this indulgence, I entered straight into 
 Heaven." 
 
 From this Franciscan legend we can see that its 
 beauty consists in its having emanated entirely, 
 without ecclesiastical intervention, from the popular 
 conscience. It is the glory of Italy that its people 
 are at once the masters of an elegant speech and of 
 a refined taste ; the possessors of an exquisite tact, 
 the iuspirers, the collaborators and the apprepiators 
 of things beautiful. Next to Christianity, the Fran- 
 ciscan movement is the greatest popular movement 
 which is recorded by history. We trace in it the 
 simplicity of men who knew nothing apart from 
 nature, and what they had seen or heard in the 
 Church, then mixed all together in the most incon- 
 siderate manner. One feels one's self removed a 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 121 
 
 thousand miles from scholasticism. Francis of ^Assisi 
 is ahiiost the only man in the Middle Ages who was 
 completely exempt from that leprosy, who was not 
 tainted with the false mental discipline which the 
 subtleties of the school had introduced. He had no 
 other theological instruction than that of a humble 
 believer. His preaching was peculiar. He preached 
 from the abundance of his heart. If it happened that 
 ^ words failed him, he would bless the people and 
 dismiss them. One day, however, when he was to 
 preach before Pope Honorius and his cardinals, he 
 carefully studied his discourse, and committed it to 
 heart. He had hardly commenced when his memory 
 failed him. Thereupon he put aside the prepared 
 sermon, and betook himself to improvisation, and 
 found words much more rapturous. He cast his feet 
 and hands about as though he were going to fly ; 
 but the idea never occurred to anyone to turn this 
 into ridicule, although his friend Cardinal Ostia was 
 filled with anxiety, and was silently praying that 
 the artlessness of such a man would not bring him 
 into contempt, 
 
 A thorough Italian, he possessed a species of in- 
 tuitive ability, a something which, without effort, 
 ensures success in the most difficult enterprises. It 
 is matter for wonder that he did not break a score of 
 times with the narrow orthodoxy of his time. His 
 gentleness served to disarm everyone. But then, 
 given a certain degree of holiness, heresy becomes 
 impossible ; because, again, given a certain moral 
 elevation, dogma has no existence: there is no room 
 for disputation. His relations with Innocent IH. are 
 presented in various lights by his biographers, but 
 all of them do honour to his judgment. Similar 
 attempts to his, that of the " Pauvres de Lyons," for 
 example, had been ruthlessly suppressed. Religious 
 mendicity, exterior austerity, Avere (jualities wliich, 
 calling to mind the Cathari, excited the keenest sus- 
 
122 FRANCIS OF ASSISl. 
 
 picions of the high church party. Marvels of honest 
 simpHcity were requisite in order not to go to de- 
 struction against that rock. As for the mighty of 
 the world, Francis never knew them. His policy was 
 artless in the extreme. He dreamt sometimes of 
 visiting the Emperor. " I should ask him," said he, 
 " both for the love of God, and for love of me, to 
 publish an edict adhibiting anyone from taking my 
 sisters the larks, and from doing them any injury, 
 and ordaining that, on the lioly Christmas night, he 
 who had an ox or an ass should take most particular 
 care of it, and that during this feast the poor be 
 abundantly fed from the table of the rich." 
 
 With him everything took a poetic or concrete 
 form. He lived in the state of mind in which the 
 primary images that serve as the basis of language 
 and mythology are created. One winter night, one 
 of his disciples saw him enter the garden and make 
 human figures in the snow, saying to himself: " See ! 
 this big one is thy wife ; these two are thy sons ; 
 these two there are thy daughters, and those other 
 two thy man-servant and thy maid-servant. Make 
 haste to clothe them, for they are dying of cold. But 
 if that is too much trouble for thee, content thyself 
 with serving the Lord." Remember that all this is 
 eight or ten thousand years old. With him every 
 idea was materialised into a little drama ; everyone 
 of his sensations assumed a corporeal form, himself a 
 sort of outward plastic reaHsation. 
 
 The people who pressed around him were similar 
 to himself, slightly irregular^ with very little theology. 
 They were composed of mendicants, quondam poets, 
 women, converted brigands, and outcasts of every 
 description. They were all of a jovial disposition ; 
 the scene was sometimes one of wild, exuberant 
 gaiety, a very carnival of holiness. Francis's prin- 
 ciples were such as would not permit of severe dis- 
 crimination in the choice of his subjects. He was too 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSISl. 123 
 
 good to be suspicious, and to bave wbat is called a 
 knowledge of men. He receiv^ed tbieves and bonest 
 folks witb an equal welcome. In general, tbe tbieves, 
 toucbed by tbis welcome, became bis saints, tbougb, 
 in some cases, tbeir natural propensities returned. 
 Tbis great founder often entrusted "suspected per- 
 sons " witb bis confidence. We all Icnow tbe bistory 
 of tbat Friar Ebas of Cortona, wbo was bis intimate 
 friend and bis immediate successor. He was an in- 
 triguer, wbo, before and after tbe deatb of tbe saint, 
 played a most equivocal part. Francis esteemed 
 bim, for no otber reason tban tbat be was so little 
 like bimself. Elias was a consummate politician and 
 a skilful administrator. The good, holy man, seduced 
 by qualities wbicb be bimself did not possess, made 
 bim bis rigbt arm, and bis last blessing was delivered 
 upon tbe bead of an impostor, wbo deviated in tbe 
 strangest manner possible from tbe seraphic work. 
 True it is tbat without bim it is open to question 
 whether the woik could bave succeeded. It was 
 Friar Elias wbo brougbt down tbe too lofty ideal of 
 tbe founder to the limits of tbe possible, and accom- 
 modated it to human weaknesses. The capital rule 
 written by Francis's own band, and wdiicb it was be- 
 lieved be had received upon tbe mountain as a revela- 
 tion, established absolute poverty. Tbis was not 
 agreeable to Brother EHas. He destroyed the manu- 
 script, of which be was the guardian, and pretended 
 to bave mislaid it by mistake. He represented tbat 
 phase of charlatanism without wbicb (such is the 
 weakness of men) it would appear that no great 
 popular movement can succeed. M. Hase thinks, 
 and I am at one witb him in his opinion, that the 
 stigmata of Saint Francis, those stigmata which 
 appeared as bis just title to an exceptional place in 
 the Christian heaven, were the invention of Friar 
 EHas. 
 
 The discussion touching the miracle of tbe stig- 
 
124 FRANCIS OF ASSIST. 
 
 mata is perhaps the most interesting portion of 
 the work of M. Hase. This miracle, besides that it 
 is the greatest in the history of the Church of the 
 Middle Ages, is likewise remarkable in that it is at- 
 tested by witnesses all of which are contemporane- 
 ous. Not only do Thomas de Celano, the " three 
 companions," and Saint Bonaventura speak of it 
 (with important variations, no doubt), not only is it 
 mentioned in passages of authors, strangers to the 
 Order, passages of unquestionable authenticity, and 
 posterior by only five or six years to the death of the 
 saint, but we have also a document Avhich is decisive. 
 Elias, who, during the last six months of Francis, 
 held almost in tutelage the mendicant saint, and 
 never quitted him an instant; this Elias, in whose 
 arms he expired, and who, from the moment that the 
 last breath had gone out of him, governed the Order 
 in his stead ; this Elias, I repeat, almost in presence 
 of the corpse, wrote a circular letter to announce to 
 the brethren in France the death of the patriarch. 
 In this letter, the original of which was found in the 
 convent of Valenciennes, and of which Wadding had 
 produced an exact copy, Elias speaks of the "new 
 miracle which was manifested on the body of the 
 saint a short time before his death," and describes 
 that miracle in a manner conformably to other texts, 
 although rather more timidly. It is, consequently, 
 impossible to think here of a legendary elaboration, 
 of a tardily invented rumour with the object of con- 
 forming the life of Francis of Assisi to that of his 
 divine model. No ; on the very day of the death of 
 Saint Francis, the stigmata are mentioned. There 
 is nothing to prove that they had been mentioned 
 before, so that we are almost forcibly led to the 
 conclusion, either that Friar Elias invented the 
 thing, thinking that the rumour would not reach 
 Assisi until the body should be placed out of sight, 
 or that he himself imprinted the sacred marks upon 
 
FRANCIS OF ASSlSr. 125 
 
 the body, the disposition of which latter he had 
 during a whole night.^ 
 
 This second hypothesis is highly probable. The 
 body, in fact, was seen at Assisi by thousands of 
 persons in the hours immediately succeediug death ; 
 for years the body continued to be the chief object 
 of interest to Umbria, to the popes, and to the whole 
 of Christendom. It was indeed dangerous to found 
 such a belief upon a fact, the absurdity of which 
 could have been proved. It is undoubted that the 
 inhumation of the body was strangely precipitate. 
 The saint died on Saturday evening, and on Sunday 
 morning he was carried first to the monastery of 
 Santa Clara, then to the cathedral of Assisi. Con- 
 trary to the Italian custom, the shell was closed ; it 
 was necessary to open it that Clara and her virgins 
 might kiss the hand of the patriarch through the 
 little window by which the nuns are given the holy 
 sacrament. There is a still stranger fact. From 
 the time of the removal of the body, which took 
 place on Holy Saturday in the year 1239, to the 
 definitive sepidture, that is to say, to the grand 
 basilica at Assisi, built expressly for the purpose 
 within the three years and a half immediately suc- 
 ceeding the demise, we discover again the hand of 
 Elias. That artful personage seems to have taken 
 precautions against anyone viewing the body. The 
 multitude was eager to know, at any cost, whether 
 the corpse, as was said, really preserved its life-like 
 appearance ; it desired even more eagerly to touch 
 the stigmata. On this being refused, a frightful 
 tumult ensued, for which Elias was held responsible. 
 It has always been a tradition in the Order that 
 Elias took possession of the body, and secretly 
 interred it in a place in the Church which was to 
 
 ' Doubts arose as early as the thirteenth century; '■^ an pia 
 fuisset ilUisio sire svorinn fratrum siiunlata iutentio." These 
 words occur in the " Legende Dor6e" of Jacques de Voragine. 
 
126 FRANCIS OF Assisr. 
 
 be known only to the General. This prompt and 
 tnysterions disappearance induces the belief that 
 there was some powerful motive for concealing the 
 corpse of the saint from the regards of men. Wliat 
 seems most probable is that the body did indeed 
 bear marks, in which, with a little credulity, it was 
 possible to see the sacred stigmata, but which it was 
 not desirable to expose to a searching examination. 
 
 Many circumstances confirm this supposition. A 
 few days before his death the saint was subjected to 
 cauterisation. It was then that he exclaimed : " My 
 brother fire, the Lord has made thee beautiful and 
 useful ; be gentle to me in this hour." It is not im- 
 possible that these traces of the cauterisations, found 
 by Elias upon the corpse, may not have suggested 
 the idea of the fraud, and have spared him the trouble 
 of imprinting them with his own hands. If it be true 
 that the Church of the Portiuncula possesses the heart 
 of the saint, the wound in the side finds also a most 
 natural explanation by the operation which, accord- 
 ing to this hypothesis, was performed after death. 
 
 One ought to read in M. Hase's work the narrative 
 of the imposing legends which have never ceased 
 to issue from that strange tomb. Underneath the 
 two superimposed basilicas, Umbrian imagination has 
 erected a third, higher, and much more beautiful. 
 There, in his doubly subterranean church, Francis, 
 alone with some lighted wax tapers, awaits the Day 
 of Judgment : living he stands upon the altar of 
 marble without having felt corruption, his hands 
 crossed, his five wounds dripping with blood. With 
 his eyes raised to heaven he prays for men. A few 
 privileged ones, being engaged in prayer in the lower 
 church, and warned by earthquakes, saw the ground 
 open of its own accord, and were thus enabled to 
 descend. The wildest stories were spread around. 
 Under pain of excommunication, Paul V. prohibited 
 anyone from searching for the holy tomb. In 1818, 
 
FRANCIS OF Assrsi. 127 
 
 that marvellous leo-end was exploded. Under the 
 authority of Pins VI I., the General of the Franciscans 
 caused excavations to be made : the pretence was 
 made that the skeleton of Francis was discovered in 
 a stone coffin under the high altar. The splendid 
 ideal cathedral was then smashed like a pane of 
 glass, and a miserable little subterranean chapel, in 
 the very worst style, has replaced it. 
 
 Who is there that will give us one day a complete 
 account of the first century of Franciscan history? 
 There never was a popular revolution which has 
 been subjected to more' regular laws. One should 
 see after the death of this saint, his thoughts rent 
 asunder, if I may say so, by two contending parties; 
 the one faithful to the ideal of the master, eager to 
 regenerate the world through poverty, culminating 
 in 1254 in the audacious attempt of the "Eternal 
 Gospel," and whose principal representatives are 
 John of Parma, Pierre-Jean de Olive, Ubertin de 
 Casas, Fra Dolcino, and Michel de Cesene ; the other 
 more terrestrial, more governable, and more speedily 
 dominated and enlisted by the court of Rome. Two 
 things would thus appear to have sprung from 
 Francis ; first, a religious Order, which has done 
 more evil than good ; in the second place, a ferment 
 of liberty and of popular initiative, whence has 
 proceeded the majority of the innovators of the 
 second half of the Middle Ages. In many respects 
 that exalted Franciscan school was one of the fore- 
 runners of the Reformation. Friar Elias, Michel de 
 Cesene, Marsile of Padua pursued in many cases the 
 policy of John lluss and Martin Luther. Like them, 
 they invited the German princes to reform the 
 corrupted Church, and appealed to civil society 
 against the papacy and the episcopate. 
 
 But the exposition of these ideas would carry us 
 much too far. Let us thank M. Berthoud for his 
 charming little volume, which entirely disposes of 
 
128 FRANCIS OF ASSISI. 
 
 the Fater Seraphicus, and let us hope that he will 
 fulfil the promise which he makes in his preface of 
 giving us likewise in French the work of M. Hase 
 on Saint Catherine of Siena. The religious history 
 of the Middle Ages, the original documents pertain- 
 ing to which have long since been worked up, will 
 gain by such labours what hitherto it has indeed 
 lacked — just criticism and enlightened appreciation. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR AND THE ETERNAL 
 
 GOSPEL. 
 
 The fundamental idea of nascent Christianity was 
 faith in the near inauguration of a kingdom of God, 
 which should renew the world, and found therein 
 the eternal felicity of saints. Jesus repeatedly 
 declared that those whom he tauglit would not 
 taste of death until they had witnessed his advent. 
 The whole of the first Christian generation lived in 
 the belief that at any moment they might see 
 appear in the heavens the gTeat sign which was to 
 announce the coming of the Son of Man. The 
 author of the Apocalypse, more audacious, even 
 essayed to calculate the days. But, seeing that the 
 world wagged on, complaisant explanations afforded 
 a back-door to these too precise prophecies, and 
 the leaven of infinite hopes which lay at the heart 
 of the new religion did not in consequence perish. 
 A family of uninterrupted enthusiasts, in one sense 
 most sincere disciples of Jesus, was continued from 
 century to century, who kept announcing the near 
 fulfilment of the promised ideal. This powerful 
 instinct as to the future has been the mainstay of 
 Christianity, the secret of its perennial youth. 
 What are the congregations of " The Latter-Day 
 Saints," who still keep multiplying in England and 
 the United States, if they are not, in their way, 
 the remnant of the old spirit, the direct fruit of 
 
 I 
 
130 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 tlie Apocalypse, a party o£ belated millenarians, 
 cherishing, in the full day of the niueteenth century, 
 the hopes which were the consolation of the first 
 believers ? 
 
 But of all the Utopias which have emanated from 
 these aspirations towards a new state of mankind, 
 expecting to realise what until then had only been 
 figure and prophecy, the most original undoubtedly 
 was the attempt of the religious and monastic sect 
 which, at the commencement of the thirteenth 
 century, essayed to reform the Church and the 
 world, and boldly inscribed upon its standard, The 
 Eternal Gospel. The ill success of this attempt, 
 and the severities it was subjected to, destroyed 
 the monuments by which it might have been 
 directly made known to us. It requires now the 
 most minute enquiries to discover a trace of these 
 daring innovations, and in the study upon which we 
 are about to enter, we shall often be compelled to 
 have recourse to methods admitted in the publica- 
 tions of the learned. But the subject we are about 
 to investigate is the most extraordinary, perhaps, 
 in the most important epoch of the Middle Ages. 
 Nothing, therefore, ought to be regarded as chim- 
 erical or puerile when the matter in hand is that of 
 reviving the memory of those who loved humanity, 
 and suffered in the belief of serving her. 
 
 I. 
 
 Joachim di Flor. 
 
 A name which is half legendary shines out at the 
 head of The Eternal Gospel. Towards the end of 
 the twelfth century, and in the first years of the 
 thirteenth, there lived iu Calabria a holy Abbot of 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 131 
 
 tlie Cistercian order, named Joachim.^ Located on 
 the confines of the Greek and Latin Churches, he 
 discerned with rare foresight the general state of 
 Christianity. The whole Latin world acknowledged 
 hitn as a prophet — a new order, that of Flor, 
 adopted his name, taking it from the place, in the 
 vicinity of Cosenza, whither he had retreated. The 
 narrow and suspicious scholastic theology which 
 was soon to parch all the healthy germs which the 
 century carried in its bosom, was not yet dominant. 
 The doctrine of Joachim was never assailed during 
 his lifetime. On the contrary, it was much esteemed 
 by Popes Lucius IIL and Clement III. It was 
 generally held that, in order to be able to explain 
 the obscure oracles in the holy books, he had 
 received supernatural light and special assistance. 
 
 Endowed with an ardent imagination, the Cala- 
 brian enthusiast, in his frequent intercourse with the 
 Greek Church, the scrupulous guardian of ancient 
 discipline, and, perhaps, with some branch of the 
 Catharist Church, conceived a great aversion to the 
 organisation of the Latin Church, the intrusion of 
 feudalism into sacred things, and to the corrupt and 
 worldly manners of the simonaical high clergy. 
 The idea which, three centuries later, led to a 
 religious revolution, I mean, the profound differ- 
 ence between the Church of the Middle Ages and 
 the primitive Church, he already entirely possessed. 
 The Bible, and above all the Prophets, which he 
 read constantly, revealed to him a historic philo- 
 sophy, which he applied without compuuction to 
 the present, by which even he pretended to sway 
 the future. The destiny of the Catholic Church, 
 such as it had attained in the course of centuries, 
 appeared to him to be nearing its end. The 
 Greek Church, he sometimes said, is Sodom, the 
 
 1 See liis life in The Dollanduts, Acta S. 8. Maii, vol. vii. 
 page 1)3, et seq. 
 
132 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 Latin Church, Gomorrah. ^ He seemed to beUeve 
 that the doctrine of Christ was not definitive, and 
 that the reign of the Holy Spirit obscm-ely hinted 
 at in the Gospel had not 3^et been established. 
 
 Such thoughts occurred spontaneously in countries 
 the most diverse, to souls which felt the throes of 
 the times. The courageous heretics, disciples of 
 Amauri de Bene, who were burned at Champeaux, in 
 December 1210, professed exactly the same ideas,^ 
 and there is absolutely nothing to induce the belief 
 that they were in the least acquainted with the 
 doctrines of Joachim. 
 
 Joachim di Flor seems to have already dreamt of 
 poverty as a remedy for the corruption of the age. 
 We are assured that he predicted the appearance of 
 an order composed of spiritual men, which should 
 dominate the earth from sea to sea, and enjoy the 
 vision of the Father ; but Joachim only foresaw what 
 Francis d'Assisi was to realise twenty years later. 
 His order of Flor never acquired any very great 
 importance, while the grave doubts which weighed 
 upon his orthodoxy after his death, prevented the 
 spread of the belief in his sanctity in a definitive 
 manner, beyond the borders of Calabria. The 
 personality of that strange man, surrounded with a 
 halo of mystery, was, however, deeply imprinted in 
 the memory of his contemporaries. Hence, it was 
 not long before legend claimed him. Innumerable 
 miracles were attributed to him ; he was made to 
 predict revolutions in the Church and in empires. 
 Imagination could now no longer be restrained. 
 Dante formally accorded him a prophet's brevet.* 
 Even now the numerous manuscripts which contain 
 
 ^ Epistle Loquens Dominus Ezechieli^ No. 58 of Saint Germain, 
 last leaf, back. 
 
 2 See the Memoir of M. Haiir^au in the Revue Archeo- 
 logique, December 1864, Fleury, Book Ixxvi. No. 59. 
 
 '' Paradiso, xii. 140-141. 
 
JOACHIM DI FL'OR. 133 
 
 the prophecies ascribed to Joachim present a curioiis 
 spectacle. We see that they have been read with 
 faith and anxiety. The margins are burdened with 
 notes : Nota^ nota^ nota ! Nota bene I Nota mirahilem 
 'prophetiam ! At the bottom of the pages there are 
 figures and calculations : the anxious readers at- 
 tempted to support their terror, and to see whether 
 the redoubtable events announced in the book were 
 soon to be fulfilled.^ 
 
 It is usual to represent Joachim as the author of 
 he EteTiud Gosj^el. The Middle Ages, from the 
 thirteenth century, universally believed, as well as 
 modern critics, that the words Eternal Gosj^el were 
 the title of a secret book, the doctrines of which it 
 was wickedly attempted to substitute for the Gospel 
 of Christ. Doubts arise on this point, insomuch that 
 we see the majority of contemporary authors speak 
 only of such a book vaguely, from hearsa}^ and with- 
 out ever citing it textually ; the more so, when there 
 are to be observed flagrant contradictions upon the 
 nature and origin of the book in their testimony. 
 When we see this undiscoverable volume serve as 
 the aliment of and a pretext for the passions and 
 interests which embroiled the world of the thirteenth 
 centur}', we are sometimes tempted to place it in the 
 same category as the book of the hree Impostors, 
 which, it is very certain, never existed,^ ranking it 
 as one of those chimeras invented by calumny, and 
 always held in reserve against those it was worth 
 while to ruin. Indeed, the words Eternal Gospel, as 
 designating the name of a school, appeared for the 
 first time in the theological world in 1254. This 
 was the time when the quarrels of the University 
 with the mendicant orders, and of the mendicant 
 
 ^ See, for example, the manusci'ipt.s of the okl Latin collec- 
 tion, No. 427. 
 
 -See my Essay oii Averroes and Avciro'is)ii, \>. 21>i\ cl .srry. 
 (^Second Edition). 
 
134 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 orders araoD^ themselves, had reached their fever 
 point. The Eternal Gospel became in that general 
 melee a weapon for the different factions. The Do- 
 minicans reproached the Franciscans with it, and 
 the latter the disciples of Saint Dominic. The Uni- 
 versity, at the instance of Guillaume de Saint Amour, 
 attributed it to the mendicants, and by reason of a 
 singular turning round of public opinion, Guillaume 
 de Saint Amour himself passed as the author of it.^ 
 
 In many respects we are better able to clear up 
 the confusions than contemporaries. This is certain. 
 The Eternal Gosjjel was neither the production of the 
 Dominicans nor the University; it proceeded from 
 that dissident faction of the family of Saint Francis, 
 which, preserving in the midst of the general 
 degeneracy of the order, the spirit of the founder, 
 continued to believe that Seraphic Rule embraced 
 the principle of a regeneration of humanity, a second 
 gospel, superior to the first, both by reason of its 
 perfection and the duration which was assured to it. 
 As to this point, doubt is no longer possible, but as 
 to everything else, what an uncertainty ! Did a 
 book enWWedi The Eternal Gospel evev really exist? 
 If it did exist, who was the author of it ? Has this 
 book been preserved in whole or in parf? Is there 
 any hope of finding it again ? Such are the questions 
 I will attempt to answer by means of certain unpub- 
 lished documents, from which criticism has not yet 
 extracted all the information possible. At all events, 
 seeing that the writings of Joachim have been made 
 the pretext for and have furnished the matter of 
 The Eternal Gospel, a critical examination of the works 
 of Joachim ought to precede all investigation of the 
 subject which now engages us. Such a work not hav- 
 
 ^ See the article of M. Daunon upon John of Parma, in voh 
 XX. of the Literary History of France^ p. 23, et seq., and the 
 additions to the articles of Guillaume de Saint Amour and 
 Gerard d'ALbeville, in vol. xxi. p. 448, et seq. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 135 
 
 ing found a place in any collection of either literary 
 or ecclesiastical history, I feel myself constrained to 
 undertake it. 
 
