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Title: Protestantism and Catholicity - Compared in their effects on the civilization of Europe
Author: Balmes, Jaime Luciano
Language: English
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PROTESTANTISM
AND
CATHOLICITY
COMPARED IN THEIR
EFFECTS ON THE CIVILIZATION OF EUROPE.
WRITTEN IN SPANISH
BY THE REV. J. BALMES.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
Second Edition.
BALTIMORE:
PUBLISHED BY JOHN MURPHY & CO.
No. 178 MARKET STREET.
PITTSBURG: GEORGE QUIGLEY.
_Sold by Booksellers generally._
1851.
ENTERED, according to the Act of Congress, in the year eighteen
hundred and fifty, by JOHN MURPHY & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Maryland.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
Among the many and important evils which have been the necessary
result of the profound revolutions of modern times, there appears a
good extremely valuable to science, and which will probably have a
beneficial influence on the human race,--I mean the love of studies
having for their object man and society. The shocks have been so rude,
that the earth has, as it were, opened under our feet; and the human
mind, which, full of pride and haughtiness, but lately advanced on a
triumphal car amid acclamations and cries of victory, has been alarmed
and stopped in its career. Absorbed by an important thought, overcome
by a profound reflection, it has asked itself, "What am I? whence do I
come? what is my destination?" Religious questions have regained their
high importance; and when they might have been supposed to have been
scattered by the breath of indifference, or almost annihilated by the
astonishing development of material interests, by the progress of the
natural and exact sciences, by the continually increasing ardour of
political debates,--we have seen that, so far from having been stifled
by the immense weight which seemed to have overwhelmed them, they have
reappeared on a sudden in all their magnitude, in their gigantic form,
predominant over society, and reaching from the heavens to the abyss.
This disposition of men's minds naturally drew their attention to the
religious revolution of the sixteenth century; it was natural that they
should ask what this revolution had done to promote the interests of
humanity. Unhappily, great mistakes have been made in this inquiry.
Either because they have looked at the facts through the distorted
medium of sectarian prejudice, or because they have only considered
them superficially, men have arrived at the conclusion, that the
reformers of the sixteenth century conferred a signal benefit on the
nations of Europe, by contributing to the development of science, of
the arts, of human liberty, and of every thing which is comprised in
the word _civilization_.
What do history and philosophy say on this subject? How has man,
either individually or collectively, considered in a religious,
social, political, or literary point of view, been benefited by the
reform of the sixteenth century? Did Europe, under the exclusive
influence of Catholicity, pursue a prosperous career? Did Catholicity
impose a single fetter on the movements of civilization? This is the
examination which I propose to make in this work. Every age has its
peculiar wants; and it is much to be wished that all Catholic writers
were convinced, that the complete examination of these questions is
one of the most urgent necessities of the times in which we live.
Bellarmine and Bossuet have done what was required for their times; we
ought to do the same for ours. I am fully aware of the immense extent
of the questions I have adverted to, and I do not flatter myself that I
shall be able to elucidate them as they deserve; but, however this may
be, I promise to enter on my task with the courage which is inspired
by a love of truth; and when my strength shall be exhausted, I shall
sit down with tranquillity of mind, in expectation that another, more
vigorous than myself, will carry into effect so important an enterprise.
PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION.
The work of Balmes on the comparative influence of Protestantism
and Catholicity on European civilization, which is now presented to
the American public, was written in Spanish, and won for the author
among his own countrymen a very high reputation. A French edition
was published simultaneously with the Spanish, and the work has
since been translated into the Italian and English languages, and
been widely circulated as one of the most learned productions of the
age, and most admirably suited to the exigencies of our times. When
Protestantism could no longer maintain its position in the field of
theology, compelling its votaries by its endless variations to espouse
open infidelity, or to fall back upon the ancient church, it adopted
a new mode of defence, in pointing to its pretended achievements as
the liberator of the human mind, the friend of civil and religious
freedom, the patron of science and the arts; in a word, the active
element in all social ameliorations. This is the cherished idea and
boasted argument of those who attempt to uphold Protestantism as a
system. They claim for it the merit of having freed the intellect of
man from a degrading bondage, given a nobler impulse to enterprise
and industry, and sown in every direction the seed of national and
individual prosperity. Looking at facts superficially, or through the
distorted medium of prejudice, they tell us that the reformers of the
16th century contributed much to the development of science and the
arts, of human liberty, and of every thing which is comprised in the
word _civilization_. To combat this delusion, so well calculated to
ensnare the minds of men in this materialistic and utilitarian age, the
author undertook the work, a translation of which is here presented
to the public. "What do history and philosophy say on this subject?
How has man, either individually or collectively, considered in a
religious, social, political, or literary point of view, been benefited
by the reform of the 16th century? Did Europe, under the exclusive
influence of Catholicity, pursue a prosperous career? Did Catholicity
impose a single fetter on the movements of civilization?" Such is the
important investigation which the author proposed to himself, and
it must be admitted that he has accomplished his task with the most
brilliant success? Possessed of a penetrating mind, cultivated by
profound study and adorned with the most varied erudition, and guided
by a fearless love of truth, he traverses the whole Christian era,
comparing the gigantic achievements of Catholicity, in curing the evils
of mankind, elevating human nature, and diffusing light and happiness,
with the results of which Protestantism may boast; and he proves, with
the torch of history and philosophy in his hand, that the latter, far
from having exerted any beneficial influence upon society, has retarded
the great work of civilization which Catholicity commenced, and which
was advancing so prosperously under her auspicious guidance. He does
not say that nothing has been done for civilization by _Protestants_;
but he asserts and proves that _Protestantism_ has been greatly
unfavorable, and even injurious to it.
By thus exposing the short-comings, or rather evils of Protestantism,
in a social and political point of view, as Bossuet and others had
exhibited them under the theological aspect, Balmes has rendered a
most important service to Catholic literature. He has supplied the
age with a work, which is peculiarly adapted to its wants, and which
must command a general attention in the United States. The Catholic,
in perusing its pages, will learn to admire still more the glorious
character of the faith which he professes: the Protestant, if sincere,
will open his eyes to the incompatibility of his principles with the
happiness of mankind: while the scholar in general will find in it a
vast amount of information, on the most vital and interesting topics,
and presented in a style of eloquence seldom equalled.
"The reader is requested to bear in mind that the author was a native
of Spain, and therefore he must not be surprised to find much that
relates more particularly to that country. In fact, the fear that
Protestantism might be introduced there seems to have been the motive
which induced him to undertake the work. He was evidently a man of
strong national as well as religious feeling, and he dreaded its
introduction both politically and religiously, as he considered that it
would be injurious to his country in both points of view. He thought
that it would destroy the national unity, as it certainly did in other
countries.
"A very interesting part of the work is that where he states the
relations of religion and political freedom; shows that Catholicity
is by no means adverse to the latter, but, on the contrary, highly
favorable to it; and proves by extracts from St. Thomas Aquinas
and other great Catholic divines, that they entertained the most
enlightened political views. On the other hand, he shows that
Protestantism was unfavorable to civil liberty, as is evidenced by the
fact, that arbitrary power made great progress in various countries
of Europe soon after its appearance. The reason of this was, that the
moral control of religion being taken away, physical restraint became
the more necessary." The author, on this subject, naturally expresses
a preference for monarchy, it being a cherished inheritance from his
forefathers; but, it will be noticed that the principles which he lays
down as essential to a right administration of civil affairs, regard
the substance and not the form of government; are as necessary under a
republican as under the monarchical system; and, if duly observed, they
cannot fail to ensure the happiness of the people. This portion of the
volume will be read with peculiar interest in this country, and ought
to command an attentive consideration.
In preparing this edition of the work from the English translation by
Messrs. Hanford and Kershaw, care has been taken to revise the whole of
it, to compare it with the original French, and to correct the various
errors, particularly the mistakes in translation. A biographical notice
of the illustrious writer has also been prefixed to the volume, to give
the reader an insight into his eminent character, and the valuable
services he has rendered to his country and to society at large.
BALTIMORE, November 1, 1850.
NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
James Balmes was born at Vich, a small city in Catalonia, in Spain,
on the 28th of August, 1810. His parents were poor, but noted for
their industry and religion, and they took care to train him from his
childhood to habits of rigid piety. Every morning, after the holy
sacrifice of mass, his mother prostrate before an altar dedicated to
St. Thomas of Aquin, implored this illustrious doctor to obtain for
her son the gifts of sanctity and knowledge. Her prayers were not
disappointed.
From seven to ten years of age, Balmes applied himself with great
ardor to the study of Latin. The two following years were devoted to a
course of rhetoric, and three years more were allotted to philosophy;
a ninth year was occupied with the prolegomena of theology. Such was
the order of studies in the seminary of Vich. While thus laboring to
store his mind with knowledge, Balmes preserved an irreproachable line
of conduct. Called to the ecclesiastical state, he submitted readily
to the strict discipline which this vocation required, and he was seen
nowhere but under the parental roof, at the church, in some religious
community, or in the episcopal library. At the age of fourteen he was
admitted to a benefice, the revenue of which, though small, enabled
him to complete his education. In 1826, he went to the University
of Cervera, which at that time was the centre of public instruction
in that part of Spain. It numbered four colleges, in all of which
an enlightened piety prevailed, affording the young Balmes a most
favorable opportunity of developing his rare qualities. Here, the frame
and habit of his mind were observable to all, in his deep and animated
look, in his grave and modest demeanor, and in his method of study. He
would read a few pages over a table, his head resting upon his hands;
then, wrapt in his mantle, he would spend a long time in reflection.
"The true method of study," he used to say, "is to read little, to
select good authors, and to think much. If we confined ourselves to
a knowledge of what is contained in books, the sciences would never
advance a step. We must learn what others have not known. During my
meditations in the dark, my thoughts ferment, and my brain burns like a
boiling cauldron."
Devoted to the acquisition of knowledge, he cultivated retirement as
a means of facilitating the attainment of his object. His thirst for
learning was so intense, that it held him under absolute sway, and he
found it necessary at a later period to offer a systematic resistance
to its exclusive demands. Pursuing his favorite method of study,
Balmes remained four years at the University of Cervera, reading no
other works than the Sum of St. Thomas, and the commentaries upon it
by Bellarmine, Suarez and Cajetan. If he made any exception from this
rule, it was in favor of Chateaubriand's _Génie du Christanisme_.
"Every thing," said he, "is to be found in St. Thomas; philosophy,
religion, politics: his writings are an inexhaustible mine." Having
thus strengthened his mind by a due application to philosophical and
theological studies, he proceeded to enlarge his sphere of knowledge
by reading a greater variety of authors. In taking up a work, he first
looked at the table of contents, and when it suggested an idea or fact
which seemed to open before him a new path, he read that part of the
volume which developed this idea or fact; the rest was overlooked.
In this way, he accumulated a rich store of varied erudition. At
the age of twenty-two he knew by memory the tabular contents of an
extraordinary number of volumes; he had learned the French language;
he spoke and wrote Latin better than his native tongue, and had been
admitted successively to the degrees of bachelor and licentiate in
theology. The virtues of his youth, far from having been weakened
by these studies, had acquired greater strength and maturity. As he
approached the solemn period of his ordination, he became still more
remarkable for the gravity and modesty of his deportment. He prepared
himself for his elevation to the priesthood by a retreat of one hundred
days. After his promotion to the sacerdotal dignity, which took place
in his native city, he returned to the University of Cervera, where he
continued his studies, and performed the duties of assistant professor.
Here also he began to manifest his political views; but, always with
that discretion and moderation for which the Spanish clergy have been
with few exceptions distinguished during the last twenty years. At that
period Spain was agitated by two conflicting parties, that of Maria
Christina and the other of Don Carlos. Balmes avoided all questions
which were rather calculated to encourage the spirit of faction than
promote the general interest of the country. In 1835 he evinced this
circumspection in a remarkable degree, when the doctorate which had
been conferred upon him, required him to deliver an address in honor
of the reigning monarch. Maria Christina was then the queen regent,
and civil war was about to commence in the mountains of Catalonia; but
Balmes performed his task without allusion to politics, and without
offending the adherents of either party.
After two years of study at Cervera, where he applied himself to
theology and law, our author returned to Vich, where he determined
to spend four years more in retirement, for the purpose of maturing
his character and knowledge. In this solitude, he devoted himself to
history, poetry and politics, but principally to mathematics, of which
he obtained a professorship in 1837. During all these literary labors,
Balmes was actuated by a lively faith, and a sincere, unassuming piety.
Religious meditation, intermingled with scientific reflections, was
the constant occupation of his mind; he did not neglect, however, the
exterior practices of devotion. Besides the celebration of the holy
sacrifice, he frequently visited the blessed sacrament, and paid his
homage to the B. Virgin in some solitary chapel. The _Following of
Christ_, the _Sum_ of the angelic doctor, and the Holy Scriptures,
were always in his hands, and he took pleasure in reading the ascetic
writers of his own country. In this way did he prepare himself, until
the age of thirty, to become one of the most solid and gifted minds
of our time, and to act the important part to which he was called by
Divine Providence.
The first literary effort of Balmes before the public, was a prize
essay which he wrote on clerical celibacy. This was soon followed by
another production of his pen, entitled "Observations on the Property
of the Clergy, in a social, political, and commercial point of view,"
which was elicited by the clamoring of the revolutionary army under
Espartero for the spoliation of the clergy. The learning, philosophy
and eloquence of the writer in this work, excited the wonder and
admiration of the most distinguished statesmen in the country. Some
months after, he published his "Political Considerations on the
Condition of Spain," in which he had the courage to defend the rights
of both parties in the country, and to suggest means of a conciliatory
nature for restoring public order and tranquillity.
Amidst these political efforts, Balmes did not lay aside his peculiar
functions as a minister of God. The edification of the faithful, the
religious instruction of youth, and the defence of the faith against
the assaults of heresy and rationalism, were constant objects of his
attention. During the same year, 1840, he translated and published
the "Maxims of St. Francis of Sales for every day in the year;" he
also composed a species of catechism for the instruction of young
persons, which was very extensively circulated. At the same time he
undertook the preparation of the present work, in order to counteract
the pernicious influence exerted among his countrymen by Guizot's
lectures on European civilization, and to neutralize the facilities
offered under the regime of Espartero for the success of a Protestant
Propagandism in Spain. The occasion and object of this work rendered it
expedient that it should be published simultaneously in Spanish and in
French, and with this view our author visited France, and afterwards,
to extend his observations, passed into England.
On his return to Barcelona, towards the close of 1842, Balmes became a
collaborator in the editing of the _Civilizacion_, a monthly periodical
of great merit, devoted to literary reviews, and to solid instruction
on the current topics of the day. His connection with this work lasted
only eighteen months. He then commenced a review of his own, entitled
the _Sociedad_, a philosophical, political, and religious journal,
which acquired a great reputation during the one year of its existence.
Driven soon after into retirement by the disturbances of the times,
Balmes composed another philosophical work, _El Criterio_, which is a
course of logic adapted to every capacity.
From the national uprising that overthrew the government of Espartero,
there arose a general feeling of patriotic independence, which called
for the cessation of civil strife, and the harmonizing of the two
parties that divided the nation. Many of the adherents of Maria
Christina, who were the nobility and the bourgeoisie, recognized the
excesses of the revolutionary faction which they had called to their
aid, while the Carlists were not all in favor of absolute monarchy, and
numbered an imposing majority among the lower classes. All these men of
wise and moderate views longed to see a remedy applied to the wounds
of their afflicted country; and with one accord they turned their
eyes upon Balmes, as the only individual capable of conducting this
important affair. He had already, in his _Political Considerations_,
indicated the principal idea of his policy for putting an end to the
national evils; it was a matrimonial alliance between the Queen and
the son of Don Carlos. Under these circumstances he commenced in
February, 1844, a new journal, entitled _Pensamiento de la Nacion_,
the object of which was to denounce the revolutionary spirit as the
enemy of all just and peaceful government, and to inspire the Spanish
people with a proper reverence for the religious, social and political
inheritance received from their ancestors, and with a due respect for
the reasonable ameliorations of the age. In this spirit the different
questions of the day were discussed with energy and calmness, and
especially the project of an alliance between the Queen and the son
of Don Carlos, which Balmes considered of the utmost importance.
This measure, such as he proposed it, was, to use the language of
his biographer, "the reconciliation of the past and the future, of
authority and liberty, of monarchy and representative government."
Such was the patriotism, dignity and force, with which our author
conducted his hebdomadal, that it won the esteem of a large portion of
the most distinguished men among the Carlists, while it also acquired
favor among an immense number in the opposite party. To support its
views, a daily journal, the _Conciliador_, was started by a body of
young but fervid and brilliant writers, and nothing it would seem was
wanting to insure a triumph for the friends of Spain. Prudence, energy,
moderation, reason and eloquence, with a majority of the people on
their side, deserved and should have commanded success; but they could
not prevail against diplomatic influence and court intrigue. Balmes
learned with equal surprise and affliction, in the retirement of his
native mountains, that the government had resolved to offer the Queen
in marriage to the infant Don Francisco, and the infanta to the Duke
of Montpensier. This was a severe stroke to the sincere and ardent
patriotism of Balmes. He might have resisted this policy with the power
and eloquence of his pen, but he preferred a silent resignation to the
heat of political strife, and the _Pensamiento de la Nacion_, although
a lucrative publication, was discontinued on the 31st of December, 1846.
During that same year, our author collected into one volume his
various essays on politics, as well for his own vindication as for
the diffusion of sound instruction on the condition of Spain. The
following year he completed his "Elementary course of Philosophy."
But his physical strength was not equal to these arduous labors. To
re-establish in some degree his declining health, he travelled in Spain
and France, and remained several weeks in Paris. The intellectual and
moral corruption which was gnawing at the very vitals of the French
nation, and threatened all Europe with its infection, filled him with
increased anxiety. He predicted the dissolution of society, and a
return to barbarism, unless things would take some unexpected turn
through the special interposition of Providence. This last hope was
the only resource left, in his opinion, for the salvation of society
and civilization, and he exulted when he beheld Pius IX opening a new
career for Italy, and consecrating the aspirations and movements of all
who advocated legitimate reform and rational liberty. The political
ameliorations, however, of the sovereign Pontiff appeared to the
opponents of liberalism in Spain, at variance with the great opposition
which Balmes had always exhibited to the revolutionary spirit. Hence,
it became necessary for him to pay the just tribute of his admiration
to the illustrious individual who sat in the chair of Peter, and to
proclaim the eminent virtues of the prince and the pontiff. This he
did with surpassing eloquence, in a brochure entitled _Pius IX_, the
brilliant style of which is only equalled by its wisdom of thought. In
this work, he sketches with graphic pen, the acts of the papal policy,
showing that the holy see is the best guide of men in the path of
liberty and progress, that Pius IX shows a profound knowledge of the
evils that afflict society, and possesses all the energy and firmness
necessary to apply their proper remedy. Balmes was full of hope for the
future, in contemplating the course of the great head of the church,
and he cherished this hope to the last moment of his life. His essay on
the policy of Pius IX was the last production of his pen. His career
in literature was brief, but brilliant and effective. Eight years only
had elapsed since his appearance as a writer, and he had labored with
eminent success in every department of knowledge. The learned divine,
the profound philosopher, the enlightened publicist, he has stamped
upon his age the impress of his genius, and bequeathed to posterity
a rich legacy in his immortal works. In the moral as well as in the
intellectual point of view, his merit may be summed up in those words
of _Wisdom_: "Being made perfect in a short space, he fulfilled a long
time." chap. iv.
This distinguished ecclesiastic, the boast of the Spanish clergy and
the Catalan people, died at Vich, his native city, on the 9th of July,
1848, in the same spirit of lively faith and fervent piety which had
always marked his life. His funeral took place on the 11th, with all
the pomp that could be furnished by the civil and ecclesiastical
authorities. The municipality decreed that one of the public places
should be named after him.
Balmes was little below the middle height, and of weak and slender
frame. But the appearance of feeble health which he exhibited, was
combatted by the animation of his looks. His forehead and lips bore
the impress of energy, which was to be seen also in his eyes, black,
deep-set, and of unusual brightness. The expression of his countenance
was a mixture of vivacity, openness, melancholy and strength of mind.
A careful observer of all his sacerdotal duties, he found in the
practices of piety, the vigor which he displayed in his intellectual
labors. The distribution of his time was extremely methodical, and his
pleasures consisted only in the society of his friends. To the prospect
of temporal honors and the favor of the great, he was insensible;
neither did he seek after ecclesiastical dignities or literary
distinctions. His aim was the diffusion of truth, not the acquisition
of a great reputation. These qualities, however, with his eminent
talents, varied erudition, and invaluable writings, have won for him a
universal fame.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE NAME AND NATURE OF PROTESTANTISM, _Page_ 25
CHAPTER II.
THE CAUSES OF PROTESTANTISM.
What ought to be attributed to the genius of its founders--Different
causes assigned for it--Errors on this subject--Opinions of Guizot--Of
Bossuet--True cause of Protestantism to be found in the social
condition of European nations, 28
CHAPTER III.
EXTRAORDINARY PHENOMENON IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.
Divinity of the Catholic Church proved by its relations with the human
mind--Remarkable acknowledgment of M. Guizot--Consequences of that
acknowledgment, 38
CHAPTER IV.
PROTESTANTISM AND THE HUMAN MIND.
Protestantism contains a principle of dissolution--It tends naturally
to destroy all faith--Dangerous direction given to the human
mind--Description of the human mind, 42
CHAPTER V.
INSTINCT OF FAITH IN THE SCIENCES.
Instinct of faith--This instinct extends to all the
sciences--Newton, Descartes--Observations on the history of
philosophy--Proselytism--Present condition of the human mind, 46
CHAPTER VI.
DIFFERENT RELIGIOUS WANTS OF NATIONS--MATHEMATICS--MORAL SCIENCES.
Important error committed by Protestantism, with regard to the
religious government of the human mind, 50
CHAPTER VII.
INDIFFERENCE AND FANATICISM.
Two opposite evils, fruits of Protestantism--Origin of fanaticism--The
Church has prepared the history of the human mind--Private
interpretation of the Bible--Passage from O'Callaghan--Description of
the Bible, 53
CHAPTER VIII.
FANATICISM--ITS DEFINITION--FANATICISM IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.
Connexion between fanaticism and religious feeling--Impossibility of
destroying it--Means of diminishing it--The Church has used these
means, and with what result?--Observations on the pretended Catholic
fanatics--Description of the religious excitement of the founders of
orders in the Church, 57
CHAPTER IX.
INCREDULITY AND RELIGIOUS INDIFFERENCE IN EUROPE THE FRUITS
OF PROTESTANTISM.
Lamentable symptoms of these from the beginning of
Protestantism--Remarkable religious crisis in the latter part of the
seventeenth century--Bossuet and Leibnitz--The Jansenists--Their
influence--Dictionary of Bayle--The epoch when that work
appeared--State of opinions among the Protestants, 60
CHAPTER X.
CAUSES OF THE CONTINUED EXISTENCE OF PROTESTANTISM.
Important question with regard to the continuance of
Protestantism--Religious indifference with respect to man collectively
and individually--European societies with relation to Mahometanism and
idolatry--How Catholicity and Protestantism are capable of defending
the truth--Intimate connexion between Christianity and European
civilization, 64
CHAPTER XI.
THE POSITIVE DOCTRINES OF PROTESTANTISM ARE REPUGNANT TO THE INSTINCT
OF CIVILIZATION.
Doctrines of Protestantism divided into positive and negative--Singular
phenomenon: one of the principal dogmas of the founders of
Protestantism repugnant to European civilization--Eminent service which
Catholicity has done to civilization by defending free will--Nature of
error--Nature of truth, 68
CHAPTER XII.
EFFECTS WHICH THE INTRODUCTION OF PROTESTANTISM INTO SPAIN WOULD HAVE
PRODUCED.
Present state of religious ideas in Europe--Victories of
religion--State of science and literature--Condition of modern
society--Conjectures on the future influence of Catholicity--Is
it probable that Protestantism will be introduced into
Spain?--England--Her connexion with Spain--Pitt--Nature of religious
ideas in Spain--Situation of Spain--How she may be regenerated, 70
CHAPTER XIII.
PROTESTANTISM AND CATHOLICITY IN THEIR RELATION TO SOCIAL
PROGRESS--PRELIMINARY COUP D'ŒIL.
Commencement of the parallel--Liberty--Vague meaning of the
word--European civilization chiefly due to Catholicity--East
and West--Conjectures on the destinies of Catholicity amid the
catastrophies that may threaten in Europe--Observations on
philosophical studies--Fatalism of a certain modern historical school,
79
CHAPTER XIV.
DID THERE EXIST, AT THE TIME WHEN CHRISTIANITY APPEARED, ANOTHER
PRINCIPLE OF REGENERATION?
Condition, religious, social, and scientific, of the world at
the appearance of Christianity--Roman law--The influence of
Christian ideas thereon--Evils of the political organization of the
empire--System adopted by Christianity; her first care was to change
ideas--Christianity and Paganism with regard to the teaching of moral
doctrines--Protestant preaching, 84
CHAPTER XV.
DIFFICULTIES WHICH CHRISTIANITY HAD TO OVERCOME IN THE WORK OF SOCIAL
REGENERATION--SLAVERY--COULD IT HAVE BEEN DESTROYED MORE SPEEDILY THAN
IT WAS BY CHRISTIANITY?
The Church was not only a great and productive school, but she was
also a regenerating association--What she had to do--Difficulties
which she had to overcome--Slavery--By whom was it abolished?--Opinion
of M. Guizot--Immense number of the slaves--Caution necessary in the
abolition of slavery--Was immediate abolition possible?--Refutation of
the opinion of M. Guizot, 90
CHAPTER XVI.
IDEAS AND MANNERS OF ANTIQUITY RESPECTING SLAVERY--THE CHURCH BEGINS
BY IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF SLAVES.
The Catholic Church not only employs her doctrines, her maxims, and
her spirit of charity, but also makes use of practical means in
the abolition of slavery--Point of view in which this historical
fact ought to be considered--False ideas of the ancients on the
subject--Homer, Plato, Aristotle--Christianity began forthwith to
combat these errors--Christian doctrines on the connexion between
master and slave--The Church employs herself in improving the
condition of slaves, 94
CHAPTER XVII.
MEANS USED BY THE CHURCH TO ENFRANCHISE SLAVES.
1st. She zealously defends the liberty of the
enfranchised--Manumission in the churches--Effects of this
practice--2d. Redemption of captives--Zeal of the Church in practising
and extending the redemption of captives--Prejudices of the Romans on
this point--The zeal of the Church for this object contributes, in an
extraordinary degree, to the abolition of slavery--The Church protects
the liberty of the free, 102
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT.
3d. System of the Church with regard to slaves belonging to
Jews--Motives which actuated the Church in the enfranchisement of
her own slaves--Her indulgence to them--Her generosity towards
the freed--The slaves of the Church considered as consecrated to
God--Salutary effects of this way of viewing them--4th. Liberty is
granted to those who wish to embrace the monastic state--Effects of
this practice--Conduct of the Church with regard to the ordination of
slaves--Abuses introduced in this respect checked--Discipline of the
Spanish Church on this point, 106
CHAPTER XIX.
DOCTRINES OF ST. AUGUSTIN AND ST. THOMAS OF AQUIN ON THE SUBJECT OF
SLAVERY--RECAPITULATION.
Doctrine of St. Augustin on this subject--Importance of this
doctrine with respect to the abolition of slavery--Refutation of
M. Guizot--Doctrine of St. Thomas on the same subject--Marriage
of slaves--Regulation of canon law on that subject--Résumé of the
means employed by the Church in the abolition of slavery--Refutation
of M. Guizot--The abolition of slavery exclusively due to
Catholicity--Protestantism had no share therein, 111
CHAPTER XX.
CONTRAST BETWEEN THE TWO KINDS OF CIVILIZATION.
Picture of modern civilization--Civilizations not
Christian--Civilization is composed of three elements: the individual,
the family, and the society--The perfectness of these three elements
depends on the perfectness of doctrines, 115
CHAPTER XXI.
OF THE INDIVIDUAL--OF THE FEELING OF INDIVIDUALITY OUT OF
CHRISTIANITY.
Distinction between the individual and the citizen--Of the
individuality of barbarians according to M. Guizot--Whether
in antiquity individuality belonged exclusively to the
barbarians--Twofold principle of the feeling of personal
independence--This feeling infinitely modified--Picture of barbarian
life--True character of individuality among the barbarians--Avowal of
M. Guizot--The feeling of individuality, according to the definition
of M. Guizot, belongs in a certain way to all the ancient nations,
118
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW THE INDIVIDUAL BECAME ABSORBED BY THE ANCIENT SOCIETY.
Respect for _man_ unknown to the ancients--What has been seen
in modern revolutions--Tyranny of public power over private
interests--Explanation of a twofold phenomenon, which presents itself
to us in antiquity and in modern societies not Christian--Opinion of
Aristotle--Remarkable characteristic of modern democracy, 126
CHAPTER XXIII.
OF THE PROGRESS OF INDIVIDUALITY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.
The feeling of true independence was possessed by the faithful of the
primitive Church--Error of M. Guizot on this point: 1st, dignity of
conscience sustained by the Christian society; 2d, feeling of duty;
language of St. Cyprian; 3d, development of the interior life; 4th,
defence of free will by the Catholic Church--Conclusion, 131
CHAPTER XXIV.
OF THE FAMILY--MONOGAMY--MARRIAGE-TIE INDISSOLUBLE.
Woman ennobled by Catholicity alone--Practical means employed by
the Church to raise woman--Christian doctrine on the dignity of
woman--Monogamy--Different conduct of Catholicity and Protestantism on
this point--Firmness of Rome with respect to marriage--Effects of that
firmness--Doctrine of Luther--Indissolubility of marriage--Of divorce
among Protestants--Effects of Catholic doctrine with regard to this
sacrament, 135
CHAPTER XXV.
THE PASSION OF LOVE.
Pretended rigor of Catholicity with respect to unhappy marriages--Two
systems of governing the passions--Protestant system--Catholic
system--Examples--Passion of gambling--Explosion of the passions
in time of public troubles--Of the passion of love--Its
inconstancy--Marriage alone is not a sufficient control--What is
wanted to make it a control--Of the unity and fixity of Catholic
doctrine--Conclusion, 140
CHAPTER XXVI.
OF VIRGINITY IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT.
Of the ennoblement of woman by virginity--Conduct of Protestantism on
this point--Close analysis of the heart of woman--Of virginity with
respect to population--England--Serious thoughts required for the mind
of woman--Salutary influence of monastic customs--General method of
appreciation, 146
CHAPTER XXVII.
OF CHIVALRY, AND THE MANNERS OF THE BARBARIANS IN THEIR INFLUENCE ON
THE CONDITION OF WOMAN.
The life of feudal lords according to M. Guizot--The passions and
faith in chivalry--Chivalry did not ennoble woman, it supposed her
to be ennobled--Of the respect of the Germans for woman--Analysis
of a passage of Tacitus--Reflections on that historian--It is
difficult thoroughly to understand the manners of the Germans--Action
of Catholicity--Important distinction between Christianity and
Catholicity--That the Germans of themselves were incapable of giving
dignity to woman, 150
CHAPTER XXVIII.
OF THE PUBLIC CONSCIENCE IN GENERAL.
What the public conscience is--Influence of the feelings on the
public conscience in general--Education contributes to form the
conscience--State of the public conscience in modern times--What has
been able to form the public conscience in Europe--Successive contests
maintained by Christian morality, 157
CHAPTER XXIX.
OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THE PUBLIC CONSCIENCE ACCORDING TO
MONTESQUIEU--HONOR--VIRTUE.
Institution of censors according to Montesquieu--Two kinds of
prejudice in the author of the _Esprit des Lois_--He assigns
honor as the principle of monarchies, and virtue as that of
republics--Explanation of the feeling of honor--What is required
to strengthen this feeling--The censorial power replaced by the
religious--Examples--Contrasts, 161
CHAPTER XXX.
ON THE DIFFERENT INFLUENCE OF PROTESTANTISM AND CATHOLICITY ON THE
PUBLIC CONSCIENCE.
Catholicity considered as a creed--As an institution--Ideas, in
order to be efficacious, must be realized in an institution--What
Protestantism has done to destroy Christian morality--What it has
done to preserve it--What is the real power of preaching among
Protestants--Of the sacrament of penance with relation to the public
conscience--Of the degree to which the Catholic religion raises
morality--Of unity in the soul--Unity simplifies--Of the great
number of moralists within the bosom of the Catholic Church--Of the
peculiar force of ideas--Distinction between ideas with respect to
their peculiar force--Whether the human race is a faithful depositary
of the truth--How the truth has been preserved among the Jews--The
native power of Schools--Institutions are required, not only to
teach, but also to apply doctrines--Of the press with relation to the
preservation of ideas--Of intuition--Of discourses, 165
CHAPTER XXXI.
OF GENTLENESS OF MANNERS IN GENERAL.
Wherein gentleness of manners consists--Difference between gentle
and effeminate manners--Influence of the Catholic Church in
softening manners--Pagan and Christian societies--Slavery--Paternal
authority--Public games--Reflections on Spanish bull-fights, 172
CHAPTER XXXII.
OF THE AMELIORATION OF MANNERS BY THE ACTION OF THE CHURCH.
Elements adapted to perpetuate harshness of manners in the bosom of
modern society--Conduct of the Church in this respect--Remarkable
canons and facts--St. Ambrose and the Emperor Theodosius--The Truce of
God--Very remarkable regulations of the ecclesiastical authority on
this subject, 175
CHAPTER XXXIII.
OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF PUBLIC BENEFICENCE IN EUROPE.
Difference between Protestantism and Catholicity with respect to
public beneficence--Paradox of Montesquieu--Remarkable canons of the
Church--Injury done by Protestantism to the development of public
beneficence--The value of philanthropy, 184
CHAPTER XXXIV.
OF TOLERANCE IN MATTERS OF RELIGION.
The question of intolerance has been examined with bad faith--What
tolerance is--Tolerance of opinions--Of error--Tolerance in the
individual--With religious men--With unbelievers--Two kinds of
religious men--Two kinds of unbelievers--Tolerance in society--What
is its origin?--Source of the tolerance which prevails in society at
present, 189
CHAPTER XXXV.
OF THE RIGHT OF COERCION IN GENERAL.
Intolerance is a general fact in history--Dialogues with the
partisans of universal tolerance--Does there exist a right
of punishing doctrines?--Researches into the origin of that
right--Disastrous influence of Protestantism and infidelity in this
matter--Of the importance which Catholicity attaches to the sin of
heresy--Inconsistency of certain timid Voltairians--Another reflection
on the right of punishing doctrines--Résumé, 196
CHAPTER XXXVI.
OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN.
Institutions and legislation founded on intolerance--Causes of the
rigor displayed in the early times of the Inquisition--Three epochs in
the history of the Inquisition in Spain: against the Jews and Moors;
against the Protestants; against the unbelievers--Severities of the
Inquisition--Causes of those severities--Conduct of the Popes in that
matter--Mildness of the Roman Inquisition--The intolerance of Luther
with respect to the Jews--The Moors and Moriscoes, 203
CHAPTER XXXVII.
SECOND PERIOD OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN.
New Inquisition attributed to Philip II.--Opinion of M.
Lacordaire--Prejudice against Philip II.--Observations on the work
called _Inquisition Dévoilée_--Rapid _coup d'œil_ at the
second epoch of the Inquisition--Trial of Carranza--Observation on
this trial, and on the personal qualities of the illustrious
accused--Why there is so much partiality against Philip II.--Reflections
on the policy of that monarch--Singular anecdote of a preacher who was
compelled to retract--Reflections on the influence of the spirit of the
age, 210
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THEMSELVES.
Conduct of Protestantism with respect to religious
institutions--Whether these institutions have been of importance
in history--Sophism on the subject of the real origin of religious
institutions--Their correct definition--Of association among the early
faithful--The faithful dispersed in the deserts--Relations between the
Papacy and religious institutions--Of an essential want of the human
heart--Of Christian pensiveness--Of the need of associations for the
practice of perfection--Of vows--A vow is the most perfect act of
liberty--True notion of liberty, 219
CHAPTER XXXIX.
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN HISTORY--THE EARLY SOLITARIES.
Character of religious institutions in a historical point of view--The
Roman empire--The barbarians--The early Christians--Condition of the
Church when Christianity ascended the throne of the Cæsars--Life of
the fathers of the desert--Influence of the solitaries on philosophy
and manners--The heroism of penance saves morality--The most
corrupting climate chosen for the triumph of the most austere virtues,
229
CHAPTER XL.
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE EAST.
Influence of monasteries in the East--Why civilization triumphed
in the West and perished in the East--Influence of the Eastern
monasteries on Arabian civilization, 234
CHAPTER XLI.
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WEST.
Peculiar character of religious institutions in the West--St.
Benedict--Struggle of the monks against the decline of things--Origin
of monastic property--The possessions of the monks serve to
create respect for property--Population becomes spread over the
country--Science and letters in cloisters Gratian--arouses the study
of law, 238
CHAPTER XLII.
OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS DURING THE SECOND HALF OF THE MIDDLE AGES IN
THE WEST--THE MILITARY ORDERS.
Character of the military orders--Opinion of the Crusades--The
foundation of the military orders is a continuation of the Crusades,
242
CHAPTER XLIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT--EUROPE IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.
Transformation of the monastic spirit in the thirteenth
century--Religious institutions arise every where--Character of
European opposed to that of other civilizations--Mixture of various
elements in the spirit of the thirteenth century--Semi-barbarous
society--Christianity and barbarism--A delusion common in the study
of history--Condition of Europe at the beginning of the thirteenth
century--Wars become more popular--Why the intellectual movement
began in Spain sooner than in the rest of Europe--Ebullition of
evil during the course of the twelfth century--Tanchème--Eon--The
Manichees--Vaudois--Religious movement at the beginning of the
thirteenth century--The mendicant and preaching orders--The character
of these orders--Their influence--Their relations with the Papacy,
244
CHAPTER XLIV.
RELIGIOUS ORDERS FOR THE REDEMPTION OF CAPTIVES.
Multitude of Christians reduced to slavery--Religious orders for the
redemption of captives were necessary--The Order of the Trinity and
that of Mercy--St. Peter Armengol, 256
CHAPTER XLV.
UNIVERSAL ADVANCE OF CIVILIZATION IMPEDED BY PROTESTANTISM.
Effects of Protestantism on the progress of civilization in the world,
beginning with the sixteenth century--What enabled civilization,
during the middle ages, to triumph over barbarism--Picture of Europe
at the beginning of the sixteenth century--The civilizing missions
of the 16th century interrupted by the schism of Luther--Why the
action of the Church on barbarous nations has lost power during
three centuries--Whether the Christianity of our days is less
adapted to propagate the faith than that of the early ages of the
Church--Christian missions in the early times of the Church--What the
real mission of Luther has been, 260
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE JESUITS.
Their importance in the history of European civilization--Causes of
the hatred which has been excited against them--Character of the
Jesuits--Contradiction of M. Guizot on this subject--Whether it be
true, as M. Guizot says, that the Jesuits have destroyed nations in
Spain--Facts and dates--Unjust accusations against the Company of
Jesus, 268
CHAPTER XLVII.
THE FUTURE OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS--THEIR PRESENT NECESSITY.
Present state of religious institutions--Picture of society--Inability
of industry and commerce to satisfy the heart of man--Condition
of minds with respect to religion--Religious institutions will
be necessary to save existing society--Nothing fixed in that
society--Means are wanting for social organization--The march of
European nations has been perverted--Physical means of restraining the
masses--Moral means are required--Religious institutions reconcilable
with the advancement of modern times, 274
CHAPTER XLVIII.
RELIGION AND LIBERTY.
Rousseau--The Protestants Divine law--Origin of power--False
interpretation of the divine law--St. John Chrysostom--On paternal
authority--Relations between paternal authority and civil power,
281
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE ORIGIN OF SOCIETY, ACCORDING TO CATHOLIC THEOLOGIANS.
Doctrines of theologians on the origin of society--The character
of Catholic theologians compared to that of modern writers--St.
Thomas--Bellarmin--Suarez--St. Alphonsus de Liguori--Father
Concina--Billuart--The _Compendium_ of Salamanca, 288
CHAPTER L.
OF DIVINE LAW, ACCORDING TO CATHOLIC DOCTORS.
On the divine law--Divine origin of civil power--In what manner
God communicates this power--Rousseau--On pacts--The right of life
and death--The right of war--Power must necessarily emanate from
God--Puffendorf--Hobbes, 298
CHAPTER LI.
THE TRANSMISSION OF POWER, ACCORDING TO CATHOLIC DOCTORS.
_Direct_ or _indirect_ communication of civil power--The
distinction between the two opinions important in some respects; in
others, not so--Why Catholic theologians have so zealously maintained
the doctrine of mediate communication, 305
CHAPTER LII.
ON THE FREEDOM OF LANGUAGE UNDER THE SPANISH MONARCHY.
Influence of doctrines on society--Flattery lavished on power--Danger
of this flattery--Liberty of speech on this point in Spain during the
last three centuries--Mariana--Saavedra--In the absence of religion
and morality, the most rigorous political doctrines are incapable
of saving society--Why the conservative schools of our days are
powerless--Seneca--Cicero--Hobbes--Bellarmin, 311
CHAPTER LIII.
OF THE FACULTIES OF THE CIVIL POWER.
Of the faculties of civil power--Calumnies of the enemies of the
Church--Definition of _law_ according to St. Thomas--General reason
and general will--The venerable Palafox--Hobbes--Grotius--The
doctrines of certain Protestants favorable to despotism--Justification
of the Catholic Church, 317
CHAPTER LIV.
ON RESISTANCE TO THE CIVIL POWER.
Of resistance to the civil power--Parallel between Protestantism
and Catholicity on this point--Unfounded apprehensions of certain
minds--Attitude of revolutions in this age--The principle
inculcated by Catholicity on the obligation of obeying the lawful
authorities--Preliminary questions--Difference between the two
powers--Conduct of Catholicity and Protestantism with regard to the
separation of the two powers--The independence of the spiritual
power a guarantee of liberty to the people--Extremes which meet--The
doctrine of St. Thomas on obedience, 324
CHAPTER LV.
ON RESISTANCE TO DE FACTO GOVERNMENTS.
Governments existing merely _de facto_--Right of resistance to
these governments--Napoleon and the Spanish nation--Fallacy of the
doctrine establishing the obligation of obedience to mere _de facto_
governments--Investigation of certain difficulties--Accomplished
facts--How we are to understand the respect due to accomplished facts,
330
CHAPTER LVI.
HOW IT IS ALLOWED TO RESIST THE CIVIL POWER.
On resistance to lawful authority--The doctrines of the Council
of Constance on the assassination of a king--A reflection on the
inviolability of kings--Extreme cases--Doctrine of St. Thomas of
Aquin, Cardinal Bellarmin, Suarez, and other theologians--The Abbé
de Lamennais' errors--He is wrong in imagining that his doctrine,
condemned by the Pope, is the same as St. Thomas of Aquin's--A
parallel between the doctrines of St. Thomas and those of the Abbé
de Lamennais--A word on the temporal power of the Popes--Ancient
doctrines on resistance to power--Language of the Counsellors of
Barcelona--The doctrine of certain theologians on the case of the
Sovereign Pontiff's falling into heresy in his private capacity--Why
the Church has been calumniously accused of being sometimes favorable
to despotism, and sometimes to anarchy, 336
CHAPTER LVII.
ON POLITICAL SOCIETY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The Church and political forms--Protestantism and liberty--Language of
M. Guizot--The state of the question better defined--Europe at the end
of the fifteenth century--Social aristocracy, and democracy, 343
CHAPTER LVIII.
ON MONARCHY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The idea entertained of monarchy at this period--The application of
this idea--Difference between monarchy and despotism--The nature of
monarchy at the commencement of the sixteenth century--Its relations
with the Church, 346
CHAPTER LIX.
ON ARISTOCRACY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The nobility and the clergy--The differences between these two
aristocracies--The nobility and monarchy--Differences between them--An
intermediate class between the throne and the people--The causes of
the fall of the nobility, 348
CHAPTER LX.
ON DEMOCRACY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The opinion entertained of democracy--The prevailing doctrines
of that epoch--The doctrines of Aristotle neutralised by the
teaching of Christianity--On castes--A passage from M. Guizot on
castes--Influence of the celibacy of the clergy in preventing an
hereditary succession--The consequences resulting from a married
clergy--Catholicity and the people--Development of the industrial
classes in Europe--The Hanseatic Confederation--_Establishment of
the trades-corporations of Paris_--Industrial movement in Italy and
Spain--Calvinism and the democratic element--Protestantism and the
democrats of the sixteenth century, 350
CHAPTER LXI.
VALUE OF DIFFERENT POLITICAL FORMS--CHARACTER OF MONARCHY IN EUROPE.
Value of political forms--Catholicity and liberty--Monarchy was
essential--Character of European monarchy--Difference between
Europe and Asia--Quotation from Count de Maistre--An institution
for the limiting of power--Political liberty not indebted to
Protestantism--Influence of Councils--The aristocracy of talent
encouraged by the Church, 356
CHAPTER LXII.
HOW MONARCHY WAS STRENGTHENED IN EUROPE.
Monarchy in the sixteenth century is strengthened in Europe--Its
preponderance over free institutions--Why the word _liberty_ is a
scandal to some people--Protestantism contributed to the destruction
of popular institutions, 361
CHAPTER LXIII.
TWO SORTS OF DEMOCRACY.
Two sorts of democracy--Their parallel march in the history
of Europe--Their characters--Their causes and effects--Why
absolutism became necessary in Europe--Historical
facts--France--England--Sweden--Denmark--Germany, 364
CHAPTER LXIV.
CONTEST BETWEEN THE THREE SOCIAL ELEMENTS.
Contest between monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy--How monarchy
came to prevail--Fatal effects of the weakening of the political
influence of the clergy--Advantages which might have arisen from this
influence to popular institutions--Relations of the clergy with all
powers and classes of society, 370
CHAPTER LXV.
POLITICAL DOCTRINES BEFORE THE APPEARANCE OF PROTESTANTISM.
Parallel between the political doctrines of the eighteenth century,
those of modern publicists, and those which prevailed in Europe before
the appearance of Protestantism--Protestantism has prevented the
homogeneity of European civilization--Historical proofs, 374
CHAPTER LXVI.
OF POLITICAL DOCTRINES IN SPAIN.
Catholicity and politics in Spain--Real state of the question--Five
causes contributed to the overthrow of popular institutions in
Spain--Difference between ancient and modern liberty--The _Communeros_
of Castille--The policy of her kings--Ferdinand the Catholic and
Ximenes--Charles V.--Philip II., 377
CHAPTER LXVII.
POLITICAL LIBERTY AND RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE.
Political liberty and religious intolerance--Europe was developed
under the exclusive influence of Catholicity--Picture of Europe from
the eleventh to the fourteenth century--Condition of the social
problem at the end of the fifteenth century--Temporal power of the
Popes--Its character, origin, and effects, 382
CHAPTER LXVIII.
UNITY IN FAITH RECONCILED WITH POLITICAL LIBERTY.
It is false that unity of faith is opposed to political
liberty--Impiety is allied with liberty or despotism, according to
circumstances--Modern revolutions--Difference between the revolution
of the United States and that of France--Pernicious effects of the
French revolution--Liberty impossible without morality--Remarkable
passage from St. Augustin on forms of government, 388
CHAPTER LXIX.
INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.
Catholicity in its relations with intellectual development--What
is the influence of the principle of submission to
authority--What are the effects of this principle with
respect to all the sciences--Parallel between ancients and
moderns--God--Man--Society--Nature, 392
CHAPTER LXX.
HISTORICAL ANALYSIS OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.
Historical investigation of the influence of Catholicity on the
development of the human mind--Refutation of one of M. Guizot's
opinions--John Erigena--Roscelin and Abelard--St. Anselm, 398
CHAPTER LXXI.
RELIGION AND THE HUMAN INTELLECT IN EUROPE.
Religion and the human intellect in Europe--Difference between the
intellectual development of the nations of antiquity and those
of Europeans--Causes that have accelerated this development in
Europe--Origin of the spirit of subtilty--Service which the Church
rendered to the human mind by her opposition to the subtilties of the
innovators--Parallel between Roscelin and St. Anselm--Reflections on
St. Bernard--St. Thomas of Aquin--Advantage of his dictatorship in the
schools--Advent of St. Thomas in the middle ages of immense advantage
to me human mind, 404
CHAPTER LXXII.
PROGRESS OF THE HUMAN MIND FROM THE ELEVENTH CENTURY TO THE PRESENT
TIME.
Progress of the human mind from the eleventh century to our own
times--Different phases--Protestantism and Catholicity in their
relations to learning, to criticism, to the learned languages, to the
foundation of universities, to the progress of literature and the
arts, to mysticism, to high philosophy, to metaphysics, to ethics, to
religious philosophy, and to the philosophy of history, 412
CHAPTER LXXIII.
SUMMARY OF THE WORK--DECLARATION OF THE AUTHOR.
Summary of the work--The author submits it to the judgment of the
Roman Church, 419
NOTES
APPENDIX
INDEX
TABLE OF NOTES.
NOTE PAGE
1 421. Gibbon and Bossuet's History of the Variations.
2 421. Intolerance of Luther and the other Coryphæi of
Protestantism.
3 421. Origin of the name Protestantism.
4 422. Observations on names.
5 422. Of abuses in the Church.
6 423. Of the unity and harmonious action of Catholicism--Happy
idea of St. Francis of Sales.
7 423. Acknowledgments of the most distinguished Protestants with
regard to its weakness--Luther, Melancthon, Beza, Calvin,
Grotius, Papin, Puffendorf and Leibnitz--Of a posthumous
work by Leibnitz on religion.
8 424. On human knowledge--Louis Vives.
9 425. On mathematics--Eximeno, a Spanish Jesuit.
10 425. Heresies of the early ages--their character.
11 425. Superstition and fanaticism of Protestantism--Luther's devil,
Zwinglius's phantom, Melancthon's prognostics, Mathias
Harlem, the Tailor of Leyden, King of Sion; Hermann, Nicholas
Hacket, and others, visionaries and fanatics.
12 427. Visions of Catholics--St. Theresa, her visions.
13 428. Bad faith of the founders of Protestantism--Passages proving
this--Ravages committed by incredulity after that
time--Gruet--Remarkable passages from Montaigne.
14 429. Extravagance of the early heresies, a proof of the state of
knowledge in those times.
15 430. Canons and other documents which shew the solicitude of the
Church to improve the lot of slaves, and the various means
which she used to complete the abolition of slavery.
§ 1. Canons intended to improve the lot of slaves.
§ 2. Canons intended to defend the freed, and to protect
those who were recommended to the Church.
§ 3. Canons and other documents relating to the redemption
of captives.
§ 4. Canons relating to the protection of the freed.
436. § 5. Canons concerning the slaves of Jews.
§ 6. Canons concerning the enfranchisement of the slaves of
the Church.
§ 7. Conduct of the Church with regard to modern
slavery--Apostolic letters of St. Gregory XVI.--Slave
trade--Doctrine, conduct, and influence of the Church
with regard to the abolition of the trade, and of
slavery in the Colonies--Passage from Robertson.
16 442. Doctrines of Plato and Aristotle touching infanticide--Their
doctrine on the rights of society.
17 444. Degradation of woman in ancient times, especially in Rome.
18 444. The Germans of Tacitus judged according to subsequent events.
19 445. Corruption of ancient manners.
20 445. Different opinions of religion and philosophy on the power of
ideas--How far it is true that every idea requires an
institution.
21 446. Christianity is still in our days the source of mildness of
manners.
22 447. Influence of the Church on barbarian legislation--Councils of
Toledo--What the indulgence of the criminal code among the
barbarians proves.
23 449. Constant intervention of the Church in the administration of
public beneficence--Regulations of the Council of Trent on
this subject--Property of hospitals considered as that of the
Church.
24 450. Reference to the following note.
25 450. Distinction between civil and religious intolerance--Error of
Rousseau on this point--False doctrine of the _Contrat
Social_.
26 452. Passages from old laws relative to the Inquisition--Pragmatic
sanction of Ferdinand and Isabella--Laws of Philip II. and
III.--Pragmatic sanction of Ferdinand and Isabella concerning
the relations of the Spanish Inquisition with Rome--Passage
from Don Antonio Perez, which mentions the anecdote of the
preacher at Madrid--Letter from Phillip II. to Arias Montano,
on the subject of the library of the Escurial.
26 456. (_Appendix._) A few words on Puigblanch, Villeneuve, and
Llorente.
27 458. Religious institutions in an historical point of view--Last
_coup-d'œil_ at their origin and development--Details with
respect to the vow of chastity which virgins and widows made
in the early ages of the Church.
28 459. Remarkable texts explaining the passage of St. Paul in the
13th chapter of his Epistle to the Romans--Cicero--Horace.
29 462. A remarkable fact.
30 463. Quotations from P. Fr. John de Ste.-Marie, and from
P. Zeballos.
31 470. St. Thomas reminds princes of their duties.
32 471. The opinion of D. Felix d'Amat, bishop of Palmyra, on the
obedience due to _de facto_ governments.
33 471. Remarkable passages from St. Thomas and Suarez, on the
disputes which may arise between governors and the
governed--Father Marquez on the same subject.
34 475. Charter of _Hermandad_ between the kingdoms of Leon and
Galicia and that of Castille, for the preservation and
defence of their _fueros_ and liberties.
35 476. A remarkable passage from Capmany on the organization of the
industrial classes--The origin and salutary effects of the
institution of trades-corporation.
36 480. Reflections of Count de Maistre on the causes which render
the celebration of General Councils less frequent.
37 480. Indication of historical sources for the confirmation of
certain facts.
38 480. Texts of St. Thomas on political forms--Other texts of
St. Thomas to prove that the law, and not the will of man,
should govern--Opinions of P. Mariana--Opinions of the
venerable Palafox on the subject of imposts, taken from his
Memoir to the King--Severe language of the same author
against tyranny and those who advise or excuse it--Passage
from P. Marquez on the right of levying tributes in general;
its particular application to Castile--The opinion of the
same author relative to the right of the supreme authority to
the property of its subjects--A case in which, according to
him, that authority may dispose of this property.
39 484. Reference to historical sources to ascertain the march of the
development of monarchical power in the different provinces
of Spain.
40 484. A just observation of Count de Maistre on the conduct of the
Popes compared to that of other sovereigns.
41 485. Passages in which St. Anselm expounds his views on religious
subjects--Intellectual movement arising in the bosom of the
Church without transgressing the bounds of faith--Another
passage proving that the demonstration applied by Descartes
to the existence of God had been discovered by
St. Anselm--Corroborative Documents in support of a
refutation of M. Guizot's errors on the doctrines of Abelard.
PROTESTANTISM COMPARED WITH CATHOLICITY.
CHAPTER I.
NAME AND NATURE OF PROTESTANTISM.
There is a fact in existence among civilized nations, very important
on account of the nature of the things which it affects--a fact of
transcendent importance, on account of the number, variety, and
consequence of its influences--a fact extremely interesting, because it
is connected with the principal events of modern history. This fact is
Protestantism.
Like a clap of thunder, it attracted at once the attention of all
Europe; on one side it spread alarm, and on the other excited the most
lively sympathy: it grew so rapidly, that its adversaries had not time
to strangle it in its cradle. Scarcely had it begun to exist, and
already all hope of stopping, or even restraining it, was gone; when,
emboldened by being treated with respect and consideration, it became
every day more daring; if exasperated by rigour, it openly resisted
measures of coercion, or redoubled and concentrated its forces, to
make more vigorous attacks. Discussions, the profound investigations
and scientific methods which were used in combating it, contributed to
develop the spirit of inquiry, and served as vehicles to propagate its
ideas.
By creating new and prevailing interests, it made itself powerful
protectors; by throwing all the passions into a state of fury, it
aroused them in its favor. It availed itself, by turns, of stratagem,
force, seduction, or violence, according to the exigencies of times and
circumstances. It attempted to make its way in all directions; either
destroying impediments, or taking advantage of them, if they were
capable of being turned to account.
When introduced into a country, it never rested until it had obtained
guarantees for its continued existence; and it succeeded in doing so
everywhere. After having obtained vast establishments in Europe--which
it still retains--it was transported into other parts of the world, and
infused into the veins of simple and unsuspecting nations.
In order to appreciate a fact at its just value, to embrace it in
all its relations, and to distinguish properly between them, it is
necessary to examine whether the constituting principle of the fact can
be ascertained, or at least whether we can observe in its appearance
any characteristic trait capable of revealing its inward nature.
This examination is very difficult when we have to do with a fact of
the kind and importance of that which now occupies our attention. In
matters of this sort, numbers of opinions accumulate in the course of
time, in favor of all which arguments have been sought. The inquirer,
in the midst of so many and such various objects, is perplexed,
disconcerted, and confounded; and if he wish to place himself in a
more advantageous point of view, he finds the ground so covered with
fragments, that he cannot make his way without risk of losing himself
at every step.
The first glance which we give to Protestantism, whether we consider
its actual condition, or whether we regard the various phases of its
history, shows us that it is very difficult to find any thing constant
in it, any thing which can be assigned as its constituent character.
Uncertain in its opinions, it modifies them continually, and changes
them in a thousand ways. Vague in its tendencies, and fluctuating in
its desires, it attempts every form, and essays every road. It can
never attain to a well-defined existence; and we see it every moment
enter new paths, to lose itself in new labyrinths.
Catholic controversialists have pursued and assailed it in every
way; ask them what has been the result? They will tell you that they
had to contend with a new Proteus, which always escaped the fatal
blow by changing its form. If you wish to assail the doctrines of
Protestantism, you do not know where to direct your attacks, for
they are unknown to you, and even to itself. On this side it is
invulnerable, because it has no tangible body. Thus, no more powerful
argument has ever been urged, than that of the immortal Bishop of
Meaux--viz. "You change; and that which changes is not the truth." An
argument much feared by Protestantism, and with justice; because all
the various forms which are assumed to evade its force, only serve to
strengthen it. How just is the expression of that great man! At the
very title of his book, Protestantism must tremble: The History of the
Variations! A history of variations must be a history of error. (See
note [1] at the end of the vol.)
These unceasing changes, which we ought not to be surprised at finding
in Protestantism, because they essentially belong to it, show us
that it is not in possession of the truth; they show us also, that
its moving principle is not a principle of life, but an element of
dissolution. It has been called upon, and up to this time in vain, to
fix itself, and to present a compact and uniform body. How can that be
fixed, which is, by its nature, kept floating about in the air? How can
a solid body be formed of an element, the essential tendency of which
is towards an incessant division of particles, by diminishing their
reciprocal affinity, and increasing their repellent force?
It will easily be seen that I speak of the right of private judgment in
matters of faith, whether it be looked upon as a matter of human reason
alone, or as an individual inspiration from heaven.
If there be any thing constant in Protestantism, it is undoubtedly
the substitution of private judgment for public and lawful authority.
This is always found in union with it, and is, properly speaking,
its fundamental principle: it is the only point of contact among the
various Protestant sects,--the basis of their mutual resemblance. It is
very remarkable that this exists, for the most part, unintentionally,
and sometimes against their express wishes.
However lamentable and disastrous this principle may be, if the
coryphæi of Protestantism had made it their rallying point, and had
constantly acted up to it in theory and practice, they would have
been consistent in error. When men saw them cast into one abyss after
another, they would have recognised a system,--false undoubtedly;
but, at any rate, a system. As it is, it has not been even that: if
you examine the words and the acts of the first Reformers, you will
find that they made use of this principle as a means of resisting
the authority which controlled them, but that they never dreamed of
establishing it permanently; that if they labored to upset lawful
authority, it was for the purpose of usurping the command themselves;
that is to say, that they followed, in this respect, the example
of revolutionists of all kinds, of all ages, and of all countries.
Everybody knows how far Luther carried his fanatical intolerance; he
who could not bear the slightest contradiction, either from his own
disciples or anybody else, without giving way to the most senseless
fits of passion, and the most unworthy outrages. Henry VIII. of
England, who founded there what is called the liberty of thinking, sent
to the scaffold those who did not think as he did; and it was at the
instigation of Calvin that Servetus was burnt alive at Geneva.
I insist upon this point, because it seems to me to be of great
importance. Men are but too much inclined to pride; and if they heard
it constantly repeated, without contradiction, that the innovators
of the sixteenth century proclaimed the freedom of thought, a secret
interest might be excited in their favor; their violent declamations
might be regarded as the expressions of a generous movement, and
their efforts as a noble attempt to assert the rights of intellectual
freedom. Let it be known, never to be forgotten, that if these men
proclaimed the principle of free examination, it was for the purpose of
making use of it against legitimate authority; but that they attempted,
as soon as they could, to impose upon others the yoke of their own
opinions. Their constant endeavour was, to destroy the authority which
came from God, in order to establish their own upon its ruins. It is
a painful necessity to be obliged to give proofs of this assertion;
not because they are difficult to find, but because one cannot adduce
the most incontestable of them without calling to mind words and deeds
which not only cover with disgrace the founders of Protestantism, but
are of such a nature, that they cannot be mentioned without a blush on
the cheek, or written without a stain upon the paper.[2]
Protestantism, when viewed in a mass, appears only a shapeless
collection of innumerable sects, all opposed to each other, and
agreeing only in one point, viz. in protesting against the authority
of the Church. We only find among them particular and exclusive names,
commonly taken from the names of their founders; in vain have they made
a thousand efforts to give themselves a general name expressive of a
positive idea; they are still called after the manner of philosophical
sects. Lutherans, Calvinists, Zuinglians, Anglicans, Socinians,
Arminians, Anabaptists, all these names, of which I could furnish an
endless host, only serve to exhibit the narrowness of the circle in
which these sects are enclosed; and it is only necessary to pronounce
them, to show that they contain nothing universal, nothing great.
Everybody who knows any thing of the Christian religion must be
convinced by this fact alone, that these sects are not truly Christian.
But what occurred when Protestantism attempted to take a general name,
is singularly remarkable. If you examine its history, you will see
that all the names which it attempted to give itself failed, if they
contained any positive idea, or any mark of Christianity; but that it
adopted a name taken by chance at the Diet of Spires; a name which
carries with it its own condemnation, because it is repugnant to the
origin, to the spirit, to the maxims, to the entire history of the
Christian religion; a name which does not express that unity--that
union which is inseparably connected with the Christian name; a name
which is peculiarly becoming to it, which all the world gives to it by
acclamation, which is truly its own--viz. _Protestantism_.[3]
Within the vast limits marked out by this name, there is room for
every error and for every sect. You may deny with the Lutherans the
liberty of man, or renew with the Arminians the errors of Pelagius. You
may admit with some that real presence, which you are free to reject
with the Calvinists and Zuinglians; you may join with the Socinians
in denying the divinity of Jesus Christ; you may attach yourself to
Episcopalians, to Puritans, or, if you please, to the extravagances
of the Quakers; it is of no consequence, for you always remain a
Protestant, for you protest against the authority of the Church; your
field is so extensive, that you can hardly escape from it, however
great may be your wanderings; it contains all the vast extent that we
behold on coming forth from the gates of the Holy City.[4]
CHAPTER II.
CAUSES OF PROTESTANTISM.
What, then, were the causes of the appearance of Protestantism in
Europe, of its development, and of its success? This is a question
well worthy of being examined to the bottom, because it will lead us
to inquire into the origin of this great evil, and will put us in a
condition to form the best idea of this phenomenon, so often but so
imperfectly described.
It would be unreasonable to look for the causes of an event of this
nature and importance, in circumstances either trivial in themselves,
or circumscribed by places and events of a limited kind. It is a
mistake to suppose that vast results can be produced by trifling
causes; and if it be true that great events sometimes have their
commencement in little ones, it is no less certain that the commencing
point is not the cause; and that to be the commencement of a thing, and
to be its real cause, are expressions of a widely different meaning.
A spark produces a dreadful conflagration, but it is because it falls
upon a heap of inflammable materials. That which is general must have
general causes; and that which is lasting and deeply rooted must have
lasting and profound causes.
This law is true alike in the moral as in the physical order; but its
applications cannot be perceived without great difficulty, especially
in the moral order, where things of great importance are sometimes
clothed in a mean exterior; where each effect is found allied with so
many causes at once, connected with them by ties so delicate, that,
possibly, the most attentive and piercing eye may miss altogether, or
regard as a trifle, that which perhaps has produced very great results:
trifling things, on the other hand, are frequently so covered with
glitter, tinsel, and parade, that it is very easy to be deceived by
them. We are always too much inclined to judge by appearances.
It will appear from these principles, that I am not disposed to
give great importance to the rivalry excited by the preaching of
indulgences, or to the excesses which may have been committed by some
inferiors in this matter; these things may have been an occasion, a
pretext, a signal to commence the contest, but they were of too little
importance in themselves to put the world in flames. There would be,
perhaps, more apparent plausibility in seeking for the causes of
Protestantism in the characters and positions of the first reformers;
but this also would be unsatisfactory.
People lay great stress on the violence and fury of the writings and
speeches of Luther, and show how apt this savage eloquence was to
inflame men's minds, and drag them into the new errors by the deadly
hatred against Rome with which it inspired them. Too much stress also
is laid on the sophistical art, the order and elegance of the style
of Calvin; qualities which served to give an appearance of regularity
to the shapeless mass of new errors, and make them more acceptable
to men of good taste. The talents and other qualities of the various
innovators are described in the same way with more or less truth.
I will not deny to Luther, Calvin, and the other founders of
Protestantism, the titles on which their sad celebrity is founded;
but I venture to assert that we cannot attribute to their personal
qualities the principal influence upon the development of this evil,
without palpably mistaking and underrating the importance of the evil
itself, and forgetting the instructions of universal history.
If we examine these men with impartiality, we shall find that their
qualities were not greater than those of other sectarian leaders, if
so great. Their talents, their learning, and their knowledge, have
passed through the crucible of criticism, and there is, even among
Protestants, no well-instructed and impartial person who does not now
consider the extravagant eulogiums which have been lavished upon them,
as the exaggerations of party. They are classed among the number of
those turbulent men who are well fitted to excite revolutions; but
the history of all times and countries, and the experience of every
day, teach that men of this kind are not uncommon, and that they
arise everywhere when a sad combination of events affords them a fit
opportunity.
When causes more in proportion to Protestantism, by their extent
and importance, are sought for, two are commonly pointed out: the
necessity of reform, and the spirit of liberty. "There were numerous
abuses," says one party; "legitimate reform was neglected: this
negligence produced revolution." "The human intellect was in fetters,"
says another; "the mind longed to break its chains; Protestantism
was only a grand effort for the freedom of human thought, a great
movement towards liberating the human mind." It is true, that these
two opinions point out causes of great importance and of wide extent:
both are well adapted to make partisans. The one, by establishing the
necessity of reform, opens a wide field for the censure of neglected
laws and relaxed morals; this theme always finds sympathy in the heart
of man,--indulgent towards its own defects, but stern and inexorable
towards the faults of others. With respect to the other opinion, which
raises the cry of the movement of religious liberty and the freedom of
the human mind, it is sure to be widely adopted: there are always a
thousand echoes to a cry which flatters our pride.
I do not deny that a reform was necessary; to be convinced of this, I
need only glance at history, and listen to the complaints of several
great men, justly regarded by the Church as among the most cherished
of her sons. I read in the first decree of the Council of Trent, that
one of the objects of the Council was the reform of the Christian
clergy and people; I learn from the mouth of Pius IV., when confirming
the said Council, that one of the objects for which it was assembled,
was the correction of morals, and the re-establishment of discipline.
Notwithstanding all this, I am not inclined to give to abuses so
much influence as has been attributed to them. I must also say, that
it appears to me that we give a very bad solution of the question,
when, to show the real cause of the evil, we insist on the fatal
results produced by these abuses. These words also, "a new movement
of liberty," appear to me altogether insufficient. I shall say, then,
with freedom, in spite of my respect for those who entertain the first
opinion, and my esteem for the talents of those who refer all to the
spirit of liberty, that I cannot find in either that analysis, at once
philosophical and historical, which, without wandering from the ground
of history, examines facts, clears them up, shows their inward nature,
their relations and connections.
If men have wandered so much in the definition and explanation of
Protestantism, it is because they have not sufficiently observed that
it is not only a fact common to all ages of the history of the Church,
but that its importance and its particular characteristics are owing
to the epoch when it arose. This simple consideration, founded on
the constant testimony of history, clears up every thing; we have no
longer to seek in the doctrines of Protestantism for any thing singular
or extraordinary; all its characteristics prove that it was born in
Europe, and in the sixteenth century. I shall develop these ideas, not
by fanciful reasonings or gratuitous suppositions, but by adducing
facts which nobody can deny.
It is indisputable that the principle of submission to authority in
matters of faith has always encountered a vigorous resistance in the
human mind. I shall not point out here the causes of this resistance;
I propose to do so in the course of this work; I shall content myself
at present with stating this fact, and reminding those who may be
inclined to call it in question, that the history of the Church has
always been accompanied by the history of heresies. This fact has
presented different phases according to the changes of time and place.
Sometimes making a rude mixture of Judaism and Christianity, sometimes
combining the doctrines of Jesus Christ with the dreams of the East, or
corrupting the purity of faith by the subtilties and chicaneries of
Grecian sophistry; this fact presents us with as many different aspects
as there are conditions of the mind of man. But we always find in it
two general characteristics, which clearly show that it has always had
the same origin, notwithstanding the variation in its object and in the
nature of its results: these two characteristics are, hatred of the
authority of the Church, and the spirit of sect.
In all ages sects have arisen, opposing the authority of the Church,
and establishing as dogmas the errors of their founders: it was
natural for the same thing to happen in the sixteenth century. Now,
if that age had been an exception to the general rule, it seems to
me, looking at the nature of the human mind, that we should have
had to answer this very difficult question, How is it possible that
no sect appeared in that age? I say, then, error having once arisen
in the sixteenth century, no matter what may have been its origin,
occasion, and pretext--a certain number of followers having assembled
around its banner--Protestantism forthwith presents itself before me
in all its extent, with its transcendent importance, its divisions,
and subdivisions; I see it, with boldness and energy, making a general
attack on all the doctrines and discipline taught and observed
by the Church. In place of Luther, Zuinglius, and Calvin, let us
suppose Arius, Nestorius, and Pelagius; in place of the errors of the
former, let them teach the errors of the latter; it will all lead
to the same result. The errors will excite sympathy; they will find
defenders; they will animate enthusiasts; they will spread, they will
be propagated with the rapidity of fire, they will be diffused, they
will throw sparks in all directions; they will all be defended with
a show of knowledge and erudition; creeds will change unceasingly; a
thousand professions of faith will be drawn up; the liturgy will be
altered,--will be destroyed; the bonds of discipline will be broken; we
shall have to sum up all in one word, Protestantism.
How did it happen that the evil in the sixteenth century was
necessarily so extensive, so great, and so important? It was because
the society of that time was different from any other that had preceded
it; that which at other times would only have produced a partial fire,
necessarily caused in the sixteenth century a frightful conflagration.
Europe was then composed of a number of immense states, cast, so to
speak, in the same mould, resembling each other in ideas, manners, laws
and institutions, drawn together incessantly by an active communication
which was kept up alternately by rival and common interests; knowledge
found in the Latin language an easy means of diffusion; in fine, most
important of all, there had become general over all Europe a rapid
means of disseminating ideas and feelings, a creation which had flashed
from the human mind like a miraculous illumination, a presage of
colossal destinies, viz. the press.
Such is the activity of the mind of man, and the ardour with which it
embraces all sorts of innovation, that when once the standard of error
was planted, a multitude of partisans were sure to rally round it. The
yoke of authority once thrown off, in countries where investigation
was so active, where so many discussions were carried on, where ideas
were in such a state of effervescence, and where all the sciences
began to germinate, it was impossible for the restless mind of man
to remain fixed on any point, and a swarm of sects was necessarily
produced. There is no middle path; either civilized nations must remain
Catholic, or run through all the forms of error. If they do not attach
themselves firmly to the anchor of truth, we shall see them make a
general attack upon it, we shall see them assail it in itself, in all
that it teaches, in all that it prescribes. A man of free and active
mind will remain tranquil in the peaceful regions of truth, or he will
seek for it with restlessness and disquietude. If he find only false
principles to rest on,--if he feel the ground move under his feet,
he will change his position every moment, he will leap from error to
error, and precipitate himself from one abyss to another. To live amid
errors, and be contented with them, to transmit error from generation
to generation, without modification or change, is peculiar to those
who vegetate in debasement and ignorance; there the mind of man is not
active, because it is asleep.
From the point of view where we have now placed ourselves, we can see
Protestantism such as it is. From this commanding position we see
every thing in its place, and it is possible for us to appreciate
its dimensions, to perceive its relations, calculate its influence,
and explain its anomalies. Men there assume their true position; as
they are seen in close proximity with the great mass of events, they
appear in the picture as very small figures, for which others may
be substituted without inconvenience; which may be placed nearer or
farther off, and the features and complexion of which are not of any
consequence. Of what importance, then, are the energy of character, the
passion, and boldness of Luther, the literary polish of Melancthon, and
the sophistical talents of Calvin? We are convinced, that to lay stress
upon all this, is to lose our time, and explain nothing.
What were these men, and the other coryphæi of Protestantism? Was
there any thing really extraordinary about them? We shall find men
like them everywhere. There are some among them who did not surpass
mediocrity; and it may be said of almost all, that if they had not
obtained an unhappy celebrity, they would hardly have been celebrated
at all. Why, then, did they effect such great things? They found a mass
of combustibles, and they set them on fire. Certainly this was not
difficult, and yet it was all they did. When I see Luther, mad with
pride, commit those extravagances which were the subject of so many
lamentations on the part of his friends--when I see him grossly insult
all who oppose him, put himself in a passion, and vomit forth a torrent
of impure words against all those who do not humble themselves in his
presence, I am scarcely moved by any other feeling than pity. This man,
who had the extraordinary mania of calling himself the _Notharius Dei_,
became delirious; but he breathed, and his breath was followed by a
terrible conflagration: it was because a powder-magazine was at hand on
which he threw a spark. Nevertheless, like a man blinded by insanity,
he cried out, "Behold my power! I breathe, and my breath puts the world
in flames!"
But, you will ask me, what was the real influence of abuses? If we take
care not to leave the point of view where we now are, we shall see
that they were an occasion, and that they sometimes afforded food, but
that they did not exercise all the influence which has been attributed
to them. Do I wish, then, to deny, or to excuse them? Not at all.
I can appreciate the complaints of some men, who are worthy of the
most profound respect; but while lamenting the evil, these men never
pretended to detail the consequences. The just man when he raises his
voice against vice, the minister of the sanctuary when he is burning
with zeal for the house of the Lord, express themselves in accents so
loud and vehement, that they must not always be taken literally. Their
whole hearts are opened, and, inflamed as they are with a zealous love
of justice, they make use of burning words. Men without faith interpret
their expressions maliciously, exaggerating and misrepresenting them.
It appears to me to be clear, from what I have just shown, that the
principal cause of Protestantism is not to be found in the abuses
of the middle ages. All that can be said is, that they afforded
opportunities and pretexts for it. To assert the contrary would be to
maintain that there were always numerous abuses in the Church from
the beginning, even in the time of her primitive fervor, and of that
proverbial purity of which our opponents have said so much; for even
then there were swarms of sects who protested against her doctrines,
denied her divine authority, and called themselves the true Church. The
case is the same, and the inference cannot be denied. If you allege the
extent and rapid propagation of Protestantism, I will remind you that
such was also the case with other sects; I will repeat to you the words
of St. Jerome, with regard to the ravages of Arianism: "All the world
groans, and is full of astonishment at finding itself Arian." I will
repeat, again, that if you observe any thing remarkable and peculiar
belonging to Protestantism, it ought not to be attributed to abuses,
but to the epoch when it appeared.
I believe I have said enough to give an idea of the influence which
abuses could exert; yet, as it is a subject which has occupied much
attention, and on which many mistakes have been made, it will be well
to revert to it once more, to make our ideas on the subject still
clearer. That lamentable abuses had crept in during the course of the
middle ages, that the corruption of manners had been great, and that,
consequently, reform was required, is a fact which cannot be denied.
This fact is proved to us, with respect to the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, by irreproachable witnesses, such as St. Peter Damien, St.
Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. Some centuries later, even after many
abuses had been corrected, they were still but too considerable, as
is witnessed by the complaints of men who were inflamed with a desire
of reform. We cannot forget the alarming words addressed by Cardinal
Julian to Pope Eugenius IV., on the subject of the disorders of the
clergy, especially those of Germany.
Having fully avowed the truth on this point, and my opinion that the
cause of Catholicity does not require dissimulation or falsehood to
defend it, I shall devote a few words to examining some important
questions. Are we to blame the court of Rome or the bishops for these
great abuses? I venture to think that they were to be attributed to
the evils of the time alone. Let us call to mind the events which had
taken place in the midst of Europe; the dissolution of the decrepit
and corrupt empire of Rome; the irruption and inundation of northern
barbarians; their fluctuations, their wars, sometimes with each
other, and sometimes with the conquered nations, and that for so many
ages; the establishment and absolute reign of feudalism, with all its
inconveniences, its evils, its troubles, and disasters; the invasion of
the Saracens, and their dominion over a large portion of Europe; now,
let any reflecting man ask himself whether such revolutions must not of
necessity produce ignorance, corruption of morals, and the relaxation
of all discipline. How could the ecclesiastical society escape being
deeply affected by this dissolution, this destruction of the civil
society? Could she help participating in the evils of the horrible
state of chaos into which Europe was then plunged?
But were the spirit and ardent desire of reforming abuses ever wanting
in the Church? It can be shown that they were not. I will not mention
the saints whom she did not cease to produce during these unhappy
periods; history proves their number and their virtues, which, so
vividly contrasting with the corruption of the age, show that the
divine flames which descended on the Apostles had not been extinguished
in the bosom of the Catholic Church. This fact proves much; but there
is another still more remarkable, a fact less subject to dispute, and
which we cannot be accused of exaggerating; a fact which is not limited
to individuals, but which is, on the contrary, the most complete
expression of the spirit by which the whole body of the Church was
animated; I mean, the constant meeting of councils, in which abuses
were reproved and condemned, and in which sanctity of morals and the
observance of discipline were continually inculcated. Happily this
consoling fact is indisputable; it is open to every eye; and to be
aware of it, one only needs to consult a volume of ecclesiastical
history, or the proceedings of councils. There is no fact more worth
our attention; and I will add, that perhaps all its importance has not
been observed.
Let us remark what passes in other societies: we see that in proportion
to the change of ideas and manners, laws everywhere undergo a rapid
modification; and if manners and ideas come to be directly opposed
to laws, the latter, reduced to silence, are soon either abolished or
trodden under foot. Nothing of this sort has happened in the Church.
Corruption has extended itself everywhere to a lamentable degree; the
ministers of religion have allowed themselves to be carried away by
the stream, and have forgotten the sanctity of their vocation; but the
sacred fire did not cease to burn in the sanctuary; the law was there
constantly proclaimed and inculcated; and, wonderful spectacle! the men
who themselves violated it frequently assembled to condemn themselves,
to censure their own conduct, and thus to render more public and more
palpable the contrast which existed between their instructions and
their actions. Simony and incontinence were the prevailing vices;
if you open the canons of councils, you will find them everywhere
anathematized. Nowhere do you find a struggle so prolonged, so
constant, so persevering, of right against wrong; you always see,
throughout so many ages, the law, opposed face to face to the irregular
passions, maintain itself firm and immovable, without yielding a
single step, without allowing them a moment of repose or peace until
they were subjugated. And this constancy and tenacity of the Church
were not useless. At the commencement of the sixteenth century, at the
time when Protestantism appeared, we find abuses comparatively less
numerous, morals perceptibly improved, discipline become more strict,
and observed with sufficient regularity. The time when Luther declaimed
was not like that when St. Peter Damien and St. Bernard deplored the
evils of the Church. The chaos was reduced to form; order, light, and
regularity had made rapid progress; and an incontestable proof that
the Church was not then plunged in such ignorance and corruption as
is alleged, is, that she produced the great assemblage of saints who
shed so much lustre on the age, and the men who displayed their eminent
wisdom at the Council of Trent. Let us remember that great reforms
require much time; that they met with much resistance both from the
clergy and laity; that for having undertaken them with firmness, and
urged them with vigour, Gregory VII. has been charged with rashness.
Let us not judge of men without regard to times and places; and let
us not pretend to measure every thing according to our own limited
ideas; ages move in an immense orbit, and the variety of circumstances
produces situations so strange and complicated that we can hardly form
an idea of them.
Bossuet, in his History of the Variations, after having differently
classed the spirit which guided certain men, before the thirteenth
century, in their attempts at reform, and having cited the threatening
words of Cardinal Julian on the subject of abuses, adds: "It is thus
that, in the fifteenth century, this cardinal, the greatest man of
his times, deplored these evils, and foresaw their fatal effects; by
which he seems to have predicted those that Luther was about to bring
on all Christianity, and in the first place on Germany; and he was
not deceived when he thought that the neglect of reformation, and the
increased hatred against the clergy, was about to produce a sect more
dangerous to the Church than the Bohemians." (_Hist. des Variat._
liv. i.) It is inferred from these words that the illustrious Bishop
of Meaux found one of the principal causes of Protestantism in the
omission of a legitimate reform made in time. Nevertheless, we must
not suppose from this that Bossuet meant, in any degree, to excuse
the promoters of it, or that he had any idea of sanctioning their
intentions; on the contrary, he ranked them as turbulent innovators,
who, far from promoting the real reform which was desired by wise and
prudent men, only served to render it more difficult, by introducing,
by the means of their erroneous doctrines, the spirit of disobedience,
schism, and heresy.
In spite of the authority of Bossuet, I cannot persuade myself to look
upon abuses as one of the principal causes of Protestantism; but it is
not necessary to repeat what I have said in support of this opinion. It
may not, however, be useless to repeat, that the authority of Bossuet
is misapplied when used to justify the intentions of the reformers,
since the illustrious prelate is the first to declare them highly
culpable, and to observe, that if abuses were in existence, their
intention was not to correct them, but rather to make them a pretext
for abandoning the faith of the Church, throwing off the yoke of lawful
authority, breaking the bands of discipline, and introducing thereby
disorder and licentiousness.
How, indeed, can we attribute to the reformers the real spirit of
reform, when almost all of them proved the contrary by the ignominy
of their own conduct? If they had condemned, by the austerity of
their morals, or by devoting themselves to a severe asceticism, the
relaxations of which they complained, there might be a question whether
their extravagances were not the effects of exaggerated zeal, and if
some excess in the love of virtue had not drawn them into error. But
they did nothing of the kind. Let us hear on this point an eye-witness,
a man who certainly cannot be accused of fanaticism, since the
connection which he had with the leaders of Protestantism has rendered
him culpable in the eyes of many. Behold what Erasmus said, with his
usual wit and bitterness: "The reform, as far as it has gone, has been
limited to the secularization of a few nuns and the marriage of a few
priests; and this great tragedy finishes with an event altogether
comic, since every thing is wound up, as in comedies, by a marriage."
This shows to conviction the true spirit of the innovators of the
sixteenth century. It is clear that, far from wishing the reformation
of abuses, they wished rather to increase them. This bare consideration
of facts has led M. Guizot, on this point, into the path of truth,
when he rejects the opinion of those who pretend, that the Reformation
was "an attempt conceived and executed simply with the intention of
reconstructing a pure and primitive Church. The Reformation," he said,
"was not a mere attempt at religious amelioration, or the fruit of a
Utopian humanity and virtue." (_Histoire Générale de la Civilisation en
Europe_, douzième leçon.)
We shall have now no difficulty in appreciating at its just value
the explanation which the same writer gives of this phenomenon. "The
Reformation," says M. Guizot, "was a great attempt at the liberation of
human thought--an uprising of the mind of man." This attempt, according
to M. Guizot, arose out of the energetic movement given to the human
mind, and the state of inaction into which the Roman Church had
fallen; it arose from this, that the human mind advanced rapidly and
impetuously, while the Church remained stationary. Explanations of this
kind, and this one in particular, are very apt to draw admirers and
proselytes; these ideas are high, and placed on a level so lofty and
extended, that they cannot be looked at closely by the generality of
readers; and, moreover, they appear in brilliant imagery, which blinds
the sight and prejudices the judgment.
That which restrains freedom of thought, as understood by M. Guizot
and other Protestants is, authority in matters of faith: it was, then,
against this authority that the uprising of the mind declared itself;
or, in other words, the mind rebelled, because it advanced, while the
Church, immovable in her doctrines, was, according to the expression of
M. Guizot, "in a stationary state."
Whatever may be the disposition of mind of M. Guizot towards the dogmas
of the Catholic Church, he ought, as a philosopher, to have seen that
it was a great mistake to point out as the distinctive characteristic
of one period, that which had been at every time a glorious title
for the Church. For more than eighteen hundred years the Church has
been stationary in her dogmas, and it is no equivocal proof that she
possesses the truth: the truth is unchangeable, because it is one.
What the Church was in the sixteenth century, she had been before, and
she has been since. She had nothing particular, she adopted no new
characteristic. The reason, then, by which it is attempted to explain
this phenomenon, viz. the uprising of the mind, cannot advance the
explanation a single step; and if this be the reason why M. Guizot
compares the Church to governments grown old, we will tell him that
she has had this old age from her cradle. M. Guizot, as if he had
himself felt the weakness of his reasoning, presents his thoughts in
groups, and as it were _pêle-mêle_; he parades before his readers ideas
of different kinds, without taking pains to classify or distinguish
them; one would be inclined to think that he meant to distract them
by variety, and confound them by mixture. Judging, indeed, from the
context of his discourse, the epithets _inert and stationary_, which
he applies to the Church, do not appear, according to his intention,
to relate to matters of faith; and he gives us to understand that
he speaks rather of the pretensions of the Church with regard to
politics and state economy. He has taken pains, elsewhere, to repel as
calumnies, the charges of tyranny and intolerance which have been so
often made against the court of Rome.
We find here an incoherence of ideas which was not to be expected in so
clear a mind; and as many persons may scarcely be inclined to believe
how far this incoherence extends, it is necessary to give his words
literally: they will show us into what inconsistencies great minds can
fall when they are placed in a false position.
"The government of the human mind, the spiritual power," says M.
Guizot, "had fallen into an inert and stationary condition. The
political influence of the Church, of the court of Rome, was much
diminished; European society no longer was ruled by it; it had passed
under the control of lay governments. Nevertheless, the spiritual
power preserved all its pretensions, all its _éclat_, all its external
importance. There happened in this respect, what has more than once
happened to old governments. The greater part of the complaints made
against it were hardly better founded."
It is evident that M. Guizot, in this passage, does not point out
any thing which is at all connected with liberty, any thing which is
not quite of another kind: why does he not do so? The court of Rome,
he tells us, had seen its political influence diminished, and yet it
preserved its pretensions; the direction of European society no longer
belonged to it, but Rome kept its pomp and its external importance. Is
any thing here meant besides the rivalries of which political affairs
had been the subject? Did M. Guizot forget what he himself said some
pages before, viz. that it did not appear to him to be reasonable to
assign the rivalry of kings with the ecclesiastical power as the cause
of Protestantism, and that such a cause was not adequate to the extent
and importance of the event?
Although all this has no direct connection with freedom of thought,
still, if any one be inclined to attribute the uprising of the mind
to the intolerance of the court of Rome, let him listen to M. Guizot:
"It is not true," says he, "that in the sixteenth century the court of
Rome was very tyrannical; that abuses, properly so called, were then
more numerous, more crying, than they had been at other times; never,
perhaps, on the contrary, had the ecclesiastical power been more easy,
more tolerant, more disposed to let things go their own way. Provided
that it was not itself called in question, provided that the rights
which it had formerly enjoyed were allowed in theory, that the same
existence was secured, and the same tributes were paid to it, it would
willingly have allowed the human mind to remain at peace, if the human
mind had done the same in respect to it."
Thus M. Guizot seems to have forgotten what he had urged with the view
of showing that the Protestant Reformation was a great attempt at the
liberation of human thought--a rebellion of the mind of man. He does
not allege any thing which was an obstacle to the freedom of man's
thoughts; and he himself acknowledges that there was nothing to provoke
this rebellion, as, for example, intolerance or cruelty; he has himself
just told us that the ecclesiastical government of the sixteenth
century, far from being tyrannical, was easy and tolerant, and that,
if left to itself, it would willingly have allowed the human mind to
remain tranquil.
It is, then, evident, that the great attempt at the liberation of
the human mind is, in M. Guizot's mouth, only a vague, undefined
expression,--a brilliant veil with which he seems to have wished
to cover the cradle of Protestantism, even at the risk of being
inconsistent with his own opinions. He reverts to the political
rivalries which he before rejected. Abuses have no importance in his
eyes; he cannot find in them the real cause; and he forgets what he had
just asserted in the preceding lecture, viz. that if necessary reform
had been made in time, the religious revolution might have been avoided.
He tries to give a picture of the obstacles to the liberty of thought,
and endeavours to rise to the general considerations which embrace
all the importance and influences of the human mind; but he stops at
_éclat_, at _external importance_, and _political rivalries_; he lowers
his flight to the level of tributes and services.
This incoherence of ideas, this weakness of reasoning, and
forgetfulness of assertions previously made, will appear strange
only to those who are accustomed rather to admire the high flights
of talented men than to study their aberrations. It is true that M.
Guizot was in a position in which it was very difficult to avoid being
dazzled and deceived. If it be true that we cannot observe attentively
what passes on the ground around us without narrowing our view of
the horizon,--if this method leads the observer to form a collection
of isolated facts rather than compare general maxims, it is not less
certain that, by extending our observations over a larger space, we
run the risk of many illusions. Too great generalization borders on
hypothesis and fancy. The mind, when taking an immoderate flight in
order to get a general view of things, no longer sees them as they
really are; perhaps sometimes even loses sight of them altogether.
Therefore it is that the loftiest minds should frequently remember the
words of Bacon: "We do not want wings, but lead." Too impartial not to
confess that abuses had been exaggerated,--too good a philosopher not
to see that they could not have had so great an effect,--M. Guizot,
who was prevented by his sense of dignity and decency from joining the
crowd who incessantly raise the cry of cruelty and intolerance, has
made an effort to do justice to the Church of Rome; but, unfortunately,
his prejudices against the Church would not allow him to see things in
their true light. He was aware that the origin of Protestantism must be
sought in the human mind itself; but, knowing the age and epoch when he
was speaking, he thought it was necessary to propitiate his audience by
frequent appeals to liberty, in order that his discourse might be well
received. This is the reason why, after having tempered the bitterness
of his reproaches against the Church by a few soft words, he reserves
all that is noble, grand, and generous for the ideas which produced the
Reformation, and throws on the Church all the shadows of the picture.
While acknowledging that the principal cause of Protestantism is to
be found in the human mind, it is easy to abstain from these unjust
comparisons; and M. Guizot might have avoided the inconsistency to
which we have alluded. He might have discovered the origin of the fact
in the character of the human mind; he might, at the same time, have
shown the greatness and importance of it, while simply explaining the
nature and position of the societies in which it appeared. In fine, he
might have observed that it was no _extraordinary effort_, but a mere
repetition of what has happened in every age; and a phenomenon, the
character of which depended on the particular state of the atmosphere
in which it was produced.
This way of considering Protestantism as an ordinary event, increased
and developed by the circumstances in which it arose, appears to me to
be as philosophical as it is little attended to. I shall support it by
another observation, which will supply us with reasons and examples at
the same time.
The state of modern society for three hundred years has been such,
that all the events that have occurred have acquired a character of
generalization, and consequently an importance, which distinguishes
them from all the events of a similar kind which occurred at other
times and in a different social state. If we examine the history of
antiquity, we shall see that all the events therein occurring were
isolated in some sort from each other; this was what rendered them
less beneficial when they were good, and less injurious when they were
bad. Carthage, Rome, Sparta, Athens, all these nations more or less
advanced in the career of civilization, each followed its own path, and
progressed in a different way. Ideas, manners, political constitutions,
succeeded each other, without our being able to perceive any influence
of the ideas of one nation on those of another, or of the manners
of one nation on those of another; we do not find any evidence of a
tendency to bring nations to one common centre.
We also remark that, except when forced to intermix, ancient nations
could be a long time in close proximity without losing their
peculiarities, or suffering any important change by the contact.
Observe how different is the state of things in Europe in modern times.
A revolution in one country affects all others; an idea sent forth
from the schools agitates nations and alarms governments. Nothing is
isolated, every thing is general, and acquires by expansion a terrible
force. It is impossible to study the history of one nation without
seeing all the others make their appearance on the stage; and we cannot
study the history of a science or an art without discovering a thousand
connections with objects which do not belong to science or to art.
All nations are connected, objects are assimilated, relations increase.
The affairs of one nation are interesting to all the others, and
they wish to take part in them. This is the reason why the idea of
_non-intervention_ in politics is, and always will be, impracticable;
it is, indeed, natural for us to interfere in that in which we are
interested.
These examples, although taken from things of a different kind, appear
to me very well calculated to illustrate my idea of the religious
events of that period. Protestantism, it is true, is thereby stripped
of the philosophic mantle by which it has been covered from its
infancy; it loses all right to be considered as full of foresight,
magnificent projects, and high destinies, from its cradle, but I do not
see that its importance and extent are thereby diminished; the fact
itself, in a word, is unimpaired, but the real cause of the imposing
aspect in which it has presented itself to the world is explained.
Every thing, in this point of view, is seen in its just dimensions;
individuals are scarcely perceived, and abuses appear only what they
really are--opportunities and pretexts; vast plans, lofty and generous
ideas, and efforts at independence of mind, are only gratuitous
suppositions. Thence ambition, war, the rivalry of kings, take their
position as causes more or less influential, but always in the second
rank. All the causes are estimated at their real value; in fine, the
principal causes being once pointed out, it is acknowledged that the
fact was sure to be accompanied in its development by a multitude of
subordinate agents. There remains still an important question in this
matter, viz. what was the cause of the hatred, or rather the feeling of
exasperation, on the part of sectarians against Rome? Was it owing to
some great abuse, some great wrong on the part of Rome? There is but
one answer to make, viz. that in a storm, the waves always dash with
fury against the immovable rock which resists them.
So far from attributing to abuses all the influence which has been
assigned to them on the birth and development of Protestantism, I am
convinced, on the contrary, that all imaginable legitimate reforms,
and the greatest degree of willingness on the part of the Church
authorities to comply with every exigence, would not have been able to
prevent that unhappy event.
He has paid little attention to the extreme inconstancy and fickleness
of the human mind, and studied its history to little purpose, who does
not recognise in the event of the sixteenth century one of those great
calamities which God alone can avert by a special intervention of his
providence.[5]
CHAPTER III.
EXTRAORDINARY PHENOMENON IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.
The proposition contained in the concluding lines of the last
chapter suggests a corollary, which, if I am not mistaken, offers
a new demonstration of the divine origin of the Catholic Church.
Her existence for eighteen centuries, in spite of so many powerful
adversaries, has always been regarded as a most extraordinary thing.
Another prodigy, too little attended to, and of not less importance
when the nature of the human mind is taken into account, is, _the unity
of the Church's doctrines, pervading, as it does, all her various
instructions, and the number of great minds which this unity has always
enclosed within her bosom_.
I particularly call the attention of all thinking men to this point;
and although I cannot hope to develop this idea in a suitable manner,
I am sure they will find in it matter for very serious reflection.
This method of considering the Church may perhaps recommend itself to
the taste of some readers on another account, viz. because I shall lay
aside Revelation, in order to consider Catholicity, not as a Divine
religion, but as a school of philosophy.
No one who has studied the history of letters can deny that the Church
has, in all ages, possessed men illustrious for science. The history of
the Fathers of the first ages of the Church is nothing but the history
of the most learned men in Europe, in Africa, and in Asia; the list
of learned men who preserved, after the irruption of the Barbarians,
some remains of ancient knowledge, is composed of churchmen. In modern
times you cannot point out a branch of human knowledge, in which a
considerable number of Catholics have not figured in the first rank.
Thus there has been, for eighteen hundred years, an uninterrupted
chain of learned men, who were Catholics, that is, men united in the
profession of the doctrines taught by the Catholic Church. Let us
lay aside for a moment the divine characteristics of Catholicity, to
consider it only as a school or sect; I say, that in the fact which I
have pointed out, we find a phenomenon so extraordinary, that its equal
cannot be found elsewhere, and that no effort of reason can explain it,
according to the natural order of human things.
It is certainly not new in the history of the human mind for a
doctrine, more or less reasonable, to be professed for a time by a
certain number of learned and enlightened men; this has been shown
in schools of philosophy both ancient and modern. But for a creed to
maintain itself for many ages, by preserving the adhesion of men of
learning of all times and of all countries--of minds differing among
themselves on other points--of men opposed in interests and divided by
rivalries, is a phenomenon new, unique, and not to be found anywhere
but in the Catholic Church. It always has been, and still is, the
practice of the Church, while one in faith and doctrine, to teach
unceasingly--to excite discussion on all subjects--to promote the study
and examination of the foundations on which faith itself reposes--to
scrutinize for this purpose the ancient languages, the monuments of the
remotest times, the documents of history, the discoveries of scientific
observation, the lessons of the highest and most analytic sciences, and
to present herself with a generous confidence in the great lyceums,
where men replete with talents and knowledge concentrate, as in a
focus, all that they have learned from their predecessors, and all that
they themselves have collected: and nevertheless we see her always
persevere with firmness in her faith and in the unity of her doctrines;
we see her always surrounded by illustrious men, who, with their
brows crowned with the laurels of a hundred literary contests, humble
themselves, tranquil and serene, before her, without fear of dimming
the brightness of the glory which surrounds their heads.
We ask those who see in Catholicity only one of the innumerable
sects by which the earth has been covered, to point out elsewhere a
similar fact; to explain to us how the Church has been able to show
us a phenomenon, constantly existing, so opposed to the ever-varying
spirit of the human mind; let them tell us by what secret talisman
the Sovereign Pontiffs have been able to do what other men have found
impossible. Those men, who bowed their heads at the command of the
Vatican, who have laid aside their own opinions to adopt those of a
man called the Pope, were not simple and ignorant men. Look at them
attentively; you will see in the boldness of their mien their knowledge
of their own intellectual power; you will read in their bright and
penetrating eyes the flame of genius which burns in their breasts. They
are the same men who have filled the highest places in the academies
of Europe; who have spread their fame over the world, and whose names
have been handed down to future generations. Examine the history of all
ages, search all the countries of the world, and if you find anywhere
such an extraordinary combination of knowledge in union with faith, of
genius in submission to authority, and of discussion without breach
of unity, you will have made an important discovery, and science will
have to explain a new phenomenon. But you know well that you cannot
do so. This is the reason why you have recourse to new stratagems in
order to cast a shade on the brightness of this fact; for you feel that
impartial reason and common sense must draw from it the conclusion that
there is in the Catholic Church something which is not to be found
elsewhere.
These facts, say our adversaries, are certain; the reflections which
they suggest are dazzling at first sight; but if we examine the subject
thoroughly, we shall see the difficulties they raise disappear. This
phenomenon, which we have seen realized in the Catholic Church, and
which is not found elsewhere, only proves that there has always been
in the Church a fixed system, which has been developed with uniform
regularity. The Church knew that union is the source of strength; that
union cannot exist without unity of doctrine; and that unity cannot
be preserved without submission to authority. This simple observation
established, and constantly maintained, the principle of submission.
Such is the explanation of the phenomenon. The idea, we grant, is
profoundly wise, the scheme is grand, the system is extraordinary;
but they do not prove any thing in favor of the Divine origin of
Catholicism.
This is the best reply which they can make; it is easy to show that
the difficulty remains entire. Indeed, if it be true that there has
existed a society on earth which has been for eighteen centuries guided
by one fixed and constant principle--a society which has known how
to bind to this principle eminent men of all ages and countries, the
following questions must be asked of our adversaries:--Why has the
Church alone possessed this principle, and monopolized this idea? If
other sects have been in possession of it, why have they not acted on
it? All the philosophic sects have disappeared, one after another; the
Church alone remains. Other religions, in order to preserve some sort
of unity, have been compelled to shun the light, to avoid discussion,
to hide themselves in the thickest shades. Why has the Church preserved
her unity while seeking the light, while publishing her books in open
day, while lavishing all sorts of instruction, and founding everywhere
colleges, universities, and establishments of every description, where
all the splendor of knowledge and erudition has been concentrated?
It is not enough to say that there was a plan--a system; the difficulty
lies in the existence of this plan and this system; it consists in
explaining how they were conceived and executed. If we had to do with
a small number of men, in limited circumstances, times, and countries,
for the execution of a limited project, there would be nothing
extraordinary; but we have to do with a period of eighteen hundred
years, with all the countries of the world, with circumstances the
most varied, the most different, and the most opposed to each other;
we have to do with a multitude of men who did not meet together, or
act in concert. How is all this to be explained? If it were a plan and
a system devised by man, we should ask, What was the mysterious power
of Rome which enabled her to unite around her so many illustrious men
of all times and of all countries? How did the Roman Pontiff, if he be
only the chief of a sect, manage to fascinate the world to this extent?
What magician ever did such wonders? Men have long declaimed against
his religious despotism; why has no one been found to wrest the sceptre
from his grasp? why has not a pontifical throne been raised capable of
disputing the pre-eminence with his, and of maintaining itself with
equal splendor and power? Shall we attribute it to his temporal power?
This power is very limited. Rome was not able to contend in arms with
any of the other European powers. Shall we attribute it to the peculiar
character, to the knowledge or the virtues of the men who have occupied
the Papal throne? There has been, during these eighteen hundred years,
an infinite variety in the characters and in the talents and virtues of
the Popes. For those who are not Catholics, who do not see in the Roman
Pontiff the vicar of Jesus Christ,--the rock on which He has built His
Church,--the duration of this authority must be the most extraordinary
phenomenon; and it is certainly one of the questions most worthy of
being examined by the science which devotes itself to the history of
the human mind; how there existed for many centuries an uninterrupted
series of learned men, always faithful to the doctrines of the Roman
See?
M. Guizot himself, in comparing Protestantism with the Roman Church,
seems to have felt the force of this truth; and its light appears to
have made him confused in his remarks. Let us listen again to this
writer, whose talents and renown have dazzled, on this point, so
many readers, who do not examine the solidity of proofs when they
are clothed in brilliant images, and who applaud all kinds of ideas
when they are conveyed to them in a torrent of enchanting eloquence;
men who, pretending to intellectual independence, subscribe, without
inquiry, to the decisions of the leaders of their school; who receive
their doctrines with submission, and dare not even raise their heads to
ask for the titles of their authority. M. Guizot, like all the great
men among Protestants, was aware of the immense void which exists amid
its various sects, and of the force and vigour which is contained in
Catholicity; he has not been able to free himself from the rule of
great minds,--a rule which is explicitly confirmed by the writings of
the greatest men of the Reformation. After pointing out the inconstant
progress of Protestantism, and the error which it has introduced into
the organization of intellectual society, M. Guizot proceeds thus:
"People have not known how to reconcile the rights and necessities of
tradition with those of liberty; and the cause of it undoubtedly has
been, that the Reformation did not fully understand and accept either
its principles or its effects." What sort of a religion must that
be which does not fully understand and accept its principles or its
effects?
Did a more formal condemnation of the Reformation ever issue out of the
mouth of man? could any thing of the kind ever be said of the sects
of philosophers, ancient or modern? Can the Reformation, then, after
this, pretend to direct men or society? "Thence arises," continues
M. Guizot, "a certain air of inconsistency and narrowness of spirit,
which has often given advantages over it to its opponents. The latter
knew very well what they did and what they wished; they ascended to
the principles of their conduct, and avowed all their consequences.
There never was a government more consistent, more systematic than
that of the Church of Rome." But whence was the origin of a system so
consistent? When we consider the fickleness and inconstancy of the
human mind, do not this system, this consistency, and these fixed
principles, speak volumes to the philosopher and man of good sense?
We have observed those terrible elements of dissolution which have
their source in the mind of man, and which have acquired so much force
in modern society; we have seen with what fatal power they destroy
and annihilate all institutions, social, political, and religious,
without ever succeeding in making a breach in the doctrines of
Catholicity,--without altering that system, so fixed and so consistent.
Is there no conclusion to be drawn from all this in favour of
Catholicity? To say that the Church has done that which no schools, or
governments, or societies, or religions could do, is it not to confess
that she is wiser than every thing human? And does it not clearly prove
that she does not owe her origin to human thought, and that she is
derived from the bosom of the Creator? This society--formed, you say,
by men--this government, directed by men, has endured for eighteen
hundred years; it extends to all countries, it addresses the savage in
the forest, the barbarian in his tent, the civilized man in the most
populous cities; it reckons among its children the shepherd clothed
in skins, the laborer, the powerful nobleman; it makes its laws heard
alike by the simple mechanic at his work, and the man of learning in
his closet absorbed in the profoundest speculations. This government
has always had, according to M. Guizot, a full knowledge of its actions
and its wishes; it has always been consistent in its conduct. Is not
this avowal its most convincing apology, its most eloquent panegyric;
and shall it not be considered a proof that it contains within itself
something more than human?
A thousand times have I beheld this prodigy with astonishment; a
thousand times have my eyes been fixed upon that immense tree which
extends its branches from east to west, from north to south; I see
beneath its shade a multitude of different nations, and the restless
genius of man reposing in tranquillity at its feet.
In the East, at the period when this divine religion first appeared,
I see, amidst the dissolutions of all sects, the most illustrious
philosophers crowd to hear her words. In Greece, in Asia, on the banks
of the Nile, in all the countries where, a short time before, swarmed
innumerable sects, I see appear on a sudden a generation of great men,
abounding in learning, in knowledge, in eloquence, and all agreeing in
the unity of Catholic doctrine.
In the West, a multitude of barbarians throw themselves on an empire
falling to decay; a dark cloud descends upon an horizon charged with
calamities and disasters; there, in the midst of a people submerged in
the corruption of morals, and having lost even the remembrance of their
ancient grandeur, I see the only men who can be called worthy heirs of
the Roman name, seek, in the retirement of their temples, an asylum
for the austerity of their morals; it is there that they preserve,
increase, and enrich the treasure of ancient knowledge. But my
admiration reaches its height, when I observe that sublime intellect,
worthy heir of the genius of Plato, which, after having sought the
truth in all the schools, in all the sects, and with indomitable
boldness run through all human errors, feels itself subjugated by
the authority of the Church, and transforms the freethinker into the
great Bishop of Hippo. In modern times the series of great men who
shone in the times of Leo X. and Louis XIV. passes before my eyes.
I see the illustrious race still continue throughout the calamities
of the eighteenth century; and in the nineteenth I see fresh heroes,
who, after having followed error in all directions, come to hang their
trophies at the gates of the Catholic Church. What, then, is this
prodigy? Has a sect or religion like it ever before been seen? These
men study every thing, dispute on every thing, reply to every thing,
know every thing; but always agreeing in unity of doctrine, they bend
their noble and intellectual brows in respectful obedience to faith. Do
we not seem to behold another planetary system, where globes of fire
revolve in their vast orbits in the midst of immensity, always drawn
to their centre by a mysterious attraction? That central force, which
allows no aberration, takes from them nothing of their extent, or of
the grandeur of their movement; but it inundates them with light, while
giving to their motion a more majestic regularity.[6]
CHAPTER IV.
PROTESTANTISM AND THE MIND.
This fixedness of idea, this unanimity of will, this wisdom and
constancy of plan, this progress with a firm step towards a definite
object and end; and, in fine, this admirable unity, acknowledged in
favor of Catholicism by M. Guizot himself, have not been imitated by
Protestantism, either in good or evil. Protestantism, indeed, has not
a single idea, of which it can say: "This is my own." It has attempted
to appropriate to itself the principle of private judgment in matters
of faith; and if several of its opponents have been too willing to
accord it, it was because they were unable to find therein any other
constitutive element; it was also because they felt that Protestantism,
in boasting of having given birth to such a principle, labored to
throw disgrace on itself, like a father who boasts of having unworthy
and depraved sons. It is false, however, that Protestantism produced
this principle of private judgment, since it was itself the offspring
of that principle. That principle, before the Reformation, was formed
in the bosom of all sects; it is the real germ of all errors; in
proclaiming it, Protestants only yielded to a necessity which is common
to all the sects separated from the Church.
There was therein no plan, no foresight, no system. The mere resistance
to the authority of the Church included the necessity of unlimited
private judgment, and the establishment of the understanding as supreme
judge; even had the coryphæi of Protestantism wished from the first to
oppose the consequences and applications of this right, the barrier was
broken, and the torrent could not have been confined.
"The right of examining what we ought to believe," says a celebrated
Protestant, (_Germany_, by Mad. de Staël, part iv. chap. 2), "is the
foundation of Protestantism. The first Reformers did not think thus;
they thought themselves able to place the pillars of Hercules of the
mind according to their own lights; but they were mistaken in hoping to
make those who had rejected all authority of this kind in the Catholic
religion submit to their decisions as infallible." This resistance on
their part proves, that they were not led by any of those ideas, which,
although erroneous, show, in some measure, nobleness and generosity of
heart; and that it is not of them that the human mind can say: "They
have erred, but it was in order to give me more liberty of action."
"The religious revolution of the sixteenth century," says M. Guizot,
"did not understand the true principles of intellectual liberty; it
liberated the human mind, and yet pretended to govern it by law."
But it is in vain for man to struggle against the nature of things:
Protestantism endeavored, without success, to limit the right of
private judgment. It raised its voice against it, and sometimes
appeared to attempt its total destruction; but the right of private
judgment, which was in its own bosom, remained there, developed
itself, and acted there in spite of it. There was no middle course for
Protestantism to adopt: it was compelled either to throw itself into
the arms of authority, and thus acknowledge itself in the wrong, or
else allow the dissolving principle to exert so much influence on its
various sects, as to destroy even the shadow of the religion of Jesus
Christ, and debase Christianity to the rank of a school of philosophy.
The cry of resistance to the authority of the Church once raised, the
fatal results might be easily imagined; it was thus easy to foresee
that that poisoned germ, in its development, must cause the ruin of all
the Christian truths; and what could prevent its rapid development in
a soil where fermentation was so active? Catholics were not wanting to
proclaim loudly the greatness and imminence of the danger; and it must
be allowed that many Protestants foresaw it clearly. No one is ignorant
that the most distinguished men of the sect gave their opinions on
this point, even from the beginning. Men of the greatest talent never
found themselves at ease in Protestantism. They always felt that there
was an immense void in it; this is the reason why they have constantly
inclined either towards irreligion or towards Catholic unity.
Time, the best judge of opinions, has confirmed these melancholy
prognostics. Things have now reached such a pass, that those only who
are very ill instructed, or who have a very limited grasp of mind, can
fail to see that the Christian religion, as explained by Protestants,
is nothing more than an opinion--a system made up of a thousand
incoherent parts, and which is degraded to the level of the schools
of philosophy. If Christianity still seems to surpass these schools
in some respects, and preserves some features which cannot be found
in what is the pure invention of the mind of man, it ought not to be
a matter of astonishment. It is owing to that sublimity of doctrine
and that sanctity of morality which, more or less disfigured, always
shines while a trace is preserved of the words of Jesus Christ. But
the feeble light which struggles with darkness after the sun has sunk
below the horizon, cannot be compared to that of day: darkness advances
and spreads; it extinguishes the expiring reflection, and night comes
on. Such is the doctrine of Christianity among Protestants. A glance
at these sects shows us that they are not purely philosophical, but it
shows us at the same time that they have not the characters of true
religion. Christianity has no authority therein; and is there like a
being out of its proper element,--a tree deprived of its roots: its
face is pale and disfigured like that of a corpse. Protestantism talks
of faith, and its fundamental principle destroys it; it endeavors to
exalt the gospel, and its own principle, by subjecting that gospel to
private judgment, weakens its authority. If it speak of the sanctity
and purity of Christian morality, it is reminded that some of its
dissenting sects deny the divinity of Jesus Christ; and that they all
may do so according to the principle on which it rests. The Divinity
of Jesus Christ once doubted, the God-made man is reduced to the rank
of a great philosopher and legislator; He has no longer the authority
necessary to give to His laws the august sanction which renders them
so holy in the eyes of men; He can no longer imprint upon them the
seal which raises them above all human thoughts, and His sublime
instructions cease to be lessons flowing from the lips of uncreated
Wisdom.
If you deprive the human mind of the support of authority of some
kind or other, on what can it depend? Abandoned to its own delirious
dreams, it is forced again into the gloomy paths which led the
philosophers of the ancient schools to chaos. Reason and experience
are here agreed. If you substitute the private judgment of Protestants
for the authority of the Church, all the great questions respecting
God and man remain without solution. All the difficulties are left;
the mind is in darkness, and seeks in vain for a light to guide it in
safety: stunned by the voices of a hundred schools, who dispute without
being able to throw any light on the subject, it relapses into that
state of discouragement and prostration in which Christianity found it,
and from which, with so much exertion, she had withdrawn it. Doubt,
pyrrhonism, and indifference become the lot of the greatest minds; vain
theories, hypothetical systems, and dreams take possession of men of
more moderate abilities; the ignorant are reduced to superstitions and
absurdities.
Of what use, then, would Christianity have been on the earth, and what
would have been the progress of humanity? Happily for the human race,
the Christian religion was not abandoned to the whirlwind of Protestant
sects. In Catholic authority she has found ample means of resisting the
attacks of sophistry and error. What would have become of her without
it? Would the sublimity of her doctrines, the wisdom of her precepts,
the unction of her counsels, have been now any thing more than a
beautiful dream, related in enchanting language by a great philosopher?
Yes, I must repeat, without the authority of the Church there is no
security for faith; the divinity of Jesus Christ becomes a matter
of doubt; His mission is disputed; in fact, the Christian religion
disappears. If she cannot show us her heavenly titles, give us full
certainty that she has come from the bosom of the Eternal, that her
words are those of God Himself, and that He has condescended to appear
on earth for the salvation of men, she has then lost her right to
demand our veneration. Reduced to the level of human ideas, she must,
then, submit to our judgment like other mere opinions; at the tribunal
of philosophy she may endeavor to maintain her doctrines as more or
less reasonable; but she will always be liable to the reproach of
having wished to deceive us, by passing herself off as divine when she
was only human; and in all discussions on the truth of her doctrines,
she will have this fatal presumption against her, viz. that the account
of her origin was an imposture.
Protestants boast of their independence of mind, and reproach the
Catholic religion with violating the most sacred rights, by demanding
a submission which outrages the dignity of man. Here extravagant
declamation about the strength of our understanding is introduced with
good effect; and a few seductive images and expressions, such as "_bold
flights_" and "_glittering wings_," &c., are enough to delude many
readers.
Let the human mind enjoy all its rights; let it boast of possessing
that spark of divinity called the intellect; let it pass over all
nature in triumph, observing all the beings by which it is surrounded,
and congratulate itself on its own immense superiority, in the midst
of the wonders with which it has known how to embellish its abode;
let it point out, as proofs of its strength and grandeur, the changes
which are everywhere worked by its presence; by its intellectual
force and boldness it has acquired the complete mastery over nature.
Let us acknowledge the dignity and elevation of our minds to show
our gratitude to our Creator, but let us not forget our weakness and
defects. Why should we deceive ourselves by fancying that we know what
we are really ignorant of? Why forget the inconstancy and variableness
of our minds, and conceal the fact, that with respect to many things,
even of those with which we are supposed to be acquainted, we have but
confused ideas? How delusive is our knowledge, and what exaggerated
notions we have of our progress in information? Does not one day
contradict what another had affirmed? Time runs its course, laughs at
our predictions, destroys our plans, and clearly shows how vain are our
projects.
What have those geniuses who have descended to the foundations of
science, and risen by the boldest flights to the loftiest speculations,
told us? After having reached the utmost limits of the space which it
is permitted to the human mind to range over,--after having trodden the
most secret paths of science, and sailed on the vast ocean of moral
and physical nature, the greatest minds of all ages have returned
dissatisfied with the results. They have seen a beautiful illusion
appear before their eyes,--the brilliant image which enchanted them
has vanished; when they thought they were about to enter a region
of light, they have found themselves surrounded with darkness, and
they have viewed with affright the extent of their ignorance. It is
for this reason that the greatest minds have so little confidence
in the strength of the human intellect, although they cannot but be
fully aware that they are superior to other men. The sciences, in the
profound observation of Pascal, have two extremes which meet each
other: the first is, the pure natural state of ignorance in which men
are at their birth; the other extreme is, that at which great minds
arrive when, having reached the utmost extent of human knowledge, they
find that they know nothing, and that they are still in the same state
of ignorance as at first. (_Pensées_, 1 partie, art. 6.)
Catholicism says to man, "Thy intellect is weak, thou hast need of a
guide in many things." Protestantism says to him, "Thou art surrounded
by light, walk as thou wilt; thou canst not have a better guide than
thyself." Which of the two religions is most in accordance with the
lessons of the highest philosophy?
It is not, therefore, surprising that the greatest minds among
Protestants have all felt a certain tendency towards Catholicism, and
have seen the wisdom of subjecting the human mind, in some things,
to the decision of an infallible authority. Indeed, if an authority
can be found uniting in its origin, its duration, its doctrines, and
its conduct, all the characteristics of divinity, why should the mind
refuse to submit to her; and what has it to gain by wandering, at the
mercy of its illusions, on the most serious subjects, in paths where it
only meets with recollections of errors, with warnings and delusions?
If the human mind has conceived too great an esteem for itself, let
it study its own history, in order to see and understand how little
security is to be found in its own strength. Abounding in systems,
inexhaustible in subtilties; as ready in conceiving a project as
incapable of maintaining it; full of ideas which arise, agitate, and
destroy each other, like the insects which abound in lakes; now raising
itself on the wings of sublime inspiration, and now creeping like a
reptile on the face of the earth; as able and willing to destroy the
works of others, as it is impotent to construct any durable ones of
its own; urged on by the violence of passion, swollen with pride,
confounded by the infinite variety of objects which present themselves
to it; confused by so many false lights and so many deceptive
appearances, the human mind, when left entirely to itself, resembles
those brilliant meteors which dart at random through the immensity of
the heavens, assume a thousand eccentric forms, send forth a thousand
sparks, dazzle for a moment by their fantastic splendour, and disappear
without leaving even a reflected light to illuminate the darkness.
Behold the history of man's knowledge! In that immense and confused
heap of truth, error, sublimity, absurdity, wisdom, and folly, are
collected the proofs of my assertions, and to that do I refer any one
who may be inclined to accuse me of having overcharged the picture.[7]
CHAPTER V.
INSTINCT OF FAITH IN THE SCIENCES.
The truth of what I have just advanced with respect to the weakness
of our intellect, is proved by the fact that the hand of God has
placed at the bottom of our souls a preservative against the excessive
changeability of our minds, even in things which do not regard
religion. Without this preservative all social institutions would be
destroyed, or rather never would have had existence; without it the
sciences would not have advanced a step, and when it had disappeared
from the human heart, individuals and society would have been swallowed
up by chaos. I allude to a certain tendency to defer to authority--to
the _instinct of faith_, if I may so call it--an instinct which we
ought to examine with great attention, if we wish to know any thing of
the human mind, and the history of its development.
It has often been observed that it is impossible to comply with the
most urgent necessities, or perform the most ordinary acts of life,
without respecting the authority of the statement of others; it is easy
to understand that, without this faith, all the treasures of history
and experience would soon be dissipated, and that even the foundation
of all knowledge would disappear.
These important observations are calculated to show how vain is the
charge against the Catholic religion, of requiring nothing but faith;
but this is not my only object here; I wish to present the matter under
another aspect, and place the question in such a position as to make
this truth gain in extent and interest, without losing any thing of its
immovable firmness. In looking over the history of human knowledge, and
glancing at the opinions of our contemporaries, we constantly observe
that the men who boast the most of their spirit of inquiry and freedom
of thought, only echo the opinions of others. If we examine with
attention that great study which, under the name of science, has made
so much noise in the world, we shall observe that it contains at bottom
a large portion of authority; and that if a perfectly free spirit of
inquiry were to be introduced into it, even with respect to points
of pure reason, the greatest part of the edifice of science would be
destroyed, and very few men would remain in possession of its secrets.
No branch of knowledge, whatever may be the clearness and exactitude
of which it boasts, is an exception to this rule. Do not the natural
and exact sciences, rich as they are in evident principles, rigorous
in their deductions, abounding in observation and experience, depend,
nevertheless, for a great many of their truths, upon other truths of a
higher nature; the knowledge of which necessarily requires a delicacy
of observation, a power of calculation, a clear and penetrating _coup
d'œil_, which belongs to few?
When Newton proclaimed to the scientific world the fruit of his
profound calculations, how many of his disciples could flatter
themselves that they were able to confirm them by their own
convictions? I do not except from this question many of those who, by
laborious efforts, had been able to comprehend something of this great
man; they had followed the mathematician in his calculations, they
had a full knowledge of the mass of facts and experience which the
naturalist exposed to their view; they had listened to the reasons on
which the philosopher rested his conjectures; in this way they thought
that they were _fully convinced_, and that they did not owe their
assent to any thing but the force of reason and evidence. Well, take
away the name of Newton, efface from the mind the profound impression
made by the authority of the man who made so extraordinary a discovery,
and has employed so much genius in supporting it,--take away, I repeat
it, the shade of Newton, and you will directly see, in the minds of his
disciples, their principles vacillate, their reasonings become less
convincing and exact, and their observations appear less in accordance
with the facts. Then, he who thought himself a perfectly impartial
observer, a perfectly independent thinker, will see and understand to
how great an extent he was enthralled by the force of authority, by
the ascendency of genius; he will find that, on a variety of points,
he _assented_ without being _convinced_; and that, instead of being
a perfectly independent philosopher, he was only an obedient and
accomplished pupil.
I appeal with confidence to the testimony, not of the ignorant, not
of those who have only a smattering of scientific knowledge, but of
real men of learning, of those who have devoted much time to the
various branches of study. Let them look into their own minds, let
them examine anew what they call their scientific convictions, let
them ask themselves, with perfect calmness and impartiality, whether,
even on those subjects in which they consider themselves the most
advanced, their minds are not frequently controlled by the ascendency
of some author of the first rank. I believe they will be compelled to
acknowledge that, if they strictly applied the method of Descartes
even to some of the questions which they have studied the most, they
would find that they believe rather than are convinced. Such always
has been, and such always will be, the case. It is a thing deeply
rooted in the nature of our minds, and it cannot be prevented. Perhaps
the regulation is a matter of absolute necessity; perhaps it contains
much of that instinct of preservation which God, with so much wisdom,
has diffused throughout society; perhaps it is intended to counteract
the many elements of dissolution which society contains within its
bosom. Undoubtedly, it is often very much to be regretted that men
servilely follow in the footsteps of others, and injurious consequences
not unfrequently are the result. But it would be still worse, if men
constantly held themselves in an attitude of resistance to all others,
for fear of deception. Woe to man and to society, if the philosophic
mania of wishing to submit all matters to a rigorous examination were
to become general in the world; and woe to science, if this rigorous,
scrupulous, and independent scrutiny were extended to every thing.
I admire the genius of Descartes, and acknowledge the signal services
which he has rendered to science; but I have more than once thought
that, if his method of doubting became general for any time, society
would be destroyed. And it seems to me that, among learned men
themselves, among impartial philosophers, this method would do great
harm; at least, it may be supposed that the number of men devoid of
sense in the scientific world would be considerably increased.
Happily there is no danger of this being the case. If it be true that
there is always in man a certain tendency towards folly, there is
also always to be found there a fund of good sense which cannot be
destroyed. When certain individuals of heated imaginations attempt to
involve society in their delirium, society answers with a smile of
derision; or if it allows itself to be seduced for a moment, it soon
returns to its senses, and repels with indignation those who have
endeavored to lead it astray. Passionate declamation against vulgar
prejudice, against docility in following others and willingness to
believe all without examination, is only considered as worthy of
contempt by those who are intimately acquainted with human nature.
Are not these feelings participated in by many who belong not to the
vulgar? Are not the sciences full of gratuitous suppositions, and have
they not their weak points, with which, however, we are satisfied, as
if they afforded a firm basis to rest upon?
The right of possession and prescription is also one of the
peculiarities which the sciences present to us; and it is well worthy
of remark that, without ever having borne the name, this right has been
acknowledged by a tacit but unanimous consent. How can this be? Study
the history of the sciences, and you will find at every step this right
acknowledged and established. How is it, amid the continual disputes
which have divided philosophers, that we see an old opinion make a
long resistance to a new one, and sometimes succeed in preventing its
establishment? It is because the old opinion was in possession, and
was strengthened by the right of prescription. It is of no importance
that the words were not used, the result was the same; this is the
reason why discoverers have so often been despised, opposed, and even
persecuted.
It is necessary to make this avowal, although it may be repugnant to
our pride, and may scandalize some sincere admirers of the progress of
knowledge. These advances have been numerous; the field over which the
human mind has exercised itself, and its sphere of action, are immense;
the works by which it has proved its power are admirable; but there is
always in all this a large portion of exaggeration, and it is necessary
to make a considerable allowance, especially in the moral sciences.
It cannot justly be inferred, from these exaggerated statements, that
our intellect is capable of advancing in every path with perfect ease
and activity; no deduction can be drawn from it to contradict the fact
which we have just established, viz. the mind of man is almost always
in subjection, even imperceptibly, to the authority of other men.
In every age there appear a small number of privileged spirits, who,
by nature superior to all the rest, serve as guides in the various
careers; a numerous crowd, who think themselves learned, follow them
with precipitation, and, fixing their eyes on the standard which has
been raised, rush breathlessly after it; and yet, strange as it is,
they all boast of their independence, and flatter themselves that they
are distinguishing themselves by pursuing the new path; one would
imagine that they had discovered it, and that they were walking in it
guided by their own light and inspirations. Necessity, taste, or a
thousand other circumstances, lead us to cultivate this or that branch
of knowledge; our own weakness constantly tells us that we have no
creative power; that we cannot produce any thing of our own, and that
we are incapable of striking out a new path; but we flatter ourselves
that we share some part of the glory belonging to the illustrious
chief whose banner we follow; we sometimes will succeed in persuading
ourselves, in the midst of these reveries, that we do not fight under
anybody's standard, and that we are only rendering homage to our own
convictions, when, in reality, we are the proselytes of others.
Herein common sense shows itself to be wiser than our weak reason; and
thus language, which gives such deep expression to things, where we
find, without knowing whence they come, so much truth and exactitude,
gives us a severe admonition on the subject of these vain pretensions.
In spite of us, language calls things by their right names, and knows
how to class us and our opinions according to the leader that we
follow. What is the history of science but the history of the contests
of a small number of illustrious men? If we glance over ancient and
modern times, and bring into view the various branches of knowledge,
we shall see a number of schools founded by a philosopher of the first
rank, and then falling under the direction of another whose talents
have made him worthy to succeed the founder. Thus the thing goes on,
until circumstances having changed, or the spirit of vitality being
gone, the school dies a natural death, unless a man of bold and
independent mind appears, who takes the old school and destroys it, in
order to establish his own doctrines on the ruins.
When Descartes dethroned Aristotle, did he not immediately take his
place? Then philosophers pretended to independence--an independence
which was contradicted by the very name they bore, that of Cartesians.
Like nations who, in times of rebellion, cry out for liberty, dethrone
their old king, and afterwards submit to the first man who has the
boldness to seize the vacant throne.
It is thought in our age, as it has been in times gone by, that the
human mind acts with perfect independence, owing to declamation against
authority in scientific matters, and the exaltation of the freedom of
thought. The opinion has become general that, in these times, the
authority of any one man is worth nothing; it has been thought that
every man of learning acts according to his own convictions alone.
Moreover, systems and hypotheses have lost all credit, and a great
desire for examination and analysis has become prevalent. This has
made people believe not only that authority in scientific matters is
completely gone, but that it is henceforth impossible.
At first sight there appears to be some truth in this; but if we look
attentively around us, we shall observe that the number of leaders
is only somewhat increased, and the time of their command somewhat
shortened. Our age is truly one of commotions, literary and scientific
revolutions, like those in politics, where nations imagine that they
possess more liberty because the government is placed in the hands of
a greater number of persons, and because they find more facility in
getting rid of their rulers. They destroy those men to whom but a short
time before they have given the names of fathers and liberators; then,
the first transport being passed, they allow other men to impose upon
them a yoke in reality not less heavy. Besides the examples afforded
us by the history of the past century, at the present day we see only
great names succeed each other, and the leaders of the human mind take
each other's places.
In the field of politics, where one would imagine the spirit of
freedom ought to have full scope, do we not see men who take the
lead; and are they not looked upon as the generals of an army during
a campaign? In the parliamentary arena, do we see any thing but two
or three bodies of combatants, performing their evolutions under
their respective chiefs with perfect regularity and discipline? These
truths are well understood by those who occupy these high positions!
