Volume 6 — Translated From The Journal De Bruxelles. Bishop Dupanloup's Speech At The Catholic Congress Of Malines.

Permit me, gentlemen, first of all to thank you for having kept up and continued your excellent congress. I congratulate you not only on the sacred flame which animates you, or the zeal which shines so highly in your public sessions, but also on the works which are the enduring fruits of your meetings. In reading, yesterday and this morning, the volumes which contain the reports of the proceedings of your former sessions, I have been astonished at the amount of information, at the resolutions, and the useful institutions which have resulted from your labors.

You have done a good work, a sacred and fruitful work; bonum opus. For this I give thanks to God, the author of all good and after him to his eminence the cardinal archbishop of Malines, who, in his wisdom, has found the means of sustaining your work in spite of all opposition. (Prolonged applause.)

The presence, on this occasion, of Monsignor Dechamps will not permit of my expressing all that I feel in my heart toward him. I remember with pleasure that my first battles at Liege were fought under the inspiring influence of his noble example. Twenty-one years have elapsed since then, and, while these years have left the marks of age upon me, it seems as if they have only had the effect of making him younger. (Laughter and applause.)

Having told you of the deep impression which has been made upon me, relative to the praiseworthy character of your work, it will hardly be expected that I should attempt to fan the flame of your zeal: that would be useless. My object at present is, just by a few simple words, to add something if I can to that sacred fire burning in your hearts, of whose results, as set forth in the proceedings of your last sessions, I have read with so much admiration.

You need not fear, then, that I will, on the present occasion, as happened three years ago, impose upon your good nature. (Cries from all parts of "No, no! Speak, speak at length.") To abuse it this time is impossible, for my strength will not permit. I shall, consequently, be on my guard against the temptations to which one is exposed before such an audience as this.

I wish simply to remind you of the words of St. Paul, which are applicable now: "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." Noli vinci a malo, sed vince malum bono. You will perceive that these are words of great importance; and, with your permission, I shall offer a few remarks upon them. They are words deserving of serious consideration, for evil surrounds us, or rather presses upon us. This evil is present, acting, speaking. We must overcome this evil, but we must overcome it not by evil, but by good; in bono. Here we see our duty. The evil, gentlemen, has been in the world for a long time, and for this reason we should neither be astonished at it nor discouraged in our efforts. Let me simply remind you of the few last centuries. What has Protestantism done? It has attacked the church which was in the sixteenth century. What has the eighteenth century done? It has attacked Christianity. The nineteenth century, gentlemen, has attacked everything—it has attacked God, the soul, reason, morals, society, the distinction between good and evil. Yes, gentlemen, everything is to-day shamefully, audaciously, impudently attacked. (Prolonged applause.) Here we see the extent and the intensity of the evil; here we see the necessity of overcoming it with good. We can do it; not without effort, it is true; but still we can do it. For us is reserved, henceforth, the glory of defending the law of reason, as well as that of faith; the natural, as well as the supernatural; the immortality of the soul, and the existence of the Deity, against the most audacious and the most foolish enemies that have ever been known. (Applause.)

I tell you, nevertheless, that the battle is a hard one, and certainly the acclamations which, on this occasion, greet the names of the church, the pope, and the holy Virgin, show that the evil is serious, that the sore is deeply seated, that the disease has thoroughly infected souls that are dear to us, and for which we ought to fight; has laid hold upon souls dear to us, and which we should save from ruin. Ah! gentlemen, what ought we not to do in order to save souls! We should be prepared to sacrifice our strength, blood, our lives if necessary. This is the price of victory; and that you may not forget it, the cross which is raised over this assembly reminds you of what is the price of souls. (Sensation.)

The struggle, then, is a severe one, and it is especially so now, seeing that never at any previous period has evil had more powerful means employed in its service than at the present time. We have to encounter not only against an immense, concealed organization, that of secret societies, the ramifications of which extend on all sides, but against a vast public organization, and against a press which spreads calumnies and lies in every quarter.