 11. 
 
 Discussion as to the Authrnticity of the 
 Works of Joachim di Flor. 
 
 In a letter in the form of a will, dated in the year 
 1200,1 Joachim, setting forth in detail the state in 
 which he then found his writings, mentions three 
 works as completed : The Concordance of the Old and 
 Neiv Testaments, The Commentary upon the Ajyocalypse, 
 and The Decacho7'd Psalter — " without mentioning," 
 adds he, "a few opuscules against the Jews and the 
 adversaries of the Catholic Faith." 
 
 These three writings are the only great works 
 attributed to Joachim, the authenticity of which 
 can be firmly established. According to the most 
 probable opinion, Joachim died on the oOth March 
 1202; at all events, he died soon after 1200. It 
 cannot then be admitted that in the last two or 
 three years of his life he composed the other works 
 ascribed to him, and which, by themselves alone, 
 form a more voluminous collection than the books 
 whose compilation occupied the whole of his life. 
 Luke, afterwards Archbishop of Cosenza, who was his 
 secretary, does not mention the three works named 
 above.- Guillaume de Saint Amour, in exposing his 
 
 ^ It may be read at the head of the editions of the Concord- 
 ance of the Old and New Testaments (Veiiice, 1519), and of 
 The (Jommentarij on the Apocalypse (Venice, 1527), or in 
 D'Argentru's Collectio Judicorum^ i. p. 121, or in the Bol- 
 landists, loc. cit. p. 104. M. Preger tliinks this letter was 
 fabricated about the middle of the thirteenth century, together 
 with Joachim's apocryphal writings. Ihit the Fourth liateran 
 Council (1215) had it before them (Labbe, (,'o«c., part i. col. 145). 
 
 -' Acta S. S. ; loc. cit., p. !)3. 
 
136 JOACHIM DI FLOll. 
 
 errors, does not refer to any others.i The cardinals 
 who condemned bis doctrines at Anagni cite only 
 one letter besides these tbree works. Florent,^ 
 Bishop of Saint-Jean-d'Acre, wbo discharged the 
 functions of promoter in this matter, alleges only the 
 three great works. Guillanme d'Auvergne mentions 
 only the Commentary on the Apocalyse and the Con- 
 co7'dance.^ Finally, we shall soon show that the other 
 books which have been added to the works of the 
 holy Abbot have all the intrinsic characteristics of 
 being supposititious. 
 
 The three great authentic works of which we speak 
 were several times printed, and are to be found in a 
 great number of manuscripts. We need not hence 
 describe them. It is only important to observe that 
 these editions were prepared in a very negligent 
 manner, and that there may have slipped into the 
 text comments and additions which did not belong to 
 Joachim. It has likewise to be remarked that the six 
 books of The Commentary on the Apocalypse were pre- 
 ceded by a Liber Introduciorius in Expositionem Ap>o- 
 calypsis, which is often presented as a separate work 
 under the title of Enchiridion, or Apocolypsis Nova} 
 
 The treatise against the Jews, of which Joachim 
 makes mention in his will, appears to be found in 
 a Dresden manuscript,^ and to be connected with 
 The Concordance. 
 
 To the authentic works of Joachim, however, it 
 would seem that we must add two letters : — 
 
 ^ In Martene and Diirand, Amplissima Collectio, vol. ix. 
 col. 1323. See Hist. litt. de la Fr., vol. xxi. p. 474. 
 
 ^ See hereafter, p. 156, et seq. 
 
 ^ De Virtutibus, c. xi. p. 152. (Paris, 1674.) 
 
 ^ Sorbonne MS., No. 1726, fol. 92 back, lines 27, 28 ; fol 103, 
 lines 2 and 3. This same work in No. 427 of the old Latin collec- 
 ti®D is called — I do not know why — Liber de Diversitate Mysteriorum 
 Dei. See De Yisch's Bibl. Cisterc, p. 172. 
 
 ^ Katalog der HandscJiriften der Bibl. zii Dresden, vol. i. ]>. 57. 
 De Visch, Bibl. Cisterciensis, p. 172. Tritheme, No. 389. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 137 
 
 (1.) An unpublished letter addressed to all the 
 faithful, and commencing with these words, — 
 Loquens Dominus Kzechleli PropheUv : it is to be 
 found in the manuscripts 3595 of the old collection, 
 fol. 19, at the back; Saint Germain, 58, last page, 
 at the back ; Sorbonne, 1726, fol. 59. 
 
 (2.) A letter De Articulis Fidei, ad Quemdam Filium 
 suum Joannem, identical with a treatise De Articulis 
 Fidei, is mentioned in the earliest lists of the writings ^ 
 of Joachim. This work is known only through the ex- 
 tract which is to be found in the verbal reports of the 
 commission of Anagui which condemned The Eternal 
 Gospel in 1255, of which reports we shall speak ^ 
 presently. Joachim recommends his disciple to keep 
 the book carefully concealed, so as to avoid* the 
 suspicions of false zealots who seek only pretexts for 
 spreading scandal. We can hence perceive that the 
 esoteric and secret character which Joachim was 
 anxious to give to that writing prevented the multi- 
 plication of copies. It was in this writing, perhaps, 
 that he maintained those doctrines respecting the 
 Trinity, which were opposed to those of Peter 
 Lombard, and drew down upon him the condemna- 
 
 1 Joachim Ahbatis et Florensis ordiiiis Chronologia (Cosenza, 
 1G12), p. 92. Acta S. S. Mali, vol. vii. pp. 103, 105. The Bol- 
 landists give us very unlikely suggestions conceruing this work. 
 
 - It reads thus :— (Sorboime MS., 1725, fol. 104.) " Idem habetur 
 apertius in libello ipsius Joachim, ' De articulis fidei,' descripto 
 ad quemdam (ilium suum Johannem, quod opus suspectum eat ex 
 ipso prologo, ubi sic inclpit dicens : ' llogasti me attentius, fili 
 Johannes, ut tibi compilatos traderem articulos tidei, et notarem 
 ilia qua3 occurrerent Scripturaium loca, in quibus solent simplices 
 frequenter errare. Ecce in subjects pagina invenies quod i)etisti. 
 Tene apud te, et lege sub silentio, observans ne perveniat ad 
 mauus eorum qui rapiunt verba de convallibus, et currunt cum 
 clamore, ut vocentur abhoniinibus Rabbi, habentes quidem 
 speciem pictatis, virtutem autem ejus peuitus al)nci;antt'S.' Ecce 
 qualiter in hoc prologo vult iste Joachim articulos iidei legi in 
 abscondito, more hiureticorum (pii in conventiculis dogmatizant. 
 Item iidiibit uo tractatus suus veniat ad mauus magistrDrum, cpios 
 etiein tam irapudenter quam sqpirbc vituper^t," 
 
138 JOACHIM DI FLOE. 
 
 tiou of the Fourth Lateran CounciL^ The reports of 
 Anagni, again, contain two fragments of the two 
 works, the one extracted from the first chapter, 
 entitled, De Fide Trinitatis, the other from the last, 
 entitled, Confessio Fidei Ejus, id est Joachim (fol. 185) ; 
 but these extracts contain only theological quibbles, 
 possessing but a mediocre interest for the critic. 
 
 We ought, perhaps, also to regard as belonging 
 to Joachim two hymns upon Paradise, the one in 
 sapphic, the other in trochaic verse, which are to 
 be found in the editions of his works subsequent 
 to The Decachord Psalter. The second of these 
 compositions, being the recital of a journey in the 
 supernatural world, is curious, seeing that it pre- 
 ceded The Divine Comedy} 
 
 Let us now enter upon the discussion of the works 
 which have been ascribed to Joachim, and which 
 criticism may or should combat.^ 
 
 The next in importance is The Commentary on 
 Jeremiah,"^ presumably dedicated to the emperor, 
 
 1 The Council appears to refer to a separate treatise, " Libellum 
 sive Tractatum quern Abbas Joachim editit contra Magistriim 
 Petrum Lombardum, de unitate seu essentia Trinitatis." Labbe 
 Cone, vol. xi. pt. 1, pp. 143, et seq. 240 ; D'Argentre Coll. JuJ. I. 
 pp. 120, 121. Vide De Visch, Blbl. Cisterc, p. 173 ; Tritheme, De 
 Script E(xl., No. 389 ; De Lauro in I)e Hiso, pp. 150, 151. 
 
 - Neither M. Ozanam nor Labitte nor MrThos. Wright, I believe, 
 mention this Hymn in their works on the origin of Dante's triology. 
 
 ^ De Lauro, Tritheme, and De Visch make some remarks, but 
 they are too indefinite to discuss. 
 
 •^ There appeared subsequently to the primary composition of 
 this work, in the Zeitschrift fiir Wissenschaftliche Theolofjic, of 
 M. Hilgenfeld (2d year, Jena, 1859) a memoir of M. Karl 
 Friedrich, relating to that Commentary, and The Commenlary on 
 Isaiah, also attributed to Joachim. As regards the question of 
 authenticity, M. Friderich has arrived at the same conclusion as 
 us. M. Volter accepts that thesis as proved. — Zeitschrift fiir 
 Kirchengeschrichte of Brieger (4th year, Gotlia, 1880), p. 367, et 
 seq. Without being acquainted with either M. Friderich's re- 
 searches or mine, IM. J. A. Schricider attained a like result 
 (^Joachim vo7i Flor, p. 27, et seq.) 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOK. 180 
 
 Henry VL, and printed several times at Venice. 
 The character of this writing is very different from 
 that of the authenticated works of Joachim. When 
 Joachim would be prophetic, he is so in a sober 
 and reserved manner. He mentions no one by name : 
 events are hardly even indicated: the indefinite- 
 ness of the Biblical style permits him to make use of 
 those vague phrases which become prophetic when 
 events fit in with them, and do not compromise 
 when the facts take an opposite turn. The Com- 
 7nentary on Jeremiah, on the contrary, is precise in 
 the extreme. The allusions in it to the events of 
 the thirteenth century are indubitable. Frederick 
 II., who was only two years old at the time when 
 Joachim must have written this work, is already 
 designated in it by the metaphors usual to his 
 enemies, — vipera^ recjulus. His reign is represented 
 as that of a tyrant inimical to the Church, destroyer 
 of its privileges, persecutor of its ministers, a new 
 Evilmerodach, who is seated in the Temple and has 
 himself worshipped like a God. 
 
 " In his infancy," says the prophet, " he shall appear meek 
 and gentle, he shall be suckled at the breasts of the Spouse of 
 the Lamb ; but, in course of time, like another Belshazzar, 
 shall follow the impulse of his passions, and with women shall 
 profane the sacred vessels of the Temple of God. But, if you 
 ask me, what shall be the end, listen to Isaiah, who will instruct 
 you. A sword not human shall overwhelm him. A sword, 
 which is none other than the power of the word of God, shall 
 exterminate him, so that you may know that God does not 
 require the hands of men to drag that monster from his lair." 
 
 The Guelph of the thirteenth century betrays 
 
 himself in these curious words : — 
 
 "The Lord shall unsheath his sword, for the rule of the 
 Germans has ever been harsh and cruel to us. It must needs, 
 then, that the Lord shall destroy him with the rage of his fury, 
 so that all kings shall tremble at the noise of his fall." ^ 
 
 * Fol. AQ and G2 (Venice, \h2h). This edition appears to be 
 curtailed in some passages. The text cited by Don Girvaise 
 (Histoire Ue L' Able Joachim, p. 35, et scq.) is more complete. 
 
140 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 Aud iu anotlier place : — 
 
 " The army of the Chaldeans fighting against Jerusalem and 
 Jiidah, with the exception of Lachis and Azecha, represents the 
 Germans and other persecutors armed against the Roman Church 
 and the Latin cities of Italy, with the exception of those who 
 are strong in their numbers, or who know how to arrange 
 themselves behind their wallsJ The schism between the Church 
 and the empire, commenced by the Normans, shall be consum- 
 mated by the Germans, whose fleets shall submerge the liberty 
 of the Pontiffs, in such a manner that the empire which served 
 at first to raise the Church shall, in its last days, work its ruin." 
 
 "The rule of the Chaldeans," says he again, "tends to anni- 
 hilation. The eagle shall become, as says the Erythr8en Sybil, a 
 leopard in its ferocity, a fox in its cunning, a lion by its terror. 
 Under the pretext of repressing the Patarins, he will treacher- 
 ously march against the Church, and, in spite of the resistance 
 of Italy, in spite of the anathemas of the Church, he shall satisfy 
 his rage. How many will be the evils that shall then fall upon 
 Liguria and Italy ? It will be much easier to feel than to 
 describe them. Under the combined efforts of the Germans 
 and the French, all the Eoman nobility shall perish ; the Pontiff 
 shall be banished, the monasteries overthrown, the Christian 
 religion effaced from the earth." 
 
 France excites no less the apprehensions of the 
 ultramontane prophet : — 
 
 " Let the Church be on her guard ! The alliance of France is 
 a reed which pierces the hand of him who leans on it." "^ 
 
 The persons most disposed to acknowledge the 
 gift of prophecy in Joachim will no doubt find it 
 difiicult to admit that he could have entered to such 
 an extent into the passions of a century, the first years 
 of which he had only seen. Anotlier and last proof 
 will suffice, if it stand in need of it, to demonstrate 
 our thesis. The work in question was dedicated to 
 
 1 " Excei)tis illis quae vel fortes populariter sunt, vel quae esse 
 appetunt in suis munitionibus singulares." 
 
 * Fol. 58, back, compare 53, back. 
 
 ^ Videat generalis ecclesia si non fiet ei baculus arundineus 
 potentia gallicana, cui siquldem si quis nititur perforat munum 
 suam. Of. Isaiah xxvi. 6. Vuk the Chronicle De Rebus in Italia 
 Gestis^ published by M. Huillard-Breholles, p, 257 ; cf. ibid. p. xxxyi, 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 141 
 
 Ilenvy VI., who died in 1197. It must cousequently 
 have been composed before that date ; still, in the 
 list of his works, which was prepared in 1200, 
 Joachim makes no mention of The Commentary on 
 Jeremiah. 
 
 The Commentary on Jeremiah ought certainly to 
 be regarded as a production of tlie school which 
 sprang from the order of Saint Francis, who, as 
 we shall soon see, sought, about the middle of the 
 thirteenth century, to avail himself of the name of 
 Joachim in order to ensure the triumph of his 
 doctrines. The ideas of Franciscan Joachimites are 
 to be found on every page. The year 1200, conform- 
 ably to the theories of that school, is given as the 
 termination of the great affliction which shall close 
 the reign of Christ, and open that of the Holy Spirit.^ 
 Allusions to the two great mendicant orders, the 
 future institution of which, it is averred, Joachim had 
 predicted, frequently recur. Nay, as though the 
 party which attributed its opinions to Joachim was 
 fearlul that thoughts expressed in so enigmatical 
 a manner might not sufficiently attain the end pro- 
 posed, some adepts of the party took care to explain 
 the obscure passages in an opuscule which has been 
 preserved to us, in No. 836 of Saint Germain, under 
 this title : Verba Quondam de Dictis Joachim Abhatis 
 Exjylanativa super Jeremiam. In this, each anathema 
 is distinctly distinguished, and each menace applied 
 to a proper name. 
 
 Our argument shall have been proved to demon- 
 stration when it is seen what an important place the 
 apocryphal productions of Joachim held in the school 
 of The Eternal Gospel. The recently published - 
 " Chronicle " of Fra Salimbene, a Franciscan of the 
 tliirteenth century, furnishes us with important light 
 on the subject. In it the commentary of Joachim on 
 Jeremiah is frequently cited. The first knowledge 
 1 Fol. 45, l):ick, 58, back, 62. - Pariu.i, 1S57. 
 
142 JOACHIM Di FLOR. 
 
 that Salimbene bad of it was in 1248.^ The irrecon- 
 cilable feud between Frederick II., and the Italian and 
 Pontifical party, beginning about 1239, the date of the 
 compilation of The Commentary on Jeremiah^ is thus 
 fixed within sufficiently narrow hmits.^ Commentaries 
 on Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, and the minor prophets 
 were printed several times at Venice, and are to be 
 found in several manuscripts.^ These works are 
 open to the same objections as The Commentary on 
 Jeremiah. It is not to be credited that Joachim could 
 have composed so many works in the space of two 
 or three years. Moreover, anachronisms and traces 
 of conjecture are frequently to be found in them. 
 
 The De Oneribus Frovinciarum^ presented as a dis- 
 tinct work in No. 836 of Saint Germain and in 
 some others,4 is an extract from The Commentary 
 on Isaiah, The author groups into provinces all the 
 cities of the world that are known to him by name, 
 and addresses to each of them a word of prophecy. 
 Independently of the interest which such a work 
 possesses in respect of geography, Ave find in it a 
 great amount of historical information on the affairs 
 of the first half of the thirteenth century. The author 
 is carried away by the same preoccupations as the 
 commentator on Jeremiah. Animosity to the house 
 of Hohenstaufen manifests itself everywhere. Sicily 
 is the furnace of tyranny and error (alumpna tyran- 
 
 'Pp. 102, 122, 176, 389. 
 
 " The movement of Hall in Suabia (Fleury, Ixxxiii. 3), and the 
 Epistola Fratris Arnoldi, Ordhns Prcedicatorum^ de Gorrectione 
 EcclesicB, published by \Vinkelmann (Berlin, 1865), present the 
 German, Ghibelline, and Dominican counterpart of the same 
 movement. Vide M. Volter's INlemoir in the Zeitsclirift fur 
 KircheiigescJiichte of Brieger, vol. iv. 1880, p. 360, et seq. 
 
 3 Vide C. de Visch, Bihl Cisterc, pp. 172, 173 ; Bollandista, 
 Acta, S. S. Maii, vol. vii. pp. 103, 105; Fabricius, Bihl. Med. et 
 Inf, Latin ^ vol. iv. pp. 40, 41 ; Lectionum Memorahilium et 
 Recoiiditarum Centenarii XVI., vol. i. p. 488, et seq. 
 
 ^ Be Visch, p. 173; De Paso, pp. 122, 153, thou<>h wrongly, 
 admits it as such 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 143 
 
 nidis et erroris). Calabria is the cavern of worms, tlie 
 hole of vipers.^ Umbria and Spain shall see arise, 
 like two stars, two orders clothed in sackcloth and 
 haircloth, destined to preach the Gospel of the King- 
 dom. The devil will raise up against them a 
 ferocious beast, to wit, the sect of the Patarins.^ 
 
 We must refer to the same cateororv the Commen- 
 taries attributed to Joachim on the prophecies of 
 Merlin and the Erythra^n Sybil, likewise dedicated 
 to Henry VI." They can be read in No. 3319 of the 
 old collections, and in part in No. 865 of Saint 
 Victor.^ Tiiese texts, anything but uniform, are cut 
 up according to the caprice of the different com- 
 pilers, and it is difficult to lix their identity. Thus 
 No. 3319 contains two continuous different versions 
 of the commentary in question. Moreover, it is re- 
 markable that Merlin and the Erythra3n Sybil are 
 frequently cited in The Commentary on Jeremiah. 
 Here again, Franciscan ideas shine out every 
 moment. Fra Salimbene knew the whole of these 
 apocryphal prophecies, and contrasts them with 
 The Commentary on Jereniiali? 
 
 ' Fol. 83, ba'k, 84. 
 
 ^ Fol. 80. V. 1 will now aiiduce some other passages about the 
 Patarins : " Hseresis Patareua in Lombardias terminis invalesceus 
 adeo siios circuinquaqiie stiinulos {)ravitatis extendit ut iion minus 
 sit infesta Catliolicis (juam oliin propbetis Domini fuit Atiialia filia 
 Jezabftlis, etc. . . . Lombardorum gens inipia . . . Deo detestabilis 
 . . . quia qut^s de funio putei, doctrina scilicet seculari, luureticos 
 inibuic et aerein ecclesiastica? puritatis infecit, a3tcruiie rhomphiieara 
 ultionis necesse est ut non evadat . . . Verona nutrix li?eresis 
 dirum deflebit excidiura filiorum. (Fol. 81, back, 82.) " Ut si 
 campus tribulis et urticis, scilicet Patarea^is, (lazaris et aliis 
 schisniaticis in Tholosa, Livonia (^v'c) et Ausonia, et Liguria 
 diversisque partibus per Italiani occupctur, quuni de fumo erroris 
 eorura partes etiam remotissiin;e denigrantur. (Fol. 93, back.) 
 
 •' De Visch, pp. 172, 173 ; Be Lai/j-o, in De Riso, p. 151. 
 
 ■* Perchance in the Joachimite MS. of St Omer. See supple- 
 ment to the catalogue of that library, by M. Theodore Duchet. 
 U'-vm Critique, Nov. 15, 187"., pj). 32:3, M24. 
 
 5 Pp. 175, 176 ; Cf. p. 106, el seq. 
 
144 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 The De Onerihus PropJietarum is a commeutary 
 supposed to be addressed to Henry VI. on certain 
 chapters of Nahum, Habakkuk, Zachariah, and 
 Malachi. It is to be found in the manuscripts 3595 
 of the old collections, 836 of Saint Germain, and 
 865 of Saint Victor (incomplete) and in the manu- 
 script 278 of Saint Onier.^ It was printed at Venice 
 in 1519. It is evident that the intention of the forgers, 
 in dedicating these apocryphal pieces to Henry VI., 
 was to give them a greater appearance of authenti- 
 city. It may be added that the dedicatory epistles 
 are so indecorous, and so full of brutal menaces, 
 that the tone alone would suffice to demonstrate 
 their falsity. 
 
 In Nos. 58 of Saint Germain (the last page but 
 one), and 3595 of the old collections, fol. 22, are to 
 be found, subjoined to other works of Joachim, an 
 opuscule, without either title or the name of the 
 author, in the form of a synoptic table, and com- 
 mencing with these words : Helyas jam veiiit, et non 
 cognoverunt cum. It is an expose of the whole of 
 Joachim's philosophy of history, symbohcally con- 
 nected with the opening of the seven seals of the 
 Apocalypse. 
 
 Fra Salimbene cites it under the title of Book of 
 Images.^ There, the end of the New Testament is 
 fixed in the year 1260. Then shall appear Elias, 
 while the Roman Church, Avhich shall have been 
 destroyed by the emperor, shall be re-established. 
 The last pope named in this opuscule is Innocent III., 
 who reigned from 1198 to 1216. The author does 
 not seem to employ a,ny other artifice to have it be- 
 lieved that he is Joachim. Fra Salimbene declares he 
 received at Hyeres, from Hugues de Digne, the great 
 Joachimite, and copied at Aix, for John of Parma, 
 a commentary of Joachim on the four Gospels.*^ 
 
 1 De Visch, p. 173 ; Ducliet, loc. cit. " Compare Salimbene, p. 4. 
 •i Pp. 85, 124, 224. •* Pp. 124, 125. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 145 
 
 This work exists in a Dresden manuscript.^ It is un- 
 doubtedly a supposititious writing. Cli. D. Viscli^ 
 refers to the existence of a work of Joachim, entitled 
 De Seminibus Scriptuarum, in a Cistercian convent, 
 near Saragossa. The learned M. Theodore Duchet 
 found that work in No. 278 of the Saint Omer library.'^ 
 The real title is De Semine Scriptuarum. I would 
 recommend some young investigator to examine that 
 writing, and to ascertain what is its character and 
 the degree of its authenticity. 
 