They are acquainted with our weakness, and they know that men are
commonly deceived by mere words. A thousand times must they have been
tempted to smile, when, contemplating the field of their triumphs,
and seeing themselves surrounded by followers who, proud of their own
intelligence, admire and applaud them, they have heard one of the most
ardent of their disciples boast of his unlimited freedom of thought,
and of the complete independence of his opinions and his votes.
Such is man, as shown to us by history and the experience of every
day. The inspiration of genius, that sublime force which raises the
minds of some privileged men, will always exercise, not only over the
ignorant, but even over the generality of men who devote themselves
to science, a real fascination. Where, then, is the insult which the
Catholic religion offers to reason when, presenting titles which prove
her divinity, she asks for that faith which men grant so easily to
other men in matters of various kinds, and even in things with which
they consider themselves to be the best acquainted? Is it an insult to
human reason to point out to him a fixed and certain rule with respect
to matters of the greatest importance, while, on the other hand, she
leaves him perfectly free to think as he pleases on all the various
questions which God has left to his discretion? In this the Church
only shows herself to be in accordance with the lessons of the highest
philosophy. She shows a profound knowledge of the human mind, and she
delivers it from all the evils which are inflicted by its fickleness,
its inconstancy, and its ambition, combined as these qualities are with
an extraordinary tendency to defer to the opinions of individuals.
Who does not see that the Catholic Church puts thereby a check on the
spirit of proselytism, of which society has had so much reason to
complain? Since there is in man this irresistible tendency to follow
the footsteps of another, does she not confer an eminent service on
humanity, by showing it a sure way of following the example of a God
incarnate? Does she not thus take human liberty under her protection,
and at the same time save from shipwreck those branches of knowledge
which are the most necessary to individuals and to society?[8]
CHAPTER VI.
DIFFERENCES IN THE RELIGIOUS WANTS OF NATIONS--MATHEMATICS--MORAL
SCIENCES.
The progress of society, and the high degree of civilization and
refinement to which modern nations have attained, will no doubt be
urged against the authority which seeks to exercise jurisdiction over
the mind. In this way men will attempt to justify what they call the
emancipation of the human mind. For my own part, this objection seems
to have so little solidity, and to be so little supported by facts,
that, from the progress of society, I should, on the contrary, conclude
that there is the more need of that living rule which is deemed
indispensable by Catholics.
To say that society in its infancy and youth may have required
this authority as a check, but that this check has become useless
and degrading since the human mind has reached a higher degree of
development, is completely to mistake the connection which exists
between the various conditions of our mind and the objects over which
this authority extends. The true idea of God, the origin, the end, and
the rule of human conduct, together with all the means with which God
has furnished us to attain to our high destiny, such are the subjects
with which faith deals, and with respect to which Catholics contend
that it is necessary to have an infallible rule. They maintain that
without this it would be impossible to avoid the most lamentable
errors, and to protect truth from the effects of human passions.
This consideration will suffice to show, that private judgment would
be much less dangerous among nations still less advanced in the career
of civilization. There is, indeed, in a young nation, a great fund of
natural candor and simplicity, which admirably disposes it to receive
with docility the instructions contained in the sacred volume. Such
a people will relish those things which are easily to be understood,
and will bow with humility before the sublime obscurity of those pages
which it has pleased God to cover with a veil of mystery. Moreover, the
condition of this people, as yet exempt from the pride of knowledge,
would create a sort of authority, since there would be found within its
bosom only a small number of men able to examine divine revelation; and
thus a centre for the distribution of instruction would be naturally
formed.
But it is far otherwise with a nation far advanced in the career of
knowledge. With the latter, the extension of knowledge to a greater
number of individuals, by augmenting pride and fickleness, multiplies
sects, and ends by revolutionizing ideas and corrupting the purest
traditions. A young nation is devoted to simple occupations; it remains
attached to its ancient customs; it listens with respect and docility
to the aged, who, surrounded by their children and grand-children,
relate with emotion the histories and the maxims which they have
received from their ancestors. But when society has reached a great
degree of development, when respect for the fathers of families and
veneration for gray hairs have become weakened; when pompous titles,
scientific display, and grand libraries make men conceive a high idea
of their intellectual powers; when the multitude and activity of
communications widely diffuse those ideas, which, when put in motion,
have an almost magical power of affecting men's minds, then it is
necessary,--it is indispensable to have an authority, always living,
always ready to act whenever it is wanted,--to cover with a protecting
ægis the sacred deposit of truths which are the same in all times and
places; truths without the knowledge of which man would be left to the
mercy of his own errors and caprices from the cradle to the grave;
truths on which society rests as its surest foundation; truths which
cannot be destroyed without shaking to pieces the whole social edifice.
The literary and political history of Europe for the last three
hundred years affords but too many proofs of this. Religious revolution
broke out at the moment when it was capable of doing the most harm: it
found society agitated by all the activity of the human mind, and it
destroyed the control when it was most necessary.
Undoubtedly, it is necessary to guard against depreciating the mind of
man by charging it with faults which it has not, or by exaggerating
those which it has; but it is no less improper to puff it up by
exalting its strength too much. The latter would be injurious to it
in several ways, and would be little likely to advance its progress;
it would also, if properly understood, be little conformable to that
gravity and discretion which ought to distinguish true science. Indeed,
to merit the name, science ought to show the folly of being vain of
what does not rightly belong to it; it ought to know its limits, and
have sufficient candor and generosity to acknowledge its weakness.
There is a fact in the history of science, which, by revealing the
intrinsic weakness of the mind, palpably shows the flattery of those
unmeasured eulogies which are sometimes lavished on it, and also
demonstrates to us how dangerous it would be to abandon it to itself
without any guide. This fact is, the obscurity which increases in
proportion as we approach the first principles of science; so that
even in those sciences the truth, evidence, and exactness of which are
considered the best established, it seems that no firm ground is to be
obtained when we attempt to go to the bottom of them; and the mind, not
finding any security, recoils in the fear of meeting with something to
throw doubt and uncertainty on the truths of which it was convinced.
I do not participate in the ill-humor of Hobbes against the
mathematics. Devoted to their progress, and deeply convinced as I am of
the advantages which their study confers on the other sciences and on
society, I shall not attempt to underrate their merit, or deny any of
their great claims; but who can say that they are an exception to the
general rule? Have they not their weak points and their darksome paths?
It is true that, when we confine ourselves to the explanation of the
first principles of these sciences, and the deduction from them of the
most elementary propositions, the mind is on firm ground, where no
fear of making a false step occurs to it. I put aside at present the
obscurity which would be found in ideology and metaphysics, if they
were to discuss certain points according to the writings of the most
distinguished philosophers. Let us confine ourselves to the circle to
which the mathematics are naturally confined. Who that has studied
them is ignorant that you may reach a point in their theories, where
the mind finds nothing but obscurity? The demonstration is before
our eyes; it has been developed in all its parts; and yet the mind
wavers, feeling within itself a kind of uncertainty which it cannot
well describe. It sometimes happens that, after reasoning a long time,
the truth rushes upon us like the light of day; but it is not until we
have walked in darkness for a long period. When we fix our attention
upon those thoughts which wander in our minds like moving lights, on
those almost imperceptible emotions which, on these occasions, arise,
and then die away in the soul, we observe that the mind, in the midst
of its fluctuations, seeks instinctively for the anchor which is to be
found in the authority of another. To reassure ourselves completely, we
then invoke the authority of some great mathematicians, and we rejoice
that the fact is placed beyond a doubt by the series of great men who
have always viewed it in the same light. But perhaps our ignorance and
pride will not admit the truth of these reflections. Let us, then,
study these sciences, or at least read their history, and we shall
be convinced that they afford numerous proofs of the weakness of the
intellect.
Did not the extraordinary invention of Newton and Leibnitz find many
opponents in Europe? Were there not required to establish it, both the
sanction of time and the touchstone of experience, which made manifest
the truth of their principles and the exactness of their reasonings?
Do you believe that, if this invention were again, for the first time,
to make its appearance in the field of science, even fortified with
all the proofs which have been brought forward to strengthen it, and
surrounded with all the light which so many explanations have shed upon
it,--do you believe, I say, that it would not need a second time the
right of prescription, to regain its tranquil and undisturbed empire?
It is easy to suppose that the other sciences have no little share in
this uncertainty arising from the weakness of the human mind; as I do
not imagine that this assertion will be called in question, I pass on
to a few remarks on the peculiar character of the moral sciences.
The fact has not been sufficiently attended to, that there is no study
more deceptive than that of the moral sciences; I say deceptive,
because this study, seducing the mind by an appearance of facility,
draws it into difficulties which it is no easy matter to overcome. It
may be compared to those tranquil waters which, although apparently
but shallow, are in reality unfathomably deep. Familiarized from our
infancy with the language of this science, surrounded by its continual
applications, and having before our eyes its truths under a palpable
form, we possess a certain facility of speaking readily on many parts
of the subject; and we have the rashness to suppose that it would not
be difficult to master its highest principles and its most delicate
relations. But wonderful as it is, scarcely have we quitted the path
of common sense, and attempted to go beyond those simple impressions
which we have received from our mothers, when we find ourselves in a
labyrinth of confusion. If the mind gives itself up to subtilties, it
ceases to listen to the voice of the heart, which speaks to it with
equal simplicity and eloquence; if it does not repress its pride,
and attend to the wise counsels of good sense, it will be guilty
of despising those salutary and necessary truths, which have been
preserved by society to be transmitted from generation to generation:
it is then, while groping its way in the dark, that it falls into the
wildest extravagances, the lamentable effects of which are so often
exemplified in the history of the sciences.
If we observe attentively, we shall find something of the same kind
in all the sciences. The Creator has taken care to supply us with
knowledge necessary for the purposes of life, and for the attainment
of our destiny; but it has not pleased Him to gratify our curiosity by
discovering to us what was not necessary. Nevertheless, in some things
He has communicated to the mind a power which renders it capable of
constantly adding to its knowledge; but, with respect to moral truths,
it has been left sterile. What man is required to know, has been deeply
engraven on his heart, in characters simple and intelligible; or is
contained in the sacred volume; and moreover, he has had pointed out
to him, in the authority of the Church, a fixed rule, to which he can
apply to have his doubts explained. With respect to the rest, man
has been placed in such a position, that if he attempt to enter into
matters which are too subtle, he only wanders backwards and forwards
in the same road, at the extremities of which he finds on the one side
skepticism, on the other pure truth.
Perhaps some modern ideologists will urge, in opposition to this,
the result of their own analytical labours. "Before men began to
analyze facts," they will say, "and while they indulged in fanciful
systems, and satisfied themselves with verbal disputes without critical
examination, all this might be true; but now that we have explained
all the ideas of moral good and evil, in so perfect a way, and have
separated the prejudice in them from the true philosophy; now that
the whole system of morality is based upon the simple principles of
pleasure and pain, and we have given the clearest ideas of these
things, such, for example, as the sensations produced in us by an
orange; to maintain your assertion, is to be ungrateful towards
science, and to underrate the fruit of our labours."
I am aware of the labours of some moral ideologists, and I know with
what deceptive simplicity they develop their theories, by giving to
the most difficult things an easy turn, which affects to make them
intelligible to the most limited minds. This is not the place to
examine these analytical investigations, and their results. I shall,
however, remark that, in spite of their promised simplicity, it
does not appear that either society or science makes much progress
through their means, and that these opinions, although but a short
time broached, are already superannuated. This is not a matter of
astonishment to us; for it was easy to perceive that, in spite of
their positiveness, if I may be allowed to use the expression, these
ideologists are as hypothetical as many of their predecessors, who
are loaded by them with sarcasms and contempt. They are a poor,
narrow-minded school, devoid of the truth, and not even adorned by the
brilliant dreams of great men; a proud and deluded school, who fancy
they explain a fact, when they only obscure it; and prove a thing, when
they only assert it; and imagine that they analyze the human heart,
when they take it to pieces.
If such is the human mind; if such is its inability in matters of
science, whether physical or moral, that it has not advanced a single
step beyond the limit prescribed by a beneficent Providence; what
service has Protestantism rendered to modern society, by impairing the
force of authority, that power which could alone present an effectual
barrier to man's unhappy wanderings?[9]
CHAPTER VII.
INDIFFERENCE AND FANATICISM.
In rejecting the authority of the Church, and in adopting this
resistance as its only principle, Protestantism was compelled to seek
its whole support in man; thus to mistake the true character of the
human mind, and its relations with religious and moral truth, was to
throw itself, according to circumstances, into the opposite extremes of
fanaticism and indifference.
It may seem strange that these opposite errors should emanate from
the same source; and yet nothing is more certain. Protestantism, by
appealing to man alone in religious matters, had only two courses to
adopt; either to suppose men to be inspired by Heaven for the discovery
of truth, or to subject all religious truths to the examination of
reason. To submit religious truths to the judgment of reason was
sooner or later to produce indifference; on the other hand, private
inspiration must engender fanaticism.
There is a universal and constant fact in the history of the human
mind--viz. its decided inclination to invent systems in which the
reality of things is completely laid aside, and where we only see
the workings of a spirit which has chosen to quit the ordinary path
in order to give itself up to its own inspirations. The history
of philosophy is little else than a perpetual repetition of this
phenomenon, which the human mind shows, in some shape or other, in all
things which admit of it. When the mind has conceived a peculiar idea,
it regards it with that blind and exclusive predilection which is found
in the love of the father for his children. Under the influence of this
prejudice, the mind developes its ideas and accommodates facts to suit
it; that which at first was only an ingenious and extravagant idea,
becomes the germ of important doctrines; and if it arise in a person of
an ardent disposition, fanaticism, the cause of so much madness, is the
consequence.
The danger is very much increased when the new system applies to
religious matters, or is immediately connected with them. The
extravagances of a diseased mind are then looked upon as inspirations
from Heaven; the fever of delirium as a divine flame; and a mania of
being singular as an extraordinary vocation. Pride, unable to brook
opposition, rises against all that it finds established; it insults
all authority; it attacks all institutions; it despises everybody; it
conceals the grossest violence under the mantle of zeal, and ambition
under the name of apostleship. The dupe of himself rather than an
impostor, the wretched maniac sometimes becomes deeply persuaded that
his doctrines are true, and that he has received the commands of
Heaven. As there is something extraordinary and striking in the fiery
language of the madman, he communicates to those who listen to him a
portion of his insanity, and makes, in a short time, a considerable
number of proselytes. The men capable of playing the first part in
this scene of madness are not numerous, it is true; but unhappily the
majority of men are foolish enough to be easily led away. History and
experience sufficiently prove that the crowd are easily attracted, and
that to form a party, however criminal, extravagant, or ridiculous, it
is only necessary to raise a standard.
I wish to take this opportunity of making an observation which I have
never seen pointed out--viz. that the Church, in her contest with
heresy, has rendered an important service to the science which devotes
itself to the examination of the true character, tendency, and power
of the human mind. The zealous guardian of all great truths, she has
always known how to preserve them unimpaired; she was fully acquainted
with the weakness of the mind of man, and its extreme proneness to
folly and extravagance; she has followed it closely in all its steps,
has watched it in all its movements, and has constantly resisted it
with energy, when it attempted to pollute the pure fountain of which
she is the guardian. During the long and violent contests which she
has had with it, the Church has made manifest its incurable folly; she
has exhibited it on every side, and has shown it in all its forms.
Thus it is that, in the history of heresies, she has made an abundant
collection of facts, and has painted an extremely interesting picture
of the human mind, where its characteristic physiognomy is faithfully
represented; a picture which will doubtless be of great service in the
composition of the important work which is yet unwritten--viz. the true
history of the human mind.[10]
Certain it is that the ravings and extravagances of fanaticism have not
been wanting in the history of Europe for the last three hundred years.
Their monuments still remain; in whatever direction we turn our steps,
we find bloody traces of the fanatical sects produced by Protestantism,
and engendered by its fundamental principle. Nothing could confine this
devastating torrent, neither the violent character of Luther, nor the
furious efforts which he made to oppose every one who taught doctrines
different from his own. Impiety succeeded impiety, extravagance
extravagance, fanaticism fanaticism. The pretended Reformation was soon
divided into as many sects as there were found men with the ingenuity
to invent and the boldness to maintain a system of their own. This was
necessarily the case; for besides the danger of leaving the human mind
without a guide on all questions of religion, there was another cause
fruitful in fatal results, I mean the private interpretation of the
sacred books.
It was then found that the best things may be abused, and that these
divine volumes, which contain so much instruction for the mind, and so
much consolation for the heart, are full of danger to the proud. How
great will this be, if you add to the obstinate resolution of resisting
all authority in matters of faith, the false persuasion that the
meaning of the Scriptures is everywhere clear, and that, in all cases,
the inspirations of Heaven may be expected to solve every doubt? What
will happen to those who turn over their pages with a longing desire
to find some text which, more or less tortured, may seem to authorize
their sophisms, subtilties, and absurdities?
There never was a greater mistake than that which was committed by the
Protestant leaders, when they placed the Bible in the hands of all
for self-interpretation; never was the nature of that sacred volume
more completely lost sight of. It is true that Protestantism had no
other method to pursue, and that every objection which it could make
to the private interpretation of the sacred text would be a striking
inconsistency, an apostasy from its own principles, and a denial
of its own origin; but at the same time, this is its most decided
condemnation. What claim, indeed, can that religion have to truth and
sanctity whose fundamental principle contains the germ of sects the
most fanatical--the most injurious to society?
It would be difficult to collect into so narrow a space, in opposition
to this essential error of Protestantism, so many facts and convincing
proofs of this, as are contained in the following lines, written by
a Protestant, O'Callaghan, which, I have no doubt, my readers will
thank me for quoting here. "Led away," says O'Callaghan, "by their
spirit of opposition to the Church of Rome, the first Reformers
loudly proclaimed the right of interpreting the Scriptures according
to each one's private judgment; but in their eagerness to emancipate
the people from the authority of the Pope, they proclaimed this right
without explanation or restriction: and the consequences were fearful.
Impatient to undermine the papal jurisdiction, they maintained without
exception, that each individual has an incontestable right to interpret
the Scriptures for himself; and as this principle, carried to the
fullest extent, was not sustainable, they were obliged to rely for
support upon another, viz. that the Bible is an easy book, within the
comprehension of all minds, and that the divine revelations contained
in it are always clear to all; two propositions which, whether we
consider them together or apart, cannot withstand a serious attack.
"The private judgment of Muncer found in the Scriptures that titles
of nobility and great estates are impious usurpations, contrary to
the natural equality of the faithful, and he invited his followers
to examine if this were not the case. They examined into the matter,
praised God, and then proceeded by fire and sword to extirpate the
impious and possess themselves of their properties. Private judgment
made the discovery in the Bible that established laws were a permanent
restriction on Christian liberty; and, behold, John of Leyden, throwing
away his tools, put himself at the head of a mob of fanatics, surprised
the town of Munster, proclaimed himself king of Sion, and took fourteen
wives at a time, asserting that polygamy is Christian liberty, and the
privilege of the saints. But if the criminal madness of these men in
another country is afflicting to the friends of humanity and of real
piety, certainly the history of England, during a great part of the
seventeenth century, is not calculated to console them. During that
period an immense number of fanatics appeared, sometimes together
and sometimes in succession, intoxicated with extravagant doctrines
and mischievous passions, from the fierce ravings of Fox to the more
methodical madness of Barclay; from the formidable fanaticism of
Cromwell to the silly profanity of 'Praise God Barebones.' Piety,
reason, and good sense seemed to be extinct on earth, and to be
succeeded by an extravagant jargon, a religious frenzy, and a zeal
without discretion. All quoted the Scriptures, all pretended to have
had inspirations, visions, and spiritual ecstasies, and all, indeed,
had equal claims to them. It was strongly maintained that it was proper
to abolish the priesthood and the royal dignity, because priests
were the ministers of Satan, and kings the delegates of the whore
of Babylon, and that the existence of both were inconsistent with
the reign of the Redeemer. The fanatics condemned science as a Pagan
invention, and universities as seminaries of antichristian impiety.
Bishops were not protected by the sanctity of their functions, or kings
by the majesty of the throne; both, as objects of contempt and hatred,
were mercilessly put to death by these fanatics, whose only book was
the Bible, without note or comment. During this time, the enthusiasm
for prayer, preaching, and the reading of the sacred books was at
the highest point; everybody prayed, preached, and read, but nobody
listened. The greatest atrocities were justified by the Scriptures; in
the most ordinary transactions of life, scriptural language was made
use of; national affairs, foreign and domestic, were discussed in the
phraseology of Holy Writ. There were scriptural plots, conspiracies,
and proscriptions; and all this was not only justified but even
sanctified by quotations from the word of God. These facts, attested
by history, have often astonished and alarmed men of virtue and piety,
_but the reader, too much imbued with his own ideas, forgets the lesson
to be learnt by this fatal experience; namely, that the Bible without
note or comment was not intended to be read by rude and ignorant men_.
"The majority of mankind must be content to receive the instructions
of others, and are not enabled to trust themselves. The most important
truths in medicine, in jurisprudence, in physics, in mathematics, must
be received from those who drink at the fountain head. The same plan
has in general been pursued with respect to Christianity; and whenever
the departure from it has been wide enough, '_society has been shaken
to its foundation_.'"
These words of O'Callaghan do not require any comment. It cannot be
said that they are hyperbolical or declamatory, as they are only a
simple and faithful narration of acknowledged facts. The recollection
of these events should suffice to prove the danger of placing the
sacred Scriptures, without note or comment, into the hands of all,
as Protestantism does, under the pretence, that the authority of the
Church is useless for understanding the holy books; and that every
Christian has only to listen to the dictates which generally emanate
from his passions and heated imagination. By this error alone, if it
had committed no other, Protestantism is self-reproved and condemned;
for it is a religion which has established a principle destructive to
itself. In order to appreciate the madness of Protestantism on this
point, and to see how false and dangerous is the position which it
has assumed with regard to the human mind, it is not necessary to be
a theologian, or a Catholic; it is enough to have read the Scriptures
with the eyes of a philosopher or a man of literature. Here is a
book which comprises, within a limited compass, the period of four
thousand years, and advances further towards the most distant future,
by embracing the origin and destiny of man and the universe--a book
which, with the continued history of a chosen people, intermingles, in
its narrations and prophecies, the revolutions of mighty empires--a
book which, side by side with the magnificent pictures of the power and
splendor of Eastern monarchs, describes, in simple colors, the plain
domestic manners, the candor, and innocence of a young nation--a book
in which historians relate, sages proclaim their maxims of wisdom,
apostles preach, and doctors instruct--a book in which prophets,
under the influence of the divine Spirit, thunder against the errors
and corruptions of the people, and announce the vengeance of the God
of Sinai, or pour forth inconsolable lamentations on the captivity
of their brethren, and the desolation and solitude of their country;
where they relate, in wonderful and sublime language, the magnificent
spectacles which are presented to their eyes; where, in moments of
ecstasy, they see pass before them the events of society and the
catastrophes of nature, although veiled in mysterious figures and
visions of obscurity--a book, or rather a collection of books, where
are to be found all sorts of styles and all varieties of narrative,
epic majesty, pastoral simplicity, lyric fire, serious instruction,
grave historical narrative, and lively and rapid dramatic action; a
collection of books, in fine, written at various times and in various
languages, in various countries, and under the most peculiar and
extraordinary circumstances. Must not all this confuse the heads of
men who, puffed up with their own conceit, grope through these pages
in the dark, ignorant of climates, times, laws, customs, and manners?
They will be puzzled by allusions, surprised by images, deceived by
expressions; they will hear the Greek and Hebrew, which was written in
those remote ages, now spoken in a modern idiom. What effects must all
these circumstances produce on the minds of readers who believe that
the Bible is an easy book, to be understood without difficulty by all?
Persuaded that they do not require the instructions of others, they
must either resolve all these difficulties by their own reflections,
or trust to that individual inspiration which they believe will not be
wanting to explain to them the loftiest mysteries. Who, after this,
can be astonished that Protestantism has produced so many absurd
visionaries and furious fanatics?[11]
CHAPTER VIII.
FANATICISM--ITS DEFINITION.--FANATICISM IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.
It would be unjust to charge a religion with falsehood, merely because
fanatics are to be found within its bosom. This would be to reject
all, because none are to be found exempt from them. A religion, then,
is not to be condemned because it has them, but because it produces
them, urges them on, and opens a field for them. If we observe closely,
we shall find at the bottom of the human heart an abundant source
of fanaticism; the history of man affords us many proofs of this
incontestable truth. Imagine whatever delusion you please, relate the
most extravagant visions, invent the most absurd system, if you only
take care to give to all a religious coloring, you may be sure that you
will have enthusiastic followers, who will heartily devote themselves
to the propagation of your doctrines, and will espouse your cause
blindly and ardently; in other words, you will have under your standard
a troop of fanatics.
Philosophers have devoted many pages to declamation against fanaticism;
they have, as it were, assumed the mission of banishing it from the
earth. They have tired mankind with philosophical lectures, and have
thundered against the monster with all the vigor of their eloquence.
They used the word, however, in so wide a sense as to include all kind
of religion. But, if they had confined themselves to attacking real
fanaticism, I believe they would have done much better if they had
devoted some time to the examination of this matter in an analytic
spirit, and had treated it, after so doing, maturely, calmly, and
without prejudice.
Inasmuch as these philosophers were aware that fanaticism is a natural
infirmity of the human mind, they could, if they were men of sense and
wisdom, have had little hope of banishing the accursed monster from
the world by reasoning and eloquence; for I am not aware that, up to
the present time, philosophy has remedied any of the important evils
that afflict humanity. Among the numerous errors of the philosophy of
the eighteenth century, one of the principal was the mania for types;
there was formed in the mind a type of the nature of man, of society,
in a word, of every thing; and every thing that could not be adjusted
to this type, every thing that could not be moulded into the required
form, was so subjected to the fury of philosophers, as to make it
certain, at least, that the want of pliability did not go unpunished.
But do I mean to deny the existence of fanaticism in the world? There
is much of it. Do I deny that it is an evil? It is a very great one.
Can it be extirpated? It cannot. How can its extent be diminished, its
force weakened, and its violence checked? By directing man wisely. Can
this be done by philosophy? We shall presently see. What is the origin
of fanaticism? We must begin by defining the real meaning of the word.
By fanaticism is meant, taking the word in its widest signification,
the strong excitement of a mind powerfully acted on by a false or
exaggerated opinion. If the opinion be true, if it be confined within
just limits, there is no fanaticism; or, if there _be_ any, it is only
with respect to the means employed in defending the opinion. But in
that case there is an erroneous judgment, since it is believed that
the truth of the opinion authorizes the means; that is to say, there
is already error or exaggeration. If a true opinion be sustained by
legitimate means, if the occasion be opportune, whatever may be the
excitement or effervescence of mind, whatever may be the energy of the
efforts and the sacrifices made, then there is enthusiasm of mind and
heroism of action, but no fanaticism. Were it otherwise, the heroes of
all times and countries might be stigmatized as fanatics.
Fanaticism, in this general sense, extends to all the subjects which
occupy the human mind; thus there are fanatics in religion, in
politics, even in science and literature. Nevertheless, according
to etymology and custom, the word is properly applied to religious
matters only; therefore the word, when used alone, means fanaticism
in religion, whilst, when applied to other things, it is always
accompanied by a qualifying epithet; thus we say political fanatics,
literary fanatics, &c.
There is no doubt that in religious matters men have a strong tendency
to give themselves to a dominant idea, which they desire to communicate
to all around them, and propagate everywhere. They sometimes go so far
as to attempt this by the most violent means. The same fact appears,
to a certain extent, in other matters; but it acquires in religious
things a character different from what it assumes elsewhere. It is
there that the human mind acquires increased force, frightful energy,
and unbounded expansion; there are no more difficulties, obstacles, or
fetters; material interests entirely disappear; the greatest sufferings
acquire a charm; torments are nothing; death itself is a seductive
illusion.
This phenomenon varies with individuals, with ideas, with the manners
of the nation in whose bosom it is produced; but at bottom it is always
the same. If we examine the matter thoroughly, we shall find that the
violences of the followers of Mahomet, and the extravagant disciples of
Fox, have a common origin.
It is with this passion as with all others; when they produce great
evils, it is because they deviate from their legitimate objects, or
because they strive at those objects by means which are not conformable
to the dictates of reason and prudence. Fanaticism, then, rightly
understood, is nothing but misguided religious feeling; a feeling which
man has within him from the cradle to the tomb, and which is found to
be diffused throughout society in all periods of its existence. Vain
have been the efforts made up to this time to render men irreligious;
a few individuals may give themselves up to the folly of complete
irreligion; but the human race always protests against those who
endeavor to stifle the sentiment of religion. Now this feeling is so
strong and active, it exercises so unbounded an influence on man,
that no sooner has it been diverted from its legitimate object, and
quitted the right path, than it is seen to produce lamentable results;
then it is that two causes, fertile in great disasters, are found in
combination, complete blindness of the understanding and irresistible
energy of the will.
In declaiming against fanaticism, many Protestants and philosophers
have thought proper to throw a large share of blame on the Catholic
Church; certainly they ought to have been more moderate in this respect
if their philosophy had been good. It is true the Church cannot boast
of having cured all the follies of man; she cannot pretend to have
banished fanaticism so completely as not to have some fanatics among
her children; but she may justly boast that no religion has taken more
effectual means of curing the evil. It may, moreover, be affirmed,
that she has taken her measures so well, that when it does make its
appearance, she confines it within such limits that it may exist for a
time, but cannot produce very dangerous results.
Its mental errors and delirious dreams, which, if encouraged, lead men
to the commission of the greatest extravagances and the most horrible
crimes, are kept under control when the mind possesses a salutary
conviction of its own weakness and a respect for infallible authority.
If they be not extinguished at their birth, at least they remain in a
state of isolation, they do not injure the deposit of true doctrine,
and the ties which unite all the faithful as members of the same body
are not broken. With respect to revelations, visions, prophecies, and
ecstasies, as long as they preserve a private character and do not
affect the truths of faith, the Church, generally speaking, tolerates
them and abstains from interference, leaving the discussion of the
facts to criticism, and allowing the faithful an entire liberty of
thinking as they please; but if the affair assumes a more important
aspect, if the visionary calls in question points of doctrine, she
immediately shows her vigilance. Attentive to every voice raised
against the instructions of her Divine Master, she fixes an observant
eye on the innovator. She examines whether he be a man deceived in
matters of doctrine or a wolf in sheep's clothing; she raises her
warning voice, she points out to all the faithful the error or the
danger, and the voice of the Shepherd recalls the wandering sheep; but
if he refuse to listen to her, and prefer to follow his own caprices,
she separates him from the flock, and declares him to resemble the
wolf. From that moment all those who are sincerely desirous of
continuing in the bosom of the Church, can no more be infected with the
error.
Undoubtedly, Protestants will reproach Catholics with the number of
visionaries who have existed in the Church; they will recall the
revelations and visions of a great number of saints who are venerated
on our altars; they will accuse us of fanaticism,--a fanaticism, they
will say, which, far from being limited in its effects to a narrow
circle, has been able to produce the most important results. "Do
not the founders of religious orders alone," they will say, "afford
us a spectacle of a long succession of fanatics, who, self-deluded,
exercised upon others, by their words and example, the greatest
fascination that was ever seen?"
As this is not the place to enlarge upon the subject of religious
communities, which I propose to do in another part of this work,
I shall content myself with the observation, that even supposing
that all the visions and revelations of our saints and the heavenly
inspirations with which the founders of religious orders believed
themselves to have been favored were delusions, our opponents would
not be in any way justified in throwing on the Church the reproach of
fanaticism. And, first, it is easy to see that, as far as individual
visions are concerned, as long as they are thus limited, there may
be delusion, or, if you will, fanaticism; but this fanaticism will
not be injurious to any one, or create confusion in society. If a
poor woman believe herself to be peculiarly favoured by Heaven, if
she fancy that she hears the words of the Blessed Virgin, that she
converses with angels who bring her messages from God, all this may
excite the credulity of some and the raillery of others, but certainly
it will not cost society a drop of blood or a tear. As to the founders
of religious orders, in what way are they subject to the charge of
fanaticism? Let us pass in silence the profound respect which their
virtues deserve, and the gratitude which humanity owes them for the
inestimable benefits conferred; let us suppose that they were deceived
in all their inspirations; we may certainly call this delusion, but
not fanaticism. We do not find in them either frenzy or violence;
they are men diffident in themselves, who, when they believe that
they are called by Heaven to a great design, never commence the work
without having prostrated themselves at the feet of the Sovereign
Pontiff; they submit to his judgment the rules for the establishment
of their orders, they ask his instruction, listen to his decision with
docility, and do nothing without having obtained his permission. How,
then, do these founders of orders resemble the fanatics, who, putting
themselves at the head of a furious multitude, kill, destroy, and leave
everywhere behind them traces of blood and ruin? We see in the founders
of religious orders men who, deeply impressed with an idea, devote
themselves to realize it, however great may be the sacrifice. Their
conduct constantly shows a fixed idea, which is developed according to
a preconcerted plan, and is always highly social and religious in its
object: above all, this is submitted to authority, maturely examined
and corrected by the counsels of prudence. An impartial philosopher,
whatever may be his religious opinions, may find in all this more or
less illusion and prejudice, or prudence and address; but he cannot
find fanaticism, for there is nothing there which resembles it.[12]
CHAPTER IX.
INFIDELITY AND INDIFFERENCE IN EUROPE, THE FRUITS OF PROTESTANTISM.
The fanaticism of sects, which is excited, kept alive, and nourished in
Europe, by the private judgment of Protestantism, is certainly an evil
of the greatest magnitude; yet it is not so mischievous or alarming as
the infidelity and religious indifference for which modern society is
indebted to the pretended Reformation. Brought on by the scandalous
extravagances of so many sects of _soi-disant_ Christians, infidelity
and religious indifference, which have their root even in the very
principle of Protestantism, began to show themselves with alarming
symptoms in the sixteenth century; they have acquired with time great
diffusion, they have penetrated all the branches of science and
literature, have produced an effect on languages, and have endangered
all the conquests which civilization had gained during so many ages.
Even during the sixteenth century, and amid the hot disputes and
religious wars which Protestantism had enkindled, infidelity spread in
an alarming manner; and it is probable that it was even more common
than it appeared to be, as it was not easy to throw off the mask at
a period so near to the time when religious convictions had been
so deeply rooted. It is very likely that infidelity was propagated
disguised under the mantle of the Reformation, and that sometimes
enlisting under the banner of one sect and sometimes of another, it
labored to weaken them all, in order to set up its own throne on the
general ruin of faith.
It does not require a great effort of logic to pass from Protestantism
to Deism; from Deism to Atheism, there is but a step; and there must
have been, at the time when these errors were broached, a large number
of persons with reasoning powers enough to carry them out to the
fullest extent. The Christian religion, as explained by Protestants,
is only a kind of philosophic system more or less reasonable; as,
when fully examined, it has no divine character. How, then, can it
govern a reflecting and independent mind? Yes, one glance at the first
exhibitions of Protestantism must have been enough to incline all those
to religious indifference who, naturally disinclined to fanaticism,
had lost the anchor of the Church's authority. When we consider the
language and conduct of the sectarian leaders of that time, we are
strongly inclined to suspect that they laughed at all Christian faith;
that they concealed their indifference or their Atheism under strange
doctrines which served as a standard, and that they propagated their
writings with very bad faith, while they disguised their perfidious
intention of preserving in the minds of their partisans sectarian
fanaticism.
Thus, listening to the dictates of good sense, the father of the
famous Montaigne, although he had seen as yet only the preludes of
the Reformation, said, "that this beginning of evil would easily
degenerate into execrable Atheism." A very remarkable testimony,
which has been preserved to us by his son himself, who was certainly
neither weak nor hypocritical. (_Essais de Montaigne_, liv. ii. chap.
12.) When this man pronounced so wise a judgment on the real tendency
of Protestantism, did he imagine that his own son would confirm the
justness of his prediction? Everybody knows that Montaigne was one of
the first skeptics that became famous in Europe. It was requisite, at
that time, for men to be cautious in declaring themselves Atheists or
indifferentists, among Protestants themselves; and it may readily be
imagined that all unbelievers had not the boldness of Gruet; yet we may
believe the celebrated theologian of Toledo, Chacon, who said at the
beginning of the last third of the sixteenth century, "that the heresy
of the Atheists, of those who believed nothing, had great strength in
France and in other countries."
Religious controversy continued to occupy the attention of all the
savants of Europe, and during this time the gangrene of infidelity made
great progress. This evil, from the middle of the seventeenth century,
assumed a most alarming aspect. Who is not dismayed at reading the
profound thoughts of Pascal on religious indifference? and who has not
felt, in reading them, the emotion which is caused in the soul by the
presence of a dreadful evil?
Things were now much advanced, and unbelievers were not far from being
in a position, to take their rank among the schools who disputed for
the upper hand in Europe. With more or less of disguise, they had
already for a long time shown themselves under the form of Socinianism;
but that did not suffice, for Socinianism bore at least the name of a
religious sect, and irreligion began to feel itself strong enough to
appear under its own name. The last part of the seventeenth century
presents a crisis which is very remarkable with respect to religion;--a
crisis which perhaps has not been well examined, although it exhibits
some very remarkable facts; I allude to a lassitude of religious
disputes, marked by two tendencies diametrically opposed to each other,
and yet very natural: one towards Catholicity and the other towards
Atheism.
Every one knows how much disputing there had been up to this time
on religion; religious controversies were the prevailing taste, and
it may be said that they formed the principal occupation not only
of ecclesiastics, both Catholic and Protestant, but even of the
well-educated laity. This taste penetrated the palaces of kings and
princes. The natural result of so many controversies was to disclose
the radical error of Protestantism: then the mind, which could not
remain firm on such slippery ground, was obliged, either to adopt
authority, or abandon itself to Atheism or complete indifference. These
tendencies made themselves very perceptibly felt; thus it was that at
the very time when Bayle thought Europe sufficiently prepared for his
infidelity and skepticism, there was going on an animated and serious
correspondence for the reunion of the German Protestants with the
Catholic Church. Men of education are acquainted with the discussions
which took place between the Lutheran Molanus, abbot of Lockum, and
Christopher, at first Bishop of Tyna, and afterwards of Newstad. The
correspondence between the two most remarkable men at that time in
Europe of both communions, Bossuet and Leibnitz, is another monument
of the importance of these negotiations. The happy moment was not yet
come; political considerations, which ought to have vanished in the
presence of such lofty interests, exercised a mischievous influence
on the great soul of Leibnitz, and he did not preserve, throughout
the progress of the discussions and negotiations, the sincerity, good
faith, and elevation of view, which he had evinced at the commencement.
The negotiation did not succeed, but the mere fact of its existence
shows clearly enough the void which was felt in Protestantism; for we
cannot believe that the two most celebrated men of that communion,
Molanus and Leibnitz, would have advanced so far in so important a
negotiation, unless they had observed among themselves many indications
of a disposition to return to the bosom of the Church. Add to this,
the declaration of the Lutheran university of Helmstad in favor of
the Catholic religion, and the fresh attempts at a reunion made by a
Protestant prince, who addressed himself to Pope Clement XI., and you
have strong reasons for believing that the Reformation felt itself
mortally wounded. If God had been willing to permit that so great a
result should appear to have been effected in any way by human means,
the deep convictions prevalent among the most distinguished Protestants
might perhaps have greatly contributed to heal the wounds which had
been inflicted upon religious unity by the revolutionists of the
sixteenth century.
But the profound wisdom of God had decided otherwise. In allowing men
to pursue their own opposite and perverse inclinations, He was pleased
to chastise them by means of their own pride. The tendency towards
unity was no longer dominant in the next century, but gave place to a
philosophic skepticism, indifferent towards all other religions, but
the deadly enemy of the Catholic. It may be said that at that time
there was a combination of the most fatal influences to hinder the
tendency towards unity from attaining its object. Already were the
Protestant sects divided and subdivided into numberless parties, and
although Protestantism was thereby weakened, yet, nevertheless, it
was diffused over the greater part of Europe; the germ of doubt in
religious matters had inoculated the whole of European society. There
was no truth which had escaped attack; no error or extravagance which
had not had apostles and proselytes; and it was much to be feared that
men would fall into that state of fatigue and discouragement which is
the result of great efforts made without success, and into that disgust
which is always produced by endless disputes and great scandals.
To complete the misfortune, and to bring to a climax the state of
lassitude and disgust, there was another evil, which produced the
most fatal results. The champions of Catholicity contended, with
boldness and success, against the religious innovations of Protestants.
Languages, history, criticism, philosophy, all that is most precious,
rich, and brilliant in human knowledge, had been employed in the
noblest way in this important struggle; and the great men who were
most prominent among the defenders of the Church seemed to console
her for the sad losses which she had sustained by the troubles of
another age. But while she embraced in her arms these zealous sons,
those who boasted the most of being called her children, she observed
in some of them, with surprise and dread, an attitude of disguised
hostility; and in their thinly veiled language and conduct she could
easily perceive that they meditated giving her a fatal blow. Always
asserting their submission and their obedience, but never submitting or
obeying; continually extolling the authority and divine origin of the
Church, and carefully concealing their hatred of her existing laws and
institutions under cover of professed zeal for the re-establishment of
ancient discipline; they sapped the foundations of morality, while they
claimed to be its earnest advocates; they disguised their hypocrisy and
pride under false humility and affected modesty; they called obstinacy
firmness, and wilful blindness strength of mind. This rebellion
presented an aspect more dangerous than any heresy; their honeyed
words, studied candor, respect for antiquity, and the show of learning
and knowledge, would have contributed to blind the best informed, if
the innovators had not been distinguished by the constant and unfailing
characteristic of all erroneous sects, viz. hatred of authority.
They were seen from time to time struggling against the declared
enemies of the Church, defending, with great display of learning,
the truth of her sacred dogmas, citing, with respect and deference,
the writings of the holy fathers, and declaring that they adhered
to tradition, and had a profound veneration for the decisions of
councils and Popes. They particularly prided themselves on being called
Catholics, however much their language and conduct were inconsistent
with the name. Never did they get rid of the marvellous infatuation
with which they denied their existence as a sect; and thus did they
throw in the way of ill-informed persons the unhappy scandal of a
dogmatical dispute, going on apparently within the bosom of the Church
herself. The Pope declared them heretics; all true Catholics bowed to
the decision of the Vicar of Jesus Christ; from all parts of the world
a voice was unanimously raised to pronounce anathema against all who
did not listen to the successor of St. Peter; but they themselves,
denying and eluding all, persisted in considering themselves as a body
of Catholics oppressed by the spirit of relaxation, abuse, and intrigue.
This scandal gave the finishing stroke to the leading of men astray,
and the fatal gangrene which was infecting European society soon
developed itself with frightful rapidity. The religious disputes,
the multitude and variety of sects, the animosity which they showed
against each other, all contributed to disgust with religion itself
whoever were not held fast by the anchor of authority. To establish
indifference as a system, atheism as a creed, and impiety as a fashion,
there was only wanting a man laborious enough to collect, unite, and
present in a body all the numerous materials which were scattered
in a multitude of works; a man who knew how to give to all this a
philosophical complexion suitable to the prevailing taste, and who
could give to sophistry and declamation that seductive appearance,
that deceptive form and dazzling show, by which the productions of
genius are always marked, in the midst even of their wildest vagaries.
Such a man appeared in the person of Bayle. The noise which his famous
dictionary made in the world, and the favor which it enjoyed from
the beginning, show how well the author had taken advantage of his
opportunity. The dictionary of Bayle is one of those books which,
considered apart from their scientific and literary merit, always serve
to denote a remarkable epoch, because they present, together with the
fruits of the past, the clear perception of a long future. The author
of such a work is not distinguished so much on account of his own
merit, as because he has known how to become the representative of
ideas previously diffused in society, but floating about in a state of
uncertainty; and yet his name recalls a vast history, of which he is
the personification. The publication of Bayle's work may be regarded
as the solemn inauguration of the chair of infidelity in Europe. The
sophists of the eighteenth century found at hand an abundant repository
of facts and arguments; but to render the thing complete, there was
wanting a hand capable of retouching the old paintings, of restoring
their faded colors, and of shedding over all the charms of imagination
and the refinement of wit; there was wanting a guide to lead mankind
by a flowery path to the borders of the abyss. Scarcely had Bayle
descended into the tomb, when there appeared above the literary horizon
a young man, whose great talents were equalled by his malice and
audacity; Voltaire.
It was necessary to draw the reader's attention to the period which
I have just described, to show him how great was the influence
exercised by Protestantism in producing and establishing in Europe the
irreligion, atheism, and fatal indifference which have caused so many
evils in modern society. I do not mean to charge all Protestants with
impiety; and I willingly acknowledge the sincerity and firmness of
many of their most illustrious men, in struggling against the progress
of irreligion. I am not ignorant that men sometimes adopt a principle
and repudiate its consequences, and that it would, therefore, be very
unjust to class them with those who openly accept those consequences;
but on the other hand, however painful it may be to Protestants to avow
that their system leads to atheism, it is nevertheless a fact which
cannot be denied. All that they can claim of me on this point is, not
to criminate their intentions; after that, they cannot complain if,
guided by the instructions of history and philosophy, I develop their
fundamental principle to the fullest extent.
It would be useless to sketch, even in the most rapid manner, what
has passed in Europe since the appearance of Voltaire: the events
are so recent, and have been so often discussed, that all that I
could say would be only a useless repetition. I shall better attain
my object by offering some remarks on the actual state of religion
in Protestant countries. Amid so many revolutions, and when so many
heads were turned; when all the foundations of society were shaken,
and the strongest institutions were torn out of the soil in which they
had been so deeply rooted; when even Catholic truth itself could not
have been sustained without the manifest aid of the arm of the Most
High, we may imagine the fate of the fragile edifice of Protestantism,
exposed, like all the rest, to so many and such violent attacks. No one
is ignorant of the numberless sects which abound in Great Britain, of
the deplorable condition of faith among the Swiss Protestants, even on
the most important points. That there might be no doubt as to the real
state of the Protestant religion in Germany, that is, in its native
country, where it was first established as in its dearest patrimony,
the Protestant minister, Baron Starck, has taken care to tell us, that
"_in Germany there is not one single point of Christian faith which
has not been openly attacked by the Protestant ministers themselves_."
The real state of Protestantism appears to me to be truly and forcibly
depicted by a curious idea of J. Heyer, a Protestant minister. Heyer
published, in 1818, a work entitled _Coup d'œil sur les Confessions
de Foi_; not knowing how to get out of the difficulty in which all
Protestants found themselves placed when they had to choose a symbol,
he proposed the simple expedient of _getting rid of all symbols_.
The only way that Protestantism has of preserving itself, is to violate
as much as possible its own fundamental principle, by withdrawing the
right of private judgment, inducing the people to remain faithful
to the opinions in which they have been educated, and carefully
concealing from them the inconsistency into which they fall, when
they submit to the authority of a private individual, after having
rejected the authority of the Catholic church. But things are not
taking this course; and in spite of the efforts of some Protestants
to follow it, Bible Societies, working with a zeal worthy of a better
cause, in promoting among all classes the private interpretation of
the Bible, would suffice to keep alive always the spirit of inquiry.
This diffusion of the Bible operates as a constant appeal to private
judgment, which, after perhaps causing many days of sorrow and mourning
to society, will eventually destroy the remains of Protestantism. All
this has not escaped the notice of its disciples; and some of the
most remarkable among them have raised their voices to point out the
danger.[13]
CHAPTER X.
CAUSES OF THE CONTINUANCE OF PROTESTANTISM.
After having clearly shown the intrinsic weakness of Protestantism,
it is natural to ask this question: If it be so feeble, owing to
the radical defects of its constitution, why has it not by this
time completely disappeared? If it bear in its own breast the seeds
of death, how has it been able so long to withstand such powerful
adversaries, as Catholicity, on the one hand, and irreligion
or Atheism, on the other? In order to resolve this question
satisfactorily, it is necessary to consider Protestantism in two points
of view; as embodying a fixed creed, and as expressing a number of
sects, who, in spite of their numerous mutual differences, agree in
calling themselves Christians, and preserve a shadow of Christianity,
although they reject the authority of the Church. It is necessary
to consider Protestantism in this double point of view, since its
founders, while endeavoring to destroy the authority and dogmas of the
Roman Church, were compelled to form a system of doctrines to serve as
a symbol for their followers. Considered in the first aspect, it has
almost entirely disappeared; we should rather say it scarcely ever had
existence. This truth is sufficiently evident from what I have said of
the variations and actual condition of Protestantism in the various
countries of Europe; time has shown how much the pretended Reformers
were deceived, when they fancied that they could fix the columns of
Hercules of the human mind, to repeat the expression of Madame de Staël.
Who now defends the doctrines of Luther and Calvin? Who respects the
limits which they prescribed? What Protestant Church distinguishes
itself by the ardor of its zeal in preserving any particular dogmas?
What Protestant now holds the divine mission of Luther, or believes the
Pope to be Antichrist? Who watches over the purity of doctrine, and
points out errors? Who opposes the torrent of sectarianism?
Do we find, in their writings, or in their discourses, the energetic
tones of conviction, or the zeal of truth? In fine, what a wide
difference do we find when we compare the Protestant Church with the
Catholic! Inquire into the faith of the latter, and you will hear from
the mouth of Gregory XVI., the successor of St. Peter, the same that
Luther heard from Leo X. Compare the doctrine of Leo X. with that of
his predecessors, you will always find it the same up to the Apostles,
and to Jesus Christ himself. If you attempt to assail a dogma, if you
try to attack the purity of morals, the voice of the ancient Fathers
will denounce your errors, and in the middle of the nineteenth century
you will imagine that the old Leos and Gregories are risen from the
tomb. If your intentions are good, you will find indulgence; if your
merits are great, you will be treated with respect; if you occupy an
elevated position in the world, you will have attention paid to you.
But if you attempt to abuse your talents by introducing novelty in
doctrine; if, by your power, you aspire to demand a modification of
faith; and if, to avoid troubles or prevent schism, or conciliate
any one, you ask for a compromise or even an ambiguous explanation;
the answer of the successor of St. Peter will be, "Never! faith is a
sacred deposit which we cannot alter; truth is immutable; it is one:"
and to this reply of the Vicar of Jesus Christ, which with a word will
banish all your hopes, will be added those of the modern Athanasiuses,
Gregories of Nazianzen, Ambroses, Jeromes, and Augustins. Always
the same firmness in the same faith, the same unchangeableness, the
same energy in preserving the sacred deposit intact, in defending it
against the attacks of error, in teaching it to the faithful in all
its purity, and in transmitting it unaltered to future generations.
Will it be said that this is obstinacy, blindness, and fanaticism?
But, eighteen centuries gone by, the revolutions of empires, the most
fearful catastrophes, an infinite variety of ideas and manners, the
most severe persecutions, the darkness of ignorance, the conflicts of
passion, the lights of knowledge,--none of these have been able to
enlighten this blindness, to bend this obstinacy, or extinguish this
fanaticism. Certainly a reflecting Protestant, one of those who know
how to rise above the prejudices of education, when fixing his eyes on
this picture, the truth of which he cannot but acknowledge, if he is
well informed on the question, will feel strong doubts arise within him
as to the truth of the instruction he has received; he will at least
feel a desire of examining more closely this great prodigy which the
Catholic Church presents to us. But to return.
We see the Protestant sects melting away daily, and this dissolution
must constantly increase; nevertheless, we have no reason to be
astonished that Protestantism, inasmuch as it consists of a number of
sects who preserve the name and some remains of Christianity, does
not wholly disappear; for how could it disappear? Either Protestant
nations must be completely swallowed up by irreligion or atheism, or
they must give up Christianity and adopt one of the religions which are
established in other parts of the world. Now both these suppositions
are impossible; therefore this false form of Christianity has been and
will be preserved, in some shape or other, until Protestants return to
the bosom of the Church.
Let us develop these ideas. Why cannot Protestant nations be completely
swallowed up by irreligion and atheism, or indifference? Because such
a misfortune may happen to an individual, but not to a nation. By
means of false books, erroneous reasonings, and continual efforts,
some individuals may extinguish the lively sentiments of their hearts,
stifle the voice of conscience, and trample under foot the dictates of
common sense; but a nation cannot do so. A people always preserves a
large fund of candor and docility, which, amid the most fatal errors
and even the most atrocious crimes, compels it to lend an attentive
ear to the inspirations of nature. Whatever may be the corruption of
morals, whatever may be the errors of opinion, there will never be
more than a small number of men found capable of struggling for a long
time against themselves, in the attempt to eradicate from their hearts
that fruitful germ of good feelings, that precious seed of virtuous
thoughts, with which the beneficent hand of the Creator has enriched
our souls. The conflagration of the passions, it is true, produces
lamentable prostration, and sometimes terrible explosions; but when
the fire is extinguished, man returns to himself, and his mind becomes
again accessible to the voice of reason and virtue. An attentive study
of society proves that the number of men is happily very small who
are, as it were, steeled against truth and virtue; who reply with
frivolous sophistry to the admonitions of good sense; who oppose with
cold stoicism the sweetest and most generous inspirations of nature,
and venture to display, as an illustration of philosophy, firmness,
and elevation of mind, the ignorance, obstinacy, and barrenness of
an icy heart. The generality of mankind, more simple, more candid,
more natural, are consequently ill-suited to a system of atheism, or
indifference. Such a system may take possession of the proud mind of
a learned visionary; it may be adopted, as a convenient opinion, by
dissipated youth; and in times of agitation, it may influence a few
fiery spirits; but it will never be able to establish itself in society
as a normal condition.
No, by no means. An individual may be irreligious, but families and
society never will. Without a basis on which the social edifice must
rest; without a great creative idea, whence will flow the ideas of
reason, virtue, justice, obligation, and right, which are as necessary
to the existence and preservation of society as blood and nourishment
are to the life of the individual, society would be destroyed; without
the sweet ties by which religious ideas unite together the members of
a family, without the heavenly harmony which they infuse into all its
connections, the family would cease to exist, or at least would be only
a rude and transient union, resembling the intercourse of animals.
God has happily gifted all his creatures with a marvellous instinct
of self-preservation. Guided by that instinct, families and society
repudiate with indignation those degrading ideas which, blasting by
their fatal breath all the germs of life, breaking all ties, upsetting
all laws, make both of them retrograde towards the most abject
barbarism, and finish by scattering their members like dust before the
wind.
The repeated lessons of experience ought to have convinced certain
philosophers that these ideas and feelings, engraven on the heart of
man by the finger of the Author of nature, cannot be eradicated by
declamation or sophistry. If a few ephemeral triumphs have occasionally
flattered their pride, and made them conceive false hopes of the result
of their efforts, the course of events has soon shown them, that to
pride themselves on these triumphs was to act like a man who, on
account of having succeeded in infusing unnatural sentiments into the
hearts of a few mothers, would flatter himself that he has banished
maternal love from the world. Society (I do not mean the populace or
the commonalty)--society will be religious, even at the risk of being
superstitious; if it does not believe in reasonable things, it will in
extravagant ones; and if it have not a divine religion, it will have a
human one: to suppose the contrary, is to dream; to struggle against
this tendency, is to struggle against an eternal law; to attempt to
restrain it, is to attempt to restrain with a weak arm a body launched
with an immense force--the arm will be destroyed, but the body will
continue its course. Men may call this superstition, fanaticism, the
result of error; but to talk thus can only serve to console them for
their failure.
Since, then, religion is a real necessity, we have therein an
explanation of the phenomenon which history and experience present
to us, namely, that religion never wholly disappears, and that when
changes take place, the two rival religions, during their struggles,
more or less protracted, occupy successively the same ground. The
consequence is, that Protestantism cannot entirely disappear unless
another religion takes its place. Now, as in the actual state of
civilization, no religion can replace it but the Catholic, it is
evident that Protestant sects will continue to occupy, with more or
less variation, the countries which they have gained.
Indeed, how is it possible, in the present state of civilization among
Protestant nations, that the follies of the Koran, or the absurdities
of idolatry, should have any chance of success among them? The spirit
of Christianity circulates in the veins of modern society; its seal
is set upon all legislation; its light is shed upon all branches of
knowledge; its phraseology is found in all languages; its precepts
regulate morals; habits and manners have assumed its form; the fine
arts breathe its perfume, and all the monuments of genius are full
of its inspirations. Christianity, in a word, pervades all parts of
that great, varied, and fertile civilization, which is the glory of
modern society. How then, is it possible for a religion entirely to
disappear which possesses, with the most venerable antiquity, so many
claims to gratitude, so many endearing ties, and so many glorious
recollections? How could it give place, among Christian nations, to
one of those religions which, at the first glance, show the finger
of man, and indicate, as their distinctive mark, degradation and
debasement? Although the essential principle of Protestantism saps
the foundations of the Christian religion, although it disfigures its
beauty, and lowers its sublimity, yet the remains which it preserves of
Christianity, its idea of God, and its maxims of morality, raise it far
above all the systems of philosophy, and all the other religions of the
world.
If, then, Protestantism has preserved some shadow of the Christian
religion, it was because, looking at the condition of the nations who
took part in the schism, it was impossible for the Christian name
wholly to disappear; and not on account of any principle of life
contained in the bosom of the pretended Reformation. On the other
hand, consider the efforts of politicians, the natural attachment of
ministers to their own interests, the illusions of pride which flatter
men with the freedom they will enjoy in the absence of all authority,
the remains of old prejudices, the power of education, and such like
causes, and you will find a complete solution of the question. Then
you will no longer be surprised that Protestantism continues to retain
possession of many of those countries where it unfortunately became
deeply rooted.
CHAPTER XI.
THE POSITIVE DOCTRINES OF PROTESTANTISM REPUGNANT TO THE INSTINCT OF
CIVILIZATION.
The best proof of the extreme weakness of Protestantism, considered
as a body of doctrine, is the little influence which its positive
doctrines have exercised in European civilization. I call its positive
doctrines those which it attempts to establish as its own; and I
distinguish them thus from its other doctrines, which I call negative,
because they are nothing but the negation of authority. The latter
found favor on account of their conformity with the inconstancy and
changeableness of the human mind; but the others, which have not the
same means of success, have all disappeared with their authors, and are
now plunged in oblivion. The only part of Christianity which has been
preserved among Protestants, is that which was necessary to prevent
European civilization from losing among them its nature and character;
and this is the reason why the doctrines which had too direct a
tendency to alter the nature of this civilization have been repudiated,
we should rather say, despised by it.
There is a circumstance here well worthy of attention, and which has
not perhaps been noticed, viz. the fate of the doctrine held by the
first reformers with respect to free-will. It is well known that one
of the first and most important errors of Luther and Calvin consisted
in denying free-will. We find this fatal doctrine professed in the
works which they have left us. Does it not seem that this doctrine
ought to have preserved its credit among the Protestants, and that they
ought to have fiercely maintained it, since such is commonly the case
with errors which serve as a nucleus in the formation of a sect? It
seems, also, that Protestantism being widely spread, and deeply rooted
in several countries of Europe, this fatalist doctrine ought to have
exercised a strong influence on the legislation of Protestant nations.
Wonderful as it is, such has not been the case; European moralists have
despised it; legislation has not adopted it as a basis; civilization
has not allowed itself to be directed by a principle which sapped all
the foundations of morality, and which, if once applied to morals and
laws, would have substituted for European civilization and dignity the
barbarism and debasement of Mahometanism.
There is no doubt that this fatal doctrine has perverted some
individuals; it has been adopted by sects more or less numerous; and
it cannot be denied that it has affected the morality of some nations.
But it is also certain, that, in the generality of the great human
family, governments, tribunals, administration, legislation, science,
and morals, have not listened to this horrible doctrine of Luther,--a
doctrine which strips man of his free will, which makes God the author
of sin, which charges the Creator with the responsibility of all the
crimes of His creatures, and represents Him as a tyrant, by affirming
that His precepts are impossible; a doctrine which monstrously
confounds the ideas of good and evil, and removes all stimulus to good
deeds, by teaching that faith is sufficient for salvation, and that all
the good works of the just are only sins.
Public opinion, good sense, and morality here side with Catholicity.
Those even who in theory embrace these fatal religious doctrines,
usually reject them in practice; this is because Catholic instruction
on these important points has made so deep an impression on them;
because so strong an instinct of civilization has been communicated
to European society by the Catholic religion. Thus the Church, by
repudiating the destructive errors taught by Protestantism, preserved
society from being debased by these fatalist doctrines. The Church
formed a barrier against the despotism which is enthroned wherever the
sense of dignity is lost; she was a fence against the demoralization
which always spreads whenever men think themselves bound by blind
necessity, as by an iron chain; she also freed the human mind from
the state of abjection into which it falls whenever it thinks itself
deprived of the government of its own conduct, and of the power of
influencing the course of events. In condemning those errors of Luther,
which were the bond of Protestantism at its birth, the Pope raised
the alarm against an irruption of barbarism into the order of ideas;
he saved morality, laws, public order, and society; the Vatican, by
securing the noble sentiment of liberty in the sanctuary of conscience,
preserved the dignity of man; by struggling against Protestant ideas,
by defending the sacred deposit confided to it by its Divine Master,
the Roman See became the tutelary divinity of future civilization.
Reflect on these great truths, understand them thoroughly, you who
speak of religious disputes with cold indifference, with apparent
mockery and pity, as if they were only scholastic puerilities. Nations
_do not live on bread alone_; they live also on ideas, on maxims,
which, converted into spiritual aliment, give them greatness, strength,
and energy, or, on the contrary, weaken them, reduce them, and condemn
them to stupidity. Look over the face of the globe, examine the periods
of human history, compare times with times, and nations with nations,
and you will see that the Church, by giving so much importance to the
preservation of these transcendent truths, by accepting no compromise
on this point, has understood and realized better than any other
teacher, the elevated and salutary maxim, that truth ought to reign in
the world; that on the order of ideas depends the order of events, and
that when these great problems are called in question, the destinies of
humanity are involved.
Let us recapitulate what we have said; the essential principle of
Protestantism is one of destruction; this is the cause of its incessant
variations, of its dissolution and annihilation. As a particular
religion it no longer exists, for it has no peculiar faith, no positive
character, no government, nothing that is essential to form an
existence; Protestantism is only a negative. If there is any thing to
be found in it of a positive nature, it is nothing more than vestiges
and ruins; all is without force, without action, without the spirit of
life. It cannot show an edifice raised by its own hands; it cannot,
like Catholicity, stand in the midst of its vast works and say, "These
are mine." Protestantism can only sit down on a heap of ruins, and say
with truth, "I have made this pile."
As long as sectarian fanaticism lasted, as long as this flame,
enkindled by furious declamation, was kept alive by unhappy
circumstances, Protestantism showed a certain degree of force, which,
although it was not the sign of vigorous life, at least indicated
the convulsive energy of delirium. But that period has passed, the
action of time has dispersed the elements that fed the flame, and
none of the attempts which have been made to give to the Reformation
the character of a work of God, have been able to conceal the fact
that it was the work of human passions. Let us not be deceived by the
efforts which are now being made; what is acting under our eyes is
not living Protestantism, it is the operation of false philosophy,
perhaps of policy, sometimes of sordid interest disguised under the
name of policy. Every one knows how powerful Protestantism was in
exciting disturbances and causing disunion. It is on this account that
evil-minded men search in the bed of this exhausted torrent for some
remains of its impure waters, and knowing them to contain a deadly
poison, present them to the unsuspecting in a golden cup.
But it is in vain for weak man to struggle against the arm of the
Almighty, God will not abandon His work. Notwithstanding all his
attempts to deface the work of God, man cannot blot out the eternal
characters which distinguish truth from error. Truth in itself is
strong and robust: as it is the ensemble of the relations which unite
things together, it is strongly connected with them, and cannot be
separated either by the efforts of man or by the revolution of time.
Error, on the contrary, the lying image of the great ties which bind
together the compact mass of the universe, stretches over its usurped
domain like those dead branches of the forest which, devoid of sap,
afford neither freshness nor verdure, and only serve to impede the
advance of the traveller.
Confiding men, do not allow yourselves to be seduced by brilliant
appearances, pompous discourse, or false activity. Truth is open,
modest, without suspicion, because it is pure and strong; error is
hypocritical and ostentatious, because it is false and weak. Truth
resembles a woman of real beauty, who, conscious of her charms,
despises the affectation of ornament; error, on the contrary, paints
and ornaments herself, because she is ugly, without expression,
without grace, without dignity. Perhaps you may be pleased with its
laborious activity. Know, then, that it has no strength but when it
is the rallying cry of a faction; then, indeed, it is rapid in action
and fertile in violent measures. It is like the meteor which explodes
and vanishes, leaving behind it nothing but darkness, death, and
destruction; truth, on the contrary, like the sun, sends forth its
bright and steady beams, fertilizes with its genial warmth, and sheds
on every side life, joy, and beauty.
CHAPTER XII.
THE EFFECTS WHICH THE INTRODUCTION OF PROTESTANTISM INTO SPAIN WOULD
HAVE PRODUCED.
In order to judge of the real effect which the introduction of
Protestant doctrines would have had in Spain, we shall do well, in
the first place, to take a survey of the present state of religion
in Europe. In spite of the confusion of ideas which is one of the
prevailing characteristics of the age, it is undeniable that the spirit
of infidelity and irreligion has lost much of its strength, and that
where it still exists it has merged into indifference, instead of
preserving its systematic form of the last century. With the lapse
of time declamation ceases; men grow tired of continually repeating
the same insulting language; their minds resist the intolerance and
bad faith of sects; systems betray their emptiness, opinions their
erroneousness, judgments their precipitation, and reasonings their want
of exactitude. Time shows their counterfeit intentions, their deceptive
statements, the littleness of their ideas, and the mischievousness of
their projects; truth begins to recover its empire, things regain their
real names, and, thanks to the new direction of the public mind, that
which before was considered innocent and generous is now looked upon
as criminal and vile. The deceitful masks are taken off, and falsehood
is discovered surrounded by the discredit which ought always to have
accompanied it.
Irreligious ideas, like all those which are prevalent in an advanced
state of society, would not, and could not be confined to mere
speculation; they invaded the domain of practice, and labored to gain
the upper hand in all branches of administration and politics. But the
revolution which they produced in society became fatal to themselves;
for there is nothing which better exposes the faults and errors of
a system, and undeceives men on the subject, than the touchstone
of experience. There is in our minds a certain power of viewing
an object under a variety of aspects, and an unfortunate aptitude
for supporting the most extravagant proposition by a multitude of
sophisms. In mere disputation, it is difficult for the most reasoning
minds to keep clear of the snares of sophistry. But when we come to
experience, it is otherwise; the mind is silent, and facts speak; and
if the experience has been on a large scale, and applied to objects of
great interest and importance, it is difficult for the most specious
arguments to counteract the convincing eloquence of the result. Hence
it is that a man of much experience obtains an instinct so sure and
delicate, that when a system is but explained he can point out all its
inconveniences. Inexperience, presumptuous and prejudiced, appeals to
argument in support of its doctrines; but good sense, that precious and
inestimable quality, shakes its head, shrugs its shoulders, and with a
tranquil smile leaves its prediction to be tested by time.
It is not necessary now to insist on the practical results of those
doctrines of which infidelity was the motto; we have said enough on
that subject. Suffice it to say, that those same men who seem to belong
to the last century by their principles, interests, recollections, or
for other reasons, have been obliged to modify their doctrines, to
limit their principles, to palliate their propositions, to cool the
warmth and passion of their invectives; and when they wish to give a
mark of their esteem and veneration for those writers who were the
delight of their youth, they are compelled to declare "that those men
were great philosophers, but philosophers of the cabinet;" as if in
reality what they call the knowledge of the cabinet was not the most
dangerous ignorance.
It is certain that these attempts have had the effect of throwing
discredit on irreligion as a system. If people do not regard it with
horror, at least they look upon it with mistrust. Irreligion has
labored in all the branches of science, in the vain hope that the
heavens would cease to relate the glories of God, that the earth would
disown Him who laid its foundations, and that all nature would give
testimony against the Lord who gave it existence and life. These same
labors have banished the scandalous division which had begun between
religion and science; so that the ancient accents of the man of Hus
have again resounded, without dishonor to science, in the mouths of
men in the nineteenth century; and what shall we say of the triumphs
of religion in all that is noble, tender, and sublime on earth? How
grand are the operations of Providence displayed therein! Admirable
dispensation! The mysterious hand which governs the universe seems to
hold in reserve for every great crisis of society an extraordinary
man. At the proper moment this man presents himself; he advances,
himself ignorant whither he is going, but he advances with a firm step
towards the accomplishment of the high mission for which Providence has
destined him.
Atheism was bathing France in a sea of tears and blood; an unknown man
silently traverses the ocean. While the violence of the tempest rends
the sails of his vessel, he listens attentively to the hurricane--he
is lost in the contemplation of the majesty of the heavens. Wandering
in the solitudes of America, he asks of the wonders of creation the
name of their Author; the thunder on the confines of the desert, the
low murmuring of the forests, and the beauties of nature answer him
with canticles of love and harmony. The view of a solitary cross
reveals to him mysterious secrets; the traces of an unknown missionary
awaken important recollections which connect the new world with the
old; a monument in ruins, the hut of a savage, excite in his mind
thoughts which penetrate to the foundations of society and to the
heart of man. Intoxicated with these spectacles, his mind full of
sublime conceptions, and his heart inundated with the charms of so
much beauty, this man returns to his native soil. What does he find
there? The bloody traces of Atheism; the ruins and ashes of ancient
temples devoured by the flames or destroyed by violence; the remains of
a multitude of innocent victims, buried in the graves which formerly
afforded an asylum to persecuted Christians. He observes, however, that
something is in agitation; he sees that religion is about to redescend
upon France, like consolation upon the unfortunate, or the breath of
life upon a corpse. From that moment he hears on all sides a concert of
celestial harmony; the inspirations of meditation and solitude revive
and ferment in his great soul; transported out of himself, and ravished
into ecstasy, he sings with a tongue of fire the glories of religion,
he reveals the delicacy and beauty of the relations between religion
and nature, and in surpassing language he points out to astonished men
the mysterious golden chain which connects the heavens and the earth.
That man was Chateaubriand.
It must, however, be confessed, that the confusion which has been
introduced into ideas cannot be corrected in a short time, and that it
is not easy to eradicate the deep traces of the ravages of irreligion.
Men's minds, it is true, are tired of the irreligious system; society,
which had lost its balance, is generally ill at ease; the family feels
its ties relaxed, and individuals sigh after a ray of light, a drop
of hope and consolation. But where shall the world find the remedy
which is wanting? Will it follow the best road--the only road? Will
it re-enter the fold of the Catholic Church? Alas! God alone knows
the secrets of the future; He alone has clearly unfolded before His
eyes the great events which are no doubt awaiting humanity. He alone
knows what will be the result of that activity, of that energy, which
again urges men to the examination of great political and religious
questions; and He alone knows what, to future generations, will be
the result of the triumphs obtained by religion, in the fine arts, in
literature, in science, in politics, in all the operations carried on
by the human mind.
As to us, carried away as we are by the rapid and precipitate course
of revolution, hardly have we time to cast a fleeting glance upon
the chaos in which our country is involved. What can we confidently
predict? All that we can be sure of is, that we are in an age of
disquietude, of agitation, of transition; that the multiplied examples
and warnings of so many disappointed expectations, the fruits of
fearful revolutions and unheard-of catastrophes, have everywhere thrown
discredit upon irreligious and disorganizing doctrines, without having
established the legitimate empire of true religion. Hearts sick of so
many misfortunes are willingly open to hope; but minds are in a state
of great uncertainty as to the future: perhaps they even anticipate
a new series of calamities. Owing to revolutions, to the efforts of
industry, to the activity and extension of commerce, to the progress
and prodigious diffusion of printing, to scientific discoveries, to the
ease, rapidity, and universality of communication, to the taste for
travelling, to the dissolving action of Protestantism, of incredulity,
and skepticism, the human mind certainly now presents one of the most
singular phases of its history. Reason, imagination, and the heart are
in a state of agitation, of movement, and of extraordinary development,
and show us at the same time the most singular contrasts, the most
ridiculous extravagances, and the most absurd contradictions. Observe
the sciences, and you will no longer find those lengthened labors,
that indefatigable patience, that calm and tranquil progress, which
characterized these studies at other epochs; but you will find there
a spirit of observation, and a tendency to place questions in that
transcendental point of view where may be discovered the relations
subsisting between them, the ties by which they are connected, and
the way in which they throw light upon each other. Questions of
religion, of politics, of legislation, of morals, of government, are
all mingled, stand prominently forward, and give to the horizon of
science a grandeur and immensity which it did not previously possess.
This progress, this confusion, this chaos, if you like to call it so,
is a fact which must be taken into account in studying the spirit of
the age, in examining the religious condition of the time; for it is
not the work of a single man, or the effect of accident; it is the
result of a multitude of causes, the fruit of a great number of facts;
it is an expression of the present state of intelligence; a symptom
of strength and disease, an announcement of change and of transition,
perhaps a sign of consolation, perhaps a presage of misfortune. And
who has not observed the fertility of imagination and unbounded reach
of thought in that literature, so various, so irregular, and so vague,
but at the same time so rich in fine images, in delicate feeling, and
in bold and generous thought? You may talk as much as you please of the
debasement of science, of the falling off in study. You may speak in
a tone of derision of the _lights of the age_, and turn with regret to
ages more studious and more learned; there will be some exaggeration,
truth and error, in all this, as there always is in declamation of
this kind; but whatever may be the degree of utility belonging to the
present labors of the human mind, never, perhaps, was there a time
when it displayed more activity and energy, never was it agitated by
a movement so general, so lively, so various, and never, perhaps, did
it desire, with a more excusable curiosity and impatience, to raise
a part of the veil which covers the boundless future. What will be
able to govern elements so powerful and so opposite? What can calm
this tempestuous sea? What will give the union, the connection, the
consistency necessary to form, out of these repulsive and discordant
elements, a whole compact and capable of resisting the action of time?
Will this be done by Protestantism, with its fundamental principle
which establishes and diffuses and sanctions the dissolving principle
of private interpretation in matters of religion, and realizes this
unhappy notion by circulating among all classes of society copies of
the Bible?
Nations numerous, proud of their power, vain of their knowledge,
rendered dissipated by pleasure, refined by luxury, continually exposed
to the powerful influence of the press, and possessing means of
communication which would have appeared fabulous to their ancestors;
nations in whom all the violent passions have an object, all intrigues
an existence, all corruptions a veil, all crimes a title, all errors an
advocate, all interests a support; nations which, warned and deceived,
still vacillate in a state of dreadful uncertainty between truth and
falsehood; sometimes looking at the torch of truth as if they meant to
be guided by its light, and then again seduced by an _ignis fatuus_;
sometimes making an effort to rule the storm, and then abandoning
themselves to its violence; modern nations show us a picture as
extraordinary as it is interesting, where hopes, fears, prognostics,
and conjectures have free scope, and nobody can pretend to predict with
accuracy, and the wise man must await in silence the dénouement marked
out in the secret decrees of God, where alone are clearly written the
events of all time, and the future destinies of men.
But it may be easily understood that Protestantism, on account of its
essentially dissolving nature, is incapable of producing any thing in
morals or religion to increase the happiness of nations, for it is
impossible for this happiness to exist as long as men's minds are at
war on the most important questions which can occupy them.
When the observer, amid this chaos and obscurity, seeks for a ray of
light to illuminate the world--for a powerful principle capable of
putting an end to so much confusion and anarchy, and of bringing back
men's minds to the path of truth, Catholicity immediately presents
herself to him, as the only source of all these benefits. When we
consider with what _éclat_ and with what power Catholicity maintains
herself against all the unprecedented attempts which are made to
destroy her, our hearts are filled with hope and consolation; and we
feel inclined to hail this divine religion, and to congratulate her on
the new triumph which she is about to achieve on earth.
There was a time when Europe, inundated by a torrent of barbarians,
saw at once overwhelmed all the monuments of ancient civilization
and refinement. Legislators and their laws, the empire and its power
and splendor, philosophers and the sciences, the arts and their
_chef-d'œuvres_, all disappeared; and those immense regions, where
had flourished all the civilization and refinement that had been
gained during so many ages, were suddenly plunged into ignorance and
barbarism. Nevertheless, the spark of light which had appeared to the
world in Palestine, continued to shine amid the chaos: in vain did
whirlwinds threaten to extinguish it; kept alive by the breath of the
Eternal, it continued to shine. Ages rolled away, and it appeared with
greater brilliancy; and when, perchance, the nations only expected a
beam of light to guide them in the darkness, they found a resplendent
sun, everywhere diffusing life and light: and who shall say that there
is not reserved for her in the secrets of the Eternal, another triumph
more difficult, but not less useful, not less brilliant? If in other
times that religion instructed ignorance, civilized barbarism, polished
rudeness, softened ferocity, and preserved society from being always
the prey of the fiercest brutality and the most degrading stupidity,
will it be less glorious for her to correct ideas, to harmonize and
refine feelings, to establish the eternal principles of society, to
curb the passions, to remove animosities, to remove excesses, to
govern all minds and hearts? How honorable will it be to her, if,
while regulating all things, and unceasingly stimulating all kinds
of knowledge and improvement, she can inspire with a proper spirit
of moderation that society which so many elements, devoid of central
attraction, threaten every moment with dissolution and death!
It is not given to man to penetrate the future; but in the same way as
the physical world would be broken up by a terrible catastrophe, if it
were deprived for a moment of the fundamental principle which gives
unity, order, and concert to the various movements of the system; in
the same way, if society, full as it is of motion, of communication,
and life, were not placed under the direction of a constant and
universal regulating principle, we could not fix our eyes on the lot of
future generations without the greatest alarm.
There is, however, a fact which is consoling in the highest degree,
viz. the wonderful progress which Catholicity has made in different
countries. It is gaining strength in France and Belgium: the obstinacy
with which it is combated in the north of Europe shows how much it
is feared. In England its progress has been recently so great that
it would not be credited without the most irresistible evidence; and
in the foreign missions it has shown an extent of enterprise and
fruitfulness, worthy of the time of its greatest ascendency and power.
When other nations tend towards unity, shall we commit the gross
mistake of adopting schism? at a time when other nations would be happy
to find within their bosoms a vital principle capable of restoring the
power which incredulity has destroyed, shall Spain, which preserves
Catholicity, and alone possesses it full and complete, allow the germ
of death to be introduced into her bosom, thereby rendering impossible
the cure of her evils, or rather entailing on herself complete and
certain ruin? Amid the moral regeneration towards which nations are
advancing, seeking to quit the painful position in which they have
been placed by irreligious doctrines, is it possible to overlook the
immense advantage which Spain still preserves over most of them? Spain
is one of those least affected by the gangrene of irreligion; she still
preserves religious unity, that inestimable inheritance of a long
line of ages. Is it possible to overlook the advantage of that unity
if properly made use of, that unity which is mixed up with all our
glories, which awakens such noble recollections, and which may be made
so wonderful an instrument in the regeneration of social order?
If I am asked my opinion of the nearness of the danger, and if I think
the present attempts of Protestants have any probability of success,
I must draw a distinction in my reply. Protestantism is extremely
weak, both on account of its own nature, and of its age and decaying
condition. In endeavoring to introduce itself into Spain, it will
have to contend with an adversary full of life and strength, and
deeply rooted in the soil. This is the reason why I think that its
direct action is not to be feared; and yet, if it should succeed in
establishing itself in any part of our country, however limited may
be its domain, it is sure to produce fearful results. It is evident
that we shall then have in the midst of us a new apple of discord, and
it is not difficult to foresee that collisions will frequently arise.
Protestantism in Spain, besides its intrinsic weakness, will labor
under the disadvantage of not finding its natural aliment. Hence it
will be obliged to take advantage of any support that is offered; it
will immediately become the point of reunion for the discontented; and
although failing in its intended object, it will succeed in becoming
the nucleus of new parties and the banner of factions. Scandal, strife,
demoralization, troubles, and perhaps catastrophes,--such will be the
immediate and infallible results of the introduction of Protestantism
among us. On this point I appeal to the candid opinion of every man who
is well acquainted with Spain. But this is not all: the question is
enlarged, and acquires an incalculable importance, if we consider it
with reference to foreign politics. What a lever will be afforded to
foreigners for all kinds of attempts in our unhappy country! How gladly
will those, who are perhaps on the look-out for such an aid, avail
themselves of it!
There is in Europe a nation remarkable for her immense power, and
worthy of respect on account of the great progress which she has made
in the arts and sciences; a nation that holds in her hands powerful
means of action in all parts of the world, and knows how to use them
with wonderful discretion and sagacity. As that nation has taken the
lead in modern times in passing through all the phases of political and
religious revolution, and has seen, during fearful convulsions, the
passions in all their nakedness, and crime in all its forms, she is
better acquainted than all others with their causes.
Not misled by the vain names under which, at such periods, the lowest
passions and the most sordid interests disguise themselves, she is too
much on her guard to allow the troubles which have inundated other
countries with tears and blood, to be easily excited within herself.
Her internal peace is not disturbed by the agitation and heat of
disputes; although she may expect to have to encounter, sooner or
later, difficulties and embarrassments, she enjoys, in the mean time,
the tranquillity which is secured to her by her constitution, her
manners, her riches,--and, above all, by the ocean which surrounds
her. Placed in so advantageous a position, that nation watches the
progress of others, for the purpose of attaching them to her car by
golden chains, if they are simple enough to listen to her flattery; at
least she attempts to hinder their advance, when a noble independence
is about to free them from her influence. Always attentive to her own
aggrandizement, by means of commerce and the arts, and by a policy
eminently mercantile, she hides her self-interest under all sorts of
disguises; and although religion and politics, where she has to do
with another people, are quite indifferent to her, she knows how to
make an adroit use of these powerful arms, to make friends, to defeat
her enemies, and to enclose all within the net of commerce, which she
is always extending in all quarters of the world. Her sagacity must
necessarily have perceived how much progress she will have made in
adding Spain to the number of her colonies, when she has persuaded
the Spanish people to fraternize with her in religion; not so much on
account of the sympathy which such a fraternization would establish
between them, as because she would find therein a sure method of
stripping the Spanish people of that peculiar character and grave
appearance which distinguishes them from all others, by depriving
them of the only national and regenerative idea which remains to them
after so many convulsions; from that moment, in truth, Spain, that
proud nation, would be rendered accessible to all kinds of foreign
impressions, docile and pliable in bending to all opinions, and subject
to the interests of her astute protectors. Let it not be forgotten
that there is no other nation that conceives her plans with so much
foresight, prepares them with so much prudence, executes them with so
much ability and perseverance. As she has remained since her great
revolutions, that is, since the end of the seventeenth century, in a
settled condition, and entirely free from the convulsions undergone
since that time by other European nations, she has been able to follow
a regular political system, both internal and external; and her
politicians have been formed to the perfect science of government, by
constantly inheriting the experience and views of their predecessors.
Her statesmen well know how important it is to be prepared beforehand
for every event. They deeply study what may aid or impede them in
other nations. They go out of the sphere of politics: they penetrate
to the heart of every nation over which they propose to extend their
influence: they examine what are the conditions of its existence; what
is its vital principle; what are the causes of the strength and energy
of every people.
During the autumn of 1805, Pitt gave a dinner in the country to some
of his friends. While thus engaged, a despatch was brought to him
announcing the surrender of Mack at Ulm, with 40,000 men, and the march
of Napoleon on Vienna. Pitt communicated the fatal news to his friends,
who cried out, "All is lost; there is no longer any resource against
him." "There is one still left," replied the minister, "if I can excite
a national war in Europe; and that war must begin in Spain." "Yes,
gentlemen," he added, "Spain will be the first country to commence
the patriotic war which shall give liberty to Europe." Such was the
importance attributed by this profound statesman to a national idea;
he expected from it what the strength of all the governments could not
effect, the downfall of Napoleon, and the liberation of Europe. But it
not uncommonly happens that the march of events is such, that these
same national ideas, which one time were the powerful auxiliaries of
ambitious cabinets, become, at another, the greatest obstacles; and
then, instead of encouraging, it becomes their interest to extinguish
them. As the nature of this work will not allow me to enter into the
details of politics, I must content myself with appealing to the
judgment of those who have observed the line of conduct pursued by
England during our war and revolution, since the death of Ferdinand
VII. If we consider what the interests of that powerful nation require
for the future, we may conjecture the part which she will take.
The means of saving a nation, by delivering it from interested
protectors, and of securing her real independence, are to be found in
great and generous ideas, deeply rooted in the people; in feelings
engraved on their hearts by the action of time, by the influence of
powerful institutions, by ancient manners and customs; in fine, in that
unity of religious thought, which makes a whole people as one man. Then
the past is united with the present, the present is connected with the
future; then arises in the mind that enthusiasm which is the source of
great deeds; then are found disinterestedness, energy, and constancy;
because ideas are fixed and elevated, because hearts are great and
generous.
It is not impossible that during one of the convulsions which disturb
our unhappy country, men may arise amongst us blind enough to attempt
to introduce the Protestant religion into Spain. We have had warnings
enough to alarm us; we have not forgotten events which showed plainly
enough how far some would sometimes have gone, if the great majority
of the nation had not restrained them by their disapprobation. We
do not dread the outrages of the reign of Henry VIII.; but what we
do fear is, that advantage may be taken of a violent rupture with
the Holy See, of the obstinacy and ambition of some ecclesiastics,
of the pretext of establishing toleration in our country, or some
other pretext, to attempt to introduce amongst us, in some shape or
other, the doctrines of Protestantism. We certainly have no need of
importing toleration from abroad; it already exists amongst us so
fully, that no one is afraid of being disturbed on account of his
religious opinions. What would be thus introduced and established in
Spain, would be a new system of religion, provided with every thing
necessary for gaining the upper hand; and for weakening, and, if
possible, destroying Catholicity. Then would resound in our ears, with
a force constantly increasing, the fierce declamation which we have
heard for several years; the vain threatenings of a party who are
delirious, because they are on the point of expiring. The aversion with
which the nation regards the pretended Reformation, we have no doubt,
would be looked upon as rebellion; the pastorals of bishops would be
treated as insidious persuasions, and the fervent zeal of our priests
as sedition; the unanimity of Catholics to preserve themselves from
contagion would be denounced as a diabolical conspiracy, devised by
intolerance and party spirit, and executed by ignorance and fanaticism.
Amid the efforts of the one party, and the resistance of the other,
we should see enacted, in a greater or less degree, the scenes of
times gone by; and although the spirit of moderation, which is one of
the characteristics of this age, would not allow the perpetration of
excesses which have stained the annals of other nations, they would
not be without imitators. We must not forget that, with respect to
religion in Spain, we cannot calculate on the coldness and indifference
which other nations would now display on a similar occasion. With the
latter, religious feelings have lost much of their force, but in Spain
they are still deep, lively, and energetic; and if they were to come
into open and avowed opposition to each other, the shock would be
violent and general. Although we have witnessed lamentable scandals,
and even fearful catastrophes in religious matters, yet, up to this
time, perverse intentions have been always concealed by a mask, more
or less transparent. Sometimes the attack was made against a person
charged with political machinations; sometimes against certain classes
of citizens, who were accused of imaginary crimes. If, at times, the
revolution exceeded its bounds, it was said that it was impossible to
restrain it, and thus the vexations, the insults, the outrages heaped
upon all that was most sacred upon earth, were only the inevitable
results, and the work of a mob that nothing could restrain. There
has always been more or less of disguise; but if the dogmas of
Catholicity were attacked deliberately, and with _sang froid_; if
the most important points of discipline were trodden under foot; if
the most august mysteries were turned into ridicule, and the most
holy ceremonies treated with public contempt; if church were raised
against church, and pulpit against pulpit, what would be the result?
It is certain that minds would be very much exasperated; and if, as
might be feared, alarming explosions did not ensue, at least religious
controversy would assume a character so violent that we should believe
ourselves transferred to the sixteenth century.
It is a common thing among us for the principles which prevail in
politics to be entirely opposed to those which rule in society; it may
then easily happen that a religious principle, rejected by society,
may find support among influential statesmen. We should then see
reproduced, under more important circumstances, a phenomenon which
we have witnessed for so many years, viz. governments attempting to
alter the course of society by force. This is one of the principal
differences between our revolution and those of other countries; it
is, at the same time, a key which explains the greatest anomalies.
Everywhere else revolutionary ideas took possession of society, and
afterwards extended themselves to the sphere of politics; with us they
first ruled in the political sphere, and afterwards strove to descend
into the social sphere; society was far from being prepared for such
innovations; this was the cause of shocks so violent and so frequent.
It is on account of this want of harmony that the government of Spain
exercises so little influence over the people; I mean by influence,
that moral ascendency which does not require to be accompanied by
the idea of force. There is no doubt that this is an evil, since it
tends to weaken that authority which is indispensably necessary for
all societies. But on more than one occasion it has been a great
benefit. It is no slight advantage that in presence of a senseless and
inconstant government there is found a society full of calmness and
wisdom, and that that society pursues its quiet and majestic march,
while the government is carried away by rashness. We may expect much
from the right instinct of the Spanish nation, from her proverbial
gravity, which so many misfortunes have only augmented, and from
that fact, which teaches her so well how to discern the true path to
happiness, by rendering her deaf to the insidious suggestions of those
who seek to lead her astray. Although for so many years, owing to a
fatal combination of circumstances, and a want of harmony between
the social and political order, Spain has not been able to obtain a
government which understands her feelings and instincts, follows her
inclinations, and promotes her prosperity, we still cherish the hope
that the day will come when from her own bosom, so fertile in future
life, will come forth the harmony which she seeks, and the equilibrium
which she has lost. In the mean time, it is of the highest importance
that all men who have a Spanish heart in their breasts, and who do
not wish to see the vitals of their country torn to pieces, should
unite and act in concert to preserve her from the genius of evil.
Their unanimity will prevent the seeds of perpetual discord from being
scattered upon our soil, will ward off this additional calamity, and
will preserve from destruction those precious germs, whence may arise,
with renovated vigor, our civilization, which has been so much injured
by disastrous events.
The soul is overwhelmed with painful apprehensions at the thought
that a day may come when religious unity will be banished from among
us; that unity which is identified with our habits, our customs, our
manners, our laws; which guarded the cradle of our monarchy in the
cavern of Covadonga, and which was the emblem on our standard during
a struggle of eight centuries against the formidable crescent; that
unity which developed and illustrated our civilization in times of the
greatest difficulty; that unity which followed our terrible _tercios_,
when they imposed silence upon Europe; which led our sailors when they
discovered the new world, and guided them when they for the first time
made the circuit of the globe; that unity which sustains our soldiers
in their most heroic exploits, and which, at a recent period, gave the
climax to their many glorious deeds in the downfall of Napoleon. You
who condemn so rashly the work of ages; you who offer so many insults
to the Spanish nation, and who treat as barbarism and ignorance the
regulating principle of our civilization, do you know what it is you
insult? Do you know what inspired the genius of Gonzalva, of Ferdinando
Cortez, of the conqueror of Lepanto? Do not the shades of Garcilazo,
of Herrara, of Ercilla, of Fray Luis de Leon, of Cervantes, of Lope de
Vega, inspire you with any respect? Can you venture to break the tie
which connects us with them, to make us the unworthy posterity of these
great men? Do you wish to place an impassable barrier between their
faith and ours, between their manners and ours, to make us destroy all
our traditions, and to forget our most inspiring recollections? Do you
wish to preserve the great and august monuments of our ancestors' piety
among us only as a severe and eloquent reproach? Will you consent to
see dried up the most abundant fountains to which we can have recourse
to revive literature, to strengthen science, to reorganize legislation,
to re-establish the spirit of nationality, to restore our glory, and
replace this nation in the high position which her virtues merit, by
restoring to her the peace and happiness which she seeks with so much
anxiety, and which her heart requires?
CHAPTER XIII.
CATHOLICITY AND PROTESTANTISM IN RELATION TO SOCIAL PROGRESS.
PRELIMINARY COUP D'ŒIL.
After having placed Catholicity and Protestantism in contrast, in a
religious point of view, in the picture which I have just drawn; after
having shown the superiority of the one over the other, not only in
certainty, but also in all that regards the instincts, the feelings,
the ideas, the characteristics of the human mind, it seems to me proper
to approach another question, certainly not less important, but much
less understood, and in the examination of which we shall have to
contend against strong antipathies, and to dissipate many prejudices
and errors. Amid the difficulties by which the question that I am
about to undertake is surrounded, I am supported by a strong hope
that the interest of the subject, and its analogy with the scientific
taste of the age, will invite a perusal; and that I shall thereby
avoid the danger which commonly threatens those who write in favor
of the Catholic religion, that of being judged without being heard.
The question may be stated thus: "When we compare Catholicity and
Protestantism, which do we find the most favorable to real liberty, to
the real progress of nations, to the cause of civilization?" Liberty!
This is one of those words which are as generally employed as they are
little understood; words which, because they contain a certain vague
idea, easily perceived, present the deceptive appearance of perfect
clearness, while, on account of the multitude and variety of objects
to which they apply, they are susceptible of a variety of meanings,
and, consequently, are extremely difficult to comprehend. Who can
reckon the number of applications made of the word liberty? There is
always found in this word a certain radical idea, but the modifications
and graduations to which the idea is subject are infinite. The air
circulates with liberty; we move the soil around the plant, to enable
it to grow and increase with liberty; we clean out the bed of a stream
to allow it to flow with liberty; when we set free a fish in a net,
or a bird in a cage, we give them their liberty; we treat a friend
with freedom; we have free methods, free thoughts, free expressions,
free successions, free will, free actions; a prisoner has no liberty;
nor have boys, girls, or married people; a man behaves with greater
freedom in a foreign country; soldiers are not free; there are men
free from conscription, from contributions; we have free votes, free
acknowledgments, free interpretation, free evidence; freedom of
commerce, of instruction, of the press, of conscience; civil freedom,
and political freedom; we have freedom just, unjust, rational,
irrational, moderate, excessive, limited, licentious, seasonable,
unseasonable. But I need not pursue the endless enumeration. It seemed
to me necessary to dwell upon it for a moment, even at the risk of
fatiguing the reader; perhaps the remembrance of all this may serve to
engrave deeply on our minds the truth, that when, in conversation, in
writing, in public discussions, in laws, this word is so frequently
employed as applied to objects of the highest importance, it is
necessary to consider maturely the number and nature of the ideas which
it embraces in the particular case, the meaning that the subject needs,
the modifications which the circumstances require, and the precaution
demanded in the case.
Whatever may be the acceptation in which the word liberty is taken, it
is apparent that it always implies the absence of a cause restraining
the exercise of a power. Hence it follows that, in order to fix in
each case the real meaning of the word, it is indispensable to pay
attention to the circumstances as well as to the nature of the power,
the exercise of which is to be prevented or limited, without losing
sight of the various objects to which it applies, the conditions of
its exercise, as also the character, power, and extent of the means
which are employed to restrain it. To explain this matter, let it be
proposed to form a judgment on the proposition, "Man ought to enjoy
liberty of thought."
It is here affirmed that freedom of thought in man ought not to be
restrained; but do you speak of physical force exercised directly
on thought itself? In that case the proposition is entirely vain;
for as such an application of force is impossible, it is useless to
say that it ought not to be employed. Do you mean to say that it is
not allowable to restrain the expression of thought; that is to say,
that the liberty of manifesting thought ought not to be hindered or
restrained? You have, then, made a great step, you have placed the
question on a different footing. Or if you do not mean to say that
every man, at all times, in all places, and on all subjects, has a
right to give utterance to all that comes into his head, and that
in any way he may think proper, you must then specify the things,
the persons, the places, the times, the subjects, the conditions; in
short, you must note a variety of circumstances, you must prohibit
altogether in some cases, limit in others, bind in some, loosen in
others; in fine, make so many restrictions, that you will make little
progress in establishing your general principle of freedom of thought,
which at first appeared so simple and so clear. Even in the sanctuary
of thought, where human sight does not extend, and which is open to
the eye of God alone, what means the liberty of thought? Is it owing
to chance that laws are imposed on thought to which it is obliged to
submit under pain of losing itself in chaos? Can it despise the rules
of sound reason? Can it refuse to listen to the counsels of good sense?
Can it forget that its object is truth? Can it disregard the eternal
principles of morality? Thus we find, in examining the meaning of the
word liberty, even as applied to what is certainly freer than any
thing else in man, viz. thought--we find such a number and variety of
meanings that we are forced to make many distinctions, and necessity
compels us to limit the general proposition, if we wish to avoid saying
any thing in opposition to the dictates of reason and good sense, the
eternal laws of morality, the interests of individuals, and the peace
and preservation of society. And what may not be said of so many claims
of liberty which are constantly propounded in language intentionally
vague and equivocal?
I avail myself of these examples to prevent a confusion of ideas; for
in defending the cause of Catholicity, I have no need of pleading for
oppression, or of applauding tyranny, or of approving the conduct of
those who have trodden under foot men's most sacred rights. Yes, I
say, sacred; for after the august religion of Jesus Christ has been
preached, man is sacred in the eyes of other men on account of his
origin and divine destiny, on account of the image of God which is
reflected in him, and because he has been redeemed with ineffable
goodness and love by the Son of the Eternal. This divine religion
declares the rights of man to be sacred; for its august Founder
threatens with eternal punishment not only those who kill a man, those
who mutilate or rob him, but even those who offend him in words:
"He who shall say to his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of
hell-fire." (Matt. v. 22.) Thus speaks our divine Lord.
Our hearts swell with generous indignation, when we hear the religion
of Jesus Christ reproached with a tendency towards oppression. It is
true that, if you confound the spirit of real liberty with that of
demagogues, you will not find it in Catholicity; but, if you avoid a
monstrous misnomer, if you give to the word liberty its reasonable,
just, useful, and beneficial signification, then the Catholic religion
may fearlessly claim the gratitude of the human race, _for she has
civilized the nations who embraced her, and civilization is true
liberty_.
It is a fact now generally acknowledged, and openly confessed, that
Christianity has exercised a very important and salutary influence on
the development of European civilization; if this fact has not yet
had given to it the importance which it deserves, it is because it
has not been sufficiently appreciated. With respect to civilization,
a distinction is sometimes made between the influence of Christianity
and that of Catholicity; its merits are lavished on the former, and
stinted to the latter, by those who forget that, with respect to
European civilization, Catholicity can always claim the principal
share; and, for many centuries, an exclusive one; since, during a very
long period, she worked alone at the great work. People have not been
willing to see that, when Protestantism appeared in Europe, the work
was bordering on completion; with an injustice and ingratitude which
I cannot describe, they have reproached Catholicity with the spirit
of barbarism, ignorance, and oppression, while they were making an
ostentatious display of the rich civilization, knowledge, and liberty,
for which they were principally indebted to her.
If they did not wish to fathom the intimate connection between
Catholicity and European civilization, if they had not the patience
necessary for the long investigations into which this examination would
lead them, at least it would have been proper to take a glance at the
condition of countries where the Catholic religion has not exerted all
her influence during centuries of trouble, and compare them with those
in which she has been predominant. The East and the West, both subject
to great revolutions, both professing Christianity, but in such a way
that the Catholic principle was weak and vacillating in the East, while
it was energetic and deeply rooted in the West; these, we say, would
have afforded two very good points of comparison to estimate the value
of Christianity without Catholicity, when the civilization and the
existence of nations were at stake. In the West, the revolutions were
multiplied and fearful; the chaos was at its height; and, nevertheless,
out of chaos came light and life. Neither the barbarism of the nations
who inundated those countries, and established themselves there, nor
the furious assaults of Islamism, even in the days of its greatest
power and enthusiasm, could succeed in destroying the germs of a rich
and fertile civilization. In the East, on the contrary, all tended
to old age and decay; nothing revived; and, under the blows of the
power which was ineffectual against us, all was shaken to pieces. The
spiritual power of Rome, and its influence on temporal affairs, have
certainly borne fruits very different from those produced, under the
same circumstances, by its violent opponents.
If Europe were destined one day again to undergo a general and fearful
revolution, either by a universal spread of revolutionary ideas or by
a violent invasion of social and proprietary rights by pauperism; if
the colossus of the North, seated on its throne amid eternal snows,
with knowledge in its head, and blind force in its hands, possessing
at once the means of civilization, and unceasingly turning towards
the East, the South, and the West that covetous and crafty look which
in history is the characteristic march of all invading empires; if,
availing itself of a favorable moment, it were to make an attempt on
the independence of Europe, then we should perhaps have a proof of
the value of the Catholic principle in a great extremity; then we
should feel the power of the unity which is proclaimed and supported
by Catholicity, and while calling to mind the middle ages, we should
come to acknowledge one of the causes of the weakness of the East and
the strength of the West. Then would be remembered a fact, which,
though but of yesterday, is falling into oblivion, viz. that the nation
whose heroic courage broke the power of Napoleon was proverbially
Catholic; and who knows whether, in the attempts made in Russia against
Catholicity, attempts which the Vicar of Jesus Christ has deplored
in such touching language--who knows whether there be not the secret
influence of a presentiment, perhaps even a foresight of the necessity
of weakening that sublime power, which has been in all ages, when the
cause of humanity was in question, the centre of great attempts? But
let us return.
It cannot be denied that, since the sixteenth century, European
civilization has shown life and brilliancy; but it is a mistake to
attribute this phenomenon to Protestantism. In order to examine the
extent and influence of a fact, we ought not to be content with the
events which have followed it; it is also necessary to consider whether
these events were already prepared; whether they are any thing more
than the necessary result of anterior facts; and we must take care
not to reason in a way which is justly declared to be sophistical
by logicians, _post hoc, ergo propter hoc_: after that, therefore
on account of it. Without Protestantism, and before it, European
civilization was already very much advanced, thanks to the labors and
influence of the Catholic religion; the greatness and splendor which it
subsequently displayed were not owing to it, but arose in spite of it.
Erroneous ideas on this matter have arisen from the fact, that
Christianity has not been deeply studied; and that, without entering
into a serious examination of Church history, men have too often
contented themselves with taking a superficial view of the principles
of brotherhood which she has so much recommended. In order fully to
understand an institution, it is not enough to remain satisfied with
its leading ideas; it is necessary to follow all its steps, see how it
realizes its ideas, and how it triumphs over the obstacles that oppose
it. We shall never form a complete idea of an historical fact, unless
we carefully study its history. Now the study of Church history in
its relations with civilization, is still incomplete. It is not that
ecclesiastical history has not been profoundly studied; but it may be
said that since the spirit of social analysis has been developed, that
history has not yet been made the subject of those admirable labors
which have thrown so much light upon it in a critical and dogmatical
point of view.
Another impediment to the complete comprehension of this matter is,
that an exaggerated importance is given to the intentions of men, and
the great march of events is too much neglected. The greatness of
events is measured, and their nature judged of, by the immediate means
which produces them, and the objects of the men whose actions are
treated of; this is a very important error. The eye ought to range over
a wider field; we ought to observe the successive development of ideas,
the influence which they have exercised on events, the institutions
which have sprung from them; but it is necessary to see all these
things as they are in themselves, that is, on a large scale, without
stopping to consider particular and isolated facts. It is an important
truth, which ought to be deeply engraven on the mind, that when one
of those great facts which change the lot of a considerable portion
of the human race is developed, it is rarely understood by those who
take part in it, and figure as the principal actors. The march of
humanity is a grand drama; the parts are played by persons who pass
by and disappear: man is very little; God alone is great. Neither the
actors who figured on the scene in the ancient empires of the East, nor
Alexander invading Asia and reducing numberless nations into servitude,
nor the Romans subjugating the world, nor the barbarians overturning
the empire and breaking it in pieces, nor the Mussulmen ruling Asia and
Africa and menacing the independence of Europe, knew, or could know,
that they were the instruments in the great designs whereof we admire
the execution.
I mean to show from this, that when we have to do with Christian
civilization, when we collect and analyze the facts which distinguish
its march, it is not necessary, or even often proper, to suppose that
the men who have contributed to it in the most remarkable manner
understood, to the full extent, the results of their own efforts. It
is glory enough for a man to be pointed out as the chosen instrument
of Providence, without the necessity of attributing to him great
ability or lofty ambition. It is enough to observe that a ray of
light has descended from heaven and illumined his brow; it is of
little importance whether he foresaw that this ray, by reflection,
was destined to shed a brilliant light on future generations. Little
men are commonly smaller than they think themselves, but great men
are often greater than they imagine; if they do not know all their
grandeur, it is because they are ignorant that they are the instruments
of the high designs of Providence. Another observation which we ought
always to have present in the study of these great events is, that we
should not expect to find there a system, the connection and harmony
of which are apparent at the first _coup d'œil_. We must expect to
see some irregularities and objects of an unpleasant aspect; it is
necessary to guard against the childish impatience of anticipating the
time; it is indispensable to abandon that desire which we always have,
in a greater or less degree, and which always urges us to seek every
thing in conformity with our own ideas, and to see every thing advance
in the way most pleasing to us.
Do you not see nature herself so varied, so rich, so grand, lavish
her treasures in disorder, hide her inestimable precious stones and
her most valuable veins of metal in masses of earth? See how she
presents huge chains of mountains, inaccessible rocks, and fearful
precipices, in contrast with her wide and smiling plains. Do you not
observe this apparent disorder, this prodigality, in the midst of which
numberless agents work, in secret concert, to produce the admirable
whole which enchants our eyes and ravishes the lover of nature? So
with society; the facts are dispersed, scattered here and there,
frequently offering no appearance of order or concert; events succeed
each other, act on each other, without the design being discovered; men
unite, separate, co-operate, and contend, and nevertheless time, that
indispensable agent in the production of great works, goes on, and all
is accomplished according to the destinies marked out in the secrets of
the Eternal.
This is the march of humanity; this is the rule for the philosophic
study of history; this is the way to comprehend the influence of those
productive ideas, of those powerful institutions, which from time to
time appear among men to change the face of the earth. When in a study
of this kind we discover acting at the bottom of things a productive
idea, a powerful institution, the mind, far from being frightened
at meeting with some irregularities, is inspired, on the contrary,
with fresh courage; for it is a sure sign that the idea is full of
truth, that the institution is fraught with life, when we see them
pass through the chaos of ages, and come safe out of the frightful
ordeals. Of what importance is it that certain men were not influenced
by the idea, that they did not answer the object of the institution,
if the latter has survived its revolutions, and the former has not
been swallowed up in the stormy sea of the passions? To mention the
weaknesses, the miseries, the faults, the crimes of men, is to make the
most eloquent apology for the idea and the institution.
In viewing men in this way, we do not take them out of their proper
places, and we do not require from them more than is reasonable. We
see them enclosed in the deep bed of the great torrent of events,
and we do not attribute to their intellects, or to their will, any
thing that exceeds the sphere appointed for them; we do not, however,
fail to appreciate in a proper manner the nature and the greatness
of the works in which they take part, but we avoid giving to them an
exaggerated importance, by honoring them with eulogiums which they do
not deserve, or reproaching them unjustly. Times and circumstances
are not monstrously confounded; the observer sees with calmness and
_sang froid_ the events which pass before his eyes; he speaks not of
the empire of Charlemagne as he would of that of Napoleon, and is not
hurried into bitter invectives against Gregory VII. because he did not
adopt the same line of political conduct as Gregory XVI.
Observe that I do not ask from the philosophical historian an impassive
indifference to good and evil, to justice and injustice; I do not claim
indulgence for vice, nor would I refuse to virtue its eulogy. I have
no sympathy with that school of historic fatalism, which would bring
back to the world the destiny of the ancients; a school which, if it
acquired influence, would corrupt the best part of history, and stifle
the most generous emotions. I see in the march of society a plan, a
harmony, but not a blind necessity; I do not believe that events are
mingled up together indiscriminately in the dark urn of destiny, nor
that fatalism holds the world enclosed in an iron circle. But I see a
wonderful chain stretching over the course of centuries, a chain which
does not fetter the movements of individuals or of nations, and which
accommodates itself to the ebb and flow which are required by the
nature of things; at its touch great thoughts arise in the minds of
men: this golden chain is suspended by the hand of the Eternal, it is
the work of infinite intelligence and ineffable love.
CHAPTER XIV.
DID THERE EXIST AT THE EPOCH WHEN CHRISTIANITY APPEARED ANY OTHER
PRINCIPLE OF REGENERATION?
In what condition did Christianity find the world? This is a question
which ought to fix all our attention, if we wish to appreciate
correctly the blessings conferred by that divine religion on
individuals and on society, if we are desirous of knowing the real
character of Christian civilization. Certainly at the time when
Christianity appeared, society presented a dark picture. Covered with
fine appearances, but infected to the heart with a mortal malady,
it presented an image of the most repugnant corruption, veiled by
a brilliant garb of ostentation and opulence. Morality was without
reality, manners without modesty, the passions without restraint, laws
without authority, and religion without God. Ideas were at the mercy
of prejudices, of religious fanaticism, and philosophical subtilties.
Man was a profound mystery to himself; he did not know how to estimate
his own dignity, for he reduced it to the level of brutes; and when
he attempted to exaggerate its importance, he did not know how to
confine it within the limits marked out by reason and nature: and it
is well worthy of observation, that while a great part of the human
race groaned in the most abject servitude, heroes, and even the most
abominable monsters, were elevated to the rank of gods.
Such elements must, sooner or later, have produced social dissolution.
Even if the violent irruption of the barbarians had not taken place,
society must have been overturned sooner or later, for it did not
possess a fertile idea, a consoling thought, or a beam of hope, to
preserve it from ruin.
Idolatry had lost its strength; it was an expedient exhausted by time
and by the gross abuse which the passions had made of it. Its fragile
tissue once exposed to the dissolving influence of philosophical
observation, idolatry was entirely disgraced; and if the rooted force
of habit still exercised a mechanical influence on the minds of
men, that influence was neither capable of re-establishing harmony
in society, nor of producing that fiery enthusiasm which inspires
great actions--enthusiasm which in virgin hearts may be excited by
superstition the most irrational and absurd. To judge of them by the
relaxation of morals, by the enervated weakness of character, by the
effeminate luxury, by the complete abandonment to the most repulsive
amusements and the most shameful pleasures, it is clear that religious
ideas no longer possessed the majesty of the heroic age; no longer
efficacious, they only exerted on men's minds a feeble influence, while
they served in a lamentable manner as instruments of dissolution. Now
it was impossible for it to be otherwise: nations who had obtained
the high degree of cultivation of the Greeks and Romans; nations
who had heard their great sages dispute on the grand questions of
divinity and man, could not continue in the state of simplicity which
was necessary to believe with good faith the intolerable absurdities
of which Paganism is full; and whatever may have been the disposition
of mind among the ignorant portion of the people, assuredly those who
were raised above the common standard did not believe them--those
who listened to philosophers as enlightened as Cicero, and who daily
enjoyed the malicious railleries of their satirical poets.
If religion was impotent, was there not another means, viz. knowledge?
Before we examine what was to be hoped from this, it is necessary to
observe, that knowledge never founded a society, nor was it ever able
to restore one that had lost its balance. In looking over the history
of ancient times, we find at the head of some nations eminent men
who, thanks to the magic influence which they exercised over others,
dictated laws, corrected abuses, rectified ideas, reformed morals, and
established a government on wise principles; thus securing, in a more
or less satisfactory manner, the happiness and prosperity of those
who were confided to their care. But we should be much mistaken if we
imagined that these men proceeded according to what we call scientific
combinations. Generally simple and rude, they acted according to the
impulses of their generous hearts, only guided by the wisdom and good
sense of the father of a family in the management of his domestic
affairs: never did these men adopt for their rule the wretched
subtilties which we call theories, the crude mass of ideas which we
disguise under the pompous name of science. Were the most distinguished
days of Greece those of Plato and Aristotle? The proud Romans, who
conquered the world, certainly had not the extent and variety of
knowledge of the Augustan age; and yet who would exchange the times or
the men?
Modern times also can show important evidences of the sterility of
science in creating social institutions; which is the more evident as
the practical effects of the natural sciences are the more visible. It
seems that in the latter sciences man has a power which he has not in
the former; although, when the matter is fully examined, the difference
does not appear so great as at the first view.
Let us briefly compare their respective results.
When man seeks to apply the knowledge which he has acquired of the
great laws of nature, he finds himself compelled to pay respect to
her; as, whatever might be his wishes, his weak arm could not cause
any great _bouleversement_, he is obliged to make his attempts limited
in extent, and the desire of success induces him to act in conformity
with the laws which govern the bodies he has to do with. It is quite
otherwise with the application made of the social sciences. There man
is able to act directly and immediately on society itself, on its
eternal foundations; he does not consider himself necessarily bound
to make his attempts on a small scale, or to respect the eternal laws
of society; he is able, on the contrary, to imagine those laws as
he pleases, indulge in as many subtilties as he thinks proper, and
bring about disasters which humanity laments. Let us remember the
extravagances which have found favor, with respect to nature, in the
schools of philosophy, ancient and modern, and we shall see what would
have become of the admirable machine of the universe, if philosophers
had had full power over it. Descartes said, "Give me matter and motion,
and I will form a world!" He could not derange an atom in the system of
the universe. Rousseau, in his turn, dreamed of placing society on a
new basis, and he upset the social state. It must not be forgotten that
science, properly so called, has little power in the organization of
society: this ought to be remembered in modern times, when it boasts so
much of its pretended fertility. It attributes to its own labors what
is the fruit of the lapse of ages, of the instinctive law of nations,
and sometimes of the inspirations of genius; now neither this instinct
of nations nor genius at all resembles science.
But without pushing any further these general considerations, which
are, nevertheless, very useful in leading us to a knowledge of man,
what could be hoped from the false light of science which was preserved
in the ruins of the ancient schools at the time we are speaking of?
However limited the knowledge of the ancient philosophers, even the
most distinguished, may have been on these subjects, we must allow that
the names of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle command some degree of
respect, and that amid their errors and mistakes they give us thoughts
which are really worthy of their lofty genius. But when Christianity
appeared, the germs of knowledge planted by them had been destroyed;
dreams had taken the place of high and fruitful thoughts, the love of
disputation had replaced that of wisdom, sophistry and subtilties had
been substituted for mature judgment and severe reasoning. The ancient
schools had been upset, others as sterile as they were strange had
been formed out of their ruins; on all sides there appeared a swarm
of sophists like the impure insects which announce the corruption
of a dead body. The Church has preserved for us a very valuable
means of judging of the science of that time, in the history of the
early heresies. Without speaking of what therein deserves all our
indignation, as, for example, their profound immorality, can we find
any thing more empty, absurd, or pitiable?[14]
The Roman legislation, so praiseworthy for its justice and equity, its
wisdom and prudence, and much as it deserves to be regarded as one of
the most precious ornaments of ancient civilization, was yet incapable
of preventing the dissolution with which society was threatened.
Never did it owe its safety to jurisconsults; so great a work is
beyond the sphere of action of jurisprudence. Let us suppose the laws
as perfect as possible, jurisprudence carried to the highest point,
jurisconsults animated by the purest feelings and guided by the most
honest intentions, what would all this avail if the heart of society is
corrupt, if moral principles have lost their force, if manners are in
continual opposition with laws? Let us consider the picture of Roman
manners such as their own historians have painted them; we shall not
find even a reflection of the equity, justice, and good sense which
made the Roman laws deserve the glorious name of written reason.
To give a proof of impartiality, I purposely omit the blemishes from
which the Roman law was certainly not exempt, for I do not desire
to be accused of wishing to lower every thing which is not the work
of Christianity. Yet I must not pass over in silence the important
fact, that it is by no means true that Christianity had no share in
perfecting the jurisprudence of Rome; I do not mean merely during the
period of the Christian emperors, which does not admit of a doubt, but
even at a prior period. It is certain that some time before the coming
of Jesus Christ the number of the Roman laws was very considerable,
and that their study and arrangement already occupied the attention of
many of the most illustrious men. We know from Suetonius (_In Cæsar._
c. 44) that Julius Cæsar had undertaken the extremely useful task of
condensing into a small number of books those which were the most
select and necessary among the immense collection of laws; a similar
idea occurred to Cicero, who wrote a book on the methodical digest of
the civil law (_de jure civili in arte redigendo_), as Aulus Gellius
attests. (_Noct. Att._ lib. i. c. 22.) According to Tacitus, this work
also occupied the attention of the Emperor Augustus. Certainly these
projects show that legislation was not in its infancy; but it is not
the less true that the Roman law, as we possess it, is in great part
the product of later ages. Many of the most famous jurists, whose
opinions form a considerable part of the law, lived long after the
coming of Jesus Christ. As to the constitutions of the emperors, their
very names remind us of the time when they were digested.
These facts being established, I shall observe that it does not follow
that because the emperors and jurists were pagans, the Christian
ideas had no influence on their works. The number of Christians was
immense in all places; the cruelty alone with which they had been
persecuted, the heroic courage which they had displayed in the face
of torments and death, must have drawn upon them the attention of the
whole world; and it is impossible that this should not have excited,
among men of reflection, curiosity enough to examine what this new
religion taught its proselytes. The reading of the apologies for
Christianity already written in the first ages with so much force of
reasoning and eloquence, the works of various kinds published by the
early Fathers, the homilies of Bishops to their people, contain so
much wisdom, breathe such a love for truth and justice, and proclaim
so loudly the eternal principles of morality, that it was impossible
for their influence not to be felt even by those who condemned the
religion of Christ. When doctrines having for their object the greatest
questions which affect man are spread everywhere, propagated with
fervent zeal, received with love by a considerable number of disciples,
and maintained by the talent and knowledge of illustrious men, these
doctrines make a profound impression in all directions, and affect
even those who warmly combat them. Their influence in this case is
imperceptible, but it is not the less true and real. They act like the
exhalations which impregnate the atmosphere; with the air we inhale
sometimes death, and sometimes a salutary odor which purifies and
strengthens us.
Such must necessarily have been the case with a doctrine which was
preached in so extraordinary a manner, propagated with so much
rapidity, and the truth of which, sealed by torrents of blood, was
defended by writers such as Justin, Clement of Alexandria, Irenæus,
and Tertullian. The profound wisdom, the ravishing beauty of these
doctrines, explained by the Christian doctors, must have called
attention to the sources whence they flowed; it was natural that
curiosity thus excited should put the holy Scriptures into the hands
of many philosophers and jurists. Would it be strange if Epictetus had
imbibed some of the doctrines of the Sermon on the Mount, and if the
oracles of jurisprudence had imperceptibly received the inspiration
of a religion whose power, spreading in a wonderful manner, took
possession of all ranks of society? Burning zeal for truth and justice,
the spirit of brotherhood, grand ideas of the dignity of man, the
continued themes of Christian instruction, could not remain confined
among the children of the Church. More or less rapidly they penetrated
all classes; and when, by the conversion of Constantine, they acquired
political influence and imperial authority, it was only the repetition
of an ordinary phenomenon; when a system has become very powerful
in the social order, it ends by exerting an empire, or at least an
influence, in the political.
I leave these observations to the judgment of thinking men with perfect
confidence; I am sure that if they do not adopt them, at least they
will not consider them unworthy of reflection. We live at a time
fruitful in great events, and when important revolutions have taken
place; therefore we are better able to understand the immense effects
of indirect and slow influences, the powerful ascendency of ideas, and
the irresistible force with which doctrines work their way.
To this want of vital principles capable of regenerating society,
to all those elements of dissolution which society contained within
itself, was joined another evil of no slight importance,--the vice
of its political organization. The world being under the yoke of
Rome, hundreds of nations differing in manners and customs were
heaped together in confusion, like spoils on the field of battle,
and constrained to form a factitious body, like trophies placed upon
a spear. The unity of the government being violent, could not be
advantageous; and moreover, as it was despotic, from the emperor down
to the lowest proconsul, it will be seen that it could not produce
any other result than the debasement and degradation of nations, and
that it was impossible for them to display that elevation and energy
of character which are the precious fruit of a feeling of self-dignity
and love for national independence. If Rome had preserved her ancient
manners, if she had retained in her bosom warriors as celebrated for
the simplicity and austerity of their lives as for the renown of their
victories, some of the qualities of the conquerors might have been
communicated to the conquered, as a young and robust heart reanimates
with its vigor a body attenuated by disease. Unfortunately such was not
the case. The Fabiuses, the Camilluses, the Scipios, would not have
acknowledged their unworthy posterity; Rome, the mistress of the world,
like a slave, was trodden under the feet of monsters who mounted to the
throne by perjury and violence, stained their sceptres with corruption
and cruelty, and fell by the hands of assassins. The authority of the
Senate and people had disappeared; only vain imitations of them were
left, _vestigia morientis libertatis_, as Tacitus calls them, vestiges
of expiring liberty; and this royal people, who formerly disposed of
kingdoms, consulships, legions, and all, then thought only of two
things, food and games,
"Qui dabat olim
Imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se
Continet, atque duas tantum res anxius optat,
Panem et Circenses."--JUVENAL, _Satire_ X.
At length, in the plenitude of time Christianity appeared; and without
announcing any change in political forms, without intermeddling in
the temporal and earthly, it brought to mankind a twofold salvation,
by calling them to the path of eternal felicity, but at the same time
bountifully supplying them with the only means of preservation from
social dissolution, the germ of a regeneration slow and pacific,
but grand, immense, and lasting, and secure from the revolutions of
ages; and this preservative against social dissolution, this germ
of invaluable improvements, was a pure and lofty doctrine, diffused
among all mankind, without exception of age, sex, and condition, as
the rain which falls like a mild dew on an arid and thirsty soil. No
religion has ever equalled Christianity in knowledge of the hidden
means of influencing man; none has ever, when doing so, paid so high
a compliment to his dignity; and Christianity has always adopted the
principle, that the first step in gaining possession of the whole man
is that of gaining his mind; and that it is necessary, in order either
to destroy evil or to effect good, to adopt intellectual means: thereby
it has given a mortal blow to the systems of violence which prevailed
before its existence; it has proclaimed the wholesome truth, that in
influencing men, the weakest and most unworthy method is force; a
fruitful and beneficial truth, which opened to humanity a new and happy
future. Only since the Christian era do we find the lessons of the
sublimest philosophy taught to all classes of the people, at all times
and in all places. The loftiest truths relating to God and man, the
rules of the purest morality, are not communicated to a chosen number
of disciples in hidden and mysterious instructions; the philosophy of
Christianity has been bolder; it has ventured to reveal to man the
whole naked truth, and that in public, with a loud voice, and that
generous boldness which is the inseparable companion of the truth.
"That which I tell you in the dark, speak ye in the light; and that
which you hear in the ear, preach ye upon the housetop." (Matt. x. 27.)
As soon as Christianity and Paganism met face to face, the superiority
of the former was rendered palpable, not only by its doctrines
themselves, but by the manner in which it propagated them. It might
easily be imagined that a religion so wise and pure in its teachings,
and which, in propagating them, addressed itself directly to the mind
and heart, must quickly drive from its usurped dominion the religion
of imposture and falsehood. And, indeed, what did Paganism do for
the good of man? What moral truths did it teach? How did it check
the corruption of manners? "As to morals," says St. Augustine, "why
have not the gods chosen to take care of those of their adorers, and
prevent their irregularities? As to the true God, it is with justice
that He has neglected those who did not serve Him. But whence comes
it that those gods, the prohibition of whose worship is complained of
by ungrateful men, have not established laws to lead their adorers to
virtue? Was it not reasonable that, as men undertook their mysteries
and sacrifices, the gods, on their side, should undertake to regulate
the manners and actions of men? It is replied, that no one is wicked
but because he wishes to be so. Who doubts this? but the gods ought not
on that account to conceal from their worshippers precepts that might
serve to make them practise virtue. They were, on the contrary, under
the obligation of publishing those precepts aloud, of admonishing and
rebuking sinners by their prophets; of publicly threatening punishment
to those who did evil, and promising rewards to those who did well.
Was there ever heard, in the temples of the gods, a loud and generous
voice teaching any thing of the kind?" (_De Civit._ lib. ii. c. 4.)
The holy doctor afterwards paints a dark picture of the infamies and
abominations which were committed in the spectacles and sacred games
celebrated in honor of the gods--games and shows at which he had
himself assisted in his youth; he continues thus: "Thence it comes
that these divinities have taken no care to regulate the morals of the
cities and nations who adore them, or to avert by their threats those
dreadful evils which injure not only fields and vineyards, houses and
properties, or the body which is subject to the mind, but the mind
itself, the directress of the body, which was drenched with their
iniquities. Or if it be pretended that they did make such menaces,
let them be shown and proved to us. But let there not be alleged a
few secret words whispered in the ears of a small number of persons,
and which, with a great deal of mystery, were to teach virtue. It
is necessary to point out, to name the places consecrated to the
assemblies--not those in which were celebrated games with lascivious
words and gestures; not those feasts called _fuites_, and which
were solemnized with the most unbridled license; but the assemblies
where the people were instructed in the precepts of the gods for the
repression of avarice, moderating ambition, restraining immodesty;
those where these unfortunate beings learn what Perseus desires them
to know, when he says, in severe language, 'Learn, O unhappy mortals,
the reason of things, what we are, why we come into the world, what
we ought to do, how miserable is the term of our career, what bounds
we ought to prescribe to ourselves in the pursuit of riches, what use
we ought to make of them, what we owe to our neighbor, in fine, the
obligations we owe to the rank we occupy among men.' Let them tell us
in what places they have been accustomed to instruct the people in
these things by order of the gods; let them show us these places, as
we show them churches built for this purpose wherever the Christian
religion has been established." (_De Civit._ lib. ii. c. 6.) This
divine religion was too deeply acquainted with the heart of man ever
to forget the weakness and inconstancy which characterize it; and
hence it has ever been her invariable rule of conduct unceasingly
to inculcate to him, with untiring patience, the salutary truths on
which his temporal well-being and eternal happiness depend. Man easily
forgets moral truths when he is not constantly reminded of them; or
if they remain in his mind, they are there like sterile seeds, and do
not fertilize his heart. It is good and highly salutary for parents
constantly to communicate this instruction to their children, and that
it should be made the principal object of private education; but it
is necessary, moreover, that there should be a public ministry, never
losing sight of it, diffusing it among all classes and ages, repairing
the negligences of families, and reviving recollections and impressions
which the passions and time constantly efface.
This system of constant preaching and instruction, practised at all
times and in all places by the Catholic Church, is so important for
the enlightenment and morality of nations, that it must be looked
upon as a great good, that the first Protestants, in spite of their
desire to destroy all the practices of the Church, have nevertheless
preserved that of preaching. We need not be insensible on this account
to the evils produced at certain times by the declamation of some
factious or fanatical ministers; but as unity had been broken, as
the people had been precipitated into the perilous paths of schism,
we say that it must have been extremely useful for the preservation
of the most important notions with respect to God and man and the
fundamental maxims of morality, that such truths should be frequently
explained to the people by men who had long studied them in the sacred
Scriptures. No doubt the mortal blow given to the hierarchy by the
Protestant system, and the degradation of the priesthood which was the
consequence, have deprived its preachers of the sacred characteristics
of the Holy Spirit; no doubt it is a great obstacle to the efficacy of
their preachers, that they cannot present themselves as the anointed
of the Lord, and that they are only, as an able writer has said, _men
clothed in black, who mount the pulpit every Sunday to speak reasonable
things_; but at least the people continue to hear some fragments of
the excellent moral discourses contained in the sacred Scriptures,
they have often before their eyes the edifying examples spread over
the Old and New Testament, and, what is still more precious, they are
reminded frequently of the events in the life of Jesus Christ,--of
that admirable life, the model of all perfection, which, even when
considered in a human point of view, is acknowledged by all to be the
purest sanctity _par excellence_, the noblest code of morality that was
ever seen, the realization of the finest _beau idéal_ that philosophy
in its loftiest thoughts has ever conceived under human form, and which
poetry has ever imagined in its most brilliant dreams. This we say is
useful and highly salutary; for it will always be salutary for nations
to be nourished with the wholesome food of moral truths, and to be
excited to virtue by such sublime examples.
CHAPTER XV.
DIFFICULTIES WHICH CHRISTIANITY HAD TO OVERCOME IN THE WORK OF SOCIAL
REGENERATION.--OF SLAVERY.--COULD IT BE DESTROYED WITH MORE PROMPTNESS
THAN IT WAS BY CHRISTIANITY?
Although the Church attached the greatest importance to the propagation
of truth, although she was convinced that to destroy the shapeless
mass of immorality and degradation that met her sight, her first care
should be to expose error to the dissolving fire of true doctrines,
she did not confine herself to this; but, descending to real life,
and following a system full of wisdom and prudence, she acted in such
a manner as to enable humanity to taste the precious fruit which the
doctrines of Jesus Christ produce even in temporal things. The Church
was not only a _great and fruitful school; she was also a regenerative
association_; she did not diffuse her general doctrines by throwing
them abroad at hazard, merely hoping that they would fructify with
time; she developed them in all their relations, applied them to all
subjects, inoculated laws and manners with them, and realized them in
institutions which afforded silent but eloquent instructions to future
generations. Nowhere was the dignity of man acknowledged, slavery
reigned everywhere; degraded woman was dishonored by the corruption of
manners, and debased by the tyranny of man. The feelings of humanity
were trodden under foot, infants were abandoned, the sick and aged were
neglected, barbarity and cruelty were carried to the highest pitch
of atrocity in the prevailing laws of war; in fine, on the summit of
the social edifice was seen an odious tyranny, sustained by military
force, and looking down with an eye of contempt on the unfortunate
nations that lay in fetters at its feet.