From whatever point of view we look at it, the contest is a terrible one. And observe, gentlemen, that the propaganda of evil knows no limits, and respects nothing; it attacks the rich, the poor, women, children, young girls. What do I say? It attacks even the dying, doing violence shamefully to their consciences, and snatching from them the consolation to be derived from a return to the faith. I ask these madmen, (for after all we are not here in the dark, but we fight in the light of day.) Whence came the idea of inducing any one to sign this infernal compact? What sort of man can he be who will persuade his fellow-creatures to enter into an engagement of this kind? And yet there are men who yield! Yes, there are men who pledge themselves never to return, even to their dying hour, to the religion and the hearts of their wives, to the religion and hearts of their daughters; for this is what these wicked, these barbarous separations amount to! (Sensation.)

The hatred of religion, gentlemen, is nowhere more marked than in Belgium. But I may add—what will, perhaps, astonish you when I say it—that it is to your honor it is so; for it is doubtless because they feel sensibly the power of your religion, of your faith, of your zeal, that they have been driven to hate so bitterly. It is to your honor, for it proves that you are a Catholic nation, the most Catholic, perhaps, that there has yet been.

But, in spite of these good and solid reasons for battling on, some are frequently tempted to ask, "Is the struggle to go on for ever? It is sufficient to wear out the stoutest courage." Well, gentlemen, I tell you that, under different phases, the struggle will be eternal. Do you wish to have the proof of this? Hear it, gentlemen, from the mouth of the Master; hear it with that respect which his divine word commands: "The world hates you, but you know that it hated me before it hated you." And again: "I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves. If they have persecuted me, they will persecute you. The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord. If they have called the master Beelzebub, how much more will they also call his servants!"

You understand, then, gentlemen, it is what is good they persecute in you—it is the good, it is justice, it is the liberty of souls, it is eternal glory that they hate in you. It is the adorable name of Jesus Christ which they persecute in you. This is to your honor; and allow me to say, it is to the particular glory of that society with which Belgium is honored, that society which has provided for your children such highly accomplished and devout masters, that society the members of which cultivate so successfully in your midst the sciences and letters, and who are, I may say, the princes of learning and of Catholic divinity. (Applause.)

But if Jesus Christ has predicted persecution, he says to us at the same time, Fear not; nolite timere. And St. Augustine in his admirable comment on this exhortation says: "You complain, you are astonished, at seeing a flood of persecution rising against you. You cry out, Where, then, O Lord! is thy justice? But God answers you, Where, then, is your faith? Did I promise you anything else than from the height of my cross I baptized you in my blood? Did you become a Christian in order to enjoy here below all temporal prosperity? Num quid Christianus factus es ut in hoc saeculo floreres?"

Let us look more closely into this great question. It may certainly be asked, Since God holds in his eternal hands the hearts of all nations in every age—since he can turn the hearts of princes as he wills, may it not be presumed that he will put a check upon the passions of men, and allow his children to enjoy eternal peace? Well, no. "As high," says the prophet, "as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my thoughts above yours." What, then, does he to whom belongs the wisdom and the power think on this subject? Gentlemen, God, in his eternal councils, has judged that there is nothing more glorious for him, nothing more salutary for man, than that good was to prevail by conflict. Overcome evil with good, is the tower of strength of the divine power. God has thought—and let this thought, gentlemen, sink deep into your hearts; for you all, whatever your condition in life, have need frequently to meditate upon those teachings of Christianity which are at once a solid foundation and a glorious crown; God has thought, I say, that conflict in this world is necessary, that it is more worthy of him, and more worthy of us. In leaving men free to choose the good, God knows that there is the possibility of evil, which he has, thereby, hazarded; but he has ordained that there shall be conflict and struggle, without which that glorious thing we call virtue, virtus, would be unknown in the world.

And not only has he thought that, even after the fall, we were still great enough to be equal to great trials, but he has thought, also, that it would be more worthy of him and of us for us to pass through those trials. So, gentlemen, when Christ descended on earth, he chose the lot of suffering and of the cross. And St. Paul has found this foundation so solid, that he has made it the basis of his doctrine when he says that it was necessary that Christ should suffer in order that he might be raised in glory.

Well, permit me, gentlemen, to use this plainness of speech, for we are here as a family. I believe that God has judged rightly. I believe that bold adversaries are better for us than partial friends and unbounded prosperity. I believe that he will never leave our sufferings without their compensations. There is no age that has not had its glory. There are periods of consolation. Sometimes the sun rises and all seems easy.