 The manuscript of Saragossa contained, it seems, 
 a Joachimite commentary on The Testament of the 
 Twelve Patriarchs, which only became known to the 
 Latins through the translation of Robert of Lincoln, 
 made about 1242. The important Dresden manu- 
 script, A. 121, contains (p. 235, et seq.) two other 
 Joachimite opuscules,* a minute examination of which 
 might also be of moment. The Criticism on the 
 Prop>hecies of Cy^^ilhis, printed at Venice in 1517, and 
 of wliich several copies are in existence, is evidently 
 an apocryphal Avork also. The prophecies on the 
 popes, attributed to Joachim, which enjoyed in the 
 Middle Ages such great popularity, deserve even less 
 to be discussed. The role of prophet being once as- 
 signed to the Abbot of Flor, his name was used as a 
 shelter, behind which ranged themselves those whose 
 enthusiasm and policy engaged them to foretell the 
 future. A uniform sentiment seems to inspire the 
 authors of these singular compositions, and imparts a 
 great unity to the apocryphal works of Joachim, to 
 wit : hatred of the Court of Rome, which is identified 
 
 ^ Kataloq der Handschr. der Bihl. zu Dresden, i. p. 57 (Li^pz., 
 1882); De Y isch, Bibl. Cisterc, y>. 172; Trithdme, No. 389; De 
 Jmuj-o in Be liiso, p. 151. The Be Septeni Si<iillis (De Visch and 
 Trithfenie, loc. ait.) seems tu be au extract Iroui it. {KaLaloy^ loc. 
 cit.) 
 
 2 0/>. Cit, p. 178. 
 
 3 Vide Revue Critique, Nov. 15, 187?>, \). 323. 
 
 * Kalcdoy der lhuid6clir. der Bihl. zu Biesden, i. )). 57. 
 
 K 
 
146 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 with the Courtisane of the Apocalypse; hatred of the 
 pope, who is identified with the Antichrist ; hatred 
 of the emperor, who is represented as the oppressor 
 of Italy. All of them betray the hand of a sect, 
 dominated by the idea of thorough reform and of 
 declared revolt against the Church. For our present 
 purpose, it is sufficient for us to have established that 
 the responsibility for these bizarre productions can- 
 not be traced up to the Abbot of Flor, and to have 
 proved that three great works, namely. The Concord- 
 ance of the Old and New Testaments^ The Exposition of 
 the Apocalypse, The Decachord Psalter, and some letters 
 or fragments of secondary importance, deserve only 
 to bear the name of Joachim. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Exalted Franciscan School— John of Parma. 
 
 The discussion of the writings of the Calabrian 
 prophet, which we have just submitted, should sutiice 
 to prove that none of the authentic or apocryphal 
 works to which his name is attached bear the title of 
 Eternal Gospel. Although scholars such as Tillemont, 
 Crevier, and several others have supposed that 
 Joachim wrote a work so named, yet we shall pre- 
 sently demonstrate that that proceeds from some con- 
 fusion. It appears even that at no time did Joachim 
 very clearly avow the seditious ideas with which he 
 was subsequently charged. The Fourth Lateran 
 Council (1215) in unanimously condemning the oppo- 
 sition that he raised against Peter Lombard in re- 
 gard to a point in metaphysics, acknowledge, at 
 the same time, his submission to the Church and his 
 perfect docility. 
 
 Joachim might never have acquired the reputa- 
 tion of being more than a second-rate theologian 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 147 
 
 and a bold exegete, if an unexpected piece of good 
 luck had not rescued his name from obKvion, and 
 associated it with one of the most daring tentatives, 
 the particulars of which have been handed down to 
 us in the history of Christian reformers. 
 
 AVe have not yet had pointed out to us by any- 
 one the complete historical significance of the order 
 of Saint Francis. On the one hand, the monastic in- 
 stitution which has monopolised the attention of the 
 historians of rehgious orders, and, on the other, the 
 incomparable poetic outburst which has particularly 
 engaged men of taste and imagination, have pre- 
 vented the social and political aspirations which 
 were concealed under this apparently purely ascetic 
 movement from being appreciated at their true 
 value. The fact is, that from the very beginning 
 of Christianity people never once dared to con- 
 ceive such hopes. The book of the Conformities^ 
 by Bartholomew of Pisa, is only an isolated Avork : it 
 is the tardy manifesto of the secret thoughts of the 
 Order. The aim of Saint Francis was not to add a 
 new rule to the ah-eady long Hst of monastic rules ; 
 his aim was to realise the Christian ideal by show- 
 ing what could be achieved by literally accepting 
 the Sermon on the Mount as a law of life. At the 
 bottom of the Franciscan tentative, there was the 
 hope of a general reformation of the world, a restora- 
 tion of the Gospel. It was admitted that, for twelve 
 hundred years, the Gospel had not been much acted 
 upon ; that the essential precept of Jesus, the re- 
 nunciation of worldly goods, had not been under- 
 stood ; that, after centuries of widowhood. Poverty 
 had at length found a spouse.^ What was this but 
 to avow that the birth of Francis of Assisi was the 
 beginning of a new era for Christianity and hinnan- 
 ity.2 These audacious pretensions, subordinated in 
 
 ^ Dante, Paradiso, xi. 58, et seq. 
 
 " Vide Fioretlij chaj). xvi., towards the end. 
 
148 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 the founder by great mystical tenderness, and often 
 by exquisite tact, unveiled themselves only by 
 degrees ; but the idea that holiness consisted 
 entirely in the renunciation of property was bound 
 to bear its fruit. When it was maintained that man 
 had a right to seek for a more exalted perfection 
 than that whose secret is possessed by the Church, 
 was not this the same as saying that the Church 
 was coming to an end, so as to make room for the 
 society which should teach that new perfection*? 
 Even during the life of the founder, and in particular 
 at the first Chapter held after his death, two parties 
 were discernible in the Order. The one, incapable 
 of sustaining the superhuman enterprise of which 
 the mendicant founder had dreamed, and wiser 
 according to the flesh than the spirit of the seraphic 
 institute would allow, believed that the primitive 
 rigour of the rule was beyond the power of man, 
 that this rule admitted of modificatiou, and that the 
 pope could dispense with it. The other, with sur- 
 prising audacity, maintained that the work of Saint 
 Francis had not yet borne all its fruit, that this work 
 was superior to the pope and the Church of Rome, 
 and that the rule was a revelation which depended on 
 God alone. At the bottom of their hearts there was, 
 without their avowing it, the belief that the appear- 
 ance of Francis was neither more nor less than the 
 advent of a second Christ, as great as the first — 
 greater, even, on account of his poverty. Hence that 
 strange legend in which the Seraph of Assisi, equal 
 in everything to Christ, is placed above him, be- 
 cause he possessed nothing of his own, not even the 
 things needful for use. Hence again that haughtily 
 avowed pretension that the institute of Saint Francis 
 was destined to absorb all the other orders, to sup- 
 plant the universal Church itself, and to become the 
 definitive form of human society on the eve of its 
 dissolution. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 149 
 
 These lofty ideas, restrained by the good sense 
 as well as by the worldly enough spirit of the 
 mnjority, were the secret of a select number when 
 the election of John Borelli or Buralli to the dignity 
 of General in 1247, twentj-one years after the death 
 of the Patriarch of Assisi, led to an irruption, and 
 gave a definite name to the new doctrine. John 
 Buralh*, born at Parma about 1209, was the most 
 pronounced representative of the party which, 
 anxious for the literal accomplishment of the Al- 
 vernian revelations, did not recoil before the most 
 exaggerated social applications of the principle of 
 poverty. He rejected all the interpretations of 
 the rule, even those which had been proposed by 
 doctors and sanctioned by popes. Persuaded that 
 the institution of Saint Francis embraced the future 
 of the Church and of the human species, he con- 
 ceived the project of reviving the ideas of the 
 founder, which the laxity of his disciples had 
 allowed to fall into oblivion. The commencement 
 of his generalat was a kind of return to the purest 
 form of the Franciscan ideal. The rule was again 
 put vigorously into force all round. There liap- 
 pened then to the Order of Assisi what happens to 
 all religions in their origin. The real disciples of the 
 founder — the saints, the ascetics — became soon an 
 embarrassment. In the years following the death 
 of Francis, the inheritors of his spirit were almost 
 all exiled or imprisoned ; one or two were even 
 assassinated. John of Parma recalled the banished 
 saints. The legend of Francis was taken up again 
 and embelHshed.i Report said that a will, which 
 insisted even more strictly upon the requirements 
 of the rnle, was supposed to be dictated by Francis 
 when stigmatised. By his lofty piety, his contempt 
 for earthly greatness, his aversion to the worldly 
 
 ' The compilation of the narrative of the Three Companions 
 dates from the year 1247. 
 
150 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 glare of Ecclesiastical dignities, John of Parma 
 appeared for some time to the zealots of the Order 
 the living image of their sainted founder. The 
 nine years that his generalat lasted were the reign 
 of a pious coterie, which reign has been vividly 
 depicted to us in the memoirs of one of the affih- 
 ated, the artless and amiable Fra Salimbene, which 
 were long ago given to the public.^ After Francis 
 d'Assisi, Joachim was the recognised oracle of this 
 small school. His writings were eagerly read and 
 devoutly copied by the latter. The Abbot of Flor, 
 who had left only in Calabria some obscure dis- 
 ciples, found thus, in another Order, a devoted family 
 and ardent adherents. 
 
 There can be no doubt that we have here the 
 origin of The Eternal Gospel. As early as the 
 fourteenth century, Nicholas Eymeric, the Domini- 
 can, in his Directorum Inquisitorum, designates John 
 of Parma as the author of the book in question, 
 and this opinion has continued to be that of 
 almost all Ecclesiastical critics and historians. The 
 efforts put forth by Wadding and Sbaraglia, the 
 authors of the literary history of the Franciscans, 
 with a view to efface a blot of heresy from a 
 superior of their Order, have not succeeded in ob- 
 scuring a truth, the certainty of which goes even the 
 length of demonstration.^ There remains, never- 
 theless, a multitude of questions which have yet to 
 be solved. Does the book of The Eternal Gospel 
 exist in any collection of manuscripts % If so, what 
 is its nature '? What portions of the compilation 
 are to be attributed respectively to the master and 
 to his disciple, Gerard de Borgo San-Donnino, who, 
 according to Fra Salimbene, was the sole author 
 of the work ? These are the questions upon which 
 manuscript documents throw much light. We hope 
 
 ^ See in particular pp. 98, et seq. ; 101, et seq. ; lOi, 317, ei seq 
 * Vide M. Daunou's article, previously quoted. 
 
JOACHIM Dl FLOR. 151 
 
 to show that the fragments of The Eternal Gospel, 
 and the notes of the trial wliich was occasioned by it, 
 have come down to us. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Original Documents which serve to elucidate 
 THE Question of the Eternal Gospel. 
 
 These documents are preserved in two manuscripts 
 from the hbrary of the old Sorbonne, now tlie National 
 Library (Sorbonne collection, No. 1726, fourteenth 
 century; 1706, fifteenth century), and in a manu- 
 script belonging formerly to the College of Navarre, 
 noAV the Mazarine Library (No. 391, fifteenth century). 
 These manuscripts have not altogether remained 
 unknown to critics. The two learned Dominicans, 
 Quetif and Echard, who applied themselves as- 
 sidiously to making minute abstracts from the manu- 
 scripts of the Sorbonne, have cited a passage, 
 incidentally, it is true, from No. 1726, in the article 
 on Hugues de Saint-Clier.^ M. Daunou knew of the 
 fragment cited by Quetif and Echard, and made use 
 of it in his excellent work on John of Parma; but he 
 did not have recourse to the original manuscripts. 
 M. Victor Le Clerc perceived immediately the im- 
 portance of the documents contained in this manu- 
 script, and the use to which they could be turned. 
 No. 1706, although much less complete than No. 1726, 
 was made use of by the Bishop of Tulle, Du Plessis 
 d'Argentre, for his great compilation : Collectio 
 JiicUcormn de novis Errorihus (tome 1st, Paris, 1724). 
 M. Haureau also applied himself to an examination 
 of it. As to the actual manuscript deposited at 
 the Mnzarine Library, I am indebted to the lenrned 
 M. Taranne for my knowledge of its existence, who, 
 in view of a catalogue of the manuscripts of the 
 
 ' Scrii>t ord. Pra'fl.^ vol. i. p. 202. 
 
152 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 said library commenced by him, had described it.^ 
 The extracts relating to The Eternal Gospel con- 
 tained in these three mannscripts are four in 
 number : — 
 
 I. — In No. 1726 of the Sorbonne, and only in that 
 manuscript,^ is to be found a writing bearing this 
 title, Exceptiones librorum viri eruditissimi venerahilis 
 JoacJiim, primi Florentium abbatis, de pressiiris secull et 
 mundi fine et signis et terroribus et cermnnis, seuetiam 
 de pseudo-Christis et pseudo-prophetis^ quorum plura 
 scripta sunt in divinis sermonibus, sed idcirco non 
 oinnibus clara, quw multis sunt nodis perplexa et 
 occultis mysteriis. Qucb omnia spiritualiter intellecta 
 ostendunt nobis multa quw futura sunt novissimis 
 diebus, laboriosos sclicet rerum fines et, post multos 
 et magnos agones et certamina, pacem victoribus im- 
 pertiri. 
 
 The work runs on thus for seventy-eight pages, 
 and is abruptly brought to a close without either 
 explicit or conclusion. It is an extract from the 
 authentic or apocryphal works of Joachim, without 
 
 1 Among the extracts from the MSS. of Eorae, by La Porte 
 du Theil, which are in the MS. department of the Bihliotlieque 
 Nationale (vol. vii. p. 823 ; vol. xviii. p. 56), is one which is 
 supposed to come from No. 4380 of Queen Christina, headed 
 " Articuli cujusdam libri, Parisiis combusti, qui dicebatur Evan- 
 gelium sempiternum. Incipit : Sequuntur articuli quadraginta." 
 I fear to identify this , piece with certainty. I recommend it to 
 young students of the Ecole de Rome. 
 
 ^ The Sorbonne MS., 1726, is composed of a collection of frag- 
 ments, each bearing a distinct pagination. The only part inter- 
 esting to us comprises 106 pages. The last page bears the 
 following notes in different handwritings . — " Errores qui con- 
 tinentur in Introductorio in Evangeiiiim eternum, et in libro 
 Concordiarum Joachim;" then: "In hoc volumine continentur 
 extractiones librorum Joachim, et extractiones de Evangelio eterno 
 ct reprobationes eorumdem. Quod volumen est pauperum 
 magistrorum de Sorbona, ex legato magistri Petri de Lemovicis, 
 quondam socii domus hujus. Pretii 20 solidoruni, oOus., inter 
 originalia mix!a sanctorum. Residuum require in papiro post 
 librum de gradibus electorum. Ohatenabitur." 
 
JOACHIM Dl FLOR. 153 
 
 any commentary by the compiler.^ The intention 
 which governed the composition of this collection 
 is evident. The design was to compress within 
 a small volume the complete doctrine of Abbot 
 Joachim. We shall have to inquire whether the 
 compilation contained in the manuscript in question 
 can be identitied with any of the writings which 
 played a part in the affair of 1254. 
 
 II. — The second document which has been found 
 in the three manuscripts cited is an extract from 
 the condemned propositions discovered in the book 
 entitled Inti'odiictorium in Evangeliinn jEternum b}^ 
 the commission of cardinals named by Pope Alex- 
 ander IV., in 1255, to examine the said work. This 
 document was published by Du Plessis d'Argentre 
 from the manuscript, 1706, of the iSorbonne,^ which 
 is the least perfect of the three. In the edition 
 of d'Argentre are several omissions which bear upon 
 some important passages, particularly upon the 
 very precise references Avhich the pontifical censois 
 
 • There are seven works thus abridged : — 
 
 1. From fol. 1 to fol. 38, back, there are extracts from the book 
 of the Concordance between the two Testaments. 
 
 2. From fol. 38, back to fol, 48, there are extracts from the 
 Liber IntrodiLctorius in Apocalypsim, which, as we have ah'eady seen, 
 serves as an introduction to the Exposition of the Apocalypse^ by 
 Joachim. 
 
 3. From fol. 18 to fol. 49, extracts from the Psalterion Deca- 
 chord. 
 
 4. From fol. 49 to fol. 59, extracts from the Commentary on 
 Jeremiah^ attributed to Joachim. 
 
 5. From fol. 59 to fol. 63, back, Joachim's letter referred to 
 above, and ben;iniiing with " Loquens Dominus Kzechieli." It is 
 unfinished, and followed by a small French fragment in another 
 handwriting, ^'Cest que Ten dit es profecies de Joachim escrit ou 
 grant livre de Concordances an Van de grace mil et cc. et iiii^^ et 
 V. serunt bataillies es pleins de Nerbonne de quatre rois esquelcs 
 morront," etc. A lacune then from fol, G5 to fol. 76, extracts 
 from the De Oneribns Frophetarum attributed to Joachim. 
 
 7. From fol 76 to fol. 78, back, extracts from the Commentary 
 on Ezekiel, also attributed to Joachim. 
 ^ Coll. Jud.y i. p. 193, et seq. 
 
154 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 made to the text of the Introductorium. We shall 
 give, whenever it is necessary, the orginal text in 
 notes,^ in order to complete the text of d'Argentre. 
 Accordingly, it behoves lis to restore an important 
 passage omitted by the learned bishop. Towards 
 the end of the twelfth chapter we have these words : 
 "Until that angel who had the sign of the living 
 Grod,^ and appeared about the year 1200 of the in- 
 carnatioD, an angel whom Friar Gerard recognised 
 to be no other than Saint Francis." ^ This Gerard 
 is assuredly Gerard de Borgo San-Donnino, to whom 
 Salimbene ascribes the principal part in the affair 
 of The Eternal Gospel. 
 
 III. — After this enumeration of errors in the 
 Sorbonne manuscript, 1726 (fol. 91, v.), and in the 
 Mazarine manuscript (fol. 86, v.), comes an extended 
 proceS'Verhal of one of the sittings of the Anagni 
 Commission. This fragment, not to be found in 
 No. 1706, has escaped d'Argentre — the whole of it 
 is unpublished : — 
 
 In the year of our Lord 1255, on the 8th of the ides of July, 
 at Anagni, before ns, Eudes, Bishop of Tuscnhim,^ and Friar 
 Hngues,^ cardinal priest, commissioners named by the pope, to- 
 gether with Father Stephen,^ Bishop of Prseneste, who has 
 
 1 This is the opening which has been abreviated by D'Argentre : 
 " Hsec notavimus et extraximus de Introductorio in Evangelmin 
 u^Eetrnum, misso ad dominum papam ab episcopo Parisiensi, et 
 tradito nobis tribus cardinalibus ad inspiciendum ab eodem domino 
 papa, -videhcet O. Tusculanensi, Stephano Prsenestino episcopis, 
 et Hugoni Sauctse Sahince presbytero cardinali." 
 
 2 The Stigmata. 
 
 ^ Item in XII, capitulo, versus finem, ponit hsec verba : " Usque 
 ad ilKim angehmi qui habuit signum Dei vivi, qui apparuit circa 
 MCC. incarnationis doniinicee, quem angelum frater Gerardus 
 vocat et confitetur sanctum Franciscum." 
 
 ■^ Eudes de Chateauroux, who plays an important part in the 
 Life of St. Louis. Vide Fleuiy's Histoire Ecclesiastique, books 
 Lxxxii. No. 33 ; Ixxxiii. No. 45 ; Ixxxv. No. 7. 
 
 ^ This is the famous Ungues de Saint-Cher. 
 
 ^ He was a Hungarian and Archbishop of Stringonia. See 
 Fleury's Hist. Eccl, book Ixxxv. No. 7, 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 155 
 
 excused himself through his chaplain, and remitted to us his 
 powers in this afikir, there appeared Master Florent, Bishop of 
 Acre/ who submitted to us some passages extracted from the 
 books of Joachim, which to him seemed suspicious. And in 
 order to examine these passages, we associated with ourselves 
 two other persons, namely, Friar Bonvalet, Bishop of ... ,^ and 
 Friar Peter, reader to the preachers of Anagni, one of whom 
 scrutinised the original texts of Joachim di Flor, and verified 
 in our presence whether the citations which the said Bishop of 
 Acre read, or caused to be read, by our registrar, were actually 
 found in the aforesaid books. He began thus : — 
 
 First, it is necessary to note the fundamental principle of the 
 doctrine of Joachim. This consists in distinguishing three 
 states in the history of the world. This he sets out in the 
 fourth chapter of the Second book, which commences with 
 these words: Intelligentia vero ilia, saying: Aliud tempus fuit 
 in quo vivehant homines secundum carnem, etc.^ 
 
 ^ Florent or Florentin, Bishop of Acre, afterwards became 
 Archbishop of Aries. In 12G0, wc shall find him jigain condemning 
 the Joachimites at the Council of Aries. Cf. Gallia Christiana, 
 vol. i. p. 569. 
 
 2 The name of the Bishopric is doubtful. Can it be the ecclesia 
 Panidensis of the Oriens Christianus, iii. col. 9C6-7 ? 
 
 3 "Anno Domini Ar^CC^LV'^VIIL, idus Julii, Anagnia? coram 
 nobis, Odone episcopo Tusculano, et fratre Hugone presbytero 
 cardinali, auditoribus et inspectoribus datis a papa, una cum 
 reverend© patre Stephano Prgenestino episcopo, se excusaute jDer 
 proprium capellanum suum, et nobis quantum et hoe vices suas 
 coramittente, comparuit magister Florent ius cpiscopus Acconensis, 
 proponens qusedam verba de libris Joachim extracta, suspecta sibi, 
 ut dicebat, nee publice doguiatizaiida aut pra^dicanda, nee in 
 scriptis redigenda, ut fieret inde doctrina sive liber, pro ut sibi 
 videbatur. Et ad htec audienda et inspicieuda vocavimus una 
 nobiscum duos alios, scilicet fratiem. Bonevaletum, episcopum 
 Pavendenseui, et fratrem Petrum, lectorum fratrum prajdicatorum 
 Anaguise, quorum unus tenebat originalia Joachim de Floren^^i 
 monasterio, et inspiciebat coram nobis utrum ha^c esseut in 
 priedictis libris quai prtedictus episcopus Acconensis legebat et 
 legi faciebat per tabellionem nostruu), et incipiebat sic : 
 
 "Primo notandum est fundamentum doetrinoi Jonchim, Et 
 proposuit tres status totius Seculi IIII, capitulo secundi libii, quod 
 incipit : Litelligentia vero ilia, etc., dicens : 'Aliud tcmpus iuit in 
 quo vivehant homines secuiuiem carnem, hoc est usque ad carneni, 
 cui initiatio facta, est in Adam.'" This jtassage really occurs in 
 the Concordance^ p. 8, Venice Edition, 1519. 
 
156 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 What follows is principally composed of a series 
 of passages extracted from the authentic works of 
 Joachim, that is to say, from the Concordance of the 
 Apocalypsis Nova^ or Liber Intro duciorius in Apoca- 
 lypsim, and from The Decachord Psalter, with a criticism 
 of the erroneous propositions which are therein to 
 be met. Again and again we find citations from a 
 commentator on Joachim, named Brother Gerardus,' 
 
 ^ 1 here quote the chief passages concerning this important 
 personage. 
 
 Fol. 94 of the MS. 1726, " Quod exponens frater G. scripsit. 
 'Hsec abominatio erit pseudopapa, ut habitur alibi.' Et istud 
 ' alibi ' reperitur longe infra, v. libro Concordise de Zacharia pro- 
 pheta, ubi dicitur : ' In Evangelio dicitur : Qiiuni videritis abomina- 
 tioiiem desolationis quse dicta est a Daniele,'" etc. . . . Rursus et 
 ibi frater G. " Hsec abominatio quldam papa erit simoniaca labe 
 respersus, qui circa finem sexti temporis obtinebit in sede, sicut 
 scribit in quodam libello ille qui fuit minister hujus operis." 
 
 Fol. 96, back, after an extract from the Commentary of the 
 Apocalypse, " Hucusque verba Joachim et fratris Gerardi." 
 