In such a state of things it certainly was no slight task to remove
error, to reform and improve manners, abolish slavery, correct the
vices of legislation, impose a check on power, and make it harmonize
with the public interest, give new life to individuals, and reorganize
family and society; and yet nothing less than this was done by the
Church. Let us begin with slavery. This is a matter which is the more
to be fathomed, as it is a question eminently calculated to excite
our curiosity and affect our hearts. What abolished slavery among
Christian nations? Was it Christianity? Was it Christianity alone,
by its lofty ideas on human dignity, by its maxims and its spirit of
fraternity and charity, and also by its prudent, gentle, and beneficent
conduct? I trust I shall prove that it was. No one now ventures to
doubt that the Church exercised a powerful influence on the abolition
of slavery; this is a truth too clear and evident to be questioned.
M. Guizot acknowledges the successful efforts with which the Church
labored to improve the social condition. He says: "No one doubts that
she struggled obstinately against the great vices of the social state;
for example, against slavery." But, in the next line, and as if he
were reluctant to establish without any restriction a fact which must
necessarily excite in favor of the Catholic Church the sympathies of
all humanity, he adds: "It has been often repeated that the abolition
of slavery in the modern world was entirely due to Christianity. I
believe that this is saying too much; slavery existed for a long time
in the bosom of Christian society without exciting astonishment or much
opposition." M. Guizot is much mistaken if he expects to prove that the
abolition of slavery was not due exclusively to Christianity, by the
mere representation that slavery existed for a long time amid Christian
society. To proceed logically, he must first see whether the sudden
abolition of it was possible, if the spirit of peace and order which
animates the Church could allow her rashly to enter on an enterprise
which, without gaining the desired object, might have convulsed the
world. The number of slaves was immense; slavery was deeply rooted in
laws, manners, ideas, and interests, individual and social; a fatal
system, no doubt, but the eradication of which all at once it would
have been rash to attempt, as its roots had penetrated deeply and
spread widely in the bowels of the land.
In a census of Athens there were reckoned 20,000 citizens and 40,000
slaves; in the Peloponnesian war no less than 20,000 passed over to
the enemy. This we learn from Thucydides. The same author tells us,
that at Chio the number of slaves was very considerable, and that
their defection, when they passed over to the Athenians, reduced their
masters to great extremities. In general, the number of slaves was so
very great everywhere that the public safety was often compromised
thereby. Therefore it was necessary to take precautions to prevent
their acting in concert. "It is necessary," says Plato (_Dial._ 6,
_de Leg._), "that slaves should not be of the same country, and that
they should differ as much as possible in manners and desires; for
experience has many times shown, in the frequent defections which have
been witnessed, among the Messenians, and in other cities that had a
great number of slaves of the same language, that great evils commonly
result from it." Aristotle in his Government (b. i. c. 5) gives
various rules as to the manner in which slaves ought to be treated; it
is remarkable that he is of the same opinion as Plato, for he says:
"That there should not be many slaves of the same country." He tells
us in his Politics (b. ii. c. 7), "That the Thessalians were reduced
to great embarrassments on account of the number of their Penestes,
a sort of slaves; the same thing happened to the Spartans on account
of the Helotes. The Penestes have often rebelled in Thessaly; and the
Spartans, during their reverses, have been menaced by the plots of the
Helotes." This was a difficulty which required the serious attention
of politicians. They did not know how to prevent the inconveniences
induced by this immense multitude of slaves. Aristotle laments the
difficulty there was in finding the best way of treating them; and we
see that it was the subject of grave cares; I will transcribe his own
words: "In truth," he says, "the manner in which this class of men
ought to be treated is a thing difficult and full of embarrassment; for
if they are treated mildly, they become insolent, and wish to become
equal to their masters; if they are treated harshly, they conceive
hatred, and conspire."
At Rome, the multitude of slaves was such that when, at a certain
period, it was proposed to give them a distinctive dress, the Senate
opposed the measure, fearing that if they knew their own numbers the
public safety would be endangered; and certainly this precaution was
not vain, for already, a long time before, the slaves had caused great
commotions in Italy. Plato, in support of the advice which I have just
quoted, states, "That the slaves had frequently devastated Italy with
piracy and robbery." In more recent times Spartacus, at the head of
an army of slaves, was the terror of that country for some time, and
engaged the best generals of Rome. The number of slaves had reached
such an excess, that many masters reckoned them by hundreds. When the
Prefect of Rome, Pedanius Secundus, was assassinated, four hundred
slaves who belonged to him were put to death. (_Tac. Ann._ b. xiv.)
Pudentila, the wife of Apulcius, had so many that she gave four hundred
to her son. They became a matter of pomp, and the Romans vied with each
other in their number. When asked this question, _quod pascit servos_,
how many slaves does he keep, according to the expression of Juvenal
(_Sat._ 3, v. 140), they wished to be able to show a great number. The
thing had reached such a pass that, according to Pliny, the cortege of
a family resembled an army.
It was not only in Greece and Italy that this abundance of slaves was
found; at Tyre they arose against their masters, and, by their immense
numbers, they were able to massacre them all. If we turn our eyes
towards barbarous nations, without speaking of some the best known, we
learn from Herodotus that the Scythians, on their return from Media,
found their slaves in rebellion, and were compelled to abandon their
country to them. Cæsar in his Commentaries (_de Bello Gall._ lib. vi.)
bears witness to the multitude of slaves in Gaul. As their number was
everywhere so considerable, it is clear that it was quite impossible
to preach freedom to them without setting the world on fire. Unhappily
we have, in modern times, the means of forming a comparison which,
although on an infinitely smaller scale, will answer our purpose. In
a colony where black slaves abound, who would venture to set them at
liberty all at once? Now how much are the difficulties increased,
what colossal dimensions does not the danger assume, when you have
to do, not with a colony, but with the world? Their intellectual and
moral condition rendered them incapable of turning such an advantage
to their own benefit and that of society; in their debasement, urged
on by the hatred and the desire of vengeance which ill-treatment had
excited in their minds, they would have repeated, on a large scale, the
bloody scenes with which they had already, in former times, stained
the pages of history; and what would then have happened? Society,
thus endangered, would have been put on its guard against principles
favoring liberty; henceforth it would have regarded them with prejudice
and suspicion, and the chains of servitude, instead of being loosened,
would have been the more firmly riveted. Out of this immense mass of
rude, savage men, set at liberty without preparation, it was impossible
for social organization to arise; for social organization is not the
creation of a moment, especially with such elements as these; and in
this case, since it would have been necessary to choose between slavery
and the annihilation of social order, the instinct of preservation,
which animates society as well as all beings, would undoubtedly have
brought about the continuation of slavery where it still existed, and
its re-establishment where it had been destroyed. Those who complain
that Christianity did not accomplish the work of abolishing slavery
with sufficient promptitude, should remember that, even supposing a
sudden or very rapid emancipation possible, and to say nothing of the
bloody revolutions which would necessarily have been the result, the
mere force of circumstances, by the insurmountable difficulties which
it would have raised, would have rendered such a measure absolutely
useless. Let us lay aside all social and political considerations, and
apply ourselves to the economical question. First, it was necessary to
change all the relations of property. The slaves played a principal
part therein; they cultivated the land, and worked as mechanics; in a
word, among them was distributed all that is called labor; and this
distribution being made on the supposition of slavery, to take away
this would have made a disruption, the ultimate consequences of which
could not be estimated. I will suppose that violent spoliations had
taken place, that a repartition or equalization of property had been
attempted, that lands had been distributed to the emancipated, and
that the richest proprietors had been compelled to hold the pickaxe
and the plough; I will suppose all these absurdities and mad dreams
to be realized, and I say that this would have been no remedy; for we
must not forget that the production of the means of subsistence must
be in proportion to the wants of those they are intended to support,
and that this proportion would have been destroyed by the abolition of
slavery. The production was regulated, not exactly according to the
number of the individuals who then existed, but on the supposition that
the majority were slaves; now we know that the wants of a freeman are
greater than those of a slave.
If at the present time, after eighteen centuries, when ideas have
been corrected, manners softened, laws ameliorated; when nations
and governments have been taught by experience; when so many public
establishments for the relief of indigence have been founded; when so
many systems have been tried for the division of labor; when riches are
distributed in a more equitable manner; if it is still so difficult to
prevent a great number of men from becoming the victims of dreadful
misery, if that is the terrible evil, which, like a fatal nightmare,
torments society, and threatens its future, what would have been the
effect of a universal emancipation, at the beginning of Christianity,
at a time when slaves were not considered by the law as _persons_,
but as _things_; when their conjugal union was not looked upon as a
marriage; when their children were property, and subject to the same
rules as the progeny of animals; when, in fine, the unhappy slave
was ill-treated, tormented, sold, or put to death, according to the
caprices of his master? Is it not evident that the cure of such evils
was the work of ages? Do not humanity and political and social economy
unanimously tell us this? If mad attempts had been made, the slaves
themselves would have been the first to protest against them; they
would have adhered to a servitude which at least secured to them food
and shelter; they would have rejected a liberty which was inconsistent
even with their existence. Such is the order of nature: man, above
all, requires wherewith to live; and the means of subsistence being
wanting, liberty itself would cease to please him. It is not necessary
to allude to the individual examples of this, which we have in
abundance; entire nations have given signal proofs of this truth.
When misery is excessive, it is difficult for it not to bring with it
degradation, stifle the most generous sentiments, and take away the
magic of the words independence and liberty. "The common people," says
Cæsar, speaking of the Gauls (lib. vi. _de Bello Gall._), "are almost
on a level with slaves; of themselves they venture nothing; their
voice is of no avail. There are many of that class, who, loaded with
debts and tributes, or oppressed by the powerful, give themselves up
into servitude to the nobles, who exercise over those who have thus
delivered themselves up the same rights as over slaves." Examples of
the same kind are not wanting in modern times; we know that in China
there is a great number of slaves whose servitude is owing entirely to
the incapacity of themselves or their fathers to provide for their own
subsistence.
These observations, which are supported by facts that no one can deny,
evidently show that Christianity has displayed profound wisdom in
proceeding with so much caution in the abolition of slavery.
It did all that was possible in favor of human liberty; if it did
not advance more rapidly in the work, it was because it could not do
so without compromitting the undertaking--without creating serious
obstacles to the desired emancipation. Such is the result at which we
arrive when we have thoroughly examined the charges made against some
proceedings of the Church. We look into them by the light of reason,
we compare them with the facts, and in the end we are convinced that
the conduct blamed is perfectly in accordance with the dictates of the
highest wisdom and the counsels of the soundest prudence. What, then,
does M. Guizot mean, when, after having allowed that Christianity
labored with earnestness for the abolition of slavery, he accuses it
of having consented for a long time to its continuance? Is it logical
thence to infer that it is not true that this immense benefit is due
exclusively to Christianity? That slavery endured for a long time in
presence of the Church is true; but it was always declining, and it
only lasted as long as was necessary to realize the benefit without
violence--without a shock--without compromitting its universality and
its continuation. Moreover, we ought to subtract from the time of its
continuance many ages, during which the Church was often proscribed,
always regarded with aversion, and totally unable to exert a direct
influence on the social organization. We ought also, to a great extent,
to make exception of later times, as the Church had only begun to exert
a direct and public influence, when the irruption of the northern
barbarians took place, which, together with the corruption which
infected the empire and spread in a frightful manner, produced such
a perturbation, such a confused mass of languages, customs, manners,
and laws, that it was almost impossible to make the regulating power
produce salutary fruits. If, in later times, it has been difficult
to destroy feudality; if there remain to this day, after ages of
struggles, the remnants of that constitution; if the slave-trade,
although limited to certain countries and circumstances, still merits
the universal reprobation which is raised throughout the world against
its infamy; how can we venture to express our astonishment--how can
we venture to make it a reproach against the Church, that slavery
continued some ages after she had proclaimed men's fraternity with each
other, and their equality before God?
CHAPTER XVI.
IDEAS AND MANNERS OF ANTIQUITY WITH RESPECT TO SLAVERY.--THE CHURCH
BEGINS BY IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF SLAVES.
Happily the Catholic Church was wiser than philosophers; she knew
how to confer on humanity the benefit of emancipation, without
injustice or revolution. She knew how to regenerate society, but not
in rivers of blood. Let us see what was her conduct with respect to
the abolition of slavery. Much has been already said of the spirit of
love and fraternity which animates Christianity, and that is sufficient
to show that its influence in this work must have been great. But
perhaps sufficient care has not been taken in seeking the positive
and practical means which the Church employed for this end. In the
darkness of ages, in circumstances so complicated or various, will it
be possible to discover any traces of the path pursued by the Catholic
Church in accomplishing the destruction of that slavery under which a
large portion of the human race groaned? Will it be possible to do any
thing more than praise her Christian charity? Will it be possible to
point out a plan, a system, and to prove the existence and development
of it, not by referring to a few expressions, to elevated thoughts,
generous sentiments, and the isolated actions of a few illustrious men,
but by exhibiting positive facts, and historical documents, which show
what were the _esprit de corps_ and tendency of the Church? I believe
that this may be done, and I have no doubt that I shall be able to do
it, by availing myself of what is most convincing and decisive in the
matter, viz. the monuments of ecclesiastical legislation.
In the first place, it will not be amiss to remember what I have
already pointed out, viz. that when we have to do with the conduct,
designs, and tendencies of the Church, it is by no means necessary to
suppose that these designs were conceived in their fullest extent by
the mind of any individual in particular, nor that the merit and all
the prudence of that conduct was understood by those who took part
in it. It is not even necessary to suppose that the first Christians
understood all the force of the tendencies of Christianity with respect
to the abolition of slavery. What requires to be shown is, that the
result has been obtained by the doctrines and conduct of the Church, as
with Catholics, (although they know how to esteem at their just value
the merit and greatness of each man,) individuals, when the Church is
concerned, disappear. Their thoughts and will are nothing; the spirit
which animates, vivifies, and directs the Church, is not the spirit of
man, but that of God himself. Those who belong not to our faith will
employ other names; but at least we shall agree in this, that facts,
considered in this way, above the mind and the will of individuals,
preserve much better their real dimensions; and thus the great chain of
events in the study of history remains unbroken. Let it be said that
the conduct of the Church was inspired and directed by God; or that it
was the result of instinct; that it was the development of a tendency
contained in her doctrines; we will not now stay to consider the
expressions which may be used by Catholics, or by philosophers; what we
have to show is, that this instinct was noble and well-directed; that
this tendency had a great object in view, and knew how to attain it.
The first thing that Christianity did for slaves, was to destroy the
errors which opposed, not only their universal emancipation, but even
the improvement of their condition; that is, the first force which
she employed in the attack was, according to her custom, the _force
of ideas_. This first step was the more necessary, as the same thing
applies to all other evils, as well as to slavery; every social evil is
always accompanied by some error which produces or foments it. There
existed not only the oppression and degradation of a large portion of
the human race, but, moreover, an accredited error, which tended more
and more to lower that portion of humanity. According to this opinion,
slaves were a mean race, far below the dignity of freemen: they were a
race degraded by Jupiter himself, marked by a stamp of humiliation, and
predestined to their state of abjection and debasement. A detestable
doctrine, no doubt, and contradicted by the nature of man, by history
and experience; but which, nevertheless, reckoned distinguished men
among its defenders, and which we see proclaimed for ages, to the
shame of humanity and the scandal of reason, until Christianity came
to destroy it, by undertaking to vindicate the rights of man. Homer
tells us (_Odys._ 17) that "Jupiter has deprived slaves of half the
mind." We find in Plato a trace of the same doctrine, although he
expresses himself, as he is accustomed to do, by the mouth of another;
he ventures to advance the following: "It is said that, in the mind
of slaves, there is nothing sound or complete; and that a prudent man
ought not to trust that class of persons; which is equally attested by
the wisest of our poets." Here Plato cites the above-quoted passage
of Homer (_Dial._ 8, _de Legibus_). But it is in the Politics of
Aristotle that we find this degrading doctrine in all its deformity
and nakedness. Some have wished to excuse this philosopher, but in
vain; his own words condemn him without appeal. In the first chapter
of his work, he explains the constitution of the family, and attempts
to state the relations of husband and wife, of master and slave; he
states that, as the wife is by nature different from the husband, so
is the slave from the master. These are his words: "Thus the woman and
the slave are distinguished by nature itself." Let it not be said that
this is an expression that escaped from the pen of the writer; it was
stated with a full knowledge, and is a _résumé_ of his theory. In the
third chapter, where he continues to analyze the elements which compose
the family, after having stated "that a complete family is formed of
free persons and slaves," he alludes particularly to the latter, and
begins by combating an opinion which he thinks too favorable to them:
"There are some," he says, "who think that slavery is a thing out of
the order of nature, since it is the law itself which makes some free
and others slaves, while nature makes no distinction." Before combating
this opinion, he explains the relations between master and slave, by
using the comparison of artist and instrument, and that of the soul
and body; he continues thus: "If we compare man to woman, we find that
the first is superior, therefore he commands; the woman is inferior,
therefore she obeys. The same thing ought to take place among all men.
_Thus it is that those among them who are as inferior with respect to
others, as the body is with respect to the soul, and the animal to man;
those whose powers principally consist in the use of the body, the only
service that can be obtained from them, they are naturally slaves._"
We should imagine, at first sight, that the philosopher spoke only of
idiots; his words would seem to indicate this; but we shall see, by
the context, that such is not his intention. It is evident that if he
spoke only of idiots, he would prove nothing against the opinion which
he desires to combat; for the number of them is nothing with respect to
the generality of men. If he spoke only of idiots, of what use would be
a theory founded on so rare and monstrous an exception?
But we have no need of conjectures as to the real intention of the
philosopher, he himself takes care to explain it to us, and tells us at
the same time for what reason he ventures to make use of expressions
which seem, at first, to place the matter on another level. His
intention is nothing less than to attribute to nature the express
design of producing men of two kinds; one born for slavery, the other
for liberty. The passage is too important and too curious to be
omitted. It is this: "Nature has taken care to create the bodies of
free men different from those of slaves; the bodies of the latter are
strong, and proper for the most necessary labors: those of freemen, on
the contrary, well formed, although ill adapted for servile works, are
proper for civil life, which consists in the management of things in
war and peace. Nevertheless, the contrary often happens. To a free man
is given the body of a slave; and to a slave the soul of a free man.
There is no doubt that, if the bodies of some men were as much more
perfect than others, as we see is the case in the image of the Gods,
all the world would be of opinion that these men should be obeyed by
those who had not the same beauty. If this is true in speaking of the
body, it is still more so in speaking of the soul; although it is not
so easy to see the beauty of the soul as that of the body. Thus it
cannot be doubted that there are some men born for liberty, as others
are for slavery; a slavery which is not only useful to the slaves
themselves, but, moreover, just." A miserable philosophy, which, in
order to support that degraded state, was obliged to have recourse to
such subtilties, and ventured to impute to nature the intention of
creating different castes, some born to command and others to obey; a
cruel philosophy, which thus labored to break the bonds of fraternity
with which the Author of nature has desired to knit together the
human race, pretending to raise a barrier between man and man, and
inventing theories to support inequality; not that inequality which is
the necessary result of all social organization, but an inequality so
terrible and degrading as that of slavery.
Christianity raises its voice, and by the first words which it
pronounces on slaves, declares them equal to all men in the dignity
of nature, and in the participation of the graces which the Divine
Spirit diffuses upon earth. We must remark the care with which St.
Paul insists on this point; it seems as if he had in view those
degrading distinctions which have arisen from a fatal forgetfulness
of the dignity of man. The Apostle never forgets to inculcate to
the faithful that there is no difference between the slave and the
freeman. "For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body,
whether Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free." (1 Cor. xii. 13.)
"For you are all children of God, by faith in Jesus Christ. For as
many of you as have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ. There
is neither Jew nor Greek; _there is neither bond or free_; there is
neither male or female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal.
iii. 26-28.) "Where there is neither Gentile nor Jew, circumcision
nor uncircumcision, barbarian or Scythian, bond or free; but Christ
is all and in all." (Colos. iii. 11.) The heart dilates at the sound
of the voice thus loudly proclaiming the great principles of holy
fraternity and equality. After having heard the oracles of Paganism
inventing doctrines to degrade still more the unhappy slaves, we seem
to awake from a painful dream, and to find ourselves in the light of
day in the midst of the delightful reality. The imagination delights
to contemplate the millions of men who, bent under degradation and
ignominy, at this voice raised their eyes towards Heaven, and were
animated with hope.
It was with this teaching of Christianity as with all generous and
fruitful doctrines; they penetrate the heart of society, remain
there as a precious germ, and, developed by time, produce an immense
tree which overshadows families and nations. When these doctrines
were diffused among men, they could not fail to be misunderstood and
exaggerated. Thus there were found some who pretended that Christian
freedom was the proclamation of universal freedom. The pleasing words
of Christ easily resounded in the ears of slaves: they heard themselves
declared children of God, and brethren of Jesus Christ; they saw that
there was no distinction made between them and their masters, between
them and the most powerful lords of the earth; is it, then, strange
that men only accustomed to chains, to labor, to every kind of trouble
and degradation, exaggerated the principles of Christian liberty, and
made applications of them which were neither just in themselves, nor
capable of being reduced to practice? We know, from St. Jerome, that
many, hearing themselves called to Christian liberty, believed that
they were thereby freed. Perhaps the Apostle alluded to this error
when, in his first epistle to Timothy, he said, "Whosoever are servants
under the yoke, let them count their masters worthy of all honor; lest
the name of the Lord and His doctrines be blasphemed." (1 Timothy vi.
1.) This error had been so general, that after three centuries it was
still much credited; and the Council of Gangres, held about 324, was
obliged to excommunicate those who, under pretence of piety, taught
that slaves ought to quit their masters, and withdraw from their
service. This was not the teaching of Christianity; besides, we have
clearly shown that it would not have been the right way to achieve
universal emancipation. Therefore this same Apostle, from whose mouth
we have heard such generous language in favor of slaves, frequently
inculcates to them obedience to their masters; but let us observe, that
while fulfilling this duty imposed by the spirit of peace and justice
which animates Christianity, he so explains the motives on which the
obedience of slaves ought to be based, he calls to mind the obligations
of masters in such affecting and energetic words, and establishes so
expressly and conclusively the equality of all men before God, that
we cannot help seeing how great was his compassion for that unhappy
portion of humanity, and how much his ideas on this point differed
from those of a blind and hardened world. There is in the heart of
man a feeling of noble independence, which does not permit him to
subject himself to the will of another, except when he sees that the
claims to his obedience are founded on legitimate titles. If they are
in accordance with reason and justice, and, above all, if they have
their roots in the great objects of human love and veneration, his
understanding is convinced, his heart is gained, and he yields. But
if the reason for the command is only the will of another, if it is
only man against man, these thoughts of equality ferment in his mind,
then the feeling of independence burns in his heart, he puts on a
bold front, and his passions are excited. Therefore, when a willing
and lasting obedience is to be obtained, it is necessary that the man
should be lost sight of in the ruler, and that he should only appear
as the representative of a superior power, or the personification of
the motives which convince the subject of the justice and utility of
his submission; thus he does not obey the will of another because it is
that will, but because it is the representative of a superior power, or
the interpreter of truth and justice; then man no longer considers his
dignity outraged, and obedience becomes tolerable and pleasing.
It is unnecessary to say that such were not the titles on which was
founded the obedience of slaves before Christianity: custom placed them
in the rank of brutes; and the laws, outdoing it if possible, were
expressed in language which cannot be read without indignation. Masters
commanded because such was their pleasure, and slaves were compelled
to obey, not on account of superior motives or moral obligations,
but because they were the property of their masters, horses governed
by the bridle, and mere mechanical machines. Was it, then, strange
that these unhappy beings, drenched with misfortune and ignominy,
conceived and cherished in their hearts that deep rancor, that violent
hatred, and that terrible thirst for vengeance, which at the first
opportunity exploded so fearfully? The horrible massacre of Tyre,
the example and terror of the universe, according to the expression
of Justin; the repeated revolts of the Penestes in Thessaly, of the
Helotes in Sparta; the defections of the slaves of Chio and Athens; the
insurrection under the command of Herdonius, and the terror which it
spread in all the families of Rome; the scenes of blood, the obstinate
and desperate resistance of the bands of Spartacus; was all this any
thing but the natural result of the system of violence, outrage, and
contempt with which slaves were treated? Is it not what we have seen
repeated in modern times, in the catastrophes of the negro colonies?
Such is the nature of man, whoever sows contempt and outrage will
reap fury and vengeance. Christianity was well aware of these truths;
and this is the reason why, while preaching obedience, it took care
to found it on Divine authority. If it confirmed to masters their
rights, it also taught them an exalted sense of their obligation.
Wherever Christian doctrines prevailed, slaves might say: "It is true
that we are unfortunate; birth, poverty, or the reverses of war have
condemned us to misfortune; but at least we are acknowledged as men and
brethren; between us and our masters there is a reciprocity of rights
and obligations." Let us hear the Apostle: "You, slaves, obey those who
are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in
the simplicity of your hearts, as to Jesus Christ himself. _Not serving
to the eye, as it were pleasing men_, but, as the servants of Christ,
doing the will of God from the heart. With a good will serving, as
to the Lord, and not to men. Knowing that whatsoever good things any
man shall do, the same shall he receive from the Lord, _whether he be
bond or free_. And you, masters, do the same thing to them, forbearing
threatenings, knowing that the Lord both of them and you is in heaven,
and _there is no respect of persons with Him_." (Eph. vi. 5-9.) In the
Epistle to the Colossians he inculcates the same doctrine of obedience
anew, basing it on the same motives; for, to console the unfortunate
slaves, he tells them: "You shall receive of the Lord the reward of
inheritance: serve ye the Lord Christ. For he that doth wrong shall
receive for that which he hath done wrongfully, and there is no respect
of persons with God" (Colos. iii. 24, 25); and lower down, addressing
himself to masters: "Masters, do to your servants that which is just
and equal, knowing that you also have a Master in heaven." (iv. 1.)
The diffusion of such beneficent doctrines necessarily tended to
improve greatly the condition of slaves; their immediate effect was to
soften that excessive rigor, that cruelty which would be incredible if
it were not incontrovertibly proved. We know that the master had the
right of life and death, and that he abused that power even to putting
a slave to death from caprice, as Quintus Flaminius did in the midst of
a festival. Another caused one of these unfortunate beings to be thrown
to the fishes, because he broke a glass of crystal. This is related of
Vedius Pollio; and this horrible cruelty was not confined to the circle
of a few families subject to a master devoid of compassion; no, cruelty
was formed into a system, the fatal but necessary result of erroneous
notions on this point, and of the forgetfulness of the sentiments of
humanity. This violent system could only be supported by constantly
trampling upon the slave; and there was no cessation of tyranny until
the day when he, with superior power, attacked his master and destroyed
him. An ancient proverb said, "So many slaves, so many enemies." We
have already seen the ravages committed by men thus rendered savage by
revenge, whenever they were able to break their chains; but certainly,
when it was desired to terrify them, their masters did not yield to
them in ferocity. At Sparta, on one occasion when they feared the
ill-will of the Helotes, they assembled them all at the temple of
Jupiter, and put them to death. (_Thucyd._ b. iv.) At Rome, whenever
a master was assassinated, all his slaves were condemned to death.
We cannot read in Tacitus without a shudder (_Ann._ l. xiv. 43) the
horrible scene which was witnessed when the prefect of the town,
Pedanius Secundus, was assassinated by one of his slaves. Not less than
four hundred were to die; all, according to the ancient custom, were
to be led to punishment. This cruel and pitiable spectacle, in which
so many of the innocent were to suffer death, excited the compassion
of the people, who raised a tumult to prevent this horrid butchery.
The Senate, in doubt, deliberated on the affair, when an orator named
Cassius maintained with energy that it was necessary to complete the
bloody execution, not only in obedience to the ancient custom, but also
because without it it would be impossible to preserve themselves from
the ill-will of the slaves. His words are all dictated by injustice and
tyranny; he sees on all sides dangers and conspiracies; he can imagine
no other safeguards than force and terror. The following passage is
above all remarkable in his speech, as showing in a few words the ideas
and manners of the ancients in this matter: "Our ancestors," says the
senator, "always mistrusted the character of slaves, even of those who,
born on their possessions and in their houses, might be supposed to
have conceived from their cradle an affection for their masters; but as
we have slaves of foreign nations, differing in customs and religion,
this rabble can only be restrained by terror." Cruelty prevailed, the
boldness of the people was repressed, the way was filled with soldiers,
and the four hundred unfortunate beings were led to punishment.
To soften this cruel treatment, to banish these frightful atrocities,
ought to have been the first effect of the Christian doctrines; and
we may rest assured that the Church never lost sight of so important
an object. She devoted all her efforts to improve as much as possible
the condition of slaves; in punishments she caused mildness to be
substituted for cruelty; and what was more important than all, she
labored to put reason in the place of caprice, and to make the
impetuosity of masters yield to the calmness of judges; that is to say,
she every day assimilated the condition of slaves more and more to that
of freemen, by making right and not might reign over them. The Church
never forgot the noble lesson which the Apostle gave when writing to
Philemon, and interceding in favor of a fugitive slave named Onesimus;
he spoke in his favor with a tenderness which this unhappy class had
never before inspired: "I beseech thee," he says to him, "for my son
Onesimus. Receive him as my own bowels; no more as a slave, but as a
most dear brother. If he hath wronged thee in any thing, or is in thy
debt, put that to my account." (Epis. to Phil.) The Council of Elvira,
held in the beginning of the fourth century, subjects the woman who
shall have beaten her slave so as to cause her death in three days to
many years of penance; the Council of Orleans, held in 549, orders
that if a slave guilty of a fault take refuge in a church, he is to be
restored to his master, but not without having exacted from the latter
a promise, confirmed by oath, that he will not do him any harm; that if
the master, in violation of his oath, maltreat the slave, he shall be
separated from the communion of the faithful and the sacraments. This
canon shows us two things: the habitual cruelty of masters, and the
zeal of the Church to soften the treatment of slaves. To restrain this
cruelty, nothing less than an oath was required; and the Church, always
so careful in these things, yet considered the matter important enough
to justify and require the invocation of the sacred name of God.
The favor and protection which the Church granted to slaves rapidly
extended. It seems that in some places the custom was introduced of
requiring a promise on oath, not only that the slave who had taken
refuge in the church should not be ill-treated in his person, but
even that no extraordinary work should be imposed on him, and that he
should wear no distinctive mark. This custom, produced no doubt by
zeal for humanity, but which may have occasioned some inconveniences
by relaxing too much the ties of obedience, and allowing excesses on
the part of slaves, appears to be alluded to in a regulation of the
Council of Epaone (now Abbon, according to some), held about 517. This
Council labors to stop the evil by prescribing a prudent moderation;
but without withdrawing the protection already granted. It ordains,
in the 39th canon, "That if a slave, guilty of any atrocious offence,
takes refuge in a church, he shall be saved from corporal punishment;
but the master shall not be compelled to swear that he will not impose
on him additional labor, or that he will not cut off his hair, in order
to make known his fault." Observe that this restriction is introduced
only in the case when the slave shall have committed a heinous offence,
and even in this case all the power allowed to the master consists in
imposing on the slave extraordinary labor, or distinguishing him by
cutting his hair.
Perhaps such indulgence may be considered excessive; but we must
observe that when abuses are deeply rooted, they cannot be eradicated
without a vigorous effort. At first sight it often appears as if the
limits of prudence were passed; but this apparent excess is only the
inevitable oscillation which is observed before things regain their
right position. The Church had therein no wish to protect crime, or
give unmerited indulgence; her object was to check the violence and
caprice of masters; she did not wish to allow a man to suffer torture
or death because such was the will of another. The establishment of
just laws and legitimate tribunals, the Church has never opposed;
but she has never given her consent to acts of private violence. The
spirit of opposition to the exercise of private force, which includes
social organization, is clearly shown to us in the 15th canon of the
Council of Merida, held in 666. I have already shown that slaves
formed a large portion of property. As the division of labor was made
in conformity with this principle, slaves were absolutely necessary
to those who possessed property, especially when it was considerable.
Now the Church found this to be the case; and as she could not change
the organization of society on a sudden, she was obliged to yield
to necessity, and admit slavery. But if she wished to introduce
improvements in the lot of slaves in general, it was good for her to
set the example herself: this example is found in the canon I have
just quoted. There, after having forbidden the bishops and priests
to maltreat the servants of the Church by mutilating their limbs,
the Council ordains that if a slave commit an offence, he shall be
delivered to the secular judges, but so that the bishops shall moderate
the punishment inflicted on him. We see by this canon that the right
of mutilation exercised by private masters was still in use; and
perhaps it was still more strongly established, since we see that
the Council limits itself to interdicting that kind of punishment to
ecclesiastics, without saying any thing as to laymen. No doubt, one of
the motives for this prohibition made to ecclesiastics, was to prevent
their shedding human blood, and thus rendering themselves incapable
of exercising their lofty ministry, the principal act of which is the
august sacrifice in which they offer a victim of peace and love; but
this does not in any way detract from the merit of the regulation, or
at all diminish its influence on the improvement of the condition of
slaves. It was the substitution of public vengeance for private; it
was again to proclaim the equality of slaves and freemen with respect
to the effusion of their blood; it was to declare that the hands which
had shed the blood of a slave, had contracted the same stain as if they
had shed that of a freeman. Now, it was necessary to inculcate these
salutary truths on men's minds in every way, for they ran in direct
contradiction to the ideas and manners of antiquity; it was necessary
to labor assiduously to destroy the shameful and cruel exceptions which
continued to deprive the majority of mankind of a participation in the
rights of humanity. There is, in the canon which I have just quoted,
a remarkable circumstance, which shows the solicitude of the Church
to restore to slaves the dignity and respect of which they had been
deprived. To shave the hair of the head was among the Goths a very
ignominious punishment; which, according to Lucas de Tuy, was to them
more cruel than death itself. It will be understood, that whatever was
the force of prejudice on this point, the Church might have allowed
the shaving of the hair without incurring the stain which was attached
to the shedding of blood. Yet she was not willing to allow it, which
shows us how attentive she was to destroy the marks of humiliation
impressed on slaves. After having enjoined priests and bishops to
deliver criminal slaves to the judges, she commands them "not to allow
them to be shaved ignominiously." No care was too great in this matter;
to destroy one after another the odious exceptions which affected
slaves, it was necessary to seize upon all favorable opportunities.
This necessity is clearly shown by the manner in which the eleventh
Council of Toledo, held in 675, expresses itself. This Council, in its
6th canon, forbids bishops themselves to judge crimes of a capital
nature, as it also forbids them to order the mutilation of members.
Behold in what terms it was considered necessary to state that this
rule admitted of no exception; "not even," says the Council, "with
respect to the slaves of the Church." The evil was great, it could not
be cured without assiduous care. Even the right of life and death,
the most cruel of all, could not be extirpated without much trouble;
and cruel applications of it were made in the beginning of the sixth
century, since the Council of Epaone, in its 34th canon, ordains that
"the master who, _of his own authority_, shall take away the life of
his slave, shall be cut off for two years from the communion of the
Church." After the middle of the ninth century, similar attempts were
still made, and the Council of Worms, held in 868, labored to repress
them, by subjecting to two years of penance the master who, of his own
authority, shall have put his slave to death.
CHAPTER XVII.
MEANS EMPLOYED BY THE CHURCH TO ENFRANCHISE SLAVES.
While improving the condition of slaves and assimilating it as much
as possible to that of freemen, it was necessary not to forget the
universal emancipation; for it was not enough to ameliorate slavery, it
was necessary to abolish it. The mere force of Christian notions, and
the spirit of charity which was spread at the same time with them over
the world, made so violent an attack on the state of slavery, that they
were sure sooner or later to bring about its complete abolition. It
is impossible for society to remain for a long time under an order of
things which is formally opposed to the ideas with which it is imbued.
According to Christian maxims, all men have a common origin and the
same destiny; all are brethren in Jesus Christ; all are obliged to
love each other with all their hearts, to assist each other in their
necessities, to avoid offending each other even in words; all are equal
before God, for they will all be judged without exception of persons.
Christianity extended and took root everywhere--took possession of
all classes, of all branches of society; how, then, could the state
of slavery last--a state of degradation which makes man the property
of another, allows him to be sold like an animal, and deprives him of
the sweetest ties of family and of all participation in the advantages
of society? Two things so opposite could not exist together; the
laws were in favor of slavery, it is true; it may even be said that
Christianity did not make a direct attack on those laws. But, on the
other hand, what did it do? It strove to make itself master of ideas
and manners, communicated to them a new impulse, and gave them a
different direction. In such a case, what did laws avail? Their rigor
was relaxed, their observance was neglected, their equity began to be
doubted, their utility was disputed, their fatal effects were remarked,
and they gradually fell into desuetude, so that sometimes it was not
necessary to strike a blow to destroy them. They were thrown aside
as things of no use; or, if they deserved the trouble of an express
abolition, it was only for the sake of ceremony; it was a body interred
with honor.
But let it not be supposed, after what I have just said, that in
attributing so much importance to Christian ideas and manners, I mean
that the triumph of these ideas and manners was abandoned to that
force alone, without that co-operation on the part of the Church which
the time and circumstances required. Quite the contrary: the Church,
as I have already pointed out, called to her aid all the means the
most conducive to the desired result. In the first place, it was
requisite, to secure the work of emancipation, to protect from all
assault the liberty of the freed--liberty which unhappily was often
attacked and put in great danger. The causes of this melancholy fact
may be easily found in the remains of ancient ideas and manners, in
the cupidity of powerful men, the system of violence made general by
the irruptions of the barbarians, in the poverty, neglect, and total
want of education and morality in which slaves must have been when they
quitted servitude. It must be supposed that a great number of them did
not know all the value of liberty; that they did not always conduct
themselves, in their new state, according to the dictates of reason and
the exigences of justice; and that, newly entered on the possession
of the rights of freemen, they did not know how to fulfil all their
new obligations. But these different inconveniences, inseparable
from the nature of things, were not to hinder the consummation of an
enterprise called for both by religion and humanity, and it was proper
to be resigned to them from the consideration of the numerous motives
for excusing the conduct of the enfranchised; the state which these
men had just quitted had checked the development of their moral and
intellectual faculties.
The liberty of newly-emancipated slaves was protected against the
attacks of injustice, and clothed with an inviolable sanctity, from
the time that their enfranchisement was connected with things which
then exercised the most powerful ascendency. Now the Church, and all
that belonged to her, was in this influential position; therefore
the custom, which was then introduced, of performing the manumission
in the churches, was undoubtedly very favorable to the progress of
liberty. This custom, by taking the place of ancient usages, caused
them to be forgotten; it was, at the same time, a tacit declaration of
the value of human liberty in the sight of God, and a proclamation,
with additional authority, of the equality of men before Him; for the
manumission was made in the same place where it was so often read,
that before Him there was no exception of persons; where all earthly
distinctions disappeared, and all men were commingled and united by
the sweet ties of fraternity and love. This method of manumission more
clearly invested the Church with the right of defending the liberty of
the enfranchised. As she had been witness to the act, she could testify
to the spontaneity and the other circumstances which assured its
validity; she could even insist on its observance, by representing that
the promised liberty could not be violated without profaning the sacred
place, without breaking a pledge which had been given in the presence
of God himself. The Church did not forget to turn these circumstances
to the advantage of the freed. Thus we see that the first Council of
Orange, held in 441, ordains, in its 7th canon, that it was necessary
to check, by ecclesiastical censures, whoever desired to reduce to any
kind of servitude slaves who had been emancipated within the enclosure
of the church. A century later we find the same prohibition repeated in
the 7th canon of the fifth Council of Orleans, held in 549.
The protection given by the Church to freed slaves was so manifest and
known to all, that the custom was introduced of especially recommending
them to her. This recommendation was sometimes made by will, as the
Council of Orange, which I have just quoted, gives us to understand;
for it orders that the emancipated who had been recommended to the
Church by will, shall be protected from all kinds of servitude, by
ecclesiastical censures.
But this recommendation was not always made in a testamentary form. We
read in the sixth canon of the sixth Council of Toledo, held in 589,
that when any enfranchised persons had been recommended to the Church,
neither they nor their children could be deprived of the protection of
the Church: here they speak in general, without limitation to cases in
which there had been a will. The same regulation may be seen in another
Council of Toledo, held in 633, which simply says, that the Church will
receive under her protection only the enfranchised of individuals who
shall have taken care to recommend them to her.
In the absence of all particular recommendation, and even when the
manumission had not been made in the Church, she did not cease to
interest herself in defending the freed, when their liberty was
endangered. He who has any regard for the dignity of man, and any
feeling of humanity in his heart, will certainly not find it amiss
that the Church interfered in affairs of this kind; indeed, she acted
as every generous man should do, in the exercise of the right of
protecting the weak. We shall not be displeased, therefore, to find
in the twenty-ninth canon of the Council of Agde in Languedoc, held
in 506, a regulation commanding the Church, in case of necessity, to
undertake the defence of those to whom their masters had given liberty
in a lawful way.
The zeal of the Church in all times and places for the redemption of
captives has no less contributed to the great work of the abolition
of slavery. We know that a considerable portion of slaves owed their
servitude to the reverses of war. The mild character which we see in
modern wars would have appeared fabulous to the ancients. Woe to the
vanquished! might then be said with perfect truth; there was nothing
but slavery or death. The evil was rendered still greater by a fatal
prejudice, which was felt with respect to the redemption of captives--a
prejudice which was, nevertheless, founded on a trait of remarkable
heroism. No doubt the heroic firmness of Regulus is worthy of all
admiration. The hair stands upon our head when we read the powerful
description of Horace; the book falls from our hands at this terrible
passage:
"Fertur pudicæ conjugis osculum
Parvosque natos, ut capitis minor,
Ab se removisse, et virilem
Torvus humi posuisse vultum."--Lib. iii. od. 5.
Nevertheless, if we lay aside the deep impression which such heroism
produces on us, and the enthusiasm at all that shows a great soul, we
must confess that this virtue bordered on ferocity; and that, in the
terrible discourse of Regulus, that is a cruel policy, against which
the sentiments of humanity would strongly recoil, if the mind were not,
as it were, prostrated at the sight of the sublime disinterestedness of
the speaker. Christianity could not consent to such doctrines; it could
not allow the maxim to be maintained that, in order to render men brave
in battle, it was necessary to deprive them of hope. The wonderful
traits of valor, the magnificent scenes of force and constancy, which
shine in every page of the history of modern nations, eloquently show
that the Christian religion was not deceived; gentleness of manners
may be united with heroism. The ancients were always in excess, either
in cowardice or ferocity; between these two extremes there is a middle
way, and that has been taught to mankind by the Christian religion.
Christianity, in accordance with its principles of fraternity and love,
regarded the redemption of captives as one of the worthiest objects of
its charitable zeal. Whether we consider the noble traits of particular
actions, which have been preserved to us by history, or observe the
spirit which guided the conduct of the Church, we shall find therein
one of the most distinguished claims of the Christian religion to the
gratitude of mankind.
A celebrated writer of our times, M. de Chateaubriand, has described
to us a Christian priest who, in the forests of France, voluntarily
made himself a slave, who devoted himself to slavery for the ransom
of a Christian soldier, and thus restored a husband to his desolate
wife, and a father to three unfortunate orphan children. The sublime
spectacle which Zachary offers us, when enduring slavery with calm
serenity for the love of Jesus Christ, and for the unhappy being for
whom he has sacrificed his liberty, is not a mere fiction of the
poet. More than once, in the first ages of the Church, such examples
were seen; and he who has wept over the sublime disinterestedness and
unspeakable charity of Zachary, may be sure that his tears are only
a tribute to the truth. "We have known," says St. Clement the Pope,
"many of ours who have devoted themselves to captivity, in order to
ransom their brethren." (_First Letter to the Corinth._ c. 55.) The
redemption of captives was so carefully provided for by the Church
that it was regulated by the ancient canons, and to fulfil it, she
sold, if necessary, her ornaments, and even the sacred vessels. When
unhappy captives were in question, her charity and zeal knew no bounds,
and she went so far as to ordain that, however bad might be the state
of her affairs, their ransom should be provided for in the first
instance. (_Caus._ 12, 5, 2.) In the midst of revolutions produced by
the irruption of barbarians, we see that the Church, always constant
in her designs, forgot not the noble enterprise in which she was
engaged. The beneficent regulations of the ancient canons fell not
into forgetfulness or desuetude, and the generous words of the holy
Bishop of Milan, in favor of slaves, found an echo which ceased not to
be heard amid the chaos of those unhappy times. We see by the fifth
canon of the Council of Mâcon, held in 585, that priests undertook
the ransom of captives by devoting to it the Church property. The
Council of Rheims, held in 625, inflicts the punishment of suspension
from his functions on the bishop who shall have destroyed the sacred
vessels; but with generous foresight, it adds, "for any other motive
than the redemption of captives;" and long afterwards, in the twelfth
canon of the Council of Verneuil, held in 844, we find that the
property of the Church was used for that merciful purpose. When the
captive was restored to liberty, the Church did not deprive him of
her protection; she was careful to continue it, by giving him letters
of recommendation, for the double purpose of protecting him from new
trouble during his journey, and of furnishing him with the means of
repairing his losses during his captivity. We find a proof of this
new kind of protection in the second canon of the Council of Lyons,
held in 583, which ordains that bishops shall state in the letters of
recommendation which they give to captives, the date and price of their
ransom. The zeal for this work was displayed in the Church with so
much ardor, that it went so far as to commit acts of imprudence which
the ecclesiastical authority was compelled to check. These excesses,
and this mistaken zeal, prove how great was the spirit of charity.
We know by a Council, called that of St. Patrick, held in Ireland in
the year 451 or 456, that some of the clergy ventured to procure the
freedom of captives by inducing them to run away. The Council, by its
thirty-second canon, very prudently checks this excess, by ordaining
that the ecclesiastic who desires to ransom captives must do so with
his own money; for to steal them, by inducing them to run away, was to
expose the clergy to be considered as robbers, which was a dishonor to
the Church. A remarkable document, which, while showing us the spirit
of order and equity which guides the Church, at the same time enables
us to judge how deeply was engraved on men's minds the maxim, that _it
is holy, meritorious, and generous to give liberty to captives_; for
we see that some persons had persuaded themselves that the excellence
of the work justified seizing them forcibly. The disinterestedness of
the Church on this point is not less laudable. When she had employed
her funds in the ransom of a captive, she did not desire from him any
recompense, even when he had it in his power to discharge the debt.
We have a certain proof of this in the letters of St. Gregory, where
we see that that Pope reassures some persons who had been freed with
the money of the Church, and who feared that after a time they would
be called upon to pay the sum expended for their advantage. The Pope
orders that no one, at any time, shall venture to disturb either them
or their heirs, seeing that the sacred canons allow the employment of
the goods of the Church for the ransom of captives. (L. 7, ep. 14.)
The zeal of the Church for so holy a work must have contributed in
an extraordinary way to diminish the number of slaves; the influence
of it was so much the more salutary, as it was developed precisely
at the time when it was most needed, that is, in those ages when the
dissolution of the Roman empire, the irruption of the barbarians, the
fluctuations of so many peoples, and the ferocity of the invading
nations, rendered wars so frequent, revolutions so constant, and the
empire of force so habitual and prevailing. Without the beneficent and
liberating intervention of Christianity, the immense number of slaves
bequeathed by the old society to the new, far from diminishing, would
have been augmented more and more; for wherever the law of brute force
prevails, if it be not checked and softened by a powerful element,
the human race becomes rapidly debased, the necessary result of which
is the increase of slavery. This lamentable state of agitation and
violence was in itself very likely to render the efforts which the
Church made to abolish slavery useless; and it was not without infinite
trouble that she prevented what she succeeded in preserving on one
side, from being destroyed on the other. The absence of a central
power, the complication of social relations, almost always badly
determined, often affected by violence, and always deprived of the
guarantee of stability and consistency, was the reason why there was
no security either for things or persons, and that while properties
were unceasingly invaded, persons were deprived of their liberty. So
that it was at that time necessary to fight against the violence of
individuals, as had been formerly done against manners and legislation.
We see that the third canon of the Council of Lyons, held about 566,
excommunicates those who unjustly retain free persons in slavery; in
the seventeenth canon of the Council of Rheims, held in 625, it is
forbidden, under the same penalty, to pursue free persons in order to
reduce them to slavery: in the twenty-seventh canon of the Council of
London, held in 1102, the barbarous custom of dealing in men, like
animals, is proscribed: and in the seventh canon of the Council of
Coblentz, held in 922, he who takes away a Christian to sell him is
declared guilty of homicide; a remarkable declaration, when we see
liberty valued at as high a price as life itself. Another means of
which the Church availed herself to abolish slavery was, to preserve
for the unfortunate who had been reduced to that state by misery, a
sure means of quitting it.
We have already remarked above that indigence was one of the causes
of slavery, and we have seen that this was frequently the cause among
the Gauls, as is evidenced by a passage of Cæsar. We also know that
by virtue of an ancient law, he who had fallen into slavery could not
recover his liberty without the consent of his master; as the slave
was really property, no one could dispose of him without the consent
of his master, and least of all himself. This law was in accordance
with Pagan doctrines, but Christianity regarded the thing differently;
and if the slave was still in her eyes a property, he did not cease
to be a man. Thus on this point the Church refused to follow the
strict rules of other properties; and when there was the least doubt,
at the first favorable opportunity she took the side of the slave.
These observations make us understand all the value of the new law
introduced by the Church, which ordained that persons who had been
sold by necessity should be able to return to their former condition
by restoring the price which they had received. This law, which is
expressly laid down in a French Council, held about 616 at Boneuil,
according to the common opinion, opened a wide field for the conquests
of liberty; it supported in the heart of the slave a hope which urged
him to seek and put into operation the means of obtaining his ransom,
and it placed his liberty within the power of any one who, touched with
his unhappy lot, was willing to pay or lend the necessary sum. Let us
remember what we have said of the ardent zeal which was awakened in
so many hearts for works of this kind; let us call to mind that the
property of the Church was always considered as well employed when it
was used for the succor of the unfortunate, and we shall understand the
incalculable influence of the regulation which we have just mentioned.
We shall see that it was to close one of the most abundant sources of
slavery, and prepare a wide path to universal emancipation.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT.
The conduct of the Church with respect to the Jews also contributed
to the abolition of slavery. This singular people, who bear on their
forehead the mark of proscription, and are found dispersed among all
nations, like fragments of insoluble matter floating in a liquid, seek
to console themselves in their misfortune by accumulating treasures,
and appear to wish to avenge themselves for the contemptuous neglect
in which they are left by other nations, by gaining possession of
their wealth by means of insatiable usury. In times when revolutions
and so many calamities must necessarily have produced distress, the
odious vice of unfeeling avarice must have had a fatal influence. The
harshness and cruelty of ancient laws and manners concerning debtors
were not effaced, liberty was far from being estimated at its just
value, and examples of persons who sold it to relieve their necessities
were not wanting; it was therefore important to prevent the power of
the wealthy Jews from reaching an exorbitant extent, to the detriment
of the liberty of Christians. The unhappy notoriety which, after so
many centuries, attaches to the Jews in this matter, proves that this
danger was not imaginary; and facts of which we are now witnesses
are a confirmation of what we advance. The celebrated Herder, in his
_Adrastus_, ventures to prognosticate that the children of Israel, from
their systematic and calculating conduct, will in time make slaves of
all Christians. If this extraordinary and extravagant apprehension
could enter the head of a distinguished man, in circumstances which are
certainly infinitely less favorable to the Jews, what was to be feared
from this people in the unhappy times of which we speak? From these
considerations, every impartial observer, every man who is not under
the influence of the wretched desire of taking the part of every kind
of sect, in order to have the pleasure of accusing the Catholic Church,
even at the risk of speaking against the interests of humanity; every
observer who is not one of those who are less alarmed by an irruption
of Caffres than by any regulation by which the ecclesiastical power
appears in the smallest degree to extend the circle of its prerogative;
every man, I say, who is neither thus bitter, little, nor pitiful, will
see, not only without being scandalized, but even with pleasure, that
the Church, with prudent vigilance, watched the progress of the Jews,
and lost no opportunity of favoring their Christian slaves, until they
were no longer allowed to have any.
The third Council of Orleans, held in 538, by its 13th canon, forbids
Jews to compel Christian slaves to do things contrary to the religion
of Jesus Christ. This regulation, which guarantied the liberty of the
slave in the sanctuary of conscience, rendered him respectable even in
the eyes of his master: it was besides a solemn proclamation of the
dignity of man, it was a declaration that slavery could not extend
its dominion over the sacred region of the mind. Yet this was not
enough; it was proper also that the recovery of their liberty should
be facilitated to the slaves of Jews. Three years only pass away; a
fourth Council is held at Orleans; let us observe the progress which
the question had made in so short a time. This Council, by its 30th
canon, allows the Christian slaves who shall take refuge in the church
to be ransomed, on paying to their Jewish master the proper price.
If we pay attention, we shall see that such a regulation must have
produced abundant results in favor of liberty, as it gave Christian
slaves the opportunity of flying to the churches, and there imploring,
with more effect, the charity of their brethren, to gain the price of
their ransom. The same Council, in its 31st canon, ordains that the
Jew who shall pervert a Christian slave shall be condemned to lose
all his slaves; a new sanction given to the security of the slave's
conscience--a new way opened to liberty. The Church constantly advanced
with that unity of plan--that admirable consistency--which even her
enemies have acknowledged in her. In the short interval between the
period alluded to and the latter part of the same century, her progress
was more perceptible. We observe, in the canonical regulations of
the latter period, a wider scope, and, if we may so speak, greater
boldness. In the Council of Mâcon, held in 581 or 582, canon 16, Jews
are expressly forbidden to have Christian slaves; and it is allowed to
ransom those who are in their possession for twelve sous. We find the
same prohibition in the 14th canon of the Council of Toledo, held in
589; so that at this time the Church shows what her desire is; she is
unwilling that a Christian should be in any way the slave of a Jew.
Constant in her design, she checked the evil by all the means in her
power; if it was necessary, limiting the right of selling slaves, when
there was danger of their falling into the hands of Jews. Thus we see
that, by the 9th canon of the Council of Châlons, held in 650, it is
forbidden to sell slaves out of the kingdom of Clovis, lest they should
fall into the power of Jews. Yet the intention of the Church on this
point was not understood by all, and her views were not seconded as
they ought to have been; but she did not cease to repeat and inculcate
them. In the middle of the seventh century there were found clergy and
laity who sold their Christian slaves to Jews. The Church labored to
check this abuse. The tenth Council of Toledo, held in 657, by its 7th
canon, forbids Christians, and especially clerics, to sell their slaves
to Jews; the Council adds these noble words: "They cannot be ignorant
that these slaves have been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ;
wherefore they ought rather to buy than sell them."
This ineffable goodness of a God made man, who had shed His blood for
the redemption of all men, was the powerful motive which urged the
Church to interest herself with so much zeal in the enfranchisement
of slaves; and, indeed, was it not enough to inspire horror for so
degrading an inequality, to think that these same men, reduced to
the level of brutes, had been, as well as their masters, as well as
the most powerful monarchs upon earth, the objects of the merciful
intentions of the Most High? "Since our Redeemer, the Creator of all
things," said Pope S. Gregory, "has deigned, in His goodness, to assume
the flesh of man, in order to restore to us our pristine liberty,
by breaking, through the means of His Divine grace, the bonds of
servitude, which held us captives, it is a salutary deed to restore to
men, by enfranchisement, their native liberty; for, in the beginning,
nature made them all free, and they have only been subjected to the
yoke of servitude by the law of nations." (L. 5, lett. 72.)
During all times the Church has considered it very necessary to
limit, as much as possible, the alienation of her property; and it
may be said that the general rule of her conduct in this point was
to trust very little to the discretion of any one of her ministers
individually; she thus endeavored to prevent dilapidations, which
otherwise would have been frequent. As her possessions were dispersed
on all sides, and intrusted to ministers chosen from all classes of
the people, and exposed to the various influences which the relations
of blood, friendship, and a thousand other circumstances, the effects
of difference of character, knowledge, prudence, and even of times and
places, always exercise, the Church showed herself very watchful in
giving her sanction to the power of alienation; and, when requisite,
she knew how to act with salutary rigor against those ministers
who, neglecting their duty, wasted the funds confided to them. We
have seen that, in spite of all this, she was not stopped by any
consideration when the ransom of captives was in question; it may be
also shown that, with respect to property in slaves, she saw things in
a different light, and changed her rigor into indulgence. When slaves
had faithfully served the Church, the Bishops could grant them their
liberty, and add a gift to assist them in maintaining themselves.
This judgment as to the merit of slaves appears to have been confided
to the discretion of the Bishops; and it is evident that such a
regulation opened a wide door to their charity; at the same time,
it stimulated the slaves to behave themselves, so as to deserve so
precious a recompense. As it might happen that the succeeding Bishop
might raise doubts as to the sufficiency of the motives which induced
his predecessor to give liberty to a slave, and attempt afterwards
to call it in question, it was ordained that they should respect the
appointments of their predecessors on this point, and leave to the
enfranchised not only their liberty, but also the gratuity which had
been given to them in lands, vineyards, or houses: this is prescribed
in the 7th canon of the Council of Agde in Languedoc, held in the year
506. Let it not be objected that manumission is forbidden by the canons
of this Council in other places; they speak only in general terms, and
allude not to cases where slaves had merited well. Alienations or
mortgages made by a Bishop who left no property were to be revoked.
This regulation itself shows that it alludes to cases in which the
Bishops had acted against the canons. Yet if he had given liberty to
any slaves, the rigor of the law was mitigated in their favor, and
it was ordained that the enfranchised should continue to enjoy their
liberty. This is ordained by the 9th canon of the Council of Orleans,
held in 541. This canon only imposes on the enfranchised the obligation
of lending their services to the Church; services which were evidently
only those of the enfranchised. On the other hand, she recompensed them
with the protection which she always granted to men in this condition.
As another proof of the indulgence of the Church with respect to
slaves, may be cited the 10th canon of the Council of Celchite,
in England, held in 816, the result of which must have been to
enfranchise, in a few years, all the English slaves of the Churches
existing in the countries where the Council was observed. Indeed, this
canon ordained that, at the death of a Bishop, all his English slaves
should be set at liberty; it added, that each of the other Bishops and
Abbots might enfranchise three slaves on the occasion, by giving each
of them three sous. Such regulations smoothed the way more and more,
and prepared circumstances and men's minds, so that, some time later,
was witnessed that noble scene, where, at the Council of Armagh, in
1172, liberty was given to all the English who were slaves in Ireland.
The advantageous conditions enjoyed by the slaves of the Church were so
much the more valuable, because a regulation newly introduced prevented
their losing them. If they could have passed into the hands of other
masters, in this case they would have lost the benefits which they
derived from living under the rule of so kind a mistress. But happily,
it was forbidden to exchange them for others; and if they left the
power of the Church, it was for freedom. We have a positive proof of
this regulation in the decretals of Gregory IX. (l. 3, t. 19, chaps.
3 and 4). It should be observed that in this document the slaves of
the Church are regarded as consecrated to God; thereon is founded the
regulation which prevents their passing into other hands and leaving
the Church, except as freemen. We also see there that the faithful, for
the good of their souls, had the custom of offering their slaves to
God and the Saints. By placing them thus in the power of the Church,
they put them out of common dealing and prevented their again falling
into profane servitude. It is useless to enlarge on the salutary effect
which must have been produced by these ideas and manners, in which we
see religion so intimately allied with the cause of humanity; it is
enough to observe, that the spirit of that age was highly religious,
and that which was attached to the cause of religion was sure to ride
in safety.
Religious ideas, by constantly developing their strength and directing
their action to all branches, were intended in a special manner to
relieve men by all possible means from the yoke of slavery. On this
subject we may be allowed to remark a canonical regulation of the time
of Gregory the Great. In a Council at Rome, held in 595, and presided
over by that Pope, a new means of escaping from their degraded state
was offered to slaves, by deciding that liberty should be given to all
those who desired to embrace the monastic life. The words of the holy
Pope are worthy of attention; they show the ascendency of religious
motives, and how much these motives preponderated over considerations
and interests of a worldly nature. This important document is found in
the letters of St. Gregory; it may be read in the notes at the end of
the volume.
To imagine that such regulations would remain barren, is to mistake
the spirit of those times: on the contrary, they produced the most
important effects. We may form an idea of them by reading in the decree
of Gratian (_Distin._ 54, c. 12), that they led to scandal; slaves fled
from the houses of their masters and took refuge in monasteries, under
pretext of religion. It was necessary to check this abuse, against
which complaints arose on all sides. Without waiting to consider what
these abuses themselves indicate, is it difficult to imagine that
these regulations of the Church must have had valuable results? They
not only gained liberty for a great many slaves, but also raised them
very much in the eyes of the world, for they placed them in a state
which every day gained importance and acquired an immense prestige and
a powerful influence. We may form an idea of the profound change which
took place every day in the organization of society, thanks to these
various means, by fixing our attention for a moment on what resulted
with respect to the ordination of slaves. The discipline of the Church
on this point was in accordance with her doctrines. The slave was a man
like other men, and he could be ordained as well as the greatest noble.
Yet while he was subject to the power of his master, he was devoid of
the independence necessary for the dignity of the sacred ministry;
therefore it was required that he should not be ordained until he had
been previously set at liberty. Nothing could be more just, reasonable,
and prudent, than the limit thus placed on a discipline otherwise
so noble and generous--a discipline which was in itself an eloquent
protest in favor of the dignity of man. The Church solemnly declared
that the misfortune of being a slave did not reduce him below the level
of other men, for she did not think it unworthy of her to choose her
ministers from among those who had been in servitude. By placing in so
honorable a sphere those who had been slaves, she labored with lofty
generosity to disperse the prejudices which existed against those
who were placed in that unhappy condition, and created strong and
effective ties between them and the most venerated class of freemen.
The abuse which then crept in of conferring orders on slaves, without
the consent of their masters, is above all worthy of our attention;
an abuse, it is true, altogether contrary to the sacred canons, and
which was checked by the Church with praiseworthy zeal, but which is
not the less useful in enabling the observer duly to appreciate the
profound effect of religious ideas and institutions. Without attempting
in any way to excuse what was blamable therein, we may very well make
use of the abuse itself, by considering that it frequently happens
that abuses are only exaggerations of a good principle. Religious
ideas accord but ill with slavery, although supported by laws; thence
the incessant struggle, repeated under different aspects, but always
directed towards the same end, viz. universal emancipation. It appears
to us that we may now the more confidently avail ourselves of this kind
of argument, as we have seen the most dreadful attempts at revolution
treated with indulgence, on account of the principles with which the
revolutionists were imbued and the objects which they had in view;
objects which, as every one knows, were nothing less than an entire
change in the organization of society. The abuse to which we have
alluded, is attested by the curious documents which are found collected
in the decree of Gratian (_Dist._ 54, c. 9, 10, 11, 12). When we
examine these documents with attention, we find, 1st, that the number
of slaves thus freed was very considerable, since the complaints on
this subject were almost universal: 2d, that the Bishops were generally
in favor of the slaves; that they carried their protection very far;
that they labored in all ways to realize these doctrines of equality;
indeed, it is affirmed in these documents that there was hardly a
Bishop who could not be charged with this reprehensible compliance: 3d,
that slaves were aware of this spirit of protection, and were eager
to throw off their chains and cast themselves into the arms of the
Church: 4th, that this combination of circumstances must have produced
in men's minds a movement very favorable to liberty; and that this
affectionate communication established between slaves and the Church,
then so powerful and influential, must soon have weakened slavery, and
rapidly have promoted the advance of nations towards that liberty which
completely triumphed a few centuries later. The Church of Spain, whose
civilizing influence has received so many eulogiums from men certainly
but little attached to Catholicity, equally displays her lofty views
and consummate prudence on this point. Charitable zeal in favor of
slaves was so ardent, the tendency to raise them to the sacred ministry
so decided, that it was necessary to allow free scope to this generous
impulse, while reconciling it as much as possible with the sacredness
of the ministry. Such was the twofold object of the discipline
introduced into Spain, by virtue of which it was allowed to confer
sacred orders on the slaves of the Church, on their being previously
enfranchised. This is ordered by the 74th canon of the fourth Council
of Toledo, held in 633; it is also inferred from the 11th canon of the
ninth Council of Toledo, which ordains that Bishops shall not introduce
the slaves of the Church among the clergy without having previously
given them their liberty.
It is remarkable that this regulation was extended by the 18th canon
of the Council of Merida, in 666, which gives to parish-priests the
right of selecting clerks among the slaves of their own church, with
the obligation of maintaining them according to their means. This wise
discipline prevented, without any injustice, all the difficulties that
might have ensued from the ordination of slaves; while it was a very
mild way of effecting the most beneficent results, since in conferring
orders on the slaves of the Church, it was easy to choose from among
them such as were most deserving by their intellectual and moral
qualifications. At the same time, it was affording the Church a most
favorable and honorable mode of liberating her slaves, by enrolling
them among her ministers. Finally, the Church by her generous conduct
towards slaves, gave a salutary example to the laity. We have seen that
she allowed the parochial clergy, as well as the bishops, the privilege
of setting them free; and this must have rendered it less painful for
laymen to emancipate their slaves, when circumstances seemed to call
the latter to the sacred ministry.
CHAPTER XIX.
DOCTRINES OF S. AUGUSTINE AND S. THOMAS AQUINAS ON THE SUBJECT OF
SLAVERY.--RÉSUMÉ OF THE SUBJECT.
Thus did the Church, by a variety of means, break the chains of
slavery, without ever exceeding the limits marked out by justice and
prudence: thus did she banish from among Christians that degrading
condition, so contrary to their exalted ideas on the dignity of
man, and their generous feelings of fraternity and love. Wherever
Christianity shall be introduced, chains of iron shall be turned into
gentle ties, and humiliated men shall raise their ennobled heads. With
what pleasure do we read the remarks of one of the greatest men of
Christianity, S. Augustine, on this point (_De Civit. Dei_, l. xix. c.
14, 15, 16). He establishes in a few words the obligation incumbent
upon all who rule--fathers, husbands, and masters--to watch over the
good of those who are under them: he lays down the advantage of those
who obey, as one of the foundations for obedience; he says that the
just do not rule from ambition or pride, but from duty and the desire
of doing good to their subjects: "Neque enim dominandi cupiditate
imperant, sed officio consulendi, nec principandi superbia, sed
providendi misericordia;" and by these noble maxims he proscribes all
opinions which tend to tyranny, or found obedience on any degrading
notions; but on a sudden, as if this great mind apprehended some reply
in violation of human dignity, he grows warm, he boldly faces the
question; he rises to his full height, and, giving free scope to the
noble thoughts that ferment in his mind, he invokes the idea of nature
and the will of God in favor of the dignity of man thus menaced. He
says: "Thus wills the order of nature; thus has man been created by
God. He has given him to rule over the fishes of the sea, the birds of
the air, and the reptiles that crawl on the face of the earth. _He has
ordained that reasoning creatures, made according to His own image,
shall rule only over creatures devoid of reason. He has not established
the dominion of man over man, but that of man over the brute._" This
passage of S. Augustine is one of those bold features which shine forth
in writers of genius, when grieved by the sight of a painful object,
they allow their generous ideas and feelings to have free scope, and
cease to restrain their daring energies. Struck by the force of the
expression, the reader, in suspense and breathless, hastens to read the
succeeding lines; he fears that the author may be mistaken, seduced
by the nobleness of his heart, and carried away by the force of his
genius. But, with inexpressible pleasure, he finds that the writer
has in no degree departed from the path of true doctrine, when, like
a brave champion, he has descended into the arena to defend the cause
of justice and humanity. Thus does S. Augustine now appear to us: the
sight of so many unfortunate beings groaning in slavery, victims of the
violence and caprice of their masters, afflicted his generous mind. By
the light of reason and the doctrines of Christianity, he saw no reason
why so considerable a portion of the human race should be condemned
to live in such debasement; wherefore, when proclaiming the doctrines
of submission and obedience, he labors to discover the cause of such
ignominy; and not being able to find it in the nature of man, he seeks
for it in sin, in malediction. "The primitive just men," says he, "were
rather established as pastors over their flocks, than as kings over
other men; whereby God gives us to understand what was called for by
the order of creation, and what was required by the punishment of sin;
for the condition of slavery has, with reason, been imposed on the
sinner. Thus we do not find the word slave in the Scriptures before
the day when the just man, Noah, gave it as a punishment to his guilty
son; whence it follows that this word came from sin, and not from
nature." This manner of considering slavery as the offspring of sin,
as the fruit of the Divine malediction, was of the highest importance.
By protecting the dignity of human nature, that doctrine completely
destroyed all the prejudices of natural superiority which the pride of
free men could entertain. Thereby also, slavery was deprived of all
its supposed value as a political principle or means of government:
it could only be regarded as one of the numberless scourges inflicted
on the human race by the anger of the Most High. Henceforth slaves
had a motive for resignation, while the absolute power of masters was
checked, and the compassion of all free men was powerfully excited.
All were born in sin, all might have been in a state of slavery. To
make a boast of liberty would have been like the conduct of a man
who, during an epidemic, should boast of having preserved his health,
and imagine that on that account he had a right to insult the unhappy
sick. In a word, the state of slavery was a scourge, nothing more; like
pestilence, war, famine, or any thing else of the kind. The duty of
all men was to labor to remedy and abolish it. Such doctrines did not
remain sterile. Proclaimed in the face of day, they were heard in all
parts of the Catholic world; and not only were they put in practice, as
we have seen by numberless examples, but they were carefully preserved
as a precious theory, throughout the confusion of the times. After the
lapse of eight centuries, we see them repeated by one of the brightest
lights of the Catholic Church, S. Thomas Aquinas (I. p. q. xcvi. art.
4). That great man does not see in slavery either difference of race or
imaginary inferiority or means of government; he only considers it as a
scourge inflicted on humanity by the sins of the first man.
Such is the repugnance with which Christians have looked upon slavery:
we see from this, how false is the assertion of M. Guizot: "It does
not seem that Christian society was surprised or much offended by
it." It is true there was not that blind disturbance and irritation
which, despising all barriers and paying no attention to the rules of
justice or the counsels of prudence, ran with foolish haste to efface
the mark of degradation and ignominy. But if that disturbance and
irritation are meant which are caused by the sight of oppression and
outrages committed against man, sentiments which can well accord with
longanimity and holy resignation, and which, without checking for a
moment the action of charitable zeal, nevertheless avoid precipitating
events, preferring mature arrangement in order to secure a complete
result; how can this perturbation of mind and holy indignation be
better proved to have existed in the bosom of the Church than by the
facts and doctrines which we have just quoted? What more eloquent
protest against the continuance of slavery can you have than the
doctrine of these two illustrious doctors? They declare it, as we
have just seen, to be the fruit of malediction, the chastisement of
the prevarication of the human race; and they only acknowledge its
existence by considering it as one of the great scourges that afflict
humanity.
I have explained, with sufficient evidence, the profound reasons which
induced the Church to recommend obedience to slaves, and she cannot be
reproached on that account with forgetting the rights of humanity. We
must not suppose on that account that Christian society was wanting
in the boldness necessary for telling the whole truth; but it told
only the pure and wholesome truth. What took place with respect to the
marriages of slaves is a proof of what I advance. We know that their
union was not regarded as a real marriage, and that even that union,
such as it was, could not be contracted without the consent of their
masters, under pain of being considered as void. Here was a flagrant
violation of reason and justice. What did the Church do? She directly
reprobated so gross a violation of the rights of nature. Let us hear
what Pope Adrian I. said on this subject: "According to the words of
the Apostles, as in Jesus Christ we ought not to deprive either slaves
or freemen of the sacraments of the Church, so it is not allowed in
any way to prevent the marriage of slaves; and if their marriages have
been contracted in spite of the opposition and repugnance of their
masters, nevertheless they ought not to be dissolved in any way." (_De
Conju. Serv._, lib. iv. tom. 9, c. 1.) And let it not be supposed that
this regulation, which secured the liberty of slaves on one of the
most important points, was restricted to particular circumstances;
no, it was something more; it was a proclamation of their freedom in
this matter. The Church was unwilling to allow that man, reduced to
the level of the brute, should be forced to obey the caprice or the
interest of another, without regard to the feelings of his heart. St.
Thomas was of the same opinion, for he openly maintains that, with
respect to the contracting of marriage, slaves are not obliged to obey
their masters (2^a. 2, q. 104, art. 5).
In the hasty sketch which I have given, I believe that I have kept the
promise which I made at the beginning, not to advance any proposition
without supporting it by undeniable documents, and not to allow myself
to be misled by enthusiasm in favor of Catholicity, so as to concede
to it that to which it is not entitled. By passing, rapidly it is
true, the course of ages, we have shown, by convincing proofs, which
have been furnished by times and places the most various, that it
was Catholicity that abolished slavery, in spite of ideas, manners,
interests, and laws, which opposed obstacles apparently invincible;
and that it has done so without injustice, without violence, without
revolutions,--with the most exquisite prudence and the most admirable
moderation. We have seen the Catholic Church make so extensive, so
varied, and so efficacious an attack on slavery, that that odious chain
was broken without a single violent stroke. Exposed to the action of
the most powerful agents, it gradually relaxed and fell to pieces. Her
proceedings may be thus recapitulated:--
First, she loudly teaches the truth concerning the dignity of man; she
defines the obligations of masters and slaves; she declares them equal
before God, and thus completely destroys the degrading theories which
stain the writings even of the greatest philosophers of antiquity.
She then comes to the application of her doctrines: she labors to
improve the treatment of slaves; she struggles against the atrocious
right of life and death; she opens her temples to them as asylums,
and when they depart thence, prevents their being ill-treated; she
labors to substitute public tribunals for private vengeance. At the
same time that the Church guarantees the liberty of the enfranchised,
by connecting it with religious motives, she defends that of those
born free; she labors to close the sources of slavery, by displaying
the most active zeal for the redemption of captives, by opposing the
avarice of the Jews, by procuring for men who were sold, easy means of
recovering their liberty. The Church gives an example of mildness and
disinterestedness; she facilitates emancipation, by admitting slaves
into monasteries and the ecclesiastical state; she facilitates it by
all the other means that charity suggests; and thus it is that, in
spite of the deep roots of slavery in ancient society--in spite of
the perturbation caused by the irruptions of the barbarians--in spite
of so many wars and calamities of every kind, which in great measure
paralyzed the effect of all regulating and beneficent action--yet
we see slavery, that dishonor and leprosy of ancient civilization,
rapidly diminish among Christians, until it finally disappears. Surely
in all this we do not discover a plan conceived and concerted by men.
But we do observe therein, in the absence of that plan, such unity of
tendencies, such a perfect identity of views, and such similarity in
the means, that we have the clearest demonstration of the civilizing
and liberating spirit contained in Catholicity. Accurate observers will
no doubt be gratified in beholding, in the picture which I have just
exhibited, the admirable concord with which the period of the empire,
that of the irruption of the barbarians, and that of feudality, all
tended towards the same end. They will not regret the poor regularity
which distinguishes the exclusive work of man; they will love, I repeat
it, to collect all the facts scattered in the seeming disorder, from
the forests of Germany to the fields of Bœotia--from the banks of
the Thames to those of the Tiber. I have not invented these facts;
I have pointed out the periods, and cited the Councils. The reader
will find, at the end of the volume, in the original and in full,
the texts of which I have just given an abstract--a _résumé:_ thus
he may fully convince himself that I have not deceived him. If such
had been my intention, surely I should have avoided descending to the
level ground of facts; I should have preferred the vague regions of
theory; I should have called to my aid high sounding and seductive
language, and all the means the most likely to enchant the imagination
and excite the feelings; in fine, I should have placed myself in one
of those positions where a writer can suppose at his pleasure things
which have never existed, and made the best use of the resources of
imagination and invention. The task which I have undertaken is rather
more difficult, perhaps less brilliant, but certainly more useful.
We may now inquire of M. Guizot what were the _other causes_, the
_other ideas_, the _other principles of civilization_, the great
development of which, to avail myself of his words, was necessary
"to abolish this evil of evils, this iniquity of iniquities." Ought
he not to explain, or at least point out, these causes, ideas, and
principles of civilization, which, according to him, assisted the
Church in the abolition of slavery, in order to save the reader the
trouble of seeking or divining them? If they did not arise in the bosom
of the Church, _where_ did they arise? Were they found in the ruins
of ancient civilization? But could these remains of a scattered and
almost annihilated civilization effect what that same civilization,
in all its vigor, power, and splendor, never did or thought of
doing?--Were they in the _individual independence of the barbarians_?
But that individuality, the inseparable companion of violence, must
consequently have been the source of oppression and slavery. Were they
found in the _military patronage_ introduced, according to M. Guizot,
by the barbarians themselves; patronage which laid the foundation
of that aristocratical organization which was converted at a later
period into feudality? But what could this patronage--an institution
likely, on the contrary, to perpetuate slavery among the indigent in
conquered countries, and to extend it to a considerable portion of the
conquerors themselves--what could this patronage do for the abolition
of slavery? Where, then, is the idea, the custom, the institution,
which, born out of Christianity, contributed to the abolition of
slavery? Let any one point out to us the epoch of its formation, the
time of its development; let him show us that it had not its origin
in Christianity, and we will then confess that the latter cannot
exclusively lay claim to the glorious title of having abolished that
degraded condition; and he may be sure that this shall not prevent our
exalting that idea, custom, or institution which took part in the great
and noble enterprise of liberating the human race.
We may be allowed, in conclusion, to inquire of the Protestant
churches, of those ungrateful daughters who, after having quitted the
bosom of their mother, attempt to calumniate and dishonor her, where
were you when the Catholic Church accomplished in Europe the immense
work of the abolition of slavery? and how can you venture to reproach
her with sympathizing with servitude, degrading man, and usurping his
rights? Can you, then, present any such claim entitling you to the
gratitude of the human race? What part can you claim in that great work
which prepared the way for the development and grandeur of European
civilization? Catholicity alone, without your concurrence, completed
the work; and she alone would have conducted Europe to its lofty
destinies, if you had not come to interrupt the majestic march of its
mighty nations, by urging them into a path bordered by precipices,--a
path the end of which is concealed by darkness which the eye of God
alone can pierce.[15]
CHAPTER XX.
CONTRAST BETWEEN TWO ORDERS OF CIVILIZATION.
WE have seen that European civilization owes to the Catholic Church its
finest ornament, its most valuable victory in the cause of humanity,
the abolition of slavery. It was the Church that, by her doctrines,
as beneficent as elevated, by a system as efficacious as prudent,
by her unbounded generosity, her indefatigable zeal, her invincible
firmness, abolished slavery in Europe; that is to say, she took the
first step towards the regeneration of humanity, and laid the first
stone for the wide and deep foundation of European civilization; we
mean the emancipation of slaves, the abolition for ever of so degrading
a state,--universal liberty. It was impossible to create and organize
a civilization full of grandeur and dignity, without raising man from
his state of abjection, and placing him above the level of animals.
Whenever we see him crouching at another's feet, awaiting with anxiety
the orders of his master or trembling at the lash; whenever he is
sold like a beast, or a price is set upon his powers and his life,
civilization will never have its proper development, it will always be
weak, sickly, and broken; for thus humanity bears a mark of ignominy on
its forehead.
After having shown that it was Catholicity that removed that obstacle
to all social progress, by, as it were, cleansing Europe of the
disgusting leprosy with which it was infected from head to foot,
let us examine what it has done towards creating and erecting the
magnificent edifice of European civilization. If we seriously reflect
on the vitality and fruitfulness of this civilization, we shall find
therein new and powerful claims on the part of the Catholic Church to
the gratitude of nations. In the first place, it is proper to glance at
the vast and interesting picture which European civilization presents
to us, and to sum up in a few words its principal perfections; thereby
we shall be enabled the more easily to account to ourselves for the
admiration and enthusiasm with which it inspires us.
The individual animated by a lively sense of his own dignity, abounding
in activity, perseverance, energy, and the simultaneous development
of all his faculties; woman elevated to the rank of the consort of
man, and, as it were, recompensed for the duty of obedience by the
respectful regards lavished upon her; the gentleness and constancy of
family ties, protected by the powerful guarantees of good order and
justice; an admirable public conscience, rich in maxims of sublime
morality, in laws of justice and equity, in sentiments of honor
and dignity; a conscience which survives the shipwreck of private
morality, and does not allow unblushing corruption to reach the height
which it did in antiquity; a general mildness of manners, which in
war prevents great excesses, and in peace renders life more tranquil
and pleasing; a profound respect for man, and all that belongs to
him, which makes private acts of violence very uncommon, and in all
political constitutions serves as a salutary check on governments;
an ardent desire of perfection in all departments; an irresistible
tendency, sometimes ill-directed, but always active, to improve the
condition of the many; a secret impulse to protect the weak, to succour
the unfortunate--an impulse which sometimes pursues its course with
generous ardor, and which, whenever it is unable to develop itself,
remains in the heart of society, and produces there the uneasiness
and disquietude of remorse; a cosmopolitan spirit of universality, of
propagandism, an inexhaustible fund of resources to grow young again
without danger of perishing, and for self-preservation in the most
important junctures; a generous impatience, which longs to anticipate
the future, and produces an incessant movement and agitation, sometimes
dangerous, but which are generally the germs of great benefits,
and the symptoms of a strong principle of life; such are the great
characteristics which distinguish European civilization; such are the
features which place it in a rank immensely superior to that of all
other civilizations, ancient and modern.
Read the history of antiquity; extend your view over the whole world;
wherever Christianity does not reign, and where the barbarous or
savage life no longer prevails, you will find a civilization which in
nothing resembles our own, and which cannot be compared with it for
a moment. In some of these states of civilization, you will perhaps
find a certain degree of regularity and some marks of power, for
they have endured for centuries; but how have they endured? Without
movement, without progress; they are devoid of life; their regularity
and duration are those of a marble statue, which, motionless itself,
sees the waves of generations pass by. There have also been nations
whose civilization displayed motion and activity; but what motion and
what activity? Some, ruled by the mercantile spirit, never succeeded
in establishing their internal happiness on a firm basis; their only
object was to invade new countries which tempted their cupidity, to
pour into their colonies their superabundant population, and establish
numerous factories in new lands: others, continually contending and
fighting for a few measures of political freedom, forgot their social
organization, took no care of their civil liberty, and acted in the
narrowest circle of time and space; they would not be even worthy
of having their names preserved for posterity, if the genius of the
beautiful had not shone there with indescribable charm, and if the
monuments of their knowledge, like a mirror, had not preserved the
bright rays of Eastern learning: others, great and terrible, it is
true, but troubled by intestine dissensions, bear inscribed upon their
front the formidable destiny of conquest; this destiny they fulfilled
by subjugating the world, and immediately their rapid and inevitable
ruin approached: others, in fine, excited by violent fanaticism, raged
like the waves of ocean in a storm; they threw themselves upon other
nations like a devastating torrent, and threatened to involve Christian
civilization itself in their deafening uproar; but their efforts were
vain; their waves broke against insurmountable barriers; they repeated
their attempts, but, always compelled to retire, they fell back again,
and spread themselves on the beach with a sullen roar: and now look at
the Eastern nations; behold them like an impure pool, which the heat
of the sun is about to dry up; see the sons and successors of Mahomet
and Omar on their knees at the feet of the European powers, begging a
protection, which policy sometimes affords them, but only with disdain.
Such is the picture presented to us by every civilization, ancient
and modern, except that of Europe, that is, the Christian. It alone
at once embraces every thing great and noble in the others; it alone
survives the most thorough revolutions; it alone extends itself to all
races and climates, and accommodates itself to forms of government
the most various; it alone, in fine, unites itself with all kinds of
institutions, whenever, by circulating in them its fertile sap, it can
produce its sweet and salutary fruits for the good of humanity. And
whence comes the immense superiority of European civilization over all
others? How has it become so noble, so rich, so varied, so fruitful;
with the stamp of dignity, of nobility, and of loftiness; without
castes, without slaves, without eunuchs, without any of those miseries
which prey upon other ancient and modern nations? It often happens
that we Europeans complain and lament more than the most unfortunate
portion of the human race ever did; and we forget that we are the
privileged children of Providence, and that our evils, our share of
the unavoidable patrimony of humanity, are very slight, are nothing
in comparison with those which have been, and still are, suffered by
other nations. Even the extent of our good fortune itself renders us
difficult to please, and exceedingly fastidious. We are like a man of
high rank, accustomed to live respected and esteemed in the midst of
ease and pleasure, who is indignant at a slighting word, is filled with
disquietude and affliction at the most trifling contradiction, and
forgets the multitude of men who are plunged in misery, whose nakedness
is covered with a few rags, and who meet with a thousand insults and
refusals before they can obtain a morsel of bread to satisfy the
cravings of hunger.
The mind, when contemplating European civilization, experiences so
many different impressions, is attracted by so many objects that at
the same time claim its attention and preference, that, charmed by the
magnificent spectacle, it is dazzled, and knows not where to commence
the examination. The best way in such a case is to simplify, to
decompose the complex object, and reduce it to its simplest elements.
_The individual, the family, and society_; these we have thoroughly to
examine, and these ought to be the subjects of our inquiries. If we
succeed in fully understanding these three elements, as they really are
in themselves, and apart from the slight variations which do not affect
their essence, European civilization, with all its riches and all its
secrets, will be presented to our view, like a fertile and beautiful
landscape lit up by the morning sun.
European civilization is in possession of the principal truths with
respect to the individual, to the family, and to society; it is to
this that it owes all that it is and all that it has. Nowhere have the
true nature, the true relations and object of these three things been
better understood than in Europe; with respect to them we have ideas,
sentiments, and views which have been wanting in other civilizations.
Now, these ideas and feelings, strongly marked on the face of European
nations, have inoculated their laws, manners, institutions, customs,
and language; they are inhaled with the air, for they have impregnated
the whole atmosphere with their vivifying aroma. To what is this owing?
To the fact, that Europe, for many centuries, has had within its bosom
a powerful principle which preserves, propagates, and fructifies the
truth; and it was especially in those times of difficulty, when the
disorganized society had to assume a new form, that this regenerating
principle had the greatest influence and ascendency. Time has passed
away, great changes have taken place, Catholicity has undergone vast
vicissitudes in its power and influence on society; but civilization,
its work, was too strong to be easily destroyed; the impulse which had
been given to Europe was too powerful and well secured to be easily
diverted from its course. Europe was like a young man gifted with a
strong constitution, and full of health and vigor; the excesses of
labor or of dissipation reduce him and make him grow pale; but soon the
hue of health returns to his countenance, and his limbs recover their
suppleness and vigor.
CHAPTER XXI.
OF THE INDIVIDUAL--OF THE FEELING OF INDIVIDUAL INDEPENDENCE ACCORDING
TO M. GUIZOT.
THE individual is the first and simplest element of society. If the
individual is not well constituted, if he is ill understood and ill
appreciated, there will always be an obstacle to the progress of
real civilization. First of all, we must observe, that we speak here
only of the individual, of man as he is in himself, apart from the
numerous relations which surround him when we come to consider him
as a member of society. But let it not be imagined from this, that
I wish to consider him in a state of absolute isolation, to carry
him to the desert, to reduce him to the savage state, and analyze
the individuality as it appears to us in a few wandering hordes, a
monstrous exception, which is only the result of the degradation of our
nature. Equally useless would it be to revive the theory of Rousseau,
that pure Utopianism which can only lead to error and extravagance.
We may separately examine the pieces of a machine, for the better
understanding of its particular construction; but we must take care not
to forget the purpose for which they are intended, and not lose sight
of the whole, of which they form a part. Without that, the judgment we
should form of them would certainly be erroneous. The most wonderful
and sublime picture would be only a ridiculous monstrosity, if its
groups and figures were considered in a state of isolation from its
other parts; in this way, the prodigies of Michael Angelo and Raffael
might be taken for the dreams of a madman. Man is not alone in the
world, nor is he born to live alone. Besides what is he in himself,
he is a part of the great scheme of the Universe. Besides the destiny
which belongs to him in the vast plan of creation, he is raised, by the
bounty of his Maker, to another sphere, above all earthly thoughts.
Good philosophy requires that we should forget nothing of all this. It
now remains for us to consider the individual and individuality.
In considering man, we may abstract from his quality of citizen,--an
abstraction which, far from leading to any extravagant paradoxes, is
likely to make us thoroughly understand a remarkable peculiarity of
European civilization, one of the distinctive characteristics, which
will be alone sufficient to enable us to avoid confounding it with
others. All will readily understand that there is a distinction to
be made between the man and the citizen, and that these two aspects
lead to very different considerations; but it is more difficult to
say how far the limits of this distinction should extend; to what
extent the feeling of independence should be admitted; what is the
sphere which ought to be assigned to purely individual development; in
fine, whatever is peculiar to our civilization on this point. We must
justly estimate the difference which we find herein between our state
of society and that of others; we must point out its source, and its
result; we must carefully weigh its real influence on the advance of
civilization. This task is difficult; I repeat it,--for we have here
various questions, great and important, it is true, but delicate and
profound, and very easily mistaken,--it is not without much trouble
that we can fix our eyes with certainty on these vague, indeterminate,
and floating objects, which are connected together by no perceptible
ties.
We here meet with the famous _personal independence_, which, according
to M. Guizot, was brought by the barbarians from the North, and played
so important a part, that we ought to look upon it as one of the
chief and most productive principles of European civilization. This
celebrated publicist, analyzing the elements of this civilization,
and pointing out the share which the Roman empire and the Church had
therein, in his opinion, finds a remarkable principle of productiveness
in the feeling of individuality, which the Germans brought with
them, and inoculated into the manners of Europe. It will not be
useless to discuss the opinion of M. Guizot on this important and
delicate matter. By thus explaining the state of the question, we
shall remove the important errors of some persons, errors produced
by the authority of this writer, whose talent and eloquence have
unfortunately given plausibility and semblance of truth to what is in
reality only a paradox. The first care we ought to take, in combating
the opinions of this writer, is not to attribute to him what he has
not really said; besides, as the matter we are treating of is liable
to many mistakes, we shall do well to transcribe the words of M.
Guizot at length. "What we require to know," he says, "is the general
condition of society among the barbarians. Now it is very difficult,
now-a-days, to give an account of it. We can understand, without too
much trouble, the municipal system of Rome, and the Christian Church;
their influence has continued down to our times; we find traces of
them in many institutions and existing facts. We have a thousand means
of recognising and explaining them. The manners, the social condition
of the barbarians, have entirely perished; we are compelled to divine
them, by the most ancient historical documents, or by an effort of
imagination."
What has been preserved to us of the manners of the barbarians is,
indeed, little; this is an assertion which I will not deny. I will not
dispute with M. Guizot about the authority which ought to belong to
facts which require to be filled up by an effort of the imagination,
and which compel us to have recourse to the dangerous expedient of
divining. As for the rest, I am aware of the nature of these questions;
and the reflections which I have just made, as well as the terms which
I have used, prove that I do not think it possible to proceed with
rule and compass in such an examination. Nevertheless, I have thought
it proper to warn the reader on this point, and combat the delusion
into which he might be led by a doctrine which, when fully examined,
is, I repeat it, only a brilliant paradox. "There is a feeling, a
fact," continues M. Guizot, "which it is above all necessary to
understand well, in order to represent to ourselves with truth what a
barbarian was: this is, the pleasure of individual independence--the
pleasure of playing amid the chances of the world and of life, with
power and liberty; the joys of activity without labor; the taste
for an adventurous destiny, full of surprises, vicissitudes, and
perils. Such was the ruling feeling of the barbarian state, the moral
necessity which put these masses of men in motion. To-day, in the
regular society in which we live, it is difficult to represent to
one's self this feeling, with all the influence which it exercised
over the barbarians of the fourth and fifth centuries. There is
only one work, in my opinion, in which this character of barbarism
is described with all its force, viz. _The History of the Conquest
of England by the Normans_, of M. Thierry--the only book where the
motives, the inclinations, the impulses which actuate man in a social
state bordering on barbarism, are felt and described with a truth
really Homeric. Nowhere do we see so clearly what a barbarian was,
and what was his life. We also find something of this, although in a
very inferior degree, in my opinion, in a manner much less simple,
much less true, in the romances of Mr. Cooper on the American savages.
There is in the life of the savages of America, in the relations and
feelings which exist in those forests, something which reminds one,
to a certain extent, of the manners of the ancient Germans. No doubt
these pictures are a little ideal, a little poetical; the unfavorable
side of barbarian life and manners is not displayed in all its crudity.
I do not speak merely of the evils which these manners produce in
the individual social condition of the barbarian himself. In this
passionate love of personal independence, there was something more
rude and coarse than one would imagine from the work of M. Thierry;
there was a degree of brutality, of indolence, of apathy, which is not
always faithfully described in his pictures. Nevertheless, when one
examines the thing to the bottom, in spite of brutality, coarseness,
and this stupid _egotism_, the taste for individual independence is a
noble moral feeling, which draws its power from the moral nature of
man: it is the pleasure of feeling himself a man--the sentiment of
personality, of spontaneous action in his free development. Gentlemen,
it was by the German barbarians that this feeling was introduced
into the civilization of Europe; it was unknown to the Roman world,
unknown to the Christian Church, unknown to almost all the ancient
civilizations:--when you find liberty in the ancient civilizations,
it is political liberty, the liberty of the citizen. It is not with
his personal liberty that the man is prepossessed, but with his
liberty as a citizen. He belongs to an association--he is devoted to
an association--he is ready to sacrifice himself for an association.
It was the same with the Christian Church: there prevailed a feeling
of great attachment to the Christian corporation--of devotion to its
laws--a strong desire of extending its empire; the religious feeling
produced a reaction on the man himself--on his soul--an internal
struggle to subdue his own will, and make it submit to the demands of
his faith. But the feeling of personal independence, the taste for
liberty showing itself at any hazard, with hardly any other object than
its own satisfaction--this feeling, I repeat, was unknown to the Roman
and Christian society. It was brought in by the barbarians, and placed
in the cradle of modern civilization. It has played so great a part,
it has produced such noble results, that it is impossible not to bring
it to light as one of the fundamental elements thereof." (_Histoire
Générale de la Civilisation en Europe_, leçon 2.) This feeling of
personal independence, exclusively attributed to a nation--this
vague, undefinable feeling--a singular mixture of nobleness and
brutality, of barbarism and civilization--is in some degree poetical,
and is very likely to seduce the fancy; but, unfortunately, there
is in the contrast, intended to increase the effect of the picture,
something extraordinary, I will even say contradictory, which excites
the suspicion of cool reason that there is some hidden error which
compels it to be on its guard. If it be true that this phenomenon
ever existed, what was its origin? Will it be said that it was the
result of climate? But how can it be imagined that the snows of the
north protected what was not found in the ardent south? How comes it
that the feeling of personal independence was wanting precisely in
those southern countries of Europe, where the feeling of political
independence was developed with so much force? and would it not be a
strange thing, not to say an absurdity, if these different climates had
divided these two kinds of liberty between them, like an inheritance?
It will be said, perhaps, that this feeling arose from the social
state. But in that case, it cannot be made the characteristic mark
of one nation: it must be said, in general terms, that the feeling
belonged to all the nations who were in the same social condition as
the Germans. Besides, even according to this hypothesis, how could
that which was peculiar to barbarism have been a germ, a fruitful
principle of civilization? This feeling, which must have been effaced
by civilization, could not even preserve itself in the midst thereof,
much less contribute to its development. If its perpetuation in some
form was absolutely necessary, why did not the same thing take place
in the bosom of other civilizations? Surely the Germans were not the
only people who passed from barbarism to civilization. But I do not
pretend to say that the barbarians of the north did not present some
remarkable peculiarity in this point of view; and I do not deny that
we find in European civilization a feeling of personality, if I may so
speak, unknown to other civilizations. But what I venture to affirm
is, that it is little philosophical to have recourse to mysteries and
enigmas to explain the _individuality_ of the Germans, and that it
is useless to seek in their barbarism the cause of the superiority
which European civilization possesses in this respect. To form a clear
idea of this question, which is as complicated as it is important,
it is first of all necessary to specify, in the best way we can, the
real nature of the barbarian _individuality_. In a pamphlet which I
published some time ago, called _Observations Sociales, Politiques,
et Economiques, sur les Biens du Clergé_, I have incidentally touched
upon this individuality, and attempted to give clear ideas on this
point. As I have not changed my opinion since that time, but, on the
contrary, as it has been confirmed, I will transcribe what I then
said, as follows: "What was this feeling? Was it peculiar to those
nations? Was it the result of the influence of climate, of a social
position? Was it perchance a feeling formed in all places and at all
times, but which is here modified by particular circumstances? What
was its force, its tendency? How far was it just or unjust, noble or
degrading, profitable or injurious? What benefits did it confer on
society; what evils? How were these evils combated, by whom, by what
means, and with what result? These questions are numerous, but they
are not so complicated as they appear at first sight; when once the
fundamental idea shall be cleared up, the others will be understood
without difficulty, and the theory, when simplified, will immediately
be confirmed and supported by history. There is a strong, active,
an indestructible feeling in the human heart which urges men to
self-preservation, to avoid evils, and to attain to their well-being
and happiness. Whether you call it self-love, instinct of preservation,
desire of happiness or of perfection, egotism, _individuality_, or
whatever name you give to it, this feeling exists; we have it within
us. We cannot doubt of its existence; it accompanies us at every step,
in all our actions, from the time when we first see the light till we
descend into the tomb. This feeling, if you will observe its origin,
its nature, and its object, is nothing but a great law of all beings
applied to man; a law which, being a guarantee for the preservation and
perfecting of individuals, admirably contributes to the harmony of the
universe. It is clear that such a feeling must naturally incline us
to hate oppression, and to suffer with impatience what tends to limit
and fetter the use of our faculties. The cause is easily found; all
this gives us uneasiness, to which our nature is repugnant; even the
tenderest infant bears with impatience the tie that fastens him in his
cradle; he is uneasy, he is disturbed, he cries.
"On the other hand, the individual, when he is not totally devoid
of knowledge of himself, when his intellectual faculties are at all
developed, will feel another sentiment arise in his mind which has
nothing in common with the instinct of self-preservation with which
all beings are animated, a sentiment which belongs exclusively to
intelligence; I mean, the feeling of dignity, of value of ourselves,
of that fire which, enkindled in our hearts in our earliest years, is
nourished, extended, and supported by the aliment afforded to it by
time, and acquires that immense power, that expansion which makes us
so restless, active, and agitated during all periods of our life.
The subjection of one man to another wounds this feeling of dignity;
for even supposing it to be reconciled with all possible freedom and
mildness, with the most perfect respect for the person subjected, this
subjection reveals a weakness or a necessity which compels him in some
degree to limit the free use of his faculties. Such is the second
origin of the feeling of personal independence. It follows from what
I have just said, that man always bears within himself a certain love
of independence, that this feeling is necessarily common to all times
and countries, for we have found its roots in the two most natural
feelings of man--viz. _the desire of well-being and the consciousness
of his own dignity_. It is evident that these feelings may be modified
and varied indefinitely, on account of the infinity of situations in
which the individual may be placed, morally and physically. Without
leaving the sphere which is marked out for them by their very essence,
these feelings may vary as to strength or weakness on the most
extensive scale; they may be moral or immoral, just or unjust, noble
or vile, advantageous or injurious. Consequently they may contribute
to the individual the greatest variety of inclinations, of habits, of
manners; and thereby give very different features to the physiognomy
of nations, according to the particular and characteristic manner in
which they affect the individual. These notions being once cleared up
by a real knowledge of the constitution of the heart of man, we see
how all questions which relate to the feeling of individuality must be
resolved; we also see that it is useless to have recourse to mysterious
language or poetical explanations, for in all this there is nothing
that can be submitted to a rigorous analysis. The ideas which man
forms of his own well-being and dignity, the means which he employs to
promote the one and preserve the other, these are what will settle the
degrees of energy, will determine the nature and signalize the tendency
of all these feelings; that is to say, all will depend on the physical
and moral state of society and the individual. Now, supposing all other
circumstances to be equal, give a man true ideas of his own well-being
and dignity, such as reason and above all the Christian religion teach,
and you will form a good citizen; give false, exaggerated, absurd
ideas, such as are entertained by perverted schools and promulgated
by agitators at all times and in all countries, and you spread the
fruitful seeds of disturbance and disorder.
"In order to complete the clearing up of the important point which
we have undertaken to explain, we must apply this doctrine to the
particular fact which now occupies us. If we fix our attention on
the nations who invaded and overturned the Roman empire, confining
ourselves to the facts which history has preserved of them, to the
conjectures which are authorized by the circumstances in which they
were placed, and to the general data which modern science has been
able to collect from the immediate observation of the different tribes
of America, we shall be able to form an idea of what was the state of
society and of the individual among the invading barbarians. In their
native countries, among their mountains, in their forests covered
with frost and snow, they had their family ties, their relationships,
their religion, traditions, customs, manners, attachment to their
hereditary soil, their love of national independence, their enthusiasm
for the great deeds of their ancestors, and for the glory acquired
in battle; in fine, their desire of perpetuating in their children a
race strong, valiant, and free; they had their distinctions of family,
their division into tribes, their priests, chiefs, and government.
Without discussing the character of their forms of government, and
laying aside all that might be said of their monarchy, their public
assemblies, and other similar points, questions which are foreign to
our subject, and which besides are always in some degree hypothetical
and imaginary, I shall content myself with making a remark which
none of my readers will deny, viz. that among them the organization
of society was such as might have been expected from rude and
superstitious ideas, gross habits, and ferocious manners; that is to
say, that their social condition did not rise above the level which
had naturally been marked out for it by two imperious necessities:
first, that complete anarchy should not prevail in their forests; and
second, that in war they should have some one to lead their confused
hordes. Born in rigorous climates, crowding on each other by their
rapid increase, and on that account obtaining with difficulty even
the means of subsistence, these nations saw before their eyes the
abundance and the luxuries of ample and well-cultivated regions; they
were at the same time urged on by extreme want, and strongly excited
by the presence of plunder. There was nothing to oppose them but the
feeble legions of an effeminate and decaying civilization; their own
bodies were strong, their minds full of courage and audacity; their
numbers augmented their boldness; they left their native soil without
pain; a spirit of adventure and enterprise developed itself in their
minds, and they threw themselves on the Empire like a torrent which
falls from the mountains, and inundates the neighboring plains. However
imperfect was their social condition, and however rude were its ties,
it sufficed, nevertheless, in their native soil, and amid their ancient
manners; if the barbarians had remained in their forests, it may be
said that that form of government, which answered its purpose in its
way, would have been perpetuated; for it was born of necessity, it was
adapted to circumstances, it was rooted in their habits, sanctioned by
time, and connected with traditions and recollections of every kind.
But these ties were too weak to be transported without being broken.
These forms of government were, as we have just seen, so suited to the
state of barbarism, and consequently so circumscribed and limited,
that they could not be applied without difficulty to the new situation
in which these nations found themselves almost suddenly placed. Let
us imagine these savage children of the forest precipitated on the
south; their fierce chiefs precede them, and they are followed by
crowds of women and children; they take with them their flocks and
rude baggage; they cut to pieces numerous legions on their way; they
form intrenchments, cross ditches, scale ramparts, ravage the country,
destroy forests, burn populous cities, and take with them immense
numbers of slaves captured on the way. They overturn every thing that
opposes their fury, and drive before them multitudes who flee to
avoid fire and sword. In a short time see these same men, elated with
victory, enriched by immense booty, inured by so many battles, fires,
sackings, and massacres, transported, as if by enchantment, into a new
climate, under another sky, and swimming in abundance, in pleasure,
in new enjoyments of every kind. A confused mixture of idolatry and
Christianity, of truth and falsehood, is become their religion; their
principal chiefs are dead in battle; families are confounded in
disorder, races mixed, old manners and customs altered and lost. These
nations, in fine, are spread over immense countries, in the midst of
other nations, differing in language, ideas, manners, and usages;
imagine, if you can, this disorder, this confusion, this chaos, and
tell me whether the ties which formed the society of these nations are
not destroyed and broken into a thousand pieces, and whether you do
not see barbarian and civilized society disappear together, and all
antiquity vanish without any thing new taking its place? And at this
moment, fix your eyes upon the gloomy child of the North, when he feels
all the ties that bound him to society suddenly loosened, when all
the chains that restrained his ferocity break; when he finds himself
alone, isolated, in a position so new, so singular, so extraordinary,
with an obscure recollection of his late country and without affection
for that which he has just occupied; without respect for law, fear of
man, or attachment to custom. Do you not see him, in his impetuous
ferocity, indulge without limit his habits of violence, wandering,
plunder, and massacre? He confides in his strong arm and activity of
foot, and led by a heart full of fire and courage, by an imagination
excited by the view of so many different countries and by the hazards
of so many travels and combats, he rashly undertakes all enterprises,
rejects all subjection, throws off all restraint, and delights in
the dangers of fresh struggles and adventures. Do you not find here
the mysterious individuality, the feeling of personal independence,
in all its philosophical reality and all the truth which is assigned
to it by history? This brutal individuality, this fierce feeling of
independence, which was not reconcileable with the well-being or with
the true dignity of the individual, contained a principle of eternal
war and a continually wandering mode of life, and must necessarily
produce the degradation of man and the complete dissolution of society.
Far from containing the germ of civilization, it was this that was best
adapted to reduce Europe to the savage state; it stifled society in its
cradle; it destroyed every attempt made to reorganize it, and completed
the annihilation of all that remained of the ancient civilization."
The observations which have just been made may be more or less well
founded, more or less happy, but at least they do not present the
inexplicable inconsistency, not to say contradiction, of allying
barbarism and brutality with civilization and refinement; they do
not give the name of an eminent and fruitful principle of European
civilization to that which a little further on is pointed out as one
of the strongest obstacles to the progress of social organization.
As M. Guizot, on this last point, agrees with the opinion which I
have just stated, and shows the incoherence of his own doctrines, the
reader will allow me to quote his own words. "It is clear," he says,
"that if men have no ideas extending beyond their own existence, if
their intellectual horizon is limited to themselves, if they give
themselves up to the caprices of their own passions and wills, if they
have not among them a certain number of common notions and feelings,
around which they rally; it is clear, I say, that no society can be
possible among them; that such individual, when he enters into any
association, will be a principle of disturbance and dissolution.
Whenever individuality almost absolutely prevails, or man only
considers himself, or his ideas do not extend beyond himself, or he
obeys only his own passions, society, I mean one with any thing of
extent or permanency, becomes almost impossible. Now such was the moral
condition of the conquerors of Europe at the period of which we speak.
I have pointed out, in the last lecture, that we owe the energetic
feeling of individual liberty and humanity to the Germans. Now, in a
state of extreme rudeness and ignorance, this feeling is egotism in all
its brutality, in all its unsociability. From the fifth to the eighth
century, such was the case among the Germans. They consulted only their
own interests, their own passions, their own wills; how could this
accord with the social state? It was attempted to make them enter it;
they attempted it themselves; they soon left it from some sudden act,
some sally of passion or misunderstanding. Every moment we see society
attempted to be formed; every moment we see it broken by the act of
man, by the want of the moral conditions necessary for its subsistence.
Such, gentlemen, were the two prevailing causes of the state of
barbarism. As long as they lasted, barbarism continued." (_Histoire
Générale de la Civilisation en Europe_, leçon 3.)
With respect to his theory of _individuality_, M. Guizot has met with
the common fate of men of great talents. They are forcibly struck
by a singular phenomenon, they conceive an ardent desire of finding
its cause, and they fall into frequent errors, led away by a secret
tendency always to point out a new, unexpected, astonishing origin.
In his vast and penetrating view of European civilization, in his
parallel between this and the most distinguished ones of antiquity, he
discovered a very remarkable difference between the individuals of the
former and of the latter. He saw in the man of modern Europe, something
nobler, more independent than in the Greek or Roman; it was necessary
to point out the origin of this difference. Now this was not an easy
task, considering the peculiar situation in which the philosophical
historian found himself. From the first glance which he took at the
elements of European civilization, the Church presented herself to him
as one of the most powerful and the most influential agents on the
organization of society; and he saw issue from her the impulse which
was most capable of leading the world to a great and happy future. He
had already expressly acknowledged this, and had paid homage to the
truth in magnificent language; in order to explain this phenomenon,
should he again have recourse to Christianity, to the Church? This
would have been conceding to her the whole of the great work of
civilization; and M. Guizot was desirous, at all hazards, of giving her
coadjutors. Therefore, fixing his eyes upon the barbarian hordes, he
expects to discover in the swarthy brows, the savage countenances, and
the menacing looks of these children of the forest, a type, somewhat
rude but still very just, of the noble independence, the elevation, and
dignity which the European bears in his features.
After having explained the mysterious personality of the Germans, and
shown that, far from being an element of civilization, it was a source
of disorder and barbarism; it is besides necessary to examine the
difference which exists between the civilization of Europe and other
civilizations, with respect to the feeling of dignity; it is necessary
to determine with precision what modifications have been undergone by
a feeling, which, considered by itself, is, as we have seen, common to
all men. In the first place, there is no foundation for this assertion
of M. Guizot, _that the feeling of personal independence, the taste
for liberty, displaying itself at all hazards, with scarcely any other
object than its own satisfaction, was unknown to Roman society_. It
is clear that in such a comparison, it is not meant to allude to the
feeling of independence in the savage state, in the state of barbarism;
for as well might it be said that civilized nations could not have the
distinctive character of barbarism. But laying aside that circumstance
of ferocity, we will say that the feeling was very active, not only
among the Romans, but also among the other most celebrated nations of
antiquity. "When you find in ancient civilization," says M. Guizot,
"liberty, it is political liberty, the liberty of the citizen. It
is not with his personal liberty that the man is prepossessed, it
is with his liberty as a citizen; he belongs to an association, he
is devoted to an association, he is ready to sacrifice himself for
an association." I will not deny that this spirit of sacrifice for
the benefit of an association did exist among ancient nations; I
acknowledge also that it was accompanied by remarkable peculiarities,
which I intend to explain further on; yet it may be doubted whether
_the taste for liberty, with scarcely any other object than its own
satisfaction_, was not more active with ancient nations than with
us. Indeed, what was the object of the Phœnicians, the Greeks of the
Archipelago and of Asia Minor, the Carthaginians, when they undertook
those voyages which, for such remote times, were as bold and perilous
as those of our most intrepid sailors? Was it, indeed, to sacrifice
themselves for an association that they sought new territories with
so much ardour, in order to amass there money, gold, and all kinds of
articles of value? Were they not led by the desire of acquiring _to
gratify themselves_? Where, then, is the association? Where do you find
it here? Do you see any thing but the individual, with his passions and
tastes, and his ardour in satisfying them? And the Greeks--those Greeks
so enervated, so voluptuous, so spoiled by pleasures, had they not the
most lively feeling of personal independence, the most ardent desire
of living with perfect freedom, with no other object but to gratify
themselves? Their poets singing of nectar and of love; their free
courtesans receiving the homage of the most illustrious citizens, and
making sages forget their philosophical moderation and gravity; and the
people celebrating their festivals amid the most fearful dissoluteness;
did they also only sacrifice on the altars of association? Had they
not the desire of gratifying themselves? With respect to the Romans,
perhaps it would not be so easy to demonstrate this, if we had to
speak of what are called the glorious times of the Republic; but we
have to deal with the Romans of the empire, with those who lived at
the time of the irruption of the barbarians; with those Romans, greedy
of pleasures, and devoured by that thirst for excess of which history
has preserved such shameful pictures. Their superb palaces, their
magnificent villas, their delicious baths, their splendid festive
halls, their tables loaded with riches, their effeminate dresses, their
voluptuous dissipation; do they not show us individuals who, without
thinking of the association to which they belonged, only thought of
gratifying their own passions and caprices; lived in the greatest
luxury, with every delicacy and all imaginable splendour; had no
care but to enjoy society, to lull themselves asleep in pleasure, to
gratify all their passions, and give way to a burning love of their own
satisfactions and amusements?
It is not easy, then, to imagine why M. Guizot exclusively attributes
to the barbarians _the pleasure of feeling themselves men, the feeling
of personality, of human spontaneousness in its free development_. Can
we believe that such sentiments were unknown to the victors of Marathon
and Platæa, to those nations who have immortalized their names by so
many monuments? When, in the fine arts, in the sciences, in eloquence,
in poetry, the noblest traits of genius shone forth on all sides,
had they not among them the pleasure of feeling themselves men, the
feeling and the power of the free development of all their faculties?
and in a society where glory was so passionately loved, as we see it
was among the Romans, in a society which shows us men like Cicero
and Virgil, and which produced a Tacitus, who still, after nineteen
centuries, makes every generous heart thrill with emotion, _was there
no pleasure in feeling themselves men, no pride in appreciating their
own dignity? Was there no feeling of the spontaneousness of man in his
own free development?_ How can we imagine that the barbarians of the
north surpassed the Greeks and Romans in this respect? Why, then, these
paradoxes, this confusion of ideas? Of what avail are these brilliant
expressions meaning nothing? Of what use are these observations, of a
false delicacy, where the mind at first sight discovers vagueness and
inexactitude; and where it finds, after a complete examination, nothing
but incoherency and revery?
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW THE INDIVIDUAL WAS ABSORBED BY ANCIENT SOCIETY.
IF we profoundly study this question, without suffering ourselves to
be led into error and extravagance, by the desire of passing for deep
observers; if we call to our aid a just and cool philosophy, supported
by the facts of history, we shall see that the principal difference
between the ancient civilizations and our own with respect to the
individual is, that, in antiquity, _man, considered as man, was not
properly esteemed_. Ancient nations did not want either _the feeling of
personal independence, or the pleasure of feeling themselves men_; the
fault was not in the heart, but in the head. What they wanted was the
comprehension of the dignity of man; the high idea which Christianity
has given us of ourselves, while, at the same time, with admirable
wisdom, it has shown us our infirmities. What ancient societies wanted,
what all those, where Christianity does not prevail, have wanted, and
will continue to want, is the respect and the consideration which
surround every individual, _every man, inasmuch as he is a man_. Among
the Greeks the Greeks are every thing; strangers, barbarians, are
nothing: in Rome, the title of Roman citizen makes the man; he who
wants this is nothing. In Christian countries, the infant who is born
deformed, or deprived of some member, excites compassion, and becomes
an object of the tenderest solicitude; it is enough that he is man,
and unfortunate. Among the ancients, this human being was regarded
as useless and contemptible; in certain cities, as for example at
Lacedæmon, it was forbidden to nourish him, and, by command of the
magistrates charged with the regulation of births, horrible to relate!
he was thrown into a ditch. He was a _human being_; but what matter?
He was a human being who would be of no use; and society, without
compassion, did not wish to undertake the charge of his support. If
you read Plato and Aristotle, you will see the horrible doctrine which
they professed on the subject of abortion and infanticide; you will see
the means which these philosophers imagined, in order to prevent the
excess of population; and you will be sensible of the immense progress
which society has made, under the influence of Christianity, in all
that relates to man. Are not the public games, those horrible scenes
where hundreds of men were slaughtered to amuse an inhuman multitude,
an eloquent testimony to the little value attached to man, when he was
sacrificed with so much barbarism for reasons so frivolous?
The right of the strongest was exercised among the ancients in a
horrible manner; and this is one of the causes to which must be
attributed the state of annihilation, so to speak, in which we see the
individual with respect to society. Society was strong, the individual
was weak; society absorbed the individual, and arrogated to itself
all imaginable rights over him; and if ever he made opposition to
society, he was sure to be crushed by it with an iron hand. When we
read the explanation which M. Guizot gives us of this peculiarity of
ancient civilizations, we might suppose that there existed among them a
patriotism unknown to us; a patriotism which, carried to exaggeration,
and stripped of the feeling of personal independence, produced a kind
of annihilation of the individual in presence of society. If he had
reflected deeply on the matter, M. Guizot would have seen that the
difference is not in the feelings of antiquity, but in the immense
fundamental revolution which has taken place in ideas; hence he would
easily have concluded, that the difference observed in their feelings
must have been owing to the differences in the ideas themselves.
Indeed, it is not strange that the individual, seeing the little esteem
in which he was held, and the unlimited power which society arrogated
to itself over his independence and his life, (for it went so far
as to grind him to powder, when he opposed it,) on his side formed
an exaggerated idea of society and the public authority, so as to
annihilate himself in his own heart before this fearful colossus. Far
from considering himself as a member of an association the object of
which was the safety and happiness of every individual, the benefits
of which required from him some sacrifices in return, he regarded
himself as a thing devoted to this association, and compelled, without
hesitation, to offer himself as a holocaust on its altars. Such is
the condition of man; when a power acts upon him, for a long time,
unlimitedly, his indignation is excited against it, and he rejects it
with violence; or else he humbles, he debases, he annihilates himself
before the strong influence which binds and prostrates him. Let us see
if this be not the contrast which ancient societies constantly afford
us; the blindest submission and annihilation on the one hand, and, on
the other, the spirit of insubordination, of resistance, showing itself
in terrible explosions. It is thus, and thus only, that it is possible
to understand how societies, whose normal condition was confusion and
agitation, present us with such astonishing examples as Leonidas with
his three hundred Spartans perishing at Thermopylæ, Sævola thrusting
his hand into the fire, Regulus returning to Carthage to suffer and
die, and Marcus Curtius, all armed, leaping into the chasm which had
opened in the midst of Rome. All these phenomena, which at first sight
appear inexplicable, are explained when we compare them with what has
taken place in the revolutions of modern times. Terrible revolutions
have thrown some nations into confusion; the struggle of ideas and
interests, inflaming their passions, has made them forget their true
social relations, during intervals of greater or less duration. What
has happened? At the same time that unlimited freedom was proclaimed,
and the rights of individuals were incessantly extolled, there arose
in the midst of society a cruel power, which, concentrating in its own
hands all public authority, inflicted on them the severest blows. At
such periods, when the formidable maxim of the ancients, the _salus
populi_, that pretext for so many frightful attempts was in full force,
there arose, on the other hand, that mad and ferocious patriotism which
superficial men admire in the citizens of ancient republics.
Some writers have lavished eulogiums on the ancients, and, above
all, on the Romans. It seemed as if, to gratify their ardent wishes,
modern civilization must be moulded according to the ancient. They
made absurd attempts; they attacked the existing social system with
unexampled violence; they labored to destroy, or at least to stifle,
Christian ideas concerning the individual and society, and they
sought their inspiration from the shades of the ancient Romans. It is
remarkable that, during the short time that the attempt lasted, there
were seen, as in ancient Rome, admirable traits of strength, of valor,
of patriotism, in fearful contrast with cruelties and crimes without
example. In the midst of a great and generous nation there appeared
again, to affright the human race, the bloody spectres of Marius and
Sylla; so true it is that man is everywhere the same, and that the same
order of ideas in the end produces the same order of events. Let the
Christian ideas disappear, let old ones regain their force, and you
will see that the modern world will resemble the ancient one. Happily
for humanity, this is impossible. All the attempts hitherto made to
produce such a result have been necessarily of short continuance,
and such will be the case in future. But the bloody page which these
criminal attempts have left in history offers an abundant subject
for reflection to the philosopher who desires to become thoroughly
acquainted with the intimate and delicate relations between ideas and
facts. There he will see fully exhibited the vast scheme of social
organization, and he will be able to appreciate at its just value the
beneficial or injurious influence of the various religious and the
different philosophical systems.
The periods of revolutions, that is to say, those stormy times when
governments are swallowed up one after another like edifices built upon
a volcanic soil, have all this distinctive character, _the tyranny of
the interests of public authority over private interests_. Never is
this power feebler, or less lasting; but never is it more violent,
more mad. Every thing is sacrificed to its safety or its vengeance;
the shade of its enemies pursues it and makes it continually tremble;
its own conscience torments it and leaves it no repose; the weakness
of its organization, its instable position, warn it at every step
of its approaching fall, and in its impotent despair it makes the
convulsive efforts of one dying in agony. What, then, in its eyes are
the lives of citizens, if they excite the slightest, the most remote
suspicion? If the blood of thousands of victims could procure for it
a moment of security, and add a few days to its existence, "Perish
my enemies," it says; "this is required for the safety of the state,
that is, for mine!" Why this frenzy, this cruelty? It is because the
ancient government, having been overturned by force, and the new having
been enthroned in the same way, the idea of right has disappeared from
the sphere of power. Legitimacy does not protect it, even its novelty
betrays its little value; every thing forebodes its short existence.
Stripped of the reason and justice which it is obliged to invoke in
its own support, it seeks for both in the _very necessity of power_, a
social necessity, which is always visible, and it proclaims that the
safety of the people is the supreme care. Then the property and lives
of individuals are nothing; they are annihilated in the presence of the
bloody spectre which arises in the midst of society; armed with force,
and surrounded by guards and scaffolds, it says, "I am the public
power; to me is confided the safety of the people; it is I who watch
over the interests of society."
Now, do you know what is the result of this absolute want of respect
for the individual, of this complete annihilation of man in presence of
the alarming power which claims to represent society? It is that the
feeling of association reappears in different directions; no longer a
feeling directed by reason, foresight, and beneficence, but a blind,
instinctive feeling, which urges man not to remain alone, without
defence, in the midst of a society which is converted into a field of
battle and a vast conspiracy; men then unite either to sustain power,
when, influenced by the whirlwind of revolution, they are identified
with it, and regard it as their only rampart, or to overturn it, if,
some motive having urged them into the opposite ranks, they see their
most terrible enemy in the existing power, and a sword continually
suspended over their heads. These men belong to an association, are
devoted to an association, are ready to sacrifice themselves for it,
for they cannot live alone; they know, they comprehend, at least
instinctively, that the individual is nothing; for as the restraints
that maintain social order have been broken, the individual no longer
has a tranquil sphere where he can live in peace and independence,
confident that a power founded on legitimacy and guided by reason and
justice watches over the preservation of public order and the respect
due to individual rights. Then timid men are alarmed and humbled, and
begin to represent that first scene of servitude where the oppressed
is seen to kiss the hand of the oppressor, and the victim to reverence
the executioner. Daring men resist and contend, or rather, conspiring
in the dark, they prepare terrible explosions. No one then belongs to
himself; the individual is absorbed on all sides, either by the force
which oppresses or by that which conspires. The tutelary divinity of
individuals is justice; when justice vanishes, they are no more than
imperceptible grains of dust carried away by the wind, or drops of
water in the stormy waves of ocean. Imagine to yourself societies where
this passing frenzy does not prevail, it is true, but which are yet
devoid of true ideas on the rights and duties of individuals, and of
those of public authority; societies where there are some wandering,
uncertain, obscure, imperfect notions thereon, stifled by a thousand
prejudices and errors; societies under which, nevertheless, public
authority is organized under one form or another, and has become
consolidated, thanks to the force of habit, and the absence of all
other government better calculated to satisfy urgent necessities; you
will then have an idea of the ancient societies, we should rather
say, societies without Christianity, and you will understand the
annihilation of the individual before the force of public power, either
under an Asiatic despotism or the turbulent democracy of the ancient
republics. And what you will then see will be precisely what you have
observed in modern societies at times of revolution, only with this
difference, that in these the evil is transitory and noisy, like the
ravages of the tempest, while among the ancients it was the normal
state, like the vitiated atmosphere which injures and corrupts all that
breathe it.
Let us examine the cause of these two opposite phenomena, the lofty
patriotism of the Greeks and Romans, and the state of prostration and
political degradation in which other nations lay, and in which those
still lie who are not under the influence of Christianity; what is the
cause of this individual abnegation which is found at the bottom of
two feelings so contrary? and why do we not find among any of those
nations that individual development which is observed in Europe, and
which with us is connected with a reasonable patriotism, from which the
feeling of a legitimate personal independence is not excluded? It is
because in antiquity man did not know himself, or what he was; it is
because his true relations with society were viewed through a thousand
prejudices and errors, and consequently were very ill understood. This
will show that admiration for the patriotism, disinterestedness, and
heroic self-denial of the ancients has been sometimes carried too far,
and that these qualities, far from revealing in the men of antiquity a
greater perfection of the individual, a superior elevation of mind to
that of the men of modern times, rather indicate ideas less elevated
and feelings less independent than our own. Perhaps some blind admirers
of the ancients will be astonished at these assertions. Let them
consider the women of India throwing themselves on the funeral-pile
after the death of their husbands, and slaves putting themselves to
death because they could not survive their masters, and they will see
that personal self-denial is not an infallible sign of elevation of
mind. Sometimes man does not understand his own dignity; he considers
himself devoted to another being, absorbed by him, and then he regards
his own existence only as a secondary thing, which has no object but to
minister to the existence of another. We do not wish to underrate the
merit which rightly belongs to the ancients; we do not wish to lower
their heroism, as far as it is just and laudable, any more than we
wish to attribute to the moderns an egotistical individuality, which
prevents their sacrificing themselves for their country: our only
object is to assign to every thing its place, by dissipating prejudices
which are excusable up to a certain point, but do lamentable mischief
by falsifying the principal features of ancient and modern history.
This annihilation of the individual among the ancients arose also
from the weakness and imperfection of his moral development, and from
his want of a rule for his own guidance, which compelled society to
interfere in all that concerned him, as if public reason was called
upon to supply the defect of private reason. If we pay attention,
we shall observe that in countries where political liberty was the
most cherished, civil liberty was almost unknown. While the citizens
flattered themselves that they were very free, because they took part
in the public deliberations, they wanted that liberty which is most
important to man, that which we now call civil liberty. We may form
an idea of the thoughts and manners of the ancients on this point, by
reading one of their most celebrated writers, Aristotle. In the eyes
of this philosopher, the only title which renders a man worthy of the
name of citizen, seems to be the participation in the government of the
republic; and these ideas, apparently very democratic and calculated
to extend the rights of the most numerous class, far from proceeding,
as one would suppose, from an exaggeration of the dignity of man, was
connected in his mind with a profound contempt for man himself. His
system was to reserve all honor and consideration for a very limited
number; the classes of citizens who were thus condemned to degradation
and nullity were all laborers, artisans, and tradesmen. (_Pol._ l.
vii. c. 9, 12; l. viii. c. 1, 2; l. iii. c. 1.) This theory supposed,
as may be seen, very curious ideas on individuals and society, and
is an additional confirmation of what I have said respecting the
eccentricities, not to say monstrosities, which we see in the ancient
republics. Let us never forget that one of the principal causes of
the evil was the want of an intimate knowledge of man; it was the
little value which was placed upon his dignity as man; the individual,
deprived of guides to direct him, could not conciliate esteem; in a
word, there was wanting the light of Christianity, which was alone
capable of illuminating the chaos.
The feeling of the dignity of man is deeply engraven on the heart of
modern society; we find everywhere, written in striking characters,
this truth, that man, by virtue of his title of man, is respectable
and worthy of high consideration; hence it is that all the schools of
modern times that have foolishly undertaken to exalt the individual, at
the imminent risk of producing fearful perturbations in society, have
adopted as the constant theme of their instructions, this dignity and
nobility of man. They thus distinguish themselves in the most decided
manner from the democrats of antiquity; the latter acted in a narrow
sphere, without departing from a certain order of things, without
looking beyond the limits of their own country; in the spirit of modern
democrats, on the contrary, we find a tendency to invade all branches,
an ardent propagandism which embraces the whole world. They never
invoke mean ideas; _man, his reason, his imprescriptible rights_, these
are their perpetual theme. Ask them what is their design, and they will
tell you that they desire to level all things, to avenge the sacred
cause of humanity. This exaggeration of ideas, the pretext and motive
for so many crimes, shows us a valuable fact, viz. the immense progress
which Christianity has given to ideas with relation to the dignity
of our nature. When they have to mislead societies which owe their
civilization to Christianity, they find no better means than to invoke
the dignity of human nature. The Christian religion, the enemy of all
that is criminal, could not consent to see society overturned, under
the pretence of defending and raising the dignity of man; this is the
reason why a great number of the most ardent democrats have indulged in
insults and sarcasms against religion. On the other hand, as history
loudly proclaims that all our knowledge and feeling of what is true,
just, and reasonable on this point, is due to the Christian religion,
it has been recently attempted to make a monstrous alliance between
Christian ideas and the most extravagant of democratic theories. A
celebrated man has undertaken this enterprise; but true Christianity,
that is, Catholicity, rejects these adulterous alliances; it ceases
to acknowledge its most eminent apologists when they have quitted the
path of eternal truth. De Lamennais now wanders in the darkness of
error, embracing a deceitful shadow of Christianity; and the voice of
the supreme Pastor of the Church has warned the faithful against being
dazzled by the illusion of a name illustrious by so many titles.[16]
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PROGRESS OF INDIVIDUALITY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.
IF we give a just and legitimate meaning to the word individuality,
taking the feeling of personal independence in an acceptation which is
not repugnant to the perfection of the individual, and does not oppose
the constitutive principles of all society; moreover, if we seek the
various causes which have influenced the development of this feeling,
without speaking of that which we have already pointed out as one of
the most important, viz. the true notion of man, and his connections
with his fellows, we shall find many of them which are quite worthy of
attention in Catholicity. M. Guizot was greatly deceived when, putting
the faithful of the Church in the same rank with the ancient Romans,
he asserted that both were equally wanting in the feeling of personal
independence. He describes the faithful as absorbed by the association
of the Church, entirely devoted to her, ready to sacrifice themselves
for her; so that, according to him, it was the interests of the
association which induced them to act. There is an error here; but as
this error has originated in a truth, it is our duty to distinguish the
ideas and the facts with much attention.
