C — Catéchisme du Curé
Original French
ARISTON.
Eh bien, mon cher Téotime, vous allez donc être Curé de campagne?
TEOTIME.
Oui; on me donne une petite paroisse, & je l’aime mieux qu’une grande. Je n’ai qu’une portion limitée d’intelligence & d'activité; je ne pourais certainement pas diriger soixante & dix mille ames, attendu que je n’en ai qu’une; & j'ai toujours admiré la confiance de ceux qui se sont chargés de ces districts immenses. Je ne me sens pas capable d’une telle administration; un grand troupeau m’effraie, mais je pourai faire quelque bien à un petit. J’ai étudié assez de jurisprudence pour empêcher, autant que je le pourai, mes pauvres paroissiens de se ruiner en procès. Je sçais assez de médecine pour leur indiquer des remèdes simples quand ils seront malades. J'ai assez de connaissance de l’agriculture pour leur donner quelquefois des conseils utiles. Le Seigneur du lieu & sa femme sont d'honnêtes gens qui ne sont point dévots, & qui m’aideront à faire du bien. Je me flate que je vivrai assez heureux, & qu’on ne sera pas malheureux avec moi.
ARISTON.
N’êtes-vous pas fâché de n’avoir point de femme? ce serait une grande consolation; il serait doux après avoir prôné, chanté, confessé, communié, batisé, enterré, de trouver dans son logis une femme douce, agréable & honnête, qui aurait soin de vôtre linge & de vôtre personne, qui vous égayerait dans la santé, qui vous soignerait dans la maladie, qui vous ferait de jolis enfans dont la bonne éducation serait utile à l’état. Je vous plains vous qui servez les hommes, d’être privé d’une consolation si nécessaire aux hommes.
TEOTIME.
L’église Grecque a grand soin d’encourager les Curés au mariage; l’église Anglicane & les protestants ont la même sagesse; l’église Latine a une sagesse contraire; il faut m’y soumettre. Peut-être aujourd’hui que l’esprit philosophique a fait tant de progrès, un concile ferait des loix plus favorables à l’humanité que le concile de Trente; mais en attendant, je dois me conformer aux loix présentes; il en coute beaucoup, je le sçais, mais tant de gens qui valaient mieux que moi s’y sont soumis, que je ne dois pas murmurer.
ARISTON.
Vous êtes sçavant, & vous avez une éloquence sage; comment comptez-vous prêcher devant des gens de campagne?
TEOTIME.
Comme je prêcherais devant les Rois; je parlerai toujours de morale, & jamais de controverse; Dieu me préserve d’aprofondir la grace concomitante, la grace efficace, à laquelle on résiste, la suffisante qui ne suffit pas; d’éxaminer si les anges qui mangèrent avec Abraham & avec Loth avaient un corps, ou s’ils firent semblant de manger; il y a mille choses que mon auditoire n’entendrait pas, ni moi non plus. Je tâcherai de faire des gens de bien, & de l’être; mais je ne ferai point de théologiens, & je le serai le moins que je pourai.
ARISTON.
O le bon curé! Je veux acheter une maison de campagne dans vôtre paroisse. Dites moi, je vous prie, comment vous en userez dans la confession?
TEOTIME.
La confession est une chose excellente, un frein aux crimes, inventé dans l’antiquité la plus reculée; on se confessait dans la célébration de tous les anciens mistères; nous avons imité & sanctifié cette sage pratique; elle est très bonne pour engager les cœurs ulcérés de haine à pardonner, & pour faire rendre par les petits voleurs ce qu’ils peuvent avoir dérobé à leur prochain. Elle a quelques inconvénients. Il y a beaucoup de confesseurs indiscrets, surtout parmi les moines, qui apprennent quelquefois plus de sotises aux filles que tous les garçons d’un village ne pouraient leur en faire. Point de détails dans la confession; ce n’est point un interrogatoire juridique, c’est l’aveu de ses fautes qu’un pécheur fait à l’être suprême entre les mains d’un autre pécheur qui va s’accuser à son tour. Cet aveu salutaire n’est point fait pour contenter la curiosité d’un homme.
ARISTON.
Et des excommunications, en userez - vous?
TEOTIME.