 Fol. 99. " Item habitur per notulam fratris Gerardi super prin- 
 cipium ejusdem capituli Danielis, ubi dicit sic frater Gerardus : 
 ' HsBC tribulatio, quae erit talis qualis nunquam fait, debet fieri, 
 ut ex multis locis apparet tarn in hoc libro quam in aliis, circa 
 M.CC.LX. annum incarnationis dominic^e ; post quam revela- 
 bitur Antichristus. Haec tribulatio erit in corporalibus et 
 spiritualibas niaxirae. Sed tribulatio maxima quae statim sequetur 
 interposito tamen cujusdem spatio quantulse curaque pacis, erit 
 niapis in spiritualibus ; unde erit pericalosior quam prima.' " 
 
 Fol. 100, back, " Super hoc Gerardus in glossa : in hoc 
 niysterio vocat terram scripturam prioris Testamenti, aquam 
 scripturam novi Testamenti, ignem vero scripturam Evangelii 
 aeterni." 
 
 Ibid. "Super hoc glossa fratris Gerardi: 'Declaratio est ejus 
 quod dicitur. Evaugelium aeternum in secundo libro Psalterii 
 decern chordariim, scilicet xix. capitulo, quod incipit: In prima 
 sane tempore.^ ''' 
 
 Fol. 102. "Notula fratris Gerardi: 'In hoc loco vir indutus 
 lineis, qui fuit minister hujus operis, loquitur de se et de duobus 
 qui secuti sunt eum statim post M.CC"™- annum incarnationis 
 dominicse ; quos Daniel dicit se vidisse super ripara fluminis ; 
 quorum unus dicitur in Apocalypse Angelus habensfalcem acutam 
 et alius dicitur Angelus qui habuit signum Dei vivi, per quern 
 Deus renovavit apostolicam vitam.' Idem ibidem, super illud 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOil. 157 
 
 who is no other than Gerard de Borgo vSan-Donm'no, 
 whose name Ave have abeady found in the second 
 document above mentioned. Later on, we will draw 
 conclusions from all this. 
 
 IV. — The fourth document is only to be found in 
 No. 1706 of the Sorbonne. D'Argen'tre has published 
 -it from this manuscript, together with some errors 
 and omissions.! M. Preger has pubhshed it from 
 two Munich manuscripts.^ It is a new enumeration 
 of the errors contained in The Eternal Gospel, 
 errors identical with those which are attributed by 
 Nicholas Eymeric to John of Parma ; ^ but Nicholas 
 Eymeric contents himself with announcing the errors 
 without saying whence they are extracted, whilst 
 our manuscript furnishes on this point important 
 indications. Usserius and Meyenberg* have re- 
 produced from the chronicle of Henry of Hereford 
 a text similar to that of our manuscript, much 
 less correct in general, but more complete towards 
 the end. In fact, instead of being satisfied, like the 
 text of d'Argentre, with the errors drawn from the 
 fourth book of tlie second part, the text of Meyen- 
 berg, agreeing with that of Preger, distinguishes two 
 treatises in the fourth book,^ points out the errors of 
 verbum Evangelium Regni^ dicit similiter Gerardus in notula : 
 ' Evangelium regni vocat Evangelium spirituale, quod beatus 
 Joachim vocat Evangelium a3tcrnum, quod in adventu Helysc 
 prsedicari oportet omnibus gentibus, ct tunc veniet consumniutio ! ' " 
 
 Fol. 102, back. "Dicit frater Gerardus in notula, ' Iste doctor 
 sive angelus apparuit circa JM.CC annum incarnationis dominicce, 
 hoc est ille liber de quo loquitur hie, in quo vii. tonitrua locuta 
 sunt voces suas, qua? sunt mysteria vii. signaculorum.' " 
 
 1 Coll. Jud. 1 d. 164, etseq. 
 
 - Abhandlungen of the Munich Academy, vol. xii. 3d part, 
 p. 33 et seq. 
 
 3 Direct-inq., pp. 188-89 (Romse, 1578). 
 
 ^"De pseudo Evangelio seterno" (prseside J. A. Schmidt), 
 p. 11, et seq (Helmstadt, 1725). 
 
 'Instead of "De quarto libro hujus duo errores extrahi 
 possunt" (D'Argentre), we must read, " De quarto libro hujus 
 partis, in primo tractatu, duo errores extrahi possnnt." 
 
158 JOACHiM Dl FLOR. 
 
 both, then passes on to the fifth book, and distin- 
 guishes there five treatises: one treatise — De septem 
 Diebus ; a second, De Jobo ; a third, De Joseph et 
 pincerna cui somninm apparnit ; a fourth, De tribus 
 geueribus hominum, videUcet Israeliticis, -^gyptiacis, 
 Balyloniis ; a fifth, De Historia Judith. At the end, in 
 the Munich manuscripts, we read this curious anno- 
 tation : Ex Mis autem guce dicuntur ihi in expositione 
 mystorice de David potest intelligi quod ille qui com- 
 j)Osuit opus quod dicitnr Evangelium jEternum non fuit 
 Joachim, sed aliquis vel aliqui moderni temporis quoniam 
 facit ihi merdionem de FQ^ederico imperatore, persecutore 
 romance ecclesiw} 
 
 V. 
 
 The Book op the Eternal Gospel. 
 
 Having indicated the texts upon which it is niy 
 intention to base my arguments, it remains for me 
 to draw the conclusions therefrom. Wiiat idea can 
 we formulate of the book entitled The Eternal 
 Gospel? Was this book distinct from the Introduc- 
 tion to The Eternal Gospel'^ Is this second book still 
 in existence % Is the work of Gerard which is cited 
 in the Anagni trial identical with the Introduction 
 to The Eternal Gospel? In what relation did all 
 these works stand to the actual books of Abbot 
 Joachim? At what date were they composed? 
 The embarrassment which some of these questions, 
 in appearance so simple, presents, ought not to 
 surprise us. There are no historical questions more 
 difficult to solve than those in which it is sought to 
 recover from the past some of the predicaments 
 created by the modern spirit. Scruples as to an 
 exact bibliography had but little existence in the 
 Middle Ages. The strict individuality of a book is 
 1 Preger, work quoted above, p. 36. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 159 
 
 a recent idea. Printing itself, which was to work so 
 profound a change in that respect, modified but 
 slowly the habits of the public. The composition, as 
 well as the form, of The Eternal Gospel is clearly 
 revealed to us in the report of the cardinals of 
 Anagni (the second of the documents above enumer- 
 ated). It is there expressly stated ^ that The Eternal 
 Gospel was divided into three parts, and was formed 
 through the combination of the tbree authentic 
 works of Abbot Joachim, namely, Tlie Concordance 
 of the Old and Neic Testaments, being the first book, 
 The Neio Apocalypse, the second,^ The Decachord 
 Psalter, the third. The scraps which we possess of the 
 notes of Gerard suggest the same thing. Gerard, 
 indeed, had a habit of designating Joachim by these 
 words : llle qui fiat minister hujus operis. A curious 
 marginal note in the Mazarine library manuscript, 
 which, belonged to the college of Navarre, is con- 
 ceived in the same sense.^ This note formally as- 
 cribes to Joachim a book entitled Evangeliuni jEter- 
 num, distinct from the Intro ductoriwn in Evangeliuni 
 Sternum, and indicates its place in the library of 
 the college of Navarre. Again, there are in the 
 fourteenth and fifteenth centuries some manuscripts 
 in which the three writings of Joachim were amal- 
 
 ^ D'Argentre, p. 163. After haec verba, we must add: "In 
 prirao libro Evangelii Eeterni, videlicet in secundo secundje Con- 
 cordiae. El tria pragdicta probantur similiter expresse xxi. 
 capltulo B, ubi distinguitur triplex littera. Ibi : ' Atteudent 
 
 vero,' etc et similiter ante fmem ultimi capituli, ubi 
 
 dicitur : ' Illud attendendum,'" etc. 
 
 2 See above, pp. 129-oO. It must be noticed that the ■work- 
 referred to here is not the complete commentary on the Apocalypse, 
 but the preliminary book which Joachim wrote as an introduction 
 to it. 
 
 ^ This is the note which corresponds with Item quod per virinn 
 in the second document : " Nota ista usque ad linem de erroribus 
 contentis in libro abbatis Joachim quera vocavit de Evangelic 
 ajterno, qui liber est in pulpitro aftixi i)arieti." 
 
 'Jhis note is iu I5th century handwriting. 
 
160 Joachim di flor. 
 
 gamated, and bore the common title of Evangelium 
 u^Sterman. 
 
 Such manuscripts must have been one of the results 
 of the movements of 1254, inasmuch as we have seen 
 that Joachim himself never gives that title either to 
 any one of his writings, or to the collection of his 
 writings. I do not believe that there exists in any 
 library to-day a manuscript thus entitled. 
 
 The fourth document, enumerated above, in spite 
 of an apparent contradiction, confirms the result at 
 w4nch we have just arrived touching the composi- 
 tion of The Eternal Gospel, and proves that that 
 was not merely the personal view of the Anagni 
 commissioners. We find there, in fact, that The 
 Eternal Gospel, properly so called, contained at 
 least two parts. The first was called Prwparatorium 
 in Evangelium JEterniim. The second was called 
 Concordia Novi et Veteris Testanienti^ or Concordia 
 Veritatis, and was divided into five books. It is 
 evident that the author of that document considered 
 the Introductorium, or Prceparatorium in Evangelium 
 jEternum, which elsewhere is distinguished from The 
 Eternal Gospel, as a first book of the Eternal Gospel 
 itself. The Concordance is thus found to be no more 
 than the second book. If there is here no question 
 of The Apocalypse and The Decachord Psalter^ it is 
 undoubtedly on the ground either that those parts 
 are regarded as less important, or because that they 
 do not repeat the errors of the Proiparatorium and the 
 Concordia. What proves, however, the invincible truth 
 of our hypothesis is this : First, That the errors given 
 in the fourth document, as extracts from the first 
 part of The Eternal Gosijel, entitled Prceparatorium 
 in Evangelium jEternum, are identical with those Ave 
 have found in the reports of the cardinals at Anagni 
 as extracts from the Introductorium in Evangeliunt 
 Sternum; Second, That the errors given by the fourth 
 document, as extracts from the second part of The 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. IGI 
 
 Eternal Gospel, are indeed extracts from the book of 
 the Concordance of Joachirn, the order and the divisions 
 of which are followed point by point. The difference 
 here, however, is a mere difference of arrangement. 
 We shall adopt the divisions followed by the Com- 
 mission of Anagni as being the more preferable. 
 
 It is hence fnlly estabhshed that The Eternal 
 Gospel, properly so called, was no other than 
 the collection of the three principal writings of 
 Joachim, and, consequently, that the Introduction to 
 The Eternal Gospel was distinct from it, although 
 it has sometimes been joined to it as a first book. 
 This distinction is proved by the report of the Com- 
 mission of Anagni. In fact, we see that they had in 
 their hands a work entitled Litroductorium in Evan- 
 gelium Sternum, which had been addressed to the pope 
 by the Bishop of Paris. We learn from it, besides, 
 that this work was simply divided into chapters, and 
 not into books. Finally, that it is from this work 
 that the cardinals concluded that The Eternal 
 Gospel, properly so called, was formed by the col- 
 lection of the three works of Joachim. Here is a 
 fresh proof making the same distinction. This 
 Florent, Bishop of Acre, who performed the func- 
 tions of promoter in the Commission of Anagni, and 
 became subsequently Archbishop of Aries, presided 
 about 1260'over a council, in which he condemned 
 afresh the errors of Joachim. Now, it follows from 
 the discourse he gave at this council, which he assem- 
 bled at Anagni, that he was anxious to condemn the 
 opuscules which had been circulated under the title 
 of The Gospel of the Holy spirit, and The Eternal 
 Gospel, and not the actual works of Joachim, which 
 until then had not been discussed, and been very little 
 read.^ Finally, Fra Salimbene calls the work of his 
 
 ^ Et licet nuper, prwsoiitibus nobis et prociiriintil)iis, a saiicta 
 Dei sede iipostolica diimuuta fuerit nova qiiicdam, qiuc ex his 
 pullulaverat, doctrina venenata Evangelii Sjiiiitus Sancti ]H'ivid- 
 
 L 
 
1G2 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 friend Gerard "a little book," lihellum} Unfortu- 
 nately, however, because of his anxiety to maintain 
 the honour of his order in this whole affair, he omits 
 to give us the exact title of the opuscule of Gerard. 
 
 The idea that we are brought to form from 
 these accounts of The Introduction to The Eternal 
 Gospel is that of a book in which it is designed 
 to sum up the doctrine of Joachim, and to revive 
 it for the furtherance of Franciscan ideas. How- 
 ever, the little precision which the Middle Ages 
 carried into bibliography led to much misunder- 
 standing on this point. In almost every case the 
 name of Eternal Gospel was applied to the 
 Introduction. We have just seen a proof of this 
 in the words uttered by Archbishop Florent in the 
 Council of Aries. Matthieu Paris and Guillaume de 
 Saint-Amour produced the same confusion — the 
 former when he said that the friars composed a 
 book which commenced with these words : Incipit 
 Evangelium ceternum — a book which he calls, a little 
 further on : Novus ille liber quern Evangeliu7n oiternnm 
 nominant;'^ the second, when he cites, as from The 
 Eternal Gospel, some words which are not to be 
 found, at least in the same sense, in the works of 
 
 gata nomine, ac si Christi Evangelium non aeternum nee a Spiritu 
 Sancto nominari debuisset ; tanquam pestis hujusmodi funda- 
 menta non discussa fuerint nee damnata, liber videlicet Concor- 
 dantiarum et alii libri Joacliitici, qui a majoribus nostri usque ad 
 hsec tempora remanserunt intacti, ut pote latitantes apud quos- 
 dam religiosos in angulis et antris, doctoribus indiscussi ; a quibus 
 si ruminati fuissent nullatenus inter sacros alios et sanctorum 
 codices mixti remansissent, quum alia modica Joachitica opuscula, 
 quae ad eorum pervenere notitiam, tarn solemniter sint damnata," 
 etc. (Labbe, Cone, vol. xi. 2d part, col. 2361, 2362.) Would 
 it not appear as if Florent had his eyes on a note in which the 
 writings were classified just as in the note to be seen at the close 
 of MS. 1726 from the Soibonne collection, 9 2«s inter oriyinalia 
 mixta sanctorum ? 
 
 1 Pp. 102, 233, 235, 236. 
 
 " P. 125J: (London edition 1571). 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 1(J3 
 
 Joachim.^ Nicholas Eymeric ^ quotes, as extracts from 
 'Ihe Eternal Gospel, the errors Avhich the Commis- 
 sion of Auagni discovered in the Liber Introduc- 
 torius. Finally, the librarian of the House of Sor- 
 bonne, who, in the fourteenth century, added divers 
 notes to the end of No. 1726, heedlessly produced the 
 same confusion. 
 
 It must be avowed that the Anagni documents do 
 not state as clearly as could be wished that Gerard 
 was the author of The Introduction to the Eternal 
 Gospel. The first Anagni document represents 7 he 
 Introduction to the Ete^mal Gospel as a book composed 
 of a continuous text, and divided into chapters. In 
 regard to this book, the cardinals do indeed cite an 
 opinion of Friar Gerard, but without stating whetlier 
 this note was to be found in the book itself, or 
 whether Friar Gerard was the author of this work. 
 Moreover, they say, vaguely, Sciiptor hujus operis,^ 
 and they accuse him of representing himself as one 
 of the twelve angels of Saint Francis, who was looked 
 on as a second Christ.^ The second Anagni docu- 
 
 ' Scripta sunt tria ipsa verba Mane TJiecel Phares in illo 
 maledicto libro quern appellant Evaugelium aiternum, quod jam 
 in ecclesia propalatum est, propter quod timendum est de sub- 
 versione ecclesiae." De peric, noviss. temp. p. 37. 
 
 - Directorium Inquisitor ium, p. 188 (llonme, 1578). 
 
 ^ This passage is nearly entirely omitted by D'Argentre : '' Item 
 quod per virum iudutum lineis intelligat Joachim scriptor liujusi 
 operis probatur xxi. cajjitulo, circa medium, per verba de quinque 
 intelligentiis generalibus et septem typicis, ubi sic ait : ' Yir 
 indutus lineis in apertione mysteriorum Jcreniiie prophette ; ecce, 
 ait, prieter historicum, moralem, tropologieum, etc. ..." Item xxii. 
 circa principium, ita dicitur 'ad quam IScripturam teuetur pupulus 
 tertii status ad Yetus Testamentum, et p0})ulus secundi ad novum, 
 quantum cumque hoc displiclat hominibus generationis istius.' " 
 
 •* " Sic in principio tertii status erunt tres similes illorum, scilicet 
 vir indutus lineis, et angelus quidam habens falcem anutem, et 
 alius angelus habens sigoriim I)ci vivi." (Here the MS, 172G 
 bears between the lines: "Scilicet sanctus Franciscus'') "ut 
 habuit" (D'Argentre "habebit") " similiter angelos duudecim iu 
 primo statu, et Christus in secundo." 
 
164 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 meiit, which has no greater relation to The Intro- 
 duction, always cites the works of Joachim according 
 to their proper divisions, and mentions as distinct 
 pieces the notes of Gerard. The most probable con- 
 clusion to be drawn from this is, that the two works 
 were censured by the Commission of Anagni ; first, 
 The Introductorium, the continuous text composed by 
 Gerard ; second, a sort of new edition, or, if it be 
 preferred, a series of extracts from the three authentic 
 works of Joachim, with the notes of Gerard,^ either 
 on the margin or in the text itself. It is this last 
 book which Master Florent, the promoter of the Com- 
 mission, held in his hand, and from which he read. 
 The two associate readers, Friar BonvpJet and Friar 
 Peter of Anagni, however, held in their hands the 
 actual works of Joachim, verified the quotations, and 
 distinguished the ones which belonged to Joachim 
 from the ones which belonged to Gerard. Sometimes, 
 in fact, the Anagni proces-verhaux seem to give the 
 words of the two authors without distinguishing be- 
 tween them. 
 
 For the rest, perfect accord exists between the 
 ideas contained in the notes of Gerard, cited by the 
 Commission of Anagni, and the ideas of The Liher 
 Introductorius. All these notes are written according 
 to the ideas of John of Parma and the exalted section 
 of the Order of Saint Francis. The antipathy against 
 the temporal papacy, the hatred against the rich 
 clergy, the belief that the final abomination would 
 proceed from a mundane and Simonaical pope, the 
 fixing of that fatal date in the year 1260, the belief that 
 the appearance of the Antichrist is near, and that this 
 monster will issue from Rome, Saint Francis designated 
 as the renovator of the century, and Joachim repre- 
 sented as his precursor. All these are so many traits 
 
 1 The nature of the gloss is particularly obvious in passages 
 similar to the following : — "Illte geuerationes valde breves erunt 
 ut apparebit inferius in multis locis " (omitted by D'Argentie). 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 165 
 
 which, there can be no doubt, belonged to the school 
 which, about the middle of the thirteenth century, 
 rescued the name of Joachim in order to support its 
 projects of social and religious reform. Many of the 
 propositions of that school, unearthed by Salimbene ^ 
 and by Jean de Meniig,^ are to be found textually in 
 the fragments of Gerard, for whose preservation we 
 are indebted to the reporters of Anagni, 
 
 As to the respective parts taken by John of Parma 
 and Gerard in the composition of The Introductorium, 
 our documents are silent on the point. The passage 
 in which " the Author " ranks himself as one of the 
 twelve angels of Saint Francis, would become John 
 of Parma better than Gerard. The reports men- 
 tion only Gc^rard, because they, no doubt, were 
 anxious to treat with respect the general of the 
 Franciscans. Salimbene, on his side, threw all the 
 responsibility on Gerard, and affected great zeal in 
 describing the manner in which the Order had been 
 known to punish such backshdings.'^ He cannot deny, 
 nevertheless, that John of Parma was not a decided 
 Joachimite, while, by holding such opinions,^ he created 
 for himself many difficulties. At a later period, 
 Nicholas Eymeric, having, in the quality of Dominican, 
 no longer the same motives for reserve, placed purely 
 and simply, under the name of John of Parma, the 
 list of errors which constituted the doctrine of The 
 Etermal Gospel. Certainly, he was in a sense the 
 apostle and the principal interpreter of the doctrines 
 which claimed to have the authority of the name of 
 Abbot Joachim. Nevertheless, there is nothing to 
 warrant the belief that John of Parma had directly 
 participated in the compilation of the book upon 
 which had been heaped so many anathemas. As 
 touching Gerard de liorgo San-Dounino, the proofs 
 are positive. Fra Salimbene, his colleague, and 
 
 ' Pp. 128, 240. - Roman de la Rose, line 12,014, rt seq. 
 
 '■' Pp. 103, 203, 236. ' Pp. 9><, 124, 131, et S"'j. 
 
166 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 countrymen and friend, accuses him, many times 
 over, of having composed a deplorable book in order 
 to falsify the doctrine of Joachim,^ and he recounts 
 the overwhelming disgraces which overtook him, with- 
 out flinching in his obstinancy. Affo, who was the 
 first to know this important text, then unpubhshed, 
 and after him Sbaraglia and Tiraboschi, ranged 
 themselves with reason under the peremptory autho- 
 rity of Fra Salimbene. 
 
 It results, from all that precedes, that we have the 
 text of what was strictly called The Eternal Gospel in 
 the three principal authentic works of Joachim. As 
 regards the notes of Gerard, they are very probably 
 lost beyond recall, with the exception of the frag- 
 ments which have been preserved in the indictments 
 of the Commission of Anagni. For a still stronger 
 reason, we must despair of ever finding the complete 
 text of The Introductormm. The rigour with which 
 heterodox books were proscribed in the Middle Ages 
 explains such a disappearance. Several years after 
 the condemnation of 1255, Salimbene saw a copy, 
 on paper, of the work of Gerard, which had been 
 copied at Rome by a notary of Imola. Here the 
 guardian of a convent came to consult him, as an 
 old Joachimite, as to the value of this writiog. 
 Salimbene took alarm, fearing, perhaps, some snare, 
 and told him that he must burn the volume imme- 
 diately : which was done.^ 
 
 As the volume which Master Florent possessed 
 had for its principal text a series of extracts from the 
 writings of Joachim, we are at liberty to ask Avhether 
 the compilation contained in No. 1726 of Sorbonne, 
 from folio 1 to folio 78 (the first document above re- 
 ferred to), ought to be identified Avith this mysterious 
 book. But the notes of Friar Gerard, such as we 
 find them in the indictments of the Anagni commission, 
 are not to be read in our manuscript. We find only in 
 ^ P. 103, et seq.; 223, et seq. « Pp. 235-36, compare pp. 234-35. 
 
JOACHIM Di FLOR. 167 
 
 the margin short scholia^ designed to call attention 
 to the principal ideas of Joachim, particularly those 
 upon which Gerard insisted the most. A much 
 graver difficulty arises from the fact that, amongst 
 the extracts used by Master Florent, he had only 
 citations of the three great authentic works of 
 Joachim, whilst, in our manuscript, the apocryphal 
 commentaries on Jeremiah, Ezekiel and the De 
 Oneribus Provinciarum hold an important place. 
 We must observe, moreover, that the compilation 
 contained in our No. 1726 seems sometimes to 
 depend on the humour of the copyist; in it there 
 are blanks and repetitions.^ We cannot identify it 
 with the edition given by Gerard. We believe that, 
 amongst the Joachimite writings which have been 
 preserved, the one which most nearly resembles the 
 work of Gerard is the opuscule commencing Ilelias 
 jam veneit, mentioned above, pages 238-240. At 
 what date are we to fix the composition of the Liber 
 Tntroductorius in Evangelimn Sternum? The fourth 
 document above mentioned gives us, in regard to 
 this, the most precise indication. One of the errors 
 which we find in the Liber Litrodiictorius is the 
 fixing of the reign of the Holy Spirit at six years 
 from then, in the year 1260,^ which dates back the 
 composition of the book to the year 1254. This is 
 likewise the precise date assigned by Guillaume de 
 Saint-Amour,^ and well known to all the savants who 
 have treated of the affairs of the University of Paris 
 
 ^ Florent no doubt alludes to similar compositions in his Council 
 of Aries : Plurima super his phantasiis commentaria facta de- 
 scripscrunt." (Labbe, vol. xiv. p. 2-42.) 
 