There is no doubt that from the cradle of Christianity the faithful
have had an extreme attachment to the Church, and it was always well
understood among them, that they could not leave the communion of
the Church without ceasing to be numbered among the true disciples
of Jesus Christ. It is equally undeniable that, in the words of M.
Guizot, "There prevailed in the Christian Church a feeling of strong
attachment to the Christian corporation, of devotion to its laws, and
an ardent desire to extend its empire;" but it is not true that the
origin and source of all these feelings was the spirit of association
alone, to the exclusion of all development of real individuality.
The Christian belonged to an association, but that association was
regarded by him as a means of obtaining eternal happiness, as the ship
in which he was embarked, amid the tempests of the world, to arrive
safe in the port of eternity: and although he believed it impossible
to be saved out of the Church, he did not understand from that that
he was devoted to the Church, but to God. The Roman was ready to
sacrifice himself for his country; the Christian, for his faith. When
the Roman died, he died for his country; the faithful did not die for
the Church, but for God. If we open the monuments of Church history,
and read the acts of the martyrs, we shall then see what passed in
that terrible moment, when the Christian, fully arousing himself,
showed in the presence of the instruments of torture, burning piles,
and the most horrible punishments, the true principle which acted on
his mind. The judge asks his name; he declares it, and adds, "I am a
Christian." He is asked to sacrifice to the gods. "We only sacrifice to
one God, the Creator of heaven and earth." He is reproached with the
disgrace of following a man who has been nailed to the cross; for him
the ignominy of the cross is a glory, and he loudly proclaims that the
Crucified is his Saviour and his God. He is threatened with tortures;
he despises them, for they are passing, and rejoices in being able to
suffer something for his Master. The cross of punishment is already
prepared, the pile is lighted before his eyes, the executioner raises
the fatal axe to strike off his head; what does it matter to him? all
this is but for a moment, and after that moment comes a new life of
ineffable and endless happiness. We thus see what influenced his heart;
it was the love of his God and the interest of his eternal happiness.
Consequently, it is utterly false that the Christian, like men of the
ancient republics, destroyed his individuality in the association to
which he belonged, allowing himself to be absorbed in that association
like a drop of water in the immensity of ocean. The Christian belonged
to an association which gave him the rule of his faith and conduct;
he regarded that association as founded and directed by God himself;
but his mind and his heart were raised to God, and when following the
voice of the Church, he believed that he was engaged with his own
individual affair, which was nothing less than his eternal happiness.
This distinction is quite necessary in an affair which has relations
so various and delicate that the slightest confusion may produce
considerable errors. Here a hidden fact reveals itself to us, which
is infinitely precious, and throws much light upon the development
and perfecting of the individual in Christian civilization. It is
absolutely necessary that there should be a social order to which
the individual must submit; but it is also proper that he should not
be absorbed by society to such an extent that he cannot be conceived
but as forming part of it, and remains deprived of his own sphere
of action. If this were the case, never would true civilization be
completely developed; as it consists in the simultaneous perfecting of
the individual and of society, it is necessary, for its existence, that
both should have a well determined sphere, where their peculiar and
respective movements may not check and embarrass each other.
After these reflections, to which I especially call the attention of
all thinking men, I will point out a thing which has, perhaps, not yet
been remarked; it is, that Christianity has eminently contributed to
create that individual sphere in which man, without breaking the ties
which connect him with society, is free to develop all his peculiar
faculties. From the mouth of an Apostle went forth that generous
expression which strictly limits political power: "We ought to obey
God rather than man." (Acts v. 29.) "Obedire oportet Deo magis quam
hominibus." The Apostle thereby proclaims that the individual should
cease to acknowledge power, when power exacts from him what he believes
to be contrary to his conscience. It was among Christians that this
great example was witnessed for the first time; individuals of all
countries, of all ages, of both sexes, of all conditions, braving
the anger of authority, and all the fury of popular passions, rather
than pronounce a single word contrary to the principles which they
professed in the sanctuary of conscience; and this, not with arms in
their hands, in the midst of popular commotions, where their impetuous
passions are excited, which communicate to the mind temporary energy,
but in the solitude and obscurity of dungeons, amid the fearful
calmness of the tribunals, that is, in that situation where man, alone
and isolated, cannot show force and dignity without revealing the
elevation of his ideas, the nobleness of his feelings, the unalterable
firmness of his conscience, and the greatness of his soul. Christianity
engraved this truth deeply on the heart of man, that individuals
have duties to perform, even when the whole world is aroused against
them; that they have an immense destiny to fulfil, and that it is
entirely their own affair, the responsibility of which rests upon
their own free will. This important truth, unceasingly inculcated by
Christianity at all times, to both sexes, to all conditions, must have
powerfully contributed to excite in man an active and ardent feeling of
personality. This feeling, with all its sublimity, combining with the
other inspirations of Christianity, all full of dignity and grandeur,
has raised the human mind from the dust, where ignorance and rude
superstitions, and systems of violence, which oppressed it on all
sides, had placed and retained it. How strange and surprising to the
ears of Pagans must have been those energetic words of Justin, which
nevertheless expressed the disposition of mind of the majority of the
faithful, when, in his Apology, addressed to Antoninus Pius, he said,
"As we have not placed our hopes on present things, we contemn those
who kill us, death being, moreover, a thing which cannot be avoided."
This full and entire self-consciousness, this heroic contempt of
death, this calm spirit of a man who, supported by the testimony of
intimate feeling, sets at defiance all the powers of earth, must have
tended the more to enlarge the mind, as they did not emanate from
that cold stoical impassibility, the constant effort of which was to
struggle against the nature of things without any solid motive. The
Christian feeling had its origin in a sublime freedom from all that
is earthly, in a profound conviction of the holiness of duty, and in
that undeniable maxim, that man, in spite of all the obstacles which
the world places in his way, should walk with a firm step towards
the destiny which is marked out for him by his Creator. These ideas
and feelings together communicated to the soul a strong and vigorous
temper, which, without reaching in any thing the savage harshness of
the ancients, raised man to all his dignity, nobleness, and grandeur.
It must be observed that these precious effects were not confined to a
small number of privileged individuals, but that, in conformity with
the genius of the Christian religion, they extended to all classes; for
one of the noblest characters of that divine religion is the unlimited
expansion which it gives to all that is good; it knows no distinction
of persons, and makes its voice penetrate the obscurest places of
society. It was not only to the elevated classes and philosophers,
but to the generality of the faithful, that St. Cyprian, the light of
Africa, addressed himself, when, summing up in a few words all the
grandeur of man, he marked with a bold hand the sublime position where
our soul ought to maintain itself with constancy. "Never," he says,
"never will he who feels himself to be the child of God admire the
words of man. _He falls from his noblest state who can admire any thing
but God._" (_De Spectaculis._) Sublime words, which make us boldly
raise our heads, and fill our hearts with noble feelings; words which,
diffusing themselves over all classes, like a fertilizing warmth, were
capable of inspiring the humblest of men with what previously seemed
exclusively reserved for the transports of the poet:
Os homini sublime dedit, cœlumque tueri
Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere cultus.
The development of the moral life, the interior life, that life
in which man, reflecting on himself, is accustomed to render a
circumstantial account of all his actions, of the motives which actuate
him, of the goodness or the wickedness of those motives, and the
object to which they tend, is principally due to Christianity, to its
unceasing influence on man in all his conditions, in all situations, in
all moments of his life. Such a progress of the individual life in all
that it has most intimate, most active, and most interesting for the
heart of man, was incompatible with that absorption of the individual
by society, with that blind self-denial, in which man forgot himself,
to think only of the association of which he formed a part. This moral
and interior life was unknown to the ancients, because they wanted
principles for supporting, rules for guiding, and inspirations for
exciting and nourishing it. Thus at Rome, where the political element
tries its ascendency over minds, when enthusiasm becomes extinguished
by the effect of intestine dissensions, when every generous feeling
becomes stifled by the insupportable despotism which succeeds to the
last agitations of the republic, we see baseness and corruption develop
themselves with fearful rapidity. The activity of mind which before
occupied itself in debates of the Forum and the glorious exploits
of war, no longer finding food, gave itself up to sensual pleasures
with an abandonment which we can hardly imagine now-a-days, in spite
of the looseness of morals which we so justly deplore. Thus we see
among the ancients only these two extremes, either the most exalted
patriotism, or the complete prostration of the faculties of the soul,
which abandons itself without reserve to the dictates of its irregular
passions; there man was the slave either of his own passions, of
another man, or of society.
Since the moral tie which united men to Catholic society has been
broken, since religious belief has been weakened, in consequence of
the individual independence which Protestantism has proclaimed in
religious matters, it has unhappily become possible for us to conceive,
by means of examples found in European civilization, what man still
deprived of real knowledge of himself, his origin and destiny, must
have been. We will indicate in another place the points of resemblance
which are found between ancient and modern society in the countries
where the influence of religious ideas is enfeebled. It is enough now
to remark, that if Europe had completely lost Christianity, according
to the insane desires of some men, a generation would not have passed
away without there being revived among us the individual and society
such as they were among the ancients, except the modifications which
the difference of the material state of the two civilizations would
necessarily produce.
The doctrine of free will, so loudly proclaimed by Catholicity, and
sustained by her with such vigour, not only against the old Pagan
teaching, but particularly against sectarians at all times, and
especially against the founders of the pretended Reformation, has
also contributed more than is imagined to develop and perfect the
individual, to raise his ideas of independence, nobleness, and dignity.
When man comes to consider himself as constrained by the irresistible
force of destiny, and attached to a chain of events over which he has
no control--when he comes to suppose that the operations of his mind,
those active proofs of his freedom, are but vain illusions--he soon
annihilates himself; he feels himself assimilated to the brute; he
ceases to be the prince of living beings, the ruler of the earth; he
is nothing more than a machine fixed in its place, which is compelled
to perform its part in the great system of the universe. The social
order ceases to exist; merit and demerit, praise and blame, reward
and punishment, are only unmeaning words. If man enjoys or suffers,
it is only in the same way as a shrub, which is sometimes breathed
upon softly by the zephyrs, and sometimes blasted by the north wind.
How different it is when man is conscious of his liberty! Then he is
master of his destiny; good and evil, life and death, are before his
eyes; he can choose, and nothing can violate the sanctuary of his
conscience. There the soul is enthroned, there she is seated, full of
dignity, and the whole world raging against her, the universe falling
upon her fragile body, cannot force her will. The moral order is
displayed before us in all its grandeur; we see good in all its beauty,
and evil in all its deformity; the desire of doing well stimulates,
and the fear of doing ill restrains us; the sight of the recompense
which can be obtained by an effort of free will, and which appears
at the end of the path of virtue, renders that path more sweet and
peaceful, and communicates activity and energy to the soul. If man is
free, there remains something great and terrible, even in his crime, in
his punishment, and even in the despair of hell. What is man deprived
of liberty and yet punished? What is the meaning of this absurd
proposition, a chief dogma of the founders of Protestantism? This man
is a weak and miserable victim, in whose torture a cruel omnipotence
delights; a God who has created him in order to see him suffer; a
tyrant with infinite power, that is, the most dreadful of monsters. But
if man is free, when he suffers, he suffers because he has deserved
it; and if we contemplate him in the midst of despair, plunged into
an ocean of horrors, his brow furrowed by the just lightnings of the
Eternal, we seem to hear him still pronounce those terrible words with
a haughty bearing and proud look, _non serviam, I will not obey_.
In man, as in the universe, all is wonderfully united; all the
faculties of man have delicate and intimate relations with each other,
and the movement of one chord in the soul makes all the others vibrate.
It is necessary to call attention to this reciprocal dependence of all
our faculties on each other, in order to anticipate an objection which
may be made. We shall be told, all that has been said only proves that
Catholicity has developed the individual in a mystical sense. No, the
observations which I have made show something more than this; they
prove that we owe to Catholicity the clear idea and lively feeling
of moral order in all its greatness and beauty; they prove that we
owe her the real strength of what we call conscience, and that if the
individual believes himself to be called to a mighty destiny, confided
to his own free will, and the care of which belongs entirely to him, it
is to Catholicity he owes that belief; they prove that Catholicity has
given man the true knowledge which he has of himself, the appreciation
of his dignity, the respect which is paid to him as man; they prove
that she has developed in our souls the germs of the noblest and most
generous feelings; for she has raised our thoughts by the loftiest
conceptions, dilated our hearts by the assurance of a liberty which
nothing can take away, by the promise of an infinite reward, eternal
happiness, while she leaves in our hands life and death, and makes us
in a certain manner the arbiters of our own destiny. In all this there
is more than mere mysticism; it is nothing less than the development
of the entire man; nothing less than the true, the only noble, just,
and reasonable individuality; nothing less than the collected powerful
impulses which urge the individual towards perfection in every sense;
it is nothing less than the first, the most indispensable, the most
fruitful element of real civilization.
CHAPTER XXIV.
OF THE FAMILY.--MONOGAMY.--INDISSOLUBILITY OF THE CONJUGAL TIE.
WE have seen what the individual owes to Catholicity; let us now see
what the family owes her. It is clear that the individual, being the
first element of the family, if it is Catholicity which has tended
to perfect him, the improvement of the family will thus have been
very much her work; but without insisting on this inference, I wish
to consider the conjugal tie in itself, for which purpose it is
necessary to call attention to woman. I will not repeat here what she
was among the Romans, and what she is still among the nations who
are not Christians; history, and still more the literature of Greece
and Rome, afford us sad or rather shameful proofs on this subject;
and all the nations of the earth offer us too many evidences of the
truth and exactness of the observation of Buchanan, viz. that wherever
Christianity does not prevail, there is a tendency to the degradation
of woman. Perhaps on this point Protestantism will be unwilling to
give way to Catholicity; it will assert that in all that affects
woman the Reformation has in no degree prejudiced the civilization
of Europe. We will not now inquire what evils Protestantism has
occasioned in this respect; this question will be discussed in another
part of the work; but it cannot be doubted, that when Protestantism
appeared, the Catholic religion had already completed its task as far
as woman is concerned. No one, indeed, is ignorant that the respect
and consideration which are given to women, and the influence which
they exercise on society, date further back than the first part of
the 16th century. Hence it follows that Catholicity cannot have had
Protestantism as a coadjutor; it acted entirely alone in this point,
one of the most important of all true civilization; and if it is
generally acknowledged that Christianity has placed woman in the rank
which properly belongs to her, and which is most conducive to the good
of the family and of society, this is a homage paid to Catholicity; for
at the time when woman was raised from abjection, when it was attempted
to restore her to the rank of companion of man, as worthy of him, those
dissenting sects that also called themselves Christians did not exist,
and there was no other Christianity than the Catholic Church.
It has been already remarked in the course of this work, that when
I give titles and honours to Catholicity, I avoid having recourse
to vague generalities, and endeavour to support my assertions by
facts. The reader will naturally expect me to do the same here, and
to point out to him what are the means which Catholicity has employed
to give respect and dignity to woman; he shall not be deceived in his
expectation. First, and before descending to details, we must observe
that the grand ideas of Christianity with respect to humanity must
have contributed, in an extraordinary manner, to the improvement of
the lot of woman. These ideas, which applied without any difference
to woman as well as to man, were an energetic protest against the
state of degradation in which one-half of the human race was placed.
The Christian doctrine made the existing prejudices against woman
vanish for ever; it made her equal to man by unity of origin and
destiny, and in the participation of the heavenly gifts; it enrolled
her in the universal brotherhood of man, with his fellows and with
Jesus Christ; it considered her as the child of God, the coheiress of
Jesus Christ; as the companion of man, and no longer as a slave and
the vile instrument of pleasure. Henceforth that philosophy which had
attempted to degrade her, was silenced; that unblushing literature
which treated women with so much insolence found a check in the
Christian precepts, and a reprimand no less eloquent than severe in the
dignified manner in which all the ecclesiastical writers, in imitation
of the Scriptures, expressed themselves on woman. Yet, in spite of
the beneficent influence which the Christian doctrines must have
exercised by themselves, the desired end would not have been completely
attained, had not the Church undertaken, with the warmest energy, to
accomplish a work the most necessary, the most indispensable for the
good organization of the family and society, I mean the reformation of
marriage. The Christian doctrine on this point is very simple: _one
with one exclusively, and for ever_. But the doctrine would have been
powerless, if the Church had not undertaken to apply it, and if she had
not carried on this task with invincible firmness; for the passions,
above all those of man, rebel against such a doctrine; and they would
undoubtedly have trodden it under foot, if they had not met with an
insurmountable barrier, which did not leave them the most distant hope
of triumph. Can Protestantism, which applauded with such senseless joy
the scandal of Henry VIII., and accommodated itself so basely to the
desires of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, boast of having contributed
to strengthen that barrier? What a surprising difference! During many
centuries, amid circumstances the most various, and sometimes the
most terrible, the Catholic Church struggles with intrepidity against
the passions of potentates, to maintain unsullied the sanctity of
marriage. Neither promises nor threats could move Rome; no means could
obtain from her any thing contrary to the instructions of her Divine
Master: Protestantism, at the first shock, or rather at the first
shadow of the slightest embarrassment, at the mere fear of displeasing
a prince who certainly was not very powerful, yields, humbles itself,
consents to polygamy, betrays its own conscience, opens a wide door
to the passions, and gives up to them the sanctity of marriage, the
first pledge for the good of the family, the foundation-stone of true
civilization.
Protestant society on this point, wiser than the miscalled reformers
who attempted to guide it, with admirable good sense repudiated the
consequences of the conduct of its chiefs; although it did not preserve
the doctrines of Catholicity, it at least followed the salutary impulse
which it had received from them, and polygamy was not established
in Europe. But history records facts which show the weakness of the
pretended reformation, and the vivifying power of Catholicity. It tells
us to whom it is owing that the law of marriage, that palladium of
society, was not falsified, perverted, destroyed, amid the barbarous
ages, amid the most fearful corruption, violence, and ferocity, which
prevailed everywhere, as well at the time when invading nations passed
pell-mell over Europe, as in that of feudality, and when the power of
kings had already been preponderant,--history will tell what tutelary
force prevented the torrent of sensuality from overflowing with all
its violence, with all its caprices, from bringing about the most
profound disorganization, from corrupting the character of European
civilization, and precipitating it into that fearful abyss in which the
nations of Asia have been for so many centuries.
Prejudiced writers have carefully searched the annals of ecclesiastical
history for the differences between popes and kings, and have taken
occasion therein to reproach the Court of Rome with its intolerant
obstinacy respecting the sanctity of marriage; if the spirit of
party had not blinded them, they would have understood that, if this
intolerant obstinacy had been relaxed for a moment, if the Roman
Pontiff had given way one step before the impetuosity of the passions,
this first step once made, the descent into the abyss would have
been rapid; they would have admired the spirit of truth, the deep
conviction, the lively faith with which that august see is animated;
no consideration, no fear, has been able to silence her, when she
had occasion to remind all, and especially kings and potentates, of
this commandment: "They shall be two in one flesh; man shall not
separate what God has joined." By showing themselves inflexible on
this point, even at the risk of the anger of kings, not only have the
popes performed the sacred duty which was imposed on them by their
august character as chiefs of Christianity, but they have executed a
political _chef d'œuvre_, and greatly contributed to the repose and
well-being of nations. "For," says Voltaire, "the marriages of princes
in Europe decide the destiny of nations; and never has there been a
court entirely devoted to debauchery, without producing revolutions and
rebellions." (_Essai sur l'Histoire générale_, t. iii. c. 101.)
This correct remark of Voltaire will suffice to vindicate the pope,
together with Catholicity, from the calumnies of their wretched
detractors: it becomes still more valuable, and acquires an immense
importance, if it is extended beyond the limits of the political order
to the social. The imagination is affrighted at the thought of what
would have happened, if these barbarous kings, in whom the splendor
of the purple ill disguised the sons of the forest, if those haughty
seigneurs, fortified in their castles, clothed in mail, and surrounded
by their timid vassals, had not found a check in the authority of
the Church; if at the first glance at a new beauty, if at the first
passion which, when enkindled in their hearts, would have inspired
them with a disgust for their legitimate spouses, they had not had the
always-present recollection of an inflexible authority. They could,
it is true, load a bishop with vexations; they could silence him with
threats or promises; they might control the votes of a particular
Council by violence, by intrigue, by subornation; but, in the distance,
the power of the Vatican, the shadow of the Sovereign Pontiff, appeared
to them like an alarming vision; they then lost all hope; all struggles
became useless; the most violent endeavors would never have given them
the victory; the most astute intrigues, the most humble entreaties,
would have obtained the same reply: "One with one only, and for ever."
If we read but the history of the middle ages, of that immense scene
of violence, where the barbarian, striving to break the bonds which
civilization attempted to impose on him, appears so vividly; if we
recollect that the Church was obliged to keep guard incessantly and
vigilantly, not only to prevent the ties of a marriage from being
broken, but even to preserve virgins (and even those who were dedicated
to God) from violence; we shall clearly see that, if she had not
opposed herself, as a wall of brass, to the torrent of sensuality,
the palaces of kings and the castles of seigneurs would have speedily
become their seraglios and harems. What would have happened in the
other classes? They would have followed the same course; and the women
of Europe would have remained in the state of degradation in which
the Mussulman women still are. As I have mentioned the followers of
Mohammed, I will reply in passing to those who pretend to explain
monogamy and polygamy by climate alone. Christians and Mohammedans
have been for a long time under the same sky, and their religions have
been established, by the vicissitudes of the two races, sometimes in
cold and sometimes in mild and temperate climates; and yet we have not
seen the religions accommodate themselves to the climates; but rather,
the climates have been, as it were, forced to bend to the religions.
European nations owe eternal gratitude to Catholicity, which has
preserved monogamy for them, one of the causes which undoubtedly have
contributed the most to the good organization of the family, and the
exaltation of woman. What would now be the condition of Europe, what
respect would woman now enjoy, if Luther, the founder of Protestantism,
had succeeded in inspiring society with the indifference which he
shows on this point in his commentary on Genesis? "As to whether we
may have several wives," says Luther, "the authority of the patriarchs
leaves us completely free." He afterwards adds that "_it is a thing
neither permitted nor prohibited, and that he does not decide any
thing thereupon_." Unhappy Europe! if a man, who had whole nations as
followers, had uttered such words some centuries earlier, at the time
when civilization had not yet received an impulse strong enough to make
it take a decided line on the most important points, in spite of false
doctrines. Unhappy Europe! if at the time when Luther wrote, manners
had not been already formed, if the good organization given to the
family by Catholicity had not been too deeply rooted to be torn up by
the hand of man. Certainly the scandal of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel
would not then have remained an isolated example, and the culpable
compliance of the Lutheran doctors would have produced bitter fruits.
What would that vacillating faith, that uncertainty, that cowardice
with which the Protestant Church was seen to tremble at the mere demand
of such a prince as the Landgrave, have availed, to control the fierce
impetuosity of barbarous and corrupted nations? How would a struggle,
lasting for ages, have been sustained by those who, at the first
menace of battle, gave way, and were routed before the shock?
Besides monogamy, it may be said that there is nothing more important
than the indissolubility of marriage. Those who, departing from the
doctrine of the Church, think that it is useful in certain cases to
allow divorce, so as to dissolve the conjugal tie, and permit each
of the parties to marry again, still will not deny that they regard
divorce as a dangerous remedy, which the legislator only avails himself
of with regret, and only on account of crime or faithlessness; they
will see, also, that a great number of divorces would produce very
great evils, and that in order to prevent these in countries where the
civil laws allow the abuse of divorce, it is necessary to surround this
permission with all imaginable precaution; they will consequently grant
that the most efficacious manner of preventing corruption of manners,
of guarantying the tranquillity of families, and of opposing a firm
barrier to the torrent of evils which is ready to inundate society,
is to establish the indissolubility of marriage as a moral principle,
to base it upon motives which exercise a powerful ascendency over the
heart, and to keep a constant restraint on the passions, to prevent
them from slipping down so dangerous a declivity. It is clear that
there is no work more worthy of being the object of the care and zeal
of the true religion. Now, what religion but the Catholic has fulfilled
this duty? What other religion has more perfectly accomplished so
salutary and difficult a task? Certainly not Protestantism, for it
did not even know how to penetrate the depth of the reasons which
guided the conduct of the Church on this point. I have taken care to
do justice in another place to the wisdom which Protestant society has
displayed in not giving itself up entirely to the impulse which its
chiefs wished to communicate to it. But it must not be supposed from
this that Protestant doctrines have not had lamentable consequences in
countries calling themselves reformed. Let us hear what a Protestant
lady, Madame de Staël, says in her book on Germany, speaking of a
country which she loves and admires: "Love," she says, "is a religion
in Germany, but a poetical religion which tolerates very freely all
that sensibility can excuse. It cannot be denied that in the Protestant
provinces the facility of divorce is injurious to the sanctity of
marriage. _They change husbands as quietly as if they were arranging
the incidents of a drama_: the good nature of the man and woman
prevents the mixture of any bitterness with their easy ruptures; and
as there is among the Germans more imagination than real passion, the
most curious events take place with singular tranquillity. Yet it is
thus that manners and characters lose all consistency; the paradoxical
spirit destroys the most sacred institutions, and there are no well
established rules on any subject." (_De l'Allemagne_, p. 1, c. 3.)
Misled by their hatred against the Roman Church, and excited by their
rage for innovation in all things, the Protestants thought they had
made a great reform in secularizing marriage, if I may so speak, and in
rejecting the Catholic doctrine, which declared it a real sacrament.
This is not the place to enter upon a dogmatical discussion of this
matter; I shall content myself with observing, that by depriving
marriage of the august seal of a sacrament, Protestantism showed that
it had little knowledge of the human heart. To consider marriage, not
as a simple civil contract, but as a real sacrament, was to place it
under the august shade of religion, and to raise it above the stormy
atmosphere of the passions; and who can doubt that this was absolutely
necessary to restrain the most active, capricious, and violent passion
of the heart of man? The civil laws are insufficient to produce such
an effect. Motives are required, which, being drawn from a higher
source, exert a more efficacious influence. The Protestant doctrine
overturned the power of the Church with respect to marriage, and gave
up matters of this kind exclusively to the civil power. Some one will
perhaps think that the increase of the secular power on this point
could not but serve the cause of civilization, and that to drive the
ecclesiastical authority from this ground was a magnificent triumph
gained over exploded prejudices, a valuable victory over unjust
usurpation. Deluded man! If your mind possessed any lofty thought, if
your heart felt the vibration of those harmonious chords which display
the passions of man with so much delicacy and exactness, and teach the
best means of directing them, you would see, you would feel, that to
place marriage under the mantle of religion, and to withdraw it as much
as possible from profane interference, was to purify, to embellish,
and to surround it with the most enchanting beauty; for thus is that
precious treasure, which is blasted by a look, and tarnished by the
slightest breath, inviolably preserved. Would you not wish to have the
nuptial bed veiled and strictly guarded by religion?
CHAPTER XXV.
OF THE PASSION OF LOVE.
But it will be said to Catholics, "Do you not see that your doctrines
are too hard and rigorous? They do not consider the weakness and
inconstancy of the human heart, and require sacrifices above its
strength. Is it not cruel to attempt to subject the most tender
affections, the most delicate feelings, to the rigor of a principle?
Cruel doctrine, which endeavors to hold together, bound to each other
by a fatal tie, those who no longer love, who feel a mutual disgust,
who perhaps hate each other with a profound hatred! When you answer
these two beings who long to be separated, who would rather die than
remain united, with an eternal Never, showing them the divine seal
which was placed upon their union at the solemn moment, do you not
forget all the rules of prudence? Is not this to provoke despair?
Protestantism, accommodating itself to our infirmity, accedes more
easily to the demands, sometimes of caprice, but often also of
weakness; its indulgence is a thousand times preferable to your rigor."
This requires an answer; it is necessary to remove the delusion which
produces these arguments, too apt, unhappily, to mislead the judgment,
because they begin by seducing the heart. In the first place, it
is an exaggeration to say that the Catholic system reduces unhappy
couples to the extremity of despair. There are cases in which prudence
requires that they should separate, and then neither the doctrines
nor the practice of the Catholic Church oppose the separation. It is
true that this does not dissolve the conjugal tie, and that neither
of the parties can marry again. But it cannot be said that one of
them is subject to tyranny; they are not compelled to live together,
consequently they do not suffer the intolerable torment of remaining
united when they abhor each other. Very well, we shall be told, the
separation being pronounced, the parties are freed from the punishment
of living together; but they cannot contract new ties, consequently
they are forbidden to gratify another passion which, perhaps, their
heart conceals, and which may have been the cause of the disgust or the
hatred whence arose the unhappiness or discord of their first union.
Why not consider the marriage as altogether dissolved? Why should not
the parties become entirely free? Permit them to obey the feelings of
their hearts, which, newly fixed on another object, already foresee
happier days. Here, no doubt, the answer seems difficult, and the force
of the difficulty becomes urgent; but, nevertheless, it is here that
Catholicity obtains the most signal triumph; it is here it clearly
shows how profound is its knowledge of the heart of man, how prudent
its doctrines, and how wise and provident its conduct. Its rigor,
which seems excessive, is only necessary severity; this conduct, far
from meriting the reproach of cruelty, is a guarantee for the repose
and well-being of man. But it is a thing which it is difficult to
understand at first sight; thus we are compelled to develop this
matter by entering into a profound examination of the principles which
justify by the light of reason the conduct pursued by the Catholic
Church; let us examine this conduct, not only in respect to marriage,
but in all that relates to the direction of the heart of man.
In the direction of the passions there are two systems, the one of
compliance, the other of resistance. In the first of these they are
yielded to as they advance; an invincible obstacle is never opposed to
them; they are never left without hope. A line is traced around them
which, it is true, prevents them from exceeding a certain boundary; but
they are given to understand that if they come to place their foot upon
this limit, it will retire a little further; so that the compliance
is in proportion to the energy and obstinacy of their demands. In the
second system, a line is equally marked out to the passions which they
cannot pass; but it is a line fixed, immovable, and everywhere guarded
by a wall of brass. In vain do they attempt to pass it; they have not
even the shadow of hope; the principle which resists them will never
change, will never consent to any kind of compromise. Therefore, no
resource remains but to take that course which is always open to man,
that of sin. The first system allows the fire to break out, to prevent
an explosion; the second hinders the beginning of it, in the fear of
being compelled to arrest its progress. In the first, the passions are
feared and regulated at their birth, and hopes of restraining them when
they have grown up are entertained; in the second, it is thought that,
if it is difficult to restrain them when they are feeble, it will be
still more so when they are strengthened. In the one, they act on the
supposition that the passions are weakened by indulgence; in the other,
it is believed that gratification, far from satiating, only renders
them every day more devouring.
It may be said, generally speaking, that Catholicity follows the second
of these systems; that is to say, with respect to the passions, her
constant rule is to check them at the first step, to deprive them of
all hope from the first, and to stifle them, if possible, in their
cradle. It must be observed, that we speak here of the severity with
respect to the passions themselves, not with respect to man, who
is their prey; it is very consistent to give no truce to passion,
and to be indulgent towards the person under its influence; to be
inexorable towards the offence, and to treat the offender with extreme
mildness. With respect to marriage, this system has been acted on by
Catholicity with astonishing firmness; Protestantism has taken the
opposite course. Both are agreed on this point, that divorce, followed
by the dissolution of the conjugal tie, is a very great evil; but
there is this difference between them, that the Catholic system does
not leave even the hope of a conjuncture in which this dissolution
will be permitted; it forbids it absolutely, without any restriction;
it declares it impossible: the Protestant system, on the contrary,
consents to it in certain cases. Protestantism does not possess the
divine seal which guaranties the perpetuity of marriage, and renders it
sacred and inviolable; Catholicity does possess this seal, impresses
it on the mysterious tie, and from that moment marriage remains under
the shadow of an august symbol. Which of the two religions is the most
prudent in this point? Which acts with the most wisdom? To answer this
question, let us lay aside the dogmatical reasons, and the intrinsical
morality of the human actions which form the subject of the laws which
we are now examining; and let us see which of the two systems is the
most conducive to the difficult task of managing and directing the
passions. After having considered the nature of the human heart, and
consulted the experience of every day, it may be affirmed that the best
way to repress a passion is to leave it without hope; to comply with
it, to allow it continual indulgences, is to excite it more and more;
it is to play with fire amid a heap of combustibles, by allowing the
flame to be lit, from time to time, in the vain confidence of being
always able to put out the conflagration. Let us take a rapid glance
at the most violent passions of the heart of man, and observe what
is their ordinary course, according to the system which is pursued
in their regard. Look at the gambler, who is ruled by an indefinable
restlessness, which is made up of an insatiable cupidity and an
unbounded prodigality, at the same time. The most enormous fortune
will not satisfy him; and yet he risks all, without hesitation, to the
hazard of a moment. The man who still dreams of immense treasures amid
the most fearful misery, restlessly pursues an object which resembles
gold, but which is not it, for the possession thereof does not satisfy
him. His heart can only exist amid uncertainty, chances, and perils.
Suspended between hope and fear, he seems to be pleased with the rapid
succession of lively emotions which unceasingly agitate and torment
him. What remedy will cure this malady--this devouring fever? Will you
recommend to him a system of compliance? will you tell him to gamble,
but only to a certain amount, at certain times, and in certain places?
What will you gain by this? Nothing at all. If these means were good
for any thing, there would be no gambler in the world who would not be
cured of his passion; for there is no one who has not often marked out
for himself these limits, and often said to himself, "You shall only
play till such an hour, in such a place, and to such an amount." What
is the effect of these palliations--of these impotent precautions--on
the unhappy gambler? That he miserably deceives himself. The passion
consents, only in order to gain strength, and the better to secure the
victory: thus it gains ground; it constantly enlarges its sphere; and
leads its victim again into the same, or into greater excesses. Do
you wish to make a radical cure? If there be a remedy, it must be to
abstain completely; a remedy which may appear difficult at first, but
will be found the easiest in practice. When the passion finds itself
deprived of all hope, it will begin to diminish, and in the end will
disappear. No man of experience will raise the least doubt as to the
truth of what I have said; every one will agree with me, that the only
way to destroy the formidable passion of gambling is to deprive it at
once of all food, to leave it without hope.
Let us pass to another example, more analogous to the subject which I
intend to explain. Let us suppose a man under the influence of love.
Do you believe that the best way to cure his passion will be to give
him opportunities, even though very rare, of seeing the object of
his passion? Do you think that it will be salutary to authorize him
to _continue_, while you forbid him to _multiply_, these dangerous
interviews? Will such a precaution quench the flame which burns in his
heart? You may be sure that it will not. The limits will even augment
its force. If you allow it any food, even with the most parsimonious
hand, if you permit it the least success, you see it constantly
increase, until it upset every thing that opposes it. But take away
all hope, send the lover on a long journey, or place before him an
impediment which precludes the probability, or even the possibility,
of success; then, except in very rare cases, you will obtain at
first distraction, and then forgetfulness. Is not this the daily
teaching of experience? Is it not the remedy which necessity every
day suggests to the fathers of families? The passions resemble fire.
They are extinguished by a large quantity of water; but a few drops
only render them more ardent. Let us raise our thoughts still higher;
let us observe the passions acting in a wider field, in more extended
regions. Whence comes it that so many strong passions are awakened
at times of public disturbance? It is, because then they all hope to
be gratified; it is, because the highest ranks, the oldest and most
powerful institutions, having been overturned, and replaced by others,
which were hitherto imperceptible, all the passions see a road open
before them, amid the tempest and confusion; the barriers apparently
insurmountable, the sight of which prevented their existence, or
strangled them in the cradle, do not exist; as all is then unprotected
and defenceless, it is only required to have boldness and intrepidity
enough to stand amid the ruins of all that was old.
Regarding things in the abstract, there is nothing more strikingly
absurd than hereditary monarchy, the succession secured to a family
which may at any time place on the throne a child, a fool, or a wretch:
and yet in practice there is nothing more wise, prudent, and provident.
This has been taught by the long experience of ages, it has been shown
by reason, and proved by the sad warnings of those nations who have
tried elective monarchy. Now, what is the cause of this? It is what
we are endeavoring to explain. Hereditary monarchy precludes all the
hopes of irregular ambition; without that, society always contains a
germ of trouble, a principle of revolt, which is nourished by those
who conceive a hope of one day obtaining the command. In quiet times,
and under an hereditary monarchy, a subject, however rich, however
distinguished he may be for his talent or his valour, cannot, without
madness, hope to be king; and such a thought never enters his head.
But change the circumstances,--admit, I will not say, the probability,
but the possibility of such an event, and you will see that there will
immediately be ardent candidates.
It would be easy to develop this doctrine more at length, and apply
it to all the passions of man; but enough has been said to show that
the first thing to be done when you have to subdue a passion, is to
oppose to it an insurmountable barrier, which it can have no hope of
passing. Then the passion rages for a little time, it rebels against
the obstacle that resists it; but when it finds that to be immovable,
it recedes, it is cast down, and, like the waves of the sea, it falls
back murmuring to the level which has been marked out for it.
There is a passion in the heart of man, a passion which exerts a
powerful influence on the destinies of his life, and too often, by its
deceitful illusions, forms a long chain of sadness and misfortune. This
passion, which has for its necessary object the preservation of the
human race, is found, in some form, in all the beings of nature; but,
inasmuch as it resides in the soul of an intelligent being, it assumes
a peculiar character in man. In brutes, it is only an instinct, limited
to the preservation of the species; in man, the instinct becomes a
passion; and that passion, enlivened by the fire of imagination,
rendered subtile by the powers of the mind, inconstant and capricious,
because it is guided by a free will, which can indulge in as many whims
as there are different impressions for the senses and the heart, is
changed into a vague, fickle feeling, which is never contented, and
which nothing can satisfy. Sometimes it is the restlessness of a man
in a fever; sometimes the frenzy of a madman; sometimes a dream, which
ravishes the soul into regions of bliss; sometimes the anguish and
the convulsions of agony. Who can describe the variety of forms under
which this deceitful passion presents itself? Who can tell the number
of snares which it lays for the steps of unhappy mortals? Observe it
at its birth, follow it in its career, up to the moment when it dies
out like an expiring lamp. Hardly has the down appeared on the face of
man, when there arises in his heart a mysterious feeling, which fills
him with trouble and uneasiness, without his being aware of the cause.
A pleasing melancholy glides into his heart, thoughts before unknown
enter his mind, seductive images pervade his imagination, a secret
attraction acts on his soul, unusual gravity appears in his features,
all his inclinations take a new direction. The games of childhood no
longer please him; every thing shows a new life, less innocent, less
tranquil; the tempest does not yet rage, the sky is not darkened, but
clouds, tinged with fire, are the sad presage of what is to come.
When he becomes adolescent, that which was hitherto a feeling, vague,
mysterious, incomprehensible, even to himself, becomes, from that
time, more decided; objects are seen more clearly, they appear in
their real nature; the passion sees, and seizes on them. But do not
imagine that it becomes more constant on that account. It is as vain,
as changeable, as capricious as the multitude of objects which by
turns present themselves to it. It is constantly deluded, it pursues
fleeting shadows, seeks a satisfaction which it never finds, and
awaits a happiness which it never attains. With an excited imagination,
a burning heart, with his whole soul transported, and all his faculties
subdued, the ardent young man is surrounded by a brilliant chain of
illusions; he communicates these to all that environs him; he gives
greater splendor to the light of heaven, he clothes the earth with
richer verdure and more brilliant coloring, he sheds on all the
reflection of his own enchantment.
In manhood, when the thoughts are more grave and fixed, when the heart
is more constant, the will more firm, and resolutions more lasting;
when the conduct which governs the destinies of life is subjected
to rule, and, as it were, confirmed in its faith, this mysterious
passion continues to agitate the heart of man, and it torments him
with unceasing disquietude. We only observe that the passion is become
stronger and more energetic, owing to the development of the physical
organization; the pride which inspires man with independence of life,
the feeling of greater strength, and the abundance of new powers,
render him more decided, bold, and violent; while the warnings and
lessons of experience have made him more provident and crafty. We
no longer see the candor of his earlier years. He now knows how to
calculate; he is able to approach his object by covert ways, and to
choose the surest means. Woe to the man who does not provide in time
against such an enemy! His existence will be consumed by a fever of
agitation; amid disquietudes and torments, if he does not die in the
flower of his age, he will grow old still ruled by this fatal passion;
it will accompany him to the tomb, surrounding him, in his last days,
with those repulsive and hideous forms which are exhibited in a
countenance furrowed by years, and in eyes which are already veiled by
the shades of death.
What plan should be adopted to restrain this passion, to confine it
within just limits, and prevent its bringing misfortune to individuals,
disorder to families, and confusion to society? The invariable rule
of Catholicity, in the morality which she teaches, as well as in the
institutions which she establishes, is repression; Catholicism does not
allow a desire she declares to be culpable in the eyes of God; even a
look, when accompanied by an impure thought. Why this severity? For two
reasons; on account of the intrinsic morality which there is in this
prohibition; and also, because there is profound wisdom in stifling the
evil at its birth. It is certainly easier to prevent a man's consenting
to evil desires, than it is to hinder his gratifying them when he has
allowed them to enter his inflamed heart. There is profound reason in
securing tranquillity to the soul, by not allowing it to remain, like
Tantalus, with the water at his burning lips. "Quid vis videre, quod
non licet habere?" Why do you wish to see that which you are forbidden
to possess? is the wise observation of the author of the admirable
Imitation of Christ; thus summing up, in a few words, all the prudence
which is contained in the holy severity of the Christian doctrine.
The ties of marriage, by assigning a legitimate object to the passions,
still do not dry up the source of agitation and the capricious
restlessness which the heart conceals. Possession cloys and disgusts,
beauty fades and decays, the illusions vanish, and the charms
disappear; man, in the presence of a reality which is far from reaching
the beauty of the dreams inspired by his ardent imagination, feels new
desires arise in his heart; tired with what he possesses, he entertains
new illusions; he seeks elsewhere the ideal happiness which he thought
he had found, and quits the unpleasing reality which thus deceives his
brightest hopes.
Give, then, the reins to the passions of man; allow him in any way to
entertain the illusion that he can make himself any new ties; permit
him to believe that he is not attached for ever, and without recall, to
the companion of his life; and you will see that disgust will soon take
possession of him, that discord will be more violent and striking,
that the ties will begin to wear out before they are contracted, and
will break at the first shock. Proclaim, on the contrary, a law which
makes no exception of poor or rich, weak or powerful, vassals or kings,
which makes no allowance for difference of situation, of character,
health, or any of those numberless motives which, in the hands of
passions, and especially those of powerful men, are easily changed into
pretexts; proclaim that this law is from heaven, show a divine seal
on the marriage tie, tell the murmuring passions that if they will
gratify themselves they must do so by immorality; tell them that the
power which is charged with the preservation of this divine law will
never make criminal compliances, that it will never dispense with the
infraction of the divine law, and that the crime will never be without
remorse; you will then see the passions become calm and resigned; the
law will be diffused and strengthened, will take root in customs; you
will have secured the good order and tranquillity of families for ever,
and society will be indebted to you for an immense benefit. Now this is
exactly what Catholicity has done, by efforts which lasted for ages;
it is what Protestantism would have destroyed, if Europe had generally
followed its doctrine and example, if the people had not been wiser
than their deceitful guides.
Protestants and false philosophers, examining the doctrines and
institutions of the Catholic Church through their prejudices and
animosity, have not understood the admirable power of the two
characteristics impressed at all times and in all places on the
ideas and works of Catholicity, viz. _unity and fixity_; _unity_ in
doctrines, and _fixity_ in conduct. Catholicity points out an object,
and wishes us to pursue it straight forward. It is a reproach to
philosophers and Protestants, that after having declaimed against unity
of doctrine, they also declaimed against fixity of conduct. If they had
reflected on man, they would have understood that this fixity is the
secret of guiding and ruling him, and, when desirable of restraining
his passions, of exalting his mind when necessary, and of rendering
him capable of great sacrifices and heroic actions. There is nothing
worse for man than uncertainty and indecision; nothing that weakens
and tends more to make him useless. Indecision is to the will what
skepticism is to the mind. Give a man a definite object, and if he will
devote himself to it, he will attain it. Let him hesitate between two
different ways, without a fixed rule to guide his conduct; let him be
ignorant of his intention; let him not know whither he is going, and
you will see his energy relax, his strength diminish, and he will stop.
Do you know by what secret great minds govern the world? Do you know
what renders them capable of heroic actions? And how all those who
surround them are rendered so? It is that they have a fixed object,
both for themselves and for others; it is that they see that object
clearly, desire it ardently, strive after it directly, with firm hope
and lively faith, without allowing any hesitation in themselves or in
others. Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, and the other heroes of ancient
and modern times, no doubt exercised a fascinating influence by the
ascendency of their genius; but the secret of this ascendency, the
secret of their power, and of that force of impulse by which they
surmounted all, was the unity of thought, the fixity of plan, which
produced in them that invincible, irresistible character which gave
them an immense superiority over other men. Thus Alexander passed the
Granicus, undertook and completed his wonderful conquest of Asia; thus
Cæsar passed the Rubicon, put Pompey to flight, triumphed at Pharsalia,
and made himself master of the world; thus did Napoleon disperse
those who parleyed about the fate of France, conquered his enemies at
Marengo, obtained the crown of Charlemagne, alarmed and astonished the
world by the victories of Austerlitz and Jena.
Without unity there is no order, without fixity there is no stability;
and in the moral as in the physical world, without order and stability
nothing prospers. Protestantism, which has pretended to advance the
individual and society by destroying religious unity, has introduced
into creeds and institutions the multiplicity and fickleness of private
judgment; it has everywhere spread confusion and disorder, and has
altered the nature of European civilization by inoculating it with
a disastrous principle which has caused and will continue to cause
lamentable evils. And let it not be supposed, that Catholicity, on
account of the unity of her doctrines and the fixity of her conduct,
is opposed to the progress of ages. There is nothing to prevent that
which is _one_ from advancing, and there may be movement in a system
which has some fixed points. The universe whose grandeur astonishes
us, whose prodigies fill us with admiration, whose beauty and variety
enchant us, is united, is ruled by laws constant and fixed. Behold some
of the reasons which justify the strictness of Catholicity, behold why
she has not been able to comply with the demands of a passion which,
once let loose, has no boundary or barrier, introduces trouble into
hearts, disorder into families, takes away the dignity of manners,
dishonors the modesty of women, and lowers them from the noble rank
of the companions of men. I do not deny that Catholicity is strict
on this point; but she could not give up this strictness without
renouncing at the same time the sublime functions of the depository of
sound morality, the vigilant sentinel which guards the destinies of
humanity.[17]
CHAPTER XXVI.
VIRGINITY IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT.
We have seen, in the fifteenth chapter, with what jealousy Catholicity
endeavors to veil the secrets of modesty; with what perseverance she
imposes the restraint of morality on the most impetuous passion of
the human heart. She shows us all the importance which belongs to
the contrary virtue, by crowning with peerless splendor the total
abstinence from sensual pleasure, viz. virginity. Frivolous minds,
and principally those who are inspired by a voluptuous heart, do not
understand how much Catholicity has thus contributed to the elevation
of woman; but such will not be the case with reflecting men who are
capable of seeing that all that tends to raise to the highest degree
of delicacy the feeling of modesty, all that fortifies morality, all
that contributes to make a considerable number of women models of the
most heroic virtue, equally tends to place women above the atmosphere
of gross passion. Woman then ceases to be presented to the eyes of man
as the mere instrument of pleasure; none of the attractions with which
nature has endowed her are lost or diminished, and she has no longer to
dread becoming an object of contempt and disgust, after having been the
unhappy victim of profligacy.
The Catholic Church is profoundly acquainted with these truths; and
while she watched over the sanctity of the conjugal tie, while she
created in the bosom of the family this admirable dignity of the
matron, she covered with a mysterious veil the countenance of the
Christian virgin, and she carefully guarded the spouses of the Lord in
the seclusion of the sanctuary. It was reserved for Luther, the gross
profaner of Catharine de Boré, to act in defiance of the profound
and delicate wisdom of the Church on this point. After the apostate
monk had violated the sacred seal set by religion on the nuptial bed,
his was the unchaste hand to tear away the sacred veil of virgins
consecrated to God: it was worthy of his hard heart to excite the
cupidity of princes, to induce them to seize upon the possessions
of these defenceless virgins, and expel them from their abodes. See
him everywhere excite the flame of sensuality, and break through all
control. What will become of virgins devoted to the sanctuary? Like
timid doves, will they not fall into the snares of the libertine? Is
this the way to increase the respect paid to the female sex? Is this
the way to increase the feeling of modesty and to advance humanity?
Was this the way in which Luther gave a generous impulse to future
generations, perfected the human mind, and gave vigor and splendor to
refinement and civilization? What man with a tender and sensitive heart
can endure the shameless declamation of Luther, especially if he has
read the Cyprians, the Ambroses, the Jeromes, and the other shining
lights of the Catholic Church, on the sublime honor of the Christian
virgin? Who, then, will object to see, during ages when the most savage
barbarism prevailed, those secluded dwellings where the spouses of the
Lord secured themselves from the dangers of the world, incessantly
employed in raising their hands to heaven, to draw down upon the earth
the dews of divine mercy? In times and countries the most civilized,
how sad is the contrast between the asylums of the purest and loftiest
virtue, and the ocean of dissipation and profligacy! Were these abodes
a remnant of ignorance, a monument of fanaticism, which the coryphæi of
Protestantism did well to sweep from the earth? If this be so, let us
protest against all that is noble and disinterested; let us stifle in
our hearts all enthusiasm for virtue; let every thing be reduced to the
grossest sensuality; let the painter throw away his pencil, the poet
his lyre; let us forget our greatness and our dignity; let us degrade
ourselves, saying, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die!"
No; true civilization can never forgive Protestantism for this immoral
and impious work; true civilization can never forgive it for having
violated the sanctuary of modesty and innocence, for having employed
all its efforts to destroy respect for virginity; thus treading under
foot a doctrine professed by all the human race. It did not respect
what was venerated by the Greeks in the priestesses of Ceres, by the
Romans in their vestals, by the Gauls in their druidesses, by the
Germans in their prophetesses. It has carried the want of respect for
modesty farther than was ever done by the dissolute nations of Asia,
and the barbarians of the new world. It is certainly a disgrace for
Europe to have attacked what was respected in all parts of the world,
to have treated as a mistaken prejudice the universal belief of the
human race, sanctioned, moreover, by Christianity. What invasion of
barbarians was equal to this attack of Protestantism on all that ought
to be most inviolable among men? It has set the fatal example in modern
revolutions of the crimes which have been committed.
When we see, in warlike rage, the barbarity of the conquerors remove
all restraint from a licentious soldiery, and let them loose against
the abodes of virgins consecrated to God, there is nothing but what
may be conceived. But when these holy institutions are persecuted by
system, when the passions of the populace are excited against them, by
grossly assailing their origin and object, this is more than brutal and
inhuman. It is a thing which cannot be described, when those who act in
this way boast of being Reformers, followers of the pure Gospel, and
proclaim themselves the disciples of Him who, in His sublime councils,
has pointed out virginity as one of the noblest virtues that can adorn
the Christian's crown. Now, who is ignorant that this was one of the
works to which Protestantism devoted itself with the greatest ardor?
Woman without modesty will be an incentive to sensuality, but will
never attract the soul by the mysterious feeling which is called love.
It is very remarkable, that although the most urgent desire of the
heart of woman is to please, yet as soon as she forgets modesty she
becomes displeasing and disgusting. Thus it is wisely ordained that
what wounds her heart the most sharply, becomes the punishment of her
fault. Hence, every thing that maintains in woman the delicate feeling
of modesty, elevates her, adorns her, gives her greater ascendency
over the heart of man, and creates for her a distinguished place in
the domestic as well as in the social order. These truths were not
understood by Protestantism when it condemned virginity. It is true
this virtue is not a necessary condition of modesty, but it is its
_beau idéal_ and type of perfection; and certainly we cannot destroy
this model, by denying its beauty, by condemning its imitation as
injurious, without doing great injury to modesty itself, which,
continually struggling against the most powerful passion of the heart
of man, cannot be preserved in all its purity, unless it be accompanied
by the greatest precautions. Like a flower of infinite delicacy, of
ravishing colours, of the sweetest perfume, it can scarcely support
the slightest breath of wind; its beauty is destroyed with extreme
facility, and its perfume readily evaporates.
But you will perhaps urge against virginity the injury which it does to
population; you will consider the offerings which are made on the altar
by this virtue as so much taken from the multiplication of the human
race. Fortunately the observations of the most distinguished political
economists have destroyed this delusion, originated by Protestantism,
and supported by the incredulous philosophy of the 18th century. Facts
have shown, in a convincing manner, two truths of equal importance in
vindicating Catholic doctrines and institutions; 1, that the happiness
of nations is not necessarily in proportion to the increase of their
population; 2, that the augmentation and diminution of the population
depend on many concurrent causes; that religious celibacy, if it be
among them, has an insignificant influence.
A false religion and an illegitimate and egotistical philosophy have
attempted to assimilate the secrets of this increase of the human race
to that of other living beings. All idea of religion has been taken
away; they have seen in humanity only a vast field where nothing was to
be left sterile. Thus they have prepared the way for the doctrine which
considers individuals as machines from which all possible profit should
be drawn. No more was thought of charity, or the sublime instructions
of religion with respect to the dignity and destinies of man; thus
industry has become cruel, and the organization of labor, established
on a basis purely material, increases the present, but fearfully
menaces the future well-being of the rich.
How profound are the designs of Providence! The nation which has
carried these fatal principles to the fullest extent now finds itself
overcharged with men and products. Frightful misery devours her most
numerous classes, and all the ability of her rulers will not be able to
avoid the rock she is running on, urged by the power of the elements to
which she has abandoned herself. The eminent professors of Oxford who,
it seems, begin to see the radical vices of Protestantism, would find
here a rich subject for meditation, if they would examine how far the
pretended reformers of the 16th century have contributed, in preparing
the critical situation in which England finds herself, in spite of her
immense progress.
In the physical world all is disposed by number, weight, and measure;
the laws of the universe show infinite calculation--infinite geometry;
but let us not imagine that we can express all by our imperfect signs,
and include every thing in our limited combinations; let us, above all,
avoid the foolish error of assimilating too much the moral and the
physical world--of applying indiscriminately to the first what only
belongs to the second, and of upsetting by our pride the mysterious
harmony of the creation. Man is not born simply for multiplication of
his species; this is not the only part which he is intended to perform
in the great machine of the universe; he is a being according to the
image and likeness of God--a being who has his proper destiny--a
destiny superior to all that surrounds him on earth. Do not debase him,
do not level him with the earth, by inspiring him with earthly thoughts
alone; do not oppress his heart, by depriving him of noble and elevated
sentiments--by leaving him no taste for any but material enjoyments.
If religious thoughts lead him to an austere life--if the inclination
to sacrifice the pleasures of this life on the altar of the God whom
he adores takes possession of his heart--why should you hinder him?
What right have you to despise a feeling which certainly requires
greater strength of mind than is necessary for abandoning one's self to
pleasure?
These considerations, which affect both sexes, have still greater force
when they are applied to the female. With her lively imagination,
her feeling heart, and ardent mind, she has greater need than man of
serious inspiration, of grave, solemn thoughts, to counterbalance the
activity with which she flies from object to object, receiving with
extreme facility impressions of every thing she touches, and, like a
magnetic agent, communicating them in her turn to all that surrounds
her. Allow, then, a portion of that sex to devote itself to a life of
contemplation and austerity; allow young girls and matrons to have
always before their eyes a model of all the virtues--a sublime type
of their noblest ornament, which is modesty. This will certainly not
be without utility. Be assured, these virgins are not taken away from
their families, nor from society--both will recover with usury what you
imagine they have lost.
In fact, who can measure the salutary influence which the sacred
ceremonies with which the Catholic Church celebrates the consecration
of a virgin to God, must have exercised on female morals! Who can
calculate the holy thoughts, the chaste inspirations which have gone
forth from those silent abodes of modesty, erected sometimes in
solitary places, and sometimes in crowded cities! Do you not believe
that the virgin whose heart begins to be agitated by an ardent passion,
that the matron who has allowed dangerous feelings to enter her soul,
have not often found their passions restrained by the remembrance of
a sister, a relative, a friend, who, in one of these silent abodes,
raises her pure heart to Heaven, offering as a holocaust to the Divine
Son of the blessed Virgin all the enchantments of youth and beauty?
All this cannot be calculated, it is true; but this, at least, is
certain, that no thought of levity, no inclination to sensuality has
arisen therefrom. All this cannot be estimated; but can we estimate
the salutary influence exercised by the morning dew upon plants? can
we estimate the vivifying effect of light upon nature? and can we
understand how the water which filters through the bowels of the earth
fertilizes it by producing fruits and flowers?
There is, then, an infinity of causes of which we cannot deny the
existence and the power, but which it is nevertheless impossible to
submit to rigorous examination. The cause of the impotence of every
work exclusively emanating from the mind of man is, that his mind is
incapable of embracing the _ensemble_ of the relations which exist in
facts of this kind; it is impossible for him to appreciate properly the
indirect influences--sometimes hidden, sometimes imperceptible--which
act there with an infinite delicacy. This is the reason why time
dispels so many illusions, belies so many prognostics, proves the
weakness of what was reckoned strong, and the strength of what was
considered weak. Indeed, time brings to light a thousand relations, the
existence of which was not suspected, and puts into action a thousand
causes which were either unknown or despised: the results advance in
their development, appearing every day in a more evident manner, until
at length we find ourselves in such a situation that we can no longer
shut our eyes to the evidence of facts, or any longer evade their force.
One of the greatest mistakes made by the opponents of Catholicity is
this. They can only see things under one aspect; they do not understand
how a force can act otherwise than in a straight line; they do not see
that the moral world, as well as the physical, is composed of relations
infinitely varied, and of indirect influences, sometimes acting with
more force than if they were direct. All form a system correlative and
harmonious, the parts of which it is necessary to avoid separating,
more than is absolutely needful for becoming acquainted with the hidden
and delicate ties which connect the whole. It is necessary, moreover,
to allow for the action of time, that indispensable element in all
complete development, in every lasting work.
I trust I shall be pardoned for this short digression, necessary for
the inculcation of the great truths which have not been sufficiently
attended to in examining the great institutions founded by Catholicity.
Philosophy is now compelled to withdraw propositions advanced too
boldly, and to modify principles applied too generally. It would
have avoided this trouble and mortification by being cautious and
circumspect in its investigations. In league with Protestantism,
it declared deadly war against the great Catholic institutions; it
loudly appealed against moral and religious centralization. And now
a unanimous shout is raised from all quarters of the world in favour
of the principle of unity. The instinct of nations seeks for it;
philosophers examine the secrets of science to discover it. Vain
efforts! No other foundation can be established than that which is
already laid; duration depends upon solidity.
CHAPTER XXVII.
OF CHIVALRY AND BARBARIAN MANNERS, IN THEIR INFLUENCE ON THE CONDITION
OF WOMEN.
An indefatigable zeal for the sanctity of marriage, and an anxious
solicitude to carry the principle of modesty to the highest degree
of delicacy, are the two rules which have guided Catholicity in her
efforts for the elevation of woman. These are the two great means she
has employed in attaining her object, and hence comes the influence
and importance of women in Europe. M. Guizot is, therefore, wrong in
saying that "it is to the development, to the necessary preponderance
of domestic manners in the feudal system, that this change, this
improvement in their condition is chiefly owing." I will not discuss
the greater or less influence of the feudal system on the development
of European manners. Undoubtedly when the feudal lord "shall have his
wife, his children, and scarcely any others in his house, they alone
will form his permanent society; they alone will share his interests,
his destiny. It is impossible for domestic influence not to acquire
great power." (_Leçon 4._) But if the lord, returning to his castle,
found one wife there, and not many, to what was that owing? Who forbade
him to abuse his power by turning his house into a harem? Who bridled
his passions and prevented his making victims of his timid vassals?
Surely these were the doctrines and morals introduced into Europe,
and deeply rooted there by the Catholic Church; it was the strict
laws which she imposed as a barrier to the invasions of the passions;
therefore, even if we suppose that feudality did produce this good, it
is still owing to the Catholic Church.
That which has no doubt tended to exaggerate the influence of feudality
in all that raises and ennobles women, is a fact that appears very
evidently at that period, and is dazzling at first sight. This is the
brilliant spirit of chivalry, which, rising out of the bosom of the
feudal system, and rapidly diffusing itself, produced the most heroic
actions, gave birth to a literature rich in imagination and feeling,
and contributed in great measure to soften and humanize the savage
manners of the feudal lords. This period is particularly distinguished
for the spirit of gallantry; not the gallantry which consists generally
in the tender relations of the two sexes, but a greatly exaggerated
gallantry on the part of man, combining, in a remarkable way, the most
heroic courage with the most lively faith and the most ardent religion.
God and his lady; such is the constant thought of the knight; this
absorbs all his faculties, occupies all his time, and fills up all
his existence. As long as he can obtain a victory over the infidels,
and is supported by the hope of offering at the feet of his lady the
trophies of his triumph, no sacrifice costs him any thing, no journey
fatigues, no danger affrights, no enterprise discourages him. His
excited imagination transports him into a world of fancy; his heart
is on fire; he undertakes all, he finishes all; and the man who has
just fought like a lion on the plains of Spain, or of Palestine, melts
like wax at the name of the idol of his heart; then he turns his eyes
amorously towards his country, and is intoxicated with the idea that
one day, sighing under the castle of his beloved, he may obtain a
pledge of her affection, or a promise of love. Woe to any one who is
bold enough to dispute his treasure, or indiscreet enough to fix his
eyes on those battlements. The lioness who has been robbed of her cubs
is not more terrible, the forest torn to pieces by the hurricane is
not more agitated than his heart; nothing can stop his vengeance, _he
must destroy his rival or die_. In examining this mixture of mildness
and ferocity, of religion and passion, which, no doubt, has been
exaggerated by the fancies of chroniclers and troubadours, but which
must have had a real type, we shall observe that it was very natural
at that time, and that it is not so contradictory as it appears at
first sight. Indeed, nothing was more natural than violent passions
among men whose ancestors, not long before, had come from the forests
of the north to pitch their bloody tents on the site of ruined cities;
nothing was more natural than that there should be no other judge than
strength of arm among men whose only profession was war, and who lived
in an embryo society, where there was no public law strong enough to
restrain private passions. Nothing, too, was more natural to those
men than a lively sense of religion, for religion was the only power
which they acknowledged; she had enchanted their imaginations by the
splendour and magnificence of her temples, by the majesty and pomp of
her worship. She had filled them with astonishment, by placing before
their eyes the most sublime virtue, by addressing them in language as
lofty as it was sweet and insinuating; language, no doubt, imperfectly
understood by them, but which, nevertheless, convinced them of the
holiness and divinity of the Christian mysteries and precepts, inspired
them with respect and admiration, and also exercising a powerful
influence on their minds, enkindled enthusiasm and produced heroism.
Thus we see that all that was good in this exalted sentiment emanated
from religion; if we take away faith, we shall find nothing but the
barbarian, who knew no other law than his spear, and no other rule of
conduct than the inspirations of his fiery soul.
The more we penetrate into the spirit of chivalry and examine in
particular the feelings which it professed towards women, the more
we shall see that, instead of raising them, it supposes them already
raised and surrounded by respect. Chivalry does not give a new place
to women; it finds them already honoured and respected; and indeed,
if it were not so, how could it imagine a gallantry so exaggerated,
so fantastical? But if we imagine to ourselves the beauty of a virgin
covered by the veil of Christian modesty; if we imagine this charm
increased by illusion, we shall then understand the madness of the
knight. If we imagine, at the same time, the virtuous matron, the
companion of man, the mother of a family, the only woman in whom were
concentrated all the affections of husband and children, the Christian
wife, we shall understand why the knight was intoxicated at the mere
idea of obtaining so much happiness, why his love was more than a
sensual feeling, it was a respect, a veneration, a worship.
It has been attempted to find the origin of this kind of worship in
the manners of the Germans; on the strength of some expressions of
Tacitus, the social amelioration of woman's lot has been attributed
to the respect with which the barbarians surrounded her. M. Guizot
rejects this assertion, and justly combats it by observing that what
Tacitus tells us of the Germans was not exclusively applicable to
them, since "phrases similar to those of Tacitus, and sentiments and
customs analogous to those of the ancient Germans, are met with in the
statements of many observers of savage or barbarous nations." Yet in
spite of this wise remark, the same opinion has been maintained: it is
necessary, then, to combat it again.
The passage of Tacitus is this: "Inesse quin etiam sanctum aliquid
et providum putant, nec aut consilia eorum aspernantur, aut responsa
negligunt. Vidimus sub Divo Vespasiano Velledam diu apud plerosque
numinis loco habitare." (_De Mor. Germ._) "They go so far as to think
that there is in women something holy and prophetical; they do not
despise their counsels, and they listen to their predictions. In the
time of the divine Vespasian, we have seen the greater part of them
for a long time regard Velleda as a goddess." It seems to me that it
is mistaking the passage of Tacitus, to extend its meaning to domestic
manners, and to see in it a trait of married life. If we attend to
the historian's words, we shall see that such an explanation is far
from his idea. His words only relate to the superstition which made
the people attribute to some women the prophetic character. Even the
example chosen by Tacitus serves to show the truth and justness of
this observation. "Velleda," he says, "was regarded as a goddess." In
another part of his works, Tacitus explains his idea by telling us, of
this same Velleda, "that this girl of the nation of Bructeres enjoyed
great power, owing to an ancient custom among the Germans, which made
them look upon many women as prophetesses, and, in fine, with the
progress of superstition, as real divinities." "Ea virgo nationis
Bructeræ late imperitabat, vetere apud Germanos more quo plerasque
fœminarum fatidicas et augescente superstitione arbitrantur deas."
(_Hist. 4._) The text which I have just quoted proves to demonstration
that Tacitus speaks of superstition and not of family regulations,
very different things; as it might easily happen that some women were
regarded as divinities, while the rest of their sex only occupied a
place in society inferior to that which belonged to them. At Athens,
great importance was given to the priestesses of Ceres; at Rome to the
Vestals, the Pythonesses; and the history of the Sibyls shows that it
was not peculiar to the Germans to attribute the prophetical character
to women. It is not for me now to explain the cause of these facts;
it is enough for my purpose to state them; perhaps, on this point,
physiology might throw light on the philosophy of history.
When Tacitus, in the same work, describes the severity of the manners
of the Germans with respect to marriage, it is easy to observe that
the order of superstition and the order of the family were among them
very different. We have no longer here any thing of the _sanctum et
providum_; we find only a jealous austerity in maintaining the line
of duty; and we see woman, instead of being regarded as a goddess,
given up to the vengeance of the husband, if she has been unfaithful.
This curious passage proves that the power of man over woman was not
much limited by the customs of the Germans. "Accisis crinibus," says
Tacitus, "nudatam coram propinquis expellit domo maritus, ac per omnem
vicum verbere agit." "After having cut off her hair, the husband drives
her from his house in presence of her relations, and beats her with
rods ignominiously through the village." Certainly this punishment
gives us an idea of the infamy which was attached to adultery among
the Germans; but it was little calculated to increase the respect
entertained for them publicly; this would have been greater had they
been stoned to death.
When we read in Tacitus the description of the social state of the
Germans, we must not forget that some traits of their manners are
purposely embellished by him, which is very natural for a writer of his
sentiments. We must not forget that Tacitus was indignant and afflicted
at the sight of the fearful corruption of manners at that time in Rome.
He paints, it is true, in glowing colours, the sanctity of marriage
among the Germans; but who does not see that, when doing so, he had
before his eyes matrons who, according to Seneca, reckoned their years
not by the succession of consuls, but by change of husbands, and women
without a shadow of modesty, given up to the greatest profligacy?
We can easily see to whom he alludes when he makes these severe
remarks: "Nemo enim illic vitia ridet, nec corrumpere et corrumpi
sæculum vocatur." "There vice is not laughed at, and corruption is
not called the fashion." A strong expression, which describes the
age, and explains to us the secret joy with which Tacitus cast in the
face of Rome, so refined and so corrupted, the pure image of German
manners. That which sharpened the raillery of Juvenal andenvenomed
his bitter satires, excited the indignation of Tacitus, and drew from
his grave philosophy these severe reprimands. Other information which
we possess shows us that the pictures of Tacitus are embellished, and
that the manners of this people were far from being as pure as he
wishes to persuade us. Perhaps they may have been strict with respect
to marriage; but it is certain that polygamy was not unknown among
them. Cæsar, an eye-witness, relates, that the German king Ariovistus
had two wives (_De Bello Gallico_, l. i.); and this was not a solitary
instance, for Tacitus himself tells us that a few of them had several
wives at once, not on account of sensuality, but for distinction.
"Exceptis admodum paucis, qui non libidine, sed ob nobilitatem,
pluribus nuptiis ambiuntur." This distinction, _non libidine sed ob
nobilitatem_, is amusing; but it is clear that the kings and nobles,
under one pretence or another, allowed themselves greater liberty than
the severe historian would have approved of.
Who can tell what was the state of morality among those forests? If we
may be allowed to conjecture by analogy, from the resemblance which
may naturally be supposed to exist among the different nations of
the North, what an idea might we conceive of it from certain customs
of the Britons, who, in bodies of ten or twelve, had their wives in
common; chiefly brothers with brothers, and fathers with sons; so
that they were compelled to distinguish the families conventionally,
by giving the children to him who had first married the woman! It is
from Cæsar, an eye-witness, that we also learn this: "Uxores habent
(Britanni) deni duodenique inter se communes, et maxime fratres cum
fratribus et parentes cum liberis; sed si qui sunt ex his nati, eorum
habentur liberi a quibus primum virgines quæque ductæ sunt." (_De Bello
Gallico_, l. v.)
However this may have been, it is at least certain that the principle
of monogamy was not so much respected among the Germans as people
have been willing to suppose; an exception was made in favour of the
nobles, that is, of the powerful; and that was enough to deprive the
principle of all its force, and to prepare its ruin. In such a matter,
to establish an exception to the law in favour of the powerful, is
almost to abrogate it. It may be said, I admit, that the powerful
will never want means of violating it; but it is one thing for the
powerful to violate the law, and another for the law itself to retire
before them, leaving the way open: in the first case, the employment
of force does not destroy the law--the very shock which breaks it,
makes its existence felt, and visibly shows the wrong and injustice;
in the second case, the law prostitutes itself, if I may so speak; the
passions have no need of force to open for themselves a passage, the
law itself opens the door for them. From that time it remains degraded
and disgraced; its own baseness has undermined the moral principle
on which it was founded; and, owing to its own fault, it becomes
itself the subject of animadversion to those who are still compelled
to observe it. Thus the right of polygamy, once recognised among the
Germans in favour of the great, must, with time, have become general
among the other classes of the people; and it is very probable that
this was the case when the conquest of more productive countries, the
enjoyment of more genial climates, and some improvement in their social
condition furnished them more abundantly with the means of gratifying
their inclinations. An evil so great could only be withstood by the
inflexible severity of the Catholic Church. Nobles and kings still had
a strong inclination towards the privileges which we have seen their
predecessors enjoying before they embraced the Christian religion.
Thence it came that, in the first centuries after the irruption of
the barbarians, the Church had so much trouble in restraining their
violent inclinations. Would not those who have endeavored to find among
the Germans so large a portion of the constitutive elements of modern
civilization have shown more wisdom, if they had recognised, in the
manners which we have been examining, one of the causes which made the
struggles between the secular princes and the Church so frequent?
I do not see why we should seek in the forests of the barbarians for
the origin of one of the finest attributes of our civilization, or why
we should give to those nations virtues of which they showed so little
evidence when they invaded the countries of the south.
Without monuments, without history--almost without any index as to
their social condition--it is difficult, not to say impossible, to
know any thing certain with respect to their manners; but I ask, what
must have been their morality, in the midst of such ignorance, such
superstition, and such barbarism?
The little that we know about these nations has been necessarily taken
from the Roman historians; and unfortunately this is not one of the
purest sources. It almost always happens that observers, especially
when they are conquerors, only give some slight notions with regard
to the political state of a people, and are almost silent as to their
social and domestic condition. In order to form an idea of this part of
the condition of a nation, it is necessary to mingle with them, and be
intimate with them; now this is generally prevented by their different
states of civilization, especially when the observers and the observed
are exasperated against each other by long years of war and slaughter.
Add to this, that, in such cases, the attention is particularly
attracted by what favors or opposes the designs of the conquerors,
who for the most part attach no great importance to moral subjects;
this will show us how it is that nations who are observed in this way
are only superficially known, and why such statements with respect to
religion and manners are unworthy of much confidence.
The reader will judge whether these reflections are out of place in
estimating the value of what the Romans have told us about the state
of the barbarians. It is enough to fix our eyes on the scenes of blood
and horror prevailing for centuries, which show us, on the one hand,
the ambition of Rome, which, not content with the empire of the then
known world, wished to extend its power over the most distant forests
of the North; and, on the other, the indomitable spirit of barbarian
independence, breaking in pieces the chains which were attempted
to be imposed upon them, and destroying, by their bold incursions,
the ramparts which the skill of the Roman generals labored to raise
against them. See, then, what we ought to think of barbarian society,
as described by Roman historians. What shall we think, if we consult
the few traits which the barbarians themselves have left us, of
their manners and maxims with respect to their social condition? It
is always risking much to seek in barbarism for the origin of one
of the most beautiful results of civilization, and to attribute to
vague and superstitious feelings what, during centuries, forms the
normal state of the most advanced nations. If these noble sentiments,
which are represented to us as emanating from the barbarians, really
existed among them, how did they avoid perishing in the midst of their
migrations and revolutions? How did they alone remain, when every thing
relating to the social condition of the barbarians disappeared?
These sentiments would not have been preserved in a stationary state,
but we should have seen them stripped of their superstition and
grossness, purified, ennobled, and made reasonable, just, salutary,
chivalrous, and worthy of civilized nations. Such assertions have,
from the first sight, the character of bold paradoxes. Certainly, when
we have to explain great phenomena in the social order, it is rather
more philosophical to seek for their origin in ideas which for a long
time have exercised a powerful influence on society, in manners and
institutions emanating from them, in laws, in fine, which have been
recognised and respected for many centuries as established by Divine
power.
Why, then, attempt to explain the respect in which women are held in
Europe, by the superstitious veneration which barbarous nations offered
in their forests to Velleda, Aurinia, and Gauna? Reason and good sense
tell us that the real origin of this wonderful phenomenon is not to
be found there, and that we must seek elsewhere for the causes which
have contributed to produce it. History reveals to us these causes,
and renders them palpable to us, by showing us facts which leave no
doubt as to the source whence this powerful and salutary influence
emanated. Before Christianity, woman, oppressed by the tyranny of man,
was scarcely raised above the rank of slavery; her weakness condemned
her to be the victim of the strong. The Christian religion, by its
doctrines of fraternity in Jesus Christ, and equality before God,
destroys the evil in its root, by teaching man that woman ought not
to be his slave, but his companion. From that moment the amelioration
of woman's lot was felt wherever Christianity was spread; and woman,
as far as the degradation of ancient manners allowed, began to gather
the fruit of a doctrine which was to make a complete change in her
condition, by giving her a new existence. This is one of the principal
causes of the amelioration of woman's lot: a sensible, palpable cause,
which is easily shown without making any gratuitous supposition, a
cause which is not founded on conjecture, but which appears evident on
the first glance at the most notorious facts of history.
Moreover, Catholicity, by the severity of its morality, by the lofty
protection which it affords to the delicate feeling of modesty,
corrected and purified manners; thus it very much elevated woman, whose
dignity is incompatible with corruption and licentiousness. In fine,
Catholicity itself, or the Catholic Church, (and observe, I do not say
Christianity,) by its firmness in establishing and preserving monogamy
and the indissolubility of the marriage tie, restrained the caprices
of man, and made him concentrate his affections on one wife, who could
not be divorced. Thus woman passed from a state of slavery to that of
the companion of man. The instrument of pleasure was changed into the
mother of a family, respected by her children and servants. Thus was
created in the family identity of interests; thus was guarantied the
education of children, which produced the close intimacy which among
us unites husband and wife, parents and children. The atrocious right
of life and death was destroyed; the father had not even the right
to inflict punishments too severe; and all this admirable system was
strengthened by ties strong but mild, was based on the principles
of sound morality, sustained by prevailing manners, guarantied and
protected by the laws, fortified by reciprocal interests, sanctioned by
time, and endeared by love. This is the truly satisfactory explanation
of the enigma; this is the origin of the honor and dignity of woman
in Europe; thence we have derived the organization of the family,--an
inestimable benefit which Europeans possess without appreciating it,
without being sufficiently acquainted with it, and watching over its
preservation as they ought.
In treating of this important matter, I have purposely distinguished
between Christianity and Catholicity, in order to avoid a confusion in
words, which would have entailed a confusion in things. In reality,
the true, the only Christianity is Catholicity; but, unfortunately,
we cannot now employ these words indiscriminately, not only on
account of Protestantism, but also on account of the monstrous
philosophico-Christian nomenclature which ranks Christianity among
philosophical sects, as if it were nothing more than a system imagined
by man. As the principle of charity plays a great part wherever the
religion of Jesus Christ is found, and as this principle is evident
even to the eyes of the incredulous, philosophers who have wished
to persevere in their incredulity without incurring the scandalous
epithet of disciples of Voltaire, have adopted the words fraternity
and humanity, to make them the theme of their instructions; they have
consented to give to Christianity the chief glory of originating
its sublime ideas and generous sentiments: thus they appear not to
contradict the history of the past as the philosophy of the age gone by
in its madness did; but they pretend to accommodate all to the present
time, and prepare the way for a greater and happier future. For these
philosophers Christianity is not a divine religion; by no means. With
them it is an idea, fortunate, magnificent, and fruitful in grand
results, but purely human; it is the result of long and painful human
labors. Polytheism, Judaism, the philosophy of the East, of Egypt,
of Greece, were all preparatory to that great work. Jesus Christ,
according to them, only moulded into form an idea which was in embryo
in the bosom of humanity. He fixed and developed it, and, by reducing
it to practice, made the human race to take a step of great importance
in the path of progress into which it has entered. But, He is always,
in the eyes of these philosophers, nothing more than a philosopher
of Judea, as Socrates was of Greece, and Seneca of Rome. Still we
should rejoice that they grant to Him this human existence, and do not
transform Him into a mythological being, by considering the Gospel
narrative as a mere allegory.
Thus, at the present time, it is of the first importance to distinguish
between Christianity and Catholicity, whenever we have to bring
to light and present to the gratitude of mankind the unspeakable
benefits for which they are indebted to the Christian religion. It is
necessary to show that what has regenerated the world was not an idea
thrown at hazard among all those who have struggled for preference
and pre-eminence; but that it was a collection of truths sent from
Heaven, transmitted to the human race by a God made Man, by means of
a society formed and authorized by Himself, in order to perpetuate to
the end of time the work which His word had established, which His
miracles had sanctioned, and which He had sealed with His blood. It is
consequently necessary to exhibit this society, that is, the Catholic
Church, realizing in her laws and institutions the inspirations and
instructions of her Divine Master, and accomplishing the lofty mission
of leading men towards eternal happiness, while ameliorating their
condition here below, and consoling them in this land of misfortune. In
this way we form a correct idea of Christianity, if we may so speak,
or rather we show it as it really is, not as men vainly represent it.
And observe, that we ought never to fear for the truth, when the facts
of history are fully and searchingly examined. If in the vast field
into which our investigations lead us, we sometimes find ourselves in
obscurity, walking for a long time in dark vaults which the rays of
the sun do not visit, and where the soil under our feet threatens to
swallow us up, let us fear nothing, let us advance with courage and
confidence; amid the darkest windings we shall discover at a distance
the light that shines upon the end of our journey; we shall see truth
seated on the threshold, placidly smiling at our terrors and anxieties.
To philosophers, as well as to Protestants, we would say, if
Christianity were not realized in a visible society, always in contact
with man, and provided with the authority necessary for teaching and
guiding him, it would be only a theory, like all others that have
been and still are seen on the earth; consequently it would be either
altogether sterile, or at least unable to produce any of those great
works which endure unimpaired for ages. Now one of these is undoubtedly
Christian marriage, and the family organization which has been its
immediate consequence. It would have been vain to advance notions
favorable to the dignity of woman and tending to improve her lot, if
the sanctity of marriage had not been guarantied by a power generally
acknowledged and revered. That power is continually struggling against
the passions which labor to overcome it; what would have happened if
they had had to contend with no other obstacle than a philosophic
theory, or a religious idea without reality in society, and without
power to obtain submission and obedience?
We have, then, no need of recurring to that extravagant philosophy
which seeks for light in the midst of darkness, and which, on seeing
order arise out of chaos, has conceived the singular notion of
affirming that it was produced by it. If we find in the doctrines, in
the laws of the Catholic Church the origin of the sanctity of marriage
and the dignity of woman, why should we seek for it in the manners of
brutal barbarians, who had no veil for modesty and the privacy of the
nuptial couch? Let us hear Cæsar speaking of the Germans: "Nulla est
occultatio, quod et promiscui in fluminibus perluuntur, et pellibus aut
rhenorum tegumentis utuntur, magna corporis parte nuda." (_De Bello
Gall._, l. vi.)
I have been obliged to oppose authority to authority; I was under the
necessity of destroying the fantastical systems into which men have
been seduced by an over love of subtilty, by the mania of finding
extraordinary causes for phenomena, the origin of which may easily
be discovered when we have recourse, in good faith and sincerity, to
the concurring instructions of philosophy and history. It was highly
necessary, in order to clear up one of the most delicate questions in
the history of the human race, and to find the source of one of the
most fruitful elements of European civilization. My task was nothing
less than to explain the organization of families, that is, to fix one
of the poles on which the axis of society turns.
Let Protestantism boast of having introduced divorce, of having
deprived marriage of the beautiful and sublime character of a
sacrament, of having withdrawn from the care and protection of the
Church the most important act of human life; let it rejoice in having
destroyed the sacred asylums of virgins consecrated to God; let it
declaim against the most angelic and heroic virtue; let us, after
having defended the doctrine and conduct of the Catholic Church at
the tribunal of philosophy and history, conclude by appealing to
the judgment, not indeed of high philosophy, but of good sense and
feeling.[18]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
OF THE PUBLIC CONSCIENCE IN GENERAL.
When enumerating, in the twentieth chapter, the characteristics
which mark European civilization, I pointed out, as one of them, "an
admirable public conscience, rich in sublime maxims of morality, in
rules of justice and equity, in sentiments of honor and dignity, a
conscience which survives the shipwreck of private morality, and does
not allow the open corruption to go so far as it did in ancient times."
We must now explain more at length in what this public conscience
consists, what is its origin, what are its results, showing at the
same time what share Catholicity and Protestantism have had in its
formation. This delicate and important question is, I will venture to
say, untouched; at least I do not know that it has yet been attempted.
Men constantly speak of the excellence of Christian morality, and on
this point all the sects, all the schools of Europe are agreed; but
they do not pay sufficient attention to the way in which that morality
has become predominant, by first destroying Pagan corruption, then by
maintaining itself for centuries in spite of the ravages of infidelity,
so as to form an admirable public conscience; a benefit which we now
enjoy without appreciating it as we ought, and without even thinking
of it. In order fully to comprehend this matter, it is above all
necessary to form a clear idea of what is meant by conscience.
Conscience in the general, or rather ideological sense of the word,
means the knowledge which each man has of his own acts. Thus we say
that the soul is conscious of its thoughts, of the acts of its will,
and of its sensations; so that the word conscience, taken in this
sense, expresses a perception of what we do and feel. Applied to the
moral order, this word signifies the judgment which we ourselves form
of our actions as good or evil. Thus, when we are about to perform an
action, conscience points it out to us as good or bad, and consequently
lawful or unlawful; and it thus directs our conduct. The action being
performed, it tells us whether we have done well or ill, it excuses
or condemns us, it rewards us with peace of mind, or punishes us with
remorse.
This explanation being given, we shall easily understand what is
meant by public conscience; it is nothing but the judgment formed of
their actions by the generality of men. It results from this that,
like private conscience, the public conscience may be right or wrong,
strict or relaxed; and that there must be differences on this point
among societies of men, the same as there are among individuals; that
is to say, that, as in the same society we find men whose consciences
are more or less right or wrong, more or less strict or relaxed, we
must also find societies superior to others in the justice of the
judgment which they form on actions, and in the delicacy of their moral
appreciation.
If we observe closely, we shall see that individual conscience is the
result of widely different causes. It is an error to suppose that
conscience resides solely in the intelligence; it is also rooted in the
heart. It is a judgment, it is true; but we judge of things in a very
different way according to the manner in which we feel them. Add to
this, that the feelings have an immense influence on moral ideas and
actions; the result is, that conscience is formed under the influence
of all the causes which forcibly act on our hearts. Communicate to two
children the same moral principles, by teaching them from the same book
and under the same master; but suppose that one in his own family sees
what he is taught constantly practised, while the other sees there
nothing but indifference to it; suppose, moreover, that these two
children grow up with the same moral and religious conviction, so that
as far as the intellect is concerned there is no difference between
them; nevertheless, do you believe that their judgment of the morality
of actions will be the same? By no means; and why? Because the one has
only convictions, while the other has also feelings. In the one, the
doctrine enlightens the mind; while, in the other, example engraves it
constantly on the heart. Thus what one regards with indifference, the
other looks upon with horror; what the one does with negligence, the
other performs with the greatest care; and the same subject that to one
is of slight interest, is to the other of the highest importance.
Public conscience, which, in fact, is the sum of private consciences,
is subject to the same influences as they are; so that mere instruction
is not enough for it, and it requires the concurrence of other
causes to act on the heart, as well as the mind. When we compare
Christian with pagan society, we instantly see that the former must be
infinitely superior to the latter on this point; not only on account
of the purity of its morality, and the strength of the principles and
motives sanctioning it, but also because it follows the wise course of
continually inculcating this morality, and impressing it strongly on
the mind by constant repetition. By this constant repetition of the
same truths, Christianity has done what other religions never could do;
none of them, indeed, have ever succeeded in organizing and putting
into practice so important a system. But I have said enough on this
point in the fourteenth chapter; it is useless to repeat it here; I
pass on to some observations on the public conscience in Europe.
It cannot be denied that, generally speaking, reason and justice
prevail in that public conscience. If you examine laws and actions,
you will not find those shocking acts of injustice or those revolting
immoralities which are to be met with among other nations. There
are certainly evils, and very grave ones, but they are at least
acknowledged, and called by their right names. We do not hear good
called evil, or evil good; that is to say, society, in certain things,
is like those persons of good principles and bad morals who are
the first to acknowledge that their conduct is blamable, and that
their words and deeds contradict each other. We often lament the
corruption of morals, the profligacy of our large towns; but what is
all the corruption and profligacy of modern society compared with
the debauchery of the ancients? It certainly cannot be denied that
there is a fearful extent of dissoluteness in some of the capitals of
Europe. The records of the police, as well as those of the benevolent
establishments where the fruits of crime are received, show shocking
demoralization. In the highest classes dreadful ravages are caused by
conjugal infidelity, and all sorts of dissipation and disorder; yet
these excesses are very far from reaching the extent which they did
among the best-governed nations of antiquity, the Greeks and Romans. So
that our society, which we so bitterly lament, would have appeared to
them a model of modesty and decorum. Need we call to mind the infamous
vices then so common and so public, and which have scarcely a name
among us now, whether it be because they are so rarely committed, or
because the fear of public conscience forces them to hide themselves
in the dark places, and, so to speak, in the bowels of the earth?
Need we recall to mind the infamies which stain the writings of the
ancients as often as they describe the manners of their times? Names
illustrious in science and in arms have passed down to posterity
with stains so black that we cannot consent to describe them. Now,
how corrupt must have been the state of the other classes, when such
degradation was attributed to men who, by their elevated positions or
other circumstances, were the lights of society!
You talk of the avarice which is so prevalent now-a-days; but look at
the usurers of antiquity who sucked the blood of the people everywhere;
read the satirical poets, and you will see what was the state of
manners on this point; consult, in fine, the annals of the Church, and
you will see what pains she took to diminish the effects of this vice;
read the history of ancient Rome, and you will find the _cursed thirst
for gold_, and lenders without mercy, who, after having impudently
robbed, carried in triumph the fruits of their rapine to live with
scandalous ostentation, and buy votes again to raise them to command.
No, in European civilization, among nations taught and elevated by
Christianity, such evils would not be long tolerated. If we suppose
administrative disorder, tyranny, and corruption of morals carried as
far as you please, still public opinion would raise its voice and frown
on the oppressors. Partial injustice may be committed, but rapine will
never be formed into a shameless system, or be regarded as the rule of
government. Rely upon it, the words _justice_, _morality_, _humanity_,
which constantly resound in our midst, are not vain words; this
language produces great results; it destroys immense evils. These ideas
impregnate the atmosphere we breathe; they frequently restrain the
arm of criminals, and resist with incredible force materialistic and
utilitarian doctrines; they continue to exert an incalculable influence
on society. We have among us a feeling of morality which mollifies and
governs all; which is so powerful that vice is compelled to assume the
appearance of virtue, and cover itself with many veils, in order to
escape becoming the subject of public execration.
Modern society, it would seem, ought to have inherited the corruption
of the old, since it was formed out of its ruins, at a time when its
morals were most dissolute. We must observe, that the irruption of the
barbarians, far from improving society, contributed, on the contrary,
to make it worse; and this, not only on account of the corruption
belonging to their fierce and brutal manners, but also on account of
the disorder introduced among the nations they invaded, by violating
laws, throwing their manners and customs into confusion, and destroying
all authority. Whence it follows, that the improvement of public
opinion among modern nations is a very singular fact; and that this
progress can only be attributed to the influence of the active and
energetic principle which has existed in the bosom of Europe for so
many centuries.
Let us observe the conduct of the Church on this point--it is perhaps
one of the most important facts in the history of the middle ages.
Imagine an age when corruption and injustice most unblushingly raised
their heads, and you will see that, however impure and disgusting
the fact may be, the law is always pure; that is to say, that reason
and justice always found some one to proclaim them, even when they
appeared to be listened to by nobody. The state of ignorance was the
darkest, licentious passions were uncontrolled; but the instructions
and admonitions of the Church were never wanting; it is thus that,
amidst the darkest night, the lighthouse shines from afar, to guide the
mariners in safety.
When in reading the history of the Church we see on all sides assembled
councils proclaiming the principles of the gospel morality, while
at every step we meet with the most scandalous proceedings; when we
constantly hear inculcated the laws which are so often trodden under
foot, it is natural to ask, of what use was all this, and of what
benefit were instructions thus unheeded? Let us not believe that these
proclamations were useless, nor lose courage if we have to wait long
for their fruits.
A principle which is proclaimed for a long time in society will in
the end acquire influence; if it is true, and consequently contains
an element of life, it will prevail in the end over all that opposes
it, and will rule over all around it. Allow, then, the truth to
speak--allow it to protest continually; this will prevent the
prescription of vice. Thus vice will preserve its proper name; and you
will prevent misguided men from deifying their passions, and placing
them on their altars after having adored them in their hearts. Be
confident that this protest will not be useless. Truth in the end will
be victorious and triumphant; for the protests of truth are the voice
of God condemning the usurpations of His creatures. This is what really
happened; Christian morality, first contending with the corrupt manners
of the empire, and afterwards with the brutality of the barbarians,
had for centuries rude shocks to sustain; but at last it triumphed
over all, and succeeded in governing legislation and public morals.
We do not mean to say that it succeeded in raising law and morals
to the degree of perfection which the purity of the gospel morality
required, but at least it did away the most shocking injustice; it
banished the most savage customs; it restrained the license of the most
shameless manners; it everywhere gave vice its proper name; it painted
it in its real colors, and prevented its being deified as impudently
as it was among the ancients. In modern times, it has had to contend
against the school which proclaims that private interest is the only
principle of morals; it has not been able, it is true, to prevent this
fatal doctrine from causing great evils, but at least it has sensibly
diminished them. Unhappy for the world will be the day when men shall
say without disguise, "_My own advantage is my virtue_; _my honor is
what is useful to myself_; _all is good or evil, according as it is
pleasing or displeasing to me_." Unhappy for the world will be the day
when such language will no longer be repudiated by public conscience.
The opportunity now presenting itself, and wishing to explain so
important a matter as fully as possible, I will make some observations
on an opinion of Montesquieu respecting the censors of Greece and Rome.
This digression will not be foreign to the purpose.
CHAPTER XXIX.
OF THE PRINCIPLE OF PUBLIC CONSCIENCE ACCORDING TO
MONTESQUIEU--HONOR--VIRTUE.
Montesquieu has said that republics are preserved by virtue, and
monarchies by honor. He observes, moreover, that honor renders the
censors, who were required among the ancients, unnecessary among us.
True it is, that in modern times there are no censors charged with
watching over the public morals; but the cause of this is not as stated
by this famous publicist. Among Christian nations, the ministers of
religion are the natural censors of public morals. The plenitude of
this office belongs to the Church, with this difference, that the
censorial power of the ancients was purely civil, while that of the
Church is a religious power, which has its origin and sanction in
divine authority. The religion of Greece and Rome neither did, nor
could, exercise this censorial power over morals. To be convinced of
this, it is enough to read the passage from St. Augustine, quoted
in the fourteenth chapter--a passage so interesting on this matter,
that I will venture to ask the reader to peruse it again. This is the
reason why we find among the Greeks and Romans censors who are not seen
among Christian nations. These censors were an addition to the Pagan
religion, the impotence of which they clearly showed--a religion which
was mistress of society, and yet could not fulfil one of the first
duties of all religions--that of watching over the public morals. What
I assert is so perfectly true, that in proportion as the influence of
religion and the ascendency of its ministers have been lowered among
modern nations, the ancient censors have reappeared in some sort in the
institution of police. When moral means are wanting, it is necessary to
have recourse to physical ones; violence is substituted for persuasion,
and instead of a zealous and charitable missionary, delinquents fall
into the hands of the ministers of public justice.
Much has been already written of the system of Montesquieu, with
respect to the principles on which the different forms of government
are based; but perhaps sufficient attention has not been paid to
the phenomenon which has served to mislead him. As this question is
intimately connected with the point which I have just touched upon, in
relation to the existence of the censorial authority, I shall explain
myself at some length. In the time of Montesquieu, the Christian
religion was not so fully understood as it now is with respect to its
social importance; and although on this point the author of the _Esprit
des Lois_ has done homage to her, it is well to remember what were his
antichristian prejudices during his youth, and also that this work is
still far from rendering to the true religion what is due to her. The
ideas of an irreligious philosophy which, some years later, misled so
many fine intellects, had begun at that time to gain the ascendant,
and Montesquieu had not sufficient strength of mind to make a decided
opposition to the prejudices which threatened universal dominion. To
this cause we must add another, which, although distinct from the last,
yet had the same origin, viz. a prejudice in favor of all that was old,
and a blind admiration for every thing Roman or Grecian. It seemed to
the philosophers of that time, that social and political perfection
had reached their greatest height among the ancients, that there was
nothing to be added to or taken from it, and that even in religion the
fables and festivals of antiquity were a thousand times preferable to
the faith and worship of the Christian religion. In the eyes of the
new philosophers, the heaven of the Apocalypse could not sustain a
comparison with that of the Elysian fields; the majesty of Jehovah was
inferior to that of Jupiter; all the loftiest Christian institutions
were a legacy of ignorance and fanaticism; the most holy and beneficent
institutions were the work of tortuous and interested views--the
vehicle and expression of sordid interests; public authority was
only an atrocious tyranny; and the only noble, just, and salutary
institutions were those of Paganism. There every thing was wise, and
evinced profound designs highly advantageous to society; the ancients
alone had enjoyed social advantages, and had succeeded in organizing
public authority, with guarantees for the liberty of citizens. Modern
nations should bitterly lament not being able to mingle in the
agitation of the forum, being deprived of such orators as Demosthenes
and Cicero,--having no Olympic games, or contests of athletæ; in fine,
they must always regret a religion which, although full of illusion
and falsehood, gave to all nature a dramatic interest, gave life to
fountains, rivers, cascades, and seas, peopled the fields, the meadows,
and the woods with beautiful nymphs, gave to man gods as the companions
of his hearth, and above all, knew how to render life pleasant and
charming, by giving full scope to all the passions, and deifying them
under the most enchanting forms.
How, in the midst of such prejudices, was it possible to discover the
truth in modern institutions? Every thing was in the most deplorable
state of confusion; all that was established was condemned without
appeal, and every one who attempted to defend it was considered a fool
or a knave. Religion and political constitutions, which seemed destined
soon to disappear, could reckon on no other support than the prejudices
or the interests of governments. Lamentable aberration of the human
mind! What would these writers now say if they could arise from their
tombs? And yet a century has not yet elapsed since the epoch when their
school began to acquire its influence. They have, for a long time,
ruled the world at their pleasure; and they have only shed torrents of
blood, heaping lesson upon lesson, and deception upon deception, in the
history of humanity.
But let us return to Montesquieu. This publicist, who was so much
affected by the atmosphere in which he lived, and who had no small
share in perverting the age, saw the facts which are here so apparent;
he recognised the results of that public opinion which has been
created among European nations by the influence of Christianity. But
while observing the effects, he did not ascertain the real causes,
and labored in every way to accommodate them to his own system. In
comparing ancient with modern society, he discovered between them a
remarkable difference in the conduct of men; he observed that we see
accomplished among us the noblest and most heroic actions, while we
avoid a great part of the vices which defile the ancients; but, on the
other hand, Montesquieu, like others, could not help seeing that men
among us have not always that high moral aim which ought to be the
motive of their laudable conduct. Avarice, ambition, love of pleasure,
and other passions, still reign in the world, and are easily discovered
everywhere. Still these passions do not reach the excess they did among
the ancients; there is a mysterious power which restrains them; before
giving way to their impulses, they throw a cautious glance around
them, and do not indulge in certain excesses unless they are sure of
being able to do so in secret. They have great dread of being seen by
man; they can only live in solitude and darkness. The author of the
_Esprit des Lois_ asked himself what is the cause of this phenomenon.
Men, he said to himself, often act, not from moral virtue, but from
respect for the judgment which other men will pass upon their actions;
this is to act from honor. Now, this is the case in France and in the
other monarchies of Europe; it must be, therefore, the distinctive
characteristic of monarchical governments; it must be the base of that
form of government, the distinction between a republic and despotism.
Let us hear the author himself: "Dans quel governement," says he,
"faut il des censeurs? Il en faut dans une république, où le principe
du governement est la vertu. Ce ne sont pas seulement les crimes qui
detruisent la vertu, mais encore les negligences, les fautes, une
certaine tiédeur dans l'amour de la patrie, des exemples dangereux,
des semences de corruption; ce qui ne choque point les lois, mais les
élude; ce qui ne les détruit pas, mais les affaiblit. Tout cela doit
être corrigé par les censeurs. * * * Dans les monarchies il ne faut
point de censeurs, elles sont fondées sur l'honneur; et la nature de
l'honneur est d'avoir pour censeur tout l'univers. Tout homme qui y
manque est soumis aux reproches de ceux mêmes qui n'en ont point."
(_De l'Esprit des Lois_, liv. v. chap. 19.) Such is the opinion of
this publicist. But if we reflect on the matter, we shall see that
he was wrong in transferring to politics, and explaining by simply
political causes, a fact purely social. Montesquieu points out, as
the distinguishing characteristic of monarchies, what is the general
characteristic of all modern European society; he seems not to have
understood why the institution of censors was not necessary in Europe,
any more than he did the real reason why they were required among the
ancients. Monarchical forms have not exclusively prevailed in Europe.
Powerful republics have existed there; and there are still some not to
be despised. Monarchy itself has undergone numerous modifications; it
has been allied sometimes with democracy, sometimes with aristocracy;
sometimes its power has been very limited, and sometimes it has been
unbounded; and yet we always find this restraint which Montesquieu
speaks of, and which he calls honor; that is, a powerful influence
stimulating to good deeds and deterring from bad, and all this from
respect for the judgments which other men will pass.
"Dans les monarchies," says Montesquieu, "il ne faut point de censeurs,
elles sont fondées sur l'honneur; et la nature de l'honneur est d'avoir
pour censeur tout l'univers;" remarkable words, which reveal to us the
ideas of the writer, and at the same time show us the origin of his
mistake. They will assist us in solving the enigma. In order to explain
this point as fully as the importance of the subject requires, and
with as much clearness as the multitude and intricacy of its relations
demand, I shall endeavour to convey my ideas with as much precision as
possible.
Respect for the judgment of others is a feeling innate in man;
consequently it is in his nature to do or avoid many things on account
of this judgment. All this is founded on the simple fact of self-love:
this is nothing but love of our own good fame, the desire of appearing
to advantage, and the fear of appearing to disadvantage, in the eyes
of our fellows. These things are so simple and clear, that they do
not require or even admit of proofs or comments. Honor is a stimulant
more or less active, or a restraint more or less powerful, according
to the degree of severity which we expect in the judgments of others.
Thus it is that the miser, when among the generous, makes an effort to
appear liberal; the prodigal restrains himself in the presence of the
lovers of strict economy; in meetings where decorum generally reigns we
see that even libertines control themselves, while men whose manners
are usually correct allow themselves certain freedoms in licentious
societies. Now the society in which we live is, as it were, one vast
company. If we know that strict principles prevail there, if we hear
everywhere proclaimed the rules of sound morality, if we think that the
generality of the men with whom we live give the right name to every
action, without allowing the irregularity of their conduct to falsify
their judgment, we see ourselves surrounded on all sides by witnesses
and judges who cannot be corrupted; and this checks us at every step
when we wish to do evil, and urges us on when we wish to do good. It
will be far otherwise if we have reason to expect indulgence from
the society in which we move. In this case, and supposing us all to
entertain the same convictions, vice will not appear to us so horrible,
crime so detestable, or corruption so disgusting; our ideas with regard
to the morality of our conduct will be very different, and in the end
our actions will show the fatal influence of the atmosphere in which we
live. It follows from this, that, in order to infuse into our hearts a
feeling of honor strong enough to produce good, it is necessary that
principles of sound morality should regulate society, and that they
should be generally and fully believed. This being granted, social
habits will be formed, which will regulate manners; and even if these
habits do not succeed in hindering the corruption of a great number of
individuals, they will, nevertheless, be sufficient to compel vice to
adopt certain disguises, which, although hypocritical, will not fail
to add to the decorum of manners. The salutary effects of these habits
will still continue after the faith on which their moral principles are
based has been considerably weakened, and society will still gather in
abundance the beneficent fruits of the despised or forgotten tree. This
is the history of the morality of modern nations: although lamentably
corrupt, they are still not so bad as the ancients. They preserve in
their legislation, and in their morals, a fund of morality and dignity
which the ravages of irreligion have not been able to destroy. Public
opinion never dies; every day it censures vice, and extols the beauty
and advantages of virtue; it reigns over governments and nations,
and exercises the powerful ascendency of an element which is found
universally diffused.
"Outre l'Aréopage," says Montesquieu, "il y avait à Athènes des
gardiens des mœurs et des gardiens des lois. A Lacédémone, tous les
vieillards étaient censeurs. A Rome, deux magistrats particuliers
avaient la censure. Comme le Senat veille sur le peuple, il faut que
des censeurs aient les yeux sur le peuple et sur le Senat. Il faut
qu'ils rétablissent dans la république tout ce qui a été corrompu,
qu'ils notent la tiédeur, jugent les négligences, et corrigent les
fautes, comme les lois punissent les crimes." (_De l'Esprit des Lois_,
liv. v. chap. 7.) In describing the duties of the censors of antiquity,
the author seems to state the functions of religious authority. To
penetrate where the civil laws do not extend; to correct, and in some
measure to chastise, what they leave unpunished; to exercise over
society an influence more delicate and minute than that which belongs
to legislation,--such are the objects of the censorial power; and who
does not see that that power has been replaced by religious authority?
and that if the former has been unnecessary among modern nations, it is
owing to the existence of the latter, or to the influence which it has
exercised for many centuries?
It cannot be denied that religious authority has for a long time
gained a decided ascendency over men's minds and hearts; this fact is
written in every page of the history of Europe. As to the results of
that influence, so calumniated and ill understood, we meet with them
every day,--we who see the principles of justice and sound morality
still reigning over public conscience, in spite of the ravages which
irreligion and immorality have committed among individuals.
The powerful influence of public conscience will be best explained
by some examples. Let us suppose that the richest of nobles, or the
most powerful of monarchs, indulged in the abominable excesses of a
Tiberius, a Nero, or the other monsters who disgraced the imperial
throne, what would happen? We will not predict; but we are confident
that the universal shout of indignation and horror would be so
loud, and the monster would be so crushed under the load of public
execration, that it appears to us impossible for him to exist. It seems
to us an anachronism, an impossibility at this time. Even if we admit
that there might be men immoral enough to commit such enormities,
sufficiently perverted in mind and heart to exhibit such depravity,
we see that it would be an outrage against universal morals, and that
such a spectacle could not stand for a moment in presence of public
opinion. I could draw numberless contrasts, but I shall content myself
with one, which, while it reminds us of a fine trait in ancient
history, exhibits, with the virtue of a hero, the manners of the
time and the melancholy condition of the public conscience. Let us
suppose that a general of modern Europe captures by assault a town in
which a distinguished lady, the wife of one of the principal leaders
of the enemy, falls into the hands of the soldiers. The beautiful
prisoner is brought to the general; what should be his conduct? Every
one will immediately say, that she ought to be treated with the most
delicate attention, that she ought to be immediately set at liberty
and allowed to rejoin her husband. Such conduct appears to us so
strictly obligatory, so much according to the order of things, and so
conformable to our ideas and sentiments, that there certainly does
not appear to us to be any peculiar merit in adopting it. We should
say that the general had performed a strict and sacred duty, which he
could not evade without covering himself with shame and ignominy. We
certainly should not immortalize such an action in history; we should
allow it to pass unnoticed in the ordinary course of events. Now,
this is what Scipio did with respect to the wife of Mardonius at the
taking of Carthagena; and ancient history records this generosity as
an eternal monument of his virtues. This parallel explains better than
any commentary the immense progress of morality and public conscience
under the influence of Christianity. Now, such conduct, which among
us is considered as simple, natural, and strictly obligatory, does
not flow from the honor belonging to monarchies, as Montesquieu
asserts, but from more lofty notions of human dignity, from a clearer
knowledge of the true state of society, from a morality the purer
and more powerful because it is established on eternal foundations.
This, indeed, is found and felt everywhere, it governs the good and
is respected even by the bad; this is what would stop the licentious
man, who, in a case of this sort, would be inclined to indulge his
cruelty or his other passions. The author of the _Esprit des Lois_
would doubtless have perceived these truths if he had not been
prejudiced by the favorite distinction established at the beginning of
his work, and which throughout bound him to an inflexible system. We
know what a preconceived system is--one that serves as the mould for
a work. Like the bed of Procrustus, ideas and facts, right or wrong,
are accommodated to the system; what is too much is taken away, and
what is wanting is added. Thus Montesquieu finds in political motives,
founded on the republican form of government, the reason for the power
exercised over Roman women by their husbands. The cruel rights given to
fathers over their children, the unlimited paternal power established
by the Roman laws, also appeared to him to flow from political causes,
as if it were not evident that these two regulations of the ancient
Roman law were owing to causes purely domestic and social, altogether
independent of the form of government.[19]
CHAPTER XXX.
ON THE DIFFERENT INFLUENCE OF PROTESTANTISM AND CATHOLICITY ON THE
PUBLIC CONSCIENCE.
We have defined the nature of public conscience; we have pointed out
its origin and effects. It now remains to examine whether Protestantism
has had any share in forming it, and whether it is fairly entitled
to the glory of having been of any service to European civilization
on this point. We have already shown that the origin of this public
conscience is to be found in Christianity. Now Christianity may be
considered under two aspects--as a doctrine, and as an institution
intended to realize that doctrine; that is to say, Christian morality
may be considered in itself, or as taught and inculcated by the Church.
To form the public conscience, and make Christian morality regulate
it, it was not enough to announce this doctrine; there was still
required a society, not only to preserve it in all its purity, that it
might be transmitted from generation to generation, but to preach it
incessantly to man, and apply it continually to all the acts of life.
We must observe that ideas, however powerful they may be, have only
a precarious existence until they are realized, and become embodied,
as it were, in an institution which, while it is animated, moved, and
guided by them, serves them as a rampart against the attacks of other
ideas and other interests. Man is formed of body and soul; the whole
world is a collection of spiritual and corporeal beings--a system of
moral and physical relations; thus it is that all ideas, even the
greatest and the loftiest, begin to fall into oblivion when they have
no outward expression--no organ by which they make themselves heard and
respected. They are then confounded and overwhelmed amid the confusion
of the world, and in the end disappear altogether. Therefore, all
ideas that are to have a lasting influence on society, necessarily
tend to create an institution to represent them, in which they may be
personified; not satisfied with addressing themselves to the mind,
and with descending to practice by indirect means, they seek to give
form to matter, they present themselves to the eyes of humanity in a
palpable manner. These observations, which I submit with confidence to
the judgment of sensible men, contain a condemnation of the Protestant
system. So far from the pretended Reformation being able to claim
any part in the salutary events which we are explaining, we should
rather say that, by its principles and conduct, it would have been an
obstacle in their way, if, as was happily the case, Europe had not
been of adult age in the sixteenth century, and consequently almost
incapable of losing the doctrines, feelings, habits, and tendencies
which the Catholic Church had communicated to it during an education
of so many centuries. Indeed, the first thing that Protestantism did
was to attack authority, not by a mere act of resistance, but by
proclaiming resistance to be a real right, by establishing private
judgment as a dogma. From that moment Christian morality remained
without support, for there was no longer a society which could claim
the right of explaining and teaching it; that is to say, it was reduced
to the level of those ideas which, not being represented or supported
by an institution, and not having any authorized organ to explain them,
possessed no direct means of acting on society, and had no means of
protection when attacked.
But I shall be told that Protestantism _has_ preserved the institution
which realizes this idea; for it has preserved its ministers, worship,
and preaching--in a word, all that truth requires in dealing with man.
I will not deny that there is some truth in this, and I will repeat
what I have not hesitated to affirm in the fourteenth chapter of this
work, "That we ought to regard it as a great good, that the first
Protestants, in spite of their desire to upset all the practices of
the Church, have yet preserved that of preaching." I added in the
same place: "It is not necessary to deny on this account the evils
produced at certain times by the declamation of some ministers, either
furious or fanatical; but as unity was broken, and as the people had
been hurried into the perilous path of schism, we say that it must
have been very conducive to the preservation of the most important
ideas concerning God and man, and the fundamental maxims of morality,
for such truths to be frequently explained to the people by men who
had long studied them in the Holy Scriptures." I repeat here what I
there said: preaching practised among Protestants must have had very
good effects; but this only amounts to saying, that it did not do so
much mischief as was to be feared from its own principles. On this
point, they were like men of immoral opinions, who are not so bad as
they would be, were their hearts in accordance with their minds: they
had the good fortune to be inconsistent. Protestantism had proclaimed
the abolition of authority, and the right of private judgment without
limit; but in practice it did not quite act up to these doctrines.
Thus, it devoted itself with ardor to what it called gospel preaching,
and its ministers were called gospellers. So that, at the very time
when they just established the principle that every individual had the
free right of private judgment, and ought to be guided by reason or
private inspiration alone, without listening to any external authority,
Protestant ministers were seen spreading themselves everywhere, and
claiming to be the legitimate organs of the divine word.
The better to understand the strange nature of such a doctrine, we must
remember the maxims of Luther with respect to the priesthood. We know
that this heresiarch, embarrassed by the hierarchy which constitutes
the ministry of the Church, pretended to overturn it at one blow, by
maintaining that all Christians are priests, and that, to exercise the
sacred ministry, a simple appointment is necessary, which adds nothing
essential or characteristic to the quality of priests, which is the
universal patrimony of all Christians. It follows from this doctrine,
that the Protestant preacher wanting a mission is not distinguished
from other Christians by any characteristic; he cannot, consequently,
speak to them with any authority; he is not allowed, like Jesus Christ,
to speak _quasi potestatem habens_ (as having authority); he is nothing
more than an orator who addresses the people with no other right than
what he derives from his education, knowledge, or eloquence.
This preaching without authority, which, in reality and according to
the preacher's own principles, was only human, although it committed
the glaring inconsistency of pretending to be divine, may, no doubt,
have contributed something to the preservation of good moral principles
when they were already everywhere established; but it would certainly
have been unable to establish them in a society where they were
unknown, especially if it had had to struggle with other principles
directly opposed to it, and supported by ancient prejudices, by deeply
rooted passions, and by strong interests.
Yes, we repeat it, this preaching would have been unable to introduce
its principles into such a society; unable to preserve them in
safety amid the most alarming revolutions and the most unexampled
catastrophes; unable to impart them to barbarous nations, who, proud of
their triumph, listened to no other voice than that of their ferocious
instinct; unable to make the conquerors and the conquered bow before
these principles, to mould the most different nations into one people,
by stamping on their laws, institutions, and manners the same seal,
in order to form from them that admirable society, that assemblage of
nations, or rather that one great nation, which is called Europe. In
a word, Protestantism, from its very constitution, would have been
incapable of realizing what the Catholic Church has done.
Moreover, this attempted preaching preserved by Protestantism is, at
bottom, an effort to imitate the Church that it may not remain unarmed
in the presence of so redoubtable an adversary. It required a means of
influencing the people,--a channel open to communicate, at the will
of each usurper of religious authority, different interpretations of
the Bible; this is the reason why, in spite of violent declamation
against all that emanated from the chair of St. Peter, it preserved the
valuable practice of preaching.
But the best way to feel the inferiority of Protestantism in regard
to the knowledge and comprehension of the means proper to extend and
strengthen morality, and make it prevail in all the acts of life, is
to observe, that it has interrupted all communication between the
conscience of the faithful and the direction of the priest; it only
leaves to the latter a general direction, which, owing to its being
extended over all at the same time, is exerted with effect over none.
If we confine ourselves to the consideration of the abolition of the
sacrament of Penance among Protestants, we may rest assured that they
have thereby given up one of the most legitimate, powerful, and gentle
means of rendering human conduct conformable to the principles of sound
morality. Its action is legitimate; for nothing can be more legitimate
than direct and intimate communication between the conscience of
man who is to be judged by God, and the conscience of the man who
represents God on earth;--an action which is powerful, because this
intimate communication, established between man and man, between soul
and soul, identifies, as it were, the thoughts and affections; because,
in the presence of God alone, to the exclusion of every other witness,
admonitions have more force, precepts more authority, and advice more
unction and sweetness to penetrate into the inmost soul;--an action
full of gentleness, for it supposes the voluntary manifestation of the
conscience which seeks guidance--a manifestation which is commanded,
it is true, by authority, but which cannot be enforced by violence, as
God alone is the judge of its sincerity;--an action, I repeat, which
is gentle, for the minister is compelled to the strictest secrecy;
all imaginable precautions have been taken by the Church to prevent a
betrayal, and man may rest with tranquillity in the assurance that the
secrets of his conscience will never be revealed.
But you will ask me, do you believe all this is necessary to establish
and preserve a good state of morality? If morality is to be any thing
more than a mere worldly probity, which is exposed to destruction at
the first shock of interest, or easily seduced by the passions; if it
is to be a morality delicate, strict, and profound, extending over all
the acts of life, guiding and ruling the heart of man, and transforming
it into that _beau idéal_ which we admire in Catholics who are really
devoted to the observances and practices of their religion; if this is
the morality which you mean, it is necessary, undoubtedly, that, placed
under the inspection of religious authority, it should be directed and
guided by a minister of the sanctuary, by a faithful communication
of the secrets of our hearts and the numberless temptations which
continually assail our weak nature. This is the doctrine of the
Catholic Church; and I will add, that it is pointed out by experience
and taught by philosophy. I do not mean to say, that Catholics alone
are capable of performing virtuous actions; this would be to contradict
the experience of every day. I only wish to prove the efficacy of a
Catholic institution which is despised by Protestants. I speak of the
great influence which this institution has in infusing into our hearts,
and preserving in them, a morality which is cordial, constant, and
applicable to all the acts of our souls.
No doubt, there is in man a monstrous mixture of good and evil; I know
that it is not given him to attain in this life to that ineffable
degree of perfection which consists in a perfect conformity with
Divine truth and holiness--a perfection which he will not be able even
to conceive until the moment when, stripped of his mortal body, he
will be plunged into the pure ocean of light and love. But we cannot
be permitted to doubt that man, in this earthly abode, in the land
of misery and darkness, can, nevertheless, attain to the universal,
delicate, and profound state of morality which I have just described;
and, however much the present corruption of the world may be a too
legitimate subject of affliction, it must be allowed that we still
find, in our own days, a considerable number of honorable exceptions
in the multitude of persons who conform to the strict rule of gospel
morality in their conduct, their wishes, and even in their thoughts and
inmost affections. To attain to this degree of morality (and observe,
I do not say of evangelical perfection, but of mere morality), it is
necessary that the religious principle should be visibly present to the
eyes of the soul, that it should act continually upon her, urging on
or restraining her in an infinite variety of circumstances which, in
the course of life, occur to mislead from the path of duty. The life of
man is, as it were, a chain composed of an infinite variety of acts,
which cannot be constantly in accordance with reason and the eternal
law, unless it remains constantly in the hands of a fixed and universal
regulator. And let it not be said that such a state of morality is a
_beau idéal_, the existence of which would bring such confusion into
the acts of the soul, and complication of the whole life, as in the
end to make it insupportable. No, this is not a mere fancy; it is a
reality which is frequently seen by our eyes, not only in the cloister
and the sanctuary, but amid the confusion and distractions of the
world. That which establishes a fixed rule cannot bring confusion
into the acts of the soul, or complicate the affairs of life. Quite
the contrary; instead of confusion, it serves to distinguish and
illuminate; instead of complicating, it puts in order and simplifies.
Establish this rule, and you will have unity; and with unity general
order.
Catholicity is always distinguished by its extreme vigilance with
respect to morality, by its care in regulating all the acts of life,
and even the most secret movements of the heart. Superficial observers
have declaimed against the prolixity of moralists--against the minute
and detailed study which they make of human actions considered under
a moral aspect; they should have observed, that if Catholicity is
the religion in the bosom of which has appeared so great a number
of moralists, by whom all human actions have been examined in the
greatest detail, it is because this religion has for its object to
moralize for the whole man, as it were, in all his relations with
God, with his neighbor, and with himself. It is clear that such
an enterprise requires a more profound and attentive examination
than would be necessary, if it had only to give to man an imperfect
morality, stopping at the surface of actions, and not penetrating
to the bottom of the heart. With respect to Catholic moralists, and
without attempting to excuse the excess into which some among them have
fallen, either by too great subtility, or by a spirit of party and
dispute (excesses which cannot be imputed to the Catholic Church, since
she has testified her displeasure when she has not expressly condemned
them), it must be observed, that this abundance, this superfluity, if
you will, of moral studies, has contributed more than people think to
direct minds to the intimate study of man, by furnishing a multitude of
facts and observations to those who have subsequently wished to devote
themselves to this important science. Now, can there be a more worthy
or more useful object for our labors? In another part of this work,
I propose to develop the relations of Catholicity with the progress
of science and literature; I shall not, therefore, enter more fully
on the matter now. Still I may be allowed briefly to observe, that
the development and education of the human mind have been principally
theological; and that on this point, as well as on many others,
philosophers are more indebted to theologians than they seem to imagine.
Let us return to the comparison of the Protestant and Catholic
influence on the formation and preservation of a sound public
conscience. We have showed that Catholicity, having constantly
maintained the principle of authority which Protestantism rejects, has
given to moral ideas a force and influence which Protestantism could
not. Protestantism, indeed, by its nature and fundamental principles,
has never given to these ideas any other support than they might have
derived from a school of philosophy. But you will perhaps ask me, do
you not acknowledge the force of these ideas; a force peculiar to them,
and inherent in their nature, and which frequently changes the face of
the world, by deciding its doctrines? Do you not know that they always,
in the end, force a passage, in spite of every obstacle, and of all
resistance? Have you forgotten the teaching of all history; and do you
pretend to deprive human thought of that vital, creative force, which
renders man superior to all that surrounds him? Such is the common
panegyric on the strength of ideas; thus we see them transformed every
moment into all-powerful beings, whose magical wand is capable of
changing every thing at their pleasure.
However this may be, I am full of respect for human thought, and allow
that there is much truth in what is called the force of an idea; yet
I must beg leave to offer a few observations to these enthusiasts,
not directly to combat their opinion, but to make some necessary
modifications. In the first place, ideas, in the point of view in
which we are now considering them, must be divided into two orders;
some flattering our passions, the others checking them. It cannot be
denied that the former have an immense expansive force. They have
a motion of their own; they act in all places; they exert a rapid,
violent power; one would say that they overflow with life and activity.
The latter have great difficulty in making their way; they advance
slowly, they cannot pursue their career without an institution to
secure their stability. And why? Because it is not the ideas themselves
which act in the former case, but the passions which accompany them,
and assume their names; thus masking what is repulsive in them at
first sight. In the latter case, on the contrary, it is the truth
that speaks. Now, in this land of misfortune, the truth is but little
attended to; for it leads to good; and the heart of man, as the
Scripture says, is inclined to evil from his youth. Those who vaunt so
much the native force of ideas, should point out to us, in ancient or
modern history, one idea which, without going out of its own circle,
that of the purely philosophical order, is entitled to the glory of
having materially contributed to the amelioration of individuals and
society.
It is commonly said that the force of ideas is immense; that once shown
among men, they will fructify sooner or later; that once deposited in
the bosom of humanity, they will remain there as a precious legacy,
and contribute wonderfully to the improvement of the world, to the
perfection towards which the human race advances. No doubt these
assertions contain some truth; as man is an intelligent being, all that
immediately affects his mind must certainly influence his destiny.
Thus no great change is worked in society without being first realized
in the order of ideas; all that is established contrary to our ideas,
or without them, must be weak and passing. But it is by no means to
be supposed that every useful idea contains in itself a conservative
force capable of dispensing with all institutions; that is to say, with
support and defence, even during times of social disorder: between
these two propositions there is a gulf which cannot be closed without
contradicting all history. Now humanity, considered by itself, and
given up to its own strength, as it appears to philosophers, is not
so safe a depositary as people wish to suppose. Unhappily we have
melancholy proofs of this truth: we see too clearly that the human
race, far from being a faithful trustee, has but too much imitated the
conduct of a foolish spendthrift. In the cradle of the human race, we
find great ideas on the unity of God, on man, on relations of man with
God and their fellowmen. These ideas were certainly true, salutary,
and fruitful: and yet, what did man do with them? Did he not lose them
by modifying, mutilating, and distorting them in the most deplorable
way? Where were they when Jesus Christ came into the world? What had
humanity done with them? One nation alone preserved them; but in what
way? Fix your attention on the chosen people, the Jews, and you will
see that there was a continual struggle between truth and error;
you will see that, by an inconceivable blindness, they incessantly
inclined to idolatry; they had a constant tendency to substitute the
abominations of the Gentiles for the sublime law of Mount Sinai. And
do you know how the truth was preserved among this people? Observe
it well; it was supported by the strongest institutions that can be
imagined; it was armed with all the means of defence with which an
inspired legislator could surround it. It will be said that they were
a hard-hearted nation, in the language of the Scriptures; unhappily,
since the fall of our first parent, this hardness of heart is become
the patrimony of humanity; _the heart of man is inclined to evil from
his youth_; ages before the existence of the Jews, God had covered the
earth with the waters of heaven, and had blotted out man from the face
of the world; _for all flesh had corrupted its way_. We must conclude
from this, that the preservation of great moral ideas requires powerful
institutions; it is evident, therefore, that they cannot be abandoned
to the fickleness of the human mind without being disfigured, or even
lost. I will say, moreover, that institutions are not only necessary
to teach, but also to apply them. Moral ideas, especially those which
openly contradict the passions, are never reduced to practice without
great efforts; now the ideas themselves do not suffice to make these
great efforts, and means of action are required capable of connecting
ideas with facts; this is one of the reasons of the impotence of
philosophical schools when they attempt to construct any thing. They
are often powerful in destroying; momentary action is enough for this,
and this action may be easily acquired in a moment of enthusiasm. But
when they wish to establish and reduce their conceptions to practice,
they are impotent; their only resource is what is called the force of
ideas. Now, as ideas constantly vary and change--an inconstancy of
which these schools themselves afford the first example--it happens
that what we hear them announce one moment as an infallible means of
human progress, is the next reduced to a mere object of curiosity.
These last observations anticipate the objection that may be urged
against us with respect to the immense force which printing has
given to ideas. But this is so far from being a preserver, that it
may be said to be the best destroyer of all opinions. If we measure
the immense orbit which the human mind has passed through since that
important discovery, we shall see that the _consummation_ of opinions
(if I may be allowed the expression) is increased in a prodigious
degree. The history of the human race, especially since the press
has become periodical, appears to be the representation of a rapid
drama, where the decorations change every moment, where the scenes
succeed each other, scarcely allowing the spectator to catch any of
the author's words. Half of this century has not yet passed away,
and already it seems as if many centuries had elapsed, so great has
been the number of schools which have been born and are dead, of
reputations which, after being raised to the highest pitch of renown,
have been soon forgotten. This rapid succession of ideas, so far from
contributing to increase their force, necessarily renders them weak and
unproductive. The natural order in the progress of ideas is this: at
first to make their appearance, then to be realized in an institution
representing them, and in fine to exert their influence on facts by
means of an institution in which they are personified. Now, it is
necessary that during these transformations, which essentially require
time, ideas should preserve their credit, if they are to produce any
favorable result. But when they succeed each other too rapidly, time
is wanting for their successive transformations; new ideas strive to
discredit the old ones, and consequently to render them useless. This
is the reason why the strength of ideas, that is, of philosophy, was
never so little to be relied on as now, to produce any thing durable
and consistent in the moral order: in this respect, the gain to modern
society may well be questioned. More is conceived, but less matured;
what the mind gains in extent, it loses in depth, and the pretension
in theory makes a sad contrast with the impotence of practice. Of what
importance is it that our predecessors were not so ready as we are in
_improvising_ a discussion on great social and political questions, if
they nevertheless organized and founded such admirable institutions?
The architects who raised the astonishing monuments of ages which we
call barbarous, were certainly not so learned or so cultivated as
those of our time; and yet who has the boldness even to commence what
they have finished? Thus it is in the social and political order. Let
us remember that great thoughts are produced rather by intuition than
by reasoning; in practice, success depends more upon the invaluable
quality called tact, than upon enlightened reflection; and experience
often teaches that he who knows much, sees little. The genius of Plato
would not have been the best guide for Solon or Lycurgus; and all the
knowledge of Cicero would not have succeeded in doing what was done
by the tact and good sense of two unlettered men like Romulus and
Numa.[20]
CHAPTER XXXI.
ON GENTLENESS OF MANNERS IN GENERAL.
A certain general gentleness of manners, which in war prevents great
atrocities, and in peace renders life more quiet and agreeable:--such
is one of the valuable qualities which I have pointed out as forming
the distinguishing characteristics of European civilization. This is a
fact which does not require proof; we see and feel it everywhere when
we look around; it is evident to all who open the pages of history,
and compare our times with any others. Wherein does this gentleness
of manners in modern times consist? what is the cause of it? what has
favoured it? what has opposed it? These interesting questions directly
apply to our present subject; for they lead straight to the examination
of other questions, such as the following: has Catholicity contributed
in any way to this gentleness of manners; or, on the other hand, has
it opposed or retarded it? in fine, what part has Protestantism played
in the work, for good or evil? First of all, we must determine wherein
gentleness of manners consists. Although we have here to deal with an
idea which every one sees, or rather feels, we must still endeavor
to explain and analyze it by a definition as complete and exact as
possible. Gentleness of manners consists _in the absence of force_; so
that manners will be more or less gentle according as force is less
or more employed. Thus, we must not confound gentle with charitable
manners; the latter work good, the former only exclude the idea of
force. We must also distinguish gentle manners from those that are
pure, and conformable to reason and justice. Immorality is often
gentle, when, instead of resorting to force, it makes use of seduction
and stratagem. This gentleness of manners consists in directing the
human mind, not by violence which constrains the body, but by reasons
which address themselves to the intellect, or by appeals to the
passions. Thus it is that gentle manners are not always under the
influence of reason; but their rule is always intellectual, although
they are often made the slaves of the passions by golden chains of
their own formation.
