Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/111

 In the  first  place,  I  should  make  you  observe,  that  the  world,  familiarized with  guilt,  and  accustomed  to  see  the  most  heinous  vices now become  the  vices  of  the  multitude,  is  no  longer  shocked  at them;  denominates  light,  defamations  which  turn  upon  the  most criminal and  shameful  weaknesses:  suspicions  of  infidelity,  in  the sacred bond  of  marriage,  are  no  longer  a  marked  discredit  or  an  essential stain, — they  are  sources  of  derision  and  pleasantry:  to  accuse a courtier  of  insincerity  and  double-dealing,  is  no  attack  upon  his honour; it  is  only  casting  a  ridicule  on  the  protestations  of  sincerity with which  he  amuses  us:  to  spread  the  suspicion  of  hypocrisy,  in the  sincerest  piety,  is  not  an  insult  to  God  through  his  saints;  it  is a  language  of  derision,  which  custom  has  rendered  common:  in  a word,  excepting  those  crimes  punishable  by  the  public  authority, and which  are  attended  with  the  loss  of  credit  and  property,  all  others seem trivial,  and  become  the  ordinary  subject  of  conversation  and of the  public  censure.

But let  us  not  pursue  this  reflection  farther. I wish  to  allow that your  brother's  faults  are  light:  the  more  they  are  light,  the more are  you  unjust  in  heightening  them:  the  more  he  merits  indulgence on  your  part,  the  more  are  we  to  presume  in  you  a  malignity of  observation,  from  which  nothing  can  escape;  a  natural hardness of  heart,  which  can  excuse  nothing. Were the  faults  of your  brother  important  you  would  spare  him,  you  say;  you  would find him  entitled  to  your  indulgence;  politeness  and  religion  would make your  silence  a  duty. What! because his  weaknesses  are  only trivial, you  find  him  less  worthy  of  your  regard? The very  circumstance which  ought  to  make  him  respectable,  authorizes  you  in making  him  the  butt  of  your  sarcasms? Are you  not,  says  the apostle, become  a  judge  of  iniquitous  thoughts? And your  eye,  is it  then  wicked,  only  because  your  brother  is  good? Besides, the faults which  you  censure  are  light;  but  would  they  appear  so  to  you, were you  to  be  reproached  with  them? When certain  discourses, held in  your  absence,  have  reached  your  ears,  and  which,  in  fact, attacked essentially  neither  your  honour  nor  probity,  but  only  acquainted the  public  with  some  of  your  weaknesses,  what  have  been your sensations? My God! Then it  was  that  you  magnified  every thing; that  every  circumstance  appeared  important  to  you;  that, not satisfied  with  exaggerating  the  malice  of  the  words,  you  raked up the  secret  of  the  intention,  and  hoped  to  find  motives  still  more odious than  the  discourses. In vain  you  are  told,  that  these  are not reproaches  which  essentially  interest  you,  and,  at  the  worst, cannot disgrace  you:  you  think  yourselves  insulted;  you  mention them with  bitter  complaints;  you  blaze  out,  and  are  no  longer  masters of  your  resentment;  and  whilst  all  the  world  blames  the  excess of your  sensibility,  you  alone  obstinately  persist  in  the  belief  of  its being a  serious  affair,  and  that  your  honour  is  interested  in  it. Make use,  then,  of  this  rule  in  the  faults  which  you  publish  of  your brother: apply  the  offence  to  yourselves:  every  thing  is  light  which is against  him;  but  with  regard  to  what  touches  you,  the  smallest circumstance appears  important  to  your  pride,  and  worthy  of  all  your resentment.