Non; il y a des rituels où l’on excommunie les sauterelles, les sorciers & les comédiens. Je n'interdirai point l’entrée de l’église aux sauterelles, attendu qu’elles n’y vont jamais. Je n’excommunierai point les sorciers, parce qu’il n’y a point de sorciers: & à l’égard des comédiens, comme ils sont pensionnés par le Roi, & autorisés par le magistrat, je me garderai bien de les diffamer. Je vous avouerai même comme à mon ami, que j'ai du gout pour la comédie, quand elle ne choque point les mœurs. J'aime passionément le Misantrope, Athalie & d’autres piéces, qui me paraissent des écoles de vertu & de bienséance. Le seigneur de mon village fait jouer dans son château quelques-unes de ces piéces par de jeunes personnes qui ont du talent: ces représentations inspirent la vertu par l’attrait du plaisir; elles forment le goût, elles apprennent à bien parler & à bien prononcer. Je ne vois rien là que de très innocent, & même de très utile; je compte bien assister à ces spectacles pour mon instruction, mais dans une loge grillée pour ne point scandaliser les faibles.
ARISTON.
Plus vous me découvrez vos sentiments, & plus j'ai envie de devenir vôtre paroissien. Il y a un point bien important qui m’embarrasse. Comment ferez-vous pour empêcher les païsans de s’enyvrer les jours de fêtes? c’est là leur grande manière de les célébrer. Vous voyez les uns accablés d’un poison liquide, la tête panchée vers les genoux, les mains pendantes, ne voyant point, n’entendant rien, réduits à un état fort au dessous de celui des brutes, reconduits chez eux en chancelant par leurs femmes éplorées, incapables de travail le lendemain, souvent malades & abrutis pour le reste de leur vie. Vous en voyez d’autres devenus furieux par le vin, exciter des querelles sanglantes, fraper & être frapés, & quelquefois finir par le meurtre ces scènes affreuses, qui sont la honte de l’espèce humaine; il le faut avouer, l’état perd plus de sujets par les fêtes que par les batailles; comment pourez-vous diminuer dans vôtre paroisse un abus si éxécrable?
TEOTIME.
Mon parti est pris; je leur permettrai, je les presserai même de cultiver leurs champs les jours de fêtes après le service divin que je ferai de très bonne heure. C’est l’oisiveté de la férie qui les conduit au cabaret. Les jours ouvrables ne sont point les jours de la débauche & du meurtre. Le travail modéré contribue à la santé du corps & à celle de l’ame: de plus, ce travail est nécessaire à l’état. Supposons cinq millions d’hommes qui font par jour pour dix sous d’ouvrage l’un portant l’autre, & ce compte est bien modéré; vous rendez ces cinq millions d'hommes inutiles trente jours de l’année. C’est donc trente fois cinq millions de piéces de dix sous que l’état perd en main d’œuvre. Or certainement, Dieu n’a jamais ordonné, ni cette perte, ni l’yvrognerie.
ARISTON.
Ainsi vous concilierez la prière & le travail. Dieu ordonne l’un & l’autre. Vous servirez Dieu & le prochain; mais dans les disputes ecclésiastiques; quel parti prendrez-vous?
TEOTIME.
Aucun. On ne dispute jamais sur la vertu, parce qu’elle vient de Dieu: on se querelle sur des opinions qui viennent des hommes.
ARISTON.
Oh le bon curé! le bon curé!
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation of the 73 articles in the 1764 first edition, made directly from the French and reviewed against the scan-collated French text. The author’s notes, quotations and verse are retained. Historical ethnic labels, including offensive terms, are retained from the 1764 text.
Ariston.
Well, my dear Theotimus, so you are going to be a country priest?
Theotimus.
Yes; I am being given a little parish, and I prefer it to a large one. I have only a limited share of intelligence and energy. I certainly could not direct seventy thousand souls, considering that I have only one myself; and I have always admired the confidence of those who undertake these immense districts. I do not feel capable of such an administration. A great flock frightens me, but I shall be able to do some good for a little one. I have studied enough law to prevent my poor parishioners, as far as I can, from ruining themselves in lawsuits. I know enough medicine to recommend simple remedies when they are ill. I know enough agriculture to give them useful advice now and then. The local lord and his wife are decent people, not devotees, who will help me do good. I flatter myself that I shall live fairly happily, and that people will not be unhappy with me.
Ariston.
Are you not sorry to have no wife? She would be a great consolation. How pleasant, after preaching, singing, hearing confessions, giving communion, baptizing, burying, to find at home a gentle, agreeable, honest woman who would care for your linen and your person, cheer you in health, nurse you in illness, give you pretty children whose good upbringing would benefit the state. I pity you, who serve men, for being deprived of a consolation so necessary to men.
Theotimus.
The Greek Church takes great care to encourage parish priests to marry; the Anglican Church and the Protestants have the same wisdom. The Latin Church has a contrary wisdom; I must submit to it. Perhaps today, when the philosophical spirit has made such progress, a council would make laws more favorable to humanity than the Council of Trent. Meanwhile I must conform to the present laws. It costs a great deal, I know; but so many people worth more than I have submitted to them that I ought not to complain.
Ariston.
You are learned, and your eloquence is wise; how do you intend to preach to country people?