 - D'Argontru, p. 164 : " Quod novum Testainentuin non durabit 
 in virtute sua nisi per sex annos proxime futuros, scilicet usque ad 
 annum incarnationis M.CC.LX." D'Argentru's text incorrectly 
 gives 12G9. Compare D'Argentrc, p. 165 at the top ; Salimbene, 
 pp. 123, 223, 231, 240. 
 
 ^ "Jam publice posita fuit ad ex])lican(lum Anno Domino 125-4. 
 (De peric. noviss. temp. Opp. p. 3(S.) 
 
168 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 and of the Roman Court of that epoch.' By combin- 
 ing the principal facts which have been deduced from 
 this discussion, we arrive at the following conclu- 
 sions : — 
 
 1. The Eternal Gospel^ in the opinion of the thir- 
 teenth century, meant a doctrine, ascribed to the Abbot 
 Joachim, in regard to the appearance of a third 
 religious state which was to succeed the Gospel of 
 Christ, and to serve as the definitive law of humanity. 
 
 2. This doctrine is only vaguely expressed in the 
 authentic writings of the Abbot Joachim. Joachim 
 contented himself with instituting a comparison 
 between the Old and New Testaments, and casts 
 only timid glances into the future. 
 
 3. The name of Joachim was unearthed about the 
 middle of the thirteenth centur}^ by the ardent section 
 of the Franciscan school. He is made to foretell the 
 birth of Saint Francis and his Order ; he is made to 
 play a part as touching Saint Francis analogous to 
 that which John the Baptist played in respect of 
 Jesus; finally, there is given to the doctrine attri- 
 buted to him the name of The Eternal Gospel. 
 
 4. This expression did not convey to the majority 
 of those who heard or uttered it the idea of a 
 distinct work. It was the etiquette of a doctrine, just 
 as the expression of the " Three Impostors" summed 
 up the averro'istic scepticism, proceeding from a 
 study of Arabian philosophy and from the court of 
 Frederick II. 
 
 5. Nevertheless, the name of The Eternal Gospel 
 was given in a more precise sense to the collection of 
 the principal works of Joachim. 
 
 6. Quite distinct from this collection, there was 
 an Introduction to the Eternal Gospel, a work of 
 moderate dimensions, which was composed, or at 
 least brought to light, by Gerard de Borgo San- 
 Donnino in the year 1254. 
 
 ^ Histoire Litteraire de la France^ vol. xx. pp. 27, 28. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 169 
 
 7. This iutroduction was the preface to an 
 abridged edition of the works of Joachim, accom- 
 panied by commentaries by Gerard. These two 
 works, comprised under the compendious title of The 
 Eternal Gospel, transmitted by the Bishop of Paris to 
 the pope in 1254, were the occasion of the censures 
 of the Commission of Anagni in 1255. 
 
 8. The text of the Introduction to The Eternal Gospel 
 seems to be lost, but the doctrine has been preserved to 
 us in the acts of the Assembly of Anagni, and in the 
 other condemnations pronounced against The Eternal 
 Gospel (MSS. de Sorbonne, 1706, 1726 ; Mazarine 
 Library, 391.) As for the notes of Gerard, there re- 
 main some fragments in the second Anagni document. 
 
 An example will better illustrate the relationship 
 between these divers texts, and how the one has 
 emanated from the other by amplification or by in- 
 terpolation. " In chapter viii. of The Introduction to 
 the Eternal Gospel,'^ say the cardinals of the Commis- 
 sion of Anagni, " the author states that, even as at the 
 commencement of the first state, there appeared three 
 great men, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the third of 
 whom — that is to say, J-acob — had twelve persons in 
 his suite (his twelve sons) ; just as, at the commence- 
 ment of the second state, there were three great men, 
 Zachariah, John the Baptist and Christ, the God-man, 
 who seemed to have had twelve persons in his suite, 
 (the twelve apostles) ; just as, at the commencement 
 of the third state, there shall be three great men, 
 similar to the first, to wit, the man clothed in linen, 
 the angel holding the sharp scythe, and another 
 angel having in his hand the sign of the living God. 
 The latter shall have, in like manner,in hissuite, twelve 
 . angels, just as Jacob had twelve in the first state, and 
 Christ twelve in the second. That by the man clad 
 in linen," continue the cardinals, ''the author of this 
 loriting means Joachim, which is j)roved in chapter 
 xxi., towards the middle .... and by chapte; 
 
170 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 xii., in which we find these words : To that angel 
 who holds the sign of the living God, and who 
 appeared about 1200 of the incarnation of the Lord, 
 an angel," add the cardinals, "whom Friar Gerard 
 has formally recognised as being no other than Saint 
 Francis." 
 
 Here is a theory, clear and well defined, and which 
 could only have been realised about the middle of 
 the thirteenth century, in the bosom of the exalted 
 Franciscan school. Again, if we open the Concord- 
 ance of Joachim, we find there, in the second treatise 
 of Book I., the parallel of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob 
 on the one part, of Zachariah, John the Baptist and 
 Christ on the other part, several times repeated, but 
 not expressed with the same precision ; above all, 
 there is no trace of a future triad, destined to found 
 a new religious state of humanity, a triad of which 
 Joachim shall be one. In general, the views of 
 Joachim as to a third state coming to succeed the 
 New Testament, jnst as the New Testament has 
 succeeded the Old, are very shadowy and barely in- 
 dicated.^ The definiteness which later on was as- 
 cribed to his doctrine on this point, his prophecies 
 regarding the institution of mendicant orders and the 
 displacement of the secular clergy by an order which 
 was to go barefoot ; the prediction, in a word, of The 
 Eternal Gospel — all this was the work of the Joachim- 
 ites of the thirteenth century, the which, finding in 
 the ideas of the Abbot Joachim di Flor, as touching 
 the parallel of the two Testaments, a suitable basis 
 for their theology, adopted these ideas, and added to 
 them the announcement of a third revelation, the 
 precursors of which were to be Joachim, Saint Francis, 
 the Messiah, and of which they themselves were to 
 be the a230stles. 
 
 ^ Vide Concordance^ ], iv. last chapter, and especially 1, v. chap. 
 Ixxxiv. These passages may be interpolations by Gerard, as also 
 that wherein Joachim diiectly predicts the Mendicant Orders. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 171 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Doctrine of The Eternal Gospel. 
 
 The study of documents confirms, then, in 
 minutest detail, the account of Fra SaHmbene. The 
 doctrine of The Eternal Gospel attained gi'eat 
 pubhc celebrity in the Order of Saint Francis under 
 the generalship, and with the protection, more or 
 less avowed, of John of Parma : but John of Parma 
 wrote nothing under that title. The author of the 
 accursed book was Gerard de Borgo San-Donnino. 
 Nor were Gerard and John of Parma themselves 
 the inventors of the system which startled Christi- 
 anity in 1254. Joachimism had for a long time 
 taken root amongst the ardent disciples of Saint 
 Francis. Salimbene relates ^ how that an aged, 
 holy abbot of the Order of Flor came to Pisa begging 
 the monks to take charge of the books of Joachim, 
 which were in the possession of his convent. This 
 convent was situated between Lucca and Pisa ; 
 and he was afraid, he said, of its being pillaged by 
 Frederick II. The best theologians of the convent 
 at Pisa applied themselves to the reading of the books 
 brought by the aged abbot : they were struck by 
 the coincidences which the prophecies of Joachim 
 bore to the events of the time, and, laying aside 
 theology, they became furious Joachimites. It would 
 not be too rash to suppose that the books thus 
 mysteriously confided to the Franciscans of Pisa 
 were the apocr^^phal writings of Joachim, such as 
 the Coinmentary on Jeremiah, which was actually 
 composed about that time.- Enthusiasm does not 
 
 1 r. 101. 
 
 '^ The opponents of the Joachimites, seeminir to have doubts ;is 
 to the authenticity of these MSS., call thetn "prophetias hoiiiiiiuin 
 fantasticonini." S;iliinbene, p. i;U. 
 
172 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 comprehend veracity as it does rough common 
 sense : it does not consider itself subject to the 
 scrupulous rules of literary probity, which are proper 
 to critical and reflective ages. The prophet, per- 
 suaded of the superior truth of the inspiration of 
 conscience, does not scruple to call to his aid that 
 which the sober-minded man characterises as fraud 
 and imposture. Nearly forty years had rolled past 
 since the death of the Abbot of Flor. His books, 
 kept secret and concealed in the depths of the cells 
 of a few monkvS,^ were known only to a small number 
 of votaries. His person, surrounded by a legendary 
 halo, his character of prophet being already universally 
 accepted, the belief that was entertained that he had 
 received a special inspiration from the Holy Spirit 
 to predict the destinies of the Church, all made him 
 an excellent patron for the doctrine that they were 
 anxious to establish, and the germs of which were 
 actually to be found in his writings. The Patriarch 
 of Flor was put en rapjyort with the new movement: 
 he was made to predict the appearance of two orders 
 destined to change the face of Christendom.^ His 
 legend was dovetailed into that of Saint Francis. 
 The great authority of Saint Francis was derived 
 from the stigmata which assimilated him to Christ: 
 for Joachim also had stigmata. Like Francis, he 
 
 ' " Libri Joachitici, qui a inajoribus nosfcris usque ad hsec 
 tempora remanserunt intacti, ut pote latitantes apud quosdam 
 religiosos in augulis et antris, doctoribus indiscussi." Council of 
 Aries, Labbe, vol. xiv. col. 241. 
 
 2Saliinbene, pp. 118, 123, 124, 338, 389, 403. A tradition 
 greatly credited among the Chroniclers of Mendicant Orders, even 
 pretended that Joachim caused S. Francis and S. Dominic to be 
 painted in the Church of S. Mark at Venice in the habiliments 
 since accepted and preserved by Christian iconography. The idea 
 that in the mosaics of S. Mark, representing scenes taken from the 
 Apocalypse, we have a representation of Joachim's ideas, is scarcely 
 less improbable. Strange to say, the Jesuits pretended, also at a 
 later date, to have been predicted by Joachim. — Vide Acta S. S. 
 Maii, vol. vii. pp. 141-2. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 173 
 
 went barefoot : like liiiii, he embraced nature and 
 aniruals in a universal love. Joachim thus soon 
 became the precursor of Saint Francis, soon the 
 founder of a new faith superior to that of the 
 CathoHc Church, destined to supplant it and to en- 
 dure eternally. He himself w^as given a precursor 
 in the person of a certain Cyril, a hermit of Mount 
 Carmel, a prophet like himself, and whose oracles 
 were characterised by a singular illuminism and 
 boldness. His writings, whether genuine or apocry- 
 phal, were, in the eyes of the little church, a sort of 
 revelation. Much less shackled than the Dominicans 
 by the bonds of scholastic theology, sometimes indeed 
 hardly Christians, the Franciscans enjoyed, in the 
 matter of mystical speculations, as they did in science 
 and poetry, a liberty of thought which, in the ^liddle 
 Ages, is to be sought for in vain outside of their 
 institution. 
 
 We cannot figure to ourselves, in fact, — at least 
 from the perusal of the curious work of Fra 
 Salimbene, — to what extent the Joachimite ideas 
 had penetrated the order, and how much these had 
 stimulated its mental activity. A holy man of 
 Provence, Hugues de Digne, who preached before 
 Saint Louis, was the oracle of the sect ; people flocked 
 from all parts to his cell at Hyeres, in order to listen 
 to the terrors and the hopes contained in the new 
 Apocalypse.^ He had in his possession the Avhole of 
 the works of Joachim engrossed in large letters. 
 Generally speaking, he was regarded as a prophet, and 
 he was the father of a kind of third order of wander- 
 ing mendicants who were called Saccati or Boscavioli 
 Hugues was the intimate friend of John of Parma, and 
 perhaps his imitator in these dangerous novelties. 
 Salimbene came often to see him, and spoke f)f him 
 
 ' Salimbene, pp. 98, et seq. ; 124, 141-2, 148, 319, 320. Com- 
 pare Histoire Litt&aire dc la France^ xxi. p. 293 ; Albane's Vie de 
 Sninte Douceliiw^ [>. 47, et se'/. 
 
174 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 as one inspired. His sister, Santa Douceline, was the 
 foundress of the Beguines of Marseilles, and traces 
 of the trials which her relations with John of Parma 
 and the chiefs of the Franciscan movement cost her, 
 are still discernible under the truly edifying spirit 
 of her Proven9al biography,^ which has come down to 
 us from her. 
 
 The fever of Joachimism attacked the greatest minds. 
 One of the first men of the century, Adam of Marsh, 
 the friend of Roger Bacon, in the heart of England, 
 eagerly received from Italy the smallest fragments 
 of the works of the Abbot of Flor, and transmitted 
 them immediately to his friend Robert Grossetete, 
 Bishop of Lincoln,^ drawing his attention to the 
 menaces which they contained against the vices of 
 the clergy. Spreading rapidly from convent to 
 convent along the Rhine and the Saone, Joachimism 
 penetrated especially to Champagne. It was at 
 Provins that Salimbene encountered the two leaders 
 of the sect — Bartholomew Ghiscolo of Parma, and 
 Gerard de Borgo San-Donnino.^ In general, the 
 whole of these Joachimites were real saints, though 
 very free-thinking believers, attaching to their own 
 ideas and the writings of their master as much 
 importance as to the teachings of the Church and the 
 authority of the Bible. 
 
 The general of the order, John of Parma, shared 
 keenly these chimeras ; * some of the affiliated mem- 
 
 ^ The Vie de Salute Douceline, published by M. I'Abbe Albanes, 
 Marseilles, 1879, pp. xlix. 35, 37, 99, 115, 137, 155. .M. Paul 
 Meyer was the first to notice the importance of this document in 
 the history of the Franciscan movement. — Les Derniers Troubadours 
 de la Provence (1871), p. 19. 
 
 2 " Paucas particulas de variis expositionibus abbatis Joachim, quce 
 ante d^es aliquot per quendam fratrem venientem de partibus 
 transmontanis mihi sunt allatie," in the Monmnenta Franciscana, 
 published by J. S. Brewer (London, 1858), pp. 146, 147. Compare 
 Salimbene, p. 99. 
 
 3 Salimbene, pp. 101, et seq., 318. 
 
 ''Ibid. pp. 124, 131-33. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 175 
 
 hers accorded him a place amongst the angelic pre- 
 cursors of the new Gospel : ^ it was even desired that 
 he might select twelve.companions, like Saint Francis.^^ 
 But the most exalted of the Joachimites was Friar 
 Gerard de Borgo San-Donuino. Gerard had been 
 educated in the kingdom of Sicily ; he was still a 
 young man — instructed as became the fashion of the 
 age— of an amiable character, and pure morals.^ In 
 1248, we find him in the convent of Provins, immersed 
 in the reading of the writings of Joachim, seeking 
 to make proselytes, and already perplexing the whole 
 house by his sombre prophecies. Ghiscolo and Salim- 
 bene supported him ; but the French friars opposed 
 to him an active resistance. About the year 1249, the 
 small Joachimite circle at Provins was dissolved. 
 Ghiscolo was sent to Sens, Salimbene to Autun, 
 Gerard to Paris, to represent the province of Sicily 
 in the University there. He studied there for four 
 years. His ideas during that time became more 
 exalted, and in 1254 he published the book which 
 brought about so great a scandal. Numerous pro- 
 phecies already designated the year 1260 as the 
 critical year of the Christian world. Gerard boldly 
 announced that that year would witness the inaugiu'a- 
 tion of the new era. Some imperfectly understood 
 passages of the Apocalypse (xi. 3 ; xii. 6 ; xx. 3 and 7) 
 were reputed to sustain these strange calculations. 
 In good truth, all the dreams of the new millenarians, 
 through an arbitrary exegesis, yet one conformed 
 to the spirit of the times, set out from the great 
 source of Christian hopes — from the volume Avritten 
 at Patraos. 
 
 We read in chapter xvi. of that mysterious book: 
 "I saw an angel who fled to the zenith, holding The 
 Eternal Gospel, in order to announce to those who 
 are upon the earth, to every nation, to every tribe, to 
 
 ^ See above, p. 156. - Sulimbeue, j)p. 317-19. 
 
 3 Ihid. \)\i. 102, et seq.; 233, et seq. 
 
176 JOACHIM Dl FLOE. 
 
 every toDgue, to every people." The imagiuatiou of 
 the Middle Ages could not allow that text to fall into 
 oblivion : it was compared with the Sibylline oracles, 
 accepted by the tradition of the Fathers, and which 
 (sprung themselves from the effervescence of the 
 ancient millenarian sects) embraced powerful aspira- 
 tions as to the future. The corruption of the Church 
 (far removed from the predictions of the Gospel), 
 led some minds to conceive an imaginary state, 
 when the perfection, so many times promised, would 
 be finally realised. 
 
 "The Father reigned four thousand years in the Old 
 Testament," said the preachers of the new faith : ^ the Son 
 reigned till the year 1200 : then the Spirit of hfe departed 
 from the two Testaments, in order to give place to the 
 Eternal Gospel: the year 1260 will see the commencement 
 of the era of the Holy Spirit. The reign of the laity, 
 corresponding with that of the Father, lasted during the 
 time of the old law ; the reign of the secular clergy, cor- 
 responding to that of the Son, lasted durmg the time of 
 the new : the third age will be the reign of an order com- 
 posed of equal proportions of laymen and clerics,^ and especi- 
 ally devoted to the Holy Spirit. A new sacerdotalism will 
 replace the old ; no one shall then be a priest or arrogate 
 to himself the right to teach except upon the condition cJf 
 going barefoot. 2 The sacraments of the new law have 
 
 1 D'Argentr6, op. cit. p. 163, et seq. D'Argentre left out the 
 following passa<:e : — Item in ill. capitulo, circa medium, dicitur 
 " Opera qu?e fecit Deus trinitas ab initio usque nunc sunt o[)era 
 Patris" (MS. 1706 reads • Trinitatis,') "tantum, etpostpauca : 'Et 
 illud tempus in quod operatus est Deus Pater est principium tem- 
 poris Patris, et potest dici primus status mundi, etc' " 
 
 '^ This was one of the peculiarities of the order of S. Francis, 
 which admitted laymen in its Brotherhood. 
 
 3 D'Argentre [)rinted in error independentium instead of nudi- 
 pedum. He left out the indication of the censured passages, five 
 in number. We read in the 4th document, " Quod nuUus est 
 simpliciter idoneus, etc., nisi illi qui nudis pedibus incedunt," 
 D'Argentr^ puts here, " Idoneus Evangelic ; " Nicholas Eymeric 
 has, " Quod nullus simplex homo est idoneus ad instruendum 
 hominem alium de spiritualibus et aeternis nisi. . . ." 
 
JOACHlM DI i^LOK. 17? 
 
 only six years more to last.^ Jesus Christ and his apostles 
 did not reach perfection in the contemplative life. Until 
 Joachim, an active life sanctified ; now an active life has 
 become useless ; it is the contemplative life whose traditions 
 the successors of Joachim have preserved, which justifies. 
 Whence it follows that the clerical order shall perish, and 
 shall be replaced by a third order more pei-fect. The order 
 of the monks, predicted by the Psalmist when he said : 
 'Excellent ropes have fallen to me as my share.' ^ This 
 order shall grow stronger in proportion as the order of the 
 clergy shall decay. It shall be the order of the meek.-* In 
 the first age of the world, the government of the Church 
 was confided by the Father to certain great men of the 
 order who were married, and this it is which constituted the 
 legitimacy of that class. In the second age of the world, 
 authority was confided by the Son to certain of the clerical 
 order, and this it is which constituted the glory of that 
 order. In the third age, authority shall be confided by the 
 Holy Ghost to one or to several of the order of monks, who 
 shall thus be glorified. When the preachers of that order 
 shall be persecuted by the clergy, they shall be at liberty 
 to make up with the infidels, and it is much to be feared,' 
 it is added, ' that they will make up with them only to lead 
 them to a contest with the Church of Home.'* 
 
 " The discernment of the spiritual sense of the Scriptures 
 has not been confided to the pope : what has been confided 
 to him is only the discernment of the literal meaning. If 
 he permits himself to decide on the spiritual sense, his 
 judgment is to be regarded as rash, and no account must be 
 taken of it. Spiritual men are not obliged to obey the 
 Homan Church, nor to acquiesce in its judgment in matters 
 pertaining to God. 
 
 ^ " Quod sacramenta novto legis non durabinit a modo uisi per 
 sex annos." — Pre(jti\ p. 36. 
 
 - I need not point out to Hebrew scholars the curious misre- 
 presentation here, Psalm lG-6. 
 
 ^ '' Ordo parvuloruin," an illusion to the Fratres Minores. — Cf. 
 Salimbene, p. 122. 
 
 ♦ "Quod pnedicatoref? et doctoresrcligiosi, quando infestabuutur 
 a cluricis, trauisibunt ad iufideles ; ct tinienduin est m'. ad hoc 
 transeant ut congregLMii i-os in prccliuni contra liouianaui lOccle- 
 siam, juxta doctrinam b -ati Joainiis, Apuc. xvi." 
 
 M 
 
178 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 " The Greeks were wise in separating themselves from the 
 Roman Church ; they walked more according to the spirit 
 than the Latins, and are nearer salvation. ^ The Holy 
 Spirit saved the Greeks, the Son works the salvation of 
 the Latins, the eternal Father watches over the Jews, and 
 shall save them from the hatred of men, without its being 
 necessary for them to abandon Judaism. ^ 
 
 "The Old Testapaent, the work when the Father governed, 
 may be compared to the original sky, or to the light of the 
 stars : the New Testament, the work of the time when the 
 Son governed, may be compared to the second sky, or to the 
 light of the moon : the Eternal Gospel, the work of the 
 time which shall be governed by the Holy Spirit, may be 
 compared to the light of the sun.""* The Old Testament 
 represents the vestibule;^ the New Testament represents 
 the holy place ; the Eternal Gospel the holy of holies. The 
 first was the age of law and fear ; the second the age of 
 grace and faith ; the third shall be the age of love. The 
 first was the period of slavery, the second the period of 
 filial servitude, the third shall be the period of liberty. The 
 first was a starry night, the second was the dawn, the third 
 shall be the broad day. The first represented winter, the 
 second spring, the third shall represent summer. The first 
 was the shell, the second the stone, the third shall be the 
 kernel. The first bore nettles, the second roses, the third 
 shall bear lilies. The first is represented by water, the 
 second by wine, the third by oil ; or, rather, the first by 
 earth, the second by water, the third by fire. The first is 
 represented by Septuagesima, the second by Lent, the third 
 by Easter joys.^ The Gospel of Christ is literal, the 
 
 ^ " Quod papa gr?ecus (Nicholas Eymeric, populus grrecus) 
 magis ambulat secundum Evangelium" (Meyenberg, Spiritum). 
 The Magdeburg centuriators also have " Papa greecus." 
 
 2 D'Argentre, p. 165, instead of iiijime read in fine. 
 
 ^ D'Argentre makes another mistake in this passage. We must 
 read — " Comparat vetus Testamentum primo cojlo, Evangelium 
 Christi secundo coelo, Evangelium seternum tertio ccelo." 
 
 * Atrio D'Argentre gives incorrectly Sanctuario according to 
 No. 1706. 
 