If gentleness of manners consists in not making use, in human
transactions, of other means than those of conviction, persuasion,
or seduction, it is clear that the most advanced society--that is,
that in which intelligence has been most developed--should always
participate more or less in this social advantage. There the mind
rules, because it is strong; while material force disappears, because
the body has less strength. Moreover, in societies very much advanced,
where relations and interests are necessarily much multiplied, there
is an indispensable want of means capable of acting in a universal and
lasting manner, and applicable to all the details of life. These means
are, unquestionably, moral and intellectual: the mind operates without
destruction, while force dashes violently against obstacles, and breaks
itself to pieces, if it cannot overturn them. Thus it is the cause
of continual commotions, which cannot subsist in a society which has
numerous and complicated relations, without throwing into confusion and
destroying society itself.
We always observe in young nations a lamentable abuse of force. Nothing
is more natural: the passions ally themselves with force, because they
resemble it; they are energetical as violence, and rude as its shocks.
When society has reached a great degree of development, the passions
are divorced from force, and become allied with the intelligence; they
cease to be violent, in order to become artful. In the first case, if
it is the people who struggle, they make war on, they contend with, and
destroy each other; in the second case, they contend with the arms of
industry, commerce, and contraband. Governments attack, in the first
case, by arms and invasions; and in the second by diplomacy. In the
first epoch, warriors are every thing; in the second, they are nothing;
they have not a very important part to play when negotiation, and not
fighting, is required. When we look at ancient civilization, we observe
a remarkable difference between the character of its manners and the
gentleness of ours. Neither the Greeks nor Romans ever regarded this
precious quality in the light in which we regard it, for the honor of
European civilization. Those nations became enervated, but they did
not become gentle; we may say that their manners were made effeminate,
but they were not softened; for we see them make use of force on all
occasions, when neither vigor of body nor energy of mind was required.
There is nothing more worthy of observation than this peculiarity of
ancient civilization, especially of that of Rome. Now this phenomenon,
which at first sight appears to us to be very strange, has very deep
causes. Besides the principal of these causes, which is, the want of
an element of civilization such as that which modern nations have had
in Christian charity, we shall find among the ancients, if we descend
to the details of their social organization, certain causes which
necessarily hindered this gentleness of manners being established among
them.
In the first case, slavery, one of the constituent elements of their
social and domestic organization, was an eternal obstacle to the
introduction of this precious quality. The man who has the power of
throwing another to the fishes, and of punishing with death the crime
of breaking a glass; he who during a feast, to gratify his caprice,
can take away the life of one of his brethren; he who can rest upon
a voluptuous couch, surrounded by the most sumptuous magnificence,
while he knows that hundreds of men, crowded together in dark vaults,
work incessantly for his cupidity and his pleasures; he who can hear
without emotion the lamentations of a crowd of unhappy beings imploring
a morsel of bread to pass through the night's misery which is to unite
their labors and fatigues of the evening with those of the morning,
such a man may have effeminate, but he cannot have gentle manners; his
heart may become enervated, but it will not cease to be cruel. This
was precisely the situation of the free man in ancient society: the
organization of which we have just stated the results was regarded as
indispensable; they could not even conceive the possibility of any
other order of things. What removed this obstacle? was it not the
Catholic Church, by abolishing slavery, after having ameliorated the
cruel lot of slaves? Those who revert to the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th,
and 19th chapters of this work, with the notes appended to them, will
find the truth of this demonstrated by incontestable reasons and
documents.
In the second place, the right of life and death, given by the laws to
the paternal power, introduced into families an element of severity
which could not but produce injurious effects. Happily, the hearts of
fathers were continually contending against the power thus granted
by law: but if this feeling did not prevent some deeds the perusal
of which makes us shudder, must we not suppose that, in the ordinary
course of life, cruel scenes constantly reminded the members of
families of this atrocious right with which the chief was invested?
Will not he who is possessed of the power of killing with impunity, be
frequently hurried into acts of cruel despotism? Now this tyrannical
extension of the rights of paternal authority, carried far beyond the
limits pointed out by nature, was taken away by the force of laws and
manners which were much aided by the influence of Catholicity (see the
24th chap. of this work). To the two causes which I have just pointed
out, may be added another perfectly analogous, viz. the despotism which
the husband exercised over his wife, and the little respect which was
paid to her. Public spectacles were, among the Romans, another element
of severity and cruelty. What could be expected of a people whose
principal amusement is to look coolly upon homicide--who took pleasure
in witnessing the slaughter in the arena of hundreds of men fighting
against each other, or against wild beasts?
As a Spaniard, I feel called upon here to insert a paragraph, in
reply to the observations which will be made against me on this
point: I allude to the Spanish bull-fights. I shall naturally be
asked, Is it not in a Christian and Catholic country that the custom
of making men fight against animals is preserved? The objection,
however plausible it may seem, can be answered. In the first place,
to avoid any misunderstanding, I declare that this popular amusement
is, in my opinion, barbarous, and ought, if possible, to be completely
extirpated. But after this full and explicit avowal, let me be
permitted to make a few observations, to screen the honor of my
country. In the first place, it must be remarked, that there is in the
human heart a secret taste for risks and dangers; in order to make
an adventure interesting, it is necessary that the hero should be
encompassed with great and multiplied perils; if a history is to excite
curiosity to a high degree, it must not be an uninterrupted chain of
peaceful and happy events. We wish to find ourselves frequently in the
presence of extraordinary and surprising facts; and, however unpleasant
may be the avowal, our hearts, while they feel the tenderest compassion
for the unfortunate, seem to require the contemplation of scenes of a
more violent and exciting character. Hence the taste for tragedies:
hence the love of scenes in which the actors incur great risks, in
appearance or in reality. It is not my duty here to explain the
origin of this phenomenon; it is enough for me here to point out its
existence to show foreigners who accuse us of being barbarians, that
the taste of the Spanish people for bull-fights is only the application
to a particular case, of an inclination inherent everywhere in the
heart of man. Those who, with respect to this custom of the Spanish
people, affect so much humanity, would do well to answer the following
questions: To what is owing the pleasure taken by the multitude in
every exhibition, when the actors run any risk in one way or another?
Whence comes it that all would willingly be present at the bloodiest
battle, if they could do so without danger? Whence comes it that
everywhere an immense multitude assembles to witness the agonies and
the last convulsions of a criminal on the gibbet? Whence comes it, in
fine, that foreigners, when at Madrid, render themselves accomplices
in the barbarity of Spaniards by assisting at these bull-fights? I
say this, not in any degree to excuse a custom which appears to me to
be unworthy of a civilized people, but to show that in this point, as
well as in almost all that relates to the Spanish people, there are
exaggerations which ought to be reduced within reasonable limits. Let
us add an important observation, which is the best excuse that can be
made for this reprehensible exhibition: instead of fixing our attention
on the spectacle itself, let us consider the evils that flow from
it. Now, I ask, how many men die in Spain in bull-fights? The number
is extremely small, and altogether insignificant in proportion to
the frequency of these spectacles; so that if a comparison were made
between the accidents which occur in consequence of this amusement
and those that happen in other sports, such as horse-races and others
of the same kind, we should perhaps find that bull-fights, however
barbarous they may be in themselves, still do not deserve all the
anathemas with which foreigners have loaded them. To return to our
principal object, how, we ask, is it possible to compare an amusement
which, perhaps, may not cost the life of one man during many years,
to those terrible shows in which death was a necessary condition for
the pleasure of the spectators? After the triumph of Trajan over the
Dacians, the public games lasted twenty-three days, and the fearful
number of six thousand gladiators was slain. Such were the amusements
at Rome, not only of the populace, but of the highest classes;
such were the horrible spectacles required by a people who added
voluptuousness to the most atrocious cruelty. This is a most convincing
proof of what I have said, viz. that manners may be effeminate without
being gentle, and that the brutality of unbounded luxury is not
inconsistent with the instinct of blood-thirsty ferocity.
It is impossible that such spectacles should be tolerated among modern
nations, however corrupt their manners may be. The principle of charity
has extended its empire too universally for such excesses to be
renewed. This charity, it is true, does not induce men to do all the
good to each other that they ought; but, at least, it prevents their
coldly perpetrating evil, and assisting quietly at the slaughter of
their brethren to gratify the pleasure of the moment. Christianity, at
its birth, cast into society the seed of this aversion to homicide.
Who is not aware of the repugnance of Christians for the shows of the
Gentiles--a repugnance prescribed and kept alive by the admonitions
of the early pastors of the Church? It was an acknowledged fact, that
Christian charity prohibited the being present at games where homicide
formed part of the spectacle. "As for us," said one of the apologists
of the early ages, "we make little difference between committing murder
and seeing it committed."[21]
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE IMPROVEMENT OF MANNERS BY THE ACTION OF THE CHURCH.
Modern society ought, it would seem, to be distinguished for severity
and cruelty, since it was formed from that of the Romans and
barbarians, from both of whom it should have inherited these qualities.
Who is not aware of the fierce manners of the northern barbarians? The
historians of that time have left us statements that make us shudder
when we read them. It was believed that the end of the world was at
hand; and, indeed, it was excusable to consider the last catastrophe
as near, when so many other melancholy ones had already been heaped
upon humanity. The imagination cannot figure to itself what would have
happened to the world at this crisis, if Christianity had not existed.
Even supposing that society would have been organized anew under one
form or another, it is certain that private and public relations would
have remained in a state of lamentable disorder, and that legislation
would have been unjust and inhuman. Thus the influence of the Church on
civil legislation was an inestimable benefit; thus even the power of
the clergy in temporal things was one of the greatest safeguards of the
highest interests of society.
Attacks are often made upon this temporal power of the clergy and this
influence of the Church in worldly affairs. But, in the first place, it
should be remembered, that this power and influence were brought about
by the very nature of things; that is to say, they were natural, and,
consequently, to assail them is to declaim in vain against the force of
events, of which no man could hinder the realization. This power and
influence, besides, were legitimate; for when society is in danger,
nothing can be more legitimate than that that which can save it should
save it. Now, at the time we speak of, the Church alone could save
society. The Church, which is not an abstract being, but a real and
substantial society, acted upon civil society by real and substantial
means. If the purely material interests of society were in question,
the minister of the Church ought, in some way or other, to take part
in the direction of those interests. These reflections are so natural
and simple, that their truth must be seen by good sense. All those who
know any thing of history are now generally agreed on this point; and
if we are not aware how much it generally costs the human mind to enter
upon the path of truth, and, above all, how much bad faith there has
been in the examination of these questions, we shall have a difficulty
in understanding that so much time should have been required to bring
the world to agree on a thing which is apparent to those who read
history. But let us return to our subject. This extraordinary mixture
of the cruelty of a cultivated but corrupted people with the atrocious
ferocity of a barbarous one, proud of its triumphs, and intoxicated
with blood during long wars, placed in European society a germ of
severity and cruelty which fermented there for ages, and the remains of
which we find at a late period. The precept of Christian charity was in
men's heads, but Roman cruelty and barbarian ferocity still prevailed
in their hearts; ideas were pure and beneficent, since they proceeded
from a religion of love, but they encountered a terrible resistance
in the habits, manners, institutions, and laws, for all these were
more or less disfigured by the two mixed principles which I have just
pointed out. If we reflect upon the constant and obstinate struggle
between the Catholic Church and the elements which contended with her,
we shall clearly see that Christian ideas could never have prevailed
in legislation and manners, if Christianity had been a religious idea
abandoned to human caprice, as Protestants imagine; it was necessary
for it to be realized in a powerful institution, in a strongly
constituted society, such as we find in the Catholic Church. In order
to give an idea of the efforts made by the Church, I will point out
some of the regulations which she made for the purpose of improving
manners. Private animosities were very violent at the time of which we
speak; and right was decided by force, and the world was threatened
with becoming the patrimony of the strongest. Public law did not
exist, or was hurried away and confounded by outrages which its feeble
hand could never prevent or repress; it was altogether powerless in
rendering manners pacific, and in subjecting men to reason and justice.
Then we see that the Church, besides the instruction and the general
admonitions inseparable from her sacred mission, adopted at that time
certain measures calculated to restrain the torrent of violence which
ravaged and destroyed every thing. The Council of Arles, celebrated in
the middle of the fifth century, between 443 and 452, ordains, in its
50th canon, that the Church should be interdicted to those who have
public animosities, until they were reconciled. The Council of Angers,
celebrated in 453, proscribes, by its 3d canon, acts of violence and
mutilation. The Council of Agde, in Languedoc, celebrated in 506,
ordains, in its 31st canon, that enemies who would not be reconciled
should be admonished by the priests, and excommunicated if they did not
follow their apostolical counsels.
The Franks at that time had the custom of going armed, and they always
entered the churches with their arms. It will be understood that such
a custom must have produced great evils; the house of prayer was often
converted into an arena of blood and vengeance. In the middle of the
seventh century, the Council of Chalons-sur-Saone, in its 17th canon,
pronounces excommunication against all laymen who excite tumults,
or draw their swords to strike any one in the churches or in their
precincts. Thus, we see the prudence and foresight which dictated the
29th canon of the third Council of Orleans, celebrated in 538, which
forbids any one to be present at mass or vespers, armed. It is curious
to observe the uniformity of design and plan pursued by the Church.
In countries the most distant from each other, and at times when
communication could not be frequent, we find regulations analogous to
those which we have pointed out. The Council of Lerida, held in 546,
ordains, by its 7th canon, that he who shall have sworn not to be
reconciled with his enemy, shall be deprived of the participation of
the body and blood of Jesus Christ until he has done penance for his
oath and been reconciled.
Centuries passed away, acts of violence continued, the precept of
fraternal charity, which obliges us to love even our enemies, always
met with open resistance in the harsh character and fierce passions
of the descendants of the barbarians; but the Church did not cease to
preach the divine command; she continually inculcated and labored
to render it efficacious by means of spiritual penalties. More than
four hundred years had elapsed since the celebration of the Council
of Arles, where we have seen the church forbidden to those who were
openly at variance; we then see the Council of Worms, held in 868,
pronouncing, in its 41st canon, excommunication against enemies who
refused to be reconciled. It will suffice to have some idea of the
disorders of that time, to know whether it was possible to appease the
violence of animosities during this long period. One would fancy that
the Church would have been wearied of inculcating a precept which the
unhappy state of circumstances so often rendered fruitless; but such
was not the case: she continued to speak as she had spoken for ages;
she never lost her confidence that her words would produce fruit in the
present, and would be productive in the future. Such is her system;
one would think that she heard these words constantly repeated, "Cry
out, cry out without ceasing; raise thy voice like a trumpet." It is
then that she triumphs over all resistance; when she cannot exert
her power over the will of a nation, she makes her voice heard with
indefatigable diligence in the sanctuary. There she assembles seven
thousand who have not bent the knee to Baal; and while she endeavors to
confirm them in faith and good works, she protests, in the name of God,
against those who resist the Holy Spirit. Let us imagine that, amid
the dissipation and distraction of a populous city, we enter a sacred
place, where seriousness and moderation reign, in the bosom of silence
and religious retirement; there a minister of the sanctuary, surrounded
by a chosen number of the faithful, utters from time to time some
serious and solemn words. This is the personification of the Church in
times disastrous from weakened faith and corrupted morals. One of the
rules of conduct of the Catholic Church has been, not to bend before
the powerful. When she has proclaimed a law, she has proclaimed it for
all, without distinction of rank. In the time of the power of those
petty tyrants, who, under different names, persecuted the people, this
conduct of the Church contributed in an extraordinary degree to render
the ecclesiastical laws popular; for nothing was more likely to make
a law tolerable to the people than to show that it applied to nobles,
and even to kings. In the times of which we speak, hatred and violence
among plebeians were severely proscribed; but the same law extended
to great men and to royalty. A short time after the establishment
of Christianity in England, we find a very curious example in that
country, applicable to this question. It is nothing less than
excommunication pronounced against three kings in the same year, and
in the same town; all these were compelled by the Councils to do
penance for the crimes which they had committed. The town of Llandaff,
in Wales, within the metropolitan see of Canterbury, witnessed the
celebration of three Councils, in the year 560. In the first, Monric,
king of Glamorgan, was excommunicated for having put to death King
Cinétha, although he had sworn the peace on the sacred relics; in the
second, King Morcant was excommunicated for having put to death Friac,
his uncle, in whose favor he had equally sworn the peace; in the third,
King Guidnert was excommunicated for having put to death his brother,
the competitor for the throne.
Thus, these barbarian chiefs, just changed into kings, and prone to
slaughter, are compelled to acknowledge the authority of a superior
power, and to expiate by penance the murder of their relatives and
the violation of sacred engagements; it is useless to point out how
much this must have contributed to the improvement of manners. "It was
easy," the enemies of the Church will say--those who endeavor to lower
the merit of her acts--"it was easy to preach gentleness of manners,
to impose the observance of divine precepts on chiefs whose power was
limited, and who had only the name of kings; it was easy to manage
those petty barbarian chiefs, who, rendered fanatical by a religion of
which they understood nothing, humbly bowed before the first priest who
ventured to menace them on the part of God. But of what importance
was that? What influence could it have on the course of great events?
The history of European civilization presents a vast theatre, where
events must be studied on a large scale, and where none but the most
important scenes exercised any influence on the spirit of nations." Let
us observe, that these petty barbarian kings were the origin of the
principal families which now occupy the most important thrones of the
world. To place the germ of real civilization in their hearts, was to
graft the tree which was one day to overshadow the earth. But without
staying to show the futility of such reasoning, and as our opponents
desire great scenes capable of influencing European manners on a
large scale, let us open the history of the Church in the first ages,
and we shall soon find a page which redounds to the eternal honor of
Catholicity. The whole of the known world was subject to an emperor,
whose name, then universally venerated, will continue to be respected
by the remotest posterity. In an important city, the rebellious
inhabitants put to death the commander of the garrison; the emperor,
transported with anger, orders them to be exterminated. Returning to
himself, he revokes the order; but it was too late, the order was
executed, and thousands of victims had been involved in the horrible
carnage; at the news of this dreadful catastrophe, a bishop quits the
court of the emperor, leaves the city, and writes to him in this grave
language: "I dare not offer the sacrifice if you attempt to be present
at it; the blood of one innocent person would suffice to forbid me; how
much more the massacre of a large number." The emperor, confident in
his power, takes no notice of this letter, and goes towards the church.
When he arrives at the door, he finds himself in the presence of a
venerable man, who, with a grave and stern countenance, stops him and
forbids him to enter the church. "Thou hast imitated David in crime,"
he says, "imitate him also in penance." The emperor yields, humbles
himself, and submits to the regulations of the bishop, and religion and
humanity gain an immortal triumph. This unhappy city was Thessalonica;
the emperor was Theodosius; the prelate was St. Ambrose, Archbishop of
Milan.
We find face to face, in this sublime fact, force and justice
personified. Justice triumphs over force; but why? Because he who
represents justice, represents it in the name of Heaven; because
the sacred vestments and the imposing attitude of the man who stops
the emperor reminds Theodosius of the divine mission of the holy
bishop, and of the office which he holds in the sacred ministry. Put
a philosopher in the place of the bishop, and tell him to arrest the
proud culprit by an injunction of doing penance, and you will see
whether human wisdom can do as much as the Catholic priest speaking
in the name of God. Put, if you please, a bishop of the Church, who
has acknowledged spiritual supremacy in the civil power, and you will
see whether in his mouth words have the same effect in obtaining so
glorious a triumph. The spirit of the Church was always the same; her
arms were always directed towards the same end; her language was always
equally strict, equally strong, whether she spoke to the Roman plebeian
or a barbarian, whether she addressed her admonitions to a patrician of
the empire or to a noble German. She was no more afraid of the purple
of the Cæsars than of the frowns of the long-haired kings. The power
which she possessed during the middle ages was not exclusively owing
to her having preserved alone the light of science and the principles
of government; but it was also owing to the invincible firmness, which
no resistance and no attack could destroy. What would Protestantism
have effected in such difficult and dangerous circumstances? Without
authority, without a centre of action, without security for her own
faith, without confidence in her resources, what means would she
have had to assist her in restraining the torrent of violence--that
impetuous torrent, which, after having inundated the world, was about
to destroy the remains of ancient civilization, and opposed to all
attempts at social reorganization an obstacle almost insurmountable?
Catholicity, with its ardent faith, its powerful authority, its
undivided unity, its well-compacted hierarchy, was able to undertake
the lofty enterprise of improving manners; and it brought to the
undertaking that constancy which is inspired by conscious strength, and
that boldness which animates a mind secure of triumph.
We must not, however, imagine that the conduct of the Church, in her
mission of improving manners, always brought her into collision with
force. We also see her employ indirect means, limit her demands to what
she could obtain, and ask for as little, in order to obtain as much as
possible. In a capitulary of Charlemagne, given at Aix-la-Chapelle in
813, and consisting of twenty-six articles, which are nothing more than
a sort of confirmation and _résumé_ of the five Councils held a little
before in France, we find in an appendix of two articles the method of
proceeding judicially against those who, under pretext of the right
called _faida_, excited tumults on Sundays, holidays, and also working
days. We have already seen above that they had recourse to the holy
relics, to give greater authority to the oaths of peace and friendship
taken by kings towards each other--an august act, in which Heaven was
invoked to prevent the effusion of blood, and to establish peace on
earth. We see in the capitulary which we have just quoted, that the
respect for Sundays and holidays was made use of to bring about the
abolition of the barbarous custom, which authorized the relations of
a murdered man to avenge his death in the blood of the murderer. The
deplorable state of European society at that time is vividly painted
by the means which the ecclesiastical power was compelled to use, to
diminish in some degree the disasters occasioned by the prevailing
violence. Not to attack, not to maltreat any one, not to have recourse
to force to obtain reparation or to gratify a desire of vengeance,
appears to us to be so just, so reasonable, and so natural, that
we can hardly imagine another way of acting. If, now, a law were
promulgated, to forbid one to attack one's enemy on such or such a day,
at such or such an hour, it would appear to us the height of folly and
extravagance. But it was not so at that time; such prohibitions were
made continually, not in obscure hamlets, but in great towns, in very
numerous assemblies, when bishops were present in hundreds, and where
counts, dukes, princes, and kings were gathered together. This law, by
which authority was glad to make the principles of justice respected,
at least on certain days,--principally on the great solemnities,--this
law, which now would appear to us so strange, was, in a certain way,
and for a long period, one of the chief points of public and private
law in Europe. It will be understood that I allude to the truce of God,
a privilege of peace very necessary at that time, as we see it very
often renewed in various countries. Of all that I might say on this
point, I shall content myself with selecting a few of the decisions
of Councils at the time. The Council of Tubuza, in the diocese of
Elne, in Roussillon, held by Guifred, Archbishop of Narbonne, in 1041,
established the truce of God, from the evening of Friday until Monday
morning. Nobody during that time could take any thing by force, or
revenge any injury, or require any pledge in surety. Those who violated
this decree were liable to the same legal composition as if they had
merited death; in default of which, they were excommunicated and
banished from the country.
The practice of this ecclesiastical regulation was considered so
advantageous, that many other Councils were held in France during the
same year, on the same subject. Moreover, care was taken frequently
to repeat the obligation, as we see by the Council of Saint Gilles,
in Languedoc, held in 1042, and by that of Narbonne, held in 1045. In
spite of these, repeated efforts did not obtain all the desired fruit;
this is indicated by the changes which we observe in the regulations
of the law. Thus we see that, in the year 1047, the truce of God was
fixed for a less time than in 1041; the Council of Telugis, in the same
diocese of Elne, held in 1047, only ordains that it is forbidden to
any one in all the _comté_ of Roussillon to attack his enemy between
the hours of none on Sunday and prime on Monday; the law was then
much less extensive than in 1041, when, as we have seen, the truce of
God was extended from Friday evening till Monday morning. We find in
the same Council a remarkable regulation, the object of which was to
preserve from all attack men who were going to church or returning
from it, or who were accompanying women. In 1054, the truce of God
had gained ground; we see it extended, not only from Friday evening
till Monday morning after sunrise, but over considerable periods of
the year. Thus we see that the Council of Narbonne, held by Archbishop
Guifred, in 1045, after having included in the truce of God the time
from Friday evening till Monday morning, declares it obligatory during
the following periods: from the first Sunday of Advent till the octave
of the Epiphany; from Quinquagesima Sunday till the octave of Easter;
from the Sunday preceding the Ascension till the octave of Pentecost;
the festival days of Our Lady, of St. Peter, of St. Laurence, of
St. Michael, of All Saints, of St. Martin, of St. Just and Pasteur,
titularies of the Church of Narbonne, and all fasting days, under pain
of anathema and perpetual banishment. The same Council gives some other
regulations, so beautiful that we cannot pass them over in silence,
when we are engaged in showing the influence of the Catholic Church in
improving manners. The 9th canon forbids the cutting of olive-trees;
a reason for it is given, which, in the eyes of jurists, will not
appear sufficiently general or adequate, but which, in the eyes of
the philosophy of history, is a beautiful symbol of the beneficial
influence exercised over society by religion. This is the reason
given by the Council: "It is," it says, "_that the olive-trees may
furnish matter for the holy chrism, and feed the lamps that burn in
the churches_." Such a reason was sure to produce more effect than any
that could be drawn from Ulpian and Justinian. It is ordained in the
10th canon that shepherds and their flocks shall enjoy at all times the
security of the truce; the same favor is extended by the 11th canon to
all houses within thirty paces of the churches. The 18th canon forbids
those who have a suit, to take any active steps, to commit the least
violence, until the cause has been judged in presence of the bishop and
lord of the place. The other canons forbid the robbing of merchants and
pilgrims, and the commission of wrong against any one, under pain of
being separated from the Church, if the crime be committed during the
time of the truce.
In proportion as we advance in the 11th century, we see the salutary
practice of the truce of God more and more inculcated; the Popes
interpose their authority in its favor. At the Council of Gironne, held
by Cardinal Hugues-le-Blanc, in 1068, the truce of God is confirmed
by the authority of Alexander II., under pain of excommunication; the
Council held in 1080, at Lillebonne, in Normandy, gives us reason
to suppose that the truce was then generally established, since it
ordains, by its first canon to bishops and lords, to take care that it
was observed, and to inflict on offenders against it censures and other
penalties. In the year 1093, the Council of Troja, in Apulia, held
by Urban II., continues the truce of God. To judge of the extent of
this canonical regulation, we should know that this Council consisted
of sixty-five bishops. The number was much greater at the Council of
Clermont, in Auvergne, held by the same Urban II., in 1095; it reckoned
no less than thirteen archbishops, two hundred and twenty bishops, and
a great number of abbots. The first canon of this Council confirms the
truce for Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday; it wishes, moreover,
that it should be observed on all the days of the week, with respect to
monks, clergy, and women. The canons 29 and 30 ordain, that if a man
pursued by an enemy take refuge near a cross, he should be in safety,
as if he had found asylum in a church. The sublime sign of redemption,
after having given salvation to the world, by drinking on Calvary the
blood of the Son of God, had already proved a refuge, during the sack
of Rome, to those who fled from the fury of the barbarians; centuries
later, we find it erected on the roads, to save the unfortunate, who,
by embracing it, escaped their enemies, who were thus deterred from
vengeance.
The Council of Rouen, held in 1096, extending still further the benefit
of the truce, ordains the observance of it from the Sunday before
Ash Wednesday till the second feast after the octave of Pentecost,
from sunset on Wednesday preceding Advent to the octave of Epiphany,
and every week from Friday after sunset till the Monday following at
sunrise; in fine, on all the feasts and vigils of the Virgin and the
Apostles. The 2d canon of the same Council secures perpetual peace to
all clergy, monks, and nuns, to women, to pilgrims, to merchants and
their servants, to oxen and horses of labor, to carmen and laborers;
it gives the same privileges to all lands that belong to sacred
institutions; all such persons, animals, and lands are protected from
the attacks of pillage and all kinds of violence. At this time the
law felt itself stronger; it could now call for obedience in a firmer
tone; we see, indeed, that the third canon of the same Council enjoins
upon all who have reached the age of twelve, to engage by oath to
observe the truce; in the fourth canon, all who refuse to take this
oath are excommunicated. Some years after, in 1115, the truce, instead
of comprising certain stated parts of the year, embraces whole years;
the Council of Troja in Apulia, held in that year by Pope Pascal,
establishes the truce for three years.
The Popes pursued with ardor the work thus commenced; they sanctioned
it with their authority, and extended the observance of the truce by
means of their influence, then universal and powerful over all Europe.
Although the truce was apparently only a testimony of respect paid to
religion by the violent passions, which, in her favor, consented to
suspend their hostilities, it was, in reality, a triumph of right over
might, and one of the most admirable devices ever used to improve the
manners of a barbarous people. The man who, during four days of the
week, and during long periods of the year, was compelled to suspend the
exercise of force, was necessarily led to more gentle manners; he must,
in the end, entirely renounce it. The difficulty is not, to convince
a man that he does ill, but to make him lose the habit of doing so;
and it is well known that habits are engendered by the repetition of
acts, and are lost when they cease for a time. Nothing is more pleasing
to the Christian soul than to see the Popes laboring to maintain and
extend this truce. They renew the command of it with a power the more
efficacious and universal according to the number of bishops who assist
at the Councils where their supreme authority presides. At the Council
of Rheims, opened by Pope Calixtus II. in person, in 1119, a decree
confirming the truce is promulgated. Thirteen archbishops, more than
two hundred bishops, and a great number of abbots and ecclesiastics,
distinguished for their rank, assisted at this Council. The same
command is renewed at the General Council of Lateran, held under the
care of the same Pontiff, Calixtus II., in 1123. There were assembled
more than three hundred archbishops and bishops, and more than six
hundred abbots. In 1130, the Council of Clermont, in Auvergne, held by
Innocent II., insists on the same point, and repeats the regulations
concerning the observance of the truce. The Council of Avignon,
held in 1209, by Hugh, Bishop of Riez, and Milon, notary of Pope
Innocent III., both legates of the Holy See, confirms the laws before
enacted on the subject of the peace and the truce, and condemns the
rebellious who dare to infringe them. In the year 1215, at the Council
of Montpellier, assembled by Robert de Courçon, and presided over by
Cardinal Benavent, in his office as legate of the province, all the
regulations established at different times for the public safety, and
more recently to secure peace between lord and lord, and town and town,
are renewed and confirmed.
Those who have regarded the intervention of the ecclesiastical power
in civil affairs as a usurpation of the rights of public authority,
should tell us how it is possible to usurp that which does not exist,
and how a power which is unable to exercise the authority which ought
to belong to it, can reasonably complain when that authority passes
into the hands of those who have force and skill to make use of it.
At that time, the public authority did not at all complain of these
pretended usurpations. Governments and nations looked upon them as
just and legitimate; for, as we have said above, they were natural and
necessary, they were brought about by the force of events, they were
the result of the situation of affairs. Certainly, it would now seem
extraordinary to see bishops provide for the security of roads, publish
edicts against incendiaries, against robbers, against those who cut
down olive-trees and commit other injuries of the kind; but, at the
time we are speaking of, this proceeding was very natural, and more,
it was necessary. Thanks to the care of the Church, to that incessant
solicitude which has been since so inconsiderately blamed, the
foundations of the social edifice, in which we now dwell in peace, were
laid; an organization was realized which would have been impossible
without the influence of religion and the action of ecclesiastical
authority. If you wish to know whether any fact of which you have to
judge is the result of the nature of things, or the fruit of well
contrived combinations, observe the manner in which it appears, the
places where it takes its rise, the times which witness its appearance;
and if you shall find it reproduced at once in places far distant from
each other, by men who can have had no concert, be assured that it is
not the result of human contrivance, but of the force of events. These
conditions are found united in a palpable manner in the action of the
ecclesiastical power on public affairs. Open the Councils of those
times, and everywhere the same facts meet your eyes; thus, to quote a
few examples, the Council of Palentia, in the kingdom of Leon, held in
1129, decrees, in its 12th canon, exile or seclusion in a monastery,
against those who attack the clergy, monks, merchants, pilgrims, and
women. Let us pass into France; the Council of Clermont, in Auvergne,
held in 1130, pronounces, in its 13th canon, excommunication against
incendiaries. In 1157, the Council of Rheims, in the 3d canon, orders
to be respected, during war, the persons of the clergy, of monks,
women, travellers, laborers, and vine-dressers. Let us pass into
Italy; the 11th Council of Lateran, a General Council, convoked in
1179, forbids, in its 22d canon, to maltreat or disturb monks, clergy,
pilgrims, merchants, peasants, either travelling or engaged in the
labors of agriculture, and animals laboring in the fields. In its 24th
canon, the same Council excommunicates those who make slaves of, or
rob, Christians on voyages of commerce, or for other lawful purposes;
those who plunder the shipwrecked are subjected to the same penalty,
unless they make restitution. Let us go to England; there the Council
of Oxford, held in 1222, by Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury,
forbids, by its 20th canon, any one to have robbers in their service.
In Sweden, the Council of Arbogen, held in 1396, by Henry, Archbishop
of Upsala, directs, by its 5th canon, that church-burial shall
be refused to pirates, ravishers, incendiaries, highway robbers,
oppressors of the poor, and other malefactors; so that in all parts,
and at the same periods, we see the same fact appear, viz. the
Church struggling against injustice and violence, and endeavoring to
substitute in their stead the empire of law and justice.
In what spirit must they read the history of the Church, who do not
feel the beauty of the picture presented to us by the multitude of
regulations, scarcely indicated here, all tending to protect the weak
against the strong? The clergy and monks, on account of the weakness
consequent on their peaceful profession, find in the canons which
we have just quoted peculiar protection; but the same is granted to
females, to pilgrims, to merchants, to villagers, travelling, or
engaged in rural labors, and to beasts of labor--in a word, to all that
is weak; and observe, that this protection is not a mere passing effort
of generosity, but a system practised in widely different places,
continued for centuries, developed and applied by all the means that
charity suggests--a system inexhaustible in resources and contrivances,
both in producing good and in preventing evil. And surely it cannot be
said that the Church was influenced in this by views of self-interest:
what interested motive could she have in preventing the spoliation of
an obscure traveller, the violence inflicted on a poor laborer, or the
insult offered to a defenceless woman? The spirit which then animated
her, whatever might be the abuses which were introduced during unhappy
times, was, as it now is, the spirit of God himself--that spirit which
continually communicates to her so marked an inclination towards
goodness and justice, and always urges her to realize, by any possible
means, her sublime desires. I leave the reader to judge whether or not
the constant efforts of the Church to banish the dominion of force
from the bosom of society were likely to improve manners. I now speak
only of times of peace; for I need not stay to prove that during the
time of war that influence must have had the happiest results. The _væ
victis_ of the ancients has disappeared from modern history, thanks
to the divine religion which knew how to inspire man with new ideas
and new feelings--thanks to the Catholic Church, whose zeal for the
redemption of captives has softened the fierce maxims of the Romans,
who, as we have seen, had considered it necessary to take from brave
men the hope of being redeemed from servitude, when by the chances of
war they had fallen into the hands of their enemies. The reader may
revert to the seventh chapter of this work, and the third paragraph of
the fifteenth note, where there are, in the original text, numerous
documents that may be quoted in support of our assertion; he will thus
be better able to judge of the gratitude which is due to the charity,
disinterestedness, and indefatigable zeal of the Catholic Church in
favor of the unfortunate, who groaned in bondage in the power of their
enemies. We must also consider that, slavery once abolished, the system
was necessarily improved; for if those who surrendered could no longer
be put to death, or be kept in slavery, the only thing to be done was,
to retain them for the time necessary to prevent their doing mischief,
or until they were ransomed. Now, this is the modern system, which
consists in retaining prisoners till the end of the war, or until they
are exchanged.
Although the amelioration of manners, as I have said above, consists,
properly speaking, in the exclusion of force, we must yet avoid
considering this exclusion of force in the abstract, and believing that
such an order of things was possible, by virtue of the mere development
of mind. All is connected in this world; it is not enough, to
constitute the real improvement of manners, that they avoid violence as
much as possible; they must also be benevolent. As long as they are not
so, they will be less gentle than enervated; the use of force will not
be banished from society, but it will remain artificially disguised.
It will be understood, then, that we are obliged here to take a survey
of the principle whence European civilization has drawn the spirit of
benevolence which distinguishes it; we shall thus succeed in showing
that the gentleness of our present manners is principally owing to
Catholicity. There is, besides, in the examination of the principle
of benevolence, so much importance of its own, independently of its
connection with the question which now occupies us, that we cannot
avoid devoting some pages to it, in the course of an analytical review
of the elements of our civilization.[22]
CHAPTER XXXIII.
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF PUBLIC BENEFICENCE IN EUROPE.
Never will manners be perfectly gentle without the existence of public
beneficence; so that gentleness of manners and beneficence, although
distinct, are sisters. Public beneficence, properly so called, was
unknown among the ancients. Individuals might be beneficent there,
but society was without compassion. Thus, the foundation of public
establishments of beneficence formed no part of the system of
administration among ancient nations. What, then, did they do with
the unfortunate? We will answer with the author of the _Génie de
Christianisme_, that they had no resources but infanticide and slavery.
Christianity having become predominant everywhere, we see the authority
of the Church employed in destroying the remains of cruel customs. In
the year 442, the Council of Vaison, establishing a regulation for the
legitimate possession of foundlings, decrees ecclesiastical censure
against those who disturb by importunate reproaches charitable persons
who have received children. The Council adopts this measure with the
view of protecting a beneficent custom; for, adds the canon, _these
children were exposed to be eaten by dogs_. There were still found
fathers unnatural enough to kill their children. The Council of Lerida,
held in 546, imposes seven years of penance on those who commit such
a crime; and that of Toledo, held in 589, forbids, in the 17th canon,
parents to commit this crime. Still, the difficulty did not consist in
correcting these excesses; crimes thus opposed to the first notions of
morality--so much in contradiction to the feelings of nature--tended
to their own extirpation. The difficulty consisted in finding proper
means to organize a vast system of beneficence, to provide constant
succor, not only for children, but for old men, for the sick, for the
poor incapable of living by their own labor; in a word, for all the
necessitous. Familiarized as we are with such a system universally
established, we see nothing in it but what is simple and natural; we
can hardly find any merit in it. But let us suppose for a moment that
such institutions do not exist; let us transport ourselves to the times
when there was not even the first idea of them, what continued efforts
would there not be required to establish and organize them!
It is clear that by the mere extension of Christian charity in the
world the various wants of humanity must have been more frequently
succored, and with more efficacy, than they were before; and this
even if we suppose that the exercise of charity was limited to purely
individual means. Assuredly, there would always have been a great
number of the faithful who would have remembered the doctrines and
example of Jesus Christ. Our Saviour did not content Himself with
teaching us by his discourses the obligation of loving our neighbor
as ourselves, nor with a barren affection, but by giving food to
the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothes to the naked; by visiting
the sick and prisoners. He showed us in his own conduct a model of
the practice of charity. He could have shown in a thousand ways the
power which belonged to Him in heaven and on earth; his voice could
have controlled all the elements, stopped the motions of the stars,
and suspended all the laws of nature; but He delighted above all in
displaying his beneficence; He only attested his divinity by miracles
which healed or consoled the unfortunate. His whole life is summed
up in the sublime simplicity of these two words of the sacred text:
_pertransiit benefaciendo; He went about doing good_.
Whatever good might be expected from Christian charity when left to
its own inspiration, and acting in a sphere purely individual, it
was not desirable to leave it in this state. It was necessary to
realize it in permanent institutions, and not to leave the consolation
of the unfortunate to the mercy of man and passing circumstances;
this is the reason why there was so much wisdom and foresight in the
idea of founding establishments of beneficence. It was the Church
that conceived and executed this idea. Therein she only applied to a
particular case her general rule of conduct; which is, never to leave
to the will of individuals what can be connected with an institution:
and observe, that this is one of the causes of the strength inherent
in all that belongs to Catholicity. As the principle of authority
in matters of faith preserves to her unity and constancy therein,
so the rule of intrusting every thing to institutions secures the
solidity and duration of all her works. These two principles have an
intimate connection; for if you examine them attentively, the one
supposes that she distrusts the intellect of man, the other, that she
distrusts his individual will and capacity. The one supposes that man
is not sufficient of himself to attain to, and preserve the knowledge
of, certain truths; the other, that he is so feeble and capricious,
that it is unwise to leave to his weakness and inconstancy the care
of doing good. Now, neither one nor the other is injurious to man;
neither one nor the other lowers his proper dignity. The Church only
tells him, that he is, in reality, subject to error, inclined to
evil, inconstant in his designs, and very miserable in his resources.
These are melancholy truths; but the experience of every day attests
them, and the Christian religion explains them, by establishing, as a
fundamental dogma, the fall of man in the person of our first parent.
Protestantism, following principles diametrically opposite, applies the
same spirit of individuality to the will as to the intelligence; it
is even the natural enemy of institutions. Without going further than
our present subject, we see that its first step, on its appearance,
was to destroy what existed, without in any way replacing it. Will
it be believed that Montesquieu went so far as to applaud this work
of destruction? This is another proof of the fatal influence exerted
over minds by the pestilential atmosphere of the last century: "Henri
VIII.," says Montesquieu, "voulant réformer l'église d'Angleterre,
détruisit les moines: nation paresseuse elle-même, et qui entretenait
la paresse des autres, parceque, practiquant l'hospitalité, une
infinité de gens oisifs, gentilhommes et bourgeois, passoient leur vie
à courir de couvent en couvent. _Il ôta encore les hôpitaux, où le bas
peuple trouvait sa subsistence_, comme les gentilhommes trouvaient la
leur dans les monastères. Depuis ce changement, l'esprit de commerce
et d'industrie s'établit en Angleterre." (_De l'Esprit des Lois_, liv.
xxiii. chap. 19.) That Montesquieu should praise this conduct of Henry
VIII., and the destruction of monasteries, for the miserable reason,
that it was good to deprive the idle of the hospitality of the monks,
is a notion which ought not to astonish us, as such vulgar ideas were
in accordance with the taste of the philosophy which had then begun to
prevail. It attempted to find profound economical and political reasons
for all that was in opposition to the institutions of Catholicity; and
this was not difficult, for a prejudiced mind always finds in books,
as well as in facts, what it seeks. We might inquire of Montesquieu,
however, what is become of the property of the monasteries? As these
rich spoils were in great part given to the same nobles who found
hospitality with the monks, we might observe to him, that it was a
singular way of diminishing the idleness of people, to give them as
their own the property which they had previously enjoyed as guests.
It cannot be denied, that to take to the houses of the nobles the
property which had supported the hospitality which the monks showed
them, was certainly to save them the trouble of _running from monastery
to monastery_. But what we cannot tolerate is, to hear vaunted as a
political _chef-d'œuvre_, the _suppression of the hospitals where the
poor people found their subsistence_. What! are these your lofty views,
and is your philosophy so devoid of compassion, that you think the
destruction of the asylums of misfortune proper means for encouraging
industry and commerce? The worst of it is, that Montesquieu, seduced by
the desire of offering new and piquant observations, goes so far as
to deny the utility of hospitals, pretending that, in Rome, they make
all live in comfort except those who labor. He does not wish to have
them in rich nations or in poor ones. He supports this cruel paradox by
a reason stated in the following words: "Quand la nation est pauvre,"
says he, "la pauvreté particulière dérive de la misère générale, et
elle est, pour ainsi dire, la misère générale. Tous les hôpitaux du
monde ne sauraient guérir cette pauvreté particulière; _au contraire
l'esprit de paresse qu'ils inspirent augmente la pauvreté générale,
et par conséquent la particulière_." Thus, hospitals are represented
as dangerous to poor nations, and consequently condemned. Let us now
listen to what is said of rich ones: "J'ai dit que les nations riches
avaient besoin d'hôpitaux, parceque la fortune y était sujette a mille
accidents; mais _on sent que les recours passagers vaudraient bien
mieux que les établissements perpétuels_. Le mal est momentané; il faut
donc des secours de même nature, et qui soient applicables à l'accident
particulier." (_De l'Esprit des Lois_, liv. xxiii. chap. 19.) It is
difficult to find any thing more empty or more false. Undoubtedly, if
we were to judge, by these passages, of the _Esprit des Lois_, the
merit of which has been so much exaggerated, we should be compelled to
condemn it in terms more severe than those employed by M. de Bonald,
when he called it "the most profound of superficial works." Happily for
the poor, and for the good order of society, Europe in general has not
adopted these maxims; and on this point, as on many others, prejudices
against Catholicity have been laid aside, in order to continue, with
more or less modification, the system which she taught. We find in
England herself a considerable number of establishments of beneficence;
and it is not believed in that country that it is necessary, in order
to excite the activity of the poor, to expose them to the danger
of dying of hunger. We should always remember that the system of
public establishments for beneficence, now general in Europe, would
not have existed without Catholicity; indeed, we may rest assured,
that if the religious schism had taken place before the foundation
and organization of this system, European society would not now have
enjoyed these establishments which do it so much honor, and are so
precious an element of good government and public tranquillity. It is
one thing to found and maintain an establishment of this kind, when a
great number of similar ones already exist,--when governments possess
immense resources, and strength sufficient to protect all interests;
but it is a very different thing to establish a multitude of them in
all places, when there is no model to be copied, when it is necessary
to _improvise_ in a thousand ways the indispensable resources,--when
public authority has no _prestige_ or force to control the violent
passions that struggle to gain every thing that they can feed on. Now,
in modern times, since the existence of Protestantism, the first only
of these things has been done; the second was accomplished centuries
before by the Catholic Church; and let it be observed, that what has
been done in Protestant countries in favor of public beneficence, has
been done by administrative acts of the government, acts which were
necessarily inspired by the view of the happy results already obtained
from similar institutions. But Protestantism, by itself, considered as
a separate Church, has done nothing, and it could do nothing; for in
all places where it preserves any thing of hierarchical organization,
it is the mere instrument of the civil power; consequently it
cannot there act by its own inspirations. Such is the vice of its
constitution. Its prejudice against the religious institutions, both
of men and women, make it sterile in this respect. Thus, indeed,
it is deprived of one of the most powerful elements possessed by
Catholicity to accomplish the most arduous and laborious works of
charity. For the great works of charity, it is necessary to be free
from worldly attachments and self-love; and these qualities are found
in an eminent degree in persons who are devoted to charity in religious
institutions. There they commence with that freedom which is the root
of all the rest--the absence of self-love. The Catholic Church has
not been instigated to this by the civil power; she has considered
it as one of her own peculiar duties to provide for the unfortunate.
Her bishops have always been looked upon as the protectors and the
natural inspectors of beneficent establishments. Therefore there was
a law which placed hospitals under the charge of the bishops; and
thence it comes that that class of charitable institutions has always
occupied a distinguished place in canonical legislation. The Church,
from remote times, has made laws concerning hospitals. Thus, we see
the Council of Chalcedon place under the authority of the bishop the
clergy residing in Ptochüs,--that is, as explained by Zonarus, in the
establishments destined to support and provide for the poor: "Such,"
he says, "as those where orphans and the old and infirm are received
and cared for." The Council makes use of this expression, _according to
the tradition of the holy Fathers_; thereby indicating that regulations
had been made of old by the Church concerning establishments of this
kind. The learned also know what the ancient _diaconies_ were,--places
of charity, where poor widows, orphans, old men, and other unfortunate
persons, were received.
When the irruption of the barbarians had introduced everywhere the
reign of force, the possessions which hospitals already had, and those
which they afterwards gained, were exposed to unbounded rapacity. The
Church did all she could to protect them. It was forbidden to take
them, under the severest penalties; those who made the attempt were
punished as murderers of the poor. The Council of Orleans, held in
549, forbids, in its 13th canon, taking the property of hospitals; the
15th canon of the same Council confirms the foundation of a hospital
at Lyons, a foundation due to the charity of King Childebert and
Queen Ultrogotha. The Council takes measures to secure the safety and
good management of the funds of that hospital; all violating these
regulations are anathematized as guilty of homicide of the poor.
We find, with respect to the poor, in very ancient Councils,
regulations of charity and police at the same time, quite similar
to measures now adopted in certain countries. For example, parishes
are enjoined to make a list of their poor, to maintain them, &c. The
Council of Tours, held in 566 or 567, by its 5th canon orders every
town to maintain its poor; and the priests in the country, as well as
the faithful, to maintain their own, in order to prevent mendicants
from wandering about the towns and provinces. With respect to lepers,
the 21st canon of the Council of Orleans, before quoted, prescribes
to bishops to take particular care of these unfortunate beings in all
dioceses, and to furnish them with food and clothing out of the Church
funds; the Council of Lyons, held in 583, in its 6th canon ordains
that the lepers of every town and territory shall be supported at the
expense of the Church under the care of the bishop. The Church had
a register of the poor, intended to regulate the distribution which
was made to them of a portion of the ecclesiastical property; it
was expressly forbidden to demand any thing from the poor for being
inscribed in this book of charity. The Council of Rheims, held in
874, in the second of its five articles forbids receiving any thing
from the poor thus inscribed, and that under pain of deposition. Zeal
for improving the condition of prisoners, a kind of charity which has
been so much displayed in modern times, is extremely ancient in the
Church. We must observe that in the sixth century there was already
an inspector of prisons; the archdeacon or the provost of the church
was obliged to visit prisoners on all Sundays; no class of criminals
was excluded from the benefit of this solicitude. The archdeacon was
bound to learn their wants, and to furnish them, by means of a person
recommended by the bishop, with food and all they stood in need of.
This was ordered by the 20th canon of the Council of Orleans, held
in 549. It would be too long to enumerate even a small part of the
ordinances which attest the zeal of the Church for the comfort and
consolation of the unfortunate; besides, it would be beyond my purpose,
for I have only undertaken to compare the spirit of Protestantism
with that of Catholicity with respect to works of charity. Yet, and as
the development of this question has naturally led me to state several
historical facts, I shall allude to the 141st canon of the Council of
Aix-la-Chapelle, enjoining upon prelates to found, according to the
example of their predecessors, a hospital to receive all the poor that
the revenues of the Church were able to support. Prebendaries were
bound to give to the hospital the tenth of their fruits; one of them
was appointed to receive the poor and strangers, and to watch over the
administration of the hospital. Such was the rule of prebendaries.
In the rule destined for the canonesses, the same Council ordains
that a hospital shall be established close to the house, and that it
shall itself contain a place reserved for poor women. Therefore, were
there seen, many centuries later, in various places, hospitals near
to prebendal churches. As we approach our own times, we everywhere
see innumerable institutions founded for charity. Ought we not to
admire the fruitfulness with which there arise, on all sides, as many
resources as are necessary to succour all the unfortunate? We cannot
calculate with precision what would have happened if Protestantism had
not appeared, but at least there is a conjecture authorized by reasons
of analogy. If the development of European civilization had been fully
carried out under the principle of religious unity, if the so-called
Reformation had not plunged Europe into continual revolutions and
reactions, there would certainly have been produced in the bosom of the
Catholic Church some general system of beneficence, which, organized
on a grand scale and in conformity with the new progress of society,
would have been able to prevent or effectually to remedy the sore of
pauperism, that cancer of modern nations. What was not to be expected
from all the intelligence and all the resources of Europe, working in
concert to obtain this great result? Unhappily, the unity of faith was
broken; authority, the proper centre, past, present, and future, was
rejected. From that time Europe, which was destined to become a nation
of brothers, was changed into a most fiercely-contested battle-field.
Hatred, engendered by religious differences, prevented any united
efforts for new arrangements; and the necessities which arose out of
the bosom of the social and political organization, which was for
Europe the fruit of so many centuries of labor, could not be provided
for. Bitter disputes, rebellions, and wars were acclimatized among us.
Let us remember that the Protestant schism not only prevented the
union of all the efforts of Europe to attain the end in question, but,
moreover, it has been the reason why Catholicism has not been able to
act in a regular manner even in those countries where it has preserved
its complete empire, or a decided predominance. In these countries it
has been compelled to hold itself in an attitude of defence; it has
been obliged, by the attacks of its enemies, to employ a great part of
its resources in defending its own existence: it is very probably for
this reason that the state of things in Europe is entirely different
from what it would have been on a contrary supposition; and perhaps
in the latter case there would not have existed the sad necessity of
exhausting itself in impotent efforts against an evil, which, according
to all appearances, and unless hitherto unknown means can be devised,
appears without remedy. I shall be told that the Church in this case
would have had an excessive authority over all that relates to charity,
and would have unjustly usurped the civil power. This is a mistake;
the Church has never claimed any thing that is not quite conformable
to her indelible character of protector of all the unfortunate. During
some centuries, it is true, we hardly hear any other voice or perceive
any other action than hers, in all that relates to beneficence;
but we must observe that the civil power during that time was very
far from possessing a regular and vigorous administration, capable
of doing without the aid of the Church. The latter was so far from
being actuated by any motives of ambition, that her double charge of
spiritual and temporal things imposed on her all sorts of sacrifices.
Three centuries have passed away since the event of which we now
lament the fatal results. Europe during this period has been submitted
in great part to the influence of Protestantism, but it has made no
progress thereby. I cannot believe that these three centuries would
have passed away under the exclusive influence of Catholicity, without
producing in the bosom of Europe a degree of charity sufficient
to raise the system of beneficence to the height demanded by the
difficulties and new interests of society. If we look at the different
systems which ferment in minds devoted to the study of this grave
question, we shall always find there _association_ under one form or
another. Now association has been at all times one of the favorite
principles of Catholicity, which, by proclaiming unity in faith,
proclaims it also in all things; but there is this difference, that
a great number of associations which are conceived and established
in our days are nothing but an agglomeration of interests; they want
unity of will and of aim, conditions which can be obtained only by
means of Christian charity. Yet these two conditions are indispensably
necessary to accomplish great works of beneficence, if any thing else
is required than a mere measure of public administration. As to the
administration itself, it is of little avail when it is not vigorous;
and unfortunately, in acquiring the necessary vigor, its action becomes
somewhat stiff and harsh. Therefore it is that Christian charity is
required, which, penetrating on all sides like a balsam, softens all
that is harsh in human action. I pity the unfortunate who in their
necessities find only the succor of the civil authorities, without the
intervention of Christian charity. In reports presented to the public,
philanthropy may and will exaggerate the care which it lavishes on the
unfortunate, but things will not be so in reality. The love of our
brethren, when it is not founded on religious principle, is as fruitful
in words as it is barren in deeds. The sight of the poor, of the sick,
of impotent old age, is too disagreeable for us long to bear it, unless
we are urged to it by very powerful motives. Even much less can we hope
that a vague feeling of humanity will suffice to make us encounter, as
we should, the constant cares required to console these unfortunate
beings. When Christian charity is wanting, a good administration will
no doubt enforce punctuality and exactitude--all that can be demanded
of men who receive a salary for their services: but one thing will be
wanting, which nothing can replace and money cannot buy, viz. love.
But it will be asked, have you no faith in philanthropy? No; for as M.
de Chateaubriand says, philanthropy is only the false coin of charity.
It was then perfectly reasonable that the Church should have a direct
influence in all branches of beneficence, for she knew better than any
others how to make Christian charity active, by applying it to all
kinds of necessities and miseries. Therein she did not gratify her
ambition, but found food for her zeal; she did not claim a privilege,
but exerted a right. In fine, if you will persevere in calling such a
desire ambition, you cannot deny at least that it was ambition of a
new kind. An ambition truly worthy of glory and reward, is that which
claims the right of succoring and consoling the unfortunate.[23]
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ON TOLERATION IN RELIGIOUS MATTERS.
The question of the improvement of manners, treated in the preceding
chapters, naturally leads me to another, sufficiently thorny in itself,
and rendered still more so by innumerable prejudices. I allude to
toleration in matters of religion. The word Catholicity, to certain
persons, is the synonyme of intolerance; and the confusion of ideas
on this point has become such, that no more laborious task can be
undertaken than to clear them up. It is only necessary to pronounce the
word intolerance, to raise in the minds of some people all sorts of
black and horrible ideas. Legislation, institutions, and men of past
times, all are condemned without appeal, the moment there is seen the
slightest appearance of intolerance. More than one cause contributes
to this universal prejudice. Yet, if called upon to point out the
principal one, we would repeat the profound maxim of Cato, who, when
accused at the age of eighty-six of certain offences of his past life,
committed at times long gone by, said, "It is difficult to render an
account of one's own conduct to men belonging to an age different from
that in which one has lived." There are some things of which one cannot
accurately judge without, not only a knowledge of them, but also a
complete appreciation of the times when they occurred. How many men are
capable of attaining to this? There are few who are able to succeed
in freeing their minds from the influence of the atmosphere which
surrounds them; but there are fewer still who can do the same with
their hearts. The age in which we live is precisely the reverse of the
ages of intolerance; and this is the first difficulty which meets us in
discussing questions of this kind. The prejudice and bad faith of some
who have applied themselves to this subject, have contributed also in
a considerable degree to erroneous opinions. There is nothing in the
world which cannot be undervalued by showing only one side of it; for
thus considered, all things are false, or rather are not themselves.
All bodies have three dimensions; only to look at one is not to form an
idea of the body itself, but of a quantity very different from it. Take
any institution, the most just and useful that can be imagined, then
all the inconveniences and evils which it has caused, taking care to
bring together into a few pages what in reality was spread over a great
many ages; then your history will be disgusting, hideous, and worthy
of execration. Let a partisan of democracy describe to you in a narrow
compass, and by means of historical facts, all the inconveniences and
evils of monarchy, the vices and the crimes of kings; how will monarchy
then appear to you? But let a partisan of monarchy paint to you, in his
turn, by the same method of historical facts, democracy and demagogues;
and what will you then think of democracy? Assemble in one picture all
the evils occasioned to nations by a high degree of development of the
social state; civilization and refinement will then appear detestable.
By seeking and selecting in the annals of the human mind certain
traits, the history of science may be made the history of folly, and
even of crime. By heaping together the fatal accidents that have
occurred to masters of the healing art, their beneficent profession may
be represented as a career of homicide. In a word, every thing may be
falsified by proceeding in this way. God himself would appear to us as
a monster of cruelty and tyranny, if, taking away his goodness, wisdom,
and justice, we only attended to the evils which we see in a world
created by his power and governed by his providence.
Having laid down these principles, let us apply them. The spirit of the
age, particular circumstances, and an order of things quite different
from ours, are all forgotten, and the history of the religious
intolerance of Catholics is composed by taking care to condense into a
few pages, and paint in the blackest colours, the severity of Ferdinand
and Isabella, of Philip II., of Mary of England, of Louis XIV., and
every thing of the kind that occurred during three centuries. The
reader who receives, almost at the same moment, the impression of
events which occurred during a period of three hundred years,--the
reader, accustomed to live in society where prisons are being converted
into houses of recreation, and where the punishment of death is
vigorously opposed, can he behold the appearance of darksome dungeons,
the instruments of punishment, the _san-benitos_ and scaffolds, without
being deeply moved? He will bewail the unfortunate lot of those who
perish; he will be indignant against the authors of what he calls
horrible atrocities. Nothing has been said to this candid reader of the
principles and conduct of Protestants at the same time; he has not been
reminded of the cruelty of Henry VIII. and of Elizabeth of England.
Thus all his hatred is directed against Catholics, and he is accustomed
to regard Catholicity as a religion of tyranny and blood. But will a
judgment thus formed be just? Will this be a sentence passed with a
full knowledge of the cause? What would impartiality direct us to do,
if we met with a dark picture, painted in the way we have described,
of monarchy, democracy, or civilization, of science, or of the healing
art? What we should do, or rather what we ought to do, is to extend
our view further, to examine the subject in its different phases; to
inquire into its good as well as its evil: this would be to look upon
these evils as they really are, that is, spread at great distances over
the course of centuries; this would weaken the impression they had
made upon us: in a word, we should thus be just, we should take the
balance in hand to weigh the good and evil, to compare the one with
the other, as we ought always to do when we have duly to appreciate
things in the history of humanity. In the case in question, we should
act in the same way, in order to provide against the error into which
we may be led by the false statements and exaggerations of certain men,
whose evident intention it has been to falsify facts by representing
only one side of them. The Inquisition no longer exists, and assuredly
there is no probability of its being re-established; the severe laws in
force on this matter in former times no longer exist; they are either
abrogated or they are fallen into desuetude: no one, therefore, has an
interest in representing this institution in a false point of view. It
may be imagined that some men had an interest in this while they were
engaged in destroying their ancient laws, but that once attained, the
Inquisition and its laws are become a historical fact, which ought to
be examined here with attention and impartiality. We have here two
questions, that of principle, and that of its application; in other
words, that of intolerance, and that of the manner of showing it.
We must not confound these two things, which, although very closely
connected, are very different. I shall begin with the first.
The principle of universal toleration is now proclaimed, and all kind
of intolerance is condemned without appeal. But who takes care to
examine the real meaning of these words? who undertakes to analyze
the ideas which they contain by the light of reason, and explain them
by means of history and experience? Very few. They are pronounced
mechanically; they are constantly employed to establish propositions of
the highest importance, without even the suspicion that they contain
ideas, the right or wrong comprehension and application of which is
every thing for the preservation of society. Few persons consider
that these words include questions as profound as they are delicate,
and the whole of a large portion of history; very few observe that,
according to one solution given to the problem of toleration, all the
past is condemned, and all the present overturned; nothing is left
thereby to build on for the future but a moving bed of sand. Certainly,
the most convenient way in such a case is, to adopt and employ these
words such as we already find them in circulation, in the same way as
we take and circulate the current coin, without considering whether
it be composed of alloy or not. But what is the most convenient is
not always the most useful; and, as when receiving coins of value,
we carefully examine them, so we ought to weigh words the meaning of
which is of such paramount importance. Toleration--what is the meaning
of this word? It means, properly speaking, the patience with which
we suffer a thing which we judge to be bad, but which we think it
desirable not to punish. Thus, some kinds of scandals are tolerated;
prostitutes are tolerated; such and such abuses are tolerated; so that
the idea of toleration is always accompanied by the idea of evil.
When toleration is exercised in the order of ideas, it always supposes
a misunderstanding, or error. No one will say that he tolerates the
truth. We have an observation to make here. The phrase _to tolerate
opinions_ is commonly used: now, opinion is very different from error.
At first sight, the difficulty appears great; but if we examine the
thing well, we shall be able to explain it. When we say that we
tolerate an opinion, we always mean an opinion contrary to our own. In
this case, the opinion of another is, according to us, an error; for
it is impossible to have an opinion on any point whatever--that is, to
think that a thing is or is not, is in one way or in another--without
thinking at the same time that those who judge otherwise are deceived.
If our opinion is only an opinion--that is, if our judgment, although
based on reasons which appear to us to be good, has not attained to a
degree of complete certainty--our judgment of another will be only a
mere opinion; but if our conviction has become completely established
and confirmed--that is, if it has attained to certainty--we shall be
sure that those who form a judgment opposed to ours are deceived.
Thence it follows, that the word toleration, applied to opinions,
always means the toleration of an error. He who says, yes, thinks no
is false; and he who says, no, thinks yes is a mistake. This is only
an application of the well-known principle, _that it is impossible
for the same thing to be and not to be at the same time_. But, we
shall be asked, What do you mean when you use these words, 'to respect
opinions?' is it always understood that we respect errors? No; for
these words can have two different and equally reasonable meanings.
The first is founded on the feebleness of the conviction of the person
from whom the respect comes. When on any particular point we have only
just formed an opinion, it is understood that we have not reached
certainty; consequently, we know that there are reasons on the other
side. In this sense, we may well say that we respect the opinions of
others: we express thereby our conviction that it is possible that we
are deceived--that it is possible the truth is not on our side. In the
second meaning, to respect opinions is to respect, sometimes those who
profess them, sometimes their good faith, sometimes their intentions.
Thus, when we say that we respect prejudices, it is clear that we do
not mean a real respect professed in this place. We see thus, that the
expression 'to respect the opinions of others' has a very different
meaning, according as the person from whom the respect comes has or has
not assured convictions in the contrary sense.
In order the better to understand what toleration is, what its origin
and its effects, it is necessary, before we examine it in society,
to reduce it to its simplest element. Let us analyze toleration
considered in the individual. An individual is called tolerant, when
he is habitually in a disposition of mind to bear without irritation
or disturbance opinions contrary to his own. This toleration will
bear different names, according to the different matters to which it
relates. In religious matters, tolerance as well as intolerance may be
found in those who have religion as well as in those who have none; so
that neither of these situations, with respect to religion, necessarily
implies the one or the other. Some people imagine that tolerance is
peculiar to the incredulous, and intolerance to the religious; but they
are mistaken. Who is more tolerant than St. Francis de Sales? who more
intolerant than Voltaire?
Tolerance in religious men--that tolerance which does not come from
want of faith, and which is not inconsistent with an ardent zeal
for the preservation and propagation of the faith--is born of two
principles, charity and humility. Charity, which makes us love all
men, even our greatest enemies; charity, which inspires us with
compassion for their faults and errors, and obliges us to regard them
as brothers, to employ all the means in our power to withdraw them from
being fatally deceived; charity, which forbids us ever to regard them
as deprived of the hope of salvation as long as they live. Rousseau
has said, that "it is impossible to live in peace with those that
one believes to be damned." We do not, and we cannot, believe in the
condemnation of any man as long as he lives; however great may be his
iniquity, the mercy of God and the value of the blood of Jesus Christ
are still greater. We are so far from thinking with the philosopher
of Geneva, "that to love such people would be to hate God," that no
one could maintain such a doctrine among us without ceasing to belong
to our faith. The other source of tolerance is Christian humility:
humility, which inspires us with a profound sense of our weakness,
and makes us consider all that we have as given by God; humility,
which makes us consider our advantages over our neighbor as so many
more powerful motives for acknowledging the liberality of Providence;
humility, which, placing before our eyes the spectacle of humanity
in its proper light, makes us regard ourselves and all others as
members of the great family of the human race, fallen from its ancient
dignity by the sin of our first parent; humility, which shows us the
perverse inclinations of our hearts, the darkness of our minds, and the
claims which man has to pity and indulgence in his faults and errors;
humility, that virtue sublime even in its abasement. "If humility is so
pleasing to God," is the admirable observation of St. Theresa, "it is
because it is the truth." This is the virtue which renders us indulgent
towards all men, by never allowing us to forget that we ourselves,
perhaps, more than any others, have need of indulgence.
Yet for a man to be tolerant, in the full extent of the word, it is
not enough for him to be humble and charitable; this is a truth which
experience teaches and reason explains to us. In order perfectly to
clear up a point, the obscurity of which produces the confusion which
almost always prevails in these questions, let us make a comparison
between two men equally religious, whose principles are the same,
but whose conduct is very different. Let us suppose two priests both
distinguished for learning and eminent virtue. The one has passed
his life in retirement, surrounded by pious persons, and having no
intercourse with any but Catholics: the other has been a missionary
in countries where different religions are established, he has been
obliged to live and converse with men of creeds different from his
own; he has been under the necessity of witnessing the establishment
of temples of a false religion close to those of the true one. The
principles of Christian charity will be the same with both these
priests; both will look upon faith as a gift of God, which he has
received, and must preserve; their conduct, however, will be very
different, if they meet with a man of a faith different from their
own, or of none at all. The first, who, never having had intercourse
with any but the faithful, has always heard religion spoken of with
respect, will be horrified, will be indignant, at the first word he
shall hear against the faith or ceremonies of the Church; it will be
impossible, or nearly so, for him to remain calm during a conversation
or discussion on the question: the second, accustomed to such things,
to hear his faith impugned, to dispute with men of creeds opposed to
his own, will remain tranquil; he will engage in a discussion with
coolness, if it be necessary; he will skilfully avoid one, if prudence
shall advise such a course. Whence comes this difference? It is not
difficult to discover. The second of these priests, by intercourse
with men, by experience, by contradiction, has obtained a clear notion
of the real condition of men's minds in the world; he is aware of the
fatal combination of circumstances which has led a great number of
unfortunate persons into error, and keeps them there; he knows how,
in some measure, to put himself in their place; and the more lively
is his sense of the benefit conferred upon him by Providence, the
more mild and indulgent he is towards others. The other may be as
virtuous, as charitable, and as humble as you please; but how can you
expect of him that he will not be deeply moved, and give utterance
to his indignation, the first time that he hears that denied which
he has always believed with the most lively faith? He has up to this
time met with no opposition in the world, but a few arguments in
books. Certainly he was not ignorant that there existed heretics and
unbelievers, but he has not frequently met with them, he has not heard
them state their hundred different systems, and he has not witnessed
the erroneous creeds of men of all sorts, of different characters, and
the most varied minds; the lively susceptibility of his mind, which
has never met with resistance, has not been blunted; for this reason,
although endowed with the same virtues, and, if you will, with the same
knowledge as the other, he has not acquired that penetration, that
vivacity, so to speak, with which a man of practised intellect enters
into the minds of those with whom he has to deal, discerns the reasons,
seizes the motives which blind them and hinder them from obtaining a
knowledge of the truth.
Thus tolerance, in a person who is religious, supposes a certain
degree of gentleness of mind, the fruit of intercourse with men, and
the habits thereby engendered; yet this quality is consistent with
the deepest conviction, and the purest and most ardent zeal for the
propagation of the truth. In the moral, as in the physical world,
friction polishes, use wears away, and nothing can remain for a long
time in an attitude of violence. A man will be indignant, once, twice,
a hundred times, when he hears his manner of thinking attacked; but it
is impossible for him to remain so always; he will, in the end, become
accustomed to opposition; he will, by habit, bear it calmly. However
sacred may be his articles of belief, he will content himself with
defending and putting them forward at convenient opportunities; in all
other cases, he will keep them in the bottom of his soul, as a treasure
which he is desirous to preserve from any thing that may injure them.
Tolerance, then, does not suppose any new principles in a man, but
rather a quality acquired by practice; a disposition of mind, into
which a man finds himself insensibly led; a habit of patience, formed
in him by constantly having to bear with what he disapproves of.
Now, if we consider tolerance in men who are not religious, we shall
observe that there are two ways of being irreligious. There are men who
not only have no religion, but who have an animosity against it, either
on account of some fatal error they entertain, or because they find it
an obstacle to their designs. These men are extremely intolerant; and
their intolerance is the worst of all, because it is not accompanied
by any moral principle which can restrain it. A man thus circumstanced
feels himself, as it were, continually at war with himself and the
human race; with himself, because he must stifle the cries of his own
conscience: with the human race, because all protest against the mad
doctrine that pretends to banish the worship of God from the earth.
Therefore we find among men of this kind much rancor and spleen;
therefore their words are full of gall; therefore they have constantly
recourse to raillery, insult, and calumny.
But there is another class of men who, although devoid of religion,
are not strongly prejudiced against the faith. They live in a kind of
skepticism, into which the reading of bad books, or the observations
of a superficial and frivolous philosophy, have led them; they are
not attached to religion, but they are not its enemies. Many of them
acknowledge the importance of religion for the good of society, and
some of them even feel within themselves a certain desire to return
to the faith; in their moments of recollection and meditation, they
remember with pleasure the days when they offered to God an obedient
spirit and a pure heart; and at the sight of the rapid course of life,
they perhaps love to cherish the hope of becoming reconciled with the
God of their fathers, before they descend into the grave. These men
are tolerant; but, if carefully examined, their tolerance is not a
principle or a virtue, it is only a necessity resulting from their
position. It is difficult to be indignant at the opinions of others,
when we have none of our own--when, consequently, we do not come
into collision with any. It is difficult to be violently opposed to
religion, when we consider it as a thing necessary for the welfare of
society; there can be no hatred or rancor towards faith in a soul which
desires its mercy, and which, perhaps, fixes its eyes upon it as the
last beam of hope amid the terrors of an alarming future. Tolerance, in
this case, is nothing strange; it is natural and necessary. Intolerance
would be inconceivable and extravagant, and could arise only from a bad
heart.
In applying these remarks to society instead of individuals, it must
be observed that tolerance, as well as intolerance, may be considered
in government, or in society. It sometimes happens that government and
society are not agreed; while the former maintains one principle, the
reverse may prevail in the latter. As governments are composed of a
limited number of individuals, all that has been said of tolerance,
considered individually, may be applied to them. Let us not forget,
however, that men placed in authority are not free to give themselves
up without limit to the impulses of their own opinions or feelings;
they are often forced to immolate their own feelings on the altar of
public opinion. They may, owing to peculiar circumstances, oppose or
impede that opinion for a time; but it will soon stop them, and force
them to change their course.
As sooner or later government becomes the expression of the ideas
and feelings of society, we shall content ourselves with considering
tolerance in the latter; we shall observe that society, with respect to
tolerance, follows the same path as individuals. This is with it not
the effect of a principle, but of a habit. Men of different creeds, who
live together for a long time in the same society, end by tolerating
each other; they are led to this by growing weary of collision with
each other, and by the wish for a kind of life more quiet and peaceful.
But when men, thus divided in creed, find themselves face to face for
the first time, a shock more or less rude is the inevitable result. The
causes of this phenomenon are to be found in human nature itself; it is
one of those necessities against which we struggle in vain.
Some modern philosophers have imagined that society is indebted to them
for the spirit of toleration which prevails there; they have not seen
that it is much rather a fact slowly brought about by the force of
circumstances, than it is the fruit of their doctrines. Indeed, what
have they said that is new? They have recommended universal fraternity;
but this has always been one of the doctrines of Christianity. They
have exhorted men of all the different religions to live in peace
together; but before they had opened their mouths to tell them this,
men began to adopt this course in many countries of Europe; for,
unhappily, religions in many countries were so numerous and different,
that none of them could pretend to exclusive dominion. It is true
that some infidel, philosophers have a claim, and a deplorable one,
in support of their pretensions with respect to the development of
toleration; it is, that, by their efforts to disseminate infidelity
and skepticism, they have succeeded in making general, in nations and
governments, that false toleration which has nothing virtuous, but is
indifference with respect to all religions. Indeed, why is tolerance
so general in our age? or, rather, in what does our tolerance consist?
If you observe well, you will find that it is nothing but the result
of a social condition perfectly similar to that of the individual
who has no creed, but who does not hate creeds, because he considers
them as conducive to the public good, and cherishes a vague hope of
one day finding a last asylum therein. All that is good in this is
in no degree owing to the infidel philosophers, but may rather be
said to be a protest against them. Indeed, when they could not obtain
the supreme command, they lavished calumnies and sarcasms on all
that is most sacred in heaven and on earth; and, when they did raise
themselves to power, they overturned with indescribable fury all
that existed, and destroyed millions of victims in exile or on the
scaffolds. The multitude of religions,--infidelity, indifference, the
improvement of manners, the lassitude produced by wars,--industrial
and commercial organization, which every day becomes more powerful in
society,--communication rendered more frequent among men by means of
travelling,--the diffusion of ideas by the press;--such are the causes
which have produced in Europe that universal tolerance which has taken
possession of all, and has been established in fact when it could not
by law. These causes, as it is easy to observe, are of different kinds;
no doctrine can pretend to an exclusive influence; they are the result
of a thousand different influences, which act simultaneously on the
development of civilization.[24]
CHAPTER XXXV.
ON THE RIGHT OF COERCION IN GENERAL.
How much, during the last century, was said against intolerance! A
philosophy less superficial than that which then prevailed would have
reflected a little more on a fact which may be appreciated in different
ways, but the existence of which cannot be denied. In Greece, Socrates
died drinking hemlock. Rome, whose tolerance has been so much vaunted,
tolerated, indeed, foreign gods; but these were only foreign in name,
since they formed a part of that system of pantheism which was the
foundation of the Roman religion; gods, who, in order to be declared
gods of Rome, only needed the mere formality, as it were, of receiving
the name of citizens. But Rome did not admit the gods of Egypt any
more than the Jewish or Christian religion. She had, no doubt, many
false ideas with respect to these religions; but she was sufficiently
acquainted with them to know that they were essentially different
from her own. The history of the Pagan emperors is the history of
the persecution of the Church; as soon as they became Christians, a
system of penal legislation was commenced against those who differed
from the religion of the state. In subsequent centuries, intolerance
continued under various forms; it has been perpetuated down to our
times, and we are not so free from it as some would wish to make us
believe. The emancipation of Catholics in England is but of recent
date; the violent disputes of the Prussian government with the Pope,
on the subject of certain arbitrary acts of that government against
the Catholic religion, are of yesterday; the question of Argau, in
Switzerland, is still pending; and the persecution of Catholicity by
the Russian government is pursued in as scandalous a manner as at any
former period. Thus it is with religious sects. As to the toleration of
the _humane_ philosophers of the 18th century, it was exemplified in
Robespierre.
Every government professing a religion is more or less intolerant
towards those which it does not profess; and this intolerance is
diminished or destroyed, only when the professors of the obnoxious
religions are either feared on account of their great power, or
despised on account of their weakness. Apply to all times and countries
the rule which we have just laid down, you will everywhere find it
exact; it is an abridgment of the history of governments in their
relations with religions. The Protestant government of England has
always been intolerant toward Catholics; and it will continue to be so,
more or less, according to circumstances. The governments of Russia
and Prussia will continue to act as they have done up to this time,
with the exception of modifications required by difference of times;
in the same way, in countries where Catholicity prevails, the exercise
of the Protestant worship will always be more or less interfered with.
I shall be told of the instance of France as a proof of the contrary;
in that country, where the immense majority profess the Catholic
religion, other worships are allowed, without any disposition on the
part of the state to disturb them. This toleration will perhaps be
attributed to public opinion; it comes, I think, from this, that no
fixed principle prevails there in the government: all the policy of
France, internal and external, is a constant compromise to get out
of difficulties in the best possible way. This is shown by facts;
it appears from the well-known opinions of the small number of men
who, for some years, have ruled the destinies of France. It has been
attempted to establish in principle universal toleration, and refuse
to government the right of violating consciences in religious matters;
nevertheless, in spite of all that has been said, philosophers have
not been able to make a very clear exposition of their principle,
still less have they been able to procure its general adoption as a
system in the government of states. In order to show that the thing is
not quite so simple as has been supposed, I will beg leave to ask a
few questions of these _soi-disant_ philosophers. If a religion which
required human sacrifices were established in your country, would you
tolerate it? No. And why? Because we cannot tolerate such a crime.
But then you will be intolerant; you will violate the consciences of
others, by proscribing, as a crime, what in their eyes is a homage to
the Divinity. Thus thought many nations of old, and so think some now.
By what right do you make your conscience prevail over theirs?--It
matters not; we shall be intolerant, but our intolerance will be for
the good of humanity.--I applaud your conduct; but you cannot deny that
it is a case in which intolerance with respect to a religion appears to
you a right and a duty. Still further: if you proscribe the exercise
of this atrocious worship, would you allow the doctrine to be taught
which preaches as holy and salutary the practice of human sacrifices?
No; for that would be permitting the teaching of murder. Very well,
but you must acknowledge that this is a doctrine with respect to
which you have a right to be, and are obliged to be, intolerant. Let
us pursue our subject. You are aware, no doubt, of the sacrifices
offered in antiquity to the goddess of Love, and the infamous worship
which was paid to her in the temples of Babylon and Corinth. If such
a worship reappeared among you, would you tolerate it? No; for it is
contrary to the sacred laws of modesty. Would you allow the doctrine
on which it was based to be taught? No; for the same reason. This,
then, is another case in which you believe you have the right and the
obligation to violate the consciences of others; and the only reason
you can assign for it is, that you are compelled to do so by your own
conscience. Moreover, suppose that some men, over-excited by reading
the Bible, desired to establish a new Christianity, in imitation of
Mathew of Haarlem or John of Leyden; suppose that these sectaries began
to propagate their doctrines, to assemble together in bodies, and that
their fanatical declamation seduced a portion of the people, would you
tolerate this new religion? No; for these men might renew the bloody
scenes of Germany in the 16th century, when, in the name of God, and
to fulfil, as they said, the order of the Most High, the Anabaptists
invaded all property, destroyed all existing power, and spread
everywhere desolation and death. This would be to act with as much
justice as prudence; but you cannot deny that you would thereby commit
an act of intolerance. What, then, becomes of universal toleration,
that principle so evident, so predominant, if you are compelled at
every step to limit, and I will say more, to lay it aside, and act in a
way diametrically opposite to it? You will say that the security of the
state, the good order of society, and public morality compel you to act
in this way. But then, what sort of a principle is it that, in certain
cases, is in opposition to the interests of morality and to society,
and to the safety of the state? Do you think that the men against whom
you declaim did not intend also to protect these interests, by acting
with that intolerance which is so revolting to you?
It has been acknowledged at all times and in all countries, as an
incontestable principle, that the public authority has, in certain
cases, the right of prohibiting certain acts, in violation of the
consciences of individuals who claim the right of performing them.
If the constant testimony of history were not enough, at least the
dialogue which we have just held ought to convince us of this truth;
we have seen that the most ardent advocates of tolerance may well be
compelled, in certain cases, to be intolerant. They would be obliged to
be so in the name of humanity, of modesty, of public order; universal
toleration, then, with respect to doctrines and religions--that
toleration which is proclaimed as the duty of every government--is an
error; it is a theory which cannot be put in practice. We have clearly
shown that intolerance has always been, and still is, a principle
recognised by all governments, and the application of which, more or
less indulgent or severe, depends on circumstances, and above all, on
the particular point of view in which the government considers things.
A great question of right now presents itself--a question which seems,
at first sight, to require to be solved by condemning all intolerance,
both with respect to doctrines and acts; but which, when thoroughly
examined, leads to a very different result. If we grant that the
mind is incapable of completely removing the difficulty by means of
direct reasoning, it is not the less certain that indirect means, and
the reasoning called _ad absurdum_, are here sufficient to show us
the truth, at least as far as it is necessary for us to know it as
a guide for human prudence, always uncertain. The question is this:
"By what right do you hinder a man from professing a doctrine, and
acting in conformity with it, if he is convinced that it is true, and
that he only fulfils his duty, or exercises a right, by acting as
it prescribes?" In order to prevent the prohibition being vain and
ridiculous, there must be a penalty attached to it; now, if you inflict
this penalty, you punish a man who, according to his own conscience,
is innocent. Punishment by the hand of justice supposes culpability;
and no one is culpable without being so first in his conscience.
Culpability has its root in the conscience; and we cannot be
responsible for the violation of a law, unless that law has addressed
us through our conscience. If our conscience tells us that an action is
bad, we cannot perform it, whatever may be the injunctions of the law
which prescribes it; on the contrary, if conscience tells us that an
action is a duty, we cannot omit it, whatever may be the prohibitions
of the law. This is, in a few words, and in all its force, the whole
argument that can be alleged against intolerance in regard to doctrines
and facts emanating from them. Let us now see what is the real value of
these observations, apparently so conclusive.
It is apparent that the admission of this principle would render
impossible the punishment of any political crime. Brutus, when
plunging his dagger into the heart of Cæsar; Jacques Clement, when he
assassinated Henry III., acted, no doubt, under the influence of an
excitement of mind, which made them view their attempts as deeds of
heroism; and yet, if they had both been brought before a tribunal,
would you have thought them entitled to impunity--the one on account
of his love of country, and the other on account of his zeal for
religion? Most political crimes are committed under a conviction of
doing well; and I do not speak merely of those times of trouble, when
men of parties the most opposed are fully persuaded that they have
right on their side. Conspiracies contrived against governments in
times of peace are generally the work of some individuals who look
upon them as illegal and tyrannical; when working to overthrow them,
they are acting in conformity with their own principles. Judges punish
them justly when they inflict on them the penalties appointed by
legislators; and yet, neither legislators when they decree the penalty,
nor the judges when they inflict it, are, or can be, ignorant of the
condition of mind of the delinquent who has violated the law. It may be
said, that compassion and indulgence with respect to political crimes
increase every day, for these reasons. I shall reply, that if we lay
down the principle that human justice has not the right to punish,
when the delinquent acts according to his conviction, we must not
only mitigate our punishments, but even abolish them. In this case,
capital punishment would be a real murder, a fine a robbery, and
other penalties so many acts of violence. I shall remark in passing,
that it is not true that severity towards political crimes diminishes
as much as it is said to do; the history of Europe of late years
affords us some proofs to the contrary. We do not now see those cruel
punishments which were in use at other times; but that is not owing
to the conscience of the criminal being considered by the judge, but
to the improvement of manners, which, being everywhere diffused, has
necessarily influenced penal legislation. It is extraordinary that so
much severity has been preserved in laws relating to political crimes,
when so great a number of legislators among the different nations of
Europe knew well that they themselves, at other times, had committed
the same crimes. And there is no doubt that more than one man, in the
discussion of certain penal laws, has inclined to indulgence, from the
presentiment that these very laws might one day apply to himself. The
impunity of political crimes would bring about the subversion of social
order, by rendering all government impossible. Without dwelling longer
on the fatal results which this doctrine would have, let us observe,
that the benefit of impunity in favor of the illusions of conscience
would not be due to political crimes alone, but would be applicable
also to those of an ordinary kind. Offences against property are crimes
of this nature; and yet we know that many at former periods regarded,
and that unfortunately some still regard, property as a usurpation and
an injustice. Offences against the sanctity of marriage are ordinarily
considered crimes; and yet have there not been sects in whose sight
marriage was unlawful, and others who have desired, and still
desire, a community of women? The sacred laws of modesty and respect
for innocence have alike been regarded by some sects as an unjust
infringement of the liberty of man; to violate these laws, therefore,
was a meritorious action. At the time when the mistaken ideas and blind
fanaticism of the men who professed these principles were undoubted,
would any one have been found to deny the justice of the chastisement
which was inflicted on them when, in pursuance of their doctrines, they
committed a crime, or even when they had the audacity to diffuse their
fatal maxims in society?
If it were unjust to punish the criminal for acting according to his
conscience, all imaginable crimes would be permitted to the atheist,
the fatalist, the disciple of the doctrine of private interest; for by
destroying, as they do, the basis of all morality, these men do not
act against their consciences; they have none. If such an argument
were to hold good, how often would we have reason to charge tribunals
with injustice, when they inflict any punishment on men of this class.
By what right, we would say to magistrates, do you punish this man,
who, not admitting the existence of God, does not acknowledge himself
culpable in his own eyes, or consequently in yours? You have made a
law, by virtue of which you punish him; but this law has no power over
the conscience of this man, for you are his equals; and he does not
acknowledge the existence of any superior, to give you the power of
controlling his liberty. By what right do you punish another, who is
convinced that all his actions are the effect of necessary causes,
that free-will is a chimera, and who, in the action which you charge
on him as a crime, believes that he had no more power of restraining
himself than the wild beast, when he throws himself upon the prey
before his eyes, or upon any other animal that excites his fury? With
what justice do you punish him, who is persuaded that all morality is
a lie; that there is no other principle than individual interest; that
good and evil are nothing but this interest, well or ill understood?
If you make him undergo any punishment, it will not be because he is
culpable in his own conscience; you will punish him for being deceived
in his calculation, for having ill-understood the probable result of
the action which he was about to commit. Such are the necessary and
inevitable deductions from the doctrine, which refuses to the public
authority the power of punishing crimes committed in consequence of an
error of the mind.
But I shall be told that the right of punishment only extends to
actions, and not to doctrines; that actions ought to be subject to the
law, but that doctrines are entitled to unbounded liberty. Do you mean
doctrines shut up in the mind and not outwardly manifested? It is clear
that not only the right, but also the possibility of punishing them is
wanting, for God alone can tell the secrets of the heart of man. If
avowed doctrines are meant, then the principle is false; and we have
just shown that those who maintain it in theory, find it impossible to
reduce it to practice. In fine, we shall be told that, however absurd
in its results may be the doctrine which we have been combating, it
is still impossible to justify the punishment of an action which was
ordered or authorized by the conscience of the man who committed it.
How is this difficulty to be solved? How is this great obstacle to be
removed? Is it lawful in any case to treat as culpable the man who is
not so at the tribunal of his own conscience?
Although this question seems entirely to turn upon some point on which
men of all opinions are agreed, there is nevertheless a wide difference
in this respect between Catholics on one side and unbelievers and
Protestants on the other. The first lay it down as an incontestable
principle, _that there are errors of the understanding which are
faults_; the others, on the contrary, think, _that all errors of the
understanding are innocent_. The first consider error in regard to
great moral and religious truths, as one of the gravest offences which
man can commit against God; their opponents look upon errors of this
kind with great indulgence, and they ought to do so in order to be
consistent. Catholics admit the possibility of invincible ignorance
with respect to some very important truths; but with them this
possibility is limited to certain circumstances, out of which they
declare man to be culpable: their opponents constantly extol liberty of
thought, without any other restriction than that imposed by the taste
of each one in particular; they constantly affirm that man is free to
hold the opinions which he thinks proper; they have gone so far as to
persuade their followers that there are no culpable errors or opinions,
that man is not obliged to search into the secret recesses of his soul,
to make sure that there are no secret causes which induce him to reject
the truth; they have in the end monstrously confounded physical with
moral liberty of thought; they have banished from opinions the ideas of
lawful and unlawful, and have given men to understand that such ideas
are not applicable to thought. That is to say, in the order of ideas,
they have confounded right with fact, declaring, in this respect, the
uselessness and incompetency of all laws, divine and human. Senseless
men! as if it were possible for that which is most noble and elevated
in human nature to be exempt from all rule; as if it were possible for
the element which makes man the king of the creation, to be exempted
from concurring in the ineffable harmony of all parts of the universe
with themselves and with God; as if this harmony could exist, or even
be conceived in man, unless it were declared to be the first of human
obligations to adhere constantly to truth.
This is one of the profound reasons which justify the Catholic Church,
when she considers the sin of heresy as one of the greatest that man
can commit. You, who smile, with pity and contempt at these words,
_the sin of heresy_; you, who consider this doctrine as the invention
of priests to rule over consciences, by retrenching the liberty of
thought; by what right do you claim the power of condemning heresies
which are opposed to your orthodoxy? By what right do you condemn those
societies that profess opinions hostile to property, public order,
and the existence of authority? If the thought of man is free, if you
cannot attempt to restrain it without violating sacred rights, if it
is an absurdity and a contradiction to wish to oblige a man to act
against his conscience, or disobey its dictates--why do you interfere
with those men who desire to destroy the existing state of society?
Why baffle, why oppose those dark conspiracies, which, from time to
time, send one of their members to assassinate a king? You invoke your
convictions to declare unjust and cruel the intolerance which has been
practised at certain times against your enemies; but you must remember
that such societies and such men can also invoke their convictions. You
say that the doctrines of the Church are human inventions; they say
that the doctrines prevailing in society are also human inventions. You
say that the ancient social order was a monopoly; they say the present
social order is a monopoly. In your eyes, the ancient authorities
were tyrannical; in theirs the present ones are so. You pretended to
destroy what existed, in order to found new institutions conducive to
the good of humanity; to-day these men hold the same language. You
have proclaimed holy the war which was waged against ancient power;
they proclaim holy the war against present power. When you availed
yourselves of the means which offered themselves, you pretended that
necessity rendered them legitimate; they declare to be not less
legitimate the only means which they possess, that of combinations, of
preparing for their opportunity, and of hastening it by assassinating
great men. You have pretended to make all opinions respected, even
atheism, and you have taught that nobody has a right to prevent your
acting in conformity with your principles; but the fanatics in question
have also their horrible principles and their dreadful convictions.
Do you require a proof of this? See them amid the gayety of public
celebrations, glide, pale and gloomy, among the joyful multitude,
choose the fitting moment to cast desolation over a royal family, and
cover a nation with mourning, while they accumulate on their own heads
the public execration, certain, moreover, of finishing their lives
on the scaffold. But our adversaries will say, such convictions are
inexcusable. Yours are so also. All the difference is, that you have
contrived your ambitious and fatal systems amid ease and pleasure,
perhaps in opulence, and under the shadow of power, while they have
conceived their abominable doctrines in the bosom of obscurity,
poverty, misery, and despair.
Indeed, the inconsistency of some men is shocking to the last degree.
To ridicule all religions, to decry the spirituality and immortality
of the soul, and the existence of God, to overturn all morality, and
sap its deepest foundations, all this they have considered excusable,
and we may even say, worthy of praise; moreover, the writers who have
undertaken this fatal task are worthy of apotheosis; men must expel
the Divinity from his temples to place there the names and busts of
the leaders of their schools; under the vaults of splendid basilicas,
where repose the ashes of Christians awaiting the resurrection, they
must raise the mausoleum of Voltaire and Rousseau, in order that future
generations, when they descend into their dark and silent abodes, may
receive the inspirations of their genius. But have they, then, a right
to complain that property, and domestic life, and social order are
attacked? Property is sacred; but is it more sacred than God? However
great may be the importance of the truths relating to the family and
to society, are they of a superior order to the eternal principles of
morality, or rather, are they any thing more than the application of
these principles?
But let us resume the thread of our discourse. When the principle,
that there are culpable errors, is once established (a principle which
in practice, if not in theory, must be received by all men, but which
Catholicity alone can logically maintain in theory), it is easy to see
the reason of the punishments which human power decrees against the
propagation and teaching of certain doctrines; and we can understand
why it is legitimate to punish, without considering the conviction
that animated the culprit, the actions which are the result of his
doctrines. The law shows that this mortal error has existed, or can
exist; but in this case it declares the error itself to be culpable;
and if man adduces the testimony of his own conscience, the law
reminds him that it is his duty to rectify his conscience. Such is, in
truth, the foundation of a legislation which has appeared so unjust; a
foundation which it is necessary to point out, in order to vindicate
a great many human laws from a deep disgrace; for it would be a great
disgrace to claim the right of punishing a man who was really innocent.
Such an absurd right is so far from belonging to human justice, that it
does not belong even to God. The infinite justice of God would cease to
be what it is, if it could punish the innocent.
Perhaps another origin will be assigned for the right which governments
possess, of punishing the propagation of certain doctrines and the
actions committed in consequence of them, when the criminal has acted
from the deepest conviction. "Governments," it may be said, "act in
the name of society, which, like every being, possesses the right of
self-defence. There are certain doctrines which menace its existence;
it has, therefore, of necessity and right, the power of resisting those
who promulgate them." Such a reason, however plausible it may appear,
is liable to this grave objection, that it destroys at one blow the
idea of punishment and justice. To wound an aggressor in self-defence
is not to chastise but to resist him. If we consider society in this
point of view, the criminal led to punishment will no longer be a real
criminal, but the unfortunate victim of a rash and unequal struggle.
The voice of the judge condemning him will no longer be the august
voice of justice; his sentence will only be the act of society avenging
the attack made upon it. The word punishment will then assume quite
a different meaning; the gradations of it will depend entirely upon
calculations, and not on justice. We must remember this; if we suppose
that society, by virtue of the right of self-defence, inflicts a
punishment upon the man whom it considers quite innocent, it no longer
judges or condemns, but fights and struggles. That which is perfectly
suitable with respect to the relations between one society and another,
is in no way suitable to society in its relations with individuals. It
then appears like a combat between a giant and a pigmy. The giant takes
the pigmy in his hand, and crushes him against a stone.
The doctrine which I have just explained evidently shows the value
of the much vaunted principle of universal toleration; it has been
demonstrated that that principle is as impracticable in fact as it is
unsustainable in theory; consequently all the accusations made against
the Catholic Church on the subject of intolerance are overturned. It
has been clearly shown that intolerance is in some measure the right of
all public power; this has always been acknowledged; it is acknowledged
still, generally speaking, when philosophers, the partisans of
tolerance, attain to power. No doubt, governments have a thousand times
abused this principle; no doubt, more than once the truth has been
persecuted in virtue of it; but what do men not abuse? Their duty,
then, as good philosophers, was not to establish principles that cannot
be sustained, and are extremely dangerous; not to declaim to satiety
against the times and institutions which have preceded us; but to
endeavor to propagate sentiments of mildness and indulgence, and, above
all, not to impugn important truths, without which society cannot be
sustained, and which cannot be destroyed without abandoning the world
to the empire of force, and, consequently, to despotism and tyranny.
Men have attacked dogmas; but they have not been willing to see that
morality was intimately connected with dogmas, and that it was itself a
dogma. By proclaiming unbounded liberty of thought, they have asserted
the impeccability of the mind; error has ceased to figure among the
faults of which men can be guilty. They have forgotten that, in order
to _will_, it was necessary to _know_; and that to _will rightly_, it
was necessary to _know truly_. If we examine the greater part of the
errors of our hearts, we shall see that they have their source in a
misunderstanding; is it possible, then, that it should not be the duty
of man to preserve his mind from error? But since it has been said
that opinions are of little importance, that man is free to choose such
as please him, even in matters of religion and morality, truth has lost
its value; its intrinsic worth is no longer what it was in the eyes of
man; and too many consider themselves exempt from attempting to attain
it,--a deplorable condition of mind, which is one of the greatest evils
afflicting society.[25]
CHAPTER XXXVI.
ON THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN.
I find myself naturally led to make a few observations on the
intolerance of certain Catholic princes, on the Inquisition, and in
particular on that of Spain. I must make a rapid examination of the
charges against Catholicity on account of its conduct during the last
centuries. The dungeons, the burnings of the Inquisition, and the
intolerance of some Catholic princes, have furnished the enemies of
the Church with one of their most effective arguments in depreciating
her, and rendering her the object of odium and hatred; and it must
be allowed that they have, in attacks of this kind, many advantages,
which give them good prospects of success. Indeed (as we have said
above, for the generality of readers, who, without undertaking to
examine things to the bottom, naïvely allow themselves to be led away
by a subtle writer; as we have said, for all those who have sensitive
hearts, and are prompt to pity the unfortunate), what is more likely to
excite indignation than the exhibition of dark dungeons, instruments
of torture, _san-benitos_, and burnings? Imagine what effect must be
produced, amid our toleration, our gentle manners, our humane penal
codes, by the sudden exhibition of the severities, the cruelties of
another age; the whole exaggerated and grouped into one picture,
where are shown all the melancholy scenes which occurred in different
places, and were spread over a long period of time. They take care to
remind us that all this was done in the name of the God of peace and
love; thereby the contrast is rendered more vivid, the imagination
is excited, the heart becomes indignant; and the result is, that the
clergy, magistrates, kings, and popes of those remote times, appear
like a troop of executioners, whose pleasure consists in tormenting
and desolating the human race. Writers, who have ventured to act in
this way, have certainly not added to their reputation for delicacy of
conscience. There is a rule which orators and writers ought never to
forget, viz. that it is not allowable to excite the passions, until
they have convinced the reason, unless it had been convinced before.
Besides, there is a degree of bad faith in appealing to the feelings
with respect to matters which ought to be examined by the light of
reason alone, if they are to be examined properly. In such a case we
ought not to begin by moving, but by convincing; to do otherwise is to
deceive the reader.
I am not going to write the history of the Inquisition, or of the
different systems which various countries have adopted with respect
to religious intolerance; this would be impossible within my narrow
limits; besides, it would lead me away from the object of my work.
Ought we to draw from the Inquisition in general, that of Spain in
particular, or from the greater or less intolerance of the legislation
of some countries, an accusation against Catholicity? Can it, in
this respect, be put in comparison with Protestantism? Such are the
questions I have to examine.
Three things at first present themselves to the eyes of the observer:
1st, the legislation and institutions proceeding from the principle of
intolerance; 2d, the use which has been made of this legislation and
these institutions; 3d, the intolerant acts which have been committed
illegally. With respect to the latter, I must say at once that they
have nothing to do with the question. The Massacre of St. Bartholomew,
and other atrocities committed in the name of religion, ought not to
trouble the apologists of religion: to render her responsible for
all that has been done in her name, would be to act with manifest
injustice. Man is endowed with so strong and lively a sense of the
excellence of virtue, that he endeavors to cover the greatest crimes
with her mantle;--would it be reasonable to banish virtue from the
earth on that account? There are, in the history of mankind, terrible
periods, where a fatal giddiness seizes upon the mind; rage, inflamed
by disorder, blinds the intellect and changes the heart; evil is
called good, and good evil; the most horrible attempts are made under
the most respectable names. Historians and philosophers, in treating
of such periods, should know what ought to be their line of conduct;
strictly accurate in the narration of such facts, they ought to
beware of drawing from them a judgment as to the prevailing ideas and
institutions. Society then resembles a man in a state of delirium;
we should ill judge of the ideas, character, and conduct of such a
man, from what he says and does in that deplorable condition. What
party, in those calamitous times, can boast of not having committed
great crimes? If we fix our eyes on the period just mentioned, do we
not see the leaders of both parties assassinated by treason? Admiral
Coligny died by the hands of the assassins who began the massacre of
St. Bartholomew; but the Duke of Guise had been also assassinated
by Poltrot, before Orleans. Henry III. was assassinated by Jacques
Clement; but this same Henry III. had treacherously murdered the other
Duke of Guise in the corridors of his palace, and his brother, the
Cardinal, in the tower of Moulins; this same Henry III. had taken
part in the massacre of St. Bartholomew. We see atrocities committed
by the Catholics; but did not their opponents also commit them? Let
us throw a veil over these catastrophes, over these afflicting proofs
of the misery and perversity of the human heart. The tribunal of
the Inquisition, considered in itself, is only the application to a
particular case of that doctrine of intolerance, which, to a greater
or less degree, is that of every existing power. Thus, we have only to
examine the character of that particular application, and see whether
its enemies are correct in their charges against it. In the first
place, we must observe that those who extol antiquity, sadly falsify
history, if they pretend that intolerance only appeared after the time
when, according to them, the Church had degenerated from her primitive
purity. As for myself, I see that from the earliest times, when the
Church began to exert political influence, heresy began to figure in
the codes as a crime; and I have never been able to discover a period
of complete tolerance. I must here make an important remark, which
shows one of the causes of the rigor displayed in later centuries.
The Inquisition was first directed against the Manichean heretics;
that is, against the sectaries who at all times were treated with
the greatest severity. In the 11th century, when the punishment of
fire had not yet been applied to the crime of heresy, the Manicheans
were excepted from this rule. Even in the time of the Pagan emperors,
these sectaries were treated with extreme rigor. In the year 296, we
see Diocletian and Maximilian, by an edict, condemning to different
punishments the Manicheans who had not abjured their dogmas, and
consigning their leaders to the fire. These sectaries have always been
considered as great criminals; and to punish them has always been
judged necessary, not only for the interests of religion, but even for
the morals and good order of society. This was one of the causes of
the rigor of the Inquisition at its commencement: if we add to this,
the turbulent character of the sects which, under various names, arose
in the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries, we shall have two of the causes
that contributed to produce those scenes which now we can scarcely
credit. In studying the history of those centuries, and fixing our
attention on the troubles and disasters which ravaged the south of
France, we clearly see that it was not a dispute as to a particular
dogma, but that the whole social system was compromised. The sectaries
of those times were precursors of those of the 16th century; with this
difference, that the latter, if we except the frantic Anabaptists, were
less democratic, less apt to address the multitude. Amid the cruelties
of those times, when long ages of violence and revolution had given an
excessive preponderance to brute force, what could be expected from
governments incessantly menaced with such imminent danger? It is clear
that the laws, and their application, must savour of the times.
As to the Spanish Inquisition, which was only an extension of that
which was established in other countries, we must divide it, with
respect to its duration, into three great periods;--we omit the time of
its existence in the kingdom of Aragon, before its introduction into
Castille. The first of these comprehends the time when the Inquisition
was principally directed against the relapsed Jews and Moors, from
the day of its installation under the Catholic sovereigns, till the
middle of the reign of Charles V. The second extends from the time
when it began to concentrate its efforts to prevent the introduction
of Protestantism into Spain, until that danger entirely ceased; that
is, from the middle of the reign of Charles V. till the coming of
the Bourbons. The third and last period is that when the Inquisition
was limited to repress infamous crimes, and exclude the philosophy
of Voltaire; this period was continued until its abolition in the
beginning of the present century. It is clear that, the institution
being successively modified according to circumstances at these
different epochs,--although it always remained fundamentally the
same,--the commencement and termination of each of these three periods
which we have pointed out cannot be precisely marked; nevertheless,
these three periods really existed in its history, and present us with
very different characters.
Every one knows the peculiar circumstances in which the Inquisition
was established in the time of the Catholic sovereigns; yet it is
worthy of remark, that the Bull of establishment was solicited by Queen
Isabella; that is, by one of the most distinguished sovereigns in our
history,--by that queen who still, after three centuries, preserves the
respect and admiration of all Spaniards. Isabella, far from opposing
the will of the people in this measure, only realized the national
wish. The Inquisition was established chiefly against the Jews; the
Papal Bull had been sent in 1478; now, before the Inquisition published
its first edict, dated Seville, in 1481, the Cortes of Toledo, in 1480,
had adopted severe measures on the subject. To prevent the injury
which the intercourse between Jews and Christians might occasion to
the Catholic faith, the Cortes had ordered that unbaptized Israelites
should be obliged to wear a distinctive mark, dwell in separate
quarters, called _Juiveries_, and return there before night. Ancient
regulations against them were renewed; the professions of doctor,
surgeon, shopkeeper, barber, and tavern-keeper, were forbidden them.
Intolerance was, therefore, popular at that time. If the Inquisition be
justified in the eyes of friends to monarchy, by conformity with the
will of kings, it has an equal claim to be so in the eyes of lovers of
democracy.
No doubt the heart is grieved at reading the excessive severities
exercised at that time against the Jews; but must there not have
been very grave causes to provoke such excesses? The danger which
the Spanish monarchy, not yet well established, would have incurred
if the Jews, then very powerful on account of their riches and their
alliances with the most influential families, had been allowed to act
without restraint, has been pointed out as one of the most important
of these causes. It was greatly to be feared that they would league
with the Moors against the Christians. The respective positions of the
three nations rendered this league natural: this is the reason why it
was looked upon as necessary to break a power which was capable of
compromising anew the independence of the Christians. It is necessary
also to observe, that at the time when the Inquisition was established,
the war of eight hundred years against the Moors was not yet finished.
The Inquisition was projected before 1474; it was established in
1480, and the conquest of Granada did not take place till 1492. Thus
it was founded at the time when the obstinate struggle was about
to be decided; it was yet to be known whether the Christians would
remain masters of the whole peninsula, or whether the Moors should
retain possession of one of the most fertile and beautiful provinces;
whether these enemies, shut up in Granada, should preserve a position,
excellent for their communication with Africa, and a means for all the
attempts which, at a later period, the Crescent might be disposed to
make against us. Now, the power of the Crescent was very great, as was
clearly shown by its enterprises against the rest of Europe in the next
century. In such emergencies, after ages of fighting, and at the moment
which was to decide the victory for ever, have combatants ever been
known to conduct themselves with moderation and mildness? It cannot be
denied that the system of repression pursued in Spain, with respect
to the Jews and the Moors, was inspired, in great measure, by the
instinct of self-preservation: we can easily believe that the Catholic
princes had this motive before them when they decided on asking for the
establishment of the Inquisition in their dominions. The danger was not
imaginary: it was perfectly real. In order to form an idea of the turn
which things might have taken if some precaution had not been adopted,
it is enough to recollect the insurrections of the last Moors in later
times.
Yet it would be wrong, in this affair, to attribute all to the policy
of royalty; and it is necessary here to avoid exalting too much the
foresight and designs of men; for my part, I am inclined to think that
Ferdinand and Isabella naturally followed the generality of the nation,
in whose eyes the Jews were odious when they persevered in their creed,
and suspected when they embraced the Christian religion. Two causes
contributed to this hatred and animadversion. First, the excited state
of religious feeling then general in all Europe, and especially in
Spain; 2d, the conduct by which the Jews had drawn upon themselves the
public indignation.
The necessity of restraining the cupidity of the Jews, for the sake
of the independence of the Christians, was of ancient date in Spain:
the old assemblies of Toledo had attempted it. In the following
centuries the evil reached its height; a great part of the riches of
the peninsula had passed into the hands of the Jews, and almost all the
Christians found themselves their debtors. Thence the hatred of the
people against the Jews; thence the frequent troubles which agitated
some towns of the peninsula; thence the tumults which more than once
were fatal to the Jews, and in which their blood flowed in abundance.
It was difficult for a people accustomed for ages to set themselves
free by force of arms, to resign themselves peacefully and tranquilly
to the lot prepared for them by the artifices and exactions of a
strange race, whose name, moreover, bore the recollection of a terrible
malediction.
In later times, an immense number of Jews were converted to the
Christian religion; but the hatred of the people was not extinguished
thereby, and mistrust followed these converts into their new state. It
is very probable that a great number of these conversions were hardly
sincere, as they were partly caused by the sad position in which the
Jews who continued in Judaism were placed. In default of conjectures
founded on reason in this respect, we will regard as a sufficient
corroboration of our opinion, the multitude of Judaizing Christians
who were discovered as soon as care was taken to find out those who
had been guilty of apostacy. However this may be, it is certain that
the distinction between _new and old_ Christians was introduced;
the latter denomination was a title of honor, and the former a
mark of ignominy; the converted Jews were contemptuously called
_marranos_,--impure men, pigs. With more or less foundation, they were
accused of horrible crimes. In their dark assemblies they committed,
it was said, atrocities which could hardly be believed, for the honor
of humanity. For example, it was said that, to revenge themselves on
the Christians and in contempt of religion, they crucified Christian
children, taking care to choose for the purpose the greatest day
among Christian solemnities. There is the often-repeated history of
the knight of the house of Guzman, who, being hidden one night in the
house of a Jew whose daughter he loved, saw a child crucified at the
time when the Christians celebrated the institution of the sacrifice
of the Eucharist. Besides infanticide, there were attributed to the
Jews, sacrileges, poisonings, conspiracies, and other crimes. That
these rumors were generally believed by the people is proved by the
fact, that the Jews were forbidden by law to exercise the professions
of doctor, surgeon, barber, and tavern-keeper; this shows what degree
of confidence was placed in their morality. It is useless to stay to
examine the foundations for these sinister accusations. We are not
ignorant how far popular credulity will go, above all when it is under
the influence of excited feelings, which makes it view all things
in the same light. It is enough for us to know that these rumors
circulated everywhere and with credit, to understand what must have
been the public indignation against the Jews, and consequently how
natural it was that authority, yielding to the impulse of the general
mind, should be urged to treat them with excessive rigor.
The situation in which the Jews were placed is sufficient to show, that
they might have attempted to act in concert to resist the Christians;
what they did after the death of St. Peter Arbues shows what they
were capable of doing on other occasions. The funds necessary for the
accomplishment of the murder, the pay of the assassins, and the other
expenses required for the plot, were collected by means of voluntary
contributions imposed on themselves by all the Jews of Aragon. Does not
this show an advanced state of organization, which might have become
fatal if it had not been watched.
In alluding to the death of St. Peter Arbues, I wish to make an
observation on what has been said on this subject, as proving the
unpopularity of the establishment of the Inquisition in Spain.
What more evident proof, we shall be told, can you have than the
assassination of the Inquisitor? Is it not a sure sign that the
indignation of the people was at its height, and that they were quite
opposed to the Inquisition? Would they otherwise have been hurried
into such excesses? If by 'the people' you mean the Jews and their
descendants, I will not deny that the establishment of the Inquisition
was indeed very odious to them; but it was not so with the rest of the
nation. The event we are speaking of gave rise to a circumstance which
proves just the reverse. When the report of the death of the Inquisitor
was spread through the town, the people made a fearful tumult to
avenge his death. They spread through the town, they went in crowds in
pursuit of the _new Christians_, so that a bloody catastrophe would
have ensued, had not the young Archbishop of Saragossa, Alphonsus of
Aragon, presented himself to the people on horseback, and calmed them
by the assurance that all the rigor of the laws should fall on the
heads of the guilty. Was the Inquisition as unpopular as it has been
represented; and will it be said that its adversaries were the majority
of the people? Why, then, could not the tumult at Saragossa have been
avoided in spite of all the precautions which were no doubt taken
by the conspirators, at that time very powerful by their riches and
influence?
At the time of the greatest rigor against the Judaizing Christians,
there is a fact worthy of attention. Persons accused, or threatened
with the pursuit of the Inquisition, took every means to escape the
action of that tribunal: they left the soil of Spain and went to
Rome. Would those who imagine that Rome has always been the hotbed of
intolerance, the firebrand of persecution, have imagined this? The
number of causes commenced by the Inquisition, and summoned from Spain
to Rome, is countless, during the first fifty years of the existence
of that tribunal; and it must be added, that Rome always inclined to
the side of indulgence. I do not know that it would be possible to
cite one accused person who, by appealing to Rome, did not ameliorate
his condition. The history of the Inquisition at that time is full of
contests between the Kings and Popes; and we constantly find, on the
part of the Holy See, a desire to restrain the Inquisition within the
bounds of justice and humanity. The line of conduct prescribed by the
court of Rome was not always followed as it ought to have been; thus we
see the Popes compelled to receive a multitude of appeals, and mitigate
the lot that would have befallen the appellants, if their cause had
been definitely decided in Spain. We also see the Pope name the judge
of appeal, at the solicitation of the Catholic sovereigns, who desired
that causes should be finally decided in Spain: the first of these
judges was Dr. Inigo Manrique, Archbishop of Seville. Nevertheless, at
the end of a short time, the same Pope, in a Bull of the 2d of August,
1483, said that he had received new appeals, made by a great number
of the Spaniards of Seville, who had not dared to address themselves
to the judge of appeal for fear of being arrested. Such was then the
excitement of the public mind; such was, at that time, the necessity
of preventing injustice, or measures of undue severity. The Pope
added, that some of those who had had recourse to his justice had
already received the absolution of the Apostolical Penitentiary, and
that others were about to receive it; he afterwards complained that
indulgences granted to divers accused persons had not been sufficiently
respected at Seville; in fine, after several other admonitions, he
observed to Ferdinand and Isabella, that mercy towards the guilty was
more pleasing to God than the severity which it was desired to use; and
he gave the example of the good Shepherd following the wandering sheep.
He ended by exhorting the sovereigns to treat with mildness those who
voluntarily confessed their faults, desiring them to allow them to
reside at Seville, or in some other place they might choose; and to
allow them the enjoyment of their property, as if they had not been
guilty of the crime of heresy.
Moreover, it is not to be supposed that the appeals admitted at Rome,
and by virtue of which the lot of the accused was improved, were
founded on errors of form and injustice committed in the application
of the law. If the accused had recourse to Rome, it was not always
to demand reparation for an injustice, but because they were sure of
finding indulgence. We have a proof of this in the considerable number
of Spanish refugees convicted at Rome of having fallen into Judaism.
Two hundred and fifty of them were found at one time; yet there was not
one capital execution. Some penances were imposed on them, and when
they were absolved, they were free to return home, without the least
mark of ignominy. This took place at Rome in 1498.
It is a remarkable thing that the Roman Inquisition was never known to
pronounce the execution of capital punishment, although the Apostolic
See was occupied during that time by Popes of extreme rigor and
severity in all that relates to the civil administration. We find
in all parts of Europe scaffolds prepared to punish crimes against
religion; scenes which sadden the soul were everywhere witnessed. Rome
is an exception to the rule; Rome, which it has been attempted to
represent as a monster of intolerance and cruelty. It is true, that
the Popes have not preached, like Protestants, universal toleration;
but facts show the difference between the Popes and Protestants. The
Popes, armed with a tribunal of intolerance, have not spilled a drop of
blood; Protestants and philosophers have shed torrents. What advantage
is it to the victim to hear his executioners proclaim toleration? It
is adding the bitterness of sarcasm to his punishment. The conduct
of Rome in the use which she made of the Inquisition, is the best
apology of Catholicity against those who attempt to stigmatize her as
barbarous and sanguinary. In truth, what is there in common between
Catholicity and the excessive severity employed in this place or that,
in the extraordinary situation in which many rival races were placed,
in the presence of danger which menaced one of them, or in the interest
which the kings had in maintaining the tranquillity of their states,
and securing their conquests from all danger? I will not enter into a
detailed examination of the conduct of the Spanish Inquisition with
respect to Judaizing Christians; and I am far from thinking that the
rigor which it employed against them was preferable to the mildness
recommended and displayed by the Popes. What I wish to show here is,
that rigor was the result of extraordinary circumstances,--the effect
of the national spirit, and of the severity of customs in Europe at
that time. Catholicity cannot be reproached with excesses committed
for these different reasons. Still more, if we pay attention to the
spirit which prevails in all the instructions of the Popes relating
to the Inquisition; if we observe their manifest inclination to
range themselves on the side of mildness, and to suppress the marks
of ignominy with which the guilty, as well as their families, were
stigmatized, we have a right to suppose that, if the Popes had not
feared to displease the kings too much, and to excite divisions which
might have been fatal, their measures would have been carried still
further. If we recollect the negotiations which took place with respect
to the noisy affair of the claims of the Cortes of Aragon, we shall see
to which side the court of Rome leaned.
As we are speaking of intolerance with regard to the Judaizers, let us
say a few words as to the disposition of Luther towards the Jews. Does
it not seem that the pretended reformer, the founder of independence of
thought, the furious declaimer against the oppression and tyranny of
the Popes, should have been animated with the most humane sentiments
towards that people? No doubt the eulogists of this chieftain of
Protestantism ought to think thus also. I am sorry for them; but
history will not allow us to partake of this delusion. According to
all appearances, if the apostate monk had found himself in the place
of Torquemada, the Judaizers would not have been in a better position.
What, then, was the system advised by Luther, according to Seckendorf,
one of his apologists? "Their synagogues ought to be destroyed, their
houses pulled down, their prayer-books, the Talmud, and even the books
of the Old Testament, to be taken from them; their rabbis ought to
be forbidden to teach, and be compelled to gain their livelihood by
hard labor." The Inquisition, at least, did not proceed against the
Jews, but against the Judaizers; that is, against those who, after
being converted to Christianity, relapsed into their errors, and added
sacrilege to their apostacy, by the external profession of a creed
which they detested in secret, and which they profaned by the exercise
of their old religion. But Luther extended his severity to the Jews
themselves; so that, according to his doctrines, no reproach can be
made against the sovereign who expelled the Jews from their dominions.
The Moors and the Mooriscoes no less occupied the attention of the
Inquisition at that time; and all that has been said on the subject
of the Jews may be applied to them with some modifications. They were
also an abhorred race--a race which had been contended with for eight
centuries. When they retained their religion, the Moors inspired
hatred; when they abjured it, mistrust; the Popes interested themselves
in their favor also in a peculiar manner. We ought to remark a Bull
issued in 1530, which is expressed in language quite evangelical: it is
there said, that the ignorance of these nations is one of the principal
causes of their faults and errors; the first thing to be done to render
their conversion solid and sincere was, according to the recommendation
contained in this Bull, to endeavor to enlighten their minds with sound
doctrine.
It will be said that the Pope granted to Charles V. the Bull which
released him from the oath taken in the Cortes of Saragossa in the year
1519; an oath, by which he had engaged not to make any change with
respect to the Moors; whereby, it is said, the Emperor was enabled to
complete their expulsion. But, we must observe, that the Pope for a
long time resisted that concession; and, that if he at length complied
with the wishes of the Emperor, it was only because he thought that the
expulsion of the Moors was indispensable to secure the tranquillity of
the kingdom. Whether this was true or not, the Emperor, and not the
Pope, was the better judge; the latter, placed at a great distance,
could not know the real state of things in detail. Moreover, it was not
the Spanish monarch alone who thought so; it is related that Francis
I., when a prisoner at Madrid, one day conversing with Charles V., told
him that tranquillity would never be established in Spain, if the Moors
and Mooriscoes were not expelled.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
SECOND EPOCH OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN.
It has been said that Philip II. founded a new Inquisition in Spain,
more terrible than that of the Catholic sovereigns; at the same
time the Inquisition of Ferdinand and Isabella receives a certain
degree of indulgence, which is refused to that of their successors.
At the very outset, we find an important historical mistake in this
assertion. Philip did not establish a new Inquisition; he maintained
that which the Catholic sovereigns had left him, and which Charles
V., his father and predecessor, had particularly recommended to him
by will. The Committee of the Cortes of Cadiz, in the project for the
abolition of the tribunal of the Inquisition, excuses the conduct of
the Catholic sovereigns, and blames with severity that of Philip II.;
it attempts to make all the fault and odium fall on that prince. An
illustrious French writer, very recently treating of this important
question, has allowed himself to be led into the same errors, with
that candor which sometimes accompanies genius. "There were," says M.
Lacordaire, "in the Spanish Inquisition, two solemn periods, which
must not be confounded; the one at the end of the fifteenth century,
under Ferdinand and Isabella, before the Moors were expelled from
Granada, their last asylum; the other, in the middle of the sixteenth,
under Philip II., when Protestantism threatened to propagate itself in
Spain. The Committee of the Cortes has perfectly distinguished these
two epochs; and while it stigmatizes the Inquisition of Philip II.,
expresses itself with moderation with respect to that of Ferdinand and
Isabella." After these words the writer quotes a text, where it is
affirmed that Philip II. was the real founder of the Inquisition; if
that institution attained in the end to a high degree of power, it was
owing, it says, to the refined policy of that prince. We read, a little
further on, that Philip II. was the inventor of the _auto-da-fé_, to
terrify heretics; and that the first of these bloody spectacles was
seen at Seville in 1559. (_Mémoire pour le rétablissement de l'Ordre
des Frères Precheurs_, chap, vi.) Setting aside the historical mistake
with respect to the _auto-da-fés_, it is well known that neither the
_san-benitos_ nor the fagots were the invention of Philip II. Such
mistakes easily escape a writer who is satisfied with alluding to a
fact incidentally; if we bring forward this one, it is because it
contains an accusation against a monarch to whom, for a long time,
too little justice has been done. Philip II. continued the work which
had been begun by his predecessors; if they are excused, he ought not
to be treated with greater severity. Ferdinand and Isabella directed
the Inquisition against the apostate Jews; why could not Philip II.
avail himself of it against Protestants? But I shall be told he abused
his right and carried rigor to excess. Certainly there was not more
indulgence in the times of Ferdinand and Isabella. Are the numerous
executions at Seville and other places forgotten? Or what Mariana
says in his history, and the public measures taken by the Popes for
the purpose of checking the excessive severity? The words quoted
against Philip II. are taken from the work called _La Inquicitión sin
mascura_ (the Inquisition unveiled,) published in Spain in 1811. We
may judge of the value of this authority, when we know that the author
of the book was distinguished till his death by a deep hatred to the
Spanish kings. The book bears the name of Nathanael Jomtob; but the
real author is a well-known Spaniard, who, in his latter writings,
seems to have undertaken to avenge, by his unbounded exaggerations
and furious invectives, all that he had previously attacked; a writer
who assails, with an intolerable partiality, all that presents itself
before him--religion, country, classes of society, individuals, and
opinions--insulting and tearing to pieces all, as if he had been
seized with a sally of passion, and not even sparing the men of his
own party. Is it, then, surprising that this writer regarded Philip
II. as Protestants and philosophers do, that is, as a monarch placed
on the earth for the disgrace and misfortune of humanity,--a monster
of Machiavellianism, anxious to diffuse darkness, in order to maintain
himself in safety in his cruelty and perfidy? I will not undertake
to justify, on all points, the policy of Philip II.; I will not deny
that there are exaggerations in the eulogiums which some Spanish
writers have given to that prince. But, on the other hand, it cannot be
doubted, that Protestants and the political enemies of Philip II. have
ever been careful to denounce him. And do you know why Protestants have
done this? It is because it was he who prevented Protestantism from
penetrating into Spain; it was he who, at that period of agitation,
maintained the cause of Catholicity. Let us set aside the great events
of the rest of Europe, of which each one will judge as he pleases;
let us limit ourselves to Spain. We do not fear to assert, that the
introduction of Protestantism into that country was imminent and
inevitable without the system which he pursued. Whether Philip used
the Inquisition for political purposes, in certain cases, is not the
question we have to examine here; but at least it must be acknowledged
that it was not a mere instrument of ambitious projects; it was an
institution strengthened and maintained in presence of an imminent
danger.
It appears, from the proceedings of the Inquisition at this time,
that Protestantism began to spread in an incredible manner in Spain;
eminent ecclesiastics, monks, nuns, seculars of distinction, in a word,
individuals of the most influential classes, were attached to the new
errors. Could the efforts of Protestants to introduce their creed
into Spain remain altogether unproductive, when they employed every
stratagem in their ardor to introduce their books? They went so far as
to place their prohibited writings in casks of Champagne and Burgundy
wine, with so much art as to deceive the custom-house men: thus wrote
the Spanish Ambassador at Paris.
To perceive the whole danger, it is enough to observe with attention
the state of minds in Spain at this time; besides, incontestable
facts come in support of conjectures. The Protestants, taking great
care to declaim against abuses, represented themselves as reformers,
and labored to draw to their side all who were animated by an ardent
desire for reform. This desire for reform had existed for a long time
in the Church; but with some it was inspired by bad intentions; in
other words, the specious name of reform concealed the real intention
of many, which was to destroy. At the same time, with some sincere
Catholics, this desire, although pure in principle, went to imprudent
zeal, and reached an ill-regulated ardor. It is probable that such
zeal, carried to too great an extent, was, with many, changed into
acrimony; thence a certain facility in receiving the insidious
suggestions of the enemies of the Church. Many people who had begun
with indiscreet zeal, perhaps fell into exaggeration, then into
bitterness, and finally into heresy. Spain was not exempt from this
disposition of mind, from whence the course of events might have drawn
very bitter results, if Protestantism had obtained any footing on our
soil. We know that the Spaniards at the Council of Trent distinguished
themselves by their reforming zeal, and their boldness in expressing
their opinions. Let us remark, moreover, that religious discord being
once introduced into a country, minds are excited by disputes, they are
irritated by frequent shocks, and it sometimes happens that respectable
men precipitate themselves into excesses which they would have abhorred
a short time before. It is difficult to say with precision what would
have happened if the rigor had been at all relaxed on this point.
Certain it is, that, when reading some passages of Luis Vives, of Arias
Montanus, of Carranza, and of the consultation of Melchior Cano, we can
fancy we find, at the bottom of their minds, a sort of disquietude and
agitation, which may best be compared to those heavy murmurings which
announce from afar the commencement of a tempest.
The famous trial of the Archbishop of Toledo, Fray Bartolomé de
Carranza, is one of the facts which are most frequently cited to show
the arbitrary nature of the proceedings of the Spanish Inquisition.
We certainly cannot see without emotion, shut up in prison for many
years, one of the most learned men in Europe, the Archbishop of Toledo,
honored with the intimate confidence of Philip II. and the Queen of
England, allied in friendship with the most distinguished men of the
time, and known to all Christendom by the brilliant part which he had
played at the Council of Trent. The process lasted seventeen years;
and although the cause was carried to Rome, where the Archbishop must
have found powerful friends, a declaration of innocence in his favor
could not be obtained. Without staying to notice the many incidents
of a cause so long and so complicated, without insisting on the more
or less reason which the discourses and writings of Carranza may have
afforded for suspicions against his faith, I am quite certain, in my
own mind, that, in his own conscience and before God, he was perfectly
innocent. Here is a proof that places my opinion beyond a doubt. A
short time after the judgment was given, he fell ill; his malady was
supposed to be mortal, and the sacraments were administered to him.
At the moment of receiving the Viaticum, in the presence of a large
concourse, he declared, in the most solemn manner, that he had never
left the Catholic faith, that his conscience acquitted him of all the
accusations made against him; and he confirmed his declaration by
calling to witness God, in whose presence he was, whom he was about to
receive under the most sacred species, and before whose awful tribunal
he was in a few moments to appear. This pathetic act drew tears from
all present; all suspicions against him were dissipated as by a breath,
and a new sympathy was added to that which his continued misfortunes
had excited. The Sovereign Pontiff did not doubt the sincerity of the
declaration, as a magnificent epitaph was placed upon his tomb, which
certainly would not have been allowed if there had been the least doubt
of it. It certainly would be rash to refuse to believe a declaration so
explicit from the mouth of such a man as Carranza, expiring, and in the
presence of Jesus Christ Himself.
After having paid this tribute to the knowledge, virtues, and
misfortunes of Carranza, it remains for us to examine whether, whatever
may have been the purity of his conscience, it can be justly said that
his trial was a perfidious intrigue, carried on by envy and hatred.
This is not the place to examine the immense procedure in this case;
but since allusion has been made to it to condemn Philip II. and the
adversaries of Carranza, I wish, in my turn, to make some observations,
to endeavor to place the affair in its proper light. In the first
place, is it not astonishing that a trial devoid of all foundation
should have had so extraordinary a duration? At least there must have
been some appearance of it. Besides, if the cause had been decided in
Spain, the length of the trial might not have been so extraordinary.
But it was not so; the cause remained pending in Rome many years. Were
the judges so blind or so wicked that they could not discover the
calumny, or that they wanted the virtue to destroy it, supposing it
to have been as clear and evident as it has been pretended? It may be
replied to this, that the intrigues of Philip II., who was determined
on the destruction of the Archbishop, prevented the truth from
appearing; in proof of this assertion, have we not the difficulties
which the king made to allow the prisoner to be transferred to Rome?
It was necessary, it is said, for Pius V. to effect this by the threat
of excommunication. I will not deny that Philip II. attempted to
aggravate the situation of the Archbishop, and wished for a sentence
little favorable to the illustrious accused. Yet, before deciding
that the conduct of the king was criminal, we must know whether he
acted thus from personal resentment, from conviction, or from the
suspicion that the Archbishop inclined towards Lutheranism. Carranza,
before his disgrace, was highly favored and esteemed by Philip, as
appears from the missions which were confided to him in England, and
from his elevation to the first ecclesiastical dignity in Spain. How,
then, can we presume that so much good-will was converted on a sudden
into personal and violent hatred? Is it not, at least, necessary that
history should afford a fact in support of this conjecture? Now, I find
this nowhere in history, nor am I aware that others have done so. If
Philip took so decided a part against the Archbishop, it was evidently
because he believed, or strongly suspected him of being heretical. In
that case, Philip may have been rash, imprudent--all that you please;
but it cannot be said that, in the pursuit, he was moved by the spirit
of vengeance, or by low animosity.