Theotimus.
As I would preach to kings. I shall always speak of morality and never of controversy. God preserve me from delving into concomitant grace, efficacious grace which is resisted, sufficient grace which does not suffice; from examining whether the angels who ate with Abraham and Lot had bodies or merely pretended to eat. There are a thousand things my audience would not understand, and neither would I. I shall try to make good people and be one myself; but I shall not make theologians, and shall be one as little as I can.
Ariston.
What a good priest! I want to buy a country house in your parish. Please tell me how you will proceed in confession.
Theotimus.
Confession is an excellent thing, a restraint on crime invented in the remotest antiquity. People confessed in the celebration of all the ancient mysteries. We have imitated and sanctified this wise practice. It is very good for inducing hearts ulcerated by hatred to forgive, and for making petty thieves return what they may have stolen from their neighbors. It has some drawbacks. There are many indiscreet confessors, especially among the monks, who sometimes teach girls more follies than all the boys in a village could lead them into. No details in confession: it is not a judicial interrogation, but the admission of faults that a sinner makes to the Supreme Being through another sinner, who will in turn accuse himself. This salutary admission is not made to satisfy a man’s curiosity.
Ariston.
And excommunications—will you use them?
Theotimus.
No. Some rituals excommunicate locusts, sorcerers, and actors. I shall not forbid locusts to enter the church, considering that they never go there. I shall not excommunicate sorcerers, because there are no sorcerers; and as for actors, since they are pensioned by the king and authorized by the magistrate, I shall take care not to defame them. I shall even confess to you as my friend that I have a taste for the theater when it does not offend morals. I passionately love The Misanthrope, Athalie, and other plays that seem to me schools of virtue and propriety. The lord of my village has some of these plays performed in his château by talented young people. These performances inspire virtue through the attraction of pleasure; they form taste and teach good speech and pronunciation. I see nothing in this but what is very innocent and even very useful. I fully intend to attend these performances for my instruction, but in a screened box, so as not to scandalize the weak.
Ariston.
The more you reveal your feelings, the more I want to become your parishioner. One very important point troubles me. How will you prevent the peasants from getting drunk on feast days? That is their grand way of celebrating them. You see some overwhelmed by a liquid poison, their heads bent toward their knees, their hands dangling, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, reduced to a state far below that of beasts, led staggering home by their weeping wives, incapable of work the next day, often sick and stupefied for the rest of their lives. You see others made furious by wine, stirring up bloody quarrels, striking and being struck, and sometimes ending these frightful scenes, the shame of the human species, in murder. It must be admitted that the state loses more subjects through feast days than through battles. How will you lessen so execrable an abuse in your parish?
Theotimus.
I have made my decision. I shall allow them, even urge them, to cultivate their fields on feast days after divine service, which I shall hold very early. It is holiday idleness that leads them to the tavern. Working days are not days of debauchery and murder. Moderate labor contributes to the health of body and soul; moreover, this labor is necessary to the state. Suppose five million men each do ten sous’ worth of work a day on average—and that is a very modest reckoning. You make those five million men useless for thirty days of the year. That is therefore thirty times five million ten-sou pieces that the state loses in labor. Certainly God has never commanded either this loss or drunkenness.
Ariston.
Thus you will reconcile prayer and labor. God commands both. You will serve God and your neighbor. But in ecclesiastical disputes, which side will you take?
Theotimus.
None. People never dispute virtue, because it comes from God: they quarrel over opinions, which come from men.
Ariston.
What a good priest! What a good priest!
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Plain English translation of the same 73 articles, made directly from the French and reviewed against the scan-collated French text. The author’s notes, quotations and verse are retained. Historical ethnic labels, including offensive terms, are retained from the 1764 text.
Ariston.
So, my dear Teotime, you’re off to be a country priest?
Teotime.
Yes, I’m getting a little parish. That suits me better than a big one. There’s a limit to my brains and energy. I’ve only got one soul myself. I certainly couldn’t look after seventy thousand. I’ve always admired how confident some men are. They take on those huge districts. I don’t feel up to running anything like that. A big flock scares me. But I could do some good for a little flock. I’ve learned enough law to help my poor parishioners stay out of ruinous lawsuits as best I can. I know enough medicine to recommend simple treatments when they’re ill. I also know a bit about farming. Now and then I’ll have useful advice to give. The local lord and his wife are good people. They aren’t pious, and they’ll help me do some good. I hope I’ll be fairly happy there. I hope people won’t be unhappy having me there, either.
Ariston.