We are told in Scripture that these bright periods often follow the darkness. There are times when the light of faith seems to be obscured. There are sometimes grievous misunderstandings among the friends of God, and sometimes deplorable manifestations of self-will. In this season of darkness, under the cover of this night, the beasts of prey leave their hiding-places: in ipsa hora pertransibunt bestiae. We hear men saying, God is evil. Property is robbery. We must have a new morality. And they would instil these things into the minds of your wives and your children. This is what we hear in the night. But the sun rises, and immediately these creatures retire into their holes. (Laughter.) Then the good man opens his door, sees that the weather is fine, that the sky is clear, and he goes forth to works of charity and virtue, laboring on in lively hope until the return of the darkness. (Applause.)

It is true that, when we see so much evil in the world, when we feel it near to us, and experience its effects, we are apt to become alarmed. But that would be wrong. A short time ago, on returning from Rome, where every one goes for consolation and hope, I passed through Pisa, where I found an admirable type of the church in the leaning tower of which you have all heard. Those who are ignorant of the secret of the skilful architect to whom we are indebted for this wonderful monument, cannot contemplate it without a certain degree of fear. But the craziness of the structure is in appearance only. It is the same with the church, which the Scriptures call the Tower of David, (Turris Davidcea,) surrounded by a thousand defences. When this leaning tower raises itself, it is like St. Peter's at Rome—an incomparable monument, grand, majestic, shining as if lighted with the fire of the setting sun. At this sight, gentlemen, we console ourselves, and take fresh courage, saying to ourselves, When afflictions come, I will think of St. Peter's at Rome, even when it appears like the leaning tower of Pisa. (Applause.)

This, gentlemen, is what I have to say to you about that conflict to which we are called to devote our strength, to consecrate our life, and even our death. Yes, gentlemen, when, upon my arrival here, I saw the illustrious writer who is now your host struggling with sickness and suffering, at the time when he was required to write some of those pages which awaken such noble sentiments in our souls, the reflection forced itself upon me: It is thus that we should combat, and never yield. (The orator was here about to leave the platform, but the opposition and entreaties of the audience prevented him.)

I crave your indulgence, gentlemen, he resumed; it is now two years since I have opened my mouth in my diocese. But let it be as you wish; only I throw the responsibility upon you of making my peace for me with the people of Orleans. (Orleanius.) (Great merriment.) I will add a few words respecting the conditions of this conflict.

The first is courage. Saint James the Evangelist, in addressing himself to young men, calls upon them to be strong, to be courageous; he says to them, "I speak to you because you are strong: quia fortis estis. I can say no more to you than this: Be courageous, never yield. Remember that you are, every day and under all circumstances, called upon to resist."

But there is something greater and more enduring than courage: it is devotedness. Yes, gentlemen, you must be devoted, in order that you may be the true friends of the poor, of the working people, of those who suffer and who weep, the support of all those works which is the life, the soul of the church, the blood—if I may so speak—which circulates in its veins.

The third quality which is demanded in this conflict is patriotism. O patriotism! I need not enlarge upon it in my speech. I will simply content myself with saying to you, You have a country; know how to defend it. (Immense applause.) You have the arts: in this respect there is no nation that surpasses you, and but one at most that equals you. You have industry, commerce, names among the most honored in Europe. You have I know not how much of generous, instinctive impulses against oppression, against debasing vices, against everything mean and degrading. Cherish, then, the strongest attachment to your country, and see that you preserve it.

I was told a few days ago that a journal of some character had said that Belgium is the sink of Europe. I said to myself, this is not abuse. There is, in fact, no nation of which so much can be said in the sense in which I wish now to speak. I myself, gentlemen, saw proof of this in walking through your city yesterday. In the street which runs along the magnificent city hotel of Brussels my eyes fell upon this sign: Liberal Association and Constitutional Union of Brussels. And what was there below? A wine-shop; and lower down another wine-shop, having for a sign the words "to Hell." (General merriment.) This, alas! is not all that I have seen in Brussels, gentlemen; but I pass on.

The fourth condition of the conflict is labor. Oh! how I wish that the Catholics were the most diligent, the most laborious of men. Yes; whatever you may be, work will benefit your family, your posterity. Depend upon it, gentlemen, the destinies of the world are in the hands of those who know how to work.