Other men of the time were equally accused. Among the rest, Melchior
Cano. Carranza himself seemed to be suspicious; he bitterly complained
that Melchior Cano had ventured to say that the Archbishop was as
heretical as Luther. But Salazar de Mendoza, when relating the fact in
the life of Carranza, asserts that Cano, hearing this, openly denied
it, saying, that he had said nothing of the kind. Indeed, the mind
is easily inclined to believe him; men with intellects as favored as
his, have, in their own dignity, too powerful a preservative against
baseness, to allow them to be suspected of playing the infamous part of
calumniators.
I do not believe that it is necessary to seek for the cause of the
misfortunes of Carranza in private hatred or jealousy; it is found
in the critical circumstances of the time, and in the character of
this illustrious man himself. The grave symptoms which produced alarm
lest Protestantism might make proselytes in Spain; the efforts of
the Protestants to introduce their books and emissaries there; the
experience of what happened in other countries, and particularly in
the kingdom of France, created so much dread in men's minds, rendered
them so fearful and mistrustful, that the least suspicion of error,
above all, in persons elevated in dignity or distinguished for their
knowledge, occasioned disquietude and apprehension. We are aware of
the hot disputes which took place with respect to the Polyglot of
Antwerp and Arias Montanus, and we are not ignorant of the sufferings
of the famous Fray Luis de Leon, and some other illustrious men of that
time. Another conjuncture which contributed to push things to extremes
was, the political situation of Spain with respect to strangers.
The Spanish monarchy had too many enemies and rivals for her not to
have reason to fear that heresy, in the hands of her adversaries,
would become a means of introducing discord and civil war into her
bosom. These causes united, naturally rendered Philip suspicious and
mistrustful; the hatred of heresy combining in his mind with the desire
of self-preservation, he showed himself severe and inexorable with
respect to all that could affect the purity of the Catholic faith in
his empire.
On the other hand, it must be acknowledged that the character of
Carranza was not exactly what was required, in such critical times,
to avoid all dangerous wanderings. We perceive, in reading his
commentaries on the Catechism, that he was a man of acute penetration,
of vast erudition, of profound learning, of severe character, and of a
heart generous and frank. He spoke his thoughts without circumlocution,
without regard to the displeasure which his words might give to this
person or that. When he believed that he had discovered an abuse,
he pointed it out and condemned it openly, wherein he resembled his
supposed adversary, Melchior Cano, in more features than one. The
accusations against him in the trial were founded, not only on his
writings, but also on some of his sermons and private conversations.
I know not to what extent he exceeded the just limits; but I hesitate
not to affirm, that a man who wrote in the tone which we find in his
works, must have expressed himself _viva voce_ with great force, and
perhaps with excessive boldness. It must be added, to speak the whole
truth, that when treating of justification, in his commentaries on
the Catechism, he does not explain himself with all the clearness
desirable, and is wanting in the simplicity required by the unhappy
circumstances of the times. Men versed in this delicate matter know how
delicate certain points are. These points were then the subject of the
errors of Germany; and it may be easily imagined how much the attention
must have been fixed on the words of Carranza, and how alarming the
least shadow of ambiguity must have been. It is certain that, at Rome
he was not acquitted of all the accusations; he was compelled to abjure
a series of propositions, with respect to which he was judged liable
to suspicion; and some penances were imposed on him. Carranza on his
death-bed protested his innocence; but he took care to declare that
he did not regard the sentence of the Pope as unjust. The explanation
of the enigma is this: the innocence of the heart is not always
accompanied by the prudence of the lips.
I have dwelt upon this famous cause because it involves considerations
which strikingly exhibit the spirit of the age. These considerations
have, besides, the advantage of showing the truth in its proper light,
and prevent every thing being explained according to the wretched
measure of the malice of men. There is unhappily a tendency to explain
all in this way; and it may be truly said, that men too often give a
just foundation for it; yet, whenever there is no evident necessity
to do so, we ought to abstain from condemnation. The picture of the
history of humanity is sombre enough in itself; let us not take
pleasure in darkening it still more by new stains. We often call crime
that which was only ignorance. Man is inclined to evil; but he is not
less subject to error, and error is not always culpable.
Moreover, I believe that to Protestants themselves were owing the rigor
and anxious mistrust which the Inquisition of Spain displayed at that
time. They excited a religious revolution; and it is a constant law,
that all revolutions either destroy the power assailed, or render it
more harsh and severe. What before was looked upon as indifferent, is
now considered as suspected; and what, in all other circumstances,
would only have appeared a fault, is now regarded as a crime. Men are
in continual dread of seeing liberty converted into licentiousness;
and as revolutions destroy all, while they profess to reform,
whoever ventures to speak of reform, runs the risk of being blamed
as a disturber. Even prudent conduct is stigmatized as hypocritical
caution; frank and sincere language is termed insolence and dangerous
suggestion; reserve is a concealment full of cunning; even silence
itself assumes a meaning--it becomes alarming dissimulation. We have
seen so many things come to pass in our days, that we are placed in
an incomparable situation easily to understand the various phases of
the history of humanity. It is an undoubted fact, that Protestantism
produced a reaction in Spain. Its errors and excesses were the
reason why the ecclesiastical and civil power infinitely restrained
the liberty which had been previously enjoyed in all that related to
religion. Spain was preserved from the Protestant doctrines, when all
the probabilities were in favor of their being introduced there, in one
way or another. It is clear that this could not be obtained without
extraordinary efforts. Spain, at that time, appears to me like a place
besieged by a powerful enemy, where the leaders continually watched,
not only against attacks from without, but also against treason from
within. I will confirm these observations by an example, which will
serve for many others. Let us remember what took place with respect
to Bibles in the vulgar tongue; we shall then have an idea of what
passed with relation to all the rest, according to the natural order
of things. I have before me a testimony of what I have just said, as
respectable as it is worthy of interest--that of Carranza himself.
Hear what he says in his prologue to his commentaries on the Christian
Catechism: "Before the heresies of Luther had come from the infernal
regions to the light of this world, I do not know that the Holy
Scriptures in the vulgar tongue were anywhere forbidden. In Spain,
Bibles were translated into it by order of the Catholic sovereigns,
at the time when the Moors and Jews were allowed to live among the
Christians according to their own law. After the expulsion of the Jews
from Spain, the judges of religion found that some of those who had
been converted to our holy faith instructed their children in Judaism,
and taught them the ceremonies of the law of Moses by means of those
Bibles in the vulgar tongue, which they took care to have printed in
Italy, in the town of Ferrara. This is the real cause why Bibles in the
vulgar tongue were forbidden in Spain; but the possession and reading
of them were always allowed to colleges and monasteries, as well as
to persons of distinction above all suspicion." Carranza continues to
give, in a few words, the history of these prohibitions in Germany,
France, and other countries; then he adds: "In Spain, which was, and
still is, by the grace and goodness of God, pure from the cockle, care
was taken to forbid generally all the translations of the Scriptures in
the vulgar tongue, in order to prevent strangers having an opportunity
of holding controversy with simple and ignorant persons, and also
because they had, and still have, experience of certain particular
cases, and of the errors which began to arise in Spain from the
ill-understood reading of certain passages of the Bible. What I have
just stated is the real history of what took place; this is why the
Bible in the vulgar tongue was prohibited."
This curious passage of Carranza shows us, in a few words, the progress
of things. At first there was no prohibition; but the abuse committed
by the Jews provoked one, although still confined, as we have just
seen, within certain limits. Afterwards came the Protestants, upsetting
all Europe by means of their Bibles; Spain is threatened with the
introduction of the new errors; it is discovered that some persons
have been misled by the false interpretation of certain passages of
the Bible; they are compelled to take away this weapon from these
strangers, who attempt to use it to seduce simple people: from that
time the prohibition becomes rigorous and general.
To return to Philip II., let us not forget that this monarch was one
of the firmest defenders of the Catholic Church; and that in him was
personified the policy of the faithful ages, amid the vertigo which,
under the impulse of Protestantism, had taken possession of European
policy. If the Catholic Church, amid these great perturbations, could
reckon on a powerful protection from the princes of the earth, it was
in great measure owing to Philip II. This age was critical and decisive
in Europe. If it is true that he was unfortunate in Flanders, it is
not less undoubted that his power and ability afforded a counterpoise
to the Protestant power, which prevented it making itself master of
Europe. Even supposing that the efforts of Philip had only the result
of gaining time, by breaking the first shock of the Protestant policy,
this was not a slight service rendered to the Catholic Church, then
attacked on so many sides. What would have happened to Europe, if
Protestantism had been introduced into Spain as into France? if the
Huguenots had been able to count on the assistance of the Peninsula?
And what would have happened in Italy, if she had not been held in
respect by the power of Philip? Would not the sectaries of Germany have
succeeded in introducing their errors there? Here I appeal to all men
who are acquainted with history, whether, if Philip had abandoned his
much-decried policy, the Catholic religion would not have run the risk
of finding itself, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, under
the hard necessity of existing only as a tolerated religion in the
generality of the kingdoms of Europe? Now, we know what this toleration
is worth to the Catholic Church; England has told us for centuries;
Prussia shows us at this moment, and Russia adds her testimony in
a manner still more lamentable. Such is the point of view in which
we must consider Philip II. One is forced to allow that, considered
in this way, that prince is a great historical personage,--one of
those who have left the deepest marks on the policy of the age which
followed,--one of those who exert the greatest influence after them on
the course of events.
Spaniards, who anathematize the founder of the Escurial, have you,
then, forgotten our history, or do you esteem it of no value? Do you
stigmatize him as an odious tyrant? Do you not know that, in denying
his glory, in covering it with ignominy, you efface a feature of your
own glory, and throw into the mud the diadem which encircled the brows
of Ferdinand and Isabella? If you cannot pardon Philip II. for having
sustained the Inquisition,--if that reason alone obliges you to load
his name with execration, do the same with his illustrious father,
Charles V.; and, going back to Isabella of Castille, write also on
the list of the tyrants and scourges of humanity that name which
was venerated by both worlds, and which is the emblem of the glory
and power of the Spanish monarchy. They all took part in the fact
which excites your indignation; do not curse some, while you lavish
hypocritical indulgence on the others. If that indulgence is found in
your words, it is that the feeling of nationality which beats in your
bosom compels you to partiality--to inconsistency; you recoil when you
are about to efface the glories of Spain with a stroke of the pen--to
wither all her laurels--to deny your country. We have nothing left,
unfortunately, but great recollections; let us at least avoid despising
them: these recollections are, in a nation, like the titles of ancient
nobility in a fallen family; they raise the mind, they fortify the soul
in adversity; and, nourishing hope in the bottom of the heart, they
serve to prepare what is to come.
The immediate effect of the introduction of Protestantism into Spain
would have been, as in other countries, civil war; and this war
would have been more fatal to us than to other people, because the
circumstances were much more critical for us. The unity of the Spanish
monarchy could not have resisted the shocks and disturbances of
intestine dissension; the different parts were so heterogeneous among
themselves, and were so slightly united, that the least blow would
have parted them. The laws and manners of the kingdoms of Navarre and
Aragon were very different from those of Castille; a lively feeling
of independence, supported by frequent meetings of their own Cortes,
was kept alive in the hearts of those unconquered nations; they would
certainly have availed themselves of the first opportunity to shake
off a yoke which was not pleasing to them. Moreover, in the other
provinces, factions were not wanting to distract the country. The
monarchy would have been miserably divided at a time when it was
necessary to make head in the affairs of Europe, Africa, and America.
The Moors were still in sight of our coasts; the Jews had not had time
to forget Spain: certainly both would have availed themselves of the
conjuncture to raise themselves by means of our discords. On the policy
of Philip depended not only the tranquillity, but perhaps even the
existence of the Spanish monarchy. He is now accused of having been a
tyrant; if he had pursued another course, he would have been taxed with
incapacity and weakness.
One of the most unjust attacks of the enemies of religion against
her friends is, to attribute bad faith to them, to accuse them of
having in every thing false intentions, tortuous and interested views.
When they speak of the Machiavellianism of Philip II., they suppose
that the Inquisition, while apparently only religious in its object,
was, in reality, an obedient instrument of policy in the hands of a
crafty monarch. Nothing is more specious to the man in whose eyes
history is only a matter for piquant and malicious observations; but
nothing is more false according to facts. Some people, seeing in the
Inquisition an extraordinary tribunal, have not been able to imagine
the existence of that exceptional tribunal, without supposing, in the
monarch who sustained and encouraged it, profound reasons, and views
carried much further than appears on the surface of things. They have
not been willing to see that an epoch has its spirit, its own manner
of regarding things, its own system of action, both in doing good
and in preventing evil. During those times, when all the nations of
Europe appealed to fire and sword to decide questions of religion,
when Protestants and Catholics burnt their adversaries, when England,
France, and Germany assisted at the bloodiest scenes, to bring a
heretic to the scaffold was a natural and customary thing, which gave
no shock to prevailing ideas. We feel our hair grow stiff on our heads
at the mere idea of burning a man alive. Placed in society where the
religious sentiment is considerably diminished; accustomed to live
among men who have a different religion, and sometimes none at all; we
cannot bring ourselves to believe that it could be at that time quite
an ordinary thing to see heretics or the impious led to punishment.
But, if we read the authors of the time, we shall see the immense
difference on this point between their manners and ours; and we shall
remark, that our language of moderation and toleration would not even
have been understood by the man of the sixteenth century.
Do you know what Carranza himself, who suffered so much from the
Inquisition, thought of this matter? Every time that he has occasion
to touch on this point in the work which I have quoted, he expresses
the ideas of his time, without even staying to prove them; he gives
them as undoubted principles. In England, with Queen Mary, he did not
fear to express his opinions as to the rigor with which heretics ought
to be treated; and he was certainly far from suspecting that his name
would one day be made use of to attack this intolerance. Kings and
peoples, ecclesiastics and seculars, were all agreed on this point.
What would be said now-a-days of a king who would carry with his own
hands the wood to burn heretics, and would condemn blasphemers to
have their tongues pierced with a hot iron? Now, the first of these
things is related of St. Ferdinand, and we know that the second was
done by St. Louis. We now exclaim in seeing Philip II. assisting at
an _auto-da-fé_; but, if we consider that the court, the great men,
all that was most select in society, surrounded the king on these
occasions, we shall understand that, if this spectacle is horrible
and intolerable to us, it was not so in the eyes of those men, widely
different from us in ideas and feelings. And let it not be said that
they were forced there by the will of the monarch,--that they were
compelled to obey: this was not the effect of the monarch's will; it
was only a consequence of the spirit of the age. No monarch would have
been sufficiently powerful to perform such a ceremony, if the spirit
of the age had been opposed to it; besides, no monarch is so hard and
insensible as not to feel the influence of the times in which he lives.
Suppose the most absolute despot of our time, Napoleon, at the height
of his power, or the present Emperor of Russia, and see whether they
could thus violate the manners of the age.
An anecdote is related which is little adapted to confirm the opinion
of those who assert that the Inquisition was a political instrument in
the hands of Philip. As it paints in a curious and interesting manner
the customs and ideas of the age, I will insert it here. Philip II.
held his court at Madrid; a certain preacher, in a sermon delivered in
presence of the king, advanced, that _sovereigns had an absolute power
over the persons as well as over the property of their subjects_. The
proposition was not of a nature to displease a king; the preacher at
one blow relieved kings from all control over the exercise of their
power. Now, it seems that at that time all men were not in such abject
subjection to despotic control as we have been led to believe; some
one was found to denounce to the Inquisition the words in which the
preacher had not been ashamed to flatter the absolute power of kings.
Surely the orator had chosen a secure asylum; and our readers may well
suppose that this denunciation coming into collision with the power of
Philip, the Inquisition would have maintained a prudent silence. Yet
it was not so: the Inquisition made an inquiry, found the proposition
contrary to sound doctrine, and the preacher, who was perhaps far from
expecting such a reward, had divers penances imposed on him, and was
condemned to retract publicly his proposition in the same place where
he had made it. The retractation took place with all the ceremonies
of a juridical proceeding; the preacher declared that he retracted
his proposition as erroneous; he explained the reasons by reading,
as he had been directed, the following words, well worthy of remark:
"_Indeed, messieurs, kings have no other power over their subjects
than that which is given to them by the divine and human law; they
have none proceeding from their own free and absolute will._" This is
related by D. Antonio Perez, as may be seen at length in the note which
corresponds to the present chapter. We know, moreover, that he was not
a fanatical partisan of the Inquisition.
This took place at the time which some persons never mention without
stigmatizing it with the words obscurantism, tyranny, and superstition.
Yet I doubt whether, at a time nearer to us--that, for example, when it
is asserted that light and liberty dawned on Spain under the reign of
Charles III.--a public and solemn condemnation of despotism would have
been carried so far. This condemnation, at the time of Philip II., did
as much honor to the tribunal which ordered it as to the monarch who
consented to it.
With respect to knowledge, it is a calumny to say that a design was
formed to maintain and perpetuate ignorance. Certainly the conduct
of Philip does not indicate such a design, when we see this prince,
not content with favoring the great enterprise of the Polyglot of
Antwerp, recommending to Arias Montanus to devote to the purchase of
chosen works, printed or manuscript, the money which would revert to
the printer Plantinus, to whom the king had advanced a large sum to
aid in the enterprise. This chosen collection was to be placed in the
library of the monastery of the Escurial, which was then built. The
king had also charged _Don Francis de Alaba, his ambassador in France,
to collect in that kingdom the best books which it was possible for him
to procure_, as he himself says in his letter to Arias Montanus. No;
the history of Spain, with respect to intolerance in religious matters,
is not so black as it has been represented. When foreigners reproach us
with cruelty, we will reply that, when Europe was stained with blood
by civil wars, Spain was at peace. As to the number of persons who
perished on the scaffold or died in exile, we challenge the two nations
who claim to be at the head of civilization, France and England, to
show us their statistics on that subject at the same time, and to
compare them with ours: we do not fear the comparison.
In proportion as the danger of the introduction of Protestantism into
Spain diminished, so did the rigor of the Inquisition. We may observe,
moreover, that the procedure of that tribunal always became milder,
in accordance with the spirit of criminal legislation in the other
countries of Europe. Thus we see the _auto-da-fé_ becoming more rare
as we approach our own times, so that, at the end of the last century,
the Inquisition was only a shadow of what it had been. It is useless
to insist on this point, which nobody denies, and on which we are in
unison with the most ardent enemies of that tribunal; and this it is
which, in our eyes, proves, in the most convincing manner, that we must
seek in the ideas and manners of the time, what people have attempted
to find in the cruelty, in the wickedness, or in the ambition of men.
If the doctrines of those who plead for the abolition of the punishment
of death are carried into effect, posterity, when reading the
executions of our time, will be seized with the same horror with which
we view the punishment of times past, and the gibbet and the guillotine
will figure in the same rank as the ancient Quemaderos.[26]
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THEMSELVES.
Religious institutions are another of those points whereon
Protestantism and Catholicity are in complete opposition to each
other: the first abhors, the second loves them; the one destroys them,
the other establishes and encourages them. One of the first acts of
Protestantism, whenever it is introduced, is to attack religious
institutions by its doctrines and its acts; it labors to destroy them
immediately; one would say that the pretended Reformation cannot behold
without irritation those holy abodes, which continually remind it of
the ignominious apostacy of its founder. Religious vows, especially
that of chastity, have been the subject of the most cruel invectives
on the part of Protestants; but it must be observed, that what is said
now, and what has been repeated for three centuries, is only the echo
of the first voice which was raised in Germany; and what was that
voice? It was the voice of a monk without modesty, who penetrated into
the sanctuary and carried away a victim. All the pomp of learning
employed to combat a sacred dogma is insufficient to hide so impure an
origin. Through the excitement of the false prophet we perceive the
impure flames which devour his heart.
Let us observe in passing, that the same thing took place with respect
to the celibacy of the clergy. Protestants, from the beginning, could
not endure this; they threw off the mask, and condemned it without
disguise; they attempted to combat it with a certain ostentation of
learning; but, at the bottom of all their declamation, what do we find?
The clamor of a priest who has forgotten his duty; who strives against
the remorse of his conscience, and endeavors to hide his shame by
diminishing the horror of the scandal by the allegations of falsehood.
If such conduct had been pursued by the Catholics, all the arms of
ridicule would have been employed to cover them with contempt, to stamp
it, as it deserves, with the brand of infamy; but it was a man who
declared deadly war against Catholicity: that was enough to turn away
the contempt of philosophers, and find indulgence for the declamation
of a monk whose first argument against celibacy was, to profane his
vows and consummate a sacrilege.
The rest of the disturbers of that age imitated the example of
so worthy a master. All demanded and required from Scripture and
philosophy a veil to cover their weakness and baseness. Just
punishment! blindness of the mind was the result of corruption of the
heart; impudence sought and obtained the companionship of error. Never
is the mind more vile than when, to excuse a fault, it becomes the
accomplice of it; then it is not deceived, but prostituted.
This hatred of religious institutions has been inherited by philosophy
from Protestantism. This is the reason why all revolutions, excited and
guided by Protestants or philosophers, have been signalized by their
intolerance towards the institutions themselves, and by their cruelty
towards those who belonged to them. What the law could not do was
completed by the dagger and the torch of the incendiary. What escaped
the catastrophe was left to the slow punishment of misery and famine.
On this point, as well as on many others, it is manifest that the
infidel philosophy is the daughter of the Reformation. It is useless
to seek for a more convincing proof of this than the parallel of the
histories of both, in all that relates to the destruction of religious
institutions; the same flattery of kings, the same exaggeration of the
civil power, the same declamation against the pretended evil inflicted
on society, the same calumnies; we have only to change the names and
the dates. And we must also remark this peculiarity, that, in this
matter, the difference which, apparently, ought to have resulted from
the progress of toleration and the softening of manners in recent
times, has scarcely been felt.
But is it true that religious institutions are as contemptible as
they have been represented? is it true that they do not even deserve
attention, and that all the questions relating to them can be solved
by merely pronouncing the word fanaticism? Does not the man of
observation, the real philosopher, find in them any thing worthy of
attracting his attention? It is difficult to believe that such was the
nullity of these institutions, whose history is so grand, and which
still preserve in their existence the promise of a great future. It is
difficult to believe that such institutions are not worthy of attention
in the highest degree, and that their study is wholly devoid of lively
interest and solid profit. We see them appear at every epoch of Church
history; their memorials and monuments are found every moment under
our feet; they are preserved in the regions of Asia, in the sands of
Africa, in the cities and solitudes of America; in fine, when, after
so much adversity, we see them more or less prosperous in the various
countries of Europe, sending forth again fresh shoots in those lands
where their roots had been the most deeply torn up, there naturally
arises in the mind a spirit of curiosity to examine this phenomenon,
to inquire what is the origin, the genius, and the character of these
institutions. Those who love to descend into the heart of philosophical
questions discover, at first sight, that there must be there an
abundant mine of the most precious information for the science of
religion, of society, and of man. He who has read the lives of the
ancient fathers of the desert without being touched, without feeling
profound admiration, and being filled with grave and lofty thoughts; he
who, treading under his feet with indifference the ruins of an ancient
abbey, has not called up in fancy the shades of the cenobites who lived
and died there; he who passes coldly through the corridors and cells
of convents half-demolished, and feels no recollections, and not even
the curiosity to examine,--he may close the annals of history, and may
cease to study the beautiful and the sublime. There exist for him no
historical phenomena, no beauty, no sublimity; his mind is in darkness,
his heart is in the dust.
With the intention of hiding the intimate connection which subsists
between religious institutions and religion herself, it has been said
that she can exist without them. This is an incontrovertible truth, but
abstract and wholly useless--a barren and isolated assertion, which
can throw no light upon science, nor serve as any practical guide--an
insidious truth, which only tends entirely to change the whole state
of the question, and persuade men that when religious institutions are
concerned, religion has nothing to do with the matter. There is here a
gross sophism, which is too much employed, not only on this question,
but on many others. This consists in replying to all difficulties by
a proposition perfectly true in itself, but which has nothing to do
with the question. By this means, attention is turned another way; the
palpable truth which is presented to the mind makes men wander from the
principal object, and induces them to take that for a solution which
is only a distraction. With respect, for example, to the support of
the clergy and divine worship, it is said, "Temporals are altogether
different from spirituals." When the ministers of religion are
systematically calumniated, "Religion," they say, "is one thing, and
her ministers are another." If it is wished to represent the conduct
of Rome for many centuries as an uninterrupted chain of injustice,
of corruption, and of invasion of right, all reply is anticipated by
saying, "The supremacy of the Sovereign Pontiff has nothing to do with
the vices of Popes or their ambition." Reflections perfectly just, and
truths palpable, no doubt, which are very useful in certain cases,
but which writers of bad faith cunningly employ to conceal from the
reader the real object they have in view. Such are the jugglers who
attract the attention of the simple multitude on one side, while their
companions perform their criminal operations on the other.
Because a thing is not necessary to the existence of another, it does
not follow that the first does not originate in the second,--does not
find in the spirit of the latter its peculiar and permanent existence,
and that a system of intimate and delicate relation does not subsist
between them. The tree can subsist without flowers and fruits; these
can certainly fall without destroying the trunk; but as long as the
tree shall exist, will it ever cease to give proofs of its vigor and
its beauty, and to offer its flowers to the eye, and its fruits to
the taste? The stream may constantly flow in its crystal bed without
the green margin which embellishes its sides; but while its source is
not dried up--as long as the fertilizing water penetrates the ground,
can its favored banks remain dry, barren, without color and ornament?
Let us apply these images to our subject. It is certain that religion
can exist without religious communities, and that their ruin does not
necessarily entail that of religion herself. More than once it has
been seen that in countries where religious institutions have been
destroyed, the Catholic faith has been long preserved. But it is not
less certain, that there is a necessary dependence between them and
religion; that is, that she has given being to them, that she animates
them with her spirit, and nourishes them with her substance: this
is the reason why they immediately germinate wherever the Catholic
faith takes root; and if they have been driven from a country where
she continues to exist, they will reappear. Without alluding to the
examples of other countries, do we not see this phenomenon take place
in France in a remarkable manner? The number of convents of men and
women which are again established on the French soil is already very
considerable. Who would have told the men of the Constituent Assembly,
the Legislative Assembly, the Convention, that half a century should
not elapse without seeing religious institutions reappear and flourish
in France, in spite of all their efforts to destroy even their memory?
"If that happen," they would have said, "it will be because the
revolution which we are making will not be allowed to triumph--because
Europe will have again imposed despotism upon us; then, and then only,
will be witnessed in France--in Paris--in this capital of the Christian
world--the re-establishment of religious institutions, that legacy of
fanaticism and superstition, transmitted to us by the ideas and manners
of an age which has passed away, never to return."
Senseless men! your revolution _has_ triumphed; you _have_ conquered
Europe; the old principles of the French monarchy _have_ been erased
from legislation, institutions, and manners; the genius of war has led
your doctrines in triumph over Europe, and they were gilded by the
rays of your glory. Your principles, all your recollections have again
triumphed at a recent period; they still live in all their force and
pride, personified in some men who glory in being the heirs of what
they call the glorious Revolution of '89; and yet, in spite of so many
triumphs, although your revolution has only receded as much as was
necessary the better to secure its conquests, religious institutions
have again arisen--they extend, they are propagated everywhere, and
they regain an important place in the annals of our times. To prevent
this revival, it would have been necessary to extirpate religion;
it was not enough to persecute her; faith remained like a precious
germ covered by stones and thorns; Providence sends down a ray of
that divine star which softens stones, and gives life and fertility;
the tree rises again in all its beauty, in spite of the ruins which
hindered its growth and development, and its leaves are immediately
covered with charming blossoms:--behold the religious institutions
which you thought were for ever annihilated!
The example which we have just mentioned clearly shows the truth of
what we wish to establish, with respect to the intimate connection
which exists between religion and religious institutions. Church
history furnishes proofs in support of this truth. Besides, the mere
knowledge of religion, and of the nature of the institutions of which
we speak, would suffice to prove it to us, even if we had not history
and experience in our favor.
The force of general prejudice on this subject is such, that it is
necessary to descend to the root of things, to show the complete
mistake of our adversaries. What are religious institutions considered
generally? Putting aside the differences, the changes, the alterations
necessarily produced by variety of times, countries, and other
circumstances, we will say that a religious institute is a society
of Christians living together, under certain rules, for the purpose
of practising the Gospel precepts. We include, in this definition,
even the orders which are not bound by a vow. It will be seen that we
have considered the religious institution in its most general sense,
laying aside all that theologians and canonists say with respect to
the conditions indispensable to constitute or complete its essence. We
must, moreover, observe that we ought not to exclude from the honorable
denomination of religious institutes, those associations which possess
all the conditions except the vows. The Catholic religion is fertile
enough to produce good by means and forms widely different. In the
generality of religious institutions, she has shown us what man can do
by binding himself by a vow, for his whole life, to a holy abnegation
of his own will; but she has also wished to show us that, while leaving
him at liberty, she could attach him by a variety of ties, and make him
persevere until death, as if he had been obliged by a perpetual vow.
The congregation of the oratory of St. Philip Neri, which is found in
this latter category, is certainly worthy of figuring among religious
institutions as one of the finest monuments of the Catholic Church.
I am aware that the vow is comprised in the essence of religious
institutes, as they are commonly understood; but my only object now
is, to vindicate this kind of association against Protestants. Now we
know that they condemn indiscriminately, associations bound by vows
and those which only consist of the permanent and free adhesion of
the persons who compose them. All that has the form of a religious
community is regarded by them with a look of anger. When they
proscribed the religious orders, they included in the same fate those
which had vows and those which had not. Consequently, when defending
them, we must class them together. Moreover, this will not prevent our
considering the vow in itself, and justifying it before the tribunal of
philosophy.
I do not imagine that it is necessary to say more to show that the
object of religious institutions--that is, as we have just said, the
putting in practice of the Gospel counsels--is in perfect uniformity
with the Gospel itself. And let us well observe that, whatever may
be the name, whatever may be the form of the institutions, they have
always for their object something more than the simple observance
of the precepts; the idea of perfection is always included, then,
either in the active or the contemplative life. To keep the Divine
commandments is indispensable to all Christians who wish to possess
eternal life; the religious orders attempt a more difficult path; they
aim at perfection. This is the object of the men who, after having
heard these words from the mouth of their Divine Master: "If you wish
to be perfect, go sell all you have, and give it to the poor," have not
departed sorrowful, like the young man in the Gospel, but have embraced
with courage the enterprise of quitting all and following Jesus Christ.
We have now inquired whether association is the best means to carry
into execution so holy an object. It would be easy for me to show this
by adducing various texts of Scripture, where the true spirit of the
Christian religion, and the will of our Divine Master, are clearly
shown on this point; but the taste of our age, and the self-evidence
even of the truths in question, warn us to avoid, as much as possible,
all that savors of theological discussion. I will remove the question,
then, from this level, to consider it in a light purely historical
and philosophical; that is to say, without accumulating citations and
texts, I will prove that religious institutes are perfectly conformable
to the spirit of the Christian religion; and that consequently that
spirit has been deplorably mistaken by Protestants, when they have
condemned or destroyed them. If philosophers, while they do not admit
the truth of religion, still avow that it is useful and beautiful, I
will prove to them that they cannot condemn those institutions which
are the necessary result of it. In the cradle of Christianity, when men
preserved, in all their energy and purity, the sparks from the tongues
of the Holy Spirit; in those times, when the words and examples of its
Divine Founder were still fresh, when the number of the faithful who
had had the happiness of seeing and hearing Him was still very great in
the Church, we see the Christians, under the direction of the Apostles
themselves, unite, have all their property in common; thus forming only
one family, the Father of which was in heaven, and _which had only one
heart and one soul_.
I will not dispute as to the extent of this primitive proceeding;
I will abstain from analyzing the various circumstances which
accompanied it, and from examining how far it resembled the religious
institutions of latter times; it is enough to state its existence,
and show therefrom what is the true spirit of religion with respect
to the most proper means to realize evangelical perfection. I will
only allude to the fact, that Cassian, in the description which he
gives of the commencement of religious institutions, assigns as their
cradle the proceeding we have just mentioned, and which is reported
in the Acts of the Apostles. According to the same author, this kind
of life was never wholly interrupted; so that there were always some
fervent Christians who continued it; thus attaching, by a continued
chain, the existence of the monks to the primitive associations of
the apostolical times. After having described the kind of life of
the first Christians, and traced the alterations of the times that
followed, Cassian continues thus: "Those who preserved the apostolical
fervor in this way, recalling primitive perfection, quitted towns, and
the society of those who believed that they were allowed to live with
less severity; they began to choose secret and retired places, where
they could follow in private the rules which they remembered to have
been appointed by the Apostles for the whole body of the Church in
general. Thus commenced the formation of the discipline of those who
had quitted that contagion, as they lived separate from the rest of the
faithful; abstaining from marriage, and having no communication with
the world, even with their own families. In the progress of time, the
name of monks was given to them, in consideration of their singular and
solitary life." (_Collat._ 18, cap. 5.)
Times of persecution immediately followed, which, with some
interruptions, that may be called moments of repose, lasted till
the conversion of Constantine. There were, then, during this time,
some Christians who attempted to continue the mode of life of the
apostolical years. Cassian clearly indicates this in the passage
which we have just read. He omits to say that this primitive life was
necessarily modified, in its exterior form, by the calamities with
which the Church was afflicted at that period. In all that time we
ought not to look for Christians living in community; we shall find
them confessing Jesus Christ, with imperturbable calmness, on the rack,
amid all torments, in the circus, where they were torn to pieces by
wild beasts, on the scaffold, where they quietly gave up their heads to
the axe of the executioner. But observe what happened even during the
time of persecution; the Christians, of whom the world was not worthy,
pursued in the towns like wild beasts, wandered about in solitude,
seeking refuge in the deserts. The solitudes of the East, the sand and
rocks of Arabia, the most inaccessible places of the Thebaïd, receive
those troops of fugitives, who dwell in the abodes of wild beasts, in
abandoned graves, in dried-up cisterns, in the deepest caverns, only
asking for an asylum for meditation and prayer. And do you know the
result of this? These deserts, in which the Christians wandered, like
a few grains of sand driven by the wind, became peopled, as it were by
magic, with innumerable religious communities. There they meditated,
prayed, and read the Gospel; hardly had the fruitful seed touched the
earth, when the precious plant arose in a moment.
Admirable are the designs of Providence! Christianity, persecuted in
the towns, fertilizes and embellishes the deserts; the precious grain
requires for its development neither the moisture of the earth nor the
breeze of a mild atmosphere; when carried through the air on the wings
of the storm, the seed loses nothing of its vitality; when thrown on
a rock, it does not perish. The fury of the elements avails nothing
against the work of God, who has made the north wind His courser: the
rock ceases to be barren when He pleases to fertilize it. Did He not
make pure water spring forth at the mysterious touch of His Prophet's
rod?
When peace was given to the Church by the conqueror of Maxentius, the
germs contained in the bosom of Christianity were able to develop
themselves everywhere; from that moment the Church was never without
religious communities. With history in our hands, we may defy the
enemies of religious institutions to point out any period, however
short, when these institutions had entirely disappeared. Under some
form or in some country, they have always perpetuated the existence
which they had received in the early ages of Christianity. The fact
is certain and constant, and is found in every page of ecclesiastical
history; it plays an important part in all the great events in the
annals of the Church. It is found in the west and in the east, in
modern and in ancient times, in the prosperity and in the adversity of
the Church; when the pursuit of religious perfection was an honor in
the eyes of the world, as well as when it was an object of persecution,
raillery, and calumny. What clearer proof can there be that there is
an intimate connection between religious institutions and religion
herself? What more is required to show us that they are her spontaneous
fruit? In the moral and in the physical order of things, the constant
appearance of the one following the other, is regarded as a proof of
the reciprocal dependence of two phenomena. If these phenomena have
towards each other the relations of cause and effect--if we find in
the essence of the one all the principles that are required in the
production of the other, the first is called the cause and the other
the effect. Wherever the religion of Jesus Christ is established,
religious communities are found under some form or other; they are,
therefore, its spontaneous effect. I do not know what reply can be made
to so conclusive an argument.
By viewing the question in this way, the favor and protection which
religious institutions always found with the Pontiff is naturally
explained. It was his duty to act in conformity with the spirit which
animates the Church, of which he is the chief ruler upon earth; it is
certainly not the Pope who has made the regulation, that one of the
means most apt to lead men to perfection is to unite themselves in
associations under certain rules, in conformity with the instructions
of their Divine Master. The Eternal Lord thus ruled in the secrets of
His infinite wisdom, and the conduct of the Popes could not be contrary
to the designs of the Most High. It has been said that interested
views interposed; it has been said that the policy of the Popes found
in these institutions a powerful means of sustaining and aggrandizing
itself. But can you not see any thing but the sordid instruments of
cunning policy in the societies of the primitive faithful, in the
monasteries of the solitudes of the East, in that crowd of institutions
which have had for their object only the sanctification of their own
members and the amelioration of some of the great evils of humanity? A
fact so general, so great, so beneficent, cannot be explained by views
of interest and narrow designs; its origin is higher and nobler; and
he who will not seek for it in heaven ought at least to seek for it in
something greater than the projects of a man or the policy of a court;
he ought to seek for lofty ideas, sublime feelings, capable, if they do
not mount to heaven, at least of embracing a large part of the earth;
nothing less is here required than one of those thoughts which preside
over the destinies of the human race.
Some persons may be inclined to imagine private designs on the part
of the Popes, because they see their authority interfere in all the
foundations of later ages, and their approbation constitute the
validity of the rules of religious institutions; but the course
pursued in this respect by ecclesiastical discipline shows us that
the most active intervention of the Popes, far from emanating from
private views, has been called for by a necessity of preventing an
excessive multiplication of the religious orders in consequence of an
indiscreet zeal. This vigilance in preventing abuses was the origin
of this supreme intervention. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries
the tendency to new foundations was so strong that the most serious
inconveniences would have resulted from it, without a continual
watchfulness on the part of the ecclesiastical authority. Thus we see
the Sovereign Pontiff Innocent III. ordain, in the Council of Lateran,
that whoever wished to found a new religious house shall be bound to
adopt one of the approved rules and institutions.
But let us pursue our design. I can understand how those who deny the
truth of the Christian religion, and turn into ridicule the counsels of
the Gospel, bring themselves to deny all that is celestial and divine
in the spirit of the religious communities; but the truth of religion
once established, I cannot conceive how men who boast of following
its laws can declare themselves the enemies of these institutions
considered in themselves. How can he who admits the principle refuse
the consequence? How can he who loves the cause reject the effect? They
must either affect a religion hypocritically, or they profess without
comprehending it.
In default of any other proof of the anti-evangelical spirit which
guided the leaders of the pretended Reformation, their hatred to an
institution so evidently founded on the Gospel itself should suffice.
Did not these enthusiasts for reading the Bible _without note or
comment_--they who pretend to find all its passages so clear--did they
not remark the plain and easy sense of that multitude of passages which
recommend self-abnegation, the renunciation of all possessions, and the
privation of all pleasures? These words are plain--they cannot be taken
in any other signification--they do not require for their comprehension
a profound study of the sacred sciences, or that of languages; and
yet they have not been heard: we should rather say, they have not
been listened to. The intellect has understood, but the passions have
rejected them.
As to those philosophers who have regarded religious institutions as
vain and contemptible, if not dangerous, it is clear that they have
meditated but little on the human mind, and on the deep feelings of our
hearts, full as they are of mystery. As their hearts have felt nothing
at the sight of those numbers of men and women assembled for the
purpose of sanctifying themselves or others, or of relieving wants,
and consoling the unfortunate, it is but too clear that their souls
have been dried up by the breath of skepticism. To renounce for ever
all the pleasures of life; to live in solitude, there to offer one's
self, in austerity and penance, as a holocaust to the Most High: this,
certainly is a matter of horror to those philosophers who have only
viewed the world through their own prejudices. But humanity has other
thoughts; it feels itself attracted by those objects which philosophers
find so vain, so devoid of interest, so worthy of horror.
Wonderful are the secrets of our hearts! Although enervated by
pleasure, and involved in the whirlwind of amusement and mirth, we
cannot avoid being seized with deep emotion at the sight of austerity
and recollection of soul. Solitude, and even sadness itself, exert
an inexpressible influence over us. Whence comes that enthusiasm
which moves a whole nation, excites and makes it follow, as if by
enchantment, the steps of a man whose brow is marked by recollection,
whose features display austerity of life, whose clothes and manners
show freedom from all that is earthly, and forgetfulness of the world?
Now, it is a fact, proved by the history both of true and of false
religions; so powerful a means of attracting respect and esteem has
not remained unknown to imposture: licentiousness and corruption,
desirous of making their fortunes in the world, have more than once
felt the imperious necessity of disguising themselves under the
mantle of austerity and purity. What at first sight might appear the
most opposed to our feelings, the most repugnant to our tastes--this
shade of sadness diffused over the recollection and solitude of the
religious life--is precisely what enchants and attracts us the most.
The religious life is solitary and pensive; therefore it is beautiful,
and its beauty is sublime. Nothing is more apt than this sublimity to
move our hearts deeply, and make indelible impressions on them. In
reality, our soul has the character of an exile; it is affected by
melancholy objects only; it has not attained to that noisy joy which
requires to borrow a tint of melancholy only for the sake of a happy
contrast. In order to clothe beauty with its most seductive charms, it
is necessary that a tear of anguish should flow from her eyes, that
her forehead should assume an air of sadness, and her cheeks grow
pale with a melancholy remembrance. In order that the life of a hero
excite a lively interest in us, it is requisite that misfortune be his
companion, lamentation his consolation--that disaster and ingratitude
be the reward of his virtues. If you wish that a picture of nature
or art should strongly attract our attention, take possession of and
absorb the powers of our soul, it is necessary that a memorial of the
nothingness of man, and an image of death, should be presented to our
minds; our hearts should be appealed to by the feelings of a tranquil
sadness; we desire to see sombre tints on a monument in ruins--the
cross reminding us of the abode of the dead, the massive walls covered
with moss, and pointing out the ancient dwelling of some powerful man,
who, after having lived on earth for a short time, has disappeared.
Joy does not satisfy us, it does not fill our hearts; it intoxicates
and dissipates them for a few moments; but man does not find there
his happiness, because the joys of earth are frivolous, and frivolity
cannot attach a traveller who, far from his country, walks painfully
through the valley of tears. Thence it comes that, while sorrow and
tears are accepted--we should rather say, are carefully sought for by
art--whenever a deep impression is to be made upon the soul, joy and
smiles are inexorably banished. Oratory, poetry, sculpture, painting,
music, have all constantly followed the same rule; or, rather, have
always been governed by the same instinct. It certainly required a
lofty spirit and a heart of fire to declare _that the soul is naturally
Christian_. In these few words an illustrious thinker has known how to
express all the relations which unite the faith, morality, and counsels
of this divine religion, with all that is most intimate, delicate, and
noble in our hearts. Do you know Christian pensiveness; that grave and
elevated feeling which is painted on the forehead of the Christian,
like a memorial of sorrow on that of an illustrious proscribed one;
this feeling which moderates the enjoyments of life by the image of
the tomb, and lights up the depths of the grave with the rays of hope;
that pensiveness so natural and consoling, so grave and noble, which
causes diadems and sceptres to be trodden under foot like dust, and
the greatness and splendor of the world to be despised as a passing
illusion? This melancholy, carried to its perfection, vivified and
fertilized by grace, and subjected to a holy rule, is what presides
over the foundation of religious institutions, and accompanies them
as long as they preserve their primitive fervor, which they received
from men who were guided by divine light, and animated by the Spirit
of God. This holy melancholy, which carries with it freedom from all
earthly things, is the feeling which the Church wishes to instil into
and preserve in, the religious orders, when she surrounds their silent
abodes with a shade of retirement and meditation.
That amid the fury and the convulsions of parties, a mad and
sacrilegious hand, secretly excited by malice, should plunge a
fratricidal dagger into an innocent heart, or set fire to a peaceful
dwelling, may be conceived; for, unhappily, the history of man abounds
in crimes and frenzies; but that the essence of religious institutions
should be attacked, that their spirit should be considered narrow and
imbecile, that they should be deprived of the noble titles which give
honor to their origin, and the beauties which adorn their history,
can be allowed neither by the intellect nor by the heart. A false
philosophy, which dries up and withers all that it touches, has
undertaken so mad a task. But, setting aside religion and reason,
literature and the fine arts have rebelled against this attempt;
literature and the fine arts, which have need of old recollections,
and which are indebted for their wonders to lofty thoughts, to grave
and noble scenes, and deep and melancholy feelings; literature and the
arts, which delight in transporting the mind of man into regions of
light, in guiding the imagination through new and unknown paths, and in
ruling the heart by mysterious charms.
No; a thousand times no! As long as the religion of that God made man,
who had not where to repose his head, and who sat down by a well on
the wayside to rest, like an humble traveller, shall last; of that
God-man, whose appearance was announced to the nations by a mysterious
voice coming from the desert--by the voice of a man clothed in a
goat-skin, whose reins were bound with a leathern girdle, and who lived
on nothing but locusts and wild honey: as long as this divine religion
shall last, nothing will be more holy or more worthy of our respect
than those institutions, the true and original object of which is to
realize what Heaven intended to teach man by such eloquent and sublime
lessons. Times, vicissitudes, and revolutions, succeed each other; the
institution will change its form, will undergo alterations, will be
affected more or less by the weakness of men, by the corrosive action
of time, and the destructive power of events; but it will live--it will
never perish. If one society rejects it, it will seek an asylum in
another; driven from towns, it will take refuge in forests; if there
pursued, it will flee to the horrors of the desert. There will always
be, in some privileged hearts, an echo for the voice of that sublime
religion, which, holding in her hand a standard of sorrow and love--the
sacred standard of the sufferings and death of the Son of God--the
Cross, will proclaim to men: "Watch and pray, that you enter not into
temptation; if you assemble to pray, the Lord will be in the midst of
you; all flesh is but grass; life is a dream; above your heads is an
ocean of light and happiness; under your feet an abyss; your life on
earth is a pilgrimage, an exile." Then she marks his forehead with the
mysterious ashes, telling him, "Thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt
return."
We shall perhaps be asked why the faithful cannot practise evangelical
perfection while living in the bosom of their families, without
assembling in communities? We shall reply, that we have no intention
of denying the possibility of that practice, even in the midst of the
world; and we willingly acknowledge that a great number of Christians
have done so at all times, and do so now; but this does not prove that
the surest and easiest means is not that of the life in community with
others who have the same object in view, and in retirement from all
the things of this world. Laying aside for a moment all consideration
of religion, are you not aware of the ascendency which the spirit of
repeated examples exerts on those with whom we live? Do you not know
how easily our spirit fails when we find ourselves alone in a difficult
enterprise? Do you not know that, in the greatest misfortunes, it is a
consolation to behold others participate in our sorrows? On this point,
as well as on all others, religion accords with sound philosophy, and
both unite in explaining to us the profound meaning contained in those
words of Scripture: "_Væ soli! Wo to him who is alone!_"
Before concluding this chapter, I wish to say a few words on the vows
which commonly accompany religious institutes. Perhaps they are one
of the principal causes of the violent antipathy of Protestantism
against these institutions. Vows render things fixed and stable; and
the fundamental principle of Protestantism does not admit of fixity
or stability. Essentially separating and anarchical, this principle
rejects unity and destroys the hierarchy; dissolving in its nature,
it allows the mind neither to remain in a permanent faith nor to be
subject to rule. For if virtue itself is only a vague entity, which
has no fixed foundation--a being which is fed on illusions, and which
cannot endure the application of any certain and constant rule, this
holy necessity of doing well, of constantly walking in the path
of perfection, must be incomprehensible to it, and in the highest
degree repugnant; this necessity must appear to it inconsistent with
liberty; as if man, by binding himself by a vow, lost his free will;
as if the sanction which a promise given to God imparts to a design,
at all diminished the merit of him who has the firmness necessary to
accomplish what he had the courage to promise.
Those who, to condemn this necessity which man imposes on himself,
invoke the rights of liberty against it, seem to forget that this
effort of man to make himself the slave of good, and secure his own
future, besides the sublime disinterestedness which it supposes, is the
vastest exercise which man can make of his liberty. By one act alone,
he disposes of his whole life, and by fulfilling the duties resulting
from that act, he continually fulfils his own will. But we shall be
told that man is so inconstant: this is the reason why, in order to
prevent the effects of this inconstancy, he finds himself penetrating
into the vicissitudes of the future, renders himself superior to them,
and governs them in advance. But, it will be said, in that case, good
is done from necessity: this is true; but do you not know that the
necessity of doing good is a happy one, and in some measure assimilates
man with God? Do you not know that Infinite Goodness is incapable of
doing evil, and Infinite Holiness can do nothing that is not holy?
Theologians explain why a created being is capable of sinning by
pointing out this profound reason. "It is," they say, "because the
creature is made out of nothing." When man forces himself, as far as
he can, to do well, when he thus fetters his will, he ennobles it, he
renders himself more like to God, he assimilates himself to the state
of the blessed, who have no longer the melancholy liberty of doing
evil, and who are under the happy necessity of loving God.
The name of liberty, from the time when Protestants and false
philosophers took possession of it, seems condemned to be ill
understood in all its applications. In the religious, moral, social,
and political order, it is enveloped in such obscurity, that we
can perceive the many efforts which have been made to darken and
misrepresent it. Cicero gives an admirable definition of liberty when
he says, that it consists in being the slave of law. In the same
way it may be said, that the liberty of the intellect consists in
being the slave of truth; and the liberty of the will in being the
slave of virtue; if you change this, you destroy liberty. If you take
away the law, you admit force; if you take away the truth, you admit
error; if you take away virtue, you admit vice. If you venture to
exempt the world from the external law, from that law which embraces
man and society, which extends to all orders, which is the divine
wisdom applied to reasonable creatures; if you venture to seek for an
imaginary liberty out of that immense circle, you destroy all; there
remains in society nothing but the empire of brute force, and in man
that of the passions; with tyranny, and consequently slavery.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN HISTORY.--THE FIRST SOLITARIES.
I have just examined religious institutions in a general point of view,
by considering them in their relations with religion and the human
mind. I am now going to take a glance at the principal points of their
history. This examination, I think, will show us an important truth:
viz. that the appearance of these institutions under different forms
has been the expression and the fulfilment of great moral necessities,
and a powerful means, in the hands of Providence, of promoting not
only the spiritual good of the Church, but also the salvation and
regeneration of society. It will be understood that it is not possible
for me to enter into details, or pass in review the numerous religious
institutions which have existed; besides, this is not necessary for my
object. I shall limit myself, therefore, to running over the principal
phases of religious institutes, and making a few remarks on each of
them; I shall act like the traveller who, being unable to make a stay
in the country through which he passes, looks at it for a short time
from the highest points. I will begin with the solitaries of the East.
The Colossus of the Roman Empire threatened an approaching and stunning
fall: the spirit of life was rapidly becoming extinguished, and
there was no longer any hope of a breath to reanimate it. The blood
circulated slowly in its veins; the evil was incurable: the symptoms of
corruption everywhere manifested themselves, and this agony was exactly
coincident with the critical and formidable hour when it was necessary
to collect all its forces to resist the violent shock which was about
to destroy it. The barbarians appeared on the frontiers of the empire,
like the carnivorous animals attracted by the exhalations of a dead
body; and at this crisis society found itself on the eve of a fearful
catastrophe. All the world was about to undergo an alarming change; the
next day was not likely to resemble the last; the tree was about to be
torn up; but its roots were too deep for it to be extirpated without
changing the whole face of the soil where it was planted. The greatest
refinement had to contend with barbarian ferocity,--the effeminate
luxury of southern nations with the energy of the robust sons of
the forest; the result of the struggle could not be doubtful. Laws,
customs, manners, monuments, arts and sciences,--all the civilization
and refinement acquired during the course of many ages was all in
peril, all foreboded approaching ruin, all understood that God had
appointed an end to the power, and even the existence of the rulers of
the globe. The barbarians were only the instrument of Providence; the
hand which had given a mortal blow to the mistress of the world, the
queen of nations, was that formidable hand which touches mountains with
fire, and reduces them to ashes, which touches the rocks and melts them
like metal; it was the hand of Him who sends forth His fiery breath
upon the nations, and burns them up like straw.
The world must be the prey of chaos for a short time; but was not light
again to come upon it? Was mankind to be melted, like gold in the
furnace, in order to come out more brilliant and more pure? Were ideas
respecting God and man to be corrected? Were more delicate and exalted
notions of morality to be diffused? Was it reserved for the heart of
man to receive more grave and sublime inspirations, to emerge from its
corrupt state, and live in an atmosphere higher and more worthy of an
immortal being? Yes! Providence thus decreed, and His infinite wisdom
has brought about this end by ways which man could not understand.
Christianity was already spread over the face of the world; her
holy doctrines, rendered fruitful by grace, prepared the complete
regeneration of the world; but it was necessary that mankind should
again receive a new impulse from her divine hands, that the mind of
man should be moved by a new shock, that it might take its proper
flight, and raise itself at once to the exalted position which was
intended for it, and from which it was never to descend. History tells
us of the obstacles which opposed the establishment and development
of Christianity. According to the warlike expression of the Prophet,
God was compelled to assume His sword and buckler; by the strength of
wonderful prodigies, He broke the resistance of the passions, destroyed
every knowledge which raised itself against the knowledge of God,
scattered all the powers which rebelled against Him, and extinguished
the pride and obstinacy of hell. When, after three centuries of
persecution, victory declared itself throughout the world in favor of
the true religion; when the temples of the false gods were deserted,
and those idols which were not yet overthrown trembled on their
pedestals; when the sign of Calvary was inscribed on the Labarum of
the Cæsars, and the legions of the empire bowed religiously before
the Cross, then had the moment arrived for Christianity to realize,
in a permanent manner, in those sublime institutions conceived and
established by herself alone, the lofty counsels given three centuries
before in Palestine. The wisdom of philosophers had been vain; the time
was come to realize the wisdom of the Carpenter of Nazareth, of Him
who, without having consulted human learning, had proclaimed and taught
truths unknown to the most privileged of mortals.
The virtues of the Christians had already emerged from the obscurity of
the catacombs; they were to be resplendent in the light of heaven and
amid peace, as they had formerly shone in the depths of dungeons and
amid the flames. Christianity had obtained possession of the sceptre
of command, as of the domestic hearth; her disciples, who now were
multitudinous, no longer lived in a community of goods; it is clear
that entire continence, and complete freedom from all earthly things,
could no longer be the mode of life of the regenerated families. The
world was to continue; the duration of the human race was not to cease
at this point of its career; therefore, all Christians were not to
observe the lofty counsels which convert the life of man on earth into
the angelic. A great number of them were to belong to those who, in
order to obtain eternal life, were satisfied with keeping the precepts,
without aspiring to the sublime perfection which results from the
renouncement of all that is earthly, and the complete abnegation of
self. Yet the Founder of the Christian religion was unwilling that
the counsels which He had given to men should be for a moment without
some disciples amid the coldness and dissipation of the world. He had
not given them in vain; and, besides, the practice of them, although
confined to a limited number of the faithful, exerted on all sides a
beneficent influence which facilitated and secured the observance of
the precepts. The force of example exerts so powerful an ascendency
over the human heart, that it is often sufficient of itself to
triumph over the strongest and most obstinate resistance; there is
something in our hearts which inclines them to sympathize with all that
approaches them, whether good or evil; and there seems to be a secret
stimulus urging us to follow others, whatever direction they may take.
Therefore it is that there are so many advantages in the establishment
of religious institutions, in which the virtues and austerity of life
are given as an example to the generality of men, and make an eloquent
reproach to the errors of passion.
Providence desired to attain this great end by singular and
extraordinary means; the Spirit of God breathed on the earth, and
immediately the men and power to commence this great work appeared.
The frightful deserts of Thebaïd, the burning solitudes of Arabia,
Palestine, and Syria, show us men rudely clad, with a mantle of
goat-skin on their shoulders, and a plain cowl on their heads: behold
all the luxury with which they confound the vanity and pride of
worldlings! Their bodies, exposed to the rays of the most burning sun
and the most severe cold, besides being attenuated by long fasts,
resemble walking spectres who have arisen from the dust of their
sepulchres. The herbs of the earth are their only food, water their
only drink; the labor of their hands procures for them the scanty
resources they require. Under the direction of a venerable old man,
whose claims to rule are a long life passed in the desert, and hairs
grown white amid privations and austerities, they constantly keep
the profoundest silence; their lips are opened only to pronounce the
words of prayer; their voice is only heard to intone a hymn of praise
to God. For them the world has ceased to exist; the relations of
friendship, the sweet ties of family and relationship, are all broken
by a spirit of perfection, carried to an extent which surpasses all
earthly considerations. The cares of property do not disturb them;
before retiring to the desert, they have abandoned all to him who was
to succeed them; or they have sold all they had, and given the price to
the poor. The Holy Scriptures are the nourishment of their minds; they
learn by heart the words of that divine book; they meditate on them
unceasingly, beseeching the Lord to grant that they may understand them
aright. In their retired meetings, nothing is heard but the voice of
some venerable cenobite, explaining with naïve simplicity and touching
unction the sense of the sacred text; but always in such a way as to
draw profit for the purification of souls.
The number of these solitaries was so great that we could not credit
it, if it were not vouched for by eye-witnesses worthy of the highest
respect. As to their sanctity, spirit of penance, and purity of life,
we cannot doubt them after the testimonies of Rufinus, Palladius,
St. Jerome, St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and all the other
illustrious men who distinguished themselves at that time. The fact
is singular, extraordinary, prodigious; but no one can question its
historical truth; it is attested by all who came to the desert from
all parts to seek for light in their doubts, cures for their evils,
and pardon for their sins. I could quote a thousand authorities to
prove what I have said; but I will content myself with one, which shall
suffice for all--that of St. Augustine. Hear how this holy doctor
describes the life of these extraordinary men: "These fathers, not only
very holy in their manners, but very learned in the Christian doctrine,
excellent men in all respects, do not govern with pride those whom they
justly call their sons, on account of the high authority of those who
command, and the ready will of those who obey. At the decline of day,
one of them, still fasting, quits his habitation, and all assemble to
hear their master. Each of these fathers _has at least three thousand
under his direction; for the number is sometimes much greater_. They
listen with incredible attention, in profound silence, manifesting
by their groans, or tears, or by their modest and tranquil joy, the
various feelings which the discourse excites in their souls." (St.
Augustin. lib. 1, _De Moribus Ecclesiæ_, cap. 31.)
But it will be said, Of what use were these men, except for their own
sanctification? what good did they do to society? what influence did
they exert on ideas? what change did they make in manners? If we admit
that this plant of the desert was beautiful and fragrant, yet what did
it avail? it remained sterile. It certainly would be an error to think
that so many thousands of solitaries did not exercise great influence.
In the first place, and to speak only of what relates to ideas, we must
observe, that the monasteries of the East arose within reach, and under
the eyes of, the schools of philosophy. Egypt was the country where the
cenobitic life flourished the most. Now every one is aware of the high
renown which the schools of Alexandria enjoyed a short time before.
On all sides of the Mediterranean--on that border of land which,
beginning in Libya, terminates in the Black Sea--men's minds were at
that time in a state of extraordinary motion. Christianity and Judaism,
the doctrines of the East and those of the West--all was collected
and accumulated in this part of the world; the remains of the ancient
schools of Greece were formed of the treasures, which the course of
ages and the passage of the most famous nations of the earth had
brought to those countries. New and gigantic events were come to throw
floods of light upon the character and the value of ideas; minds had
felt shocks which did not allow them any longer to be contented with
the quiet lessons contained in the dialogues of the ancient masters.
From these famous countries came the most eminent men of the early ages
of Christianity; and we know from their works the extent and elevation
of mind which man had attained at that time. Was it possible that a
phenomenon so extraordinary--a girdle of monasteries and hermitages,
embracing this zone of the world, and showing themselves in the face of
the schools of philosophy--should not exert great influence on men's
minds? The ideas of the solitaries passed incessantly from the desert
into the towns; since, in spite of all the care which they took to
avoid the contact of the world, the world sought and approached them,
and continually came to receive their inspirations.
When we see the nations crowd to the solitaries the most eminent for
their sanctity, to implore from their wisdom a remedy for suffering
and a consolation in misfortunes; when we see these venerable men
impart, together with the unction of the Gospel, the sublime lessons
which they had learned during long years of meditation and prayer in
the silence of solitude, it is impossible not to understand how much
these communications must have contributed to correct and elevate ideas
relating to religion and morality, and to amend and purify morals.
Let us not forget that the human mind was, as it were, materialized
by the corruption and grossness of the pagan religion. The worship of
nature, of sensible forms, was so deeply rooted that, in order to raise
minds to the conception of superior things, a strong and extraordinary
reaction was required; it was necessary in some measure to annihilate
matter in order to present to man only the mind. The life of the
solitaries was the best adapted to produce this effect. In reading the
history of these times, we seem to find ourselves transported out of
this world; the flesh has disappeared, and there remains nothing but
the spirit; and the force which has been employed in order to subdue
the flesh is such--they have insisted so much on the vanity of earthly
things--that reality itself is changed into illusion, and the physical
world vanishes to make way for the moral and intellectual; all the ties
of earth have been broken; man puts himself in intimate communication
with Heaven. Miracles multiply exceedingly in these lives; apparitions
continually appear; the abodes of the solitaries are arenas where
earthly means are nothing; good angels struggle against demons, heaven
against hell, God against Satan: the earth is there only to serve as
a field of battle; the body exists no longer except to be consumed as
a holocaust on the altars of virtue, in the presence of the demon who
struggles furiously to render it the slave of vice.
What has become of the idolatrous worship which Greece paid to
sensible forms, that adoration which it offered to nature by deifying
all that was delicious and beautiful, all that could interest the
senses and the heart? What a profound change! the same senses are
subjected to the most severe privations; they are most strictly
circumcised in heart; and man, who then scarcely attempted to raise
his mind above the earth, now keeps it constantly fixed on Heaven. It
is impossible to form an idea of what we are attempting to describe,
without having read the lives of these solitaries; to understand all
the effect of their great prodigies, it is necessary to have spent many
hours over these pages, where, so to speak, nothing is found which
follows the natural course of things. It is not enough to imagine pure
lives, austerities, visions, and miracles; it is necessary to see all
this collected together, and carried to the most wonderful extent in
the path of perfection.
If you refuse to acknowledge the action of grace in facts so
surprising; if you will not see any supernatural effect in this
religious movement; I say more, if you go so far as to suppose that the
mortification of the flesh and the elevation of the soul are carried
to blamable exaggeration, still you cannot help allowing that such a
reaction was very likely to spiritualize ideas, to awaken the moral and
intellectual forces in man, and to concentrate all within himself, by
giving him the sentiment of that interior, intimate, and moral life,
with which, until then, he had not been occupied. The forehead which,
till then, had been bent towards the earth, was raised towards the
Divinity; something nobler than material enjoyments was offered to the
mind, and the brutal excesses authorized by the example of the false
divinities of paganism, at length appeared an offence against the high
dignity of human nature.
In the moral order, the effect must have been immense. Man, until then,
had not even imagined that it was possible to resist the impetuosity
of his passions. There were found, it is true, in the cold morality of
a few philosophers, certain maxims intended to restrain the dangerous
passions; but this morality was only in the books, the world did not
regard it as practicable, and if some men attempted to realize it,
they did so in such a manner that, far from giving it credit, they
rendered it contemptible. What did it avail to abandon riches and
profess freedom from all earthly things, as some philosophers did, if
at the same time they appeared so vain, so full of themselves, that it
was evident that they only sacrificed on the altar of pride? It was to
overturn all the idols in order to place themselves on the altar, and
reign there without rival gods; this was not to direct the passions, to
subject them to reason, but to create a monster passion surpassing and
devouring all. Humility, the foundation-stone whereon the solitaries
raised the edifice of their virtue, placed them immediately in a
position infinitely superior to that of the ancient philosophers who
were distinguished for a life more or less severe. In fine, men were
taught to avoid vice and practise virtue, not for the futile pleasure
of being regarded and admired, but for superior motives founded on the
relations of man with God, and the destinies of eternity. From that
moment man knew that it was not impossible for him to triumph over
evil, in the obstinate struggle which he felt continually going on
within himself. At the sight of so many thousands of persons of both
sexes who followed a rule of life so pure and austere, mankind took
fresh courage, and were convinced that the paths of virtue were not
impracticable for them.
The generous confidence with which man was inspired by the sight of
such sublime examples, lost nothing of its strength in presence of the
Christian dogma, which does not allow actions meritorious of eternal
life to be attributed to man himself, and teaches him the necessity of
divine aid, if he wishes to escape the paths of perdition. This dogma,
which, on the other hand, accords so well with the daily lessons of
experience as to human frailty, far from destroying the strength of the
mind or diminishing its courage, on the contrary, animates it more and
more to persevere in spite of all obstacles. When man thinks himself
alone, when he does not feel himself supported by the powerful hand
of Providence, he walks with the tottering steps of infancy; he wants
confidence in himself, in his own strength; the object he has in view
seems too distant, the enterprise too arduous, and he is discouraged.
The dogma of grace, as it is explained by the Catholic Church, is not
that fatalist doctrine, the mother of despair, which has hardened the
heart among Protestants, as Grotius laments. It is a doctrine which,
leaving man all his free will, teaches him the necessity of superior
aid; but that aid will be abundantly furnished him by the infinite
goodness of God, who has shed His blood for him in torments and
ignominy, and has breathed out for him His last sigh on Mount Calvary.
It seems as if Providence had been pleased to choose a climate where
mankind could make a trial of their strength vivified and sustained by
grace. It was under a sky apparently the most fatal for the corruption
of the soul, in countries where the relaxation of the body naturally
leads to relaxation of mind, and where even the air that they breathed
inclined to pleasure,--it was there that the greatest energy of mind
was displayed, that the greatest austerities were practised, and the
pleasures of the senses were proscribed and banished with the greatest
severity. The solitaries fixed their abodes in deserts within the
influence of the balmy breezes of the neighboring lands; from their
mountains and sandy hills their eyes could distinguish the peaceful
and smiling countries which invited to pleasure and enjoyment; like
the Christian virgin who abandoned her obscure cave to go and place
herself in the hollow of a rock, whence she saw the palace of her
fathers overflowing with riches, pleasures, and delights, while she
herself lamented like a solitary dove in the holes of the rock. From
that time all climates were good for virtue; austerity of morals did
not at all depend on the proximity of the equatorial line; the morality
of man, like man himself, could live in all climates. When the most
perfect continence was practised in so wonderful a manner under the
sky which we have described, the monogamy of Christianity could well
be established and preserved. When, in the secrets of the Eternal,
the time had arrived for calling a people to the light of truth, it
mattered not whether they lived amid the snows of Scandinavia, or on
the burning plains of India. The spirit of the divine laws was not to
be confined within the narrow circle which the _Esprit des Lois_ of
Montesquieu has attempted to assign it.
CHAPTER XL.
ON RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE EAST.
The influence exercised by the lives of the solitaries of the East over
religion and morality is beyond a doubt; in truth it is not easy to
appreciate it in all its extent and in all its effects; but it is not
the less true and real on that account. It has not marked the doctrines
of humanity like those thundering events the effects of which are
often inadequate to their promises; but it is like a beneficial rain
which, diffusing itself gently over the thirsty earth, fertilizes the
meadows and the fields. If it were possible for man to comprehend and
distinguish the vast assemblage of causes which have contributed to
raise his mind, to give him a lively consciousness of his immortality,
and to render a return to his ancient degradation almost impossible,
perhaps it would be found that the wonderful phenomenon of the Eastern
solitaries had a considerable share in that immense change. Let us
not forget that from thence did the great men of the East receive
their inspiration; St. Jerome lived in a cave at Bethlehem, and the
conversion of St. Augustine was accompanied by a holy emulation excited
in his mind by reading the life of St. Anthony the Abbot.
The monasteries which were founded in the East and West in imitation
of these early establishments of the solitaries, were a continuation
of them, although with many differences, in consequence of times and
circumstances. Thence came the Basils, the Gregories, the Chrysostoms,
and so many distinguished men, the glory of the Church. If a miserable
spirit of dispute, ambition, and pride, sowing the seeds of discord,
had not prepared the rupture which was to deprive the East of the
vivifying influence of the Roman See, perhaps the ancient monasteries
of the East would have served, like those of the West, to prepare a
social regeneration, by forming one people out of the conquerors and
the conquered.
It is evident that the want of unity was one of the causes of the
weakness of the East; I will not deny that their position was very
different from ours; the enemy opposed to them did not at all resemble
the barbarians of the North; but I am not sure that it was easier to
subdue the latter than it was to rule the nations by whom the East
was conquered. In the East, the victory remained with the aggressors,
as with us; but a conquered nation is not dead; its defeat does not
take from it all the great advantages which are able, by giving it a
moral ascendency over the conquerors, to prepare, in silence, their
transformation, if not their expulsion. The northern barbarians
conquered the South of Europe; but the South, in its turn, triumphed
over them by the Christian religion; the barbarians were not driven
out, but they were transformed. Spain was conquered by the Arabs, and
the Arabs could not be transformed; but they were driven out in the
end. If the East had preserved unity, if Constantinople and the other
episcopal sees had remained subject to Rome like those of the West; in
a word, if all the East had been contented to be a member of a great
body, instead of having the ambitious pretensions of being a great body
itself, I consider it certain that, after the conquest of the Saracens,
a struggle, at once intellectual, moral, and physical, would have been
engaged in; a profound change would have been worked in the conquered
nation, or the struggle would have ended by the conquering barbarians
being driven back to their deserts.
It will be said that the transformation of the Arabs was the work of
ages. But was not that of the barbarians of the North so likewise?
Was this great work finished by their conversion to Christianity? A
considerable part of them were Arians; and besides, they understood
the Christian ideas so ill, they found the practice of Gospel morality
so difficult, that for a long time it was almost as difficult to treat
with them as with nations of a different religion. On the other hand,
let us not forget that the irruption of the barbarians was not a
solitary event; an event which, when once finished, did not recur; it
was continued for ages. But the force of the religious principle in the
West was such, that all the invading nations were compelled to retire,
or were forced to bend to the ideas and manners of the countries
they had recently acquired. The defeat of the hordes of Attila, the
victories of Charlemagne over the Saxons and the other nations beyond
the Rhine, the successive conversion of the various idolatrous nations
of the North by means of the missionaries sent from Rome,--in fine, the
vicissitudes and the final result of the invasions of the Normans, and
the ultimate triumph of the Christians of Spain over the Moors after
a war of eight centuries, are so many decisive proofs of what I have
just laid down--viz. that the West, vivified and fortified by Catholic
unity, had had the secret of assimilating and appropriating to itself
all that it was not able to reject, and the force to reject all that it
could not make its own.
This is what was wanting in the East: the enterprise was not more
difficult there than in the West. If the West alone was able to
liberate the Holy Sepulchre, the West and East together would never
have lost it; or, at least, after having freed it, they would have kept
it for ever. The same cause prevented the monasteries of the East from
attaining to the same vitality and energy which distinguished those of
the West; therefore, they have always been seen to grow weak with time,
without producing any thing great, and capable of preventing social
dissolution, of silently preparing and slowly elaborating regeneration
for posterity, after the calamities with which it pleased Providence
to afflict ancient times. He who has seen in history the brilliant
commencement of the Eastern monasteries, cannot behold without pain the
decline of their strength and splendor in the course of ages, after the
ravages caused by invasion, wars, and finally, the deadly influence
of the schism of Constantinople; the ancient abodes of so many men
illustrious for science and sanctity gradually disappeared from the
page of history like expiring lamps, or the dying fires of an abandoned
camp.
Immense injury was done to all the branches of human knowledge by
this decline, which, after having rendered the East barren, ended by
destroying it. If we pay attention, we shall see that, amid the great
shocks and revolutions which disturbed Europe, Africa, and Asia, the
natural refuge for the remains of ancient knowledge, was not the West,
but the East. It was not in our monasteries that the books, and other
intellectual riches, of which quieter and happier generations were one
day to enjoy the benefit, should naturally have been preserved; this,
it would seem, belonged to the monasteries of the eastern countries;
those lands, where the most different civilizations were brought
together and commingled as on neutral ground; those regions, where the
human mind had displayed the greatest activity, and taken the highest
flights; where the most abundant treasures of tradition and sciences,
and the beauties of art were accumulated; in a word, it was in this
vast mart of all the riches of the civilization and refinement of
all nations,--it was in this sanctuary and museum of antiquity, that
the intellectual patrimony of future generations ought to have been
preserved.
Let it not, however, be supposed that the monasteries of the East were
of no service to the human mind; the science and literature of Europe
are still mindful of the impulse which was communicated to them, by
the arrival of the precious materials thrown upon the coasts of Italy,
after the taking of Constantinople: but even these riches, brought
to Europe by a few men, driven upon our shores by a tempest, came to
us, like the remains of a shipwrecked crew, who, after having with
difficulty saved their lives from the fury of the waves, have only
preserved in their benumbed hands some gold and a few precious stones.
For this reason, precisely, do we lament, because from the example
we have adduced, we are enabled the better to understand the immense
riches of the vessel which was lost; this makes us grieve the more
bitterly that the early times of the illustrious cenobites of the East
have not been brought down to our day by a continued chain. When we
see their works overflow with sacred and profane learning, when their
labors show us proofs of indefatigable activity, we think with sorrow
of the inestimable treasures which their libraries must have contained.
Yet, in spite of the justness of the melancholy reflections we have
here made, it must be allowed that the influence of these monasteries
never ceased to be extremely useful to the preservation of knowledge.
The Arabs, in the times of their success, showed themselves to
be intelligent and cultivated; and Europe, in many respects, is
indebted to them for much advancement. Bagdad and Grenada, during the
middle ages, are two brilliant centres of intellectual movement and
art, which serve not a little to diminish the sombre effect of the
barbarities of Islamism: they are two tranquil and pleasing features
in a frightful picture. If it were possible to follow the history of
intellectual development among the Arabs, through the transformations
and catastrophes of the East, perhaps we should find in the sciences
of the nations which they conquered or destroyed the origin of much
of their progress. It is certain that their own civilization did not
contain any vital principle favorable to the development of the mind;
we have a proof of this in their religious and social organization,
and in the small results which they obtained, after having been for so
many centuries peacefully established in the conquered countries. Their
whole system, with respect to letters and intellectual cultivation,
is founded on that stupid maxim, uttered by one of their chiefs, when
he condemned an immense library to the flames: "If these books are
contrary to the Alcoran, they should be burnt as pernicious; if they
are not contrary to it, they should be burnt as useless."
We read in Palladius, that the monks of Egypt did not content
themselves with working with rude and simple objects, but that they
devoted themselves to labors of all kinds. These thousands of men, who,
belonging to all classes and to all countries, embraced the solitary
life, must have brought to the desert a large treasure of knowledge.
We know how far the human mind can go when left to itself, and applied
to a fixed occupation; there is always some reason for thinking that a
great part of the valuable ideas on the secrets of nature, the utility
and properties of certain ingredients, the principles of some of the
arts and sciences, knowledge which formed the rich patrimony of the
Arabs at the time when they appeared in Europe, were nothing but the
remains of ancient learning, gathered by them in countries which had
formerly been inundated by men from all parts. We must remember that at
the time of the first invasions of the northern barbarians, when Spain,
the south of France, Italy, the north of Africa, and all the islands
adjacent to these countries, were ravaged by these terrible men, the
East became a refuge, an asylum, for all those who could undertake the
voyage. Thus the treasures of Western science accumulated every day
in these countries; this emigration from all the Western regions may
have contributed, in an extraordinary manner, to convey to the East the
remains of ancient knowledge, which afterwards came to us transformed
and disfigured by the hands of the Arabs.
Deeply convinced of the nothingness of the world by so long a
succession of heavy misfortunes, these unfortunate men felt the
religious sentiment strengthened in their hearts; the fugitives
assembled in the East listened with lively emotion to the energetic
words of the solitary of the cave of Bethlehem. A great many of them
retired into the monasteries, where they found relief for their wants,
and consolation for their souls; thus did the Eastern monasteries gain
a great addition of valuable knowledge and information of all sorts.
If European civilization one day become complete mistress of the
countries which now groan under the Mussulman yoke, perhaps it will
be given to the history of science to add a noble page to its labors,
when, through the obscurities of the times, and by means of manuscripts
discovered by curiosity or chance, she shall have found the thread
which shall lead to a knowledge of the connection of Arabian science
with that of antiquity. The succession of transformations will then be
displayed, and we shall understand how the science of the sons of Omar
has appeared to have a different origin in our eyes. The archives of
Spain contain, in documents relating to the dominion of the Saracens,
riches, the examination of which may be said not yet to be commenced;
perhaps they will throw some light on this point. There is no doubt
that they afford matter for careful investigation, extremely curious
for appreciating these two very different civilizations, the Mohammedan
and the Christian.
CHAPTER XLI.
OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WEST.
Let us now examine religious institutions, such as they appear in the
West, but laying aside those which, although established in various
parts of the West, were only a sort of ramification of the Eastern
monasteries. We observe that the religious establishments among us
added to the Gospel spirit, the principle of their foundation, a
new character, that of conservative, restorative, and regenerative
associations. The monks of the West were not content with sanctifying
themselves; from the first they influenced society. The light and
life which their holy abodes contained, labored to enlighten and
fertilize the chaos of the world. I do not know in history a nobler
or more consoling spectacle than that which is presented to us by the
foundation, existence, and development of the religious institutions
of Europe. Society had need of strong efforts to preserve its life
in the terrible crisis through which it had to pass. The secret of
strength is in the union of individual forces, in association; and it
is remarkable that this secret has been taught to European society as
if by a revelation from heaven. Every thing shakes, falls to pieces,
and perishes. Religion, morality, public authority, laws, manners,
sciences, and arts--every thing has sustained immense losses, every
thing goes to ruin; and judging of the future fate of the world
according to human probabilities, the evils are so great and numerous
that a remedy appears impossible.
The observer who, fixing his eyes upon those desolate times,
finds there St. Bennet giving life to and animating the religious
institutions, organizing them, giving them his wise rule and stability,
imagines that he sees an angel of light issuing from the bosom of
darkness. Nothing can be imagined better calculated to restore to
dissolved society a principle of life capable of reorganizing it, than
the extraordinary and sublime inspiration which guided this man. Who
does not know what at that time was the condition of Italy--I should
rather say, of the whole of Europe? What ignorance, what corruption,
what elements of social dissolution! What desolation everywhere! and it
is amid this deplorable state of things that the holy solitary appears,
the child of an illustrious family of Norcia, resolved to combat the
evil which threatens to invade the world. His arms are his virtues; the
eloquence of his example gives him an irresistible ascendency; elevated
above the whole age, burning with zeal, and yet full of prudence and
discretion, he founds that institution which is to remain amid the
revolution of ages, like the pyramids unmoved by the storms of the
desert.
What idea has there been more grand, more beneficent, more full of
foresight and wisdom? At a time when knowledge and virtue had no
longer an asylum, when ignorance, corruption, and barbarism rapidly
extended their conquests, was it not a grand idea to raise a refuge
for misfortune, to form a sacred deposit for the precious monuments
of antiquity, and to open schools of knowledge and virtue, where men
destined one day to figure in the vortex of the world might come
for instruction? When the reflecting man fixes his attention on the
silent abode of Monte Cassino, where the sons of the most illustrious
families of the empire are seen to come from all parts to that
monastery; some with the intention of remaining there for ever, others
to receive a good education, and soon to carry back to the world a
recollection of the serious inspirations which the holy founder had
received at Subiaco; when the monasteries of the order are seen to
multiply everywhere, to be established as great centres of activity
in all places--in the plains, in the forests, in the most uninhabited
countries; he cannot help bending, with profound veneration, before
the extraordinary man who has conceived such grand designs. If we are
unwilling to acknowledge in St. Bennet a man inspired by Heaven, at
least we ought to consider him as one of those geniuses who, from time
to time, appear on earth to become the tutelary angels of the human
race.
Not to acknowledge the powerful effect of such institutions would
be to show but little intelligence. When society is dissolved, it
requires not words, not projects, not laws, but strong institutions, to
resist the shock of the passions, the inconstancy of the human mind,
and the destructive power of events; institutions which raise the
mind, pacify and ennoble the heart, and establish in society a deep
movement of reaction and resistance to the fatal elements which lead
it to destruction. If there exists, then, an active mind, a generous
heart, a soul animated by a feeling of virtue, they will all hasten to
seek a refuge in the sacred asylums; it is not always granted to them
to change the course of the world, but at least, as men of solitude
and sacrifice, they labour to instruct and calm their own minds, and
they shed a tear of compassion over the senseless generations who are
agitated by great disasters. From time to time they succeed in making
their voices heard amid the tumult, to alarm the hearts of the wicked
by accents which resemble the formidable warnings of Heaven; thus they
diminish the force of the evil while it is impossible to prevent it
entirely; by constantly protesting against iniquity, they prevent its
acquiring prescriptive right; in attesting to future generations, by a
solemn testimony, that there were always, amid darkness and corruption,
men who made efforts to enlighten the world and to restrain the torrent
of vice and crime, they preserve faith in truth and virtue, and they
reanimate the hopes of those who are afterwards placed in similar
circumstances. Such was the action of the monks in the calamitous times
of which we speak; such was their noble and sublime mission to promote
the interests of humanity.
Perhaps it will be said that the immense properties acquired by the
monasteries were an abundant recompense for their labors, and perhaps
also a proof that their exertions were little disinterested. No doubt,
if we look at things in the light in which certain writers have
represented them, the wealth of the monks will appear as the fruit of
unbounded cupidity, of cruelty, and perfidious policy; but we have the
whole of history to refute the calumnies of the enemies of religion;
and impartial philosophy, while acknowledging that all that is human
is liable to abuse, takes care to assume a higher position, to regard
things _en masse_, and to consider them in the vast picture where so
many centuries have painted their features. It therefore despises the
evil, which is only the exception, while it contemplates and admires
the good, which is the rule.
Besides the numerous religious motives which brought property into
the hands of the monks, there is another very legitimate one, which
has always been regarded as one of the justest titles of acquisition.
The monks cultivated waste lands, dried up marshes, constructed
roads, restrained rivers within their beds, and built bridges over
them; that is to say, in countries which had undergone another kind
of general deluge, they renewed, in some measure, what the first
nations had done to restore the revolutionized globe to its original
form. A considerable portion of Europe had never received cultivation
from the hands of men; the forests, the rivers, the lakes, the thorny
thickets, were as rough as they had been left by the hands of nature.
The monasteries which were founded here and there may be regarded as
the centres of action, which the civilized nations established in the
new countries, the faces of which they proposed to change by their
powerful colonies. Did there ever exist a more legitimate title for the
possession of large properties? Is not he who reclaims a waste country,
cultivates it, and fills it with inhabitants, worthy of preserving
large possessions there? Is not this the natural course of things? Who
knows how many cities and towns arose and flourished under the shadow
of the abbeys?
Monastic properties, besides their substantial utility, had another,
which perhaps has not been sufficiently noticed. The situation of a
great part of the nations of Europe, at the time we speak of, much
resembled the state of fluctuation and inconstancy in which nations are
found, who have not yet made any progress in the career of civilization
and refinement. The idea of property, one of the most fundamental in
all social organization, was but little rooted. Attacks on property at
that time were very frequent, as well as attacks on persons. The man
who is constantly compelled to defend his own, is also constantly led
to usurp the property of others; the first thing to do to remedy so
great an evil, was to locate and fix the population by means of the
agricultural life, and to accustom them to respect for property, not
only by reasons drawn from morality and private interest, but also
by the sight of large domains belonging to establishments regarded
as inviolable, and against which a hand could not be raised without
sacrilege. Thus religious ideas were connected with social ones, and
they slowly prepared an organization which was to be completed in more
peaceable times.
Add to this a new necessity, the result of the change which took place
at that time in the habits of the people. Among the ancients, scarcely
any other life than that of cities was known; life in the country, that
dispersion of an immense population, which in modern times forms a
new nation in the fields, was not known among the ancients; and it is
remarkable that this change in the mode of life was realized exactly
when the most calamitous circumstances seemed to render it the most
dangerous and difficult. It is to the existence of the monasteries
in fields and in retired places that we owe the establishment and
consolidation of this new kind of life, which, no doubt, would have
been impossible without the ascendency and the beneficial influence of
the powerful abbeys. These religious foundations joined all the riches
and the power of feudal lords with the mild and beneficent influence of
religious authority.
How much does not Germany owe to the monks! Did they not bring her
lands into cultivation, make her agriculture flourish, and cover her
with a numerous population? How much are not France, Spain, and England
indebted to them! It is certain that this latter country would never
have reached the high degree of civilization of which she now boasts,
if the apostolic labors of the missionaries who penetrated thither
in the sixth century had not drawn her out of the darkness of gross
idolatry. And who were these missionaries? Was not the chief of them
Augustine, a monk full of zeal, sent by a Pope who had also been a
monk, St. Gregory the Great? Where do you find, amid the confusion of
the middle ages, the great writers of knowledge and virtue, except
in those solitary abodes whence issue St. Isidore, the Archbishop of
Seville; the holy abbot St. Columbanus; St. Aurelian, Bishop of Arles;
St. Augustine, the Apostle of England; that of Germany, St. Boniface;
Bede, Cuthbert, Auperth, Paul, monks of Monte Cassino; Hincmar of
Rheims, brought up at the monastery of St. Denis; St. Peter Damiens,
St. Ives, Lanfranc, and so many others, who form a generation of
distinguished men, resembling in no respect the other men of their time.
Besides the service rendered to society by the monks in religion and
morals, they conferred inestimable benefits on letters and science.
It has already been observed more than once, that letters took refuge
in the cloisters, and that the monks, by preserving and copying the
ancient manuscripts, prepared the materials which were one day to
assist in the restoration of human learning. But we must not limit
their merit to that of mere copyists. Many of them advanced far in
science, many ages in advance of the times in which they lived. Not
content with the laborious task of preserving and putting into order
the ancient manuscripts, they rendered the most eminent service
to history by compiling chronicles. Thereby, while continuing the
tradition of the most important branches of study, they collected
the contemporary history, which, perhaps, without their labor would
have been lost. Adon, Archbishop of Vienne, brought up in the Abbey
of Ferrière, writes a universal history, from the beginning of the
world to his own time; Abbon, monk of St. Germain-des-Prés, composes
a Latin poem, in which he relates the siege of Paris by the Normans;
Aymon of Aquitaine writes the history of the French in four books;
St. Ives publishes a chronicle of their kings; the German monk Witmar
leaves us the chronicle of Henry I., of the Kings Otho and Henry II.,
which is much esteemed for its candor, and has been published many
times; Leibnitz has used it to throw light on the history of Brunswick.
Adhemar is the author of a chronicle, which embraces the whole time
from 829 to 1029. Glaber, monk of Cluny, has composed a much-esteemed
history of the events which happened in France from 980 to his own
time; Herman, a chronicle which embraces the six ages of the world
down to the year 1054. In fine, we should never finish if we were to
mention the historical labors of Sigebert, Guibert, Hugh, Prior of St.
Victor, and so many other illustrious men, who, rising above their
times, applied themselves to labors of this kind; of which we cannot
easily appreciate the difficulty and the high degree of merit, we who
live in an age when the means of knowledge are become so easy, when
the accumulated riches of so many ages are inherited, and when we
find on all sides wide and well-beaten paths. Without the existence
of religious institutions, without the asylum of the cloisters, these
eminent men would never have been formed. Not only had the sciences
and letters been lost sight of, but ignorance was so great, that
seculars who knew how to read and write were very rare. Surely such
circumstances were not well adapted to form men of merit enough to do
honor to advanced ages. Who has not often paused to contemplate the
distinguished triumvirate, Peter the Venerable, St. Bernard, and the
Abbot Suger? May it not be said that the twelfth century is elevated
above its rank in history, by producing a writer like Peter the
Venerable, an orator like St. Bernard, and a statesman like Suger?
These ages show us another celebrated monk, whose influence on the
progress of knowledge has not been rated at its just value by many
critics who love only to point out defects: I mean Gratian. Those who
have declaimed against him, eager to look for his mistakes, should
have placed themselves in the position of a compiler in the thirteenth
century, at a time when all resources were wanting, when the lights of
criticism were yet to be created; they would then have seen whether
the bold enterprise of the monk was not attended with more success
than there was reason to hope for. The profit which was drawn from the
collection of Gratian is incalculable. By giving in a small compass
a great part of what was most precious in antiquity with respect to
civil and canon law; by making an abundant collection of texts from the
holy fathers, applied to all kinds of subjects, he awakened a taste
for that species of research; he created the study of them; he made an
immense step towards satisfying one of the first necessities of modern
nations, the formation of civil and ecclesiastical codes. It will be
said that the errors of Gratian were contagious, and that it would have
been better to have recourse directly to the originals; but to read
the originals it was necessary to know them; it was necessary to be
informed of their existence, to be excited by the desire of explaining
a proposed difficulty, to have acquired a taste for researches of that
kind; all this was wanting before Gratian; all this was brought out by
his enterprise. The general favor with which his labors were received
is the most convincing proof of their merit; and if it be objected that
this favor was owing to the ignorance of the time, I will reply, that
we owe a tribute of gratitude to any one who throws a ray of light on
the darkness, however feeble and wavering this ray may be.
CHAPTER XLII.
OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS DURING THE SECOND HALF OF THE MIDDLE
AGES.--THE MILITARY ORDERS.
The rapid view which we have just taken of religious institutions from
the irruption of the barbarians to the twelfth century, has shown
us that the monastic foundations, during that time, were a powerful
support for that remaining portion of society which was ready to
fall to pieces in the universal ruin; an asylum for misfortune, for
virtue, and for knowledge; a storehouse for the precious monuments
of antiquity, and in some measure an assemblage of civilizing
associations, which labored in silence at the reconstruction of the
social edifice, by neutralizing the force of the dissolving principles
which had ruined its basis; they were, besides, a nursery for forming
the men who were required for the elevated posts in Church and State.
In the twelfth and the following centuries, these institutions take
a new form, and assume a character very different from that which we
have just pointed out. Their aim remains not less highly religious and
social; but the times are changed, and we must remember the words of
the Apostle, _omnia omnibus_. Let us examine the causes and the results
of these novelties.
Before going further, I will say a few words on the religious military
orders, the name of which sufficiently indicates their double character
of monk and soldier. The union of the monastic state with war: what
a monstrous mixture! will be the cry. In spite of the supposed
monstrosity, this union was in conformity with the natural and regular
order of things; it was a strong remedy applied to very great evils;
a rampart against imminent dangers; in a word, the expression of a
great European necessity. This is not the place to relate the annals of
the military orders, annals which, like the most illustrious history,
afford wonderful and interesting pictures, with that mixture of heroism
and religious inspiration which assimilates history with poetry. It is
enough to pronounce the names of the knights of the Temple, of St. John
of Jerusalem, of the Teutonic order, of St. Raymond, of the Abbot of
Fitero, of Calatrava, instantly to remind the reader of a long series
of marvellous events, forming one of the noblest pages in the history
of that time. Let us omit these narrations, which do not regard us; but
let us pause for a moment to examine the origin and spirit of these
famous institutions.
The Cross and the Crescent were enemies irreconcilable by nature, and
urged to the greatest fury by a long and bloody struggle. Both had
great power and vast designs; both were supported by brave nations,
full of enthusiasm and ready to throw themselves on each other; both
had great hopes of success founded on former achievements; on which
side will the victory remain? What course ought the Christians to
pursue in order to avoid the dangers which threaten them? Is it better
quietly to await the attack of the Mussulmen in Europe, or make a levy
_en masse_ to invade Asia and seek the enemy in his own country, where
he believes himself to be invincible? The problem was solved in the
latter way; the Crusades took place, and centuries have given their
suffrage as to the wisdom of that resolution. What avails a little
declamation affecting to favor the cause of justice and humanity? Let
no one allow himself to be dazzled; the philosophy of history taught
by the lessons of experience, enriched with a more abundant treasure
of knowledge, the fruit of a more attentive study of the facts, has
given a decisive judgment in this case; in this, as in other cases,
religion has retired in triumph from the tribunal of philosophy.
The Crusades, far from being considered as an act of barbarism and
rashness, are justly regarded as a _chef-d'œuvre_ of policy, which,
after having secured the independence of Europe, gave to the Christian
nations a decided preponderance over the Mussulmen. The military
spirit was thereby increased and strengthened among European nations;
they all received a feeling of fraternity, which transformed them into
one people; the human mind was developed in many ways; the state of
feudal vassals was improved, and feudality was urged towards its entire
ruin; navies were created, commerce and manufactures were encouraged;
thus society received from the Crusades a most powerful impulse in
the career of civilization. We do not mean to say, that the men who
conceived them, the Popes who excited, the nations who undertook, the
princes and lords who promoted them with their power, were aware of the
whole extent of their own works, or even had a glimpse of the immensity
of their results; it is enough that they settled the existing question
in the way the most favorable to the independence and prosperity of
Europe; this, I repeat, is enough. I would observe, moreover, that
we should attribute so much the more importance to things as human
foresight has had little share in the events; now these things are
nothing less than the principles and feelings of religion in connection
with the preservation and happiness of society, Catholicity covering
with her ægis and animating with her breath the civilization of Europe.
Such were the Crusades. Now, remember that this idea, so great and
generous, was conceived with a degree of vagueness, and executed with
that precipitation which is the fruit of the impatience of ardent
zeal; remember that this idea--the offspring of Catholicity, which
always converts its ideas into institutions--was to be realized in
an institution, which faithfully represented it, and served, as it
were, as its organ, in order that it might render itself felt, and
gain strength and fruitfulness for its support. After this, you will
look for some means of uniting religion and arms; and you will be
filled with joy when, under a cuirass of steel, you shall find hearts
zealous for the religion of Jesus Christ--when you shall see this new
kind of men, who devote themselves without reserve to the defence of
religion, while they renounce all that the world can offer--gentler
than lambs, bolder than lions, in the words of St. Bernard. Sometimes
they assembled in community, to raise their voices to Heaven in fervent
prayer; sometimes they boldly marched to battle, brandishing their
formidable lances, the terror of the Saracens. No; there does not exist
in the annals of history an event so colossal as the Crusades, and
you might search there in vain for an institution more generous than
the military orders. In the Crusades we see numberless nations arise,
march across deserts, bury themselves in countries with which they are
unacquainted, and expose themselves to all the rigors of climates and
seasons; and for what purpose? To deliver a tomb! Grand and immortal
movement, where hundreds of nations advance to certain death--not in
pursuit of a miserable self-interest--not to find an abode in milder
and more fertile countries--not from an ardent desire to obtain for
themselves earthly advantages--but inspired only by a religious idea,
by a jealous desire to possess the tomb of Him who expired on the cross
for the salvation of the human race! When compared with this, what
becomes of the lofty deeds of the Greeks, chanted by Homer? Greece
arises to avenge an injured husband; Europe to redeem the sepulchre of
a God.
When, after the disasters and the triumphs of the Crusades, we see the
military orders appear, sometimes fighting in the oriental regions,
sometimes in the islands of the Mediterranean, sustaining and repelling
the rude assaults of Islamism, which, emboldened by its victories,
again longs to throw itself on Europe, we imagine that we behold those
brave men, who, on the day of a great battle, remain alone upon the
field, one against a hundred, securing by their heroism, and at the
hazard of their lives, the safety of their companions in arms who
retire behind them. Honor and glory to the religion which has been
capable of inspiring such lofty thoughts, and has been able to realize
such great and generous enterprises!
CHAPTER XLIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT--EUROPE IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.
Perhaps they who are the most opposed to religious communities may be
reconciled to the solitaries of the East, when they perceive in them a
class of men who, by practising the most sublime and austere counsels
of religion, have communicated a generous impulse to humanity, have
raised it from the dust where Paganism had held it, and made it wing
its flight towards purer regions. To accustom man to grave and strict
morality; to bring back the soul within itself; to give a lively
feeling of the dignity of his nature, of the loftiness of his origin
and his destiny; to inspire him, by means of extraordinary examples,
with confidence that the mind, aided by divine grace, can triumph over
the animal passions, and make man lead an angelic life upon earth:
these are benefits so signal, that a noble heart must show itself
grateful and full of lively interest for the men who have given them
to the world. As to the monasteries of the West, the benefits of their
civilizing influence are so visible, that no man who loves humanity can
regard them with animadversion; in fine, the military orders present
us with an idea so noble, so poetical, and realize in so admirable a
manner one of those golden dreams which cross the human mind in moments
of enthusiasm, that they must certainly find respectful homage in every
heart which beats at a noble and sublime spectacle.
There yet remains a more difficult task, that of presenting at the
tribunal of philosophy--that philosophy so indifferent in religious
matters--the other religious communities which are not comprised in
the sketch which I have just made. Judgments of great severity have
been passed upon those institutions which I have now to speak of; but
in such things justice cannot be prescriptive. Neither the applause
of irreligious men, nor the revolutions which upset all that stand in
their way, can prevent the truth being placed in its true light, and
folly and crime being stigmatized with disgrace.
The thirteenth century has just commenced; there appears a new kind of
men, who, under different titles, denominations, and forms, profess a
singular and extraordinary way of life. Some put on clothing of coarse
cloth; they renounce all wealth and property; they condemn themselves
to perpetual mendicity, spreading themselves over the country and
the towns for the sake of gaining souls for Jesus Christ. Others
bear on their dress the distinctive mark of the redemption of man,
and undertake the mission of releasing from servitude the numberless
captives who, from the misfortune of the times, have fallen into
the hands of the Mussulmen. Some erect the cross in the midst of a
people who eagerly follow them, and they institute a new devotion--a
constant hymn of praise to Jesus and to Mary; at the same time they
indefatigably preach the faith of the Crucified. Others go in search
of all the miseries of man, bury themselves in hospitals, in all the
asylums of misfortune, to succour and console. They all bear new
standards; all show equal contempt for the world; they all form a
portion separate from the rest of mankind; but they resemble neither
the solitaries of the East, nor the sons of St. Bennet. The new monks
arise not in the desert, but in the midst of society: their object is
not to live shut up in monasteries, but to spread themselves over the
fields and hamlets, to penetrate to the heart of the great masses of
the population, and to make their voices heard both in the cottage of
the shepherd and in the palace of the monarch. They increase on all
sides in a prodigious manner. Italy, Germany, France, Spain, England,
receive them; numerous convents arise as if by enchantment in the
villages and towns; the Popes protect them and enrich them with many
privileges; kings grant them the highest favors, and support them in
their enterprises; the people regard them with veneration, and listen
to them with respectful docility. A religious movement appears on all
sides; religious institutions, more or less resembling each other,
arise like the branches from the same trunk. The observer, when he sees
this immense and astonishing picture, asks himself, What are the causes
of so extraordinary a phenomenon? whence this singular movement? what
is its tendency? what will be its effects on society?
When a fact of such high importance is realized all at once in many
different countries, and lasts for centuries, it is a proof that there
existed very powerful means to produce it. It is vain to be entirely
forgetful of the views of Providence: no one can deny that such a fact
must have had its root in the essence of things; consequently it is
useless to declaim against the men and the institutions. Acknowledging
this, the true philosopher will not lose his time in anathematizing the
fact, but he will examine and analyze it. No declamation or invectives
against the monks can efface their history; they have existed for many
centuries, and centuries do not retrace their steps.
We will not inquire if there was here some extraordinary design of
Providence, and we will lay aside the reflections which religion
suggests to every true Catholic; we will confine ourselves to
considering the religious institutions of modern times in a purely
philosophical point of view; we can show that they were not only very
conformable to the well-being of society, but also perfectly adapted to
the situation in which it was placed; we can show that they displayed
neither cunning, malice, nor vile self-interest; that their object was
highly advantageous, and that they were at the same time the expression
and the fulfilment of great social necessities.
The question of its own accord assumes the position in which we have
just regarded it; and it is strange that men have not acknowledged all
the importance of the magnificent points of view which here present
themselves.
In order the better to clear up this important matter, I will enter
upon an examination of the social condition of Europe at the time of
which we speak. As soon as we take the first glance at this epoch, we
observe that, in spite of the intellectual rudeness which one would
imagine must have kept nations in abject silence, there was at the
bottom of men's minds an anxiety which deeply moved and agitated them.
These times are ignorant; but it is an ignorance which is conscious
of itself and which longs for knowledge. There is felt a want of
harmony in the relations and institutions of society; but that want is
everywhere felt and acknowledged, and a continual agitation indicates
that this harmony is anxiously desired and ardently sought for. I know
not what singular character is stamped upon the nations of Europe,
but we do not find there the symptoms of death; they are barbarous,
ignorant, corrupt, any thing you please; but, as if they constantly
heard a voice calling them to light, to civilization, to a new life,
they incessantly labor to leave the fatal condition into which unhappy
circumstances have plunged them. They never sleep in tranquillity amid
the darkness; they never live without remorse amid the corruption of
manners. The echo of virtue continually resounds in their ears; flashes
of light appear in the darkness; a thousand efforts are made to advance
a step in the career of civilization; a thousand times they are vain;
but they are renewed as often as they are repulsed; the generous
attempt is never abandoned; they fail a thousand times; but they never
lose courage. Courage and ardour are never wanting. There is this
remarkable difference between the nations of Europe, and those nations
among whom the Christian religion has not yet penetrated, or from whose
bosom it has been banished. Ancient Greece falls, never to rise again;
the Republics of the shore of Asia disappear, and do not rise out of
their ruins. The ancient civilization of Egypt is broken to pieces by
the conquerors, and posterity has scarcely preserved a remembrance of
them. Certainly none of the nations on the coast of Africa can show us
signs which reveal the ancient country of St. Cyprian, of Tertullian
and St. Augustine. Still more; a considerable portion of Asia has
preserved Christianity, but a Christianity separated from Rome; and
this has been unable to establish or regenerate any thing. Political
power has aided and protected it, but the nation remains feeble; it
cannot stand erect; it is a dead body, incapable of advancing; it is
not like Lazarus, who has just heard the all-powerful voice: "Lazarus,
come forth; _Lazare veni foras_."
This anxiety, this agitation, this extreme eagerness towards a
greater and happier future, this desire for reformation in manners,
for enlargement and correction in ideas, for amelioration in
institutions--the distinctive characteristics of modern nations--made
themselves felt in a fearful manner at the time to which we allude. I
will say nothing of the military history of those times, which would
furnish us with abundant proofs of our assertion; I will confine
myself to facts which, owing to their religious and social character,
have the greatest analogy with the subject which now occupies us. A
formidable energy of mind, a great fund of activity, a simultaneous
development of the most ardent passions, an enterprising spirit, a
lively desire of independence, a decided inclination to employ violent
means, an extraordinary zeal for proselytism, ignorance combined with
a thirst for knowledge, even combined with enthusiasm and fanaticism
for all that bears the name of science; a high esteem for the titles
of nobility, and of illustrious blood, united with the spirit of
democracy, and a profound respect for merit, wherever it may be found;
a childlike candor, an excessive credulity, and, at the same time, the
most obstinate indocility; a tenacious spirit of resistance, fearful
stubbornness, corruption, and licentiousness of manners, allied with
admiration for virtue; a taste for the most austere practices, combined
with an inclination for the most extravagant habits and manners; such
are the traits which history exhibits among these nations.
So singular a mixture appears strange at first sight; and yet nothing
was more natural. Things could not be otherwise: societies are formed
under the influence of certain principles, and of certain particular
circumstances, which impart to them their genius, character, and
countenance. It is the same with society as with individuals;
education, instruction, temperament, and a thousand other physical
and moral circumstances, concur in forming a collection of influences
which produce qualities the most different, and sometimes the most
contradictory. This concurrence of different causes was shown in a
singular and extraordinary manner among the nations of Europe; it
is on this account that we observe there the most extravagant and
discordant effects. Let us recollect the history of those nations since
the fall of the Roman empire to the end of the Crusades; never did an
assemblage of nations present a combination of more varied elements,
and a spectacle of greater events. The moral principles which preside
over the development of these nations were in direct opposition to
their genius and situation. These principles were essentially pure,
unchangeable as the God who had established them; radiant with light,
because they emanated from the source of all light and life: the
nations, on the contrary, were ignorant, rude, fluctuating, like
the waves of the sea, and corrupted, as was to be expected of every
thing which was the result of an impure mixture. Wherefore a terrible
struggle took place between principles and facts; wherefore there were
witnessed the most extraordinary contradictions, according as good and
evil alternately preponderated. Never was the struggle between elements
which could not remain at peace, more clearly seen; the genii of good
and of evil seemed to descend into the arena, and to fight hand to hand.
The nations of Europe were not in their infancy, for they were
surrounded by old institutions. Full of the recollections of ancient
civilization, they preserved various remains of it. They were
themselves produced by the mixture of a hundred nations, differing in
laws, customs, and manners. They were not yet adult nations; as this
denomination cannot be applied either to individuals or to society
before they have reached a certain development, from which the nations
of Europe were still far removed. It is very difficult to find a word
to express this social state; it was neither a state of civilization,
nor that of barbarism; for a number of laws and institutions existed
there, which certainly did not deserve the epithet of barbarous. If we
call these nations semi-barbarous, perhaps we shall approach the truth.
Words are of little importance, if we have a clear idea of the things.
It cannot be denied that the European nations, owing to a long series
of revolutions, and the extraordinary mixture of races, of ideas, and
manners, of the conquerors with each other, and of the conquerors
with the nations conquered, had a large portion of barbarism, and a
fruitful germ of agitation and disorder. But the malignant influence
of these elements was combated by the action of Christianity, which
had obtained a decided preponderance over minds, and which, besides,
was supported by powerful institutions. Christianity, to accomplish
this difficult work, had the assistance of great material force. The
Christian doctrines, which penetrated on all sides, tended, like a
sweetening liquid, to soften and improve every thing; but, at every
step, the mind comes into collision with the senses, morality with
the passions, order with anarchy, charity with ferocity, and law
with fact. Thence a struggle, which, although general to a certain
extent in all times and countries, since it is founded on the nature
of man, was then more rude, violent, and clamorous. The two most
opposite principles, barbarism and Christianity, were then face to
face in the same arena, with no one between them. Observe these
nations with attention, read their history with reflection, and you
will see that those two principles are constantly struggling, and
constantly contending for influence and preponderance; thence the
most strange situations, and the most singular contrasts. Study the
character of the wars of that time, and you will hear the holiest
maxims constantly proclaimed; legitimacy, law, reason, and justice
are invoked; the tribunal of God is incessantly appealed to: this is
the influence of Christianity. But, at the same time, you will be
afflicted at the sight of numberless acts of violence, of cruelties,
atrocities, pillages, rapines, murders, fires, and disasters without
end: this is barbarism. If you look at the Crusades, you will observe
that grand ideas, vast plans, noble inspirations, social and political
views of the highest importance, fermented in men's heads; that all
hearts overflowed with noble and generous feelings, and that a holy
enthusiasm, transporting men out of themselves, rendered them capable
of heroic actions: this is the influence of Christianity. But, if you
examine the execution, you will see disorder, improvidence, want of
discipline in the armies, injuries, and acts of violence; you will
seek in vain for concert and harmony among those who take part in the
gigantic and perilous enterprise: there is barbarism. Youths, thirsting
for knowledge, crowd to the lectures of the famous masters, from the
most distant countries; Italians, Germans, English, Spanish, and
French are mingled and confounded around the chairs of Abelard, Peter
Lombard, Albertus Magnus, and St. Thomas of Aquin; a powerful voice
resounds in their ears, calling them to leave the shades of ignorance
and raise themselves to the regions of science; the love of knowledge
animates them; the longest journeys cannot stop them; the enthusiasm
for illustrious masters is carried to an indescribable extent: behold
the influence of Christianity; behold her constantly stirring and
illuminating the mind of man, never allowing him to repose tranquilly
in obscurity, and continually exciting him to new intellectual labors
and researches after truth! But behold these same youths, who exhibit
such noble dispositions, and inspire such legitimate and consoling
hopes; are they not also those licentious, restless, and turbulent
young men, giving way to the most deplorable acts of violence,
continually fighting in the streets, and forming in the midst of great
cities a small republic, an unruly democracy, where there is much
difficulty in maintaining law and good order? Behold here barbarism!
It is good, it is perfectly conformable to the spirit of religion, that
the guilty man who raises a repentant and humiliated heart to God,
should manifest his feeling and the affliction of his soul by external
acts; that he should labor to fortify his mind, and restrain his evil
inclinations, by employing the rigors of gospel austerity against his
flesh: all this is sovereignly reasonable, just, holy, and conformable
to the maxims of the Christian religion, which thus ordains for the
justification and sanctification of the sinner, to repair the injury
done to the souls of others by the scandal of a bad life. But that
penitents, half naked, should wander about loaded with chains, carrying
horror and alarm everywhere, as happened at this time, when we see
ecclesiastical authority compelled to repress the abuse: this marks the
spirit of rudeness and ferocity which always accompany the state of
barbarism. Nothing is more true, noble, and salutary for society, than
to imagine God always ready to defend innocence, to protect it against
injustice and calumny, and to raise it above humiliation and disgrace,
by restoring to it, sooner or later, the purity and lustre of which
they have attempted to deprive it. This supposition is an effect of
faith in Providence--that faith emanating from Christian ideas, which
represent to us God as embracing the whole world in his view, reaching
with his penetrating eye the deepest recesses of the heart, and not
even excluding the meanest of his creatures from his paternal love. But
who does not perceive the infinite distance which separates this pure
faith from the trials by fire, water, and single combat? Who does not
here discover rudeness confounding all things--the spirit of violence
laboring to subject every thing to a rigorous law--attempting, in some
measure, to oblige God himself to comply with our wants and caprices,
in order to interpose the testimony of his solemn miracles, whenever it
suits our pleasure or convenience to find out the truth?
I introduce these contrasts here in order to awaken the recollections
of those who have read history, and to enable me to establish, in a few
words, the simple and general formula which sums up all those periods:
"Barbarism tempered by religion; religion disfigured by barbarism."
In the study of history we constantly encounter a serious obstacle,
which renders it always difficult, and sometimes impossible, to
understand it perfectly. We make the mistake of referring every thing
to ourselves, and to the objects which surround us--a mistake which
is excusable, no doubt, since it has its root in our own nature,
but against which we must be carefully on our guard, if we wish to
avoid deplorable errors. We imagine the men of other times to be
like ourselves; without thinking of it, we communicate to them our
own ideas, manners, inclinations, and even temperaments; and, after
having fashioned men who exist only in our own imaginations, we desire
and demand that the real men should act in the same manner as these
imaginary men; and at the slightest discord between the historical
facts and our unreasonable suppositions, we cry out that it is strange
and monstrous, taxing with being strange and monstrous what was
perfectly regular and ordinary according to the epoch.
It is the same with respect to laws and institutions: when we do not
find them according to the types which we have under our eyes, we
declaim against the ignorance, iniquity, and cruelty of the men who
have conceived and established them. If we wish to form an exact idea
of an epoch, it is necessary to transport ourselves there--to make an
effort of imagination, in order, as it were, to live and converse with
its men; it is not enough to hear the recital of the events, it is
necessary to witness them, to become one of the spectators, one of the
actors, if possible; it is necessary to call forth generations from
the tomb, and make them act under our eyes. I shall be told that this
is very difficult. I grant it; but it is necessary, if we wish that
our knowledge of history should be something more than a mere notion
of names and dates. It is quite sure that we do not know an individual
well, unless acquainted with his ideas, character, and conduct. It is
the same with a society: if we are ignorant by what doctrines it was
guided, what was its manner of considering and feeling things, we shall
see the events only superficially--we shall know the words of the law,
but we shall not penetrate its spirit or genius; when contemplating
an institution, we shall see only the external frame-work, without
reaching the mechanism, or guessing the moving machinery. If we attempt
to avoid these defects, it is certain that the study of history becomes
the most difficult of all; but this knowledge has been wanting for a
long time. The secrets of man and the mysteries of society are, at the
same time, the most important subject which can be proposed to the
human mind, and the most arduous, the most difficult, and the least
accessible to the generality of intellects.
The individual in the times to which we allude was not the individual
of to-day; his ideas were very different, his manner of seeing and
feeling was not ours, his soul was of quite another temper from our
own; what is inconceivable to us, was perfectly natural to men of those
times; they took pleasure in what is now repugnant to us.
At the beginning of the thirteenth century, Europe had already
experienced the powerful shock of the Crusades; the sciences began
to germinate; the spirit of commerce was in some degree developed;
the taste for industry made itself felt; and the inclination of men
to enter into communication with other men, and of nations to mingle
with other nations, was every day extended and increased. The feudal
system, already shaken, was about to fall to pieces; the power of the
commonalty rapidly increased; the spirit of enfranchisement showed
itself everywhere; in fine, owing to the almost complete abolition of
slavery, and to the change effected by the Crusades in the condition
of vassals and serfs, Europe was covered with a numerous population
who knew not slavery, and who bore with difficulty the feudal yoke.
Yet this population was still far from possessing all that is
necessary to rise to the rank of free citizens. Modern democracy
already offered itself to the view, with its great advantages, its
numerous difficulties, its immense problems, which still embarrass
and disconcert us, after so many centuries of trial and experience.
The lords preserved in great measure their habits of barbarism and
ferocity, by which they had been unfortunately distinguished at
former periods; the royal power was far from having acquired that
force and _prestige_ necessary for ruling such opposite elements,
and to raise itself in the midst of society as a symbol of respect
for all interests--a centre of reunion for all forces, and a sublime
personification of reason and justice.
In the same century, wars began to assume a character more popular,
and consequently more vast and important; the agitations of the people
began to wear the aspect of political commotions. Already we discover
something more than the ambition of emperors attempting to impose their
yoke on Italy; we have no longer petty kings who contend for a crown
or a province, or counts or barons who, followed by their serfs, fight
with each other or with the neighboring municipalities, covering the
land with blood and rapine. We observe in the movements of that period
something more important and alarming. Numerous nations arise and crowd
around a banner on which, instead of the ensigns of a baron or of a
monarch, appears the name of a system of doctrines. No doubt, the lords
take part in the struggle, and their power raises them still far above
the crowd which surrounds and follows them; but the cause in question
is not that of these men; they are accounted something in the problems
of the times; but mankind looks beyond the horizon of castles. This
agitation and movement, produced by the appearance of new religious and
social doctrines, is the announcement and the beginning of that chain
of revolutions which Europe has to undergo.
The evil did not consist in the disposition of nations to carry out
their ideas, and refuse to take as their only guide the interests and
doctrines of a few tyrants. On the contrary, this was a great step
gained in the path of civilization; men thus showed that they felt and
understood their own dignity better, that they took a more extended
view, and had a better understanding of their own situation and
interests. This progress was the natural result of the higher flight
which was every day taken by the faculties of the mind. The Crusades
had greatly contributed to this new movement; from that great epoch
the different nations of Europe were accustomed no longer to fight for
the possession of a small territory, or to gratify private ambition or
revenge. The nations fought in support of a principle by laboring to
avenge the outrage offered to the true religion; in a word, they became
accustomed to be moved, to contend, to die, for an idea which, far from
being limited to a small territory, embraced heaven and earth. Thus,
we will observe in passing, that the popular movement, the movement in
ideas, began in Spain much sooner than in the rest of Europe, because
the war against the Moors had advanced the period of the Crusades for
that country. The evil, I repeat it, was not in the interest which
the people took in ideas, but in the imminent danger of seeing those
nations, on account of their rudeness and ignorance, allow themselves
to be abused and deceived by the first fanatic who came. At a moment
when the movement was so vast, the fate of Europe depended on the
direction which was about to be given to the universal activity: unless
I am deceived, the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were the critical
epochs, when, in the face of great probabilities on both sides, there
was decided the great question of knowing whether Europe, in its
twofold social and political relations, was to take advantage of the
benefits of Christianity, or permit all the promise of a better future
to be lost and annihilated.
When we fix our eyes on this period, we find, in different parts of
Europe, a certain germ and index of the greatest disasters; the most
horrible doctrines arise among the masses who begin to be agitated; the
most fearful disorders signalize the first step of these nations in the
career of life. Before this, we have discovered only kings and lords,
but now the people appear on the scene. Thus we see that some rays of
light and heat have penetrated this shapeless mass. At this sight the
heart is dilated and encouraged, presaging the new future which is
reserved for humanity. But, at the same time, the observer is alarmed,
for he is aware that this heat may produce excessive fermentation,
engender corruption, and multiply impure insects in the field which
promises soon to become an enchanting garden.
The extravagances of the human mind at this time appear under so
alarming an aspect, and with a turbulence of character so fearful, that
apprehensions apparently the most exaggerated are supported by facts,
and become terrible probabilities. Let me recall some of those facts
which so vividly paint the condition of minds at that time; facts which
besides are connected with the principal point which we are examining.
At the beginning of the twelfth century, we find the famous Tanchème,
or Tanquelin, teaching the maddest theories and committing the greatest
crimes; yet at Antwerp, in Zealand, in the country of Utrecht, and in
many other towns in the same countries, he draws after him a numerous
crowd. This wretched man advanced that he was more worthy of supreme
worship than Jesus Christ himself, "for," said he, "if Jesus Christ
had received the Holy Spirit, he (Tanchème) had received the plenitude
of that Holy Spirit." He added that the whole Church was comprised in
his own person and in his disciples. The pontificate, episcopate, and
priesthood were, according to him, mere chimeras. His instructions
and discourses were particularly addressed to women; the result of
his doctrines and proceedings was the most revolting corruption. Yet
the fanaticism which was excited by this abominable man went so
far that the sick eagerly drank the water in which he had bathed,
believing it to be the most salutary remedy for body and soul. Women
thought themselves happy to have obtained the favors of the monster;
mothers considered it an honor for their daughters to be selected as
the victims of his profligacy, and husbands were offended when their
wives were not stained with this disgrace. Tanchème, knowing all the
ascendency which he was able to exert over minds, was not backward in
making use of the fanaticism of his followers; one of the principal
virtues with which he labored to inspire them was liberality in favor
of his own interest.
One day when he was surrounded with a large concourse of people, he
had a picture of the Virgin brought to him; touching it with his
sacrilegious hand, he said that he took the Virgin as his wife. Then,
turning toward the spectators, he added, that as he had contracted
marriage with the Queen of Heaven, as they had just seen, it was their
duty to make the wedding presents. He immediately placed two boxes, one
on the right and the other on the left of the picture, to receive on
one side the offerings of the men, and on the other those of the women;
for the purpose of learning, as he said, which of the two sexes had the
greater affection for him. This artifice, as low and gross as it was
sacrilegious, seemed only calculated to excite the indignation of those
who were present; yet the results corresponded with the expectations
of the artful impostor. The women, always jealous of the affection of
Tanchème, surpassed in liberality; in a perfect frenzy, they stripped
themselves of their necklaces, golden rings, and most precious jewels.
When he felt himself strong enough, Tanchème did not content himself
with preaching; he was desirous of surrounding himself with an armed
troop, in order to give him in the eyes of the world a far different
appearance from that of an apostle. Three thousand men accompanied
him everywhere. Surrounded by this respectable escort, clothed in
magnificent apparel, and preceded by his standard, he moved with all
the pomp of a king. When he stopped to preach, the three thousand
satellites stood armed around him with drawn swords. It is evident,
the aggressive character of the heretical sects of succeeding ages was
already traced out.
Every one knows how numerous were the partisans of Eon. This unhappy
man was excited by hearing the frequent repetition of the words: "Per
eum qui judicaturus est vivos et mortuos:" and he became persuaded
and he asserted, that he himself was the judge who was to judge the
living and the dead. We are also aware of the troubles excited by the
seditious speeches of Arnauld of Brescia, the iconoclastic fanaticism
of Pierre de Bruis and Henri. If I did not fear to fatigue the
attention of my readers, it would be easy for me to relate here the
most revolting scenes which represent to the life the spirit of the
sects of those times, and the unfortunate predisposition which led
men's minds to novelty, to extravagant spectacles, and I know not what
fatal giddiness, whereby they were precipitated into the most strange
errors and the most deplorable excesses. At all events, I must say a
few words of the Cathari, Vaudois, Paterins of Arras, Albigenses, and
poor men of Lyons. These sects, besides the influence which they had
on the times of which we speak and on the later events of European
history, will be of great use in making us fathom more deeply the
question now before us. From the first ages of the Church, the sect
of the Manichees was remarkable for errors and extravagances. Under
different names, with more or less of followers, and with doctrines
more or less various, it continued from age to age until the eleventh
century, when it excited disturbances in France. From that time,
Heribert and Lisoy acquired an unhappy celebrity by their obstinacy and
fanaticism. In the time of St. Bernard, the sects called apostolical
were distinguished by their dislike to marriage; while, on the other
hand, they gave themselves up to the basest and most unbridled
licentiousness. Nevertheless, all these irregularities were favorably
received by the ignorance or the corruption of the people. This is
proved by the rapidity with which they gained the masses and spread
like a pestilence wherever they appeared. Besides the hypocrisy, which
is common to all the sects, that of the Manichees imagined an artifice
the most apt to seduce rude and ignorant people: they appeared with
the most rigid austerity and the most miserable clothes. Before the
year 1181, we see the Manichees bold enough to venture out of their
conventicles and openly teach their doctrines in the light of day. They
associated with the celebrated bandits called _Cottereaux_, and feared
not to commit all sorts of excesses, as they had seduced some knights
and had secured the protection of some seigneurs of the country of
Toulouse; they succeeded in exciting a formidable insurrection, which
could be repressed only by force of arms. An eye-witness, Stephen,
Abbot of St. Genevieve, at that time sent to Toulouse by the king,
describes to us in a few words the acts of violence committed by these
sectaries: "I have seen on all sides," he says, "churches burnt and
ruined to their foundations: I have seen the dwellings of men changed
into the dens of beasts."
About the same time, the Vaudois, or poor men of Lyons, became famous.
This last name was given to them on account of their extreme poverty,
their contempt for all riches, and the rags with which they were
covered. Their shoes also gave them the name of Sabatathes. They
were perverse imitators of another kind of poor, celebrated at that
time, and who were distinguished by their virtues, and particularly
by their spirit of humility and disinterestedness. These latter, who
formed a kind of association, comprising priests and laymen, attracted
the respect and esteem of real Christians, and obtained the Pope's
permission to teach publicly. The disciples showed a profound contempt
for Church authority; they afterwards entertained monstrous errors, and
in the end became a sect in opposition to religion, injurious to good
morals, and incompatible with public tranquillity.
These errors, which were the germs of so many calamities and troubles,
could not be extirpated; with time they became more and more rooted in
various countries, and the progress of things was so fatal, that at the
beginning of the thirteenth century the period of short-lived seditions
and isolated troubles was already long gone by, the errors had already
spread on a large scale, and appeared with formidable resources for the
contest. Already the south of France, agitated by civil discord, and
precipitated into a fearful war, was in a state of terrible conflict.
In the political organization of that time, the throne had not strength
enough to exercise a controlling power, the lords had still the means
of resisting kings and doing violence to the people. When a spirit of
disobedience, agitation, and movement is spread throughout the masses,
there is only one means of restraining them, that of religion; and this
very ascendency of religious ideas was taken advantage of by the wicked
and the fanatical; and to mislead the multitude they availed themselves
of violent declamation, where religion and politics formed a confused
mixture, and where the spirit of austerity and disinterestedness was
the subject of hypocritical affectation. The new errors were no longer
confined to subtile attacks on particular dogmas, they assailed the
fundamental ideas of religion, penetrated to the sanctuary of the
family, on the one side condemning marriage, and on the other promoting
infamous abominations: in fine, the evil was not limited to countries
which by a tardy and incomplete initiation into the doctrines of
Christianity, or for any other reason, had not fully participated in
the European movement. The arena principally chosen was the south; that
is, the country where the human mind was developed in the most prompt
and lively manner.
In the midst of such a concourse of unfortunate circumstances, all
attested and placed beyond a doubt by history, was not the future of
Europe very dark and tempestuous? Ideas and manners were in imminent
danger of taking a wrong direction; the bands of authority, the ties of
family, seemed ready to break asunder; the nations might be led away
by fanaticism or superstition; Europe was in danger of being replunged
into the chaos whence it had emerged with so much difficulty. At that
time the Crescent shone in Spain, it reigned in Africa, it triumphed
in Asia. Was Europe at such a moment to lose her religious unity, and
see new errors penetrate everywhere, sowing schism in all countries,
and with it discord and war? Were all the elements of civilization and
refinement created by Christianity to be dispersed and stricken with
sterility for ever? Were the great nations formed under the influence
of Catholicity, the laws and institutions impregnated with that divine
religion, to be corrupted, falsified, and destroyed by changes in the
ancient faith? In fine, was the course of European civilization to be
violently diverted, and were the nations who were already advancing
towards a peaceful, prosperous, and glorious future, to be condemned to
see their most flattering hopes dissipated in a moment, and miserably
to retrograde towards barbarism? Such was then the vast problem placed
before society; and I fear not to assert that the religious movement
which at that time displayed itself in so extraordinary a manner, and
the new religious institutions, so inconsiderately accused of folly
and extravagance, were a powerful means employed by Providence to
save religion and society. If the illustrious Spaniard, St. Dominic
de Guzman, and the wonderful man of Assisi, did not occupy a place
on our altars, there to receive the veneration of the faithful for
their eminent sanctity, they would deserve to have statues raised
to them by the gratitude of society and humanity. But what! are our
words an object of scandal to you, who have only read and considered
history through the deceitful medium of Protestant and philosophical
prejudices? Tell us, then, what you find reprehensible in these men,
whose establishments have been the subject of your endless diatribes,
as if they had been the greatest calamities of the human race? Their
doctrines are those of the Gospel; they are the same doctrines, to the
loftiness and sanctity whereof you have been compelled to render solemn
homage, and their lives are pure, holy, heroic, and conformable in
every thing to their teachings. Ask them what is the object they have
in view; that of preaching the Catholic truth to all men, they will
tell you; of making every effort, of exerting every energy to destroy
error and reform morals; of inspiring nations with the respect which is
due to all legitimate authorities, civil and ecclesiastical. That is to
say, you will find among them a firm resolution to devote their lives
to remedy the evils of Church and State.
They do not content themselves with barren wishes; they are not
satisfied with a few discourses and transitory efforts; they do not
confine their plans to their mere personal sphere, but, extending
their views to all countries and future times, they found institutions
whereof the members may spread themselves over the whole surface of
the world, and transmit to future generations the apostolical spirit
which has inspired them with their grand ideas. The poverty to which
they condemn themselves is extreme; the dress they wear is rude and
miserable; but do you not see the profound reasons for this conduct?
Remember that they propose to renew the gospel spirit, so much
forgotten in their time; that they frequently happen to meet face to
face the emissaries of the corrupt sects, who, endeavoring to imitate
Christian humility, and affecting an absolute disinterestedness, make
a parade of presenting themselves in public in the garb of beggars;
remember, in fine, that they go to preach to semi-barbarous nations,
and that to preserve them from the giddiness of error which has
begun to take possession of their heads, words are not enough, even
accompanied by a regular and uniform conduct; extraordinary examples,
a mode of life which bears with it the most powerful edification, and
sanctity clothed with an exterior adapted to make a lively impression
on the imagination, are required.
The number of the new religious is very considerable; they increase
without measure in all the countries where they are established;
they are found, not only in the country and in the hamlets, but they
penetrate into the midst of the most populous cities. Observe, that
Europe is no longer composed of a collection of small towns and
wretched cottages erected round feudal castles, and humbly obedient
to the authority or the influence of a proud baron; Europe no longer
consists of villages grouped round rich abbeys, listening with docility
to the instructions of the monks, and receiving with gratitude the
benefits conferred on them. A great number of vassals have already
thrown off the yoke of their lords; powerful municipalities arise
on all sides, and in their presence the feudal system is frequently
compelled to humble itself in alarm. Towns become every day more
populous--every day, from the effects of the emancipation which takes
place in the country, they receive new families. Reviving industry
and commerce display new means of subsistence, and excite an increase
of population. It results from all this that religion and morality
must act upon the nations of Europe on a larger scale; more general
means, issuing from a common centre, and freed from ordinary fetters,
are necessary to satisfy the new necessities of the time. Such are
the religious institutions of the time of which we speak; this is the
explanation of their astonishing number, of their numerous privileges,
and of that remarkable regulation which places them under the immediate
control of the Pope.