 ^ See Concurdance, iv. cap. Ixxxiv, I presume many of Gerard's 
 interpolations found their way into this portion of Joachim's 
 text. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 179 
 
 Eternal Gospel shall be spiritual, and shall deserve to 
 be called the Gospel of the Holy Spirit. The Gospel of 
 Christ was enigmatical, the new Gospel shall be without 
 parables and without figures ; it is of it which Saint Paul 
 spoke : ' We now see as in a glass darkly, but then ' (that is 
 to say, in the third state of humanity) ' shall we see face to 
 face,' 1 — the truth of both Testaments shall appear unveiled ; 
 the divine Scriptures shall be divided into three parts, — 
 the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Gospel, 
 meaning by this last word the Eternal Gospel. ^ The latter 
 shall be as obligatory on men of the third state as the Old 
 Testament was on men of the first state, as the New Testament 
 wasonmen of the secondstate, 'although this truth,'itisadded, 
 * may be unpalatable to men of the present generation.' 
 
 " Three great men presided at the inauguration of the 
 Old Testament, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the last 
 attended by twelve personages (the twelve patriarchs). 
 Three great men presided at the advent of the New 
 
 ^ This passage is wrongly given by D' Argentrc : Item x. capitulo 
 D, dicit quod tertius status mundi, qui est proprius Spiritus Saucti, 
 crit sine tTnigmate et sine figuris ; unde, circa medium ejusdem 
 Ciipituli, ponit hsec verba: "Apostolus, 1 Cor. xiii. loquens de 
 fide et caritate, distinguendo statuni fidei, scilicet secundum statum 
 mundi, qui renigmaticus est, a statu cari talis qui proprius Spiritus 
 Sajjcti est et est sine renigmate, figuravit duorum Testamentorum 
 (differentiam), ut pater alibi, quia comparando unum ad aliud 
 dicit : Ex parte cognoscimiis et ex parte proplietamu)^.^ et hoc quan- 
 tum ad secundum statum ; qnum autem venerit (j nod perfect um est, 
 scilicet tempus caritatis, quod est tertius statu mundi, evacuabitnr 
 quod ex parte est, qua^i dicat. Tunc cessabunt onines figura* et 
 Veritas duorum Testamentorum sine velamine apparcbit ; et statim 
 subdit, Vidcmus nunc per speculurn" etc. 
 
 - D' Argentrc left out nearly all this passage : — '' Item xxviii. 
 capitulo A, dicit Sacram Scripturam divis^m in tres partes scilicet 
 in Vetus Testamentum et Novum et Evangelium, quod capitulum 
 totum est notabile, et totum legatur. Idem expresse liabotur 
 XXX. capitulo, ubi dicit : Htec tria sacra voluniina ; " et eodem 
 capitulo D, dicit : "Alia est Scriptura divina qua^ data est fidelibus 
 60 tempore quo Deus Pater dictus est operari, et alia qu;u data 
 Christianis eo tempore quo Deus tilius operari dictus est, et alia 
 quic nobis data" (D'Ar«i;entre, danda) "est eo tempore quo 
 Spiritus Sanctus proprietate mysterii operatur (D'Arf'entrc 
 Mi/sterii Trinitatis Operabiticr.) 
 
180 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 Testament, Zachariah, John the Baptist and Christ, 
 attended by his twelve apostles. In like manner three great 
 men shall preside at the foundation of the third state, the 
 three monks : the man clothed in linen (Joachim), the angel 
 bearing the keen-edged scythe (Saint Dominic), ^ and the 
 angel bearing the sign of the living God (Saint Francis), by 
 whom God renewed the apostolic life, and who, like Christ, 
 had twelve apostles. The year 1200 was thus the advent 
 of the new men, the year in which the Gospel of Christ lost 
 its efficacy. 
 
 " The doctrine of Joachim abro2fates the Old and New 
 Testaments. The Gospel of Christ was not the really true 
 Gospel of the Kingdom ; it did not succeed in building up 
 the true Church j^ it did not lead anyone to perfection.^ 
 Authority belongs more to the Eternal Gospel, which, being 
 announced by the coming of Elias, is about to be preaclied 
 to every nation. The preachers of the new Gospel will be 
 superior to those of the primiiive Church. At the approach 
 oi: the solemn day, those who preside over the order of the 
 monks shall detach themselves more and more from the age, 
 and prepare themselves for rejoining the ancient people — 
 the Jews. The triumph of the order of the monks, it is 
 vaguely added, will be effected by a man, or by several men, 
 who shall serve as its representatives, and whose glory shall 
 be the glory of the order itself. There shall rise up a man 
 in the religious orders who shall be preferred to all others 
 in dignity and glory. Tliis triumph shall be preceded by 
 the reign of abomination ; that is to say, by the reign of a 
 Simonaical false poj)e, who shall occupy the pontifical chair 
 towards the close of the sixth age of the world, 'Then 
 tribulation,' said Friar Gerard, 'will be such as has never 
 been equalled before, and it shall effect the temporal as well 
 as the spiritual order: it shall take place about the year 1250. 
 Then shall appear the Antichrist. Next, after a short 
 
 ' This interpretation is omitted from the MS., doubtless because 
 the Dominican censors would have been displeased to see the 
 name of their partiarch mixed up with these dangerous doctrines. 
 
 ^"Nec tediflcatorium ecclesise," and not "Nee sedificatio," as 
 D'Argeutrc has it. 
 
 •^ ''Quod Kvangeliinii Christi neminem ducit ad peifectionem," 
 omitted by D'Argentre. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 181 
 
 interval of peace, shall commence a still worse tribulation. 
 The latter shall be wholly spiritual, and, in consequence, 
 more dangerous.' " 
 
 To these passages were added calculations borrowed 
 from Joachim, in regard to the genealogies of tlie 
 Old Testament considered as prophetic,^ and a series 
 of predictions, in which tlie writer gives full rein to 
 his hatred against the Church of Rome and the 
 powers of the age. All the prophets were summoned 
 to announce the substitution of a poor and monastic 
 church for the official church, the early coming of 
 Antichrist, the abomination of desolation enthroned 
 in the holy place; that is to sa}^ the advent of a 
 worldly pope, who would introduce into the churches 
 his courtesans and his horses ; finally, the imminent 
 ruin of that presumptuous Babylon who had gorged 
 itself with the tribute of the entire world, and perse- 
 cuted the just when the latter reproached her with her 
 impieties. It is related tliat Joachim, wlien consulted 
 by Richard Coeur de Lion in regard to Antichrist, 
 replied that he had already been born in Rome, 
 and that he would reign there, in order to raise him- 
 self, as the prophet had foretold, higher even than 
 God.- Others said that he disapproved of the 
 Crusades because the infidels were not so far removed 
 as the Latins from the Eternal Gospel.^ To those 
 who were annoyed at these incessant jeremiads he 
 
 ' " Primus est error enuinerandi carnales genealogias," and not 
 " annalcs " as D'Argentre has it. We must than road as follows : — 
 " Secundus est studimn noscendi monii.'nta et tempera eonnu qii;e 
 venient vel veneruiit in secundo statu mundi per ea qiue venerunt 
 in prime statu mundi." 
 
 ' Roger de Hoveden, apud Saville, Rer. aiigl. Script, pp. 681-82. 
 It is stated that a similar ref)ly was made by Joachim to Adam 
 Perseigne. See Acta S. S. Mali, vol. vii. pp. loC, 139 ; Ilauieau, 
 Hist. Litt. du Maine, i. ])p. 29-33. 
 
 ^ J. Wolf, Centenarii, p. 497. It is very remarkable that in 
 1248, tho time of the departure of Saint Louis, the Joachimites 
 evinced so little satisfaction. — Salimbmo, p. 102. 
 
182 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 is said to have responded : " Those who hate the 
 kingdom of heaven do not wish to destroy the 
 kingdom of the world ; those who do not love 
 Jerusalem do not wish the downfall of Egypt.^ 
 The strongest scriptural figures were invoked to 
 paint to the imagination the chastisement of the 
 mercenary prelates and the vengeance of the saints. 
 The abuses of wealth, and the temporal power of the 
 Church, were assailed with a virulence scarcely known 
 to the most passionate outbursts of the Reformation. 
 Such were the strange thoughts which were 
 fermenting under the cassocks of a few monks, and 
 who in 1254 dared to show themselves in open 
 day. I do not know whether I am wandering from 
 the real gist of these productions, but seeing the 
 persistence with which, under one form or another, 
 such ideas were produced for more than a century, 
 and always in the bosom of the Franciscan family; 
 seeing what connection they had with the heresies, 
 the popular movements, the political revolutions of 
 the times ; seeing that the exalted sectaries declare 
 that the schismatic Greeks, the Jews, and the infidels 
 themselves, from whom they expected to meet less 
 opposition, were to be preferred to the Latin Church, 
 over which they despaired in triumphing, I do not 
 think I am exaggerating when I say that there 
 was in this an abortive attempt to create a religion. 
 It only needed a little more encouragement, and the 
 thirteenth century, in many respects so extraordinary, 
 would have witnessed the growth of a new rehgion, 
 the germ of which was contained in the Franciscan 
 institution ; nay, if it had depended upon the 
 fanatical members of the new order, the world, then 
 Christian, would have become Franciscan.2 We shall 
 
 ^ Salimbene, p. 103. 
 
 - Such was undoubtedly the opinion of Guillaume de Saint- 
 Amour. "Jam sunt 65 anni quod aliqui laboiant ad mutandum 
 Evangelium Christi in aliud Evangelium, quod dicunt fore per- 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 183 
 
 now see how these pretensions miscarried in presence 
 of the scholastic rigour of the Gallicaa Church, the 
 firm hand of the Court of Rome, the good sense 
 of a lay society which was springing into hfe, and, 
 above all, by the impracticability of the objects it 
 was sought to compass. 
 
 Paris, in which the new Gospel was born, was of all 
 places in the world the least favourable to its progress. 
 Their dreams of an imaginary perfection, their vague 
 aspirations towards an ideal and superhuman state, 
 broke down before the practical turn of the French 
 mind. We are surprised at the justness and clear- 
 ness with which the representatives of the University 
 of Paris at that epoch — Guillaume de Saint-Amour 
 and Gerard d'Abbeville, strong advocates of religious 
 mendicity — perceived the social bearing of the new 
 monastic institutions.^ No doubt religious people 
 who did not share the exaggerated theories of the 
 Franciscans, and in particular the Dominicans, who, 
 far from sharing it, were its most persistent adver- 
 saries,- might justly reclaim against the affecta- 
 tion of mixing up the doctrine of mouastical poverty 
 with that of the Eternal Gospel. St Thomas Aquinas 
 showed himself almost as severe as Guillaume de 
 Saint-Amour in the blame which he cast upon the 
 ideas of the Joachimite school, and Guillaume de 
 Tocco, his biographer, relates that, finding in a 
 monastery the works of the Abbot of Flor, he read 
 tliem through and through, underlined everything 
 that appeared to him erroneous, and imperiously 
 forbade that all that his infallible authority had 
 
 fectius, melius et dignius quod appellant Evangelium Spiritus 
 Sancti, sive Evangelium ieternum, quo advoniente, evacuabitur, ut 
 dicunt, Evangelium Cliristi." De Periculis Novissimorum Temporum, 
 p. 38. (Opera Constai)tia>, Parisiis, 16i}2.) 
 
 ' See the article of M. Dauuou on John of ravina (Hist. Litt. de 
 hi France^ vol. xx.) and above all that of M. A'ictor Le Ck-rc on 
 Guillaume de Saint-Amour and (Jcrard d'Abbeville (Ibid. vol. xxi.). 
 
 ' Salimbene, pp. 104, 108. 
 
184 JOACHIM DT FLOR. 
 
 thus annulled was neither to be read nor be- 
 lieved in} 
 
 It cannot be doubted that, during the heat of the 
 struggle, at a moment when every sort of weapon 
 was made use of by one to bring about the condem- 
 nation of one's adversaries, the University did not 
 seize on The Eteomal Gosjyel as a fair pretext for dis- 
 crediting the monks, in like manner as they themselves 
 used against the University the reproach of Aver- 
 roism and the blasphemy of the Th^ee Impostors. It 
 is rare that the polemic interdicts himself from 
 employing the unfair manoeuvre which consists in 
 making use of, against a doctrine, the exaggerations 
 it may embrace. This time, however, the calumny 
 was not without some foundation in truth. The 
 abuse of logic, and the authority accorded to the 
 Arab interpretations, gave a certain colour to the ac- 
 cusations brought against the University. On the 
 other hand, there was a real affinity between Thf. 
 Eternal Gospel and the doctrine of monastic poverty, 
 which the doctors of the University had little difficulty 
 in recognising. Mendicity had iDecome the pretext 
 for the strangest doctrines. Guillaume de Saint- 
 Amour did not cease to preach against the vagrants 
 and the bons-valets, and other sects of mendicants, who 
 maintained that "manual labour was a crime, that it 
 was necessary always to pray, that the earth brought 
 forth more abundantly through prayer than by 
 labour." The Bishop of Paris, anxious to give the 
 University the pleasure of seeing a monk convicted 
 of the greatest errors, referred The Introduction to the 
 Eternal Gospel to Pope Alexander IV. The pope 
 nominated the commission of three cardinals, whom 
 we have seen exercising their functions. In the 
 month of July 1255 the condemnation was pro- 
 
 ' " Ubi aliquid erroneum reperit vel suspectum, cum linea sub- 
 ducta damnavit, quia totuni legi et credi prohibuit quod ipse sua 
 docta manu cassE^vit." A^ta S. S. Martii, vol. i. p. GG7. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOll. 185 
 
 nounced, the preliminary portioDS of which have 
 come down to us. 
 
 This was a satisfaction which the papacy, following- 
 out its rule of sacrificing extremes to one another, 
 accorded to the University ; but out of regard for 
 the order upon which the condemnation seemed to 
 fall, the pope ordered the condemned book to be 
 secretly burned at Anagni, whereas the judgment 
 pronounced the following year against the De joerl- 
 culls novissimorimi temporum of Guillaume de Saint- 
 Amour was given the greatest publicity.^ This 
 worthy Galhcan Church was none the less proud of 
 having arrested the progress of a perverse doctrine, 
 and in believing that it had preserved Christianity 
 from a great danger. The childish sentiment of 
 satisfaction which the University experienced from 
 its victory, is to be found in the miserable verses of 
 tlie University poet, Jean de Meung: — 
 
 Et se lie fut la bonne garde 
 
 De I'Universite qui garde 
 
 Le chief de crestiente, 
 
 Tout eust etu bien tourmento 
 
 Quant, par maulvaise intention, 
 
 En I'aii d' incarnation 
 
 Mille et deux cent, cent et cinquante 
 
 N'est horns vivant q»ii ni'en deinente, 
 
 Fu baillu, et c'est chose voire. 
 
 Pour prendre communi exeniploire 
 
 Ung livre de par le grande diable 
 
 Dit I'Evangile pardurable, 
 
 Que le Saint-Esperit menistre 
 
 Si com il aparoit au tistre . . . 
 
 A Paris, ii'eut home ne feme 
 
 Au parvis devaut Nostra Dame 
 
 Qui lors avoir ne le peust 
 
 A transcrire, s'il li pleust . . . 
 
 ' Matthiru Paris, loc. cit. Fabricius indeed remarks that the 
 condeiunatiou of TJic Eternal Gospel is not mentioned in (Itc 
 Bullary, whereas that of the ])e Pcriculis is reported at Kn^tli in 
 it. {('ode.r Apocn/phas, N. T., iM ed., vol. i. pp. \\?A, 3^8.^ 
 
186 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 L'Uiiiversite, qui lors iere 
 Endormie, leva la cliiere, 
 Du bruit du livre s'esveilla, 
 Ains s'arma pour aller encontre, 
 Quand el vit cet horrible nionstre ... 
 Mais cil qui la le livre mirent 
 Saillirent sus et le reprirent.^ 
 
 The blow thus dealt at The Eternal Gospel could 
 not fail to reach the apostles of the new doctrine. 
 Although John of Parma had the good sense to keep 
 in the background, and to be on his guard, as it is 
 easy to believe, against the exaggerations of his own 
 partisans, yet his zeal for the observance of the rule, 
 his severity against the lukewarm members, raised up 
 powerful enemies against him, who seized the occasion 
 in order to ruin him. A general chapter, held at the 
 Ara Coeli in February, 1257, preferred the gravest 
 accusations against him. He was accused of prefer- 
 ring the doctrine of Joachim to the Catholic faith, 
 and of having as friends Leonard and Gerard, 
 declared Joachimites. He was forced to resign the 
 generalship. An intermediate party was formed 
 between the indifferent portion of the order and the 
 rigorist party : an orthodox and decorous mysticism 
 gained the ascendency in the person of Saint Bona- 
 ventura. The first care of the new general was to 
 bring to trial his predecessor and his two associates, 
 Leonard and Gerard. These two monks were con- 
 demned to irons, to the bread of tribulation and the 
 water of anguish ; that is to say, to the horrors of a 
 subterranean dungeon where no one could visit 
 them. Gerard died there without seeking to renounce 
 his hopes ; ^ he was denied ecclesiastical sepulture ; 
 
 ' Roman de la Rose, verse 11,904:, et seq. of Meon's ed. See His- 
 toriens de la Fr.,\o\. xxi. pp. 78, 119, 120, 698, 768 ; P. Paris Chron. 
 de Saint Denis, vol. iv. p. 374 ; Ancilloniana, 1698, i. pp. 117, 118. 
 
 2 Salimbene, pp. 102, 103, 233. According to another version, 
 Gerard was let out of prison by Saint Bonaventura eighteen years 
 aftei wards, and Leonard died in prison. Fleury, Hist. Eccl. Ch 
 Ixxxiv. No. 27. Salimbene does not speak of Leonard, 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 1 87 
 
 his bones were interred in a corner of the garden set 
 apart for offal. 
 
 As to John, the sympathies which his noble char- 
 acter had won for him, and, above all, the personal 
 friendship of the new general, mitigated his disgrace. 
 He was allowed to select the place of his retreat, and 
 chose the little convent of Greccia, near Rieti. There 
 he lived thirty-two years in solitary seclusion. He 
 retained his Joachimite opinions without being ques- 
 tioned as to them. Two popes, it is said, "thought 
 of making him a cardinal ; the greatest dignitaries of 
 the court of Rome came to him to seek edification.^ 
 About the year 1289 he re-entered active life for a 
 short time; he was anxious, however, to return to 
 the Greeks, for whose reconciliation he had already 
 laboured in his youth ; but disease overtook him at 
 Camerino, and he died there. His legend began to 
 take form in his lifetime : it was modelled in its 
 details on that of Francis of Assisi.- Miracles were 
 wrought at his tomb ; his party was even powerful 
 enough to have him enrolled in the list of the 
 canonised. 
 
 His friends, the Joachimites, with the exception of 
 Gerard, all ended their lives as saints. Ghiscolo, on 
 his deathbed, had such wonderful visions that all the 
 friars who were present were astonished at them.^ 
 The good Salimbeiie continued to follow the joyous 
 life of a spiritual vagabond, sometimes disclaiming 
 against the errors of his youth, sometimes avowing 
 with a certain pleasure that he himself had been at 
 the Supper of the Joachimites, and that he had never 
 known such amiable and pious men."^ As all the heroes 
 
 1 Salimbene, pp. 131, 133, 317. 
 
 - Salimbene, pp. 137-38. In regard to the circumstance of the 
 twelve companions, see pp. 317-19. See also the Lift of Sauite 
 Douceline, p. 136, et seq. (Edition Albanes). 
 
 3 Salimbene, pp. 101, 318. 
 
 4 lUd. pp. 102, 103, 122, 129, 130, 131, 141, 148, 227, 233, 235, 
 236. 
 
188 JOACHIM DI FLOT^. 
 
 of this Biiigular movement were very young, the ex- 
 pression " Eternal Gospel " died long before them. 
 In fact, after 1256 this name disappeared from history, 
 in which it had only figured for two or three years. 
 Its fate resembles one of those banners eagerly made 
 use of by the parties which one sees elevated in thne 
 of crises, to represent for a moment causes destined 
 to many ulterior transformations. 
 
 VI I. 
 
 The Diverse Fortunes of the Doctrine of 
 The Eternal Gospel. 
 
 To-day most people are agreed as to the great 
 divisions of the intellectual history of the Middle 
 Ages. Far from presenting a uniform shadow, as 
 people so often imagine, the great night, whicli 
 extends from the destruction of antique civilisation 
 to the appearance of modern civilisation, unfolds 
 to the eye clearly defined lines of a very intelligible 
 design. The night really only lasted up to the 
 eleventh century. Then took place a renaissance 
 in philosophy, in poetry, in politics, and in art. 
 This renaissance, which was first originated in 
 France, attained its highest point of perfection in 
 the first half of the thirteenth century ; then it was 
 arrested. Fanaticism, and the narrow scholastic 
 spirit, the atrocities of the Dominican inquisition, 
 the pedantry of the University of Paris, and the 
 incapacity of the majority of contemporary sove- 
 reigns, brought about a complete decadence. The 
 fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were, for the 
 whole of Europe, with the exception of Italy, back- 
 ward ages ; ages when thought was stagnant, when 
 no one knew how to write, when art decayed, 
 when poetry was silent; nevertheless, a latent fire 
 
JOACHIM m FLOR. 189 
 
 smouldered in the bosom of Italy. The real and final 
 renaissance was in formation. Italy did a second 
 time for humanity what Greece had done once 
 previously. She re-discovered the principles of the 
 true and the beautiful : she became the mistress 
 of all art, all science, and the preceptress of the 
 human species. . 
 
 There is no great age without its religious move- 
 ment. The renaissance of the twelfth and thir- 
 teenth centuries made attempts at reform. To those 
 who study closely the history of the Middle Ages, 
 the most surprising thing is that Protestantism 
 did not spring into existence three centuries earlier. 
 All the conditions of a religious revolution existed in 
 the thirteenth century ; all were, however, snapped 
 in the bud. There took place in the thirteenth 
 century what might have happened in the six- 
 teenth, if Luther had been burned, if Charles V. 
 had exterminated the reformers, if the Inquisition 
 had succeeded everywhere in Europe as it 
 succeeded in Spain and Italy. Aspirations in the 
 direction of a spmtual church and a purer wor- 
 ship sprang into existence all around. The Eternal 
 Gospel was only one of many attempts to substi- 
 tute a new religious and social order for that which 
 had been founded by the authority of the Church 
 established. 
 