To this condition, to industry, to science, I would add intelligence and prudence. And here again, gentlemen, it is our Lord himself who gives us counsel: we are to have, he says, the artlessness of the dove, with the wisdom of the serpent. Yes, gentlemen, however much these words may have been abused, I insist upon them, and I call upon you to give heed to them. We must exercise that prudence of which the serpent is the symbol in the language of the east. We must use our judgment; we must intelligently apply our principles; we must maintain that good understanding which should ever exist among brethren. To give up that to the enemy to trample under his feet, would be treachery. (Applause.) We must seek to understand the times in which we live and the wants of the times, the adversaries whom we have to combat and the means we ought to employ in meeting them, as God and revelation permit and demand of us. (Applause.)

There is another point on which you will allow me to insist. When I had the honor of being received in the French Academy, I was required to make a speech. In searching for a subject suited to the times in which we live, I remembered the words of an historian: "We have long since lost the true meaning of words." This, gentlemen, is a profound remark. The higher philosophy, which is in accord with Christianity, proclaims its truth; words, which are the signs of ideas, are the grand riches of humanity; they are the common treasure. To adopt the language of the adversaries of that philosophy, and Christianity, is, to speak plainly, the greatest fault which honest men can commit.

What are the words with which the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries achieved their success? what are those which are in the present day so much abused? There are three of them: Reformers, Philosophers, and (since they take great pleasure in being called so) Liberals.

Reformers! We must confess that the thing indicated by this word is more strange even than the word itself. You have the Council of Trent which has labored continually to reform the church. In this world men are the depositaries of divine truth, and I need hardly tell you that, where man is concerned, imperfection must always be looked for. Well, gentlemen, the church is a society which reforms itself; for this purpose she has held a thousand councils, and the Council of Trent decided that there should not be a session in which reform should not be considered. We have reform, then, on our side. What have they on the other? They have Luther, with the religion which he brought from the cloister; Calvin, with a society of the same nature; OEcolampadius, etc. And these were the men who devoted themselves to the work of reforming the church—the church, gentlemen, which they called Babylon! As for them, it was the Holy Jerusalem, which they peopled with their wives and their children!

But what is still more extraordinary is the abuse which has been made of the word liberal. When Count Felix de Merode—a man whose name I feel doubly honored in pronouncing here—a man who fought to reconquer religious, civil, and political liberty for his country—when he heard his adversaries called liberals, he indignantly exclaimed: "They are not liberals, they are libertines. It is as impossible to call them liberals as it would be to call a mother a barbarous mother."

Gentlemen, is all this what they call liberalism? I have lately heard Juarez spoken of as a liberal. It is not that I would judge the men who claim this title, but I believe they do not understand the thing. For my part I would not apply the term to them. And Garibaldi, gentlemen, is another liberal. Listen to his language: "My friends, my children"—this man has something paternal about him (laughter)—"we must crush the sacerdotal vampire; as for the priests, we must break their heads on the pavement of the streets." What a liberal! Ah! gentlemen, if Bossuet, if Fenelon, if Bourdaloue, could come back to this world, they would say to us, "But what have you clone with this beautiful French language?" A liberal! But in our estimation he is the liberal man who does not deny to others the same justice and truth which he claims to have himself. The Portuguese Freemasons who drove out the Sisters of Charity, those of you who insult them, are still liberals! I say again, the thing is intolerable; and if I were a Belgian I would never betray my language, my honor, and my conscience by giving such a name to such men. (Applause.)

And so far as we are concerned, you know, gentlemen, how they pay us back. They call us the clerical party—that is to say, fools of the sacristy; or better still, the priest party. Shall I remind you of Voltaire, who invented the name wretch, by which he designated the church? And what name did he bear? He was called philosopher. Gentlemen, they would never get me to give the title of philosopher to a d'Holbach, to a Lamettrie, to any of those wicked men, conspiring with their master to crush the "wretch." I understand that they contemplate erecting a statue to the man who has given this name to Christianity. For my part, I say they will have raised a statue to infamy personified. (Prolonged cheers.) I am prepared to meet any opponent on this ground; and I will promise to give him, whenever he wishes to have them, such proofs of what I say as will resound throughout the whole of Europe. This violence done to common sense, to honesty, to French honor, is revolting to me. I repeat it, they are raising a statue to infamy personified. The Bishop of Orleans can think nothing better, can say nothing better of it. (Prolonged applause.)