Even the character which marked these institutions--a character in
some degree democratic, not only because men of all classes are
there united, but also because of the special organization of their
government--was eminently calculated to give efficacy to their
influence over a democracy, fierce, turbulent, and proud of its recent
liberty, and consequently little disposed to sympathize with any thing
which might have been presented to it under aristocratic or exclusive
forms. This democracy found in these new religious institutions a
certain analogy with its own existence and origin. These men come from
the people, they live in constant communication with them, and, like
them, they are poor and meanly clad; and as the people have their
assemblies where they choose their municipal officers and bailiffs,
so do the religious hold their chapters, where they name their priors
and provincials. They are not anchorites living in remote deserts, nor
monks sheltered in rich abbeys, nor clergy whose functions and duties
are confined to any particular country. They are men without fixed
abodes, and who are found sometimes in populous cities and sometimes in
miserable hamlets--to-day in the midst of the old continent, to-morrow
on a vessel which bears them to perilous missions in the remotest
countries of the globe; sometimes they are seen in the palaces of
kings, enlightening their councils, and taking part in the highest
affairs of state; sometimes in the dwellings of obscure families,
consoling them in misfortune, making up their quarrels, and giving them
advice on their domestic affairs. These same men, who are covered with
glory in the chairs of the universities, teach catechism to children
in the humblest boroughs; illustrious orators who have preached in
courts, before kings and great men, go to explain the Gospel in obscure
villages. The people find them everywhere, meet them at every step, in
joy and in sorrow; these men are constantly ready to take part in the
happy festivities of a baptism which fills the house with joy, or to
lament a misfortune which has just covered it with mourning.
We can imagine without difficulty the force and ascendency of such
institutions. This influence on the minds of nations must have been
incalculable; the new sects which tended to mislead the multitude
by their pestilential doctrines, found themselves face to face with
an adversary who completely conquered them. They wished to seduce
the simple by the ostentation of great austerity and wonderful
disinterestedness; they desired to deceive the imagination, by striking
it with the sight of exterior mortification, of poor and mean clothing.
The new institutions united these qualities in an extraordinary
manner. Thus the true doctrine had the same attributes which error
had assumed. From among the classes of the people there come forth
violent declaimers, who captivate the attention and take possession of
the minds of the multitude by fiery eloquence. In all parts of Europe
we meet with burning orators, pleading the cause of truth, who, well
versed in the passions, ideas, and tastes of the multitude, know how to
interest, move, and direct them, making use, in defence of religion, of
what others attempt to avail themselves of in attacking her. They are
found wheresoever they are wanted to combat the efforts of sects. Free
from all worldly ties, and belonging to no particular church, province,
or kingdom, they have all the means of passing rapidly from one place
to another, and are found at the proper time wherever their presence is
urgently required.
The strength of association, known to the sectaries, and used by them
with so much success, is found in a remarkable degree in these new
religious institutions. The individual has no will of his own: a vow
of perpetual obedience has placed him at the disposal of another's
will; and this latter is in his turn subject to a third; thus there is
formed a chain, whereof the first link is in the hands of the Pope;
the strength of association, and that of unity, are thus united in
authority. There is all the motion, all the warmth of a democracy; all
the vigor, all the promptitude of monarchy.
It has been said that these institutions were a powerful support to
the authority of the Popes; this is certain: we may even add, that if
these institutions had not existed, the fatal schism of Luther would
perhaps have taken place centuries earlier. But, on the other hand,
we must allow that the establishment of them was not due to projects
of the papacy; the Sovereign Pontiffs did not conceive the idea of
them; isolated individuals, guided by superior inspiration, formed the
design, traced out the plan, and submitting that plan to the judgment
of the Holy See, asked for authority to realize their enterprise.
Civil institutions, intended to consolidate and aggrandize the power
of kings, emanate sometimes from monarchs themselves, sometimes from
some of their ministers, who, identifying themselves with their views
and interests, have formed and executed the idea of the throne. It is
not thus with the power of the Popes; the support of new institutions
contributes to sustain that power against the attacks of dissenting
sects; but the idea of founding the institutions themselves comes
neither from the Popes nor their ministers. Unknown men suddenly arise
among the people; nothing which has taken place affords reason to
suspect them of having any previous understanding with Rome; their
entire lives attest that they have acted by virtue of inspiration,
communicated to themselves, an inspiration which does not allow them
any repose, until they have executed what was prescribed to them. There
are not, there cannot be, any private designs of Rome; ambition has
no share. From this, all sensible men should draw one of these two
consequences: either the appearance of these new institutions was the
work of God, who was desirous of saving His Church by sustaining her
against new attacks, and protecting the authority of the Roman Pontiff;
or, Catholicity herself contained within her breast a saving instinct
which led her to create these institutions, which were required to
enable her to come triumphant out of the fearful crisis in which she
was engaged. To Catholics, these two propositions are identical: in
both we see only the fulfilment of the promise, "_On this rock I will
build my Church, and the gates of hell shall never prevail against
her._" Philosophers who do not regard things by the light of faith,
in order to explain this phenomenon, may make use of what terms they
please; but they will be compelled to acknowledge that wonderful wisdom
and the highest degree of foresight appear at the bottom of these
facts. If they persist in not acknowledging the finger of God, and in
seeing in the course of events only the fruit of well-concerted plans,
or the result of organization combined with art, at least they cannot
refuse a sort of homage to these plans and that organization. Indeed,
as they confess that the power of the Roman Pontiff, considered in
relations merely philosophical, is the most wonderful of all the powers
which have appeared on earth, is it not evident that the society called
the Catholic Church shows in her conduct, in the spirit of life which
animates her, and in the instinct which makes her resist her greatest
enemies, the most incomprehensible combination of phenomena which have
ever been witnessed in society? It is of little importance to the
truth, whether you call this instinct, mystery, spirit, or whatever
name you please. Catholicity defies all societies, all sects, and all
schools, to realize what she has realized, to triumph over what she
has triumphed over, and to pass through, without perishing, the crises
through which she has passed. A few examples, where the work of God was
more or less imitated, may be alleged against us; but the magicians
of Egypt, placed in the presence of Moses, came to an end of their
artifices; the envoy of God performed wonders which they could not; and
they were compelled to exclaim, "_The finger of God is here--the finger
of God is here!_"
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS FOR THE REDEMPTION OF CAPTIVES.
When viewing the religious institutions produced by the Church during
the thirteenth century, we did not pause to consider one among them,
which, to the merit of participating in the glory of the others, adds a
peculiar character of beauty and sublimity, and which is inexpressibly
worthy of our attention: I speak of that institution, the object of
which was to redeem captives from the hands of the Infidels. If I
make use of this general designation, it is because I do not intend
to enter into a particular examination of the various branches which
compose it. I consider the unity of the object, and, on account of that
unity, I attribute unity to the institution itself. Thanks to the happy
change which has taken place in the circumstances which occasioned
its foundation, we can now scarcely estimate the institution at its
just value, and appreciate in a proper manner the beneficent influence
and the holy enthusiasm which it must have produced in all Christian
countries.
In consequence of the long wars with the Infidels, a very great number
of the faithful groaned in fetters, deprived of their liberty and
country, and often in danger of apostatizing from the faith of their
fathers. The Moors still occupied a considerable part of Spain; they
reigned exclusively on the coasts of Africa, and proudly triumphed in
the East, where the Crusaders had been vanquished. The Infidels thus
held the south of Europe closely confined, and were constantly able to
seize favorable moments, and procure multitudes of Christian slaves.
The revolutions and disorders of those times continually offered
favorable opportunities; both hatred and cupidity urged them to gratify
their revenge on the Christians taken unawares. We may be sure that
this was one of the severest scourges which the human race had to
endure at that time in Europe. If the word charity was to be any thing
more than a mere name, if the nations of Europe were not to allow their
bonds of fraternity and the ties which connected their common interests
to be destroyed, there was an urgent necessity for them to come to an
understanding, in order to remedy this evil. The veteran who, instead
of a reward for his long services to religion and his country, had
found slavery in the depths of a dungeon; the merchant who, ploughing
the seas to carry provisions to the Christian armies, had fallen
into the power of an implacable enemy, and paid by heavy chains for
the boldness of his enterprise; the timid virgin who, playing upon
the sea-shore, had been perfidiously carried away by the merciless
pirates, like a dove borne away by a hawk:--all these unfortunate
beings had undoubtedly some right to be looked at with compassion by
their brethren in Europe, and to have an effort made to restore them to
liberty.
How shall this charitable end be attained? Can means be employed to
accomplish an enterprise which cannot be confided either to force or
stratagem? Nothing is more fertile in resources than Catholicity.
Whatever may be the necessity which presents itself, she immediately
finds proper means of succor and remedy, if allowed to act with
freedom. The remonstrances and negotiations of Christian princes
could obtain nothing in favor of the captives; new wars undertaken
for this purpose only served to increase the public calamities--they
deteriorated the lot of those who groaned in slavery, and perhaps
increased their number, by sending them fresh companions in misfortune;
pecuniary means, without a central point of action and direction,
produced but little fruit, and were lost in the hands of agents. What
resource, then, does there remain? The powerful resource which is
always found in the hands of the Catholic religion--the secret whereby
she accomplishes her greatest enterprises, viz. _charity_.
But how ought this charity to act? In the same way as all the virtues
of Catholicity. This divine religion, which has come down from the
loftiest regions, and constantly raises the human mind to sublime
meditations, presents at the same time a singular characteristic,
whereby she is distinguished from all the schools and sects who have
attempted to imitate her. In spite of the spirit of abstraction, if I
may so speak, which holds her continually detached from earthly things,
she has nothing vague, unsubstantial, or merely theoretical. With her,
all is speculative and practical, sublime and simple; she adapts and
accommodates herself to all that is compatible with the truth of her
dogmas and the severity of her maxims. While her eyes are fixed on
heaven, she forgets not that she is on earth, and that she has to deal
with mortal men, subject to miseries and calamities. With one hand she
shows them eternity, with the other she succors their misfortunes,
solaces their pains, and dries up their tears. She does not content
herself with barren words; the love of our neighbor is to her nothing,
if that love does not manifest itself in giving bread to him who is
hungry, drink to him who is thirsty; in clothing the naked, consoling
the afflicted, visiting the sick, solacing the prisoner, and redeeming
the captive. To make use of an expression of this age, I will say that
religion is eminently _positive_. Wherefore she labors to realize
her ideas by means of beneficent and fruitful institutions, thereby
distinguishing herself from human philosophy, the pompous language
and gigantic projects of which form so miserable a contrast with the
littleness and nothingness of its works. Religion speaks little, but
she meditates and executes as the worthy daughter of that infinite
Being who, although absorbed in the contemplation of an ocean of light,
His own essence and His impenetrable nature, has not the less created
the universe the object of our admiration, and ceases not to preserve
it with ineffable goodness, while governing it with incomprehensible
wisdom.
It was necessary to go to the succor of the unhappy captives;
assuredly, therefore, we should applaud the idea of a vast association,
which, extending over all the countries of Europe, and placing itself
in connection with all the Christians who would give alms in favor
of so holy a work, would have in its service a certain number of
individuals always ready to traverse the seas, and resolved to brave
slavery and death for the redemption of their brethren. Numerous means
would be thus combined, and the good employment of the funds would be
secured. There was a certainty that the negotiations for the redemption
of captives would be conducted by men of zeal and experience; in a
word, such an association would completely fulfil its object; and when
it was established, the Christians might hope for the most prompt and
efficacious succor. Now, this was precisely the idea realized in the
foundation of the religious orders for the redemption of captives.
The religious who embraced these orders bound themselves by vow to the
accomplishment of this work of charity. Free from the embarrassments of
family relations and worldly interests, they could devote themselves to
their task with all the ardor of their zeal. Long voyages, the perils
of the sea, the danger of unhealthy climates, or the ferocity of the
Infidels--nothing stopped them. In their dress, in the prayers of
their institution, they found a constant remembrance of the vow which
they had taken in the Divine presence. Neither repose, comfort, nor
even their very lives, any longer belong to them; all are become the
property of the unhappy captives, who groan in the dungeons or wear
heavy chains in presence of their masters, on the other side of the
Mediterranean. The families of the unhappy victims, fixing their eyes
on the religious, required of him the accomplishment of his promise;
their groans and lamentations continually urge him to find means, and
to expose his life, if necessary, to restore the father to the son, the
son to the father, the husband to the wife, the innocent young girl to
her desolate mother.
From the earliest ages of Christianity we see great zeal displayed
for the redemption of captives, which has always been preserved,
and the inspiration of which from that time has called forth the
greatest sacrifices. The seventeenth chapter of this work, and the
notes attached to it, have incontestably proved this truth; and it
is not necessary that I should stay to confirm it here. Yet I will
not lose the opportunity of observing that the Church, in the present
case, as in all circumstances, has adopted her constant rule, viz.
to realize her ideas by means of institutions. If you observe her
conduct attentively, you will find that she begins by teaching and
highly extolling a virtue; then she mildly persuades men to put it
in practice; the practice extends and gains strength, and what was
merely a good work becomes for some a work of obligation; what was
a simple wise act is converted into a strict duty for some select
men. At all times has the Church been engaged in the redemption of
captives; at all times some Christians of heroic charity have stripped
themselves of their property, of their liberty, to accomplish this
work of mercy; but this care was still left to the discretion of the
faithful, and no bodies of men existed to represent this charitable
idea. New necessities arise; the ordinary means do not suffice; it is
necessary that aid should be collected with promptitude, and employed
with discernment; charity, as it were, requires an arm always ready
to execute her orders; a permanent institution becomes necessary; the
institution appears, and the want is satisfied.
We are so accustomed to see the beautiful and the sublime in the work
of religion, that we scarcely observe the greatest prodigies there,
in the same way as, while profiting by the benefits of nature, we
look upon her most wonderful works and productions with an eye of
indifference. The different religious institutions which, under various
forms, have appeared since the beginning of Christianity, are worthy
of exciting in the highest degree the astonishment of the philosopher
and the Christian; but I doubt whether it be possible to find in
the whole history of these institutions any thing more beautiful,
interesting, and touching, than the picture of the orders for the
redemption of captives. Does there exist a more admirable symbol of
religion protecting the unfortunate? Which is the most sublime emblem
of the redemption consummated on Calvary and extending itself to
earthly captivity? Is it not the celebrated vision which preceded the
establishment of the holy institutes of Mercy and the Trinity? Some
will say that these apparitions were only chimeras and mere illusions!
Happy are those illusions, we will reply, which produce the consolation
of the human race! However this may be, we will here recall these
visions, braving, if necessary, the smiles of the incredulous. If they
have preserved in their hearts any generous feelings, they will be
compelled to allow that if these visions appear to them devoid of all
historical truth, there is at least in the sublime sacrifice which is
made by the man who devotes himself to slavery for the ransom of his
brethren, a lofty poetry, a sincere love of the human race, an ardent
desire to succor them, and an heroic disinterestedness.
A doctor of the University of Paris, known by his virtues and his
wisdom, had just been raised to the priesthood, and celebrated for
the first time the holy sacrifice of the altar. In consideration of
these exalted favors of the Most High, he redoubles his ardor, he
excites his faith, and endeavors to offer to the Lamb without spot,
with all the recollection, purity, and fervor of which he is capable,
his heart inundated with favors and inflamed by charity. He knows
not how to manifest to God his profound gratitude for so great a
benefit; his lively desire is to be able to prove to Him in some way
his gratitude and his love. He who had said, "What you have done to
one of my little children you have done to myself," immediately showed
him a way to exhibit the fire of his charity. The vision begins: the
priest sees an angel whose dress is white as snow and as brilliant
as light; the angel wears on his breast a red and blue cross; at his
sides are two captives, the one a Christian, the other a Moor; he
places his hands over the heads of each. At this sight, the priest,
ravished into ecstasy, understands that God calls him to the holy
work of the redemption of captives; but before going any further, he
retires into solitude, and devotes himself for three years to prayer
and penance, humbly begging of the Lord that He would make known to him
His sovereign will. In the desert he met with a pious hermit; the two
solitaries aid each other by their prayers and examples. One day, when
they were absorbed in pious communication by the side of a fountain, a
stag suddenly appears to them bearing on his horns the mysterious cross
of two colors. The priest relates to his astonished companion the first
vision which he has had; both redouble their prayers and penances; both
receive the celestial admonition for the third time. Then, unwilling
any longer to defer the accomplishment of the Divine pleasure, they
hasten to Rome, and ask of the Sovereign Pontiff his counsels and
permission. The Pope, who at the same time had had a similar vision,
joyfully accedes to the request of the two pious solitaries; the
order of the Most Holy Trinity for the Redemption of Captives is thus
established. The priest was called John of Matha; the hermit, Felix of
Valois. They apply with ardent zeal to their work of charity; after
having dried up the tears of numbers of unhappy beings, they now
receive in heaven the reward of their labors. The Church, wishing to
celebrate their memories, has placed them on her altars.
The foundation of the order of Mercy had a similar origin. St. Peter
Nolasco, having spent all he possessed in the redemption of captives,
had sought in vain for new resources to continue his pious undertaking.
He had set himself to pray, in order to strengthen himself in his holy
resolution of selling his own liberty, or remaining himself a captive
in the place of some of his brethren. During his prayer the Blessed
Virgin appeared to him; she gave him to understand how pleasing the
foundation of an order for the redemption of captives would be to
herself and her Divine Son. The saint, after consulting the King of
Aragon and St. Raymond of Penafort, proceeded to the establishment
of the order. He converted into a vow, not only for himself but for
all those who embraced the institute, the holy desire which he had
previously had to devote himself to slavery for the ransom of his
brethren.
I repeat what I have already said: in whatever manner you judge
of these apparitions, and if even you attempt to lay them aside
altogether as mere illusions, it is not the less proved that the
Catholic religion has labored with immense power to relieve a great
misfortune, and that no one can call in question the utility of the
holy institution in which the heroism of charity is so wonderfully
personified. Indeed, supposing that the founder, the dupe of illusions,
took for a revelation from heaven what was only the inspiration of
ardent zeal, do not the benefits lavished on the unhappy captives
remain the same? We hear much of illusions; but certain it is that
these illusions produced a reality. When St. Peter Armengol, wanting
all resources to deliver some unfortunates, remained as a hostage in
their place, and when the day of ransom had expired, resigned himself
to be hung because the money had not arrived from Europe, the illusions
certainly did not remain sterile. What reality could produce greater
prodigies of zeal and heroism? Long ago have the things of religion
been condemned as illusions and madness; from the earliest times of
Christianity the mystery of the cross was treated as folly; but we do
not see that this prevented the pretended folly from changing the face
of the world.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE UNIVERSAL PROGRESS OF CIVILIZATION IMPEDED BY PROTESTANTISM.
In the rapid sketch which I have just given, my intention has not been
to write the history of the religious orders; this did not form part
of my design. I am satisfied with having offered a series of remarks
which, by showing the importance of these institutions, were calculated
to vindicate Catholicity from the accusations made against her on
account of the protection which she has at all times afforded them. How
could a comparison be made between Catholicity and Protestantism in
their relations with the civilization of Europe, without devoting a few
pages to the examination of the influence which these institutions have
exercised on civilization? Now, if it is once shown that this influence
was salutary, Protestantism, which has persecuted and calumniated
these religious institutions with so much hatred and rancor, remains
convicted of having done violence to the history of our civilization,
of having mistaken its spirit, and still more of having aimed a blow at
the legitimate development of that civilization itself.
These reflections naturally lead me to point out another fault
which Protestantism has committed. When breaking the unity of
European civilization, it introduced discord into the bosom of that
civilization, and weakened the physical and moral action which it
exercised on the rest of the world. Europe was apparently destined to
civilize the whole world. The superiority of her intelligence, the
preponderance of her strength, the superabundance of her population,
her enterprising and valiant character, her transports of generosity
and heroism, her communicating and propagating spirit, seemed to call
her to diffuse her ideas, feelings, laws, manners, and institutions to
the four quarters of the universe. How does it happen that she has not
realized this destiny? How does it happen that barbarism is still found
at her gates, and that Islamism still maintains itself in one of the
finest climates and countries of Europe? Asia, with her want of moving
power, weakness, despotism, and degradation of women; Asia, with all
the disgraces of humanity, lies under our eyes; and scarcely have we
done any thing which gives reason to hope that she will emerge from her
degraded state. Asia Minor, the coasts of Palestine, Egypt, and the
whole of Africa, are before us in a deplorable condition--a degradation
which excites pity, and forms a melancholy contrast with the great
recollections of history. America, after four centuries of incessant
communication with us, is still so much behindhand that a great part
of her intellectual powers and the resources with which nature has
furnished her, remain until this day to be improved. How does it happen
that Europe, full of life, rich in means of all kinds, overflowing
with vigor and energy, has remained within the narrow limits in which
she still is? If we pay deep attention to this melancholy phenomenon,
a phenomenon with which it is very strange that the philosophy of
history has not occupied itself, we shall find the cause. The entire
cause thereof is the want of unity; her external action has been
without concert, and consequently without efficacy. Men constantly
vaunt the utility of association; they point out how necessary it
is to obtain grand results, and they do not dream that because this
principle applies to nations as well as to individuals, nations, like
individuals, cannot accomplish great works, without conforming to
this general law. When an assemblage of nations of the same origin,
and subject for many ages to the same influence, have reached the
development of their civilization under the guidance and control of a
common idea, among them association becomes a real necessity; they form
a family of brothers; now, among brothers, division and discord have
worse results than among strangers.
I do not pretend to say that the nations of Europe could have
attained to so perfect a concord, that perpetual peace would have
been established among them, and that perfect harmony would have
eventually presided over all their undertakings with respect to the
other countries of the globe; but without giving way to beautiful
illusions, the reality whereof is beyond the bounds of possibility, we
may nevertheless, and without hazard of contradiction, say, that, in
spite of particular differences between nation and nation, in spite of
the greater or less degree of opposition between external and internal
interests, Europe could have kept and perpetuated in her own breast
a civilizing idea which, raising itself above all the misery and
littleness of human passions, would have placed her in a condition to
acquire a greater ascendency and a stronger and more useful influence
over the other nations of the world. Amid the interminable series of
wars and calamities which afflicted Europe during the fluctuations
of the barbarous nations, this unity of thought existed; and it was
owing to it that order in the end came out of confusion, and that
light conquered darkness. In the long struggle of Christianity against
Islamism, whether in Europe, Asia, or Africa, this same unity of
thought enabled Christian civilization to triumph, in spite of the
rivalries of kings and the excesses of the people. While this unity
existed, Europe preserved a transforming power which made all that it
touched become European sooner or later.
The heart is grieved at the sight of the disastrous event which broke
this precious unity, by diverting the course of our civilization and
destroying its fertilizing power. One can hardly observe without pain,
not to say without anger, that the appearance of Protestantism was
exactly coincident with the critical moment when the nations of Europe,
about at length to reap the fruits of long ages of continued labor
and unheard-of efforts, appeared to the world full of vigor, energy,
and splendor. Putting forth gigantic strength, they discovered new
worlds, and placed one hand on the East and the other on the West.
Vasco de Gama had doubled the Cape of Good Hope, he had showed the way
to the East Indies, and opened communication with unknown nations.
Christopher Columbus, with the fleet of Isabella, ploughed the Western
seas, discovered a new world, and planted the standard of Castile in
unheard-of lands. Ferdinand Cortez, at the head of a handful of brave
men, penetrated to the heart of the new continent, and took possession
of its capital; his arms, which the natives had not yet seen, made him
appear like a God launching his lightnings. Europe everywhere displayed
extreme activity; a spirit of enterprise was developed in all hearts;
the hour had come when the nations of Europe were about to see open
before them a new horizon of power and grandeur, the limits whereof
were invisible to the eye. Magellan discovered the strait which united
the east and west; and Sebastian d'Elcano, returning to the Spanish
coasts, after having made the tour of the world, seemed to be the
sublime personification of European civilization taking possession of
the universe. At one extremity of Europe, the crescent still shows
itself powerful and threatening, like a dark figure appearing in the
corner of a splendid picture: but fear nothing; its armies have been
driven from Granada, the Christian host is encamped on the coast of
Africa, the standard of Castile floats on the walls of Oran, and in
the heart of Spain grows up in silence the wonderful child, who, when
he has but just laid aside the playthings of his age, will frustrate
the last efforts of the Moors of that country by the triumphs of
Alpujarres, and shortly after will break the Mussulman power for ever
on the waves of Lepanto.
The development of mind kept pace with the increase of power. Erasmus
examined all the sources of knowledge, astonished the world by his
talents and his learning, and spread his fame in triumph from one
end of Europe to the other. The distinguished Spaniard, Louis Vives,
rivalled the _savant_ of Rotterdam, and undertook nothing less than to
regenerate the sciences, and give a new direction to the human mind. In
Italy, the schools of philosophy were in a state of fermentation, and
they seized with avidity the new lights brought from Constantinople.
In the same country, the genius of Dante and Petrarch was continued
in their illustrious successors; the land of Tasso resounded with his
accents like the nightingale announcing the coming of the dawn; while
Spain, intoxicated with her triumphs, and transported with pride at
the sight of her conquests, sang like a soldier who, after victory,
reposes on a heap of trophies. What could resist such superiority, such
brilliant display, such great power? Europe, already secure against all
her enemies, enjoying a prosperity which must every day increase, put
in possession of laws and institutions better than any which had before
been seen, and whereof the completion and perfection could not fail to
come with the slow progress of time: Europe, we say, in a condition so
prosperous, replete with noble hopes, was about to commence the work
of civilizing the world. Even the discoveries which were every day
made, indicated that the happy moment had arrived. Fleets transported,
together with warriors, apostolic missionaries, whose hands were
about to scatter in the new countries the precious seed, whence, in
the progress of time, was to grow up the tree under whose shadow new
nations were to find shelter. Thus was the noble work begun, which,
favored by Providence, was about to civilize America, Africa, and Asia.
But the voice of the apostate who was about to cast discord into the
bosoms of fraternal nations already resounded in the heart of Germany.
The dispute begins, minds are excited, the irritation reaches its
height, an appeal is made to arms, blood flows in torrents, and the man
who had been commissioned by hell to scatter this cloud of calamities
over the earth, contemplating before his death the dreadful fruit of
his labors, can insult the sorrows of the human race with a cruel and
impudent smile. Such do we figure to ourselves the genius of evil
leaving his dark abode and his throne in the midst of horrors. He
suddenly appears on the face of the globe, his hand sheds desolation
and tears on all sides; he casts a look over the devastation which he
has made, and then buries himself in eternal darkness.
By extending itself over Europe, the schism of Luther weakened in a
deplorable manner the action of Europeans on the other nations of the
world; the flattering hopes which had been conceived were dissipated
in a moment, and became no more than a golden dream. Henceforth, the
largest part of our intellectual, moral, and physical powers was
condemned to be employed and sadly wasted in a struggle which armed
brethren against brethren. The nations which had preserved Catholicity
were compelled to concentrate all their resources, power, and energy,
in order to make head against the impious attacks which the new
sectaries made upon them by the press or by force of arms. The nations
among whom the contagion of the new errors had been propagated were
thrown into a sort of giddiness; they had no other enemies but the
Catholics, and they considered only one enterprise worthy of their
efforts--the degradation and destruction of the Roman See. Their
thoughts no longer tended towards the invention of means for improving
the lot of the human race; the immense field which had been thrown
open to noble ambition by the recent discoveries, no longer merited
attention; for them there was only one holy work--that of destroying
the authority of the Roman Pontiff.
This condition of men's minds struck with sterility the ascendency over
nations recently discovered or conquered, which naturally belonged to
Europeans. When the nations of Europe simultaneously approached new
regions, they no longer met as brothers or generous rivals, stimulated
by noble ambition; they were exasperated and implacable enemies, men
who differed in religion, and who fought battles against each other
as bloody as those which had formerly been witnessed between the
Christians and the Moors. The name of the Christian religion, which had
been the symbol of peace for so many ages--a name which on the eve of
battle was able to compel adversaries to lay aside their hatred, and
embrace like brothers, instead of tearing each other in pieces like
lions; a name which had served as an ensign to secure their triumph
over Mohammedan legions: this name, now disfigured by sacrilegious
hands, became a type of discord; and after Europe had been covered
with blood and mourning, the scandal was transported to the nations of
the New World. These simple and confiding nations were stricken with
stupefaction on seeing the miseries, the spirit of division, hatred,
and revenge which reigned among the same men upon whom they had just
looked as demigods.
From that time forward, the forces of Europe were not united in any of
those great enterprises which had shed so much glory on previous ages.
The Catholic missionary, watering the Indian or American forests with
his sweat and blood, could reckon on the assistance of the nation to
which he belonged, if that nation remained Catholic; but he could not
hope that all Europe, uniting in the work of God, would come to sustain
the distant missions with her resources; he knew, on the contrary, that
a great many Europeans would calumniate and insult him, and use all
imaginable means to prevent the seed of the gospel from taking root on
the new soil, and increasing the power of the Popes, by adding to the
renown of the Catholic Church.
There was a time when the profanations of the Mussulmen in Jerusalem,
and the injuries inflicted on the pilgrims who visited the Holy
Sepulchre, were sufficient to arouse the indignation of all Christian
nations. They all uttered the cry, _To arms!_ and in crowds they
followed the monk who led them to avenge the outrages against religion
and the pious pilgrims. After the heresy of Luther, all was changed:
the death of a missionary sacrificed in a foreign land, his torments
and martyrdom, sublime scenes in which the zeal and charity of the
first ages of the Church reappeared with all their energy: all this
was devoted to contempt and ridicule by men who called themselves
Christians--the unworthy posterity of the heroes whose blood had flowed
under the walls of Jerusalem.
In order to conceive in its full extent the evil caused by
Protestantism in this respect, let us imagine for a moment that
Protestantism had not appeared; and in this hypothesis, let us make a
few reflections on the probable course of events. In the first place,
all the strength, genius, and resources which Spain employed to make
head in the religious wars excited on the continent, would have been
able to exert themselves in the New World. The same would have been
the case with France, the Low Countries, and England. These nations,
although divided, have been able to furnish brilliant and glorious
pages in history; if their action on the new countries had been united
and concentrated, would they not have exerted a vigor and energy which
would have been irresistible? Imagine all the ports from the Baltic
to the Adriatic sending their missionaries to the East and to the
West, as did France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy; imagine all the great
cities of Europe as so many centres where means for this great object
are collected; imagine all the missionaries guided by the same views,
under the influence of the same thought, and burning with the same zeal
for the propagation of the same faith; wherever they meet, they meet
as brothers, and co-operate in the common cause; all are under the
same authority: do you not imagine that you see the Christian religion
exerting herself on an immense scale, and everywhere gaining the most
signal triumphs? The vessel which bears the apostolic men to distant
regions may fearlessly unfurl her sails; when she discovers the flag of
another country on the horizon, she is under no apprehension of meeting
with enemies; she is sure of finding friends and brothers wherever
there are Europeans.
The Catholic missions, in spite of the obstacles which have been
opposed to them by the turbulent spirit of Protestantism, have
accomplished the most difficult enterprises, and realized prodigies
which form a brilliant page in modern history; but how much nobler
would have been their results, if Italy, Spain, Portugal, and France
had been supported by the whole of Germany, the United Provinces,
England, and other northern nations? This association was natural, and
must have been realized, had not the schism of Luther destroyed it. It
may be observed, moreover, that this fatal event not only placed an
obstacle in the way of universal association, but hindered the Catholic
nations themselves from devoting the greatest part of their resources
to the great work of converting and regenerating the world: they were
compelled to remain continually under arms, on account of religious
wars and civil discords. At this epoch the religious orders were
apparently called to be the arm of religion; by their means religion,
consolidated in Europe and satisfied with the social regeneration which
she had just worked, would have extended her action to the infidel
nations.
When we glance over the course of events during the earliest ages of
the Church, and compare them with those of modern times, we clearly
see that some powerful cause must have interfered in modern times to
oppose the propagation of the faith. Christianity appears, and she
extends herself immediately with rapidity, without any aid on the part
of men, and in spite of all the efforts of princes, sages, priests, the
passions, and of all the stratagems of hell. She is but of yesterday,
and already she is powerful, and prevails in all parts of the empire;
nations differing in language and manners, nations of various degrees
of civilization, abandon the worship of their false gods, and embrace
the religion of Jesus Christ. The barbarians themselves, as intractable
and indomitable as wild horses, listen to the missionaries who are sent
to them, and bow their heads; in the midst of conquest and victory,
they are seen to embrace the religion of those whom they have just
conquered. Christianity in modern times has been in possession of the
exclusive empire of Europe; and yet she has not been able to succeed
in introducing herself again on the coasts of Africa and Asia, which
lie under her eye. It is true, that the greatest part of America is
become Christian; but observe, that the nations of those countries
have been conquered; there the conquering nations have established
those governments which have lasted for ages; the European nations have
inundated the New World with their soldiers and colonies, so that a
considerable portion of America is a kind of importation from Europe;
consequently, the religious transformation of that country does not
resemble that which took place in the early ages of the Church. Turn
towards the West, where European arms have not obtained a decided
preponderance; see what takes place there: the nations are still
under the yoke of false religions. Christianity has not been able
to enlighten them; although the Catholic missions have obtained the
means of founding a few establishments more or less considerable, the
precious seed has not been able to take sufficient root in the soil,
in order to bear the fruits which ardent charity hoped for, and heroic
zeal labored to produce. From time to time, the rays of divine light
have penetrated to the heart of the great empires of Japan and China;
at certain moments flattering hopes might be conceived; but these hopes
have been dissipated, these rays of light have disappeared like a
brilliant meteor amidst the darkness of midnight.
What is the cause of this impotence? whence comes it that the
fertilizing power, after having been so great in the first ages, had
proved so vain in the last? Let us not examine the profound secrets of
Providence, or seek to inquire into the incomprehensible mysteries of
the Divine ways; but as far as it is given to a feeble spirit to learn
the truth by the evidences contained in the history of the Church, as
far as it is allowed us to carry our conjectures on the designs of the
Most High, according to the indications which the Lord himself has been
pleased to communicate to us, let us hazard an opinion on the facts:
although dependent on a superior order, they yet have an ordinary
course, which is regulated by God himself. The apostle St. Paul says
that faith comes from hearing. He asks, how it is possible to hear,
if there is no one who preaches, and how can there be preaching, if
there is no one who sends? Hence, we must conclude that missions are
necessary for the conversion of nations, since God has not thought fit
by constant miracles to send legions of angels from heaven to teach the
nations who are deprived of the light of the earth.
Having laid down this principle, I will say that what was required
for the conversion of infidel nations was the organization of
missions on a large scale. There were required missions which, by
the abundance of their resources and the number of their laborers,
might be in proportion to the greatness of the object. Observe that
the distances are immense, that the nations to whom the divine word
is to be announced are dispersed in many countries, and live under
the influence of laws, prejudices, and climates the most opposite
to the spirit of the Gospel. To make head against such vast wants,
and surmount such great difficulties, there was required a perfect
inundation of missionaries; without whom the result would remain
doubtful, the existence of religious establishments very precarious,
and the conversion of great nations little probable, unless Providence
interfered by one of those prodigies which change the face of the world
in an instant. Now Providence does not renew these prodigies every
moment; sometimes he does not even accord them to the most ardent
supplications of the Saints.
In order to form a complete idea of what took place in the latter
ages, let us pay attention to what exists. What is wanting to infidel
nations? What is the incessant cry of the zealous men who devote
themselves to the propagation of the Gospel? Do we not constantly
hear lamentations on the small number of laborers, and on the scanty
resources which are devoted to the subsistence of the missionaries? Is
not this penury of resources the cause of the associations now formed
among the Catholics of Europe?
The organization of missions on a large scale would have been realized
if Protestantism had not come to prevent it. The nations of Europe,
the privileged children of Providence, had the obligation and showed
a decided will to procure for the other nations of the world, by all
the means in their power, a participation in the benefits of the
faith. Unhappily this faith was weakened in Europe, it was given up to
the caprices of human reason, and henceforth what had before been of
easy execution became impossible. Providence, which had permitted the
deplorable disaster of the schism, permits also to be deferred to a
more remote period the happy day when the benighted nations shall enter
in great numbers into the fold of the Church.
But perhaps I shall be told that the zeal of modern Catholicity is not
that of the early ages of Christianity, and this is one of the reasons
which have prevented the conversion of infidel nations. I will not make
a long comparison on this point; I will not say all that might be said;
I will content myself with making an observation which will remove the
difficulty at once. Our Divine Saviour, in order to send His disciples
to preach the Gospel, wished that they should abandon all they had
and follow Him. The same Saviour, revealing to us the infallible sign
of true charity, tells us that there is nothing greater than to give
one's life for one's brethren. The Catholic missionaries of the three
last centuries have renounced all, have abandoned their country, their
families, all the comforts of life, all that can engage the heart
of man on earth; they have gone to seek the infidels amid the most
imminent dangers, and they have sealed with their blood, in all parts
of the world, their ardor for the conversion of their brethren, and for
the salvation of souls. I believe that such missionaries are worthy of
succeeding to those of the first ages of the Church; all declamations
and calumnies are impotent before the triumphant evidence of facts. The
Church of the early ages would be honored, like that of our times, by a
St. Francis Xavier and the martyrs of Japan.
We have spoken, also, of the abundance of the missionaries. The
Church had a wonderful fecundity for the conversion of the ancient
and barbarian world. At her first appearance, the fiery tongues of
the Cenacle and the multitude of prodigies made up for numbers, and
multiplied the servants of God. Nations of different languages,
listening to the same discourse, heard it at the same time each one in
his own tongue; but after this first impulse, by which the Almighty was
pleased to confound the powers of hell, things followed the ordinary
course, and a greater number of missionaries was required for a
greater number of conversions. The great centres of faith and charity,
the numerous churches of the East and West, furnished in abundance
the apostolic men necessary for the propagation of the faith; and
this sacred army had a powerful reserve at hand ready to make up its
deficiencies when sickness, fatigues, and martyrdom had thinned its
ranks. Rome was the centre of this great movement; but Rome, in order
to give the impulse, had no need either of fleets ready to transport
the holy colonies to many thousand places, or of great treasures
to support missionaries in desert regions and countries altogether
unknown. When the missionary, prostrate at the feet of the Sovereign
Pontiff, asked his apostolical benediction, the holy father could send
him in peace with his pastoral staff alone; he knew that the Gospel
envoy was about to traverse Christian countries, and that even in
idolatrous lands he would not be far from princes already converted,
from bishops, priests, and faithful nations; none of whom would refuse
succor to him who went to sow the divine word in the neighboring
countries.
I leave the reflections which I have just made, on the injury done to
the influence of Europe by the schism of Protestantism, with confidence
to the judgment of thinking men. I am deeply convinced that this
influence thereby received a terrible blow. Without the fatal event of
the sixteenth century, the condition of the world would now be very
different from what it is. I may, no doubt, delude myself in some
degree on this point; but I will appeal to simple good sense whether
it is not true, that unity of action, of principles, and of views, the
combination of resources, and the association of agents, are not in
all things the secret of success, and the surest guarantee for a happy
result. I will then ask whether Protestantism did not break this unity,
render this combination impossible, and this association impracticable?
Are not these facts indisputable, as clear as the light of day? These
facts are recent--they are of yesterday; what is their consequence?
what deduction should be drawn from them? Let impartiality, good sense,
and mere common sense, answer me, if they be only accompanied by good
faith.
To every thinking man, it is evident that Europe is not what she would
have been without the appearance of Protestantism; and certainly it
is not less evident, that the results of its civilizing influence
on the world have not answered the promises of the early years of
the sixteenth century. Let Protestants boast of having given a new
direction to European civilization; let them vaunt of having enfeebled
the spiritual power of the Popes, by removing millions of souls from
the sacred fold; let them glory in having destroyed the religious
orders in countries subject to their dominion--of having broken in
pieces the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and thrown the Bible in the midst
of ignorant crowds, with the assurance that, to understand the sacred
volume, private inspiration or the judgment of natural reason was
enough; yet it is not the less certain that the unity of the Christian
religion has disappeared among them, that they want a centre whence
great efforts may proceed, that they are without a guide, wandering
like a flock without a shepherd, blown about by every wind of doctrine,
and unable to bring forth the least of those great works which
Catholicity has produced, and still produces, in such abundance; it is
not the less certain that, by their eternal disputes, their calumnies,
their attacks upon the dogmas and the discipline of the Church, they
have compelled the latter to hold herself in an attitude of defence--to
contend for three centuries, depriving her of the precious time and
means which she would have used to complete the great projects intended
by her, and already so happily begun. Is it a merit to divide men,
to provoke discord, to excite wars, to change brother nations into
enemies, to convert the great family-party of nations into an arena for
rancorous strife? Is it a merit to throw discredit on the missionaries
who go to preach the Gospel to infidel nations--to place all imaginable
obstacles in their way--to employ every means to render their zeal
useless, and their charity without result? If, indeed, all this be a
merit, then I acknowledge that this merit belongs to Protestantism;
but if all this be disastrous, and injurious to humanity, it is
Protestantism which must be responsible for it.
When Luther said that he was charged with a high mission, he spoke
the truth, but a fearful and alarming truth, and one which he did
not understand. The sins of nations sometimes fill up the measure of
the patience of the Most High. The sound of human offences mounts to
heaven, and calls for vengeance; the Eternal, in His fearful anger,
sends down a look of fire upon the earth; then strikes the fatal hour
in His secret and infinite resolves, and the son of perdition, who
is to cover the world with mourning and desolation, appears. As the
cataracts of heaven were formerly opened to sweep the human race from
the face of the earth, so are the calamities which the God of vengeance
holds in reserve for the day of His anger, poured forth from their urn
and scattered over the world. The son of perdition raises his voice;
that moment is marked by the beginning of the catastrophe. The spirit
of evil moves over the whole face of the globe, bearing on his sable
pinions the echo of that ominous voice. An incomprehensible giddiness
takes possession of men's heads; the nations have eyes, and see not;
they have ears, and hear not; in their delirium, the most frightful
precipices appear to them smooth, peaceful, and flowery paths; they
call good evil, and evil good; they drink with feverish eagerness
of the poisoned cup; forgetfulness of all the past, ingratitude for
all benefits, seize all minds; the work of the genius of evil is
consummated; the prince of the rebellious spirits may again bury
himself in his empire of darkness; and the human race has learned, by
a terrible lesson, that the indignation of the Most High is not to be
provoked with impunity.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE JESUITS.
As I am treating of religious institutions, I must not pass over
in silence that celebrated order, which, from the first years of
its existence, assumed the stature of a colossus, and employed all
a giant's strength; that order which perished without having felt
decay; which did not follow the common course of others, either in its
foundation, in its development, or even in its fall; that order of
which it is truly and correctly said, that it had neither infancy nor
old age. It is clear that I speak of the society of Jesus, the Jesuits.
The name alone will be enough to alarm a certain class of readers; and,
therefore, in order to tranquillize them, I will say that I do not
here undertake to write an apology for the Jesuits; this task does not
belong to the character of my work; moreover, others have undertaken
it, and it is not necessary for me to repeat what is well known. But
it is impossible to call to mind the religious institutions, the
religious, political, and literary history of Europe, during the last
three centuries, without meeting the Jesuits at every step: we cannot
travel in the most distant countries, traverse unknown seas, visit the
most remote lands, or penetrate the most frightful deserts, without
finding everywhere under our feet some memorials of the Jesuits. On
the other hand, we cannot look at our libraries without immediately
remarking the writings of some Jesuits. Since this is the case, even
those among our readers who have the greatest horror of them, ought
to pardon us for fixing our attention for a moment on this institute
which has filled the world with its name. Even if we were to attach
no importance to their modern revival, and to regard their present
existence and their probable future as unworthy of examination, it
would still be altogether inexcusable not to speak of them, at least as
a historical fact. To pass them over in silence, would be to imitate
those ignorant and heartless travellers, who, with stupid indifference,
tread under foot the most interesting ruins and the most valuable
remains.
When we study the history of the Jesuits, this very extraordinary
circumstance is apparent: they have existed only for a few years, if
compared with the duration of other religious bodies, and yet there is
no religious order which has been the object of such keen animosity.
From their origin, they have had numerous enemies; never have they been
free from them, either in their prosperity and greatness, or in their
fall, or even after it; never has their persecution ceased; we should
rather say, never has the animosity with which they have been pursued
ceased. Since their reappearance, men have constantly fixed their eyes
upon them; they tremble lest they should resume their ancient power;
the splendor which is reflected on them by the recollections of their
brilliant history renders them visible everywhere, and augments the
fears of their enemies. How many men among us are more alarmed at the
foundation of a Jesuits' college than at an irruption of Cossacks!
There is, therefore, something very singular and extraordinary in this
institute, since it excites the public attention in so high a degree,
and its mere name disconcerts its enemies. Men do not despise the
Jesuits, but they fear them; sometimes they attempt to throw ridicule
on them; but when that weapon is employed against them, it is felt
that he who wields it is not sufficiently calm to use it with success.
In vain does he attempt to affect contempt; through the affectation
every one can perceive disquietude and anxiety. It is immediately seen
that he who attacks does not believe himself opposed to insignificant
adversaries. His bile is excited, his sallies become checked, his
words, steeped in a fearful bitterness, fall from his mouth like drops
from a poisoned cup; it is clear that he takes the affair to heart,
and does not look upon it as a mere joke. We fancy we hear him say to
himself, "Every thing affecting the Jesuits is extremely grave; there
is no playing with these men--no regard, no indulgence, no moderation
of any kind; it is necessary always to treat them with rigor,
harshness, and detestation; with them, the least negligence may become
fatal."
Unless I am much deceived, this is the best demonstration that can be
given of the eminent merit of the Jesuits. It must be the same with
classes and corporations as with individuals--very extraordinary merit
necessarily excites numerous enemies, for the simple reason that such
merit is always envied, and very often dreaded. In order to know the
real cause of this implacable hatred against them, it is enough to
consider who are their principal enemies. We know that Protestants and
infidels figure there in the first rank; in the second, we remark the
men who, with more or less clearness and resolution, show themselves
but little attached to the authority of the Roman Church. Both, in
their hatred against the Jesuits, are guided by a very rare instinct,
for truly they have never met with a more redoubtable adversary. This
reflection is worthy of the attention of sincere Catholics, who, for
one cause or another, entertain unjust prejudices. When we have to form
a judgment on the merit and conduct of a man, it is very often a sure
means of deciding between contrary opinions to inquire who are his
enemies.
When we fix our attention on the institute of the Jesuits, on the time
of its foundation, on the rapidity and greatness of its progress, we
find the important truth which I have before pointed out more and more
confirmed, viz., that the Catholic Church, with wonderful fruitfulness,
always furnishes an idea worthy of her to meet all the necessities
which arise. Protestantism opposed the Catholic doctrines with the pomp
and parade of knowledge and learning; the _éclat_ of human literature,
the knowledge of languages, the taste for the models of antiquity, were
all employed against religion with a constancy and ardour worthy of a
better cause. Incredible efforts were made to destroy the pontifical
authority; when they could not destroy it, they attempted at least to
weaken and discredit it. The evil spread with fearful rapidity; the
mortal poison already circulated in the veins of a considerable portion
of the European nations: the contagion began to be propagated even in
countries which had remained faithful to the truth. To complete the
misfortune, schism and heresy, traversing the seas, corrupted the faith
of the simple neophytes of the New World. What was to be done in such
a crisis? Could such great evils be remedied by ordinary means? Was
it possible to make head against such great and imminent perils by
employing common arms? Was it not proper to make some on purpose for
such a struggle, to temper the cuirass and shield, to fit them for this
new kind of warfare, in order that the cause of truth might not appear
in the new arena under fatal disadvantages? Who can doubt that the
appearance of the Jesuits was the answer to these questions, that their
institute was the solution of the problem?
The spirit of the coming ages was essentially one of scientific and
literary progress. The Jesuits were aware of this truth; they perfectly
understood it.
It was necessary to advance with rapidity and never to remain behind:
this the new institute does; it takes the lead in all sciences; it
allows none to anticipate it. Men study the oriental languages;
they produce great works on the Bible; they search the books of the
ancient Fathers, the monuments of tradition and of ecclesiastical
decisions: in the midst of this great activity, the Jesuits are at
their posts; many supereminent works issue from their colleges. The
taste for dogmatical controversy is spread over all Europe: many
schools preserve and love the scholastic discussions: immortal works
of controversy come from the hands of the Jesuits, at the same time
that they yield to none in skill and penetration in the schools. The
mathematics, astronomy, all the natural sciences, make great progress;
learned societies are formed in the capitals of Europe to cultivate
and encourage them: in these societies the Jesuits figure in the first
rank. The spirit of time is naturally dissolvent: the institute of
the Jesuits is interiorly armed against dissolution; in spite of the
rapidity of its course, it advances in a compact order, like the mass
of a powerful army. The errors, the eternal disputes, the multitude of
the new opinions, even the progress of the sciences, by exciting men's
minds, give a fatal inconstancy to the human intellect--an impetuous
whirlwind, agitating and stirring up all things, carries them away.
The order of the Jesuits appears in the midst of this whirlwind, but
it partakes neither of its inconstancy nor of its variability; it
pursues its career without losing itself; and while only irregularity
and vacillation are seen among its adversaries, it advances with a
sure step, tending towards its object, like a planet which performs
its orbit according to fixed laws. The authority of the Pope, assailed
with animosity by Protestants, was indirectly attacked by others with
stratagem and dissimulation; the Jesuits showed themselves faithfully
attached to that authority; they defend it wherever it is threatened;
like vigilant sentinels, they constantly watch over the preservation
of Catholic unity. Their knowledge, influence, and riches never affect
their profound submission to the authority of the Popes--a submission
which was ever their distinctive characteristic. In consequence of
the discovery of the new countries in the east and west, a taste for
travelling, for observing distant countries, for the knowledge of the
language, manners, and customs of the recently discovered nations, was
developed in Europe. The Jesuits, spread over the face of the globe,
while preaching the Gospel to the nations, do not forget the study of
the thousand things which may interest cultivated Europe; and at their
return from their gigantic expeditions, they are seen adding their
valuable treasures to the common fund of modern science.
How, then, can we be surprised that Protestants have been so violent
against an institute in which they found so terrible an enemy; and, on
the other hand, was there any thing more natural than to see all the
other enemies of religion, enemies some of whom were wholly unmasked
and some partially disguised, make common cause with Protestants on
this point? The Jesuits were a wall of brass against the assaults
upon the Catholic faith; it was resolved to undermine and overturn
this rampart; which in the end was accomplished. Very few years had
elapsed since the suppression of the Jesuits, and already the memory
of the great crimes which were imputed to them was effaced by the
ravages of an unexampled revolution. Men of good faith, whose excessive
confidence had believed perfidious calumnies, could convince themselves
that the riches, knowledge, influence, and the pretended ambition of
the Jesuits, would never have been as fatal as the triumph of their
enemies; these religious men would never have upset a throne or cut off
the head of a king on the scaffold.
M. Guizot, in glancing at European civilization, necessarily
encountered the Jesuits; and it must be acknowledged that he has not
done them the justice to which they are entitled. After having lamented
the inconsistency of the Protestant Reformation, and the narrow spirit
which guided it, after having confessed that Catholics knew very well
what they did and what they wished, and that they acted up to the
principles of their conduct and avowed all their consequences, M.
Guizot declares that there never was a more consistent government than
that of Rome, and that the court of Rome, always having a fixed idea,
has known how to pursue a consistent and regular line of conduct; he
extols the strength which results from a full knowledge of what one
does and what one wishes; he shows the advantage of a settled design,
and of the complete and absolute adoption of a principle and system;
that is to say, he makes a brilliant panegyric on, and a powerful
apology for, the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, M. Guizot finds the
Jesuits in his way, and unworthy as it is of such a mind as his, which,
in order to require just renown, has no need of burning incense before
vulgar prejudices or mean passions, he attempts, in passing, to throw
a reproach upon them. "Every one knows," says M. Guizot, "that the
principal power instituted to contend against the religious revolution,
was the order of the Jesuits. Throw a glance over their history; they
have failed everywhere; wherever they have interfered to any extent,
they have brought misfortune to the cause in which they have engaged.
In England they have destroyed kings, in Spain nations." M. Guizot had
just told us of the superiority which is obtained over an adversary by
regular and consistent conduct, by the complete and absolute adoption
of a system, and by a fixed idea; as a proof of all this he showed us
the Jesuits, he exhibited to us in them the expression of the system
of the Church; and behold, without any explanation, if not without a
motive, the writer suddenly changes his course; the advantages of the
system which he has just praised disappear from his eyes; for those who
follow this system, that is the Jesuits themselves, fail everywhere,
and everywhere bring misfortunes on the cause which they embrace. How
can such assertions be reconciled? The credit, influence, and sagacity
of the Jesuits have passed into a proverb. The reproach against them
was, of having extended their views too far, of having conceived
ambitious plans, and obtained by their skill a decided ascendency in
all the places where they succeeded in gaining entrance; Protestants
themselves have openly confessed that the Jesuits were their most
redoubtable adversaries; it was always thought that the foundation of
the order had an immense result, and now we learn from M. Guizot, that
the Jesuits have everywhere failed; that their support, far from being
a great succour, always brought fatality and misfortune to the cause
of which they declared themselves the advocates. If they were such
fatal servants, why were their services sought with so much eagerness?
If they always conducted affairs so ill, why have the most important
ones in the end fallen into their hands? Adversaries so foolish or so
unfortunate certainly ought not to have excited in the enemies' camp so
much clamor as was raised at their approach.
"In England the Jesuits have destroyed kings, in Spain nations."
Nothing is easier than these bold strokes of the pen; the whole of a
great history is traced in a single line, and an infinity of facts,
grouped and confounded, are made to pass under the eye of the reader
with the rapidity of lightning; the eye has not even time to look at
them, still less to analyze them as would be necessary. M. Guizot
should have devoted some sentences to prove his assertion; he should
have stated the facts and pointed out the reasons on which he builds,
when he affirms that the influence of the Jesuits has had so fatal an
effect. With respect to the kings of England here so boldly sacrificed,
I cannot enter into an examination of the religious and political
revolutions which agitated and desolated the three kingdoms for two
centuries after the schism of Henry VIII. These revolutions, in their
immense circle, have presented very different phases; disfigured and
perverted by the Protestants, who have success in their favor, that
decisive, if not convincing argument, they have made some men of
little reflection believe that the disasters of England were in great
part due to the imprudence of the Catholics, and, as an indispensable
corollary, to the pretended intrigues of the Jesuits. In spite of this,
the Catholic movement which England has witnessed for half a century,
and the great works which every day carry on the restoration of
Catholicity, will at last disperse the calumnies by which our faith has
been stigmatized. Before long, the history of the last three centuries
will be restored as it ought, and the truth will appear in its proper
light. This observation relieves me from the necessity of entering into
details on the subject of the first assertion of M. Guizot; but I must
not leave without reply what he so gratuitously affirms on the subject
of Spain.
"The Jesuits have destroyed nations in Spain," says M. Guizot; I wish
that the publicist had explained to us to what great disaster he
alluded. To what period does he refer? I have examined our history,
and I do not find this destruction which was caused by the Jesuits; I
cannot imagine whereon the historian fixed his eyes when he pronounced
these words. Nevertheless, the antithesis between Spain and England,
between nations and kings, leads us to suspect that M. Guizot alluded
to the shipwreck of political liberty; we are not aware that there is
any other better-founded or more legitimate interpretation. But then a
new difficulty presents itself: how can we believe that a man so versed
in the knowledge of history, composing a course of lectures which is
particularly devoted to the general history of European civilization,
should fall into a palpable error,--should commit an unpardonable
anachronism? Indeed, whatever may be the judgments of publicists on
the causes which have produced the loss of liberty in Spain, and
on the important events of the days of the Catholic sovereigns, of
Philippe le Beau, of Jeanne-la-Folle, and the regency of Cisneros, all
are unanimous in saying that the war of the Commons was the critical
moment, decisive of the liberty of Spain; all are agreed that the two
parties played their last stake at that time, and that the battle of
Villalar and the punishment of Padilla, by confirming and increasing
the royal power, destroyed the last hopes of the partisans of the
ancient liberties. Well, the battle of Villalar was fought in 1521; at
that time the Jesuits did not exist, and St. Ignatius, their founder,
was still a brilliant knight, battling like a hero under the walls of
Pampeluna. To this there is no reply; all philosophy and eloquence are
unable to efface these dates.
During the sixteenth century, the Cortes met more or less often, and
with more or less influence, above all in the kingdom of Aragon; but
it is as clear as daylight that the royal power had every thing under
its domination, that nothing could resist it, and the unfortunate
attempt of the Aragonese, at the time of the affair of Don Antonio
Perez, sufficiently shows that there existed then no remains of ancient
liberty which could oppose the will of kings. Some years after the
war of the Commons, Charles V. gave the _coup de grace_ to the Cortes
of Castile, by excluding from it the clergy and the nobles, to leave
only the _Estamento de Procuradores_, a feeble rampart against the
exigencies, against the all-powerful attempts of a monarch on whose
dominions the sun never set. This exclusion took place in 1538, at the
time when St. Ignatius was still occupied with the foundation of his
order; the Jesuits, therefore, could have had no influence therein.
Still more, the Jesuits, after their establishment in Spain, never
employed their influence against the liberty of the people. From
their pulpits they did not teach doctrines favorable to despotism; if
they reminded the people of their duties, they also reminded kings
of theirs; if they wished the rights of monarchs to be respected,
they would not allow those of the people to be trodden under foot.
To prove the truth of this, I appeal to the testimony of those who
have read the writings of the Jesuits of that time on questions of
public law. "The Jesuits," says M. Guizot, "were called to contend
against the general course of events, against the development of modern
civilization, against the liberty of the human mind." If the general
course of events is nothing but the course of Protestantism, if the
development of Protestantism is the development of modern civilization,
if the liberty of the human mind consists only in the fatal pride, in
the mad independence which the pretended reformers communicated to
it, then nothing is more true than the assertion of the publicist;
but if the preservation of Catholicity is a fact of any weight in the
history of Europe, if her influence during the last three centuries has
amounted to any thing, if the reigns of Charles V., Philip II., Louis
XIV., do not deserve to be effaced from modern history, and if regard
ought to be had to that immense counterpoise to which was owing the
equilibrium of the two religions; in fine, if the faith of Descartes,
Malebranche, Bossuet, and Fénélon, can make a dignified appearance in
the picture of modern civilization, it is impossible to understand how
the Jesuits, when intrepidly defending Catholicity, could be struggling
against the general course of events, against the development of modern
civilization, and against the freedom of human thought.
After having made this first false step, M. Guizot continues to slip in
a deplorable manner. I particularly call the attention of my readers
to the following evident contradictions: "With the Jesuits, there is
no _éclat_, no grandeur. They have performed no brilliant exploits."
The publicist entirely forgets what he has just advanced, or rather
he directly retracts it, when he adds, a few lines further, "and yet,
nothing is more certain than that they have had grandeur; a grand idea
belongs to their names, to their influence, and to their history.
It is because they knew what they did, and what they wished; it is
because they had a clear and full knowledge of the principles on which
they acted, and of the end towards which they tended; that is to say,
because they have had grandeur of thought and of will." Is genius
in its vastest enterprises, in the realization of its most gigantic
projects, any thing more than a grand idea and a grand intention?
The mind conceives, the will executes; this fashions the model, that
makes the application; if there be grandeur in the model and in the
application, how can the whole work fail to be grand?
Pursuing the task of lowering the Jesuits, M. Guizot makes a parallel
between them and the Protestants; he confounds ideas in such a way, and
so far forgets the nature of things, that one would hardly believe it,
if the words themselves did not prove it beyond a doubt. Forgetting
that it is necessary for the terms of a comparison not to be of a
totally different kind, which renders all comparison impossible, M.
Guizot compares a religious institute with whole nations; he goes
so far as to reproach the Jesuits with not having raised the people
_en masse_, and with not having changed the form and condition of
states. Here is the passage: "They have acted in subterraneous, dark,
and inferior ways; in ways which were not at all apt to strike the
imagination, or to conciliate for them that public interest which
attaches itself to great things, whatever may be their principle and
end. The party against which they contended, on the contrary, not
only conquered, but conquered with _éclat_; it has done great things
and by great means; it has aroused nations; it has filled Europe with
great men; it has changed the form and the lot of nations in the face
of day. In a word, all has been against the Jesuits, both fortune and
appearances." Without intending to offend M. Guizot, let us avow,
that for the honor of his logic, one would desire to efface from his
writings such phrases as we have just read. What! ought the Jesuits
to have put the nations in motion, made them arise _en masse_, and
changed the form and condition of states? Would they not have been
extraordinary religious men, if they had been allowed to do such
things? It was said of the Jesuits that they had unbounded ambition,
and that they attempted to rule the world; and now they are compared
with their adversaries in order to throw it in their faces that the
latter have overturned the world; a distinguished merit, which must
have been a disgrace to the Jesuits themselves. Indeed, the Jesuits
have never attempted to imitate their adversaries on this point; with
respect to the spirit of confusion and perturbation, they joyfully
yield the palm to those to whom it rightly belongs.
As far as great men are concerned, if the question be with respect to
the greatness of the enterprises which are becoming in a minister of
the God of peace, then have the Jesuits had this kind of grandeur in
an eminent degree. Whether it be in the most arduous affairs, or in
the vastest projects in science and literature, whether it be in the
most distant missions, or in the most redoubtable perils, the Jesuits
have never remained behind; on the contrary, they have been seen to
display a spirit so bold and enterprising, that they have thereby
obtained the most distinguished renown. If the great men of whom M.
Guizot speaks are restless tribunes, who, putting themselves at the
head of an ungovernable people, violated the public peace, if they are
the Protestant warriors whose names have shone in the wars of Germany,
France, and England, the comparison is foolish, and has no meaning;
for priests and warriors, religious and tribunes, are so distinct, so
different in actions and character, that to compare them is impossible.
Justice required that in such a parallel, where the Jesuits are taken
as one of the terms of the comparison, Protestants should not be placed
on the other, unless by them the reformed ministers are meant. Even in
this later case the comparison would not have been absolutely exact,
since, in the midst of the great differences between the two religions,
the Jesuits are not found alone in defending Catholicity. The Church,
during the last three centuries, has had great prelates, holy priests,
eminent _savants_, and writers of the first order, who did not belong
to the company of Jesus; the Jesuits were reckoned among the principal
champions, but they were not the only ones. Had it been wished fairly
to compare Protestantism with Catholicity, it would have been requisite
to oppose Protestant to Catholic nations, to compare priests with
priests, _savants_ with savants, politicians with politicians, warriors
with warriors; to do otherwise is monstrously to confound names and
things, and to reckon too much on the limited understandings and
excessive simplicity of hearers and readers. It is certain that if
the method we have pointed out were adopted, Protestantism would not
appear so brilliant and superior as the publicist has exhibited it to
us. Catholics, as M. Guizot well knows, do not yield to Protestants in
letters, in war, or in political ability. History is there; let it be
consulted.
CHAPTER XLVII.
THE FUTURE OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS.--THEIR PRESENT NECESSITY.
When, after having fixed our eyes on the vast and interesting picture
which religious communities present to us, after having called to
mind their origin, their varied forms, their vicissitudes of poverty
and riches, of depression and prosperity, of coldness and of fervor,
of relaxation and strict reform, we see them still subsist and arise
anew on all sides, in spite of the efforts of their enemies, we
naturally ask what will be their future? their past is full of glory;
what influence have they not exerted in society, under a thousand
different aspects, and in the thousand phases of society itself? Yet
what spectacle do they show us in modern times? On one hand they have
been weakened, like an old wall which we see ruined by the effect
of time; on the other we have seen them suddenly disappear, like
weak trees overthrown by the whirlwind. Moreover, they seemed to be
condemned by the spirit of the age without appeal. Matter having become
supreme, extended its empire on all sides, scarcely allowing the
mind a moment for reflection and meditation; industry and commerce,
carrying their turmoil to the remotest parts of the earth, confirmed
the judgment of an irreligious philosophy against a class of men
devoted to prayer, silence, and solitude. Nevertheless, facts every day
belie their conjectures; the hearts of Christians still preserve the
most flattering hopes, and these hopes are strengthened and animated
more and more. The hand of God, who carries out His high designs and
laughs at the vain thoughts of man, shows it more and more wonderful.
Philosophy sees a wide field for meditation open before it; it
anticipates the probable future of religious communities; it may make
conjectures on the influence which is reserved for them in society for
the future.
We have already seen what is the real origin of religious institutions;
we have found that origin in the spirit of the Catholic religion, and
history has told us that they have arisen wherever she is established.
They have varied in form, in rule, in object, but the fact has been
always the same. Thence we have inferred that wherever the Catholic
faith shall be maintained, religious institutions will appear anew
under some form or other. This prognostic may be made with complete
certainty; we do not fear that time will belie it. We live in an
age steeped in voluptuous materialism; interests which are called
positive, or, in plainer terms, gold and pleasure, have acquired such
an ascendency that we might apparently fear to see some societies
lamentably retrograde towards the manners of paganism, towards that
period of disgrace when religion might be summed up in the deification
of matter. But in the midst of this afflicting picture, when the mind,
full of anguish, feels itself on the point of swooning away, the
observer sees that the soul of man is not yet dead, and that lofty
ideas, noble and dignified feelings, are not entirely banished from the
earth. The human mind feels itself too great to be limited to wretched
objects; it comprehends that it is given it to rise higher than an
air-balloon.
Observe what happens with respect to industrial progress. Those
steam-vessels which leave our ports with the rapidity of an arrow to
traverse the immensity of ocean, those burning vehicles which skim
along our plains, and penetrate into the heart of mountains, realizing
under our eyes what would have seemed a dream to our fathers; those
other machines which give movement to gigantic workshops, and as if by
magic set in motion innumerable instruments, and elaborate with the
most wonderful precision the most delicate productions: all this is
great and wonderful. But however great, however wonderful it may be, it
no longer astonishes; these wonders no longer captivate our attention
in a more lively manner than the generality of the objects which
surround us. Man feels that he is still greater than these machines
and masterpieces of art; his heart is an abyss which nothing can fill;
give him the whole world, and the void will be the same. The depth
is immeasurable; the soul, created in the image and likeness of God,
cannot be satisfied without the possession of Him.
The Catholic religion constantly revives these lofty thoughts, and
points out this immense void. In barbarous times she placed herself
among rude and ignorant nations to lead them to civilization; she now
remains among civilized nations to provide against the dissolution
which threatens them. She disregards the coldness and neglect with
which indifference and ingratitude reply to her; she cries out without
ceasing, addresses her warnings to the faithful with indefatigable
constancy, makes her voice resound in the ears of the incredulous,
and remains intact and immovable in the midst of the agitation and
instability of human things. Thus do those wonderful temples which
have been left to us by the remotest antiquity, remain entire amid the
action of time, of revolutions, and of convulsions; around them arise
and disappear the habitations of men, the palaces of the great and the
cottages of the poor, but the time-stained edifice stands like a solemn
and mysterious object in the midst of the smiling fields and showy
structures which surround it; its vast cupola annihilates all that is
near; its summit boldly rises towards the heavens.
The labors of religion do not remain without fruit; penetrating
minds acknowledge her truths; even those who refuse their submission
to the faith confess the beauty, utility, and necessity of this
divine religion; they regard it as an historical fact of the highest
importance, and agree that the good order and prosperity of families
and states depend upon it. But God, who watches over the safety of
the church, is not content with these avowals of philosophy; torrents
of all-powerful grace descend from on high, and the Divine Spirit
is diffused and renewed on the face of the earth. Even from the
whirlwind of the world, corrupt and indifferent as it is, privileged
men frequently come forth, whose foreheads have been touched with the
flame of inspiration, and whose hearts are on fire with heavenly love.
In retreat, in solitude, in meditation on the eternal truths, they
have acquired that disposition of mind which is necessary to perform
arduous tasks; in spite of raillery and ingratitude, they devote
themselves to console the unfortunate, to educate the young, and to
convert idolatrous nations. The Catholic religion will last till the
end of time, and so long will there be these privileged men separated
by God from the rest, to be called to extraordinary sanctity, or to
console their brethren in their misfortunes. Now these men will seek
each other, will unite to pray, will associate to aid each other in
their enterprise, will ask for the apostolical benediction of the Vicar
of Jesus Christ, and will found religious institutions. Whether they
be old orders only modified, or entirely new ones; whatever be their
forms, rules of life or dress, all this is of little importance; the
origin, the nature, and the object will be the same. It is vain for men
to oppose the miracles of grace.
Even the present condition of society will require the existence of
religious institutions. When the organization of modern nations shall
have been more profoundly examined, when time by its bitter lessons and
terrible experience shall have thrown more light on the real state of
things, it will be evident that errors greater than men have imagined,
have been committed in the social as well as in the political order.
Sad experience has corrected ideas to a great extent, but this does not
suffice.
It is evident that present societies want the necessary means to
supply the necessities which press upon them. Property is divided
and subdivided more and more; every day it becomes more feeble and
inconstant, industry multiplies productions in an alarming manner,
commerce extends itself indefinitely; that is to say, society,
approaching the term of pretended social perfection, is on the point
of attaining the wishes of that materialistic school, in whose eyes
men are only machines, and which has not imagined that society
can undertake any grander or more useful object than the immense
development of material interests. Misery has increased in proportion
to the augmentation of production; to the eyes of all provident
men it is as clear as the light of day that things are pursuing a
wrong course, and that if a remedy cannot be applied in time, the
_dénouement_ will be fatal; the vessel which we see advancing so
rapidly, with all her sails set and a favorable wind, is about to
strike upon a rock. The accumulation of riches, brought about by the
rapidity of the industrial and commercial movement, tends towards the
establishment of a system which would devote the sweat and the lives of
all to the profit of the few; but this tendency finds its counterpoise
in levelling ideas which agitate very many heads, and which, moulded
into different theories, more or less openly attack property, the
present organization of labor, and the distribution of productions.
Immense multitudes, overwhelmed with misery and in want of moral
instruction and education, are disposed to promote the realization
of projects not less criminal than foolish, whenever an unhappy
concurrence of circumstances shall render the attempt possible. It is
superfluous to support the melancholy assertions which we have just
made with facts; the experience of every day confirms them but too much.
Such being the case, may we be allowed to inquire of society, what
means there are, either of improving the state of the masses, or of
guiding and restraining them? It is clear that, for the first of these,
neither the inspirations of private interests, nor the instinct of
preservation which animates the favored classes, are sufficient. These
classes, properly speaking, as they exist, have not the character
which constitutes a class: they are only a collection of families just
emerged from poverty and obscurity, and who rapidly advance towards the
abyss whence they came, leaving their place to other families who will
run the same course. We find nothing fixed or stable about them. They
live from day to day, without thinking of the morrow: far different
from the old nobility, whose origin was lost in the obscurity of the
remotest antiquity, and whose strength and organization promised long
centuries of existence. These men could and did follow a system;
for what existed to-day was sure of existence to-morrow; now all
is changeable and inconstant. Individuals, like families, labor to
accumulate, to lay by riches, not in order to sustain for ages the
power and splendor of an illustrious house, but to enjoy to-day what
has been but just acquired. The presentiment of the short duration
which things must have, augments still more the giddiness and frenzy
of dissipation. The times are past when opulent families were desirous
of founding some enduring establishment to evince their generosity and
perpetuate the splendor of their names: hospitals, and other houses of
beneficence, do not come from the coffers of the bankers, as they did
from those of the old castles. We must acknowledge, however painful may
be the avowal, that the opulent classes of society do not fulfil the
duty which belongs to them: the poor should respect the property of the
rich; but the rich should, in their turn, respect the condition of the
poor: such is the will of God.
It follows from what I have stated, that the resource of beneficence
is wanting in the social organization; and observe well, that
administration does not constitute society. Administration supposes
society to be already existing and entirely formed; when we expect
the salvation of society from means purely administrative, we attempt
a thing which is out of the laws of nature. In vain shall we imagine
new expedients; in vain shall we form ingenious plans, and make new
experiments; society has need of a more powerful agent. It is essential
that the world should submit to the law of love or that of force,
to charity or servitude. All the nations who have not had charity,
have found no other means of solving the social problem, than that
of subjecting the greatest number to slavery. Reason teaches, and
history proves, that neither public order, property, nor even society
itself, can exist, unless one of these is chosen; modern society
will not be exempted from the general law; the symptoms which now
present themselves to our eyes clearly indicate the events whereof the
generations which are to succeed us will be the witnesses.
Happily, the fire of charity still burns on the earth; but the
indifference and prejudices of the wicked compel it to remain under
the embers. They are alarmed at the least spark of it which escapes,
as if it would enkindle a fatal conflagration. If the development
of institutions which are exclusively based upon the principle of
charity was favored, their salutary results and the superiority which
they possess over all that are founded on other principles would
soon be evident. It is impossible to supply the wants which I have
just pointed out, without organizing, on a vast scale, systems of
beneficence directed by charity: now this organization cannot be made
without religious institutions. It cannot be denied that Christians
who live in the world may form associations by which this object
will be accomplished more or less completely; but there are always a
multitude of cases which absolutely require the co-operation of men
exclusively devoted to them. It is necessary, moreover, to have a
nucleus to serve as the centre of all efforts, which presents, by its
own nature, a guarantee for preservation, and which provides against
the interruptions and oscillations which are inevitable in a large
concourse of agents, who are not bound together by any tie strong
enough to preserve them from differences, from separation, and even
from intestine contests.
This vast system which we speak of ought to extend not only to
beneficence, but also to the education and instruction of the many.
The establishment of schools will remain sterile, if not mischievous,
as long as they are not founded upon religion; and they will be thus
founded only in appearance and name, while the direction of these
schools does not belong to the ministers of religion. The secular
clergy may fulfil a portion of this charge, but they are not enough
for the task; on the one hand, their limited number, and on the other,
their other duties, prevent their acting on a scale sufficiently large
to supply all the necessities of the times: hence it follows, that
the propagation of religious institutions in our days has a social
importance, which cannot be mistaken without shutting one's eyes to the
evidence of facts.
If you reflect on the organization of European nations, you will
understand that their real advance has been prevented by some fatal
cause. Indeed, their situation is so singular, that it cannot be the
result of the principles whence these nations have drawn their origin,
and which have given them their increase. It is evident that the
countless multitude which one sees in society, making use of all its
faculties with complete liberty, could not, in the state in which it
now is, have been comprised in the primitive design--in the plan of
true civilization. When we create forces, we should know what we shall
do with them, by what means we shall move and direct them; without
this we only prepare violent shocks, endless agitation, disorder, and
destruction. The mechanician who cannot introduce a force into his
machine without breaking the harmony of the other movers, takes care
not to introduce it; and he sacrifices acceleration of movement and
the greatest strength of impulse to the fundamental necessity of the
preservation of the machine and the order and utility of its functions.
In the present state of society, we observe that power which is not in
harmony with the others; and the men who are charged with directing
the machine pay but little attention to gaining the required harmony.
Nothing acts upon the mass of the people but the ardent desire of
ameliorating their condition, of placing themselves in comfort, and of
obtaining the enjoyments of which the rich are in possession; nothing
to induce them to be resigned to the rigors of their lot; nothing to
console them in their misfortunes; nothing to render the present evils
more supportable by the hopes of a better future; nothing to inspire
them with respect for property, obedience to the laws, submission to
government; nothing to produce in their minds gratitude towards the
powerful classes; nothing to temper their hatreds, diminish their envy,
and mollify their anger; nothing to raise their ideas above earthly
things, their desires from sensual pleasures; nothing to form in their
hearts a solid morality capable of restraining them from vice and crime.
If we pay attention, we shall see that the men of this age have only
three means of restraining the masses, and they regard these as enough;
but reason and experience show that these expedients are not only not
efficacious, but even dangerous; they are these,--private interests
well understood, public force well employed, and enervation of body,
followed by feebleness of mind, which restrains the populace from
violent means.
"Let us make the poor man understand," says the philosopher, "that he
has an interest in respecting the property of the rich; that his powers
and his labor are also real property, which require to be respected
in their turn; let us maintain an imposing public force, always
ready to act on the menaced point, in order to stifle any attempts
at disorder at their birth; let us organize a police, extending over
society like an immense net, and allowing nothing to escape its sight;
let us satisfy the people with cheap enjoyments of all kinds; let us
furnish them with the means of imitating, in their grosser orgies, the
refined pleasures of our saloons and theatres, thereby their manners
will be softened--that is to say, they will be enervated; the people
will become impotent to make great revolutions, their arms being weak,
and their hearts cowardly." This is the system of those who attempt
to govern society and control disturbing passions without the aid of
religion.
Let us pause for a moment to examine these means. It is, no doubt, easy
to say, in fine language, that the poor man is interested in respecting
the property of the rich; and that from this consideration alone he
ought to submit to the established order of things; and this without
even saying a word of the principles of morality, and leaving out all
that is removed from mere material interests. It is easy to write
books to explain such doctrines; but the difficulty consists in making
them understood in the same way by the wretched father of a family,
who, confined all the day to hard labor, plunged into an unwholesome
atmosphere, or buried in the bowels of the earth to work in a
coal-mine, can scarcely earn the subsistence of himself and his family;
and who, returning in the evening to his squalid abode, instead of
repose and consolation, finds only the complaints of his wife and the
tears of his children, asking him for a mouthful of bread. In truth,
is it strange that such a doctrine should not be graciously received
by those wretched beings, whose minds cannot perfectly understand the
parity between the poor and the rich with respect to the interests of
all, and the respect due to property? We will say plainly, that if you
banish from the world the moral principles, and desire to found the
respect due to property exclusively on private interest, the words here
addressed to the poor man are only a solemn imposture: it is false that
his private interest is in accordance with the interests of the rich.
Let us suppose the most fearful revolution, let us imagine that the
established order is radically upset, that authority gives way, that
all institutions are swallowed up, that laws disappear, that properties
are divided, or remain abandoned to the first who shall seize them,
there is no doubt that the rich man loses; let us see what can happen
to the poor. Will he be robbed of his wretched possessions? no one will
dream of doing so; misery tempts not cupidity. You will tell me that he
will find no work, and that hunger will therefore be his lot. That is
true; but do you not see that in this case the poor man is a gambler
at a high stake, for whom the chance of loss, arising from the want
of work, is compensated by the probabilities of obtaining a share of
the rich booty? You add that he will not be allowed to keep that part;
but observe that, if his poverty becomes changed into riches, he will
soon imagine a new order of things, a new arrangement, a government
which will guarantee acquired rights, and prevent the destruction of
established things. Will he be without an example to follow in such
circumstances? Have recent examples been so easily forgotten? The poor
man sees clearly that a great number of his fellows will suffer evils
without end or compensation; he is not ignorant that he himself may,
perhaps, be of the number of the unfortunate; but, supposing that he
has no other guide than interest, supposing that new misfortunes, in
the last excess, can bring him only hunger and nakedness--things to
which he is so well accustomed, whether owing to the small return
for his labor, or to the frequent interruptions of work and the
vicissitudes of industry--you cannot charge with rashness the boldness
with which he comes forward, at the risk of increasing his privations
in some degree, and with the hope of being delivered from them, perhaps
for ever. This is a matter of calculation; and when private interest is
in question, we cannot grant to philosophy the right of regulating the
calculations of the poor.
The public power, and the vigilance of the police, are the two
resources in which the best hopes are founded; and certainly not
without reason; for, at the present time, if the world is not
revolutionized, it is owing to them. We no longer see, as in ancient
times, troops of slaves bound together with chains, but we see whole
armies, with arms in their hands, guarding capitals. If you observe
closely, after so many discussions, so many trials, so many reforms,
so many changes, questions of government and public order have, in the
end, resolved themselves into questions of force. The rich class is
armed against the poor; and above both, there are armies to maintain
tranquillity with cannon, if necessary. Assuredly, the picture which
is exhibited to us in this respect, among modern nations, is worthy
of our attention. Since the fall of Napoleon, the great powers have
enjoyed an Augustan peace; for it is not worth while to speak of the
small events which, from time to time, have disturbed this universal
peace; neither the occupation of Ancona, nor the siege of Antwerp, nor
the war in Poland, can be considered as European wars; as to Spain,
limited, as she is by nature, to a narrow theatre, she can neither
traverse the seas, nor pass the Pyrenean mountains. Well, in spite of
this, the statistics of Europe show us enormous armies; the budgets
which are necessary to support them exhaust and overwhelm the nations.
What is the use of this military preparation? Do you believe that such
gigantic forces are kept on foot only that governments may not be taken
unawares by a general war; that war, which always threatens and never
breaks out; that war, which is feared neither by the government nor by
the people? No! they have another object: these armies are intended to
compensate for the moral means, the want of which is deplorably felt
on all sides, and nowhere more keenly than where the words justice and
liberty have been proclaimed with the most ostentation.
The enervation of the numerous classes, by means of monotonous,
effortless labor, and a complete abandonment to pleasure, may be
considered by some as an element of order; as their power of striking
is thereby taken away, or at least diminished. We allow that the
workmen of our age are not capable of displaying the terrible energy
of ancient champions of the Commons; of those men who, throwing off
the yoke of the feudal lords, struggled hand to hand with formidable
warriors, whose names were immortalized on the plains of Palestine.
The new revolutionists want, also, that courage and that enthusiasm
which are communicated to the soul by great and generous ideas. The man
who fights only to procure enjoyments will never be capable of making
heroic sacrifices. Sacrifices demand self-denial; they are incompatible
with egotism: now the thirst for pleasure is egotism, carried to the
last degree of refinement. Nevertheless, it must be observed that a
mode of life purely material, and deprived of the stimulus of the moral
principles, ends by extinguishing the feelings, and plunges the soul
into a sort of stupidity, into a forgetfulness of self, which may, in
certain cases, supply the place of valor. The soldier who marches with
tranquillity to death, when leaving a brutal _orgy_, and the man who
commits suicide with imperturbable calmness, without anxiety for the
future, are precisely in the same position. The boldness of the one,
and the firmness of the other, show contempt of life. So, if we suppose
their passions to be excited by the trouble of the times, the numerous
class may display an energy of which they are supposed to be incapable;
the sight of their numbers may raise their courage; bold and cunning
leaders, putting themselves at their head, may succeed in rendering
them terrible.
However this may be, it is at least certain that society cannot
continue its career without the aid and influence of moral means;
these means cannot suffice, shut up within the narrow circle in which
they are confined; consequently, it is indispensable to encourage the
development of institutions adapted to exercise moral influence in a
practical and efficacious manner. Books are not enough; the extension
of instruction is but an inefficient means, which may even become
fatal, unless based upon solid religious ideas. The propagation of
a vague religious feeling, undefined, without rules, without dogmas
or worship, will only serve to propagate gross superstitions among
the masses, and to form a religion of poetry and romance among the
cultivated classes; they are vain remedies, which do not stop the
progress of the disease; but, by augmenting the delirium of the
patient, precipitate his death.
The education, the instruction, the improvement of the moral condition
of the people, these words, which are in the mouth of everybody, prove
how keenly and generally the wound in the social body is felt, and
how urgent is the necessity of the timely application of a remedy, in
order to prevent incalculable evils. This is the reason why projects
of beneficence ferment in so many minds; why it is attempted, under so
many different forms, to establish schools for children and adults, and
other similar institutions; but all will be useless, unless the work be
confided to Christian charity. Let us profit by the knowledge acquired
by experience in this matter; let us take advantage of administrative
improvements, the better to attain our end; let the establishments
be accommodated to present wants and exigences; let charity never
embarrass the action of power, and power, on its side, never oppose the
action of charity: all this will be well; but nothing of all this is
inconsistent with a system, in which the Catholic religion will recover
the influence which belongs to her; of her it may be said, with perfect
truth, _that she makes herself all to all, to gain the whole world_.
The little minds which do not carry their views beyond a limited
horizon; bad hearts, which nourish only hatred, and delight only in
exciting rancor and in calling forth the evil passions; the fanatics of
a mechanical civilization, who see no other agent than steam, no other
power than gold and silver, no other object than production, no other
end than pleasure; all these men, assuredly, will attach but little
importance to the observations which I have made; for them, the moral
development of individuals and society is of little importance; they do
not even perceive what passes under their eyes; for them, history is
mute, experience barren, and the future a mere nothing. Happily there
is a great number of men who believe that their minds are nobler than
metal, more powerful than steam, and too grand and too sublime to be
satisfied with momentary pleasure.
Man, in their eyes, is not a being who lives by chance, given up to the
current of time and the mercy of circumstances, who is not called upon
to think of the destinies which attend him, or to prepare for them,
by making a worthy use of the moral and intellectual qualifications
wherewith the Author of nature has favored him. If the physical world
is subject to the laws of the Creator, the moral world is not less
so; if matter can be used in a thousand ways for the profit of man,
the mind, created to the image and likeness of God, is also endowed
with valuable powers; a vast sphere opens before him; he feels himself
called to work for the good of humanity, without confining himself
to combinations and modifications of matter, like an instrument or a
slave of the material element, whereof the empire and control have been
granted to him by God. Let faith in another life, and charity, which
have come down from God, fertilize these noble feelings, and enlighten
and direct these sublime thoughts; you will then clearly see that
matter has no claim to be the ruler of the world; and that the King of
the creation has not yet abdicated his rights. But if you attempt to
build on any other foundation than that which has been established by
God, do not indulge flattering hopes, your edifice will be like the
house built upon sand; the rain came, the wind blew, and the edifice
was overturned with violence.[27]
CHAPTER XLVIII.
RELIGION AND LIBERTY.
In the thirteenth chapter of this work we said, "The heart is filled
with generous indignation when we hear the religion of Jesus Christ
reproached with a tendency towards oppression. It is true, that if we
confound the spirit of real liberty with that of demagogues, we shall
not find it in Catholicity. But if we abstain from a monstrous abuse of
the name, if we give to the word liberty its reasonable, just, useful,
and pleasant meaning, then the Catholic religion may fearlessly claim
the gratitude of the human race, for she has civilized the nations who
have professed her, and civilization is true liberty." From what we
have already shown, the reader may judge whether Catholicity has been
favorable, or otherwise, to European civilization, and, consequently,
whether she has done any injury to real liberty. On the various points
on which we have compared her with Protestantism, we have seen the
injurious tendencies of the one and the advantages of the other; the
judgment of clear and enlightened reason cannot be doubtful.
As the real liberty of nations does not consist in appearances, but
resides in their intimate organization, in the same way as the life
does in the heart, I might dispense with entering into a comparison
of the two religions with respect to civil liberty; but I do not wish
to be accused of having avoided a delicate question, from a fear that
Catholicity would not come out of it with honor, or to allow it to be
suspected that my faith has any difficulty in sustaining a parallel as
advantageously on this ground as on others.
In order to clear up this question completely, it is necessary to
examine thoroughly the vague accusations which have been made on this
matter against Catholicity, and the eulogiums lavished on the pretended
Reformation. It is necessary to show that only gratuitous calumny has
been able to reproach the Catholic religion with favoring servitude and
oppression; it is necessary to dissipate, by the light of philosophy
and history, that deceitful prejudice, by the aid of which freethinkers
and Protestants have labored to persuade the people that Catholicity
is favorable to servitude, that the Church is the bulwark of tyrants,
that the name of Pope is synonymous with that of friend and natural
protector of whoever desires to debase men and reduce them to servitude.
There are two ways in which this question may be decided; by doctrines
and by facts.
Those who have said that the human race had lost its rights, and that
they were revived by Rousseau, certainly have not given themselves much
trouble in examining what are the real rights of the human race, and
what are the apocryphal rights advanced by the philosopher of Geneva
in his _Contrat Social_. Indeed, it may be said with more truth, that
the human race had very valuable rights, acknowledged as such, and
which Rousseau lost sight of. He undertook to examine thoroughly the
origin of the civil power, and his wild notions, instead of explaining
the matter, have only served to confuse it. I believe that on this
important point men have never had ideas less clear and distinct
than now. Revolutions have upset every thing in theory and in fact;
governments have been sometimes revolutionary, sometimes reactionary;
and sometimes revolution, and sometimes reaction, has been predominant.
It is extremely difficult to obtain from modern books a clear,
accurate, and exact knowledge of the nature of the civil power, of its
origin, and of its relations with subjects; in some of these you will
find the doctrines of Rousseau, in others those of Bonald: Rousseau is
a miner who saps in order to overturn; Bonald is the hero who saves
in his arms the tutelary deities of the city delivered to the flames;
but in his fear of profanation, he carries them covered with a veil.
However, it would not be just to attribute to Rousseau the melancholy
honor of having begun the confusion of ideas on this point; at various
times there have been found misguided men, who have labored to disturb
society by anarchical doctrines; but the embodiment of these doctrines,
and the forming of them into seductive theories, dates chiefly from the
birth of Protestantism. Luther, in his book _De Libertate Christiana_,
sowed the seeds of endless troubles by the extravagant doctrine, that
a Christian is subject to no one. In vain did he have recourse to the
evasive declaration, that he did not speak of magistrates or civil
laws; the peasants of Germany drew their own consequences; they rose
up against their lords, and enkindled a dreadful war. The divine right
held by Catholics has been accused of favoring despotism; and it has
been considered as so much opposed to the rights of the people, that
the two expressions are often antithetically employed. Divine right,
well understood, is not opposed to the rights, but to the excesses of
the people; so far from giving unlimited extent to power, it confines
it within the limits of reason, justice, and public advantage. In his
lectures on the general history of civilization in Europe, M. Guizot,
speaking of this right as proclaimed by the Church, says: "The rights
of liberty and political guarantees are combined with difficulty with
the principle of religious royalty; but that principle in itself is
elevated, moral, and salutary." (Lecture ix.) When men like M. Guizot,
who have made these questions their special study, are so lamentably
deceived on this point, who can be astonished that the same thing
occurs to the generality of writers!
Before I go further, I will make one observation, which we ought always
to have present to our minds. On these questions we continually hear
mention made of the schools of Bossuet and of Bonald; private names are
put forward, sometimes in one way and sometimes in another. Much as I
respect the merits of these men, and of others not less illustrious
produced by the Catholic Church, yet I must observe that she is not
responsible for any doctrines but those which she herself teaches;
that she is not personified in any doctor in particular; and that
being herself appointed by God himself to be the oracle of infallible
truth in faith and morality, she does not permit the faithful to defer
blindly to the mere word of any private man, however great may be his
merit in science and in sanctity. If you wish to know what the Catholic
Church teaches, consult the decisions of her Councils and her Pontiffs;
consult also her doctors of distinguished and unsullied reputation; but
beware of confounding the opinions of an author, however respectable he
may be, with the doctrines of the Church and the voice of the Vicar of
Jesus Christ. By this warning I do not mean to prematurely condemn the
opinions of any one, but simply to put those on their guard who, little
versed in ecclesiastical studies, might, in certain cases, confound
revealed dogmas with what is mere human thought. Having premised this
much, let us enter freely into the question.
Wherein does this divine right, of which we hear so much, consist? In
order to explain this matter completely, we must state the objects over
which this right extends; for these objects being widely different,
there will also be a great difference in the application made to them
of the principle. A great number of questions present themselves in
this very important matter; but it appears to me that they may all be
reduced to these, which embrace the rest, viz. What is the origin of
the civil power? How far does it extend? Is it lawful to resist it in
any case?
The first question is, _What is the origin of the civil power? How
do we know that this power is from God?_ There is much confusion
prevailing on these points; and certainly it is to be lamented, that at
a time so disturbed as the present they should be misunderstood; for
whatever may be said to the contrary, doctrines are never wholly laid
aside, either in revolutions or in restorations; men's interests, no
doubt, have great weight therein, but they are not left alone in the
arena. The best way of forming clear ideas on these points is to have
recourse to ancient authors, especially those whose doctrines have
been respected for a long period of time, who continue to be respected
down to this day, and who are looked upon as safe guides in the right
interpretation of ecclesiastical doctrines. This way of studying the
question which now occupies us ought to be acceptable to those even
who entertain contempt for the writers of whom we speak; for we are
now engaged more in seeking in what the doctrine consists, than in
examining into its truth. Now for this purpose we cannot find witnesses
better informed, or interpreters more competent, than men who have
devoted their whole lives to the study of the doctrine.
This last reflection is in no way contradictory to what we have said
above, on the care which we ought to take not to confound the mere
opinions of men with the doctrines of the Church; it only tends to
remind us of the necessity which exists of perusing a certain class of
authors, who are certainly not worthy of the ungrateful neglect with
which they are treated; indeed, it is impossible that their important
labors, conscientiously pursued for so long a time, should produce no
fruit. In order to understand the better the opinion of these writers
on the matter which now occupies us, we ought to observe the difference
which they make in the application of the general principle of divine
right to the origin of the civil or to that of the ecclesiastical
power. From this comparison there arises a bright light, which
resolves and clears up all difficulties. Open the works of the most
distinguished theologians, consult their treatises on the origin of the
power of the Pope, and you will see that in establishing this power
on divine right, they mean that it emanates from God, not only in a
general sense, that is, inasmuch as all being comes from God; not only
in a social sense, that is, inasmuch as the Church being a society, God
has willed the existence of a power to govern it; but in a most special
manner that God has Himself instituted this power, that He has Himself
established its form, that He has Himself pointed out the person, and
that consequently the successor to the chair of St. Peter is of divine
right the supreme pastor of the universal Church, having over the whole
of this Church supreme honor and jurisdiction.
With respect to the civil power, these authors speak thus. In the first
place, all power comes from God; for power exists, and all existence
comes from God; power is sovereignty, and God is the lord, the supreme
master of all things; power is a right, and in God is found the source
of all right; power is a moral movement, and God is the universal cause
of all sorts of movements; power tends towards an exalted end, and God
is the end of all creatures; His Providence ordains and directs all
things with mercy and efficacy. Thus we see that St. Thomas, in his
work _De Regimine Principum_, affirms that all power comes from God as
supreme master, as may be shown in three ways: as it is a being, as it
is a mover, and as it is an end. (Lib. 3, cap. 1.)
As I am treating of this method of explaining the origin of power, I
must pause for a moment to refute Rousseau, who, in the allusion which
he made to this doctrine, showed that he did not understand it. He
says, "All power comes from God, I allow; but all diseases also come
from Him. Are we, therefore, to say that it is forbidden to call in a
physician?" (_Contrat Social_, liv. i. c. 3.) It is true that one of
the senses in which the divine origin of power is affirmed is, that all
finite beings emanate from an infinite being; but this sense is not
the only one. Indeed, theologians knew very well that this idea, by
itself, did not imply its legitimacy, and that it extended as well to
physical force; for as the author of the _Contrat Social_ adds: "the
pistol held by a robber in a wood is also a power." Rousseau, in this
passage, has sacrificed the sense to show his ingenuity; the love of
making a brilliant sally has seduced him into removing the question
from its proper ground. It was easy, indeed, to see that, with respect
to the civil power, men do not speak of a physical, but of a moral, a
legitimate power; in any other way it would be in vain to seek for its
origin: as well might they seek the source of riches, health, strength,
courage, subtilty, or the other qualities which contribute to form the
material force of all power. The question is with regard to the moral
being which is called power; and in the moral order, illegitimate
power is not power, it is not a being, it is nothing. Consequently,
there is no need of seeking its origin in God, or in any thing else.
Therefore, power emanates from God as the source of all right, justice,
and legitimacy; and in considering power, not as a mere physical, but
as a moral being, it is affirmed that it can come from God alone,
who is the plenitude of all being. Not only is this doctrine, taken
generally, above all difficulty, but it must be admitted by all who do
not profess themselves atheists; they alone can call it in question.
Let us now descend to particulars, and see whether Catholic doctors
teach any thing which is not perfectly reasonable even in the eyes of
philosophers.
Man, they say, was not created to live alone; his existence supposes a
family; his inclinations urge him to form an alliance, without which
the human race could not be perpetuated. Families are connected with
each other by intimate and indestructible ties; they have common wants;
none can insure happiness, or even preservation, without the aid of
others. Therefore they are bound to enter into society. Society cannot
exist without order, or order without justice; and both require a
guardian, an interpreter, an executor. This is the civil power. God,
who created man, and willed also his preservation, consequently willed
the existence of society, and the power which it requires. Now the
existence of the civil power is as conformable to the will of God as
the existence of the paternal; if families have need of the paternal,
society has no less need of the civil power. Our Lord has condescended
to secure us from mistakes on this important point by telling us in
the Scriptures, that all power emanates from Him, that we are obliged
to obey it, that whoever resists it resists the Divine command. I
seek in vain for an objection to this way of explaining the origin of
society, and of the power which governs it. This doctrine preserves
natural, human, and divine right; all these rights are connected, and
support each other. The sublimity of the theory rivals its simplicity;
revelation sanctions what was shown by the light of reason, and grace
fortifies nature. Such, then, is the famous divine right, presented
as a bugbear to the ignorant and unsuspecting, in order to make them
believe that the Catholic Church, when she teaches the obligation of
obeying the legitimate power, and founds this obligation on the law of
God, proposes a dogma injurious to true human liberty.
To hear some men ridicule the divine right of kings, one would say
that we Catholics believed that certain individuals and families have
received bulls of institution from Heaven, and that we are grossly
ignorant of the history of the changes of the civil power. If they had
examined the matter more deeply, they would have found that, far from
being liable to the reproach of such folly, we have only established
a principle the necessity of which was acknowledged by all the
legislators of antiquity, and that our belief is quite reconcilable
with true philosophical doctrines and the events recorded by history.
In support of what I have said, see with what admirable clearness St.
Chrysostom explains this point in his 23d homily on the Epistle to
the Romans: "There is no power that does not come from God." What do
you say? Is every prince, then, appointed by God? I do not say that;
for I do not speak of any prince in particular, but of the thing
itself, that is, of the power itself: I affirm that the existence of
principalities is the work of the divine wisdom, and that to it it is
owing that all things are not given up to blind chance. Therefore it is
that the Apostle does not say, "That there is no prince who does not
come from God;" but he says, speaking of the thing in itself, "There
is no power which does not come from God." "Non est potestas, nisi a
Deo. Quid dicis? Ergo omnis princeps a Deo constitutus? Istud non dico.
Non enim de quovis principe mihi sermo est, sed de re ipsa, id est de
ipsa potestate. Quod enim principatus sint, quodque non simpliciter
et temere cuncta ferantur, divinæ sapientiæ opus esse dico. Propterea
non dicit: non enim princeps est nisi a Deo. Sed de re ipsa disserit
dicens: non est potestas nisi a Deo." (_Hom. 23, in Epist. ad Rom._)
It appears, from the words of St. John Chrysostom, that the meaning of
divine right, according to Catholics, is, that there exists a power for
the government of society, and that it is not abandoned to the mercy
of passion and imagination. This doctrine, which insures public order,
by establishing the obligation of obedience on motives of conscience,
does not descend to the inferior questions, which do not affect the
fundamental principle.
It may perhaps be objected, that if we admit the interpretation of St.
John Chrysostom, it was not necessary for the sacred text to teach
that which reason so clearly dictated. To this our reply is twofold:
1st, that the sacred Scripture expressly prescribes to us several
obligations which nature imposes on us independently of all divine
right, as to honor parents, not to kill, not to rob, and other things
of the kind; 2d, that in the present case the Apostles had very good
reason to recommend particularly obedience to legitimate power, and
to sanction in a clear and conclusive manner this obligation, founded
on the natural law itself. Indeed, the same St. Chrysostom tells
us, "that at that time a very widely-spread opinion represented the
Apostles as seditious men and innovators, laboring by their speeches
and acts to bring about the downfall of laws." "Plurima tunc temporis
circumferebatur fama, traducens Apostolos veluti seditiosos rerumque
novatores; qui omnia ad evertendum leges communes et facerent et
dicerent." (_Hom. 23, in Epist. ad Tim._)
It was no doubt to this that St. Paul alluded when, admonishing the
faithful of the obligation of obeying authority, he told them that
"such was the will of God, that by acting thus they might put to
silence the imprudence of foolish men." (Epist. i. c. 2.) We also know
from St. Jerome, that in the beginning of the Church, some, hearing
the Gospel liberty preached, imagined that universal liberty also was
meant. The necessity of inculcating a duty, the fulfilment of which
is indispensable for the preservation of society, will be clearly
perceived if we consider with what ease an error so flattering to
proud and rebellious minds might take root. After fourteen centuries
had passed away, we see the error reproduced in the time of Wickliff
and John Huss. The Anabaptists made a dreadful application of it when
they inundated Germany with blood. At a later period, the fanatical
sectaries of England raised the greatest disorders and brought about
fearful catastrophes by a similar doctrine, condemning alike the civil
and ecclesiastical power.
The religion of Jesus Christ, the law of peace and love, when preaching
liberty, spoke of that liberty which draws us from the slavery of sin
and the power of the devil, renders us co-heirs of Jesus Christ, and
participators of grace and glory. But she was very far from propagating
doctrines which could favor disorder, or subvert law and authority. It
was, then, of the greatest importance to her to disprove the calumnies
by which her enemies attempted to injure her; it was necessary for
her to proclaim, by her words and acts, that the public interest had
nothing to fear from her doctrines. We also see that after the Apostles
had inculcated this sacred obligation on several occasions, the Fathers
of the earliest times insist again and frequently on the same point.
St. Polycarp, quoted by Eusebius, (lib. iv. _Hist._ cap. 15,) says,
when speaking to the proconsul: "It is ordained to render to the
magistrates and powers appointed by God the honor which we owe them."
St. Justin, in his _Apology for the Christians_, also recalls the
precept of Jesus Christ touching the payment of tributes: Tertullian,
in his _Apology_, chapter third, reproaches the Gentiles with the
persecution they directed against the Christians, even at the time when
the latter, with their hands raised to heaven, were praying for the
safety of the emperors. The zeal of the saints who were charged with
the instruction and direction of the faithful succeeded in inculcating
this precept so well, that the Christians were everywhere a model of
submission and obedience. Thus Pliny, writing to the Emperor Trajan,
avowed that, religion excepted, he could not accuse them of being at
all wanting in the fulfilment of the laws and imperial edicts.
Nature herself has pointed out the persons in whom resides the paternal
power; the wants of the family mark the limits of this power; the
feelings of the heart prescribe its object and regulate its conduct. In
society it is otherwise: the rights of the civil power are tossed about
by the storms of human events; here this right resides in one person,
there in several; to-day it belongs to one family, to-morrow to
another; one day it is exercised under one form, the next under another
very different. The infant who weeps at his mother's bosom reminds her
of the obligation of nourishing and watching over it; woman, weak and
unsupported, calls unmistakably on man to protect her and her child;
youth, without strength to sustain or knowledge to direct itself, shows
parents their obligation of care and guardianship. We see clearly the
will of God; the order of nature forcibly expresses it; the tenderest
feelings are its echo and interpreter; we do not require any thing
else to show us what is the will of God; we do not need any refinement
to convince us that the parental power is from above. The rights and
duties of parents and children are written in characters as distinct
as they are beautiful. But where shall we find, with respect to the
civil power, an expression as unequivocal? If power comes from God,
by what means does he communicate it? In what channel is it conveyed?
This leads us to other secondary questions, which all conduce to the
explanation and solution of the principal question.
Was there ever a man who by natural right found himself invested with
civil power? It is clear that in this case power would have no other
origin than paternal authority; that is to say, in that case, the civil
power ought to be considered as an amplification of that authority, as
a transformation of domestic into civil power. We immediately see the
difference between the domestic and the social order, their separate
objects, the diversity of rules by which they must be regulated, and
we see how different are the means which they both use for their
government. I do not deny that the type of society is found in the
family, and that society is in the most desirable condition when
it most resembles the family in command and in obedience; but mere
analogies do not suffice to establish rights, and it always remains
indubitable that those of the civil power must not be confounded with
those of the paternal.
On the other hand, the nature of things shows that Providence, in
ordaining the destinies of the world, did not establish the paternal
as the source of the civil. Indeed, we do not see how such a power
could have been transmitted, and the legitimacy of its claims have
been justified. We can easily understand the limited rule of an old
man, governing a society, composed of two or three generations only,
who were descended from him; but as soon as this society increased,
extended to several countries, and consequently was divided and
subdivided, the patriarchal power must have disappeared, its exercise
must have become impossible, and we can no longer understand how the
pretenders to the throne could come to an understanding with each other
and the rest of the people, to justify and legitimize their rule. The
theory which acknowledges the paternal as the origin of the civil
power may be as promising as you please; it may sustain itself on the
example of the patriarchal government, which we observe in the cradle
of society; but there are two things against it. First, it asserts, but
does not prove; second, it has no means of attaining the end for which
it was intended, viz. the consolidation of government, for it cannot
establish itself by proving its legitimacy. The greatest of kings and
the humblest of subjects equally know that they are the sons of Noe;
nothing more. I have not been able to find this theory either in St.
Thomas, or in any of the other principal theologians; and to go still
higher, I do not know that it can find any authority in the doctrines
of the Fathers, in the tradition of the Church, or in Scripture
itself. It is consequently a mere philosophical opinion, of which the
explanation and proof belong to those who advance it. Catholicity says
nothing either for or against it.
It is then demonstrated that the civil power does not reside in any
man of natural right, and on the other hand, we know that power comes
from God. Who receives this power from God, and how does he receive
it? It is necessary first to observe, that the Catholic Church, while
acknowledging the divine origin of the civil power, an origin which is
expressly stated in Scripture, does not define any thing either as to
the form of this power, or the means which God employs in communicating
it. So that after the Catholic doctrine is established, there still
remains to be examined and discussed, who _immediately_ receives the
power, and how it is transmitted? This is acknowledged by theologians
when they have treated of this matter; this should be enough to remove
the prejudices of those who consider the doctrine of the Church on
this point as conducive to popular degradation. The Church teaches the
obligation of obeying legitimate authority, and adds that the power
which it exercises emanates from God; this doctrine is as applicable to
republics as to absolute monarchies, and does not prejudge either the
forms of government or the particular claims of legitimacy. As to these
latter questions they cannot be answered in general terms; they depend
upon a variety of circumstances into which the general principles which
are the foundation of the good order and peace of society cannot enter.
I think it is so important to give clear ideas on this point, and to
state the doctrines of the most distinguished Catholic divines, that I
consider it necessary to devote an entire chapter to this subject.
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE ORIGIN OF SOCIETY, ACCORDING TO CATHOLIC DIVINES.
There is nothing more instructive or more interesting, than the
study of public law in those writers who, pretending not to pass for
statesmen, and entertaining no views of ambition, express themselves
without flattery and without bitterness; and explain these matters
with as much calmness and tranquillity as they would theories of rare
application and limited extent. At the present time it is almost
impossible to open a book without immediately perceiving to which of
the two contending parties the author belongs; it seldom happens that
his ideas are not affected by passion, or adapted to serve particular
designs; and it not unfrequently happens that, without conviction, he
speaks according to the dictates of his interest.
It is not so with the old writers, of whom we are speaking. Let
us render them at least this justice; that their opinions are
conscientious, their language loyal and sincere; and whatever may be
the judgment with respect to them, whether we consider them as real
sages, or as ignorant men and fanatics, we cannot call in question
their sincerity; that they are animated by a religious idea, that
they develop a philosophical system, that their pens are the faithful
interpreters of their thoughts.
Rousseau attempts to seek the origin of society, and of the civil
power; and begins the first chapter of his work with these words: "Man
is born free, and he is everywhere in fetters." Do you not immediately
perceive the tribune under the mantle of the philosopher? Do you not
observe that, instead of addressing himself to the reason, the writer
appeals to the passions; and wounds the most susceptible of them--viz.
pride. It is in vain for the philosopher to endeavor to make us
believe that he does not intend to reduce his doctrines to practice;
his language betrays his design. In another place, where he attempts
nothing less than to give advice to a great nation, he has hardly begun
when he holds over Europe the torch of an incendiary.
"When we read ancient history, we fancy ourselves transported to
another world, and among other beings. What have the French, the
English, the Russians, in common with the Greeks and Romans? Hardly any
thing but the form. The great souls of the latter appear to the others
as exaggerations of history. How can they, who feel themselves to be
so little, imagine that such great men ever existed? They did exist,
however; and they were human like ourselves. What hinders our being men
like them? Our prejudices, our low philosophy, and grovelling passions,
combined with the egotism of men's hearts, by absurd institutions,
directed by men of little minds." (_Considerations on the Government
of Poland_, _&c._, Chap. 2.) Do you not observe the poison conveyed
in these words of the publicist? And is it not palpable that he had
something more in view than enlightening the mind? See with what
address he attempts to produce a feeling of irritation, by harsh and
indecent reproaches.
Let us take the opposite extreme of the comparison, and see in how
different a tone St. Thomas of Aquin, in his work _De Regimine
Principum_, begins his explanation on the same subject, and gives
directions for good government.[a][A]
[A] This subject is so important, so delicate, that I shall not be
satisfied with giving a translation of the passages which I quote,
however careful I may be to render them exact and literal, at the risk
of irregularity of style and violation of the idiom of our language.
I wish, therefore, to set before the reader the original texts
themselves, desiring him to judge from them and not from my version.
[They will be found in the Appendix.]
"If man," he says, "was intended to live alone, like many animals, he
would not require any one to govern him; every man would be his own
king, under the supreme command of God; inasmuch as he would govern
himself by the light of reason given him by the Creator. But it is
in the nature of man to be a social and political animal, living
in community, differently from all other animals; a thing which is
clearly shown by the necessities of his nature. Nature has provided
for other animals food; skins for a covering, means of defence,--as
teeth, horns, claws,--or, at least, speed in flight; but she has not
endowed man with any of those qualities; and instead she has given him
reason, by which, with the assistance of his hands, he can procure what
he wants. But to procure this, one man alone is not enough; for he
is not in a condition to preserve his own life; it is, therefore, in
man's nature to live in society. Moreover, nature has granted to other
animals the power of discerning what is useful or injurious to them:
thus the sheep has a natural horror of his enemy the wolf. There are
also certain animals who know by nature the herbs which are medicinal
to them, and other things which are necessary for their preservation.
But man has not naturally the knowledge which is requisite for the
support of life, except in society; inasmuch as the aid of reason
is capable of leading from universal principles to the knowledge of
particular things, which are necessary for life. Thus, then, since
it is impossible for man alone to obtain all this knowledge, it is
necessary that he should live in society, one aiding another; each one
applying to his own task; for example, some in medicine; some in one
way, and some in another. This is shown with great clearness in that
faculty peculiar to man, language--which enables him to communicate
his thoughts to others. Indeed, brute animals mutually communicate
their feelings; as the dog communicates his anger by barking, and other
animals their passions by various ways. But man, with respect to his
fellows, is more communicative than any other animal; even than those
who are the most inclined to live in union, as cranes, ants, and bees.
In this sense, Solomon says, in Ecclesiastes: 'It is better, therefore,
that two should be together than one; for they have the advantage of
their society.' Thus, if it be natural for man to live in society, it
is necessary that some one should direct the multitude; for if many
were united, and each one did as he thought proper, they would fall
to pieces, unless somebody looked after the public good, as would be
the case with the human body, and that of any other animal, if there
did not exist a power to watch over the welfare of all the members.
Thus Solomon says: 'Thus, where there is no one to govern, the people
will be dispersed.' In man himself the soul directs the body; and in
the soul, the feelings of anger and concupiscence are governed by the
reason. Among the members of the body, there is one principal one,
which directs all; as the heart or the head. There ought, then, to be
in every multitude some governing power." (St. Thomas, _De Regimine
Principum_, lib. i. cap. 1.)
This passage, so remarkable for profound wisdom, clearness of ideas,
solidity of principles, vigor and exactness of deductions, contains,
in a few words, all that can be said with respect to the origin of
society, and of power; to the rights enjoyed by the latter, and the
obligations incumbent upon it: the matter being considered in general,
and by the light of reason alone. In the first place, it was required
to show, with clearness, the necessity of the existence of society;
and this the holy doctor does by this very simple reasoning--man is
of such a nature that he cannot live alone, and then he has need of
being united to his fellows. If a proof of this fundamental truth be
required, it is found in the fact that he is endowed with speech;
this is a sign that by nature he is destined to communicate with
other men, and consequently to live in society. After having proved
this invincible necessity, it remained to demonstrate a necessity
not less absolute--viz. the necessity of a power to govern society.
In order to make this demonstration, St. Thomas does not invent
extravagant systems, or unfounded theories; he does not appeal to
absurd suppositions; he is satisfied with a reason founded on the
nature of things, dictated by common sense, and supported by daily
experience--viz. that in all bodies of men, there is a director
requisite; since, without him, disorder, and even dispersion, are
inevitable; for in all societies there must be a chief.
It must be allowed that this clear and simple explanation enables us
to understand the theory of the origin of society much better than all
the subtilties of explicit and implicit pacts; it is enough for a thing
to be founded on nature itself, for it to be viewed as demonstrated as
a real necessity, in order that its existence may be easily conceived;
why then seek, by subtilties and suppositions, what is apparent at the
first view?
Let us not, however, suppose that St. Thomas does not acknowledge
divine right, or is ignorant that the obligation of obedience to power
may be founded on it: far from it; this truth he establishes in many
places in his works; but he does not forget the natural and the human
law, which, on this point, are combined and allied with the divine,
in such a way, that the latter is only a confirmation of, and gives
a sanction to, the others. We ought thus to interpret the passages
in which the holy doctor attributes the civil power to human law,
considering this law with that of grace. For example, when examining
whether infidels can have dominion or supremacy over the faithful, he
says:[b] "It is necessary here to consider that dominion or supremacy
is introduced by virtue of human law; the distinction between the
faithful and infidels, is by divine law. Divine law, which emanates
from grace, does not take away human law, which is founded on the law
of natural reason; therefore the distinction between the faithful and
infidels, considered in itself, does not take away the dominion or
supremacy of infidels over the faithful."
When inquiring, in another place, if the prince who has apostatized
from the faith by this fact loses dominion over his subjects, so that
they are no longer called upon to obey him, he expresses himself
thus:[c] "As has been said before, infidelity does not destroy dominion
itself; for dominion was introduced by the law of nations, which is
human right; while the distinction between the faithful and infidels
is by a divine, which does not take away the human right." Again;
when examining if man is obliged to obey another man, he says:[d]
"As natural actions proceed from natural powers, so human operations
proceed from the human will. In natural things, it was necessary that
inferior things should be brought into their respective operations by
the excellence of the natural virtue which God has given to superior
things. In the same way, also, it is necessary that in human things,
those which are superior should urge on the inferior, by the force of
authority ordained by God. To move, by means of reason and the will,
is to command; and as, by virtue of the natural order instituted by
God, inferior things in nature are necessarily subject to the motion
of superior things, so also, in human things, those which are inferior
ought, by natural and divine right, to obey those which are superior."
On the same question, St. Thomas examines whether obedience is a
special virtue, and he answers,[e] "That to obey a superior is a duty
conformable to the divine order communicated to things." In the 6th
article, he states the question whether Christians are obliged to obey
the secular powers, and says:[f] "The faith of Christ is the principle
and cause of justice, according to what is said in the Epistle to the
Romans, chap. iii. 'the justice of God by the faith of Jesus Christ.'
Thus the faith of Christ does not take away the law of justice, but
rather confirms it. This law wills that inferiors should obey their
superiors; for without that, human society could not be preserved;
and thus the faith of Christ does not exempt the faithful from the
obligation of obeying the secular powers." I have quoted at some
length these passages from St. Thomas, in order to show that he does
not understand the divine right in the sense in which the enemies of
Catholicity have made it a reproach to us; but that, properly speaking,
while he adheres to a dogma so expressly taught in the sacred text, he
considers the Divine law as a confirmation and sanction of the natural
and human law. We know that for six centuries Catholic doctors have
regarded the authority of St. Thomas as worthy of the highest respect
in all that concerns faith and morality.
We have just seen that this angel of the schools establishes, as
founded on the natural, human, and divine law, the duty of obeying
authority, affirming that the source of all power is found in God,
without entering into the question whether God communicates this power
_directly_ or _indirectly_ to those who exercise it, and leaving a vast
field where human opinions may debate without violating the purity of
faith. In the same way, the most eminent doctors who have succeeded him
in the Catholic pulpits have contented themselves with establishing and
enforcing the doctrine, without rashly making use of the authority of
the Church in its application. To prove this I will here insert some
passages from distinguished theologians. Cardinal Bellarmin expresses
himself in these words:[g] "It is certain that public authority comes
from God, from whom alone emanate all things good and lawful, as is
proved by St. Augustin throughout almost all the forty-five books of
the _City of God_. Indeed, the Wisdom of God, in the Book of Proverbs,
chap. viii., cries out, 'It is by Me that kings reign;' and further
on, 'It is by Me that princes rule.' The prophet Daniel, in the second
chapter, 'The God of heaven has given thee the kingdom and the empire;'
and the same prophet, in the fourth chapter, 'Thy dwelling shall be
with cattle and with wild beasts, and thou shalt eat grass as an ox,
and shalt be wet with the dew of heaven, and seven years shall pass
over thee, till thou know that the Most High ruleth over the kingdom
of men, and giveth it to whomsoever He will.'" After having proved,
by the authority of the Holy Scriptures, this dogma, via. that the
civil power comes from God, the illustrious writer explains the
sense in which it ought to be understood:[h] "But," he says, "it is
necessary to make some observations here. In the first place, political
power, considered in general, and without descending in particular to
monarchy, aristocracy, or democracy, emanates immediately from God
alone; for being necessarily annexed to the nature of man, it proceeds
from Him who has made that nature. Besides, that power is by natural
law, since it does not depend upon men's consent, since they must have
a government whether they wish it or not, under pain of desiring the
destruction of the human race, which is against the inclination of
nature. It is thus that the law of nature is divine law, and government
is introduced by divine law; and it is particularly this which the
Apostle seems to have had in view when he says to the Romans, chap.
xiii., 'He who resists authority, resists the ordinance of God.'"
This doctrine destroys all the theory of Rousseau, who makes the
existence of society and the right of the civil power depend on human
conventions; it also overturns the absurd systems of some Protestants,
and other heretics, their predecessors, who, in the name of Christian
liberty, pretended to condemn all authority. No! the existence of
society does not depend on the consent of man; society is not his work;
it satisfies an imperious necessity, which, if it were not satisfied,
would entail the destruction of the human race. God, when he created
man, did not deliver him to the mercy of chance; He has given him the
right of fulfilling his necessities, and has imposed on him the care of
his own preservation as a duty; therefore the existence of the human
race includes also the existence of government, and the obligations of
obedience. There is no theory so clear, simple, and solid. Shall it be
called the enemy and oppressor of human freedom? Is it any disgrace
to man to acknowledge himself the creature of God? to confess that he
has received from Him what is necessary for his preservation? Is the
intervention of God any infringement of human liberty, and cannot man
be free without being an Atheist? It is absurd to say there is any
thing favorable to servitude in a doctrine which tells us "God wills
not that you should live like wild beasts: He commands you to be united
in society, and for this purpose He orders you to live in submission to
an authority legitimately established." If this be called servitude and
oppression, we desire this servitude, we willingly give up the right
which is pretended to be granted to us of wandering in the woods like
wild beasts: true liberty does not exist in man when he is stripped of
the finest attribute of his nature, that of acting in conformity with
reason.
Such is the explanation of divine right according to the illustrious
commentator whom we have just quoted; let us now see the applications
which he makes of it, and learn in what way, according to him, God
communicates the civil power to those who are charged with its
exercise. After the words quoted above, Bellarmin continues:[i] "In
the second place, observe, that this power resides _immediately_, as
in its subject, in all the multitude, for it is by divine right. The
divine right has not given this power to any man in particular, for it
has given it to the multitude; besides, the positive law being taken
away, there is no reason why one should rule rather than another, among
a great number of equal men; therefore power belongs to the whole
multitude. In fine, society should be a perfect state; it should have
the power of self-preservation, and, consequently, that of chastising
the disturbers of the peace."
This doctrine has nothing in common with the foolish assertions of
Rousseau and his followers; no one who has studied public law will
confound things so different. Indeed, what the Cardinal establishes
in the passage quoted, viz. that power resides immediately in the
multitude, is not in opposition to what he himself taught a little
before, when he said that it comes from God, and is not owing to human
conventions. His doctrine may be conveyed in this form. Suppose a
number of men without any positive law; there is then no reason why
any one of them should have a right to rule the rest. Nevertheless,
this law exists, nature itself indicates its necessity, God ordains
a government; therefore there exists among this number of men the
legitimate power of instituting one. To explain more clearly the ideas
of this illustrious theologian, let us suppose that a considerable
number of families, perfectly equal among themselves and absolutely
independent of each other, were thrown by a tempest on a desert island.
The vessel being destroyed, they have no hope either of returning
home or of pursuing their journey. All communication with the rest of
mankind is become impossible: we ask, whether these families could live
without government? No. Has any one among them a right of governing
the rest? Clearly not. Can any individual among them pretend to such
a right? Certainly not. Have they a right to appoint the government
of which they stand in need? Certainly they have. Therefore in this
multitude, represented by the fathers of families or in some other
way, resides the civil power, together with the right of transmitting
it to one or more persons, according as they shall judge proper. It is
difficult to make any valid objection to the doctrine placed in this
point of view. That this is the real meaning of his words is clearly
shown by the observations which follow:[k] "In the third place," he
says, "observe that the multitude transfers this power to one person or
more by natural right; for the republic not being able to exercise it
by itself, is obliged to communicate it to one or to a limited number;
and it is thus that the power of princes, considered in general, is
by natural and divine law; and the whole human race, if assembled
together, could not establish the contrary, viz. that princes or
governors did not exist."
But the fundamental principle being once established, Bellarmin allows
to society an ample right of appointing the form of government which
they think proper. This ought to refute the accusations made against
the Catholic doctrine, of favoring servitude; for if all forms of
government are reconcilable with this doctrine, it is evident that it
cannot justly be accused of being incompatible with liberty. Hear how
the same author continues on this point:[l] "Observe, in the fourth
place," he says, "that particular forms of government are by the law
of nations, and not by divine law, since it depends upon the consent
of the multitude to place over themselves a king, consuls, or other
magistrates, as is clear; and, for a legitimate reason, they can change
royalty into aristocracy, or into democracy, or _vice versâ_, as it was
done in Rome.
"Observe, in the fifth place, that it follows, from what we have said,
that this power in particular comes from God, but by means of the
counsel and election of man, like all other things which belong to the
law of nations; for the law of nations is, as it were, a conclusion
drawn from the natural law by human reasoning. Thence follows a twofold
difference between the political and the ecclesiastical power: first,
difference with regard to the subject, since political power is in
the multitude, and ecclesiastical in a man _immediately_, as in its
subject; second, difference with respect to the cause, since political
power, considered generally, is by divine law, and in particular by
the law of nations, while the ecclesiastical power is in every way by
divine law, and emanates immediately from God."
These last words show clearly how correct I was in saying that
theologians understand the divine law in a very different manner,
according as it is applied to the civil or to the ecclesiastical power.
It must not be supposed that the doctrine now stated is peculiar
to Cardinal Bellarmin; the generality of theologians follow him on
this point; but I have preferred quoting his authority, because he,
being so strongly attached to the See of Rome, if the latter were
imbued with the principles of despotism, as it has been charged with
being, no doubt, something of them would appear in the writings of
this theologian. It is easy to anticipate the objection that will be
made to this explanation; we shall be told that Bellarmin, having for
his object the exaltation of the authority of the Sovereign Pontiff,
with this view attempted to lower the power of kings, in order to
take away or diminish all opposition to the authority of the Popes. I
will not now enter into an examination of the opinions of Bellarmin
with respect to the two powers--this would be foreign to my design;
besides, such points of civil and ecclesiastical law excited at that
time great interest, on account of circumstances at that period, but
now very little, on account of the new course which events have taken,
and the great change which has been brought about in ideas. I shall,
nevertheless, reply to this supposed difficulty by two very simple
observations. The first is, that we have not to inquire the intentions
of Bellarmin in explaining his doctrine, but in what that doctrine
consists. Whatever his motive may have been, we see an author of vast
renown, whose opinion has great weight in Catholic schools, and who
wrote at Rome, where, so far from his writings being condemned, he was
surrounded with respect and honor: this theologian, I say, explaining
the doctrine of the Church on the Divine origin of the civil power,
does it in such terms that, while giving sacred guarantees for the good
order of society, he does not infringe on the liberty of the people;
this is the vindication of Rome against the attacks made upon her. The
second is, that Cardinal Bellarmin does not here profess an isolated
opinion--the generality of theologians are on his side; therefore, all
that can be said against him personally proves nothing against his
doctrines. Among the many authors that I could quote, I will select
some who will represent many different periods: and as the obligation
of being brief confines me within narrow limits, I beg the reader
himself to examine the works of Catholic theologians and moralists; he
will thus make sure of becoming acquainted with their thoughts on this
subject. Hear how Suarez explains the origin of power:[m] "Herein," he
says, "the common opinion seems to be, that God, inasmuch as He is the
author of nature, gives the power; so that men are, so to speak, the
matter and subject capable of this power; while God gives the form by
giving the power." (_De Leg._ lib. iii. c. 3.)
He goes on to develop his doctrine, relying on the reason usually made
use of in this matter; and when he comes to draw the conclusions, he
explains how society, which, according to him, receives the power
immediately from God, communicates it to certain persons. He adds:[n]
"In the second place, it follows from what has been said, that the
civil power, whenever it is found in a man or a prince, has emanated
according to usual and legitimate law, from the people and the
community, either directly or remotely, and that it cannot otherwise be
justly possessed." (_Ibid._ cap. 4.)
Perhaps some of my readers may not know that a Spanish Jesuit
maintained against the King of England in person, the doctrine that
princes receive power _mediately_ from God, and _immediately_ from the
people. This Jesuit is Suarez himself, and the book to which I allude
is called,[o] "_Defence of the Catholic and Apostolic Faith against the
errors of the Anglican sect; accompanied by a Reply to the Apology for
the Oath of Fidelity, and to the monitory Preface published by the most
serene James, King of England._ By P. D. François Suarez, Professor
at the University of Coimbra; addressed to the most serene Kings and
Princes of the Christian world."
In the third book, chapter second, where he discusses the question,
Whether the political sovereignty comes _immediately_ from God or
from divine institution, Suarez says: "Here the most serene King not
only gives a new and singular opinion, but also acrimoniously attacks
Cardinal Bellarmin, for having affirmed that Kings have not received
authority _immediately_ from God like the Popes. He himself affirms
that Kings hold their power not from the people, but _immediately_ from
God; and he attempts to support his opinion by arguments and examples
the value of which I shall examine in the next chapter.
"Although _this controversy does not immediately concern the dogmas
of faith_ (_for we have nothing in reference to it either in the
Scriptures or in the Fathers_), it may nevertheless be well to discuss
and explain it carefully; 1. because it might possibly lead to error
in other dogmas; 2. because the above opinion of the King, as he
maintains and explains it, is new, singular, and apparently invented
to exalt the temporal at the expense of the spiritual power; and 3.
because we consider the opinion of the illustrious Bellarmin _ancient_,
_received_, _true_, and _necessary_." But we must not attribute these
opinions to the circumstances of the times, nor suppose that they
disappeared from the schools of theologians as soon as they were
advanced. In support of them, a multitude of authors might very easily
be cited, who would show that Suarez was correct in saying that the
opinion of Bellarmin was received and ancient; they would, moreover,
show that this doctrine continued to be admitted as a matter of
course, without any doubt of its orthodoxy, or of its containing any
thing dangerous to the stability of monarchies. In proof of what is
here adduced, I will cite passages from distinguished authors, proving
that at Rome this mode of explaining the right divine has never been
called in question; and that in France and Spain, where absolute
monarchy had taken so deep root, this opinion was no longer regarded
as dangerous to the stability of thrones. A long period had already
elapsed--the critical position which might more or less influence
the direction of ideas had consequently disappeared, yet theologians
still maintained the same doctrines. Cardinal Gotti, who wrote in the
early part of the last century, gives, in his Treatise upon Laws,
the above opinion as previously admitted, without even attempting to
confirm it.[p] In the Moral Theology of Herman Busenbaum, enlarged by
St. Alphonsus Liguori, book 1st, second Treatise upon Laws, (chap.
i. dub. 2, § 104,) it is expressly said: "It is certain that the
power of making laws exists among men, but as far as civil laws are
concerned, this power belongs naturally to no individual. It belongs
to the community, who transfer it to one or to more, that by them the
community itself may be governed."
Should any one say that I quote the Jesuits only, or suspect that
these doctrines are mere casuistry, I will cite remarkable passages
from other theologians, who are neither casuists nor prepossessed
in favor of the Jesuits. Father Daniel Concina, who wrote at Rome
about the middle of the last century, supports the same doctrine as
generally admitted; in his _Théologie chrétienne dogmatico-morale_,
Roman edition, 1768, he expresses himself as follows:[q] "All writers
generally assert that the origin of supreme power is of God, as Solomon
declares in the Book of Proverbs, c. viii., saying, 'By Me kings reign,
and lawgivers decree just things:' as truly as subordinate princes are
dependent upon the supreme temporal majesty, so, in like manner, this
majesty itself must depend upon the supreme King and Lord of lords.
Theologians and jurists dispute whether this supreme power comes
_immediately_ from God, or merely in an _indirect manner_. Many affirm
that it emanates _immediately_ from God, because it cannot emanate
from men, whether we consider them collectively or individually; for
all fathers of families are equal, and each possesses, with regard
to his own family, a power merely economical; from which it follows,
that they cannot confer upon others that civil and political power
which they themselves do not possess. Moreover, if the community, in
its superiority, had delegated to one or to more the power here under
discussion, it could revoke it at pleasure, for the superior is always
at liberty to withdraw the facilities he has delegated to another, and
this would be very injurious to society.