 In like manner, as the Italian renaissance could 
 not have succeeded without the wind which blew 
 on it from the Grecian world, so the religious 
 movements of the thirteenth century were in as 
 many respects the effects of the influence of the 
 Eastern Church. In what concerned The Eternal 
 Gosjyel, I have no manner of doubt that one had 
 to go to the Greek Church to seek for its origin. 
 Abbot Joachim, during the whole of his career, 
 kept up the closest intercourse with Greece. 
 Calabria, where he lived, and where his school was 
 
190 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 continued by a hardly unbroken tradition, was 
 semi-Greek. His principal disciples, the compilers 
 of his legend, the prophetic personages with whom 
 his name is associated, were Greeks.^ He himself 
 made repeated journeys to Greece in order, as it 
 was then said, to labour for the re-union of the two 
 Churches. This reconciliation is cited as the chief 
 preoccupation of all those who cried up his doctrine. 
 John of Parma spent several years amongst the 
 Greeks, and at the close of his life wished to go 
 and die amongst them.^ The whole school of The 
 Eternal Gospel^ from Joachim to Telesphorus of 
 Cosenza, at the end of the fourteenth century, 
 proclaimed with one voice that the Oriental Church 
 w^as the superior of the Latin Church ; that it was 
 better prepared for the renovation about to be 
 accomplished ; that it was through the succour of 
 the Greeks that the reformers were to triumph 
 over the carnal Church of the Latins, and that 
 this reform was to be no other thing than the return 
 to the Spiritual Church of the Greeks. Greece was 
 the refuge of the fraticelli chased from Italy by 
 Boniface VHL Greece, at that time, appeared to 
 be the ideal country to which the thoughts of all 
 reformers turned. " Perhaps they were struck," 
 says Fleury, " with some edifying remains of the 
 ancient discipline which they witnessed there, above 
 all, by the frugality and the penury of their 
 bishops, so far removed from the pomp and temporal 
 grandeur of the Latin bishops of that age."^ 
 
 When we reflect that Greece was the home of 
 Catharism,'^ the analogies of whose doctrines with 
 The Eternal Gospel it is impossible not to recognise, 
 
 1 Acta S. S. Mail, vol. vii. p. 91, etc. 
 
 2 Salimbene, pp. 148-9, 297, 319. 
 •■' Hist. Eccl.^ i. Ixxxiv. No. 35. 
 
 ^ See the History of the Cathari or Albecfeois, by M. C. Schmidt, 
 of Strasburg (Geneva, 1848). 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 191 
 
 when we see, moreover, the school of The Eternal 
 Gospel pursuiug a path similar to that of Catharism, 
 and almost identified with it, we are tempted to 
 regard the former of those doctrines as an off-shoot 
 of the second, engrafted not by direct affiliation 
 but by secret and unavowed influences. Catharism 
 seems thus to have reached the west by two routes, 
 and to have determined, in the Middle Ages, two 
 currents of parallel heresies, producing almost the 
 same results, which were merged by discussion, and 
 were arrested by the same means. These affinities 
 become still more striking when we perceive con- 
 temporary authors ascribing to Amauri de Bene, in 
 the first years of the thirteenth century, doctrines 
 analogous to those of The Eternal Gospel} The 
 doctrines of Amauri themselves bear the strongest 
 analogy to those of the heretics of Orleans of 1022. 
 These latter, however, M. Schmidt does not hesitate 
 to connect with the Cathari Church.^ 
 
 Be this fact as it may, it is impossible to doubt 
 that such ideas of reform did not respond to profound 
 desiderata. Even after their condemnation, the 
 Joachimite ideas continued for nearly a century to 
 agitate men's minds. They survived especially in 
 the south of France, where the writings of the 
 sect were industriously copied and passed from 
 hand to hand. In 1260, a council, called together 
 at Aries by the same Floreut who performed the 
 functions of promoter to the commission of Anagni, 
 
 ' Cf. I. M. Meyenberg De pseudo-Evangdlo JEternn^ §§ 2 and 
 3. St Antoninr? ascribes to Amauri doctrines so identical with those 
 of The Eternal Gospel, that we are to suppose he speaks of him not 
 from direct knowledge, but by inference merely, and aceordim; to 
 what wag the recognised type of all sects imbued with Catharism 
 and mysticism. 
 
 - History of the Cathari, vol, i. p. 28; vol. ii. pp. 151, 287. Sec 
 Dom Bouquet, vol. x. pp. 35, 536, etc. ; Cartulaire de St Pe're de 
 Chartres, vol. i. p. 100, et seq., and the introduction of M. Gucrard 
 p. 219, et seq. 
 
192 JOACHIM Dl FLon. 
 
 peremptorily cuiidemned the partisans of the 
 Joachimite ternaires, and those who declared the 
 era of the Holy Spirit, the rule of the monks, the 
 abolition of images, parables and sacraments to 
 be at hand.^ This same year, so long predicted as 
 fatal, witnessed, in fact, the inauguration of many 
 novelties, the foolish tentatives of Gerard S^garelle 
 and his apostles, and the first epidemic of the flagel- 
 lants.^ Never before had been witnessed such a 
 deluge of prophecies of all kinds,^ nor of so many 
 mendicant sects.^ The last writing of Guillaume de 
 8aint-Amour, which dates from the same period, 
 that book De xintichrist which appears to us so pro- 
 nouncedly jjcirvenu, under the anagram of Nicolas 
 Oresme,^ is almost entirely devoted to the refutation 
 of Joachimite errors, against which, some years 
 previously, the energetic defender of the University 
 had waged such a lively contest. Everywhere 
 people were preoccupied with the future of the 
 Church and its coming trials. " Some," says Guil- 
 laume, " declared with Abbot Joachim that a pacific 
 era is about to commence with the advent of the 
 Holy Spirit, and the appearance of a third Testament, 
 when men shall be exclusively spiritual. Others, again, 
 
 1 u Pi-iesertnn qiiiim in partibus provinciarum quibus licet 
 immeriti in parte praesidemus, jam phirimos etiam Htteratos 
 hujiismodi phantosiis intellexerimus eatenus occnpatos et il- 
 lectos ut pkirima super iis conimentaria facta descripserint, et, 
 demanu ad manum dando circnmferentes, ad extenios transfu- 
 derint nationes." (Council Aries in 1260, in Labhe^s Work; vol. 
 xiv. col. 242.) 
 
 -' Salimbene, pp. 123, 124, 228, 240 ; L>'Argentr6, Coll. Jud., i. 
 367 ; Hist. Litt. de la France, vol. xxi. p. 477. Vide the fragment 
 published by M. Boutaric in the Notices et extra, vol. xx. 2d part, 
 pp. 285-37. 
 
 ^ Salimbene, pp. 234, 235, 265, et seq., 284, 303, 308, et seq. 
 
 < Ibid. pp. 109, 124, 241, 242, 262, 330, 331, 371, 372,_etc. 
 
 * See, in regard to this, M. V. LeOlerc's discussion (Hist. Litt. de 
 la France, vol. xxi. p. 470, et seq.). The wish of Guillaume may 
 be road in Martcne and Durand's Amplissima Collectio, vol. ix. col. 1, 
 273, et seq. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 193 
 
 struck with the retrigidity of charity, and the evils 
 which are more and more multiplying in the Church, 
 announce for the last days the appearance of 
 excellent preachers, who will animate faith; others, 
 again, who promise to the Church many days of 
 peace and prosperity, pretend that its old age will 
 last as long as its former ages, and will in no 
 wise be inferior to these. Tli»e inflexible rector 
 of the University rejects all these consolatory 
 hypotheses. His book is devoted to an exposition of 
 the sombre theories of the Antichrist, to the horrors 
 of the last persecution, and to the flood of errors 
 which shall precede the Judgment. The cessation 
 of the Roman Empire, by reason of the interregnum, 
 the arrival of false missionaries (the mendicants), 
 who shall invade the field of the true pastors, the 
 blindness and the laxity of the prelates, the change 
 in the office of the preachers, the false security in 
 which the Church slumbers, the suspension of miracles, 
 the progress of infidelity, the drying up of charity, 
 and, above all, the promulgation of a new law which, 
 as in previous instances, was to replace the Gospel, 
 appeared to Guillaume as the certain signs of a 
 near catastrophe. In this connection he enveighs 
 with great force against Joachim and his disciples, 
 agaiust those ministers, not of the Holy Ghost, but of 
 the Antichrist, who dare to assert that the Mene, 
 Tekel, Upharsin have already been written upon tlie 
 walls of the Church, that the sacraments of the Chris- 
 tian Church have come to an end, and that the Holy 
 Ghost is still to come. Did not Joachim declare that, 
 in about twelve hundred years after the incarnation 
 of Christ, there would arise in Babylon a new chief, 
 a pontiff' of tire New Jerusalem ; that is to say, of 
 the Church in its third state ? ^lore than sixty 
 years have rolled over since that prediction, and no 
 one has appeared.^ He is, then, only a false prophet. 
 
 ' Col. 1333-84. In the De Pei'imdis Novissimomm Temporum, 
 
 N 
 
194 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 I should deviate from the plan I have laid down 
 were I to attempt to follow the influence of The 
 Eternal Gospel through the latterhalf of the thirteenth 
 century, and the first half of the fourteenth.^ If it 
 were given to us to write that history, we should show 
 that the Franciscan and Joachimite ideas inspired for 
 nearly a century longer a multitude of enthusiastic 
 souls ; we should almost assist at its triumph, when 
 the papacy had fallen into the hands of the feeble 
 Peter Celestine ; we should see the firm successor of 
 that pious and incapable dotard, Boniface VIII., en- 
 ergetically rescind the concessions of his predecessor, 
 and the hatred of the fraticelli inspire the bitter 
 satires of Fra Jacopone, and powerfully contribute to 
 the reputation which that pontiff left behind him.^ 
 About the same time a fanatical monk, Pierre Jean 
 d'Olive, took up in the south of France the most 
 subversive doctrines of Gerard de San-Donnino,^ 
 that the renovation of the world was about to 
 take place, and that it was to be effected by 
 
 p. 38, Guillaume, expressing a similar thought, says fifty-five 
 years, which places the composition of the De Antichristo about 
 five years after the De Perimdis. 
 
 ^ One of the most curious works written under the influence of 
 the Joachimite philosophy is the treatise of Christian symbolism 
 written by Jacques de Carreto, and contained in No. 124 of the 
 St Germain collection. I instance this singular work to some 
 young paleographer. 
 
 ^ Vide Dom Luigi Tosti's Storia di Bonifazio VIII., i. pp. 
 883, et seq., 188, et seq. The Joachimite prophecies respecting 
 this pope are overflowing with hatred ; " Ecce I'huomo della 
 progenie di Scarioto. . . . Neronicaniente regnando, tu morirai 
 sconsolato. Perche tanto desideri il babilonico principato ? " 
 
 3 Gui de Perpignan, in his Summa de Hceresibus, expressly 
 identifies Joachim's errors with those of Pierre-Jean. Vide the 
 pieces published by Father Jeiler in the HistoriscJves Jahrhncli 
 des Gdrres-GeseUschaft, iii. pp. 648-59, and by Father Zingliara 
 in his De Mente Concilii Viennensis in Dejiniendo Dogmate 
 Unionis Animce Humance cu7n Corpore (Rome, 1878), p. 106, et 
 seq. Compare Zeitsclirift fur Kirchengeschichte, vol. vi. (1883), 
 pp. 132-3. 
 
JOACHIM m FLOR. 195 
 
 observiDg to the letter the rule of Saint Francis * 
 tlia t, in like manner, as the crucifixion of Christ 
 had opened a new era, so the moment of the 
 stigmatisation of Saint Francis had put an end to 
 the carnal Church, and marked the commencement 
 of an age when evangelical life should be fully 
 practised : that it was by the virtue and labours 
 of the minor friars that the conversion of the 
 infidels, the Jews, and the Greek Church, which 
 was destined to supersede the carnal Church of 
 the Latins, was to be effected : that the rule of Saint 
 Francis being indeed the evangelical law, it was 
 not surprising that it was persecuted by the carnal 
 Church, just as the Gospel was by the law of the 
 synagogue: that it was necessary that the carnal 
 Church, in order to fill up the measure of its crimes, 
 should condemn the rule of Saint Francis : .that 
 from thence this law, more favourably received by 
 the Greeks, the Jews, the Saracens, the Tartars 
 than by the Latins, should return with these fresh 
 auxiliaries to crush Home, who was unwilling to 
 accept it, that that Church, commonly called, 
 universal, catholic, and militant, was the impure 
 Babylon, the great harlot, given up to simony, to 
 pride, to all manner of vices, and finally to hell, 
 just as the haughty Yashti was repudiated, and 
 the humble Esther crowned. The carnal Church 
 should henceforth be withered up, devoured by the 
 consuming hatred it had vowed against the doc- 
 trine of the saints. 
 
 Again, we should see around Pierre Jean d'Olive a 
 crowd of men, filled with an ardent and pure zeal, 
 preaching more emphatically than ever the reform 
 of the world through poverty, and their memory sus- 
 pended between canonisation and anathema, ac- 
 ccn'ding as the admii-ation excited by their noble 
 character or the horr<jr by their timerity prevailed : 
 heretics in the eyes of some, saints who had wrought 
 
] on JOACHIM DI FLOK. 
 
 miracles iu that of others. Bernard Delicieiix, the 
 pronounced enemy of the inquisition, is an ardent 
 Joachimite.^ The same pretensions discovered by 
 Ulbertin de Casal, Fra Dolcino, Michel de Cesene, 
 acquire an altogether political and special import- 
 ance by the alliance of the exalted party of the 
 Order of Saint Francis with Louis of Bavaria. Once 
 more, we should see the question of poverty 
 dividing the Christian world, kindling the piles, 
 creating an anti-pope : we should see a general 
 of the minor friars, Michel de Cesene,^ defending 
 Franciscan ideas against the papacy, and seeking 
 succour, outside of the Church, against the Church, 
 which condemned him. The third order of Saint 
 Francis would appear to us as the principal centre 
 whence emanated these half religions, half laic sects 
 whose ambition alarmed the Church and civil 
 society : Beguins and Beguines, Fratricelles, Frerots, 
 Bizoques (Binzocchieri, Freres bis, Bisets) Barhozate, 
 Freres pyes, Freres agaches, Freres aux sacs, Freres 
 de la pauvre vie, Flagellants, Lollards, Apostolical 
 brethren, apostles even (for they went the length of 
 giving themselves that name), with whom the ap- 
 pearance of apocryphal Messiahs and pretended 
 incarnations of the Holy Spirit correspond, such as 
 Gonzalve of Cuen9a.^ 
 
 That some bold and popular idea was concealed 
 under these monastic exteriors is a matter which 
 does not admit of any doubt: the rather, when we 
 hear all the above designated sectarians declaring 
 unanimously that they recognise but one God; that 
 
 1 Hanreau, Bernard Delicieux (Paris, 1877), pp. 151-55. 
 
 ^ Michel de Cesene's doctrines were verbatim, those of 
 Joachim, as interpreted by John of Parma and Gerard de San- 
 Donnino. Vide Baluze's MiscelL, vol. i. p. 272, et seq. 
 
 ^ Cf. Direct-inq, p. 200 ; D'Argentre, i. p. 176 ; Fleiiry, Book 
 xci. sees. 42, 59, 60 ; xcvi. sec. 36 ; Tosti, op. cit., i. p. 185, et 
 seq. ; Schmidt, Histoire des Cathares^ passim ; and above all Giii 
 de Perpignan's Swnma de Hceresihus (Paris, 1528, folio). 
 
JOACHIM 1)1 FLOK. 197 
 
 they are not subject to any obedience ; that they imi- 
 tate the hfe of Christ and the apostles ; and that the 
 whole authorit}- of the Roman Church — that Church 
 doomed on account of the malice of the cardinals and 
 the prelates — has passed to the people. The con- 
 ventual habit, in the Middle Ages/ was often only 
 a safe permit, a guarantee of inviolability ; often, too, 
 a pretext for vagabondage, as is proved by the in- 
 numerable decrees of the provincial councils against 
 the monks and vagrant scholars carrying unduly the 
 rehgious vestments. The habit of Saint Francis, 
 bordering upon that of the beggar, was used thus 
 in Italy and in the south of France as a blind for 
 dangerous popular associations; for those condemn- 
 ing work, elevating mendicity to the plain of duty, 
 proclaiming that perfection consisted in going naked ; 
 that prayer was only efficacious when it was made 
 by a person naked; full of declamation and rage 
 against wealth and men of the world ; others de- 
 claring that they alone had the right to cause the 
 Holy Spirit to descend by the imposition of hands, 
 that one could not be saved outside of their order, 
 that the prelates of the carnal Church only merited 
 contempt, that all the popes since Saint Sylvester 
 had been nothing but seducers, with the exception 
 of Pierre Celestine, that no excommunication could 
 reach them, seeing that the rule of Saint Francis was 
 superior to the pope and to the Church. The Order 
 of Saint Francis, as a body, had assuredly the right to 
 repudiate the responsibility of these extravagances ; 
 nevertheless, the presumption of the bonds of parent- 
 age between the divers families of religious mendi- 
 cants rested upon a real fnindation. The same con- 
 fusion took place in respect of the Cathari, who, 
 from the length of their vestments and their austere 
 behaviour, were often ranked amongst the friars of 
 the third order, under the pseudonyms of " 13ons- 
 
 1 Direct-inq, p. 201, ct scq. 
 
198 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 homines " and '' Cagots." If we examine the registers 
 of the Inquisition of Toulouse and Carcassonne, ^ it is 
 not without astonishment we see there that all the 
 condemned of the formidable tribunal were friars of 
 the third Order, or Beguins. Outward appearances, 
 and frequently indications even more slight, deter- 
 mined these inquisitors, who sent to the stake poor 
 unfortunates suspected of Catharism, solely on ac- 
 count of the pallor of their countenances : audierat 
 enim cos solo jyallore notare hwreticos, quasi quos pallor e 
 constaret, limreticos esse certmn esset.^ 
 
 We could not, until after running through the 
 original documents we have just cited, represent to 
 ourselves the importance which sach secret and 
 vagabond societies had acquired in the south of 
 France. The corruption of the clergy provoked 
 these reprisals, which were worse than the evil it- 
 self. Indeed, it is remarkable that all the authors 
 of the times who have really transmitted to us the 
 echo of public opinion, wholly sympathised with the 
 Beguins and the Cathari. These are the saints, 
 while the orthodox priests are the heretics.^ The 
 same feeling was exbibited in a not less striking 
 manner in Lombardy. Milan, in particular, had 
 become a formidable centre of hostility against the 
 Cburch. There, Catharism was openly professed. In 
 1280, the Beguuie Guillelmina represented herself as 
 
 ^ Ph. de Limborch, fflst. Tnquis., cui subjungitur liber sen- 
 tentiarum Inquis, Tolosauae abaniio 1307 ad 1323 (Amsterdam, 
 1692). Baluze's MiscelL, vol. i. p. 213, et seq. 3fSS. of St 
 Oermrmi, Nos. 395, 396 (Acts of the Toulouse Inquisition from 
 1285 to 1304, unpublished), and several other pieces of the Doat 
 collection. Compare (ancient collection) No. 6193. Study 
 Bernard D'dicieux's Trial (Haureau, op. cit.). The Minerva 
 library at Rome is in possession of many like documents. See 
 chiefly the Extracts from Bernard Gui's Practica, in Molinier's 
 L^ Inquisition dans le Midi de la France^ pp. 230, 231. 
 
 - " Gesta episcoporum Leodiensium," in Martene and Darand's 
 Ampliss. Collectio, vol. iv, col. 901. 
 
 ^ See C. Schmidt, Hist, des Cathares^ vol. i. p. 189. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 199 
 
 the Holy Ghost, and after her death miracles were 
 wrought over her tomb. Amidst the extreme com- 
 plication of" the struggles of the time, it is more- 
 over very difficult always to trace with certainty 
 the divisions of the different parties. Alliances 
 were often formed between contrary parties. 
 Thus we see the Cathari openly protected by 
 the Ghibellenes, and the exalted Franciscan party 
 allied more than once with the emperor against 
 the pope. 
 
 But neither these deceptive alliances, nor any of 
 the stratagems by which the sectaries sought to mis- 
 lead the authorities, sufficed to protect them. The 
 Roman Church, seconded by an Order better dis- 
 cipliued than that of Saint Francis, did not cease to 
 pursue the popular associations which sprang from 
 the rule of Assisi. On the one hand, she attempted 
 to regulate the conduct of the inoffensive portions of 
 these devout groups ; on the other, she made against 
 the seditious parties a terrible war of imprisonment 
 and fire. She burned by the thousands the friars of 
 the Third Order and the Beguins in the north of 
 Italy, in the south of France, in Flanders and in 
 Germany, whilst in other parts these were regarded 
 as saints, and their adepts attained to the honours of 
 popular canonisation. The same contradictions ap- 
 pear in historical texts as to the character of their lives 
 and their morals. Here they are represented as being 
 indolent, dehghting in vagabondage and mendicity, 
 and given up to the most ignoble depravity ; there, 
 as industrious associations, existing by their labour, 
 and distinguished by great purity of manners. It is 
 probable that, according to the different countries in 
 which they lived, and the divers names which these 
 associations received, such judgments were founded 
 on truth. These poor folks had only in common a 
 habit analogous to that of the religious mendicants, 
 an austere and devout mien which made them beloved 
 
200 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 of the people, rendered tliera suspicious to the Church 
 people, and made tliem the butts of the wits and 
 the people of quahty. 
 
 T^ie Middle Ages, applying the name of heresy to 
 every deviation from the rule laid down by the 
 Church, this epithet could not fail of being applied 
 to them. This term must not lead us to suppose 
 that they had always a covert doctrine and a fixed 
 creed. Sometimes, no doubt, Catharist ideas, and 
 more frequently still the ideas of The Eternal Gospel 
 were concealed under the habits of the monks ; but 
 most often their heresy was nothing more than the 
 dangerous or suspicious character of their manner 
 of living. After the middle of the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, these associations became only pious fraternities, 
 subject to and ruled by the Church : and it is thus 
 that they continue to this day in Belgium, Italy, 
 and in the south of France. The ideas of reform, 
 which they at first embraced, being persistently 
 narrowed by the official Church, the Universities, 
 and by laic society, was thus stifled or limited to a 
 small number of adepts, who were rendered power- 
 less by the dominant spirit of their order and of the 
 age. 
 
 These aspirations towards an unknown religious 
 future reappeared, however, at intervals, up to 
 a very recent period, if not up to the present day. 
 The deplorable spectacle which papacy presented 
 at the end of the fourteenth century, and at the 
 commencement of the fifteenth, excited a fresh 
 religious enthusiasm. Jean de Rochetaillade, the 
 Avignon prophet, sometimes rivalled Joachim him- 
 self in his severity against the high clergy, and in 
 his Christian boldness.^ A hermit of Calabria, 
 Telesphorus or Theolosphorus, of Cosenza, endeav- 
 oured to revive the name and authority of his 
 
 ' D'Argentr^'s Coll, Jud. i. pp. 374-76. Fleury, Book xcvi. 
 sec. 33. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 201 
 
 countiyman Joachim.^ On the morning of Easter, 
 1386, while he was grieving over the misfortune of 
 the great schism and the decline of the Ciiurch, 
 an angel appeared unto him and commanded him to 
 read the prophecies of Cyrillus and Joachim, announc- 
 ing to him at the same time that he would there find 
 the prediction of the present evils, together with the 
 end for which God had reserved them. Telesphorus 
 hastened to collect the prophecies of Joachim, which 
 he found scattered about the monasteries of Calabria, 
 and wrote a book in order to apply them to the age. 
 He essayed to demonstrate, by means of those 
 mysterious oracles, that the Roman Church was on 
 the eve of being exterminated by the Greeks, 
 Saracens and Tartars, instruments of the divine 
 wrath, who would purify it by stripping it of its 
 temporal goods which had corrupted it : that, in lieu 
 of the false pontiff, there would appear an angelic 
 pastor, who, uniting his forces to those of the emperor, 
 would cause The Eternal Gospel to flourish through- 
 out the whole earth.^ This was the reign of the Holy 
 Gliost, the age of perfection and of goodness, in 
 which the schisms and scandals that had affected the 
 Church in past centuries would disappear. Know- 
 ledge, then, was to be for all, for tlie contemplative 
 life w^ould be open to all, and there would be no 
 need of the ministry of the doctors. The Greeks 
 and the Jews, which the evangelical law had 
 
 not been able to assimilate, w^ould be converted 
 
 » 
 
 1 Acta S. S. Mail, vol. vii. pp. 139-140. Meyeiiberg De pseudo- 
 Evangelio jEto'uo, p. 21, e^ seq. ; Hist. Litt. de la France, vol. 
 XXV. p. 257. Laporte du Theil's Extracts, vol. ix. p. 100 (No. 
 1108 Ottobonien). 
 
 -"Insurget sanctissima et novo religio, qnie erit libera et 
 spiritiialis, in qua Romanus Pontifex dominabitur spiritualiter 
 in onini gente a mari usque ad mare. Erit autem illud in 
 tempore vel circa tempus persecution is Babylonia novaj, id est 
 Roniffi, teni[)ore angelici Pastoris, quando atUicta nimis ecclesia 
 liberabitur a jugo servitutis illius." 
 
202 JOACHIM DI FLOR. 
 
 and would surpass in their turn in holiness and 
 in fervour the ancient Latin people. This was, we 
 see, a reproduction, pure and simple, of the dreams 
 of Joachim, John of Parma, and of Pierre-Jean 
 d'Olive. 
 