You see, then, that we must have courage, devotedness, patriotism, prudence, and intelligence; I will add to these moderation and gentleness. Did not Christ say to his Apostles, "I send you forth as sheep among wolves"? Perhaps you will say to me, "But you give us several applications of this evangelical saying which it will not bear." Gentlemen, it is nowhere forbidden to the shepherd to give the alarm of the wolf, and to the sheep to believe it. Yes, we must be gentle, and Saint Chrysostom, commenting on these words, says: "We require protectors who attack little, but who defend well—pro pugnatorem, non impugnatorem" It is in this way, gentlemen—it is by gentleness—that we are to conquer. But if, instead of being sheep, we become wolves by abuse, if we wish to conquer and not to be convinced, we run the risk of being vanquished. Si lupi sumus vincimur.

And now, to conclude, I would express to you the deepest impressions of my soul. That which I admire most in this beautiful creation of the Deity, which makes man like the angels, is the flame of love which God has kindled in his soul. Gentlemen, what do the radiant looks of this assembly, this clapping of hands, these outbursts of enthusiasm, express? They express love. You love, gentlemen, and you love nobly. You love the church, your mother. Ah! you do well to love her with the purest and most generous love! The church is the fellowship of souls; herein is her beauty and her immortal glory. This is why, although she is in the world, she is not of the world. She lives by faith, hope, and love. She believes, she hopes, she loves. This earth is only the place of her pilgrimage; Heaven is her country, the King of Heaven is her father, Jesus Christ is her immortal spouse, the Holy Spirit her inspirer and her guide. She has her pontiffs, whom you venerate, her doctors, her priests. There, at least, we find here below a divine and unchangeable constitution. Built on a rock that can never be moved, we have a supreme authority, a teachable people, faithful ministers, and, in short, (not to speak of others,) rights scrupulously respected, and duties faithfully performed. (Applause.)

That which seems astonishing at first sight is, that the church, notwithstanding her divine origin and her immortal destinies, should so often come to us with thorns on her brow. But this is because she comes from Calvary, and her favorite strains were those which inspired Saint Paul when he said, "God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of Jesus Christ." Among the songs of gladness sung by the church, as she travels through this world, there are none more dear to her than those which celebrate the passion, the temptations, the sorrows of Calvary. These are her household words. We feel that she received them from the dying lips of a divine being; but, sharing the grief of the God-man, she should go forth with him from the tomb to cover the earth with her children, in innumerable multitudes.

The church must expect to meet here below with indifference, with adversaries, with persecutors. This has been announced, or rather promised, to her; she is not to enjoy where she has not suffered; at some time or other we all suffer, we die for her. Yes! She always has martyrs, and it is only recently that several have been laid upon the altar. Ah! it is during these festivals, gentlemen, that you should see the church in order to feel how her heart beats. On the recent occasion the Vicar of Jesus Christ was surrounded by five hundred bishops, who hastened to him from all parts of the world. You should have seen the gladness, the glory, the universal enthusiasm which prevailed. We found there a strength to encounter anything—to go freely, cheerfully, to Abyssinia, to India, to America, everywhere. How vigorous, how deep, how indissoluble is the union of souls! Behold the church here, as we have seen her and experienced her power! America sent thirty-five bishops; for a century she had not more than one. At the last council of Baltimore there were forty-three, and the American bishops, on leaving Rome, obtained from the Holy Father the erection of twenty-three dioceses. You see how fruitful is this immortal cause of yours.

And in the midst of all these is the grand thought of the Sovereign Pontiff proclaiming the utility and the necessity of a general council. There is wisdom, there is energy! No, gentlemen, I have never seen a finer sight than this old man going direct to his object with a firmness which nothing can overcome. All around him may be in a state of trouble; the earth may fail under his feet; still he maintains his ground, and the church shall have her council. Yes, gentlemen, the kingdoms of this earth may be removed, inclinata sunt regna; but the bishops will one day meet in council, and with the chief will hold forth the light to those who require their help. The church shall have its council, in order that disputes may cease, that peace may dwell in our hearts; that the people may be drawn into the arms of their common father, so that there shall be but one flock and but one shepherd.