Don’t you mind not having a wife? Think what a comfort she’d be. You spend your day preaching, singing, hearing confessions, giving communion, baptizing people, and burying them. Then you could come home to a kind, pleasant, decent wife. She’d take care of your clothes and of you. When you were well, she’d keep your spirits up. When you were ill, she’d look after you. She’d have lovely children with you. Bring them up well and the state would benefit. You spend your life serving people. I feel sorry that you’re denied a comfort people need so much.
Teotime.
The Greek Church makes a point of encouraging its parish priests to marry. Anglicans and Protestants are just as wise about it. The Latin Church’s wisdom goes the other way. I have to go along with it. Philosophical thinking has spread so much now. Maybe a council today would make kinder laws for humanity than the Council of Trent did. Until then, I’ve got to follow the laws we have. That costs us dearly, I know. But many people better than me have accepted it. I shouldn’t grumble.
Ariston.
You know a lot, and you’ve got a sensible way with words. How will you preach to country folk?
Teotime.
Just as I would to kings. I’ll talk about how to live, never about disputed doctrines. God save me from digging into concomitant grace, or effective grace that people resist, or sufficient grace that isn’t sufficient. I won’t investigate those angels who ate with Abraham and Lot. Did they have bodies, or were they only pretending to eat? There are a thousand things like that. My listeners wouldn’t understand them, and neither would I. I’ll try to help people become good and be good myself. I won’t turn them into theologians. And I’ll do as little theology as I possibly can.
Ariston.
Now that’s a good priest! I’d like to buy a house in the country, in your parish. Tell me, how will you deal with confession?
Teotime.
Confession is an excellent way to keep crime in check. People came up with it in the very distant past. All the ancient mystery rites included confessing. We copied that sensible practice and made it sacred. It helps people whose hearts are sore with hatred forgive. It also gets petty thieves to give back what they’ve stolen from others. There are drawbacks, though. Plenty of confessors don’t know where to stop, especially monks. Sometimes they teach girls more dirty things than all the village boys could do to them. Confession doesn’t need details. It’s not questioning in a court of law. It’s a sinner admitting his faults to the Supreme Being. He does it through another sinner, who’ll admit his own faults in turn. That helpful admission isn’t there to feed some man’s curiosity.
Ariston.
What about excommunicating people? Will you do that?
Teotime.
No. Some books of church rites excommunicate locusts, sorcerers, and actors. I’m not going to stop locusts coming into church. They never go there anyway. I won’t excommunicate sorcerers either: sorcerers don’t exist. As for actors, the king gives them pensions. The local authorities allow their work. I’ll certainly take care not to smear their names. Between friends, I’ll even admit I like theater. That’s when it doesn’t go against good morals, of course. I absolutely love The Misanthrope, Athalie, and some other plays. To me, they teach people goodness and decent behavior. Our village lord has talented young people perform some of them in his castle. People enjoy the shows, and that enjoyment draws them toward goodness. The plays develop their taste. They teach them to speak well and pronounce words clearly. I can’t see anything wrong with that at all. In fact, I think it’s very useful. I certainly mean to go and learn from the shows. But I’ll sit behind a screen in a box. I don’t want to upset people whose faith is weak.
Ariston.
Hearing more of your views makes me want to join your parish even more. But there’s something very important I’m worried about. How will you stop peasants getting drunk on holy days? That’s their favorite way to celebrate. Look at some of them, knocked out by liquid poison. Their heads droop toward their knees. Their hands hang limp. They can’t see or hear a thing. They’re in a far worse state than animals. Their wives cry as they lead them stumbling home. They can’t work the next day. Often they stay ill and dull-witted for life. Others go wild with wine. They start bloody fights, giving blows and taking them. These terrible scenes sometimes end with someone being murdered. They’re a disgrace to the human race. Let’s admit it: holy days cost the state more lives than battles do. How can you cut down on this dreadful abuse in your parish?
Teotime.
I’ve decided what to do. On holy days, I’ll hold services very early. Once they’re over, people can work in their fields. I’ll allow it and even push them to do it. It’s having nothing to do on a holy day that sends them to the tavern. People don’t choose working days for drunkenness and murder. A reasonable amount of work keeps body and soul healthy. The country needs that work too. Take five million men. Say their daily work is worth ten sous each, on average. That’s a very low estimate. You stop all five million working for thirty days a year. The country loses that much labor: thirty times five million ten-sou coins’ worth. God certainly never told us to throw that away. He never told us to get drunk either.
Ariston.
So you’ll make room for both prayer and work. God tells us to do both. You’ll be serving him and other people. But where will you stand when the Church has disputes?
Teotime.
I won’t take sides. Nobody fights over goodness, because that comes from God. The fights are over opinions, which come from people.
Ariston.
What a good priest! Such a good priest!
About this section
C — Catéchisme du Curé is part of Pocket Philosophical Dictionary by Voltaire. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is article 28 of 73 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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