 In 1388 these ideas were again preached at Paris 
 by one Thomas de Puglia, who, like thousands of 
 others, announced the advent of the reign of the 
 Holy Ghost, the end of the domination of the prelacy, 
 and proclaimed the inutility of the sacraments. The 
 Bishop of Paris, Pierre d'Ougemont, delivered him 
 over to the secular arm ; but from the reign of Charles 
 v., good sense had made its influence felt in the 
 world. The doctors pronounced him a lunatic, and 
 his book only was burned.^ Guillaume de Helder- 
 nissem and " the intellectual brotherhood " resusci- 
 tated the same doctrines in the Flemish country 
 about 1411.2 They found in Pierre d'Aill}^, then 
 Bishop of Cambrai, another Guillaume de Saint- 
 Amour : I mean a zealous guardian of the Gallican 
 tradition, a tradition essentually episcopal, and 
 always opposed to the sectarial and conventual 
 spirit. 
 
 The sixteenth century witnessed more than once 
 the resuscitation of the same dreams.^ It is very 
 remarkable that, according to the first authors of 
 reform, Joachim was an auxiliary. His apocryphal 
 works were read with avidity by Protestant public- 
 ists, eager to discover their ancestors. J. Wolf, 
 in particular, in the compilation which he entitled, 
 Lectionimi Memorahiliimi et Reconditaruyn Centenarii 
 XVI. (Lauingen, 1600), collected all the passages 
 of Joachim and of the Joachimites which favoured 
 the doctrines or the antipathies of his co-religion - 
 
 1 D'Argentre, Coll. Jud., i. 2cl part, p. 151. 
 - Ibid. i. 2d part, p. 207. 
 
 •^ See on this point the monograph of Meyenberg, already 
 cited several times. 
 
JOACHIM Dl FLOll. 203 
 
 ists.i It would be impossible to imagine a more 
 fantastical conglomeration of maledictions. Those 
 Avho regard the Middle Ages as an epoch of perfect 
 submission to the Church would be surprised at the 
 implacable hostility and concentrated fury of the 
 tone employed. 
 
 We will not inquire whether, in our days, Joachim 
 
 ^ Here are several of tlie curious passages. ( Wolf, i. p. 488, 
 et seq. Most of tlieiii I have verified and found correct. 
 
 "Nullus populoruni legitur ad tantam amariludiuem per- 
 duxisse Romanam Ecclesiam sicut domesticus Aleniannus. — • 
 Videat Ecclesiam si, de acceptandis et improbandis electionibus 
 principum, confusionis maculani non incurrit : qui tangit piceni 
 inquinatur ab ea ; qui comuiunicat superbo induct superbiam. 
 Intra Ecclesiam Eomanam sunt mercenarii plurimi non pastores 
 qui etiam bestire dicuntur a vastando, dracones a saeviendo, 
 strutliiones a simulando, sirence a luxuriando pilosi a propinquos 
 aftiando. Transcendit Papale prretoriura cunctas curias in calum- 
 niosis litibus et qiisestibus extorquendis. — Ad Petrum dictum 
 fuit : quum senueris, alius te cinget et ducet quo tu non vis. — 
 Quid dicam de summo pontifice Aarone, qui niodernos prtTsules 
 representat ; qui ad instantiam populi qui egressus fuerat de 
 ^gypto vitulum conflavitet sculptile, quod totum ad librum 
 Decretalium referendum est, in quo omnis dolus et calumnia 
 perseverat : ac per hoc curia Sedis Petri nullum pontificat qui 
 hujus simulacra non adorat. Quod Deus minus puniet laicos 
 quam clericos et prjietatos, quia minus voluntatem Dei cog- 
 noverunt. Quod principes alemannorum jura temporalia execu- 
 tient at Ecclesia Romana. — Quod Ecclesiaprius confundenda et 
 spolianda et praedanda ac captivanda est ab Imperio. — Quod 
 Ecclesia putabit ut Imperium alemannorum et regnum Franci?e 
 sibi favorem impenderent et a cunctis molestiis eam liberarent, 
 sed nihil ab eis habebit prosperum. — Quod auctor usque modo 
 prohibitus est revelare et denudare ignominiam matris sune 
 Ecclesia? sed nunc cogitur prodere ejus iniquitates. Ait enim. 
 Pudorem mihi ingero, quia meie matris pudenda denudo. — Quod 
 oppressi ab ecclesiasticis damant ad l)eum dicentes : O Deus 
 quosque non vindicas sanguinem innocentum sub altari claman- 
 tium. — Quod Ecclesia Latina et Romana graviora quam Graeca 
 passura est in proximo, quia nequiora commisit. — Quod ipsi 
 })ra3lati et Elcclesia cariialis erubescere deferent ad ri'durgutionem 
 virorum spiritualium et doctorum et a cul[)a desistcre. Sod 
 quia factus est eis fronis meretricis et induruit malitia, nolunt 
 erubescere. — Quod apprehendendus est Petrus, scilicet Summus 
 Pi»ntifex, et ligandus," etc. 
 
204 JOACHIM Dl FLOR. 
 
 might still claim any legitimate posterity.' In order 
 to preserve the precise sense of the terms Eternal 
 Gospel, we believe that they ought to be limited to the 
 first phase of that vast movement, whose centre was 
 the order of Saint Francis, and which originated some 
 curious popular aberrations. Such as it is, in spite of 
 its shortcomings and its ill success, this tentative is 
 not any the less the most daring attempt at religious 
 creation of which modern centuries offer an example ; 
 and it may be said that it might have changed the 
 face of the world if all the disciplined and reflective 
 forces of the thirteenth century had not suddenly 
 arrested it. The Roman Church, the University of 
 Paris, the Order of Saint Dominic, the civil power, so 
 often enemies, were found to be leagued against pre- 
 tensions which would, at the very least, have changed 
 the fundamental conditions of human society. The 
 atrocious means employed to extinguish these strange 
 doctrines revolt us: a great many laudable aspira- 
 tions were included in the condemnation Avhich over- 
 took them : we may say, nevertheless, that true 
 progress did not result from the labours of these 
 well-meaning sectaries. It was a similar movement 
 to this which carried the human mind in the direction 
 of science, political reforms, and the definitive con- 
 stitution of civil society. As early as 1255, it can be 
 discovered that progress, just as we hear it said in 
 modern society, comes from on high and not from 
 below, from reason, and not from imagination, from 
 good sense, and not from enthusiasm, from sensible 
 men, and not from illuminali who seek in chimerical 
 approximations for the secrets of destiny. True it is 
 that the thinker can only respectfully salute the man 
 who, permeated with a high idea of human life, pro- 
 
 1 We must not forget the beautiful romance Spiri Dion, in 
 which Joachim's figure was skilfully drawn and introduced into 
 the picture with marvellous art. On this point Madame Sand 
 owed a creat deal to M. Pierre Leroux. 
 
JOACHIM DI FLOR. 205 
 
 tests against the inhereut imperfection of every social 
 state, and dreams of some ideal law which will con- 
 form to the needs of his heart ; but any number of 
 efforts cannot overstep the limits of the possible. 
 The world is the result of causes too complicated 
 to permit of its being confined to any absolute 
 system. No creed can ever express the progress of 
 humanity in the past, still less embrace the rule of its 
 future. 
 
MARCUS-AURELIUS. 
 
 It is the glory of sovereignty that two models of 
 irreproachable virtue are to be found in its ranks, 
 and that the most beautiful lessons of patience and 
 disinterestedness could proceed from a condition 
 which we may suppose was unreservedly exposed 
 to all the seductions of pleasure and vanity. Tlie 
 throne sometimes is an aid to virtue ; and Marcus- 
 AureUus certainly would not have been what he 
 was if it had not been that he exercised supreme 
 power. It is the faculties which such an excep- 
 tional position alone puts into exercise, alongside 
 of the reality, which make it appear to better ad- 
 vantage. It is disadvantageous to fame when the 
 sovereign, the servant of all, cannot allow his 
 genius to have free scope ; but such a situation, 
 when there is brought to bear on it an elevated 
 soul, is very favourable to the development of the 
 individual genius and talent which constitute the 
 moralist. The sovereign really worthy of the name 
 observes humanity from his exalted position in the 
 most complete manner. His point of view resembles 
 that of the philosophical historian — that which re- 
 sults from those sweeping glances cast over our 
 poor species ; it is a sweet sentiment mixed with 
 resignation, piety and hope. The cold severity of 
 an artist cannot belong to a sovereign. The first 
 condition of art is freedom ; but the sovereign, sub- 
 jected as he is to the prejudices of middle-class 
 
MARCUS-AURELIUS. 207 
 
 society, is the least free of meD. He has not the 
 right to his own opinions ; he has hardly any riglit 
 to his OAvn tastes. A crowned Goethe even could 
 not avow that royal disdain for bourgeois ideas, 
 that haughty indifference to practical results, which 
 are the essential characteristics of the artist ; but 
 one can imagine the mind of a good sovereign like 
 that of a sympathetic Goethe, a Goethe converted 
 to the good, brought to see that there is some- 
 thing greater than /irt, led to estimate men by the 
 habitual nobleness of his thoughts and by the feel- 
 ing of his own happiness. 
 
 Such were these two admirable sovereigns, Anto- 
 ninus the Pious and Marcus-Aurelius, at the head of 
 the greatest empire that ever existed. History only 
 presents another example of this heredity of wisdom 
 upon the throne, in the persons of the three great 
 Mogul emperors, Baber, Huma'ioun, Akbar, the latter 
 of whom shows, when compared with Marcus-Aurelius, 
 some traits of striking resemblance. The salutary 
 principle of adoption had made of the imperial 
 court, in the second century, a true nursery of 
 virtue. The noble and learned Nerva, in estab- 
 lishing that principle, assured the happiness of 
 the human species for nearly three hundred years, 
 and gave to the world the most beautiful century of 
 progress which has been conserved by the memory 
 of man. 
 
 It is Marcus-Aurelius himself who has sketched 
 for us in the first book of his Thoughts this latter 
 admirable plan, in which we see moving, in a 
 celestial light, the noble and pure features of his 
 father, mother, ancestors and masters. Thanks to 
 him, we can comprehend Avhat the old Roman 
 families, who had witnessed the reign of the bad 
 emperors, guarded still of honesty, dignity, riglit, 
 the civil spirit, and, if I may say so, republican. 
 People lived there in the adnn'ration of Cato, of 
 
208 MARCUS-AURELIUS. 
 
 Brutus, of Thraseas, and of the great Stoics, whose 
 souls had not been subjugated by tyranny. The 
 reign of Domitian was there abhorred. Tlae sages 
 who opposed him without flinching were honoured 
 as heroes. The advent of the Antonines was only 
 the succession to power of the society whose just 
 colours Tacitus has handed down to us, a society of 
 sages brought into existence by the league of all 
 those who had revolted against the despotism of the 
 first Csesars. 
 
 Neither the oriental pomps' of some oriental 
 royalties, founded upon the baseness and the 
 stupidity of men, nor the pedantic pride of the 
 royalties of the middle ages, founded upon an 
 exaggerated sentiment of heredity, and upon the 
 simple faith of the Germanic races in the rights of 
 blood, can give us an idea of this wholly republican 
 sovereignty of Nerva, of Trajan, of Hadrian, of 
 Antoninus, and of Marcus- Aurelius. There was 
 nothing of the hereditary prince or of right divine; 
 none of the military captain; it was a kind of 
 grand civil magistrature, with nothing which 
 resembled a court, nor which stripped the emperor 
 of his individual character. Marcus-Aurelius was 
 neither little nor much of a king in the proper 
 sense of the term ; his fortune was immense, but 
 consisted wholly of patrimony ; his aversion to the 
 Caesars (the emperors before Nerva), whom he 
 regarded as a species of Sardanapalus, magnificent, 
 debauched and cruel, appeared at every minute of 
 his life. The civility of his manners was perfection ; 
 he gave back to the Senate the whole of its ancient 
 importance ; when he was at Rome he never missed 
 a sitting, nor quitted his place until the Consul had 
 pronounced the formula : Nihil vos rnoramur, 
 Patres consci'ipti. 
 
 The sovereignty thus possessed in common by a 
 group of the elite of meu, which bound them 
 
MARCUS-AURELIUS. 209 
 
 together or separated them, according to the 
 exigencies of the moment, lost a part of that 
 attraction which renders it so dangerous. One 
 reached the throne without having to canvass for 
 it, but also without owing it to birth or to a kind of 
 abstract right ; one attained to it undeceived, 
 wearied of men, prepared by long authority. The 
 empire was a burden, which one accepted when 
 one's hour came, without one's dreaming of precipi- 
 tating that hour. Marcus-Aurelius was designated 
 for it so young that his idea of reigning had hardly 
 any commencement, and did not exercise over his 
 mind a moment's seduction. At eight years old, 
 when he was already proesul of the Salic priests, 
 Hadrian remarked this brooding, sweet child, and 
 loved him fur his good nature, his docility, and his 
 incapacity to lie. At ten years old, the empire was 
 assured to him. He waited patiently for it for 
 twenty-two years. The evening on which Anton- 
 inus felt himself to- be dying, and caused to be 
 carried into his chamber the statue of Fortune, had 
 for him neither surprise nor joy. He had for a 
 long time been surfeited by the joys which he had 
 never tasted ; he had, by reason of the profound- 
 ness of his philosophy, perceived their absolute 
 vanity. 
 
 His youth had been tranquil and pleasant, 
 divided between the pleasures of the country, 
 exercises in Latin rhetoric in the slightly frivolous 
 manner of his master Fronto, and philosophical 
 meditations. Greek pedagogy had attained its 
 perfection, and, as happens in these sort of things, 
 perfection was apjiroaching decadence. The 
 lettered men and the philosophers were divided 
 in opinion, and were engaged in ardent combat. 
 The rhetoricians dreamed only of aftected ornaments 
 of discourse ; philosophers favoured almost bald- 
 ness and negligence of expression. In spite of his 
 
 o 
 
210 MARCUS-AURELIUS. 
 
 friendship for Fronto, and his adjurations against 
 the latter, Marcus-Aurelius was soon an adept in 
 philosophy. Junius Rusticus became his favourite 
 master, and won him wholly over to the severe 
 discipline which he opposed to the ostentation of 
 the rhetoricians. Rusticus continued to be the con- 
 fidant and the intimate counsellor of his august 
 pupil, who acknowledged having received from him 
 his taste for a simple style, for a demeanour noble 
 and serious, not to mention a still superior benefit, 
 to wit : " I am indebted to him for my knowledge of 
 the 'Conversations of Epictetus/ which he lent me 
 from his own library." Claudius Severus, the 
 peripatetic, laboured to the same end, and 
 ultimately led young Marcus to philosophy. 
 Marcus had a habit of calling him his brother, and 
 appeared to have had for him a deep attachment. 
 
 Philosophy was at that time a kind of religious 
 profession, implying mortification and rules almost 
 monastic. From the age of twelve Marcus assumed 
 the philosophic mantle, learned to sleep upon a 
 hard bed, and to practise all the austerities of 
 ascetic stoicism. It required his mother on several 
 occasions to induce him to spread a few skins 
 upon his couch. His health was more than once 
 affected by this excessive rigour. But that did not 
 prevent him from presiding at feasts, or from i'ul- 
 filling his duties as a youthful prince, with that 
 affable air which in him was the result of the 
 greatest disinterestedness. 
 
 His hours were as strict as those of a religious 
 recluse. In spite of his feeble health, he could, 
 thanks to the sobriety of his regime and to the 
 strictness of his morals, lead a life of labour and 
 fatigue. He had not what is called esprit^ and he 
 had very little passion. Esprit rarely succeeds 
 apart from a certain amount of malignity. It is 
 accustomed to do this by turns which are neither 
 
MARCUS- AURELIUS. ^11 
 
 ^vllolly good-iiatiiied nor troublesome. Marcus 
 understood nothing* perfectly — except duty. What 
 he lacked was the kissing of a fairy at his biith, a 
 tiling quite philosophical in its way ; 1 mean the 
 art of unbending to nature and to gaiety, which 
 teaches that abstinence and sustenance are not every- 
 thing, and that life might as well be summed up in 
 " laughter and mirth." 
 
 In every art he had for masters the most eminent 
 professors. Claudius Severus instructed him in 
 peripateticism ; Appollonius of Chalcis was brought 
 expressly from the East by Antoninus to take charge 
 of his adopted son, who appears to have been a 
 perfect preceptor ; Sextus of Cheronea, the nephew 
 of Plutarch, the accomphshed stoic ; Diognetus, who 
 trained him to love asceticism ; Claudius Maximus, 
 always brimful of fine sentences ; Alexander of 
 Cotyus, who taught him Greek ; Herodus Atticus, 
 Avho recited to him the ancient harangues of 
 Athens. His exterior was that of his masters 
 themselves ; habits simple and modest, beard 
 almost neglected, body attenuated and reduced to 
 a shadow, eyes twitching with hard labour. No 
 study, not even that of painting, was strange to 
 him. With Greek he was famihar ; when he re- 
 flected on philosophical subjects he thought in that 
 language ; but his solid mind discovered the folly 
 of literary exercises, in which Hellenic education 
 was lost; his Greek style, though correct, has some- 
 thing artificial, which smells of the midnight oil. 
 ]\iorality was to him the last word of existence, 
 and he brought to bear on it constant application. 
 
 How did these respectable pedagogues, none of 
 thom of any consequence, succeed in forming such a 
 man? This is a question which one asks oneself 
 Avith some surprise. To judge of it by the ordinary 
 analogies, it had all the appearance that an educa- 
 tion so overdone would turn out to be the very 
 
212 MARCUS-AURELIUS. 
 
 worst. But to speak the trutl), j\larciis, superior 
 to all these masters who liad been selected from 
 every corner of the globe, had a single master 
 whom he revered above them all ; and that was 
 Antoninus. The moral value of the man is in pro^ 
 portion to his faculty of admiration. It was be- 
 cause Marcus-Aurelius had by his side the most 
 beautiful model of a perfect life, and one whom 
 he understood and loved, that he became what he 
 was. 
 
 Beware of " Csesarising " or losing your true colour ; that 
 approaches. Preserve thyself simple, good, pure, grave, the 
 enemy of pomp, the friend of justice and religion, benevolent, 
 human, firm in the practice of duties. Make every effort to 
 remain such as philosophy would have thee do ; revere the 
 gods, watch the preservation of men. Life is short, the only 
 fruit of earthly life is to maintain one's soul in a holy frame, 
 to do actions useful to society. Act always like a disciple of 
 Antoninus ; recall to thyself his constancy in the accomplish- 
 ments of the prescriptions of reason, the equanimity of his dis- 
 position in all situations, his holiness, his serenity of countenance, 
 his extreme gentleness, his contempt for vain-glory, his deter- 
 mination to penetrate the meaning of things ; how he never 
 allowed anything to pass before he had examined and well 
 understood it ; how he bore unjust reproaches without recrimi- 
 nating ; how he did nothing with precipitation ; how he would 
 not listen to detractors ; how carefully he studied chai^acter and 
 action ; neither spiteful nor fastidious, nor suspicious, nor 
 sophistical : content with so little as to house, sleep, garments, 
 food, service ; laborious, patient, sober, so n)uch so that he 
 could occupy himself till night in the same business without 
 having to leave for his necessary wants, except at the usual 
 hours. And that friendship always constant, equable, and that 
 goodness in supporting contradiction, and that joy in receiving 
 counsel better than his own ; and that piety without supersti- 
 tion ! Think of these things, so that the last hour may find 
 thee like him, with a consciousness of good accomplished. 
 
 The consequence of this austere philosophy 
 might have produced stiffness and severitj^ But 
 here it was that the rare goodness of the nature 
 of Marcus-Aurelius shone out in all its brilliancy. 
 His severity was confined only to himself. The 
 
MARCUS-AURELIUS. 213 
 
 fruit of this great tension of mind is inexhanstible 
 benevolence. His whole life was a study of liow to 
 render good for evil. After some sad experience of 
 human perversity, he can only contrive in the even- 
 ing to note down the following: "If thou canst do 
 it, correct them ; in the contrary case, remember 
 thou how thou must act towards those who had 
 bestowed kindness on thee. The gods themselves 
 are benevolent to these creatures ; they aid them 
 (so great is their bounty !), bestow on them health, 
 riches, and glor^^ ; to thee it is permitted to do 
 as the gods." Another day men were very wicked ; 
 for here is what he writes on his tablets : " Such 
 is the order of nature : some men of that sort must, 
 of necessity, act thus. To wish that it be 
 otherwise is to wish that the fig-tree should 
 produce no figs. Remember thou, in a word, 
 this : In a very short time thou and he will 
 die ; soon after, your names will be remembered 
 no more." These reflections on universal forgiveness 
 recur continually. 
 
 It is on rare occasions that he mixes with that 
 superlative kindness an imperceptible smile. " The 
 best way to revenge oneself on the wicked is not to 
 render them like for like," or, with a soft emphasis 
 of pride : "It is a royal thing, when one does good, 
 to remember the evil that is in himself." One day 
 he has to reproach himself: "Thou hast forgotten 
 that this holy relationship reunites each man with 
 the human species ; a relationship not of blood 
 and of birth, but a participation in the same intel- 
 ligence. Thou liast forgotten that the reasonable 
 soul of each person is a god, a thing derived from 
 the Supreme Being." 
 
 In the business of life he must have been ex- 
 quisite, though, no doubt, a little simple, like the 
 majority of men who are very good. lie was 
 sincerely humble, without hypocrisy, make-beheve, 
 
214 MARCUS-AUEELIUS. 
 
 or studied deceit. One of the maxims of the ex- 
 cellent emperor was that the wicked are unhappy, 
 that one is wicked only in spite of himself and 
 through ignorance; he grieves for those who are not 
 like himself; he did not believe in the right of 
 imposing on them. 
 
 He perceived clearly the baseness of men, but he 
 did not avow it. This habit of blinding oneself 
 willingly was the defect of the hearts of the Mite. 
 The world not being such as they would wish it, 
 they deceived themselves in order to see it other- 
 wise than it was. Hence he was a little lenient 
 in his judgments. With Marcus-Ain-elius, this 
 pliableness produces in us sometimes a cause of 
 irritation. If we were to believe him, his masters, 
 several of Avhom were mediocre enough, must have 
 been without exception superior men. We should 
 have to admit that everybody about him was 
 virtuous. It is at such a point as this that we 
 are compelled to ask if that brother, upon whom 
 he has made so great an eulogium in his acts of 
 thanks to the gods, was not his brother by adoption, 
 the debauched Lucius Verus. It is certain that the 
 good emperor was capable of gross illusions when 
 the matter in hand Avas the rendering to others their 
 proper meed of virtue. 
 
 No person of sense will deny that his was a great 
 soul. But had he a great mind ? Yes ; since he saw 
 into the infinite depths of duty and of conscience. 
 He lacked decision only in one point. He never 
 dared deny absolutely the supernatural. AVe cer- 
 tainly can share his dread of atheism ; we under- 
 stand perfectly what he meant when he speaks to 
 us of his horror of a world without God and without 
 Providence. But that which we little comprehend 
 is when he speaks to us seriously of the gods inter- 
 vening in human affairs through the will of par- 
 ticular persons. The meagreness of his scientific 
 
MARCUS- AURELIUS. 215 
 
 education can alone explain such weakness. To 
 protect himself from vulgar errors, he had neither 
 the nimbleuess of Hadrian nor the adroitness of 
 Lucian. But it must be added that these errors 
 were in him of no consequence. The supernatural 
 was not the basis of his piety. His religion was 
 limited to some medical superstitions, and to a 
 patriotic condescension for old usages. The initia- 
 tions of Eleusis did not appear to have occupied a 
 large place in his moral life. His virtue, like that 
 of the present day, rested on reason and upon 
 nature. Saint Louis was a very virtuous raau, and, 
 according to the ideas of his time, a very good 
 sovereign, because he was a Christian. Marcus- 
 Aurelius was the most pious of men, not because he 
 was a Pagan, but because he was an accomplished 
 man. He was the embodiment of human nature, 
 and not of a fixed religion. Whatever may be 
 the religious and philosophical revolutions of the 
 future, his grandeur will not suffer any reproach, 
 for it rests entirely upon that which can never 
 perish — upon excellence of heart. 
 
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