"In support of the opposite opinion, many answer, and _certainly with
more probability and truth_, that, in reality, all power proceeds
from God, but that it is not delegated to any particular individual
_directly_, unless by consent of civil society. That this power is not
vested _directly_ in any individual, but in the entire collection of
men, is what St. Thomas expressly teaches (1, 2, qu. 90, art. 3, ad
2, et qu. 97, art. 3, ad 3), followed by Dominic Soto (lib. i. qu. 1,
art. 3); by Ledesma (2 part. qu. 18, art. 3); and by Covarruvias (in
Pract. cap. i.). The reason of this is evident; for as all men are born
free with regard to civil society, no one has any civil power over
another, since this power exists not in each, nor in any of them in a
fixed manner; it follows, therefore, that it is vested in the whole
collection of men. _God does not confer this power by any special act
distinct from creation, but it is a property of right reason, inasmuch
as right reason dictates that men, united in one moral whole, shall
prescribe, by express or tacit consent, in what manner society shall be
governed, preserved, and upheld._"
It is proper to remark, that Father Concina, speaking here of _tacit_
or _express consent_, has not in view the actual existence of society,
nor the authority by which it is governed, but merely the mode of
exercising this authority for the direction, preservation, and defence
of society. Hence, his opinion coincides with that of Bellarmin;
society and power are of right divine and natural, but the _mode_ of
organizing society, and of transmitting and exercising authority, is
human. After having shown in what sense we are to understand that
civil power comes from God, Concina resumes the question which he had
proposed, viz. in what manner authority exists in kings, princes,
and other supreme heads of government. He proceeds as follows:[r]
"It is evident, therefore, that the power existing in the prince,
the king, or in many persons whether nobles or plebeians, emanates
from the community itself, directly or indirectly; for, if it came
immediately from God, it would be manifested to us in a particular
manner, as in the instances of Saul and David, who were chosen by God.
We consider, therefore, erroneous, the doctrine that God confers this
power immediately and directly upon the king, the prince, or any other
head of supreme government whatever, to the exclusion of the tacit or
express consent of the public. This discussion, it is true, is one of
words rather than of things, for this power comes from God, the author
of nature, inasmuch as He has ordained and appointed that the public
itself shall confer upon one or more the power of supreme government,
for the preservation and defence of society. The nomination of the
person or persons appointed to command being once made, their power
is said to come from God, because society itself is bound by natural
and divine right to obey him who commands. In fact, it is the will
of God that society shall be governed, whether by one individual or
by several. In this manner the several opinions of theologians are
reconciled with each other, and the oracles of Scripture appear in
their true sense: 'He that resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance
of God.' 'There is no power but from God.' 'Be subject, therefore, to
every human creature for God's sake, whether to the king,' &c. 'Thou
wouldst not have any power against Me, unless it were given thee
from above.' These testimonies, and others of a like nature, ought
to convince us that all is ordained and directed by God, the supreme
Mediator. This, however, does not exclude the operations of human
institutions, as is very justly interpreted by St. Augustin and St.
John Chrysostom."
Father Billuart, who lived in the early part of last century, and,
consequently, at the same epoch when the highly monarchical traditions
of Louis XIV. were in all their vigor, expressed the same ideas on this
subject as the theologians above cited. In his work on Moral Theology,
which, for almost a century, has been widely circulated, he thus
expresses himself:[s] "I maintain, in the first place, that legislative
power belongs to the community, or to its representative." After
quoting St. Thomas and St. Isidore, he continues: "Reason proves, that
to make laws belongs of right to him who is appointed to watch over
the public good; for the maintenance of the public good, as has been
already said, is the end and aim of the laws. It is the duty of the
community, or of its ruler, to watch over the public good; for as the
welfare of an individual is a fit object for individual agency, so is
the public good for the agency of the community, or of him to whom its
functions have been delegated; the power of legislation, therefore, is
vested in the community, or in its representative. I will confirm what
is here advanced. The law has the power of commanding and of coercing
in such a manner that no individual has any authority to command or
restrain the multitude. This authority belongs exclusively to the
community, or to its representative; to these, therefore, legislative
power belongs." Having made these reflections, Billuart starts another
difficulty with regard to the extreme extension which he appears to
have given to the rights of the multitude. On this occasion he develops
his system still further.[t]
"It will be objected," says he, "that the right of commanding and
compelling is vested in the superior, and cannot belong to the
community, since it is not superior to itself. To this I reply:
Society, in one sense, is not superior to itself, but in another it is.
The community may be considered collectively as one moral body, and
in this sense it is superior to itself as considered distributively
in each of its members. Again; it may be considered as acting in the
place of God, from whom emanates all legislative power, as it is said
in Proverbs: 'By Me kings reign and the lawgivers decree just things;'
or as capable of being governed conformably to the public good. In the
former case, it is superior and legislative; in the latter, inferior
and subject to the law."
As this explanation might appear somewhat obscure, Billuart proceeds to
investigate more profoundly the origin of society and of civil power.
He endeavors to show how the natural, the divine, and the human laws
agree on this point, defining what belongs to each. He then continues
as follows:[u] "To render this more clear, it must be observed, that
man, unlike other animals, is born destitute of many things necessary
both for body and soul, and that for these he is indebted to society
and the assistance of his fellow-mortals; consequently he is, by his
very nature, a social animal. This society, which nature and reason
prescribe to him as indispensable, cannot long exist without some power
to direct it, according to what is said in Proverbs: 'Where there is no
governor, the people will come to ruin.' Whence it follows, that God,
who has given this nature, has also given the power of governing and of
legislating. He, in fact, who gives the form, gives, at the same time,
all that such form necessarily requires. But as it is not possible for
this executive and legislative power to be exercised by the entire
multitude, since it would be difficult for all and each forming
this multitude to assemble on all occasions when the affairs of the
commonweal are to be discussed, or laws to be established, it is usual
for the multitude to transfer its right or governing power, either to
a number of people selected from all classes, and bearing the name
of a democracy; or to a select number of the nobles, which takes the
name of an aristocracy; or to one alone, for himself only, or for his
successors, by virtue of the right of hereditary succession, which is
styled a monarchy. From which it is evident that all power comes from
God, as the Apostle says, in his Epistle to the Romans, chap. xiii.
This power resides in the community, _directly and by natural right_,
but in kings and other rulers merely _indirectly and by human right_,
unless God confers it directly upon certain individuals, as He did upon
Moses over the Jews, and as Christ has conferred it upon the Supreme
Pontiff over the whole Church." What is still more remarkable, our
absolute monarchies were never alarmed at these theological doctrines,
not only previous to the French Revolution, but since that Revolution,
and up to the time commonly styled with us the _fatal decade_, (from
1823 to 1833, the latter part of the reign of Ferdinand VII.) It is
well known that during that period the _Compendium Salmaticense_
(Compendium of Salamanca) had a most favorable reception in this
country, and served as a text-book among the professors of ethics
in the colleges and universities. Ye who are continually declaiming
against this epoch, imagining, without doubt, that in those days no
other doctrines than those in favor of the most arrant despotism could
be circulated, listen to what is said in the above book, which was
then placed in the hands of every youth destined to the ecclesiastical
state. After having established the existence of a civil legislative
power, the author thus proceeds:[x] "You will ask me, in the second
place, whether the prince receives this civil legislative power
_immediately_ from God. I reply, It, is universally admitted that
princes receive this power from God; but, at the same time, it is
maintained with more truth, that they do not receive it _directly_,
but _through the medium_ of the people's consent; for all men are
naturally equal, and there is no natural distinction of superiority
or inferiority. Since nature has not given any individual power over
another, God has conferred this power upon the community; which, as
it may think it more proper to be ruled by one or by many appointed
persons, transfers it to one or to many, that by them it may be ruled;
according to St. Thomas (1, 2, qu. 90, art. 3, ad 2). From this
natural principle arises the variety in the forms of civil government;
for if a state transfers all its power to a single individual, this
government is termed monarchical; if it confers it upon the nobles of
the nation, it takes the name of an aristocracy; if the people or the
state retain this power in their own hands, the civil government is
styled a democracy. Princes, therefore, receive from God the power of
commanding; for supposing the election made by the whole state, God
confers upon the prince the power which was vested in the community.
Whence it follows, that the prince rules and governs in the name of
God, and whoever resists him resists the ordinance of God, according to
the words of the Apostle above cited."
CHAPTER L.
ON THE RIGHT DIVINE, ACCORDING TO THE CATHOLIC DOCTORS.
The doctrine of the right divine, considered in its relation to
society, presents to our notice two particular points which this
doctrine contains: 1. The origin of civil power; 2. The mode in which
God communicates this power.
The former point is a question of doctrine. No Catholic can entertain
any doubt upon it. The second is open to discussion; and various
opinions may be formed upon it, without interfering with faith. With
regard to the right divine, considered in itself, true philosophy
agrees with Catholicity. In fact, if civil power comes not from God,
to what source can we trace its origin? Upon what solid principle can
we support it? If the man who exercises it does not rest upon God the
legitimacy of his power, no title will avail to uphold his right. It
will be radically and irretrievably null. On the contrary, supposing
authority to come from God, our duty to submit to it becomes evident,
and our dignity is not in the least hurt by the submission; but, in the
other supposition, we see only force, craft, tyranny, but no reason
or justice; perhaps a necessity for submission, but no obligation. By
what title does any man pretend to command us? Because he is possessed
of superior intellect? Who had the right of adjudging to him the
palm? Besides, this superiority does not constitute a right; in some
instances its direction might be useful to us, but it will not be
obligatory. Is it because he is stronger than we? In that case the
elephant ought to be king of the entire world. Is it because he is more
wealthy than we? Reason and justice exist not in metal. The rich man
is born naked, and his riches will not descend with him into the tomb.
Upon earth they have enabled him to acquire power; but they do not
confer upon him any right to exercise it over others. Shall it consist
in certain faculties conferred on him by others? who has constituted
other men our proxies? where is their consent? who has collected their
votes? and how can either we or they flatter ourselves that we possess
faculties equal to the exercise of civil power? and if we do not
possess them, how can we delegate them?
We must here consider the doctrine which places the origin of civil
power in the will of men, supposing that this power is the result of a
pact, by which individuals have agreed to submit to the retrenchment
of a part of their natural liberty, in order to enjoy the benefits
of society. According to this system, the rights of the civil power,
as well as the duties of the subject, are alike founded on a pact,
differing from other contracts only in the nature and extent of its
object; so that, in this case, power would emanate from God merely in
a general sense, just as all rights and duties emanate from Him. Those
writers who thus explain the origin of power, do not always agree with
Rousseau. The _Contrat_ of the philosopher of Geneva has nothing to
do with the pact spoken of in other authors. This is not the place
to compare the doctrines of Rousseau with those of other writers;
suffice it to say, that although they rely upon the pact, they wish,
nevertheless, to establish the rights of civil power as they have been
hitherto understood by the common consent of mankind, whilst the author
of the _Contrat Social_ proposes in his book the following problem,
which he considers fundamental. I quote his own words: "_To find a
form of association which shall defend and protect with all the common
strength the person and property of each associate, and by which each
one, being united to all, shall nevertheless obey only himself, and
remain as free as before._"
Such is the fundamental problem, the solution of which is given in the
_Contrat Social_. This nonsense of having none but one's self to obey,
making a _contract, and remaining as free as before_, needs no comment,
after what the author himself says in the following line: "The clauses
of this contract are so fixed by the very nature of the act, that the
least modification would render them vain and of no effect." (Book i.
chap. 6.) Rousseau's ideas on this subject do not, therefore, agree
with those of many other writers, who also have spoken of pacts, in
their explanation of the origin of power; the latter sought a theory in
support of power, the former wished to destroy that which existed, and
to throw society into a state of excitement. Through a singular idea,
Rousseau, in his vault at the Pantheon, is represented to us with the
door half open, and a lighted torch in his hand--an emblem, perhaps,
more significant than has been imagined. The artist's intention was, to
express the idea of Rousseau's enlightening the world even after his
death; but it should be remembered, that the torch is also an emblem of
the incendiary. La Harpe said of him:
"Sa parole est un feu, mais un feu qui ravage."
To return to the question, I will observe, that the doctrine of a pact
is of no avail in accounting for the establishment of power; for it
cannot even render legitimate either its origin or its exercise. First,
an explicit pact has evidently never existed; and secondly, in the
formation of even the most limited society, such a pact never _could_
obtain the consent of every individual member. In any convention for
such an object, only the heads of families could take part; and hence,
women, children, and servants might protest against it. In assenting
to such a pact, what right would fathers have to represent the whole
of their families? The will of the latter, it will be said, was
virtually included in that of their chief; but this is the very point
that wants proof. Supposition here is easy enough; proof is not so
easy. When you seek the origin of power in principles of strict right,
and attempt to maintain that this is only one of those cases to which
ordinary conditions of contracts are applicable, you are met at once
by a very serious difficulty; for you are obliged to have recourse to
a fiction:--the words "_implicit consent_" are a mere fiction, and
nothing more. Is it not evident, that the consent of families must have
been implicit, even supposing that of their heads to be explicit? This
explicit consent would, in fact, be impossible in the formation of
any society, however limited in extent. And moreover, the consent of
succeeding generations will be equally implicit, since it is impossible
to be continually renewing the contract, for the purpose of consulting
the wishes of the parties interested in its effects. Reason and history
teach that society has never been thus organized; our own experience
tells us that it is not now upheld or governed by any such principles.
Of what use, then, is this inexplicable theory? When a theory has a
practical object, the best way of proving its fallacy is, to prove its
impracticability.
The faculties with which civil power is, and always has been,
considered to be invested, are of such a nature, that they cannot have
proceeded from a pact. The right of life and death can have come only
from God. Man is not in possession of this right. No pact merely human
could invest him with a power which he has not, either in relation to
himself or to others. I will endeavor to demonstrate this point with
all possible precision. If the right of taking away life emanates not
from God, but from a pact, it must have originated in the following
manner: every member of society must have said, expressly or tacitly,
"I consent to the establishment of laws to decree punishment of death
for certain crimes; and if I should at any time transgress them, I am
willing from that moment to forfeit my life." In this manner, every
individual will have given up his life, supposing that the conditions
specified are realized; but no individual having a right over his
own life, the resigning of it becomes radically null. The joint
consent of all the members of society does not obviate the radical
and essential nullity of each one's right to give up his life; the
sum of their resignations is therefore equally null, and consequently
incapable of producing any right whatever. It will be said, perhaps,
that man, properly speaking, has no right over his own life, when an
arbitrary right is implied, but that when he chooses to dispose of it
for his own advantage, the general principle should be restricted.
This reflection, at first sight plausible, would lead to the terrible
consequence of authorizing suicide. In reply, it will be said, that
suicide is no advantage to him who commits it; but if you once grant
to the individual the right of disposing of his life, provided he reap
an advantage from so doing, you cannot constitute yourselves judges to
decide whether or not this advantage exists in any particular case.
According to you, he had a right to sacrifice his life when, for
example, to satisfy his wants or his taste, he had stolen the property
of another. That is to say, that he had a right of choice between the
advantages of life and those of satisfying a desire: what will you
answer, if he tell you that he prefers death to misery, to ennui, to
grief, or to such and such misfortunes which torment him?
The right of life and death cannot consequently emanate from a pact.
Man's life is not his own; he has only the use of it so long as it
pleases the Creator to grant it him. He has not, therefore, the right
of disposing of it, and all conventions he may make for that purpose
are null. In some instances, it is lawful, glorious, it may be even
obligatory, to deliver one's self up to certain death; but let us
not confound ideas: man does not in that case sacrifice his life as
being the master of it, he is a voluntary victim to the salvation
of his country, or to the good of mankind. The warrior who scales a
wall, the charitable man who confronts the most dangerous contagion in
visiting the sick, the missionary who resorts to unknown countries,
who resigns himself to live in unhealthy climates, and who penetrates
into inaccessible forests, seeking ferocious hordes, do not dispose
of their lives as being their own; they sacrifice them to a purpose
great, sublime, just, and pleasing to God; for God loves virtue,
especially heroic virtue; and it is a heroic virtue to die for one's
country, to die in visiting the sick, or in carrying the light of truth
to those seated in darkness and in the shadow of death. This right
of life and death, with which civil power has ever been considered
invested, may by some be considered as founded upon the natural right
of self-defence vested in society. Every individual, they will say, has
the right of taking away the life of another in self-defence; therefore
society also has this right. In the chapter on _Intolerance_, I have
touched slightly upon this point, and made some reflections which
may be repeated here. I will endeavor, nevertheless, to extend them
and confirm them by arguments of another kind. In the first place, I
maintain that the right of self-defence may confer upon society that of
taking away life. If one individual attacked by another may lawfully
repel him--kill him even, if necessary to save his own life, it is
evident that an assemblage of men have the same right. This appears
so evident, that demonstration is superfluous. One society attacked
by another has incontestably the right of resisting and repelling the
attack--it is justified in making war. With more reason, therefore,
might it resist an individual, to make war on him, or kill him. This
is all perfectly true and obvious; and I grant that there thus exists,
from the very nature of things, a title upon which we may found the
right of inflicting capital punishment.
These ideas are plausible, and seem at first sight to nullify the
reasons on which we have supported the necessity of having recourse
to God for the origin of this formidable right. Nevertheless, when we
come to examine them thoroughly, they are far from satisfactory; and it
may be even said, that in the sense in which they are understood and
applied, they are subversive of the acknowledged principles of society.
In fact, if such a theory be admitted, if the right of inflicting
capital punishment be made to rest exclusively on this principle,
the ideas of penalty, chastisement, and of human justice disappear
at once. It has always been thought that the criminal dying upon a
gibbet suffers a penalty; and although this terrible act is certainly a
satisfaction to society, a means of preservation, yet the principal and
predominant idea, that which surpasses all others, which best justifies
and exculpates society, which gives to the judge his august character,
and stamps disgrace upon the criminal, is the idea of chastisement, of
penalty, and of justice. All this disappears when once we can assert
that society, in taking away life, only acts in self-defence. Such an
act is conformable to reason, it is just, but it no longer merits the
honorable title of an executive act of justice. A man is justified in
killing an assassin; but in so doing he does not administer justice, he
does not execute justice, nor inflict a penalty. These things are very
different, and of a distinct order; we cannot confound them without
shocking the good sense of mankind.
We will render this distinction more apparent by putting the two
theories into the mouth of the judge: the contrast is striking. In the
former case, the judge says to the criminal: "You are guilty; the law
decrees against you the penalty of death; I, the minister of justice,
apply it; the executioner is ordered to inflict it." In the second, he
says to him: "You have attacked society, which cannot exist if such
attacks are tolerated. It defends itself, and for this reason puts you
to death; I, its agent, declare, that the time for its defending itself
is come, and hence I give you up to the executioner." In the former
supposition, the judge is a minister of justice, and the culprit a
criminal who undergoes a just penalty; in the latter, the judge is an
instrument of force, the culprit a victim. But, it will be said, the
criminal is not on this account less criminal, and still merits the
penalty which he undergoes. This is true with respect to the _guilt_,
but not with respect to the _penalty_. The fault exists in the eyes of
God, and also in the eyes of man, inasmuch as he possesses a conscience
capable of judging of the morality of actions; but it does not exist
in the eyes of man, considered as a judge. According to you, the judge
does not _punish_ a crime; he restrains an act injurious to society:
but if you say that the judge _inflicts a penalty_, you change the
nature of the question, for he then does something more than protect
society. It follows from what we have just established, that the right
of inflicting capital punishment can only emanate from God, and,
consequently, if there existed no other reason for referring to God
the origin of power, this alone would suffice. War against an invading
nation may be explained by the right of self-defence; invasion also
comes under the same principle; for if it be just, it can be entered
upon only with a view to enforce some reparation or compensation
refused by the enemy. War for the sake of alliance enters into that
class of actions which are performed for the assistance of a friend; so
that this phenomenon of war, with all its glory, and all its ravages,
does not so forcibly oblige us to have recourse to a divine origin as
this simple right of condemning a man to the gibbet. The sanction of
lawful wars also undoubtedly belongs to God, for in Him exists the
sanction of all rights and of all duties; but there is not, in this
case at least, any need of particular authorization, as in the case of
inflicting capital punishment. It is sufficient to have the general
sanction which God, as the author of nature, has given to all natural
rights and duties.
How do we know that God has granted such an authorization to man?
There are three ways of answering this question. 1. The testimony
of the Scriptures is sufficient for all Christians. 2. The right of
life and death is a universal tradition of the human race, and does,
therefore, exist in reality; and as we have shown that it can have its
origin only in God, it is right to suppose that He has communicated
it to man in one way or another. 3. This right is essential to the
preservation of society; God must, therefore, have granted it; for
if He wills the preservation of a being, it is evident that He will
have bestowed upon it all things necessary for such preservation. To
recapitulate what we have hitherto advanced: the Church teaches that
civil power comes from God, and this doctrine, which agrees with the
formal texts of Scripture, agrees also with natural reason. The Church
contents herself with establishing this dogma, and deducing from it
the immediate consequence resulting from it, viz. that obedience to
the lawful authorities is of right divine. With regard to the mode in
which this right divine is communicated, the Church has not determined
any thing: the general opinion of theologians is, that society receives
it from God, and that, from society, it is transferred, by lawful
means, to the person or persons appointed to exercise it. In order that
civil power may exact obedience, and be considered invested with this
right divine, it must be legitimate; that is to say, the person or
persons in possession of it must have acquired it by lawful means, or
this power must have become legitimate in their possession, by means
acknowledged to be in accordance with right. With respect to political
forms, the Church does not determine any thing; but whatever be the
form of government, the civil power must be confined within legitimate
bounds, while the subject, on his side, is bound to obey. The fitness
and legitimacy of such or such persons, and of such and such forms,
are subjects not appertaining to right divine. They are particular
questions, depending upon a variety of circumstances, and to which no
general theory is applicable.
One example of private right will serve to illustrate what we have just
explained. Respect for property is of natural and divine right; but
the ownership of property, the respective rights of individuals to the
same thing, the restrictions to which property should be subject, are
questions appertaining to civil right, which have always been resolved,
and are still resolved, in various ways. The main object is to adhere
to the protective principle of property, the indispensable basis of
all social organization; but the application of this principle is, and
must be, subject to a variety of circumstances and events, a variety
arising from the course of human affairs. It is the same with power.
The Church, intrusted with the great deposit of the most important
truths, keeps in this deposit the truth which guaranties a divine
origin to civil power, and makes the existence of the law an affair of
right divine; but she does not interfere in particular cases, which are
always controlled more or less by the fluctuation and uncertainty with
which the world is agitated. When thus explained, the Catholic doctrine
is not in the least opposed to true liberty; it consolidates power, and
does not prejudice the questions that may arise between the governors
and the governed. No unlawful power can lay claim to the right divine;
for it must be legitimate to merit the application of this right. This
legitimacy is determined and declared by the laws of each country, from
which it follows that the law is the organ of the right divine. This
right, therefore, only consolidates what is just; and certainly that
which insures justice in the world cannot be said to lead to despotism,
for nothing can be more opposed to the liberty and happiness of the
people than the absence of justice and legitimacy.
Popular liberties are not endangered by the strong safeguards
surrounding the legitimacy of the governing power. On the contrary,
reason, history, and experience teach that all illegitimate powers
are tyrannical. Their illegitimacy necessarily carries weakness along
with it; and it is not the strong, but the weak powers that oppress
the people. Real tyranny consists in the person governing taking care
of his own instead of the public interest. Now this is precisely what
takes place when, feeling himself weak and tottering, he is forced
to guard and protect himself. His object is then, no longer society,
but himself. Instead of thinking how he may benefit those over whom
he rules, he only studies and calculates beforehand the utility he
may derive from his own measures. I have said in another place, and
I repeat, that, in looking over history, we find continually this
important truth written in letters of blood: _Wo to the people governed
by a power which is obliged to think of its own preservation!_ A
fundamental truth in political science, and which has, nevertheless,
been lamentably overlooked in modern times. Much labor has been and is
still spent to produce guarantees for liberty. To this end a multitude
of governments have been overturned, and attempts have been made to
weaken them all, without thinking that this was the most certain
means of introducing oppression. What signify the veils under which
despotism is concealed, and the forms by which it seeks to disguise its
existence? History, which has recorded the outrages committed in Europe
during the last century; true history, not that written by the authors
of those outrages, by their accomplices, or by interested parties, will
relate to posterity the injustices and crimes committed in the midst
of civil discord by governments foreseeing their end, and feeling in
themselves extreme weakness caused by their tyrannical conduct and the
illegality of their origin.
How is it, then, that such a violent warfare has been declared against
doctrines tending to consolidate civil authority by rendering it
legitimate, and to prove this legitimacy by declaring that power
descends from Heaven? How has it been overlooked that the legitimacy of
power is an essential element of its strength, and that this strength
is the safest guarantee of true liberty? Let it not be said that these
are paradoxes. What is the object of societies and governments? Is
it not the substitution of public for private force, of the rule of
right for the rule of the strong? But when once you begin to undermine
power, to make it an object of popular aversion or defiance; when once
you represent it to the people as their natural enemy, and vilify the
sacred titles on which obedience due to it is founded, you attack at
once the very object of the institution of society; and by weakening
the action of public force, you provoke a development of private
force, which is the very thing that governments were instituted to
prevent. The secret of that mildness for which European monarchies
were remarkable, consisted chiefly in their security and strength,
founded upon the loftiness and legality of the titles of their power;
whilst you will find in the perils with which the thrones of the
Roman emperors and Eastern monarchs were beset, one reason for their
monstrous despotism. I do not hesitate to assert, and in the course
of this work I shall prove more and more, that one cause of the evils
to which Europe has been exposed during the laborious solution of the
problem of the alliance between order and liberty, is the oblivion of
Catholic doctrines on this point. These doctrines have been condemned
without being heard or examined into, and the enemies of the Church
have copied each other without ever having recourse to the real
sources, where they might easily have found out the truth.
Protestantism, departing from the teaching of Catholicity, has been
thrown alternately upon two opposite rocks; wishing to establish order,
it has done so to the prejudice of true liberty; and in its desire
to maintain liberty, it has become an enemy to order. From the bosom
of false reform have arisen the insane doctrines, which, preaching up
Christian liberty, discharged the subject from his obedience to the
lawful authorities; from the bosom of the same reform has likewise
arisen the theory of Hobbes, which sets up despotism in the midst of
society as a monstrous idol, to which all should be sacrificed, without
regard for the eternal principles of morality, with no other rule than
the caprice of him who rules, with no other bounds to his power than
those marked out by the extent of his strength. Such is the necessary
result of banishing from the world the authority of God. Man, left to
himself, can only succeed in producing slavery or anarchy; the same
thing under two forms; _the reign of force_.
In explaining the origin of society and power, divers modern writers
have said a great deal about a certain state of nature anterior to
all societies, and have supposed that these societies were formed
by a gradual transition from a barbarous to a civilized state. This
erroneous doctrine lies deeper than some persons imagine. If we pay
particular attention to the subject, we shall find that the erroneous
ideas entertained on this subject may be traced to the forgetfulness
of Christian teaching. Hobbes derives every kind of right from a
pact. According to him, when men live in a state of nature, they
have a right to every thing; which means, in other terms, that there
is no difference between good and evil. From which it follows that
society was organized without any regard to morality, and ought to be
considered merely as a means to an end. Puffendorf and some others,
admitting the principle of _sociality_, that is, deriving from society
the rules of morality, arrive at last at the principle of Hobbes, and
trample under foot both the natural and eternal laws. Investigating the
causes of these grave errors, I find them in the deplorable contempt
which writers on philosophy and morality in modern times have so
eagerly evinced for the treasures of light afforded us by religion.
This light, religion affords us on all questions, fixing by its dogmas
the cardinal points of all true philosophy, and offering us in its
narrations the only thread that can guide us through the labyrinth of
the first ages. Read the Protestant writers, compare them with the
Catholic, and you will find a remarkable difference between them. The
latter reason, give their minds free scope, and allow them a wide
range; but they ever leave untouched certain fundamental principles,
and every theory which they cannot reconcile with these principles is
inexorably rejected by them as erroneous. The former roam without guide
or compass in the boundless space of human opinions, presenting to us
a lively image of that pagan philosophy which had not the light of
faith to guide its inquiries into the principles of things. Instead of
finding a God, the Creator and Director, occupied without ceasing, like
a tender father, with the happiness of beings whom He has drawn from
nothing, this philosophy never discovered any thing but chaos, either
in the physical or in the social world. This degraded and brutalized
state, disguised under the name of nature, is in reality nothing but
the chaos of society. This chaos will be found in a great number of
modern writers who are not Catholics; and by a surprising coincidence,
worthy of the most serious reflection, it will also be found in the
principal writers on pagan science.
From the moment that we lose sight of the great traditions of mankind,
traditions in which man is represented to us receiving from God himself
intelligence, speech, and rules for his conduct in this life; from the
moment that we forget the narration of Moses, that simple, sublime,
and only true explanation of the origin of man and of society; our
ideas become confused, the facts are jumbled, one absurdity creates
another, and, like the builders of the tower of Babel, we suffer the
just punishment of our pride. How wonderful! that antiquity, which,
deprived of the light of Christianity, and lost in the labyrinth of
human inventions, had almost forgotten the primitive tradition of the
origin of society, and had recourse to the absurd transition from
the barbarous to the civilized state, should nevertheless, whenever a
society was to be formed, have invoked this right divine, which certain
philosophers have treated with so much disdain. The most renowned
legislators sought to establish upon Divine authority, the laws they
were giving to the people, thus rendering a solemn homage to that truth
logically established by Catholics, viz. that all power, to be regarded
as legitimate and to exercise its due ascendency, must receive its
titles from God. If you desire that the legislator should not be placed
under the sad necessity of feigning revelations which he has never
received, or bringing forward the intervention of God at every moment
in an extraordinary manner in human affairs, establish the general
principle that all power proceeds from God, that the author of nature
is likewise the author of society, that the existence of society is a
precept imposed upon mankind for their own preservation. Let submission
and obedience be so regulated as not to wound man's pride; let those
who rule over him be invested with superior authority, to which he can
submit without a shadow of self-abasement. In short, establish the
Catholic doctrine. Whatever be the form of government, you will then
have found a solid basis on which to support the respect due to the
authorities; you will have placed the social edifice upon a foundation
far more secure than human conventions.
Examine the right divine such as I have represented it, supported by
the interpretations of illustrious doctors, and I am certain that
you cannot refuse to admit its perfect conformity to the lights of
true philosophy; but if you persist in giving to this right a strange
sense which it does not possess, pretending that it ought to have a
different explanation, I shall insist upon one thing which you cannot
refuse me: produce me a text of Scripture, a monument of the traditions
acknowledged as articles of faith in the Catholic Church, a decision of
the Councils or of the Pontiffs, showing your interpretation to be well
founded. Until you have done this, I have a right to tell you, that,
possessed with the desire of rendering Catholicity odious, you impute
to it doctrines which it does not profess, you attribute to it dogmas
which it does not acknowledge; that you are adversaries without candor
or honesty, and employ weapons disallowed by the laws of combat.[28]
CHAPTER LI.
TRANSMISSION OF POWER, ACCORDING TO THE CATHOLIC DOCTORS.
The difference of opinion concerning the mode in which God communicates
civil power, however grave in theory, does not appear to be of great
importance in practice. We have already observed, that, among those who
assert that this power comes from God, some maintain that it proceeds
from Him _directly_, others _indirectly_. In the opinion of the former,
when once the nomination of the persons appointed to exercise authority
is made, society not only lays down the necessary conditions for the
communication of power, but actually communicates it, having first
received it from God. The latter maintain that society merely makes
the appointment, and, by means of this act, God confers the power upon
the person appointed. I repeat, that, in practice, the result is the
same, and the difference therefore vanishes. Nay, even in _theory_, the
divergence may not be so great as it appears at first sight. I shall
endeavor to demonstrate this by submitting the two opinions to rigorous
investigation.
The explanation given of the origin of power by both parties may
be set forth in the following terms: In the opinion of some, God
says, "Society, for thy preservation and well-being, thou requirest
a government; choose, therefore, under what form this government
shall be exercised, and appoint the persons who are to take charge
of it; I, on my part, will confer upon them the faculties necessary
for the fulfilment of their mission." In the opinion of others, God
says, "Society, for thy preservation and well-being, thou requirest
a government: I confer upon thee the faculties necessary for the
fulfilment of this object; choose thyself the form under which this
government shall be exercised, and, appointing the persons who are
to take charge of it, transmit to them the faculties which I have
communicated to thee."
In order to be convinced of the identity of the results of these two
formulas, we must examine them in their relations: 1. to the sanctity
of their origin; 2. to the rights and duties of power; 3. to the rights
and duties of the subject. Whether God has communicated power to
society, to be transmitted by it to the persons appointed to exercise
it, or has merely conferred upon it the right of determining the form
and appointing such persons, that, by means of this determination
and appointment, the rights annexed to supreme power may be directly
communicated to the persons intrusted with the exercise of it, it
follows, in either case, that this supreme power, wherever it exists,
emanates from God; and is not less sacred because it passes through
an intermediate means appointed by Him. I will illustrate these ideas
by a very simple and obvious example. Suppose there exists in a state
some particular community, instituted by the sovereign, and having no
rights but those granted by him; no duties but those which he imposes
upon it; in fine, a community indebted to the sovereign for all that
it is and has. This community, however small it may be, will require
a government: this government may be formed in two ways; either the
sovereign who has given it its laws has conferred upon it the right
of governing itself, and of transmitting this right to the person
or persons whom it may think proper to elect; or he has left to the
community itself the determination of the form and the appointment of
the persons, adding that such determination and appointment being once
made, it shall be understood that, by this simple act, the sovereign
grants to the persons appointed the right of exercising their functions
within lawful bounds. It is evident that the parity is complete; and
now I ask, Is it not true that, in this case, as in the other, the
faculties of him who governs should be considered and respected as an
emanation from the sovereign? Is it not true that it would be difficult
to discover any difference between these two kinds of investiture? In
both suppositions, the community would have the right of determining
the form and appointing the person; in both cases, he who governs could
only obtain his powers by virtue of the previous determination and
appointment; in neither case would there need any new manifestation
on the part of the sovereign, that the person nominated might be
understood to be invested with faculties corresponding to the exercise
of his functions. In practice, therefore, there would be no difference;
further, I will assert that, in theory even, it would be difficult to
trace the point of separation between the two cases.
Certainly, if we view the matter with the eye of an acute
metaphysician, we may very easily discover this difference, by
considering the moral entity which we call _power_; not as it is in
itself, and in its effects, but as an abstract being, passing from one
hand to another, in the manner of corporeal objects. But, instead of
examining the question for the curiosity of knowing whether this moral
entity, before arriving at one person, has not first passed through
another, let us first seek to verify from whence it emanates, and what
are the faculties it confers, the rights it imposes: we shall then
find that, in saying, "I confer this faculty upon you, transmit it to
whomsoever you think proper, and in whatever way you think proper,"
the sovereign expresses no more than if he should say: "Such or such
a faculty shall be conferred by me upon the person you wish, and in
the manner you wish, by the simple fact of the election you have
made." It follows hence, that whether we adopt the opinion of direct
communication, or the contrary one, the supreme rights of hereditary
monarchies, of elective monarchies, and in general of all supreme
powers, whatever be their forms of government, will not on this account
be less sacred, less certainly sealed with divine authority. Difference
in the forms of government does not in the least diminish the
obligations of submitting to civil power, lawfully established; so that
the refusing of obedience to the president of a republic, in a country
in which republicanism is the legal form of government, is no less
a criminal resistance to the ordinance of God, than the refusing of
the same obedience to the most absolute monarch. Bossuet, so strongly
attached to monarchy, and writing in a country and at a period in which
the king might exclaim, "_I am the state_;" and in a work, in which he
proposed nothing less than to offer a complete treatise on Politics,
taken from the words of Holy Scripture; established, nevertheless,
in a manner the most explicit and conclusive, the truth which I have
just pointed out. "We ought to be subject," says he, "to the form of
government established in our country." And he afterwards quotes these
words of St. Paul in his Epistle to the Romans, chap. xiii.: "Let every
soul be subject to higher powers; for there is no power but from God;
and those that are, are ordained of God; therefore he that resisteth
the power, resisteth the ordinance of God." "There is no form of
government," continues Bossuet, "nor any human institution, without its
inconveniences; so that it is necessary to remain in the state to which
length of time has inured the people. For this reason, God _takes under
His protection all legitimate governments, in whatever form they may be
established_; whoever undertakes to overturn them, is not only an enemy
to the public, but also to God." (Liv. ii. prop. 12.)
It is of little consequence whether power be communicated directly
or indirectly; the respect and obedience due to it are not in the
least changed, and consequently the sacredness of the origin of power
remains the same, whichever opinion be adopted; neither do the rights
and duties of government, and those of the subject, remain less
sacred. These rights and duties suffer no change, whether there be
or not an intermediate means for the communication of power; their
nature and limits are founded upon the very object of the institution
of society; but this object is totally independent of the mode in
which God communicates power to man. Against what I have advanced
upon the small amount of difference existing between these various
opinions, the authority of the theologians, whose texts I have cited
in the preceding chapter, will be objected. "These theologians,"
it will be said, "certainly understood these affairs; and as they
placed so much importance upon the distinction here under discussion,
they undoubtedly saw in it some great truth proper to be taken into
account." This objection acquires the more force, when we consider
that the distinction made upon this point by these theologians does
not proceed from a spirit of subtilty, as it might be suspected in the
case of those scholastic theologians, whose writings are replete with
dialectic arguments, rather than with reasoning founded upon Scripture,
upon the apostolical traditions and other theological resources, from
which we ought principally to take our arguments in controversies of
this nature; but the theologians whom I have quoted are certainly not
of this class. We need only name Bellarmin, to recognise a grave and
extremely solid author, who opposed the Protestants with Scripture,
with traditions, with the authority of the holy Fathers, the decisions
of the universal Church and of the Sovereign Pontiffs: Bellarmin was
not one of those theologians who excited the lamentations of Melchior
Cano, and of whom he said, that in the hour of combat against heresy,
instead of wielding well-tempered weapons, they wielded only long
reeds: _arundines longas_. Such was the importance given to this
distinction, that James, King of England, complained loudly that
Cardinal Bellarmin taught that the power of kings came from God only
indirectly; and the Catholic schools were so far from looking upon
this distinction as insignificant, that they defended it against the
attacks of King James; and that one of their most illustrious doctors,
Suarez, entered the lists to contend for the doctrines of Bellarmin.
It appears, then, at first sight, that I am wrong in what I have
said upon the slight importance of the distinction here mentioned. I
believe, nevertheless, that the difficulty may be easily removed, and
that it will suffice for this purpose to distinguish the different
aspects under which the question presents itself. First of all, I will
observe, that the Catholic theologians proceeded upon this point with
admirable prudence and foresight; and truly the question, such as it
was then proposed, comprehended more than a subtilty; I am inclined to
think that it included one of the most serious points of public right.
In order to examine deeply these doctrines of Catholic theologians,
and to lay hold of their true sense, we must fix our attention upon
the tendencies which the religious reform of the sixteenth century
communicated to European monarchy. Even before this reform, thrones had
acquired a great deal of force and solidity, through the decline in
the power of the feudal lords, and the development of the democratic
element. That element, which in due time was destined to acquire the
power of which it is now possessed, was not then in sufficiently
favorable circumstances to exert its action on the vast scale which it
embraces in our days. On this account, it was obliged to take refuge
under the shadow of the throne--an emblem of order and justice elevated
in the midst of society--a sort of universal regulator and leveller,
destined gradually to destroy the extreme inequalities so harassing
and obnoxious to the people. Thus, democracy itself, which, in after
ages, was to overturn so many thrones, served them, at that time,
as a firm support, sheltering them from the attacks of a turbulent
and formidable aristocracy, unwilling to be transformed into mere
courtiers. There was nothing in this state of things very mischievous,
so long as matters remained within the limits prescribed by reason and
justice; but, unfortunately, good principles were exaggerated, regal
authority was gradually converted into an absorbent force, which would
have concentrated in itself all other forces. European monarchy lost
thus its true character, which consists in monarchy having just limits,
even when these limits are not marked out and guarded by political
institutions.
Protestantism exalts to an incredible degree the pretensions of
kings, by attacking the spiritual power of the Pope, by painting in
the darkest colors the dangers of his temporal power, and especially
by establishing the fatal doctrine, that the supreme civil power has
ecclesiastical affairs totally under its direction; and by accusing of
abuse, of usurpation, of unbounded ambition, the independence which
the Church claims by virtue of the sacred canons, of the guarantee
afforded by the civil law, of the traditions of fifteen centuries, and
above all, of the institution of her Divine Founder. He had no need of
the permission, of any civil power to send His apostles to preach the
Gospel, and to baptize in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of
the Holy Ghost. A glance at the history of Europe at the epoch here
mentioned will convince us of the evil consequences of such a doctrine,
and show us how agreeable it must have been to the ears of power,
which it invested with unbounded faculties, even in matters purely
religious. This exaggeration of the rights of civil power, coinciding
with the efforts made on the other hand to repress the pontifical
authority, must have favored the doctrine which attempted to place the
power of kings upon a level, in every respect, with that of Popes;
and consequently, it was very natural that its authors should wish to
establish, that sovereigns received their power from God, in the same
manner as the Popes, without any difference whatever. The doctrine of
_direct_ communication, although very susceptible, as we have seen, of
a reasonable explanation, might involve a more extensive meaning, which
would have made the people oblivious of the special and characteristic
manner in which the supreme power of the Church was instituted by God
himself. What I have just advanced cannot be considered as merely
conjectural; the whole is supported by facts which cannot have been
forgotten. The reigns of Henry VIII. and of Elizabeth of England,
and the usurpations and violence in which Protestant powers indulged
against the Catholic Church, are a sufficient confirmation of these
sad truths. But, unfortunately, even in countries where Catholicity
remained triumphant, attempts were then, have since been, and still are
witnessed, that show clearly enough how strong was the impulse given
in this sense to the civil power; for even now it is but too prone to
transgress its legitimate bounds.
The circumstances under which the two illustrious theologians above
cited, Bellarmin and Suarez, wrote, are another reason in support of
what I have just adduced. I have quoted remarkable passages from a
work by Suarez, written in refutation of a publication of King James
of England. This King could not bear the idea of Cardinal Bellarmin's
having established that the power of kings does not emanate directly
from God, but is communicated through the medium of society, which
receives it in a direct manner. Possessed, as is well known, with the
mania for theological debates and decisions, King James did not confine
himself to simple theory; he reduced his theory to practice, and said
to his Parliament: "that God had appointed him absolute master; and
that all privileges which co-legislative bodies enjoyed were pure
concessions proceeding from the bounty of kings." His courtiers, in
their adulations, decreed him the title of the modern Solomon; he
might well, therefore, feel displeased with the Italian and Spanish
theologians for endeavoring to humble the pride of his presumptuous
wisdom, and restrain his despotism. If we reflect upon the words of
Bellarmin, and especially on those of Suarez, we shall find that the
aim of these eminent theologians was to point out the difference
between the civil and ecclesiastical powers, with respect to the mode
of their origin. They admit that both powers come from God; that it
is an indispensable duty to be subject to them; and that to resist
them is to resist the ordinance of God; but not finding, either in
the Scripture or in tradition, the least foundation for establishing
that civil power, like that of the Sovereign Pontiffs, has been
instituted in a special and extraordinary manner, they are anxious
that this difference should remain obvious, and seek to avoid the
introduction, in a point of such import, of a confusion of ideas, from
which dangerous errors might arise. "This opinion," says Suarez, "is
new, singular, and apparently invented to exalt the temporal over the
spiritual power." (See above.) Hence, in discussing the question of the
origin of civil power, they require you to bear in mind the influence
of society. "_By means of man's counsel and election_," says Bellarmin;
thus reminding the King, that how sacred soever his authority might
be, it had been very differently instituted from that of the Sovereign
Pontiff. The distinction between direct and indirect communication
served, in a particular manner, to prove the difference in question;
for this very distinction recalled to mind that civil power, although
established by God, owed its existence to no extraordinary measure, and
could not be considered as supernatural, but was to be looked upon as
dependent upon human and natural right, sanctioned, nevertheless, in an
express manner, by right divine.
These theologians would not, perhaps, have forcibly insisted upon this
distinction, had it not been for the efforts made by others to efface
it. It was a matter of consequence with them to humble the pride of
power, to prevent it from assuming, whether in respect to its origin
or its rights, titles not appertaining to it; to prevent its ascribing
to itself an unlawful supremacy, even in religious affairs, and thus
causing monarchy to degenerate into a sort of Oriental despotism, in
which the governing power is every thing, the people and their affairs
nothing. If we weigh their words attentively, we shall find that the
predominating idea with them was that which I have just stated. At
first sight, their language appears exceedingly democratical, from
their frequent use of the words _community_, _state_, _society_,
_people_; but on examining closely their system of doctrine, and
paying attention to the expressions they use, we perceive that they
had no subversive design, and that anarchical theories never once
entered their minds. They advocated on the one hand the rights of
authority, whilst they protected on the other those of the subject,
thus endeavoring to resolve the problem which formed the continual
occupation of all honest political writers; to limit power without
destroying it, or placing it under too great restraint; to protect
society against the disorder of despotism, without rendering it at the
same time refractory or turbulent. From the above reasoning we see
that the distinction between direct and indirect communication may be
of great or of little importance, according to the view we take of
it. It is of great importance when serving to remind the civil power
that the establishment of governments and the regulation of their
forms has in some way been dependent upon society itself, and that no
individual, no family, can presume upon having received from God the
government of the people without regard to the laws of the country, as
if those laws, in whatever form, were a free offering made by them to
the people. This same distinction serves, in short, to establish the
origin of civil power as an emanation from the Deity, the Author of
nature, but not as instituted in an extraordinary manner, as something
supernatural, as in the case of the supreme ecclesiastical power. From
this latter consideration two consequences follow, one of which is of
more importance than the other to the legitimate liberties of mankind
and the independence of the Church. To call in the intervention,
express or tacit, of society for the establishment of governments and
the regulation of their forms, is to prevent the concealment of their
origin under any veil of mystery; it is simply and plainly to define
their object, consequently to explain their duties, as well as to
point out their faculties. By these means a restraint is put upon the
disorders and abuses of authority, which it is thenceforth clearly seen
are not to find support in enigmatical theories.
The independence of the Church is thus established upon a solid basis.
Whenever the civil power attempts to offer it violence, the Church
may say: "My authority is established directly and immediately by God
in a special, extraordinary, and miraculous manner; yours likewise
emanates from God, but through the intervention of man, through the
intermediary of the laws, in the ordinary course pointed out by nature
and determined by human prudence; but neither man nor the civil
power has a right to destroy or change what God Himself, deviating
from the course of nature and making use of ineffable prodigies, has
thought proper to institute." So long as the ideas here set forth are
respected, so long as _direct_ communication is not received in too
extensive a sense, and care taken not to confound things whose limits
so gravely affect religion and society, the distinction here spoken of
is of little importance. We have seen, even, that the two opinions may
be reconciled with each other. At all events, this distinction will
have served to illustrate with what exalted views Catholic theologians
have discussed the grave questions of public right. Guided by sound
philosophy, and without ever losing sight of the beacon of revelation,
they have given equal satisfaction to the desires of both schools. They
have not fallen into the errors of either; democratical without being
anarchists, monarchical without being base adulators. In establishing
the rights of the people, they were not, like modern demagogues, under
the necessity of destroying religion, but made her the guardian of the
rights of the people, as well as of those of kings. Liberty was not
with them a synonyme for license and irreligion; in their opinion, men
might be free without being rebellious or impious; liberty consisted in
being subject to the law; and, as they could not conceive that law was
possible without religion and without God; in like manner also they
believed that liberty was not possible without God and religion. What
reason, revelation, and history taught them has become evident to us by
experience. Shall we be told of the dangers, grave or slight, in which
theologians could involve governments? But people now-a-days are not
led astray by affected and insidious declamations; and kings well know
whether the schools of theologians have exiled royalty, and led it to
the scaffold.[29]
CHAPTER LII.
FREEDOM OF SPEECH UNDER THE SPANISH MONARCHY.
Extreme doctrines neither insure the liberty of the people, nor the
force and stability of governments; both require truth and justice,
the only foundations upon which we can build with any hope of the
durability of the edifice. In general, maxims favorable to liberty are
never carried to a higher pitch than on the eve of the establishment
of despotism; and it is to be feared that the overthrow and ruin of
governments are very near when undue adulations are lavished upon their
power. When was the power of kings more extolled than about the middle
of last century? Who is not aware of the exaggerations given to the
prerogatives of royal power, when the Jesuits were to be expelled, and
the authority of the Sovereign Pontiff impugned? In Portugal, Spain,
Italy, Austria, and in France, the unanimous voice of the purest
and most fervent royalism was heard; and yet what became of this
great love, this lively zeal for monarchy, from the moment that the
revolutionary storm had placed it in danger? Observe what, generally
speaking, has been the conduct of men opposed to the ecclesiastical
authority; they have united themselves to demagogues for destroying, at
the same time, the authority of the Church and that of kings; they have
forgotten their base adulations, and abandoned themselves to insults
and violence. People and governments should never lose sight of this
rule of conduct, so useful to men of sense, to mistrust flatterers,
and to confide in those who warn and correct them. Let them beware
whenever they are caressed with an affected tenderness, and their cause
is maintained with especial warmth; it is a sure sign of an attempt
to make use of them as tools for the furtherance of interests very
different from their own. In France, at certain times, monarchical zeal
was carried to such an extent as to call forth, in the assembly of the
States-General, a motion for establishing, as a sacred principle, that
kings receive their supreme authority immediately from God: this was
not carried into effect, but the proposal shows how ardently the cause
of the throne was then maintained. Now, what did all this ardor mean?
Simply an antipathy against the Court of Rome, a dread of the extension
of papal power; it was an obstacle to be opposed to the phantom
of a _universal monarchy_. Louis XIV., so tenacious of the royal
prerogative, assuredly did not foresee the misfortunes of Louis XVI.;
and Charles III., in listening to the Count of Aranda and Campomanes,
little thought that the constituent Cortes of Cadiz was so near.
In the midst of their splendor, monarchs forgot one principle
predominating in the whole modern history of Europe, viz. that social
organization is an emanation of religion, and, consequently, that the
two powers to which the defence and preservation of society appertain
ought to co-exist in perfect harmony.
The power of the Church cannot be diminished without injury to the
civil power; he who sows schism will reap rebellion. During the last
three centuries the most liberal and popular doctrines upon the
origin of power have been circulated amongst us. What did it matter
to the Spanish monarchy, since those very persons who advocated
these doctrines were the first to condemn resistance to the lawful
authorities, to inculcate the obligation of obedience to them, and
to establish in all hearts, respect, love, and veneration for the
sovereign? The disturbances of our epoch, and the dangers constantly
besetting thrones, are not exactly attributable to the propagation of
doctrines more or less democratical, but to the absence of moral and
religious principles. What will be gained by asserting that power comes
from God, if people believe not in God? Point out the sacred character
of the duty of obedience, and what effect will it produce upon those
who admit not the existence of moral order, and to whom duty is merely
a chimerical idea? Suppose, on the contrary, that you have to deal with
men penetrated with moral and religious principles, who bow to the
will of God, and believe themselves bound to submit to it, so soon as
it is manifested to them. What does it matter then whether civil power
proceeds from God directly or indirectly? it is enough to convince
them, in one way or another, that, whatever be its origin, God approves
of it, and wills that it should be obeyed; they will immediately submit
with pleasure, for they will see in this submission the accomplishment
of a duty.
These considerations serve to explain the reason why certain doctrines
appear more dangerous now than formerly: incredulity and immorality
give them perverse interpretations, and apply them so as to create
nothing but excesses and disorders. From the manner in which the
despotism of Philip II. and his successors is now spoken of, we might
be led to suppose that in their time no other doctrines than those in
favor of the most rigid absolutism could be circulated; and yet we find
that there were circulated, without the least apprehension on the part
of power, works maintaining theories which, even in our days, would be
esteemed too bold. Is it not, therefore, remarkable, that the famous
book of Father Mariana, intituled _De Rege et Regis institutione_,
which was burned at Paris by the hand of the public executioner,
had been published in Spain eleven years before, without the least
obstacle to its publication, either on the part of the ecclesiastical
or civil authority? Mariana undertook his task at the instigation and
request of D. Garcia de Loaisa, tutor to Philip III., and subsequently
Bishop of Toledo; so that the work, strange to say, was intended for
the instruction of the heir-apparent. Never was more freedom used in
speaking to kings; never was tyranny condemned in a louder voice; never
were more popular doctrines proclaimed; and the work was, nevertheless,
published at Toledo, in 1599, in the printing-office of Pedro Rodrigo,
printer to the king, with the approbation of P. Fr. Pedro de Ona,
provincial of the Mercenaries of Madrid, with the permission of
Stephen Hojeda, visitor of the Society of Jesus in the province of
Toledo, under the generalship of Claude Aquaviva; and, what is still
more forcible, with the royal sanction, and a dedication to the king
himself. We should also observe, that Mariana was not satisfied with
this dedication placed at the commencement of the book, but he makes
the very title itself serve to show to whom it was addressed: _De
Rege et Regis institutione. Libri 3, ad Philippum 3, Hispaniæ Regem
Catholicum_; and, as if this were not sufficient, in dedicating his
Spanish version of the History of Spain to Philip III., he says to him:
"I last year dedicated to your majesty a work of my own composition,
upon the virtues which ought to exist in a good king, my desire being
that all princes should read it carefully and understand it." "El año
pasado presenté á V. M. un libro que compuse de las virtudes que debe
tener un buen Rey, que deseo lean y entiendan todos los principes con
cuidado."
We will pass over his doctrine upon tyrannicide, which was the
principal cause of its condemnation in France, where there existed,
without doubt, motives of alarm, since kings were perishing there by
the hand of the assassin. On examining his theory upon power, we find
it as popular and liberal as those of modern democrats could be.
Mariana ventures to express his opinions without evasion or disguise.
For example, drawing a parallel between the king and the tyrant,
he says: "The king exercises with great moderation the power which
he has received from his subjects.... Hence, he does not, like the
tyrant, oppress his subjects as slaves, but governs them as free men;
and having received his power from the people, he takes particular
care that during his life, the people shall voluntarily yield him
submission." "Rex quam a subditis accepit potestatem singulari modestia
exercet.... Sic fit, ut subditis non tanquam servis dominetur, quod
faciunt tyranni, sed tanquam liberis præsit, et qui a populo potestatem
accepit, id in primis curæ habet ut per totam vitam volentibus
imperet." (Lib. 1, cap. 4, p. 57.) This was said in Spain by a simple
religious, was sanctioned by his superiors, and attentively listened
to by kings. To what grave reflections does this simple fact lead us!
Where is that strict and indissoluble alliance which the enemies of the
Church have imagined to exist between her dogmas and those of slavery?
If such expressions as the above were tolerated in a country in which
Catholicity predominated so extensively, how can it be maintained that
such a religion tends to enslave the human race, and that its doctrines
are favorable to despotism? Nothing would be easier than to fill whole
volumes with remarkable passages of our writers, both lay and clerical,
showing the extreme liberty granted upon this point, as well by the
Church as by the civil government. What absolute monarch in Europe
would approve of one of his high functionaries expressing the origin of
power after the manner of our immortal Saavedra? "It is from the centre
of justice," says he, "that the circumference of the crown has been
drawn. The latter would not be necessary, if we could dispense with
the former.
Hac una reges olim sunt fine creati,
Dicere jus populis, injustaque tollere facta.
In the first age, there was no necessity for penalties, because the
law did not take cognisance of transgressions; rewards were equally
unnecessary, because integrity and honor were loved for their own
sakes. But vice, growing with the age of the world, intimidated
virtue; simple and confiding, the latter, till then, dwelt in the
country. Equality was despised, modesty and chastity lost, ambition
and force introduced, and after them domination. Prudence, forced by
necessity, and aroused by the light of nature, reduced men to a state
of civil society, to exercise therein those virtues to which reason
inclines them. By means of the articulate voice with which nature had
gifted them, they could explain to each other their mutual thoughts,
manifest to each other their sentiments, and explain their wants,
instruct, counsel, and protect each other. Society once formed, a
power was created _by common consent, in the whole of this community,
enlightened by the law of nature_, for preserving its different
parts, for maintaining them in justice and peace, by punishing vice
and rewarding virtue. _As this power could not remain spread through
the whole body of the people, on account of the confusion which would
have arisen from the resolutions and their execution_, and as it was
absolutely necessary that there should be some to command, and others
to obey, _one portion divested itself of this power, and vested it in
one member, or in a small, or in a great, number of members, that is
to say, in one of the three forms of every state government--monarchy,
aristocracy, or democracy_. Monarchy was the first; because men
selected for their government, out of their families, and afterwards
even from among the whole people, some one who excelled the rest in
goodness: his greatness increasing, they honored his hand with the
sceptre, and encircled his head with a crown as an emblem of majesty,
and as a badge of the supreme power which they had conferred upon him.
This power, however, consists chiefly in that justice which ought to
maintain the people in peace; _this justice failing, the order of
the state fails, and the office of king ceases_, as was the case in
Castile, when the government by judges was substituted for that by
kings, on account of the injustice of D. Ordona and of D. Fruela."
(_Character of a Christian Prince's Policy, set forth in a hundred
Devices_, by D. Diego de Saavedra Fajardo, Knight of the Order of St.
James, Member of his Majesty's Supreme Council for the Indies, _device_
22.)
The words _people_, _pact_, _consent_, have ended in becoming the
dread of men of sound ideas and upright intentions, on account of the
deplorable abuses which have been made of them in those immoral schools
which ought rather to be qualified with the epithet of irreligious than
with that of democratical. No, it was not the desire of ameliorating
the condition of the people which led them to overthrow the world, by
overturning thrones and shedding torrents of blood in civil discord;
the real cause was a blind rage for reducing to ashes the work of ages,
by especially attacking religion, the main support of every thing wise,
just, and salutary, that European civilization had acquired. And,
in fact, have we not seen impious schools, whilst boasting of their
liberty, bend under the hand of despotism, whenever they thought it
useful to their designs? Previous to the French Revolution, were they
not the basest adulators of kings, whose prerogatives they extended
immeasurably, with the intention of making regal power the means of
oppressing the Church? After the revolutionary epoch, did we not
see them assembled round Napoleon; and even yet, do they not almost
deify him? And why? Because Napoleon was revolution personified, the
representative and executor of the new ideas sought to be substituted
for the old ones. In the same manner Protestantism extols its Queen
Elizabeth; because it was she who placed the Establishment upon a
solid foundation. Revolutionary doctrines, besides the evils they
inflict upon society, produce indirectly another effect, which may, at
first sight, appear salutary, but which, in reality, is not so. They
occasion dangerous reactions in the order of events, and check the
progress of knowledge, by narrowing and debasing men's ideas, leading
them to condemn as erroneous and pernicious, or to view with mistrust,
principles which would previously have been looked upon as sound, or
that would, at all events, have been regarded as mere harmless errors.
The reason of all this is, simply, that liberty has no worse enemy than
licentiousness.
In support of this last observation, it may be well to show, that
the most rigorous doctrines in political matters have originated in
countries in which anarchy had made the greatest ravages, and precisely
at the time when the evil, still present, or very recent, was most
keenly felt. The religious revolution of the sixteenth century, and
the political commotions consequent upon it, were principally felt in
the north of Europe; the south, and especially Italy and Spain, were
almost entirely preserved from them. Now, these last two countries are
precisely those in which the dignities and prerogatives of civil power
have been the least exaggerated, as well as those in which they were
not disparaged in theory, and were respected in practice. Of all modern
nations, England was the first in which a revolution, properly so
called, was realized; for I do not consider as such the insurrection of
the German peasantry, which, in spite of the terrible catastrophe which
it caused, never effected any change in the state of society; or that
of the United Provinces, which may be considered a war of independence.
Now, it was precisely in England that the most erroneous doctrines
in favor of the supreme authority of civil power appeared. Hobbes,
who, whilst he refused to allow the rights of the Creator, attributed
unbounded authority to the monarchs of the earth, lived at the most
agitated and turbulent epoch in the annals of Great Britain. He was
born in 1588, and died in 1679.
In Spain, where the impious and anarchical doctrines, which had
troubled Europe since the schism of Luther, did not penetrate until the
latter part of the eighteenth century, we have seen that the greatest
license of expression was permitted upon the most important points of
public right, and that doctrines were maintained which, in any other
country, would have been looked upon as dangerous. Error gave rise to
exaggeration; the rights of monarchs were never so much extolled as
under the reign of Charles III.; that is, at the time when the modern
epoch was inaugurated among us.
Religion, which predominated in all consciences, maintained them in
the obedience due to the sovereign, without there being any need of
giving this obedience any extraordinary titles, when its real ones
were sufficient, as they certainly were. For him who knows that God
has prescribed obedience to lawful authority, it matters little
whether this authority emanate from Heaven directly or indirectly, or
whether society has more or less taken part in the determination of
political forms, or in the election of the persons or families who are
to exercise the supreme command. Hence we find that in Spain, although
the words _people_, _consent_, _pacts_, were spoken of, monarchs were
held in the most profound veneration, so much so that modern history
does not mention a single attempt upon their persons. Popular tumults
were also of rare occurrence; and those which did happen are not
attributable to either of the two above-mentioned doctrines. How does
it happen that, at the end of the sixteenth century, the Council of
Castile was not alarmed at the bold principles of Mariana, in his book
_De Rege et Regis institutione_, whilst those of the Abbé Spedalieri,
at the end of the eighteenth century, were such a terror to it? The
reason of this lies not so much in the contents of the works, as in
the epoch of their publication. The former appeared at a time when
the Spanish nation, confirmed in religious and moral principles,
might be compared to those robust constitutions capable of bearing
food difficult of digestion. The latter was introduced among us when
the doctrines and deeds of the French Revolution were shaking all the
thrones of Europe, and when the propagandism of Paris was beginning to
pervert us by its emissaries and books. In a nation in which reason
and virtue prevail, in which evil passions are never excited, in which
the well-being and prosperity of the country are the only aim of every
citizen, the most popular and liberal forms of government may exist
without danger; for in such a nation numerous assemblies produce no
disorder, merit is not obscured by intrigue, nor are worthless persons
raised to the government, and the names of public liberty and felicity
do not serve as means to raise the fortunes or satisfy the ambition of
individuals. So also in a country in which religion and morality rule
in every breast, in which duty is not looked upon as an empty word, in
which it is considered really criminal to disturb the tranquillity of
the state, to revolt against the lawful authorities: in such a country,
I say, it is less dangerous to discuss, with more or less freedom,
questions arising from theories on the formation of society and the
origin of the civil power, and to establish principles favorable to
popular rights. But when these conditions do not exist, it is of little
use to proclaim rigorous doctrines. To abstain from pronouncing the
name of people, as a sacrilegious word, is a useless precaution. How
can it be expected, that he who respects not Divine Majesty, should
respect human? The conservative schools of our age, proposing to
place a restraint upon the revolutionary torrent, and to tranquillize
agitated nations, have almost always been infected with a certain
failing, which consists in forgetting the truth which I have just
noticed: _royal majesty_, _authority of the government_, _supremacy
of the law_, _parliamentary sovereignty_, _respect for established
forms, and order_: such are the terms they are constantly making use
of. This is their palladium of society; and they condemn with all their
might _the state_, _insubordination_, _disobedience to the laws_,
_insurrection_, _riot_, _anarchy_; but they forget that these doctrines
will not suffice, unless there be some fixed point to which the first
link of the chain may be riveted. These schools, generally speaking,
originate in the bosom of revolution; they are directed by men who
have figured in revolutions, who have contributed to prepare them, who
have given them their force, and who, in order to attain the object of
their ardent desires, feared not to ruin the edifice at its foundation,
by diminishing the ascendency of religion and opening the way to moral
relaxation. Hence they become powerless when prudence, or their own
interests, bid them say, "_We have gone far enough_;" and, hurried on
like the rest by the furious whirlwind, they have neither the means of
stopping the movement nor of giving it a proper direction.
We are continually hearing the _Contrat Social_ of Rousseau condemned
on account of its anarchical doctrines, whilst at the same time
doctrines are circulated tending visibly to weaken religion. Can we
possibly believe that the _Contrat Social_ has alone caused all the
commotions of Europe? It has doubtless produced serious evils, but
still more serious ones have been caused by that irreligion which so
deeply undermines the foundations of society, which loosens family
bonds, and delivers up the individual to the caprice of his passions,
with no other restraint or guide than the promptings of his own low
egotism. Men of upright and reflecting minds begin to penetrate these
truths. We find, nevertheless, in the political sphere, this error,
which attributes to the action of civil government sufficient creative
power to form, organize, and preserve society, independently of all
moral and religious influences. It is of little consequence what be
maintained in theory, if this error be acted upon in practice; and what
avails the proclaiming of certain sound principles, if our conduct
is not guided by them? These philosophico-political schools, which
are desirous of ruling the destinies of the world, proceed in a way
diametrically opposite to that of Christianity. The latter, whose
principal object was heaven, did not, however, neglect the happiness of
man upon earth; it addressed itself directly to the understanding and
the heart, considering that the community is regulated by the conduct
of individuals, and that, in order to have a well-regulated society,
it was necessary to have good citizens. To proclaim certain political
principles, to institute particular forms--such is the panacea of some
schools, who deem it possible to govern society without exercising
a due influence over the intelligence and heart of man; reason and
experience agree in teaching us what we may expect from such a system.
Profoundly to impress the minds of men with religion and
morality,--this is the first step towards the prevention of revolutions
and disorganization. When these sacred objects have acquired their
full influence over the hearts of men, there is no longer any thing to
be apprehended from a greater or less latitude in political opinions.
What confidence can a government repose in a man professing highly
monarchical opinions, if he join impiety to them? Will he who refuses
to give to God his rights, respect those of temporal kings? "The first
thing," says Seneca, "is the worship of the gods, and faith in their
existence; we are next to acknowledge their majesty, and bounty,
without which there is no majesty." "Primum est Deorum cultus, Deos
credere; deinde reddere illis majestatem suam, reddere bonitatem, sine
qua nulla majestas est." (Seneca, _Epist_. 95.) Observe how Cicero, the
first orator and perhaps the greatest philosopher of Rome, expresses
himself: "It is necessary," says he, "that the citizens should be
first persuaded of the existence of gods, the directors and rulers of
all things, in whose hands are all events, who are ever conferring
on mankind immense benefits, who search the heart of man, who see
his actions, the spirit of piety which he carries into the practice
of religion, and who distinguish the life of the pious from that of
the ungodly man." "Sit igitur jam hoc a principio persuasum civibus,
dominos esse omnium rerum, ac moderatores deos; eaque quæ gerantur,
eorum geri ditione ac numine, eosdemque optime de genere hominum
mereri, et qualis quisque sit, quid agat, quid inde admittat, qua
mente, qua pietate colat religiones intueri: piorumque et impiorum
habere rationem." (Cic. _de Nat. Deor._ 2.)
These truths should be profoundly impressed upon the mind: the
evils of society do not principally emanate from political ideas
or systems; the root of the evil lies in religion; and if a check
is not put upon irreligion, it is vain to proclaim the most rigid
monarchical principles. Hobbes did certainly flatter kings a little
more than Bellarmin; and yet, when these two writers are compared, what
sensible monarch would not prefer as a subject the learned and pious
controvertist?[30]
CHAPTER LIII.
ON THE FACULTIES OF THE CIVIL POWER.
Having shown that the Catholic doctrine upon the origin of the civil
power does not include any thing but what is perfectly reasonable and
reconcilable with the true interests of the people, let us discuss
the second of the proposed questions. Let us inquire into the nature
of the faculties of this power, and see whether under this aspect the
Church teaches any thing favorable to despotism--to that oppression of
which she is so calumniously accused of being a supporter. We invite
our opponents to demonstrate the contrary, fully confident that they
will find it more difficult to succeed in so doing, than to accumulate
vague accusations, which serve only to lead too confiding minds astray.
To sustain these charges properly, recourse should be had to texts of
Scripture, to tradition, to the decisions of Councils, or to those
of Supreme Pontiffs, to passages of the Fathers; and it should be
shown that these immoderately extend the bounds of power, with the
design of placing undue restraint upon the liberty of the people, or
of destroying it. But it will be said, if the sources retained their
purity, the streams have been polluted by commentators; in other terms,
theologians of latter ages, becoming the adulators of civil power,
have powerfully labored to extend its faculties, and, consequently,
to establish despotism. As many persons too readily claim the right
of criticizing the doctors of what is termed the period of decline,
flippantly censuring those illustrious men, without having ever taken
the trouble to open their works, it is necessary for us to enter into
some details on this subject, and to dispel prejudices and errors which
are seriously injurious to religion, and not less so to science.
The declamations and invectives of Protestants have induced certain
minds to imagine that every idea of liberty would have disappeared
from the heart of Europe, had it not been for the timely intervention
of the pretended Reformation of the sixteenth century. According to
this idea, Catholic theologians are represented as a crowd of ignorant
monks, capable only of writing, in bad language and in still worse
style, a heap of nonsense, the ultimate and only aim of which was to
exalt the authority of Popes and kings, and to support intellectual and
political oppression, obscurantism, and tyranny. That a portion should
become the victim of illusion in matters the investigation of which
is difficult and arduous; that the reader should suffer himself to be
deceived by a writer on whose word he must either rely or remain in
complete ignorance,--as, for example, in the description of a country
or a phenomenon examined only by the narrator,--is nothing strange; but
that any one should adhere to errors which a few moments spent in the
most obscure library would eradicate, that the authors of the brilliant
volumes of Paris should have the privilege of disfiguring with impunity
the opinions of a writer lying covered with dust and forgotten in the
same library, and perhaps on the same shelf upon which the former
glitter; that the reader should peruse with avidity the glossy pages of
the newly-published work, filling his mind with the writer's notions,
without even so much as putting forth his hand to the voluminous tome
within his reach, and which needs only to be opened to furnish at every
page a refutation of the censures in which levity, if not bad faith, is
so ready to indulge; is difficult to be conceived or excused in any man
professing to be a lover of science, and a conscientious investigator
of truth. A great number of writers would assuredly not be so ready and
free to speak of what they have never studied, to analyze books which
they have never read, if they did not reckon upon the docility and
levity of their readers; they would certainly refrain from pronouncing
magisterially upon an opinion, a system, or a school, in fine, upon the
labors of many ages, from deciding the gravest questions by a sally of
wit, if they found that the reader, seized in his turn with distrust,
and particularly with the skepticism of the period, would not place
implicit faith in their assertions, but would take the trouble to
confront them with the facts to which they relate.
Our ancestors did not consider themselves justified, I will not say
in making an assertion, but even a single allusion, without giving
careful references to the source of their information. Their delicacy
on this point was carried to excess; but we have done wrong by going
to the opposite extreme, and judging that we might dispense with all
formality, even in the most important matters which imperiously demand
the testimony of facts. But the opinions of ancient writers are facts,
facts averred in their writings. By judging them hastily, without
entering into details, without imposing upon ourselves the obligation
of quoting authorities, we incur the suspicion of falsifying history,
and history, I repeat, the most precious, that of the human mind. The
levity observable in certain writers proceeds, in a great measure,
from the character which science has assumed in our days. There is no
longer any particular science, but only a general one, embracing them
all, and including in its immense circle all branches of knowledge.
Consequently, minds of ordinary capacity are obliged to remain
satisfied with vague notions, unfortunately only serving to stimulate
abstraction and universality. Never was knowledge so much generalized
as now, and never was it more difficult to obtain deserved renown for
wisdom. In every aspirant to scientific excellence the state of science
requires a laborious activity in the acquisition of knowledge, profound
reflection to regulate and direct it, a comprehensive and penetrating
view to simplify and concentrate it, an intellect of a high order,
elevating him to the regions in which science has established her
abode. How many men are endowed with these qualifications? But let us
revert to the subject.
Catholic theologians are so far from favoring despotism, that I doubt
much whether it would be possible to find better books than theirs
for enabling us to form clear and just ideas of the faculties of
power. I will even add that, generally speaking, they incline, in
a very remarkable manner, to the development of true liberty. The
great type of theological schools, the model to the contemplation of
which they have constantly turned during several centuries, are the
works of St. Thomas of Aquin; and we may with full confidence defy
our opponents to find us a jurist or philosopher who expounds with
more lucidity, wisdom, noble independence, and generous dignity, the
principles to which civil power ought to adhere. His _Treatise upon
Laws_ is immortal, and whoever has fully comprehended it has no further
information to acquire respecting the great principles which ought to
guide the legislator. You think lightly of past times, imagining that
till now nothing was known of politics or public right; and in your
imagination you invent an incestuous alliance between religion and
despotism, fancying you have discovered in the distant obscurity of the
cloister, the plot contrived by this infamous pact. But have you heard
the opinion of a religious of the thirteenth century upon the nature
of law? You already imagine that you see in his ideas force dominating
over all, and constantly invoking religion the better to disguise his
rude snares with a few falsehoods. Learn, then, that you could not
yourself have given a milder definition of law. You would never have
thought, as he has done, of excluding from it the idea of force; you
could never have conceived how, in so few words, he has managed to say
all, and with such exactitude, such lucidity, in terms so favorable
to the true liberty of the people and to the dignity of man. The
definition here spoken of being the summary of his entire doctrine,
and at the same time the guide which has directed theologians, may be
considered as an abridgment of theological doctrines in their relation
to the faculties of civil power. It presents to us at a single glance
what were, in this point of view, the predominating principles among
Catholics.
Civil power acts upon society through the medium of the law; and,
according to St. Thomas, the law is, "_a rule dictated by reason, the
aim of which is the public good, and promulgated by him who has the
care of society_." "Quædam rationis ordinatio ad bonum commune, et ab
eo qui curam communitatis habet promulgata." (1, 2, quæst. 90, art.
4.) A rule dictated by reason, _rationis ordinatio_. Here by one word
despotism and force are banished; here is the principle that the law
is not a pure effect of the will. The celebrated maxim, _Quod principi
placuit legis habet vigorem_, is here corrected. Although capable of
a reasonable and just interpretation, this maxim was, nevertheless,
incorrect, and inclined to flattery. A celebrated writer of our days
has devoted numerous pages to proving that legitimacy has not its
origin in the will of man, but in reason, inferring from this that
what ought to command men is not in the will of another man, but
reason. With much less pomp, but not less solidity and conciseness, the
holy Doctor expresses this idea in the words above quoted, _rationis
ordinatio_. On reflection we find that despotism, arbitrary power,
and tyranny are nothing else than the absence of reason in power, the
domination of the will. When reason commands, there is legitimacy,
justice, liberty; when the will alone commands, there is illegitimacy,
injustice, despotism. Hence the fundamental idea of all law is, that it
be in accordance with reason, that it be an emanation from reason, an
application of reason to society; and the will, in giving its sanction
to law and carrying it into execution, should be merely auxiliary to
reason, its instrument, its arm.
It is evident that, without the action of the will, there is no law;
for acts of pure reason, without the co-operation of the will, are
thoughts and not commands. They enlighten the mind, but do not produce
action. It is, therefore, impossible to conceive the existence of law
without the combined operation of the will and of reason. But this
is no reason why we should not consider all law to have a rational
foundation and to be conformable to reason, that it may merit the name
of law. These observations have not escaped the penetration of the holy
Doctor; he examines them, and dispels the error of believing that the
law consists in the mere will of the prince. He expresses himself as
follows: "Reason receives its motive power from the will, as we have
observed above (quæst. 17, art. 1;) for whilst the will seeks the end,
reason enjoins the means of its attainment; but the will, to have the
force of law, must be guided by reason. In this sense only can the will
of a sovereign be said to have the force of law; in any other sense it
would not be law, but injustice." "Ratio habet vim movendi a voluntate,
ut supra dictum est. (Quæst. 17, art. 1.) Ex hoc enim quod aliquis vult
finem, ratio imperat de his quæ sunt ad finem, sed voluntas de his quæ
imperantur, ad hoc quod legis rationem habeat, oportet quod sit aliqua
ratione regulata; et hoc modo intelligitur quod voluntas principis
habet vigorem legis; _alioquin voluntas principis magis esset iniquitas
quam lex_." (Quæst. 90, art. 1.)
These doctrines of St. Thomas are the same as those of all theologians.
Impartiality and good sense will tell us whether they are favorable to
absolutism and despotism, whether they are in any way opposed to true
liberty, whether they are not eminently conformable to the dignity of
man. These doctrines form the most explicit and conclusive proclamation
of the limits of civil power, and they certainly have in this respect
more weight than the declarations of imprescriptible rights. That which
humbles man, wounds in him the feeling of a just independence, and
introduces despotism into the world, is the will of man commanding and
exacting submission merely because it is his will; but by submitting
to reason, being guided by her dictates, we are not degraded; on the
contrary, we are elevated, we are dignified, for we live conformably
to eternal order and to the divine will. The obligation of being
subject to the law does not originate in the will of another, but in
reason. Theologians, however, have not considered the latter of itself
sufficient to command. They derive the sanction of the law from a
higher source; when the conscience of man was to be acted upon, to be
bound by duty, they could find nothing in the sphere of created things
capable of attaining so high an object. "Human laws, if they are just,"
says the holy Doctor, "are binding in conscience, and they derive their
power from the eternal law, from which they are formed, according to
what is said in Proverbs, chap. viii., 'By Me kings reign, and the
lawgivers decree just things.'" "Si quidem justæ sunt, habent vim
obligandi in foro conscientiæ a lege eterna, a qua derivantur, secundum
illud Proverb. cap. 8, per me reges regnant, et legum conditores justa
decernunt." (1, 2, quæst. 96, art. 3.) This proves, according to St.
Thomas, that just law is derived not exactly from human reason, but
from the eternal law; and that this is what makes it binding upon
conscience.
This is doubtless more philosophical than to seek the obligatory
force of laws in private reason, in pacts, or in the general will. In
this manner the titles, the true titles of humanity are explained, a
reasonable limit is placed upon civil power, and obedience is easily
obtained; the rights and duties of governments, as well as those of
subjects, are established upon solid and indestructible foundations;
the nature of power, society, command, and obedience become perfectly
comprehensible. It is no longer the will of one man predominating over
that of his fellow-man; it is not his reason, but reason emanating from
God, or more properly speaking the reason of God, the eternal law, God
Himself. A sublime theory, in which power finds its rights, its duties,
its force, its authority, its prestige, and in which society possesses
its safest guarantee of order, well-being, and true liberty; a theory
which divests authority of the will of man, since it changes this will
into an instrument of the eternal law, into a divine ministry, _whose
aim is the public good, ad bonum commune_. This, according to St.
Thomas, is also one of the essential conditions of law. It has been
asked, Whether kings are made for the people, or the people for kings?
Such a question could only arise from a want of due reflection upon
the nature of society, its object, and its origin, and upon the intent
of power. The concise expression above cited, _ad bonum commune_, is a
fitting answer to this question. "Laws," says the holy Doctor, "may be
unjust in two ways; either by being opposed to the commonweal, or by
having an improper aim, as when a government imposes upon its subjects
onerous laws, which do not serve the common interest, but rather
cupidity and ambition. Such laws are rather injustices than laws."
"Injustæ autem sunt leges dupliciter; uno modo per contrarietatem
ad bonum commune, e contrario prædictis; vel ex fine, sicut cum
aliquis præsidens leges imponit, onerosas subditis non pertinentes ad
utilitatem communem, sed magis ad propriam cupiditatem vel gloriam:
...... Et hujusmodi magis sunt violentiæ quam leges." (1, 2, q. 96, art.
4.) From this doctrine it follows, that command must be exercised for
the well-being of all; and, failing in this condition, it is unjust:
governors are invested with it only for the advantage of the governed.
Kings are not, as some philosophers, regardless of the most palpable
inconsistencies, have absurdly maintained, the slaves of their people;
neither is their power a simple commission without any real authority,
and continually subject to the caprice of their people; but, at the
same time, the people are not the property of their kings. The latter
can, by no means, consider their subjects as slaves, to be disposed of
at their free-will: governments are not, by any means, the absolute
arbiters of the lives and fortunes of the governed; they are bound
to watch over them, not as a master over slaves from whom he derives
profit, but as a father over the son whom he loves and whose happiness
he has at heart.
"The kingdom is not made for the king, but the king for the kingdom,"
says the holy Doctor, from whom I continue to quote; and, in a style
remarkable for its force and freedom, he continues as follows: "for God
has constituted kings to rule and govern, and to secure to every one
the possession of his rights; such is the aim of their institution; but
if kings, turning things to their own profit, should act otherwise,
they are no longer kings, but tyrants." (_D. Th. de Reg. Princ._ cap.
11.) From this doctrine it is evident, that the people are not made
for kings; that the subject is not made for the ruler; but that all
governments have been established for the good of society, and that
this alone should be the compass to guide those who are in command,
whatever be the form of government. From the president of the most
insignificant republic to the most powerful monarch, none are exempt
from this law; for it is a law anterior to society,--a law which
presided at the formation of society, and which is superior to human
law, inasmuch as it emanates from the Author of all society, from the
source of all law.
No, the people are not made for kings; kings are all appointed for
the good of the people: and if this object is not accomplished, the
government is useless; and this affects the republic as well as the
monarchy. To flatter kings with opposite maxims is to ruin them.
Religion has not, at any time, done this; this was not the language
of those illustrious men who, clothed in the sacerdotal habit,
delivered to the powerful ones of the earth the messages of Heaven.
"Kings, princes, magistrates," cries out the venerable Palafox, "all
jurisdiction is ordained by God for the preservation of His people,
not for their destruction; for defence, not for offence; for man's
right, and not for his injury. They who maintain that kings can do as
they please, and who establish their power upon their will, open the
way to tyranny. Those who maintain that kings have power to do as they
ought, and what is necessary for the preservation of their subjects
and of their crowns, for the exaltation of faith and religion, for the
just and right administration of justice, the preservation of peace
and the support of just war, for the due and becoming _éclat_ of regal
dignity, the honorable maintenance of their houses and families, speak
the truth without flattery, throw open the gates to justice, and to
magnanimous and royal virtues." (_Hist. Real. Sagrada_, lib. i. cap.
11.) When Louis XIV. said, "I am the state," he had not learned this
maxim either from Bossuet, Bourdaloue, or Masillon. Pride, exalted by
so much grandeur and power, and infatuated by base adulators, was here
speaking by his mouth. How unsearchable are the ways of Providence!
The corpse of this man, who said he was the state, was insulted at his
funeral; and, before the lapse of a century, his grandson suffered
death on the scaffold! Thus the crimes of families are expiated, as
well as those of nations. When the measure of His indignation is filled
up, the Lord reminds terrified man that the God of mercy is likewise a
God of vengeance, and that, as He opened upon the world the floodgates
of heaven, so also He lets loose upon kings and nations the tempests of
revolution. When once the rights and duties of power are founded upon
a base as solid as that of their divine origin, when once they become
established by a rule as exalted as that of the eternal law, there
is no longer any necessity for extolling or exaggerating power, nor
of attributing to it faculties to which it has no claim; and, on the
other hand, it is no longer necessary to exact from it the fulfilment
of its obligations with that imperious haughtiness which enervates by
humiliating it. Flattery and menace become alike needless when there
are other resources for exciting it to action, and other barriers for
restraining it within due bounds. The statue of the king, it is true,
is not set up in the public squares as an object for the people's
adoration; but, on the other hand, the king is no longer placed at the
mercy of democrats, soon to become an object of mockery and derision,
the contemptible laughing-stock of demagogues.
Observe the moderation and mildness of the definition we have just
analysed! It does not contain a single word which can wound the
most delicate susceptibility of the most ardent partisans of public
liberty. The law, according to this definition, consists in the rule
of reason; the common weal is its only aim; and when the authority of
him who promulgates and executes it is spoken of, there is no mention
made of any sovereignty, no expression is used indicative of slavish
subjection, the most measured term which it was possible to select is
made use of--_care_: _Qui CURAM communitatis habet_. Bear in mind,
that the author here quoted is accustomed to weigh his words like
precious metal, and to employ them with the most scrupulous delicacy,
pausing a long time, when necessary, to explain any that may present
the least ambiguity, and you will then understand what ideas this great
man entertained upon power; you will discover whether the spirit of
oppressive doctrines could have prevailed in the Catholic schools,
in which this Doctor was, and is still, acknowledged as an almost
infallible oracle.
Compare the definition given by St. Thomas, and adopted by all
theologians, with that which Rousseau has given. In that of St. Thomas,
law is the expression of reason; in that of Rousseau, the expression
of will: in the former, it is an application of the eternal law; in
the latter, the product of general will. On which side are wisdom and
good sense? Law was understood among the nations of Europe as it is
explained by St. Thomas and all the Catholic schools; and tyranny was
banished from Europe, Asiatic despotism was impossible, the admirable
institution of European monarchy was established. At a later period,
Rousseau's explanation was adopted, and then came the Convention, with
its scaffolds and its horrors.
Publicists have already nearly abandoned the theory of "a general
will;" and even those who contend for the sovereignty of the people,
do not maintain that the will of all the citizens should constitute
the law. The law, say they, is not the expression of general will, but
of general reason. The philosopher of Geneva would have the will of
individuals collected, the aggregate of which he termed the general
will. In like manner, the publicists of whom we are speaking are of
opinion that it is necessary to collect, amongst the governed, the
greatest amount of reason, and to give this to the government for
its guidance, the governing body being merely an instrument for the
application of it. It is not men who command, say they, but the law;
and the law is nothing else than reason and justice.
This theory, so far as it is correct, and apart from the applications
which might be made of it, is not a discovery of modern science; it is
a traditional principle of all Europe, which presided at the formation
of society, and has given to civil power an organisation differing
widely from those of antiquity, and equally so from those of modern
times that have not participated in our civilisation. This, on close
examination, appears to be the reason why European monarchies, even
the most absolute, have been so very different from the Asiatic.
A singular phenomenon: at the very time when society among us had
no legal guarantees against the power of kings, it still had other
very forcible ones which were purely moral. Modern science cannot,
therefore, claim the discovery of a new principle of government; it
has unknowingly resuscitated the ancient one. By rejecting the doctrine
of Rousseau, instead of making, according to the vulgar expression,
a step in advance, it retrograded; but to retrograde is not always
to lose an advantage. What is or can be lost by receding from the
brink of a precipice to enter upon a safe road? Rousseau complains,
and with reason, that certain writers have so far exaggerated the
prerogatives of civil power, as to convert mankind into a common herd,
of which rulers could dispose to serve their interest or caprice. Such
reproaches, however, cannot be applied to the Catholic Church, nor to
any of the illustrious schools sheltered in her bosom. The philosopher
of Geneva makes a severe attack upon Hobbes and Grotius for having
maintained this servile doctrine. Catholics have nothing to do with the
cause of these two writers. I will observe, however, that it would not
be just to place the latter upon a parallel with the former. Grotius
has certainly afforded reason for the accusation. He maintains that
there are cases in which governments are not for the benefit of the
governed, but for that of the governing powers. "Sic imperia quædam
esse possunt comparata ad regum utilitatem." (_De Jure Belli et Pacis_,
lib. i. cap. 3.) But, whilst we acknowledge that this principle has a
dangerous tendency, we grant that the doctrines of the Dutch writer do
not upon the whole tend to the total ruin of morality.
By rendering Grotius his due share of justice, we prevent any
exaggeration of the evil which may exist on the side of our opponents;
it must now be permitted to Catholic hearts to remark with noble
satisfaction, that such doctrines could never be established amongst
the professors of the true faith, and that the fatal maxims which lead
to oppression have originated precisely among those who have deviated
from the teaching of the Chair of St. Peter. No; Catholics have never
brought under discussion whether kings have an unlimited power over
the lives and fortunes of their subjects, to such a degree as to
admit of no opposition, whatever be the excess of the absolutism and
despotism exercised over them. Whenever flattery raised its voice to
exaggerate the royal prerogative, this voice was immediately silenced
by the unanimous outcry of the supporters of sound doctrine. Witness
the remarkable example of a solemn retractation imposed by the tribunal
of the Inquisition upon a preacher who had exceeded his bounds. Not
so in England, a country proverbial for its hatred of Catholicity.
Whilst here, in Spain, it was forbidden under a severe penalty to
circulate maxims so degrading, in England the question was proposed
with the greatest gravity, and writers upon law were divided in their
sentiments. (See end of chapter 39.)
Every impartial reader has already been able to form an opinion on
the value of declamations against the right divine, and on that
pretended affinity of Catholic doctrines with despotism and slavery.
The exposition of these doctrines which I have just given is certainly
not founded upon vain reasoning, sought out on purpose to darken the
question. I have not in any way shunned the difficulty.
The question was, to know in what these doctrines consisted. I have
shown clearly, that those who calumniate them do not understand them,
and that we may even be allowed to suppose that they have never taken
the trouble to examine them, such is the levity and ignorance with
which they express themselves. Perhaps I have adduced too many facts
and quotations; but let the reader bear in mind, that my object is not
to present him with a code of doctrines, but to give to this point
of doctrine an historical investigation. Now, history does not call
for discourses, but facts; and in matters of doctrine, the sentiments
of authors are facts. Whilst beholding the salutary reaction now
taking place in favour of sound principles, let us avoid giving an
incomplete statement of the truth. For the cause of religion it is
highly important that its advocates should be free from even the most
remote suspicion of dishonesty or dissimulation. On this account,
I have, without hesitation, given in their integrity the doctrines
laid down by Catholic writers, just as I find them in their works. By
misrepresenting and confounding facts, Protestants and unbelievers have
succeeded in deceiving; let me hope that, by explaining and elucidating
them, I shall not be unsuccessful in removing the deception.
I purpose examining, in the remaining part of this work, some other
questions relating to the same subject--questions perhaps not more
important, but certainly more delicate. And for this reason, I was
obliged to smooth the way, that I might proceed with more liberty
and ease. I have hitherto made the cause of religion defend itself
with its own weapons, without borrowing the support of auxiliaries
which were superfluous. I shall proceed in the same course, fully
convinced that Catholicity can only lose by any line of vindication
that identifies it with political interests, and confines it within a
circle too limited for its immensity. Empires appear and disappear; the
Church of Christ will last till the end of time. Political opinions
undergo changes and modifications; the august dogmas of our religion
remain immutable. Thrones rise and fall; and the rock upon which Jesus
Christ has built His Church stands unshaken throughout the course of
time, ever defying the powers of hell. When we take up arms in her
defence, let us be impressed with the importance of our mission; let
there be no exaggeration, no flattery--the pure truth in measured, but
accurate and firm language. In addressing ourselves to the people, in
proclaiming the truth to kings, let us bear in mind that religion is
above politics, and God above kings and people.
CHAPTER LIV.
ON RESISTANCE TO THE CIVIL POWER.
The doctrines of Catholicity, therefore, in reference both to the
origin and the exercise of civil power, are unobjectionable. Let us
now proceed to another point--one of greater delicacy and difficulty,
if not of more importance. To state the question frankly, without any
subterfuge or evasion: "_Is it allowable in any case to resist the
civil power?_" It is impossible to speak more distinctly, or to employ
more precise and simple terms in stating this question, which is the
most important, the most difficult, and the most startling of any
that the subject we have in hand presents for our investigation. We
know that Protestantism from its commencement proclaimed the right of
insurrection against civil power; and no one is ignorant of the fact
that Catholicity has ever preached up obedience to this power; so that
if the former has been from its infancy an element of revolution and
of overthrow, the latter has been an element of tranquillity and good
order. This distinction might induce us to believe that Catholicity
favors oppression, since it leaves the people without arms to defend
their liberty. "You preach up obedience to the civil powers," our
adversaries will say; "you pronounce, in all cases, an anathema upon
any insurrection which attacks them; should tyranny prevail, therefore,
you become its most powerful auxiliaries; for, by your doctrine, you
arrest the arm ready to be raised in defence of liberty; you stifle
with the cry of conscience the indignation awakened in generous
hearts." This is a serious charge, which compels us to elucidate, as
far as possible, this important point, and to distinguish in it truth
from error, certainty from doubt.
Some men would shrink from the investigation of such questions, and
prefer drawing a veil over them--a veil which they venture not to
raise, lest they should find an abyss. And assuredly their timidity
is not inexcusable; for there are abysses unfathomable, and dangers
that strike the mind with awe. One false step may lead to destruction;
one move in a wrong direction may let loose tempests that would
lay society in ruins. Whilst, however, I willingly admit the pure
intentions of such persons, I may be permitted to observe, that their
prudence is quite thrown away, that their foresight and precaution are
of no avail. Whether they investigate these questions or not, they are
investigated, agitated, and decided, in a manner that we must deplore;
and, worse still, the theories thence arising have been reduced to
practice. Revolutions are no longer confined to books, they have become
realities; quitting the quiet path of mere speculative philosophy,
they are to be seen in the streets and in the public squares. Since,
then, things have come to such a pass, why seek palliatives, make use
of restrictions, or invoke silence? Let us tell the truth, just as it
is, without concealment; since it is the truth, it will neither shrink
before abundance of knowledge, nor the attacks of error. It is truth;
its manifestation, its diffusion can have no injurious effect. In a
word, God, who is the Author of societies, had no need of establishing
them upon falsehood. This candor is the more necessary, because
political changes may have led some persons to disavow the truths we
are discussing, or no longer to understand them aright; whilst others
imagine that obedience to legitimate authority has been taught only by
a party anxious to make this doctrine the foundation of their tyranny.
Men of erroneous opinions and evil intentions have their own codes, to
which they have recourse whenever it will forward their designs: their
fatal errors or their sordid interests form the rule of their conduct;
this is the source of their knowledge and of their inspirations. Men,
therefore, endowed with a pure heart and with upright intentions,
should know what to hold by in political oscillations; it is no longer
sufficient for them to have a general knowledge of the principle of
obedience to the legitimate authorities; they must also be acquainted
with their applications.
It is true that, in conflicts arising from civil discord, many men
throw aside their own convictions to accommodate themselves to the
exigencies of their interests; but it is no less certain, that there
is still to be found a great number of conscientious men who adhere
to them. We may also add, that the generality of the individuals
composing a nation, not being usually in the urgent necessity of
choosing between the sacrifice of their convictions and the risk of
grave and imminent peril, those who entertain them usually find means
to make their influence felt in preventing great evils or in remedying
them. According to certain _pessimistes_, reason and justice are for
ever banished from the earth, leaving it a prey to self-interest, and
substituting for the dictates of conscience the designs of egotism. In
their estimation, it is labor in vain to discuss and decide questions
which may guide us in practice; for, according to them, whatever a
man's conviction may be in theory, his practical decision will always
be the same. It is my happiness, or misfortune, to take a different
view of the case, and to believe that there still exist in the world,
and particularly in Spain, men of profound convictions, and possessed
of sufficient strength of mind to regulate their conduct by those
convictions. The strongest proof that the inutility of doctrines is
exaggerated, is the zeal evinced by all parties to lay hold of them.
Whether from interest or from delicacy, all appeal to doctrines; and
this interest or delicacy would not exist, if doctrines did not possess
a powerful ascendency in society. Nothing, in discussion, is more
perplexing than the introduction of several questions at the same time;
and for this reason, I shall proceed in such a manner as to distinguish
those which present themselves here. I will resolve, one by one, those
which relate to our object, and pass over those which are foreign to
it. Above all, we must bear in mind the general principle at all times
inculcated by Catholicity, viz. _the obligation of obeying legitimate
authority_. Let us now see how this principle is to be applied. In the
first place, _Are we to obey the civil power when it commands something
that is evil in itself?_ No, we are not; for the simple reason that
what is evil in itself is forbidden by God; now, _we must obey God
rather than men_.
In the second place, _Are we to obey the civil power when it interferes
in matters not included in the circle of its faculties?_ No; for, with
regard to these matters, it is not a power. From the very supposition
that its faculties do not extend so far, we affirm that, in this point
of view, it is not a real power. Besides, what I have advanced does not
exactly and exclusively concern spiritual matters, to which I appear
to allude. I apply this restriction of civil power also to matters
purely temporal. It is necessary to refer here to what I have said in
another part of this work, viz., that whilst we grant to civil power
sufficient force and attributes for the maintenance of order and unity
in the social body, it is just nevertheless, that we should not allow
it to absorb the individual and the family, so as to destroy their
individuality, to deprive them of their own sphere, and leave them only
the means of acting as an integral part of society. This is one of the
distinguishing features between Christian and pagan civilisation: the
latter, in its zeal for the preservation of social unity, excluded
every individual and family right; the former, on the contrary, has
amalgamated the interests of the individual with those of families
and society, so that they neither destroy nor embarrass each other.
Thus, besides the sphere within which the action of the civil power
is properly confined, there are others into which it has no right to
enter, and in which individuals and families live without clashing with
the colossal force of the government.
It is just to observe here, that Catholicity has done much for the
maintenance of this principle, which is a strong guarantee of the
liberty of the people. The separation of the two powers temporal and
spiritual, the independence of the latter with respect to the former,
the distinction of the persons in whom it is vested: such has been one
of the principal causes of this liberty, which, under different forms
of government, is the common inheritance of European nations. Ever
since the foundation of the Church, this principle of the independence
of the spiritual power has at all times served, by the mere fact of its
existence, to remind men that the rights of civil power are limited,
that there are things beyond its province, cases in which a man may
say, and ought to say, _I will not obey_.
This is another of those cases in which Protestantism has given a wrong
direction to the civilisation of Europe, and in which, far from opening
the way to liberty, it has riveted the chains of slavery. Its first
step was the abolition of the Pontifical authority, the overthrow of
the hierarchy, the refusal to grant to the Church any kind of power
whatever, and the placing of spiritual supremacy in the hands of
princes; that is to say, it has retrograded towards pagan civilisation,
in which we find the sceptre united with the pontificate. The grand
political problem was precisely the separation of these two powers, in
order to save society from subjection to one sole unlimited authority,
exercising its faculties without restraint, and from which might
consequently be expected vexation and oppression. This separation was
effected without any political views, any fixed design on the part of
men, wherever Catholicity was established; for her discipline required
and her dogmas inculcated it. Is it not strange that the advocates of
theories of equilibrium and counterpoise, who have so loudly extolled
the utility of separating powers, and of dividing authority among them
with a view to prevent it from being converted into tyranny, should
not have noticed the profound wisdom of this Catholic doctrine, even
when considered merely in a social and political point of view? But no;
it is remarkable, on the contrary, that all modern revolutions have
manifested a decided tendency towards the amalgamation of the civil
and ecclesiastical powers--a convincing proof that these revolutions
have proceeded from an origin contrary to the generative principle
of European civilisation, and that instead of guiding it towards
perfection, they have rather served to lead it astray. The union of
Church and State in England, under the reigns of Henry VIII. and
Elizabeth, produced the most cruel despotism; and if that country at a
later period acquired a higher degree of liberty, it was not assuredly
owing to that religious authority given by Protestantism to the head of
the state, but in spite of it. It is worthy of remark, that in later
times, when England entered upon a more extensive sphere of liberty,
it was owing to the diminution of the civil power on all matters
appertaining to religion, and to a greater development of Catholicity,
opposed in its very principles to this monstrous supremacy. In the
North of Europe, where the Protestant system has also prevailed, civil
authority has been unlimited; and even at the present time, we find the
Emperor of Russia indulging in the most barbarous persecutions against
Catholics; more distrustful of those who defend the independence of
spiritual power, than of the revolutionary clubs. The autocrat is
devoured with a thirst for unlimited authority, and a decided instinct
urges him to attack in particular the Catholic religion, which forms
his principal obstacle.
It is remarkable with what uniformity all power, in this respect,
tends to despotism, whether under a revolutionary or monarchical form.
Impatient of the restraint laid upon him by the spiritual power, Louis
XIV. attempted to crush the power of Rome. He was urged to it by the
same motives as the Constituent Assembly; the monarch rested his
cause upon the rights of royalty, and the liberties of the Gallican
Church--the Constituent Assembly invoked the rights of the nation,
and the principles of philosophy; but in the main they were actuated
by one and the same motive, that of ascertaining whether or not civil
power should be restricted: in the former case, it was monarchy tending
to despotism; in the latter, democracy advancing to the terrors
of the Convention. When Napoleon wished to bruise the head of the
revolutionary hydra, to reorganize society, to create a power, he made
use of religion as the most potent element. Catholicity was the only
predominating religion in France; to this he had recourse, and signed
the _Concordat_. But, observe, that no sooner did he imagine his work
of reparation complete, and the critical moment of the establishment of
his power passed, than he began to think of extending it, of freeing
himself from all restraint. He began to look upon that pontiff, whose
presence at his coronation had so much gratified him, with a more
supercilious eye. At first he had some serious disputes with him, and
ended by becoming his most inveterate enemy.
These observations, to which I invite the attention of every reflecting
mind, acquire more importance from the consideration of what has taken
place in our own religious and most Catholic monarchy. In spite of
the preponderating influence of the Catholic religion in Spain, the
principle of resistance to the court of Rome has ever been preserved
in a particular and remarkable manner; thus, whilst the Austrian
dynasty and the Bourbons endeavoured to lay aside our old laws, so
far as they were favourable to political liberty, they preserved as a
sacred deposit the traditional resistance of Ferdinand the Catholic,
of Charles V., and of Philip II. The deep root which Catholicity had
taken in Spain doubtless prevented matters from being carried to
extremes; but it is no less true that the germ existed, and was handed
down from generation to generation, as if its complete development
was expected at some more favourable period. This fact was placed in
peculiarly strong relief at the time of the Bourbon accession, when
the monarchy of Louis XIV. was introduced amongst us, and the last
vestiges of the ancient liberties of Castile, Aragon, Valencia, and
Catalonia disappeared; the mania for kingly rights was at its height in
the reigns of Charles III. and Charles IV. Strange coincidence! The
epoch in which the greatest jealousy was entertained against the Court
of Rome and the independence of Church authority, was exactly that in
which ministerial despotism was in its greatest force, and in which
there was seen something still worse--the despotism of a favorite,
with all its pitiful show. True, the ideas of the French schools were
at that time influencing Spain; and of this neither the King, nor,
probably, some of his ministers, were aware: but this does not militate
against the reflections we are making; on the contrary, it comes in
support of them, by showing their applicability to circumstances quite
dissimilar, and consequently their soundness and importance. The
object here aimed at was the overthrow of the established authority,
to make way for another equally unlimited; to effect this, it was
necessary to urge on the former to abuse its prerogatives, and, at the
same time, to establish precedents to fall back upon, so soon as the
revolution should have displaced the absolute monarchy. What important
reflections are here presented to us! What strange analogies rise to
view between circumstances apparently most antagonistic! In our times,
we have seen bishops brought to trial from the same motives that were
alleged in a celebrated cause in the reign of Charles III.; and the
_Supreme Tribunals_ of our own days have heard from the lips of their
_fiscals_[B] the same doctrines formerly propounded by those of the
_Council_. Thus do doctrines meet, and thus, by different ways, do
we arrive at the same end. According to the ancient _fiscals_, the
authority of the king was every thing; the rights of the crown, like
the ark of old, were held so sacred, that to touch, or even to look
upon them, was accounted a sacrilege. Well, the ancient monarchy has
disappeared--the throne is no longer any thing more than a shadow
of what it once was--the Revolution has triumphed over it; and yet,
despite a change so profound, it is not long since a _fiscal_ of the
Supreme Tribunal, charging a bishop with an offence against the rights
of the civil power, made use of these words: "In the state, a leaf
cannot be plucked without the permission of government." These words
need no comment; the writer of these lines heard them uttered; and this
plain, unequivocal declaration of arbitrary power seemed to him to
throw a new ray of light upon history.
[B] Crown attorneys, charged with the prosecution of criminal and other
causes.
The gravity and importance of this subject required this digression;
it was incumbent on me to show how far the Catholic principle of the
independence of spiritual power may serve the cause of true liberty.
This principle, in fact, eminently teaches that the faculties of civil
power are limited, and it is, consequently, a perpetual condemnation
of despotism. To revert to the original question. It remains, then,
established, that we are to be subject to the civil power so long as it
does not go beyond its proper limits; but that the Catholic doctrine
never enjoins obedience when civil power oversteps the limits of its
faculties.
It will not be uninteresting to the reader to learn how the principle
of obedience was understood by one of the most illustrious interpreters
of Catholic doctrine--by the holy Doctor so often cited. According
to him, whenever laws are unjust (and observe, that, in his opinion,
they may be so in many ways), they are not binding on conscience,
unless for fear of creating scandal, or causing greater evils; that is
to say, that, in certain cases, an unjust law may become obligatory,
not by virtue of any duty which it imposes, but from motives of
prudence. These are his words, to which I crave the reader's particular
attention: "Laws are unjust in two ways; either because they are
opposed to the common weal; or on account of their aim, as is the case
when a government imposes upon its subjects onerous laws, not for the
good of the commonweal, but for the sake of self-interest or ambition;
or on account of their author, as when any one makes a law without
being invested with proper faculties; again, they may be unjust in
form, as when the taxes are unequally divided among the multitude,
although in other respects tending to the public good. Such laws are
rather outrages than laws; since, as St. Augustin observes (lib. i. _de
Lib. Arb._ cap. 5), 'An unjust law does not appear to be a law.' Such
laws, therefore, are not binding in conscience, unless, perhaps, for
the avoiding of scandal and trouble--a motive which ought to induce man
to give up his right, as St. Matthew observes: 'And whosoever shall
force thee to go one mile, go with him other two; and if any man will
go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak
also.' Laws may also be unjust in another point of view, when they are
contrary to the will of God; as the laws of tyrants enforcing idolatry,
or anything else contrary to divine law. With respect to such laws, it
is not allowable, under any circumstances, to obey them; for, as it is
said in the Acts of the Apostles, 'We must obey God rather than man.'"
"Injustæ autem sunt leges dupliciter; uno modo per contrarietatem ad
bonum commune e contrario prædictis, vel ex fine, sicut cum aliquis
præsidens leges imponit onerosas subditis non pertinentes ad utilitatem
communem, sed magis ad propriam cupiditatem vel gloriam; vel etiam ex
auctore, sicut cum aliquis legem fert ultra sibi commissam potestatem;
vel etiam ex forma cum inæqualiter onera multitudinis dispensantur,
etiamsi ordinentur ad bonum commune; et hujusmodi magis sunt violentiæ
quam leges, quia sicut Augustinus dicit (lib. i. _de Lib. Arb._ cap.
5, parum a princ.) lex esse non videtur quæ justa non fuerit, unde
tales leges in foro conscientiæ non obligant, nisi forte propter
vitandum scandalum vel turbationem, propter quod etiam homo juri suo
cedere debet secundum illud Math. cap. v. 'Qui te angariaverit mille
passus, vade cum eo alia duo, et qui abstulerit tibi tunicam da ei et
pallium.' Alio modo leges possunt esse injustæ per contrarietatem ad
bonum divinum, sicut leges tyrannorum inducentes ad idololatriam, vel
ad quodcumque aliud quod sit contra legem divinam, et tales leges nullo
modo licet observare, quia sicut dicitur Act. cap. v.: 'Obedire oportet
Deo magis quam hominibus.'" (_D. Th._ 1, 2, quæst. 90, art. 1.)
This doctrine furnishes us with the following rules:
1. We cannot, under any circumstances, obey the civil power when its
commands are opposed to the divine law.
2. When laws are unjust, they are not binding in conscience.
3. It may become necessary to obey these laws from motives of prudence;
that is, in order to avoid scandal and commotions.
4. Laws are unjust from some one of the following causes:
When they are opposed to the common weal--when their aim is not the
good of the commonweal--when the legislator outsteps the limits of his
faculties--when, although in other respects tending to the good of
the commonweal, and proceeding from competent authority, they do not
observe suitable equity; for instance, when they divide unequally the
public imposts.
We have quoted and copied the venerable text whence these rules are
derived: their illustrious author has been the guide of all the
theological schools during the last six centuries; his authority has
never been called in question in these schools on points of dogma or
morality; these rules may, therefore, be regarded as the recapitulation
of the doctrines of Catholic theologians with reference to the
obedience due to authority. We may now, without doubt, appeal with
entire confidence to every man of good sense. Let him judge whether
these doctrines are in the least inclined to despotism, whether they
have the least tendency to tyranny, in fine, whether they aim the
slightest blow at liberty. It is vain to seek in them the slightest
appearance of flattery to the civil power, whose limits are marked out
with rigorous severity; if it outsteps them, it is openly told, "Thy
laws are not laws, but outrages; they are not binding in conscience;
and if, in some instances, thou art obeyed, it is not owing to any
obligation, but to prudence, in order to avoid scandal and commotion;
it is thenceforth such a dishonor to thee, that thy triumph, far from
entitling thee to renown, assimilates thee to the robber who despoils
the peaceable man of his garment, and to whom the latter, for the
sake of peace, gives up his cloak also." If these are doctrines of
oppression and despotism, we also are advocates for such oppression and
despotism; for we cannot conceive doctrines more favorable to liberty.
Upon these principles the admirable institution of European monarchy
was founded. This teaching has created the moral defences by which that
monarchy is surrounded; defences restraining it within the limits of
its duties, even where political guarantees do not exist. The mind,
wearied with foolish declamations against the _tyranny of kings_, and,
on the other hand, not less tired of the boisterous adulations lavished
upon power in modern times, expands and rejoices on meeting with this
pure, disinterested, and sincere expression of the rights and duties of
governments and of people, on hearing this language, impressed with as
much of wisdom as of upright intention and generous freedom. What books
were consulted by men making use of such language? The Scriptures, the
Fathers, the collections of ecclesiastical documents. Could they have
received their inspirations from the society which surrounded them? No;
for in that same society disorder and confusion prevailed; sometimes a
turbulent disobedience, at others despotism was predominant. And yet
they speak with as much discretion, tact, and calmness as if they were
living in the midst of well-regulated society. They were guided by
divine revelation, which taught them truth. How often did they see it
forgotten and trampled under foot! But uninfluenced by circumstances,
however unfavorable, they wrote in a region far above the atmosphere of
human passions. Truth is of all times; proclaim it ever, and God will
effect the rest.[31]
CHAPTER LV.
ON RESISTANCE TO DE FACTO GOVERNMENTS.
The questions hitherto discussed relating to the obedience due to power
are very grave; but those of resistance to it are still more important.
Is it allowable, under any circumstances, in any supposition, to
resist the civil power _by physical force_? Does there nowhere exist a
deposing power? How far do Catholic doctrines extend on this subject?
Such are the extreme points we purpose to discuss. According to one
system, obedience is due to a government from the very fact of its
existence, even on the supposition that its existence is illegitimate.
Now, it is important to demonstrate, at the very outset, the
unsoundness of this doctrine, which is contrary to right reason, and
has never been taught by Catholicity. In preaching obedience "to the
powers that be," the Church speaks of powers that have a legitimate
existence. The absurdity, that a simple fact can create right, can
never become a dogma of Catholicity. Were it true that resistance would
be unlawful, it would be equally true that an illegitimate government
has a right to command; for the obligation to obey is correlative
with the right to command; and an illegitimate government would,
consequently, become legitimatised by the simple fact of its existence.
This would legitimatise all usurpations; the most heroic resistance
on the part of the people would be condemned; the world would be
abandoned to the mere rule of force. No; that degrading doctrine is not
true which derives legitimacy from usurpation; which says to a people
conquered and subjugated by any usurper whatever, "Obey your tyrant;
his rights are founded on force, and your obligation to him on your
weakness." No; there cannot be truth in a doctrine that would efface
from our history one of its brightest pages, that would entail disgrace
upon a nation taking up arms to expel an usurper, struggling for its
independence during a period of six years, and finally overthrowing
the conqueror of Europe. If Napoleon had succeeded in establishing his
power amongst us, the Spanish nation would still have maintained the
right on account of which it revolted in 1808; victory could not have
rendered usurpation legitimate. The victims of the second of May did
not legalise the command of Murat; and had even every corner of the
peninsula been made a theatre of horrors similar to those witnessed
on the Prado, the blood of martyred patriots, covering the usurper
and his satellites with everlasting infamy, would only have confirmed
the sacred right of revolting in defence of the throne, of national
independence. We must repeat it: the simple fact does not create a
right, either in private or public affairs; and so soon as such a
principle is acknowledged, every idea of reason and justice disappears
from the world. Those who may have wished to flatter governments with
so fatal a doctrine, were not aware that this was the very way to ruin
them, and to sow the seeds of usurpation and insurrection. What will
be safe here below if we admit the principle, that success insures
justice, and that the conqueror is always the rightful ruler? Is not
this throwing open a wide gate to ambition, and to every crime? Is it
not exciting men to forget every idea of right, reason, and justice,
to acknowledge no other rule than brute force? Governments protected
by so strange a doctrine would assuredly owe little gratitude to their
protectors: this, in fact, is no defence; it is an insult; it is more
of a cruel sarcasm than an apology. To what, indeed, does it amount,
and how would this doctrine sound? Why, as follows: "People, obey him
who commands you; you say his authority is usurped; we do not deny
it; but, by the very fact of his having attained his end, the usurper
has acquired a right. He is, indeed, a robber who has attacked you on
the highway; he has stolen your money; but, by the mere fact of your
not being able to resist him, and being forced to deliver to him your
purse, now that he is possessed of it, you ought to respect this money
as an inviolable property: such is your duty. It is a robbery; but this
robbery being a _consummated act_, you cannot now obtain redress for
it."
In this point of view the doctrine of _consummated facts_ appears
so much opposed to generally received ideas, that no reasonable man
can seriously accept it. I do not deny that there are cases in which
obedience, even to an illegitimate government, is to be recommended;
when, for instance, we foresee that resistance would be useless, that
it would only lead to new disorders, and to a greater effusion of
blood: but in recommending prudence to the people, let us not disguise
it under false doctrines--let us beware of calming the exasperation
of misfortune by circulating errors subversive of all governments,
of all society. It is worthy of remark, that all powers, even the
most illegitimate, have a truer instinct than that manifested by the
maintenance of such maxims. All powers in the first moment of their
existence, before commencing their operations, before proceeding to one
single act, proclaim their legitimacy. They seek it in right divine and
human, they establish it upon birth or election, they derive it from
historical titles, or the sudden development of extraordinary events;
but all tends to the same point, the pretension to legitimacy. They
never speak of the mere fact of their existence; from the instinct that
prompts their own preservation they learn better than to rely upon
such grounds, since to do so would be to annihilate their authority,
to destroy their prestige, to encourage revolt; in a word, to commit
self-destruction. We have here the most explicit condemnation of the
doctrine we are combating, for the most shameless usurpers have more
respect for good sense and the public conscience.
It sometimes happens that doctrines the most erroneous assume a
veil of gentleness and Christian meekness. We must overthrow the
arguments that might be employed against us, by the advocates of
blind submission to any power that happens to be established. "The
Scriptures," they will say, "prescribe to us obedience to the
authorities, without any distinction; the Christian, therefore, ought
not to make any distinction, but submit with resignation to such as he
finds established." In reply to this objection, I see the following
very decisive answers. 1. Illegitimate authority is no authority at
all; the idea of power involves the idea of right, without which
it is mere physical power, that is, _force_. When, therefore, the
Scriptures prescribe obedience to the authorities, it is the lawful
authorities that are implied. 2. The sacred text, in enjoining us
obedience to the civil power, tells us that it is ordained by God
Himself, that it is the minister of God Himself; and it is evident that
usurpation is never invested with so high a character. The usurper
is perhaps the instrument of Providence, _the scourge of Heaven_, as
Attila designated himself, but not the minister of God. 3. The sacred
Scriptures prescribe obedience to the subject in relation to the civil
power, in the same way as they prescribe it to the slave in relation
to his master. But what sort of masters are here implied? Evidently
such as exercised a legitimate dominion, as it was understood at the
time, conformable to the prevailing laws and customs; otherwise the
Scriptures would require obedience from such slaves as were reduced
to slavery by an abuse of power. Hence, as the obedience to masters
prescribed by the Scriptures does not deprive the slave unjustly
retained in servitude of his right, so also the obedience due to the
established authorities should be restricted to the lawful authorities,
and to cases in which prudence would dictate it in order to avoid
commotion and scandal.
In confirmation of the doctrine of mere _de facto_ government, the
conduct of the first Christians has been sometimes alleged. "They
submitted," it is said, "to the constituted authorities without
even inquiring whether they were legitimate or not. At this epoch
usurpations were frequent, the imperial throne was established by
force, its occupants one after another owed their elevation to military
insurrection, and to the assassination of their predecessors. We
find, nevertheless, that Christians never meddled with the question
of legitimacy; they respected the established power, and this power
failing, they submitted without murmuring to the new tyrant who had
usurped the throne." This argument, it cannot be denied, is very
plausible, and presents at first sight a serious difficulty; a few
reflections, however, suffice to show its extreme futility. In order
that an insurrection against an unlawful power may be legitimate and
prudent, those who undertake to overturn it should be sure of its
illegitimacy, should have in view the substitution of a lawful power,
and should count besides on the probability of the success of their
enterprise. If these conditions are not fulfilled, the insurrection
has no object; it is a mere fruitless attempt, an impotent revenge,
which, instead of being useful to society, only causes bloodshed, only
irritates the power attacked, and can have in consequence no other
effect than to increase oppression and tyranny.
None of the conditions here mentioned were in existence at the time we
are speaking of; all that upright men could do was quietly to resign
themselves to the calamitous circumstances of the times, and by fervent
prayer to implore the Almighty to take compassion on mankind.
When every thing was decided by force of arms, who could say whether
such or such an emperor was lawfully established? Upon what rules
was the imperial succession established? Where was legitimacy to be
substituted for illegitimacy? Amongst the Romans--those vile, degraded
beings, kissing the chains of the first tyrant who offered them _food_
and _games_? In the worthless posterity of those illustrious patricians
who formerly gave laws to the universe? Was it vested in the sons or
in the family of some assassinated emperor, when the laws had not
established hereditary succession, when the sceptre of the empire was
at the disposal of the legions, when it frequently happened that the
emperor, the victim of usurpation, had been himself merely a usurper,
who had mounted to the throne over the corpse of his rival? Did it
exist in the ancient rights of those conquered nations now reduced to
simple dependencies of the empire, divested of all national spirit,
having even lost the recollection of their former condition, without a
thought capable of conducting them in the work of their emancipation,
and destitute of resources against the colossal force of their masters?
What object could any one have, under such circumstances, in making
attempts against the established government? When the legions decided
the fate of the world, alternately elevating and assassinating their
masters, what could or what ought the Christian to do? The disciple
of a God of peace and love, he could not take part in criminal scenes
of bloodshed and tumult; authority was tottering and uncertain; it
was not for him to decide whether it was legitimate or not; it only
remained for him to submit to the power generally acknowledged, and
at the arrival of one of those changes, at that time of so frequent
occurrence, to yield the same obedience to the newly-established
government.
The interference of Christians in political disputes would only have
served to bring into disrepute the holy religion they professed; it
would have given to philosophers and idolaters a pretext for increasing
the catalogue of black calumnies which they everywhere brought against
the faith. Public report accused Catholicity of being subversive of
governments; Christians would have furnished a pretext for extending
and accrediting this unfounded report, the hatred of governments would
have been redoubled, and the rigors of persecution so cruelly exercised
against the disciples of the cross would have been increased. Has this
state of things ever existed but once, either in ancient or modern
times? And could the conduct of the first Christians in this respect be
made a rule for the Spaniards, for instance, at the time they resisted
the usurpation of Bonaparte? Or could it be imitated by any other
people in similar circumstances? Or will it be received as an argument
in favor of every kind of usurpation? No; man, in becoming a Christian,
does not cease to be a citizen, to be a man, to have his rights, and he
acts in a praiseworthy manner whenever, within the bounds of reason and
justice, he attempts to maintain these rights with fearless intrepidity.
Don Felix Amat, Archbishop of Palmyra, in his posthumous work entitled
_Idea of the Church Militant_, makes use of these words: "Jesus Christ,
by his plain and expressive answer, _Render to Cæsar the things that
are Cæsar's_, has sufficiently established, that the mere fact of a
government's existence is sufficient for enforcing the obedience of
subjects to it." What I have already advanced is enough, in my opinion,
to show the fallacy of such an assertion; and, as I intend to revert to
this subject, and investigate more attentively this author's opinion,
and the reasons upon which he supports it, I shall not now attempt to
enter upon its refutation. I will, nevertheless, make one observation,
which occurred to me on reading the passages in which the Archbishop
of Palmyra developes it. His work was forbidden at Rome; and whatever
may have been the motives for such a prohibition, we may rest assured
that, in the case of a book advocating such doctrines, every man who
is jealous of his rights might acquiesce in the decree of the Sacred
Congregation.
As the opportunity is favorable, we may make a few remarks upon
_consummated facts_, which are so closely connected with the doctrine
under discussion. _Consummated_ implies something perfect in its kind;
hence an act is consummated when it has attained its completion.
This word, applied to crimes, is opposed to mere attempt. We say
an attempt at robbery, murder, or arson, when the undertaking to
commit these crimes has been manifested by some act; for instance,
the lock of a door has been broken, an attack has been made with a
murderous weapon, combustible matter has been ignited--but the crime
is not said to be consummated till the robbery, murder, or arson has
actually been committed. Hence, in a political and social sense, we
designate _consummated facts_ an usurpation, completely overthrowing
the legitimate power, and by means of which the usurper is already
substituted in its place; a measure executed in all its points; such as
the suppression of the regular clergy in Spain, and the confiscation of
their property to the treasury; a revolution which has been triumphant,
and which has entirely disposed of a country, as was the case with our
American possessions.
From this explanation, we see clearly that a fact does not, by being
_consummated_, change its nature; it still remains a simple fact--just
or unjust, legal or illegal--as it was before. The most horrible
outrages may also be termed _consummated facts_; yet, for all that,
they do not cease to deserve disgrace and punishment.
What, then, is the meaning of certain phrases continually uttered by
some men? "We must respect consummated facts; we must always accept
consummated facts; it is folly to resist consummated facts; it is a
wise policy that yields to consummated facts." Far be it from me to
assert that all those who establish these maxims, profess the fatal
doctrines to which they give rise. We often admit principles, the
consequences of which we reject; and point out a certain line of
conduct as right, without attending to the abominable maxims in which
it originates. In human affairs, good and evil, error and truth are
so narrowly separated, and prudence so closely borders on culpable
timidity, that in theory, as well as in practice, it is not always
easy to remain within the bounds prescribed by reason and the eternal
principles of sound morality. If respect for consummated facts is
mentioned, perverse men immediately include in it the sanctioning
of crime, the spoils of plunder secured to the robber, no hope of
restitution left to the victims, and a gag put upon their mouths, to
stifle their complaints. Others, I am aware, have no such design in
making use of these words, but are the dupes of a confusion of ideas,
arising from their not having distinguished between moral principles
and public expediency. On this point, therefore, we must distinguish
and define, which I will do in a few words.
The simple consummation of a fact does not render it legitimate; and,
consequently, it is not on this account alone worthy of respect. The
robber who has stolen does not acquire a right to the thing stolen;
the incendiary who reduces a house to ashes is no less deserving of
punishment, of being forced to make reparation, than if he had been
arrested in the attempt. This is so evident and clear, that it cannot
be called in question. To assert the contrary, is to become the enemy
of all morality, of all justice, of all right; and to proclaim the
exclusive rule of force and cunning. Consummated facts, appertaining
to social and political order, do not change their nature; the
usurper, who seizes upon the crown of his lawful predecessor; the
conqueror, who, by mere force of arms, has subdued a nation, does not
thereby acquire a right to its possession; the government, which by
gross iniquities has despoiled entire classes of citizens, exacted
undue contributions, abolished legitimate rights, cannot justify its
acts by the simple fact of its having sufficient strength to execute
these iniquities. That is equally evident; and if there is here any
difference at all, the crime is only the greater, from the greater
gravity and extent of the wrongs committed, and of the scandal given
to the public. Such are the principles of sound morality--individual
morality, social morality; morality of the whole human race; immutable,
eternal morality.
Let us now examine the question of public expediency. In some
instances, a consummated fact, in spite of all its injustice, all
its immorality and atrocity, acquires such an ascendency, that by
not accepting it, or by being determined to destroy it, we should
let loose a train of troubles and commotions, and perhaps without
effect. Every government is bound to respect justice, and to act in
such a manner that its subjects may also respect it; but it should not
command what will not be obeyed, when it is deprived of the means of
enforcing obedience. In such a case, we should not commit an injustice
by not attacking the illegal interests, or by not endeavoring to
obtain redress for the victims; the government, in such a case, may be
compared to a man who, beholding robbers loaded with the fruit of their
theft, is without the means of forcing them to make restitution. If you
suppose an impossibility, what does it avail to say that the government
is not a single individual, but a defender of all legitimate interests?
No one is bound to impossibilities.
Observe, also, that this remark applies not only to a physical
impossibility, but also to a moral one. Whenever, therefore, the
government possesses the material means of obtaining reparation, a
moral impossibility will be constituted, when the employing of those
means would cause serious difficulties to the state, endanger the
public peace, or sow the seeds of future insurrection. Order and public
interest require the preference, for these are the primary objects of
all government; consequently, that which cannot be accomplished without
endangering them, ought to be considered as impossible. The application
of these doctrines will always be a question of prudence, that cannot
be subjected to any general rule. Depending as it _does_ upon a
thousand circumstances, it cannot be decided upon abstract principles;
but by the consideration of existing facts, duly appreciated and
considered by political tact. Such is the case of the respect due to
consummated facts; the injustice of these facts is apparent; but we
must not overlook their force. Not to attack them is not, necessarily,
to sanction them. The legislator is bound to diminish the evil as far
as possible; but not to risk an aggravation of it by attempting an
impracticable reparation. As it is particularly injurious to society
for great interests to remain insecure, and uncertain for the future,
just means must be adopted, which, without occasioning complicity in
the evil, may prevent the dangers of a doubtful situation, resulting
from injustice itself. A just policy does not sanction injustice; but
a wise policy never despises the importance of established facts. If
such facts exist, and appear indestructible, it tolerates them; but
without affording them the sanction of its participation or approval.
Acting with dignity, it makes the best of difficulties; and in some
sort allies the principles of eternal justice with the views of public
expediency. We have a very striking case in point, which will place
this matter in the clearest possible light. After the great evils,
and the enormous acts of injustice perpetrated during the French
Revolution, what possibility was there of making a complete reparation?
In 1814, could every thing be restored to the position in which it
stood in 1789? The throne overturned, all social distinctions levelled,
and property broken up; who could reconstruct the ancient social
edifice? No one.
Such is the respect to be entertained for consummated facts, which
might be more properly termed _indestructible_ ones. To illustrate
my idea still further, I will give it a very simple exemplification.
A proprietor, driven from his possessions by a powerful neighbor,
has not the means of repossessing himself of them. He has neither
wealth nor influence; and his spoliator abounds in both. If he have
recourse to force, he will be vanquished; if to the tribunal, he will
lose his cause; what, therefore, is he to do? To negotiate for an
accommodation, to obtain what he can, and be resigned to his fate.
This is all that can be said; and it is remarkable, that such are the
principles adopted by governments. History and experience teach us,
that consummated facts are respected when they are indestructible;
that is, when they possess in themselves sufficient force to make them
respected; in any other case, they are not so. And nothing is more
natural. Whatever is not founded upon right, can only be maintained by
force.[32]
CHAPTER LVI.
HOW THE CIVIL POWER MAY BE LAWFULLY RESISTED.
From what has been said in the foregoing chapters it follows, that
it is allowable to resist illegitimate power by force. The Catholic
religion does not enjoin obedience to governments existing merely
_de facto_; for morality does not admit a mere fact, unsupported
by right and justice. However, when power is in itself lawful, but
in its exercise tyrannical, does our religion prohibit, in every
instance, resistance by physical force; so that not to resist at all,
forms a part of her dogmas? Is insurrection never allowable, in any
supposition, for any motive? Although I have already eliminated many
questions, it is necessary to draw here a fresh distinction, in order
to fix exactly the point at which dogma ends, and opinions begin. It is
evident, in the first place, that an individual has no right to kill
a tyrant on his own authority. The Council of Constance, in its 15th
session, condemned the following proposition as heretical: "Any vassal
or subject may and should, lawfully and meritoriously, kill any tyrant.
He may even, for this purpose, avail himself of ambushes, and wily
expressions of affection or adulation; notwithstanding any oath or pact
imposed upon him by the tyrant; and without waiting for the sentence
or order of any judge." "Quilibet tyrannus potest et debet licite et
meritorie occidi per quemcumque vassallum suum vel subditum, etiam
per clanculares insidias, et subtiles blanditias vel adulationes, non
obstante quocumque præstito juramento, seu confœderatione factis cum
eo, non expectata sententia vel mandato judicis cujuscumque."
But does this decision of the Council of Constance constitute a
prohibition of every kind of insurrection? No; it speaks of the murder
of a tyrant by any particular individual; but every case of resistance
is not maintained by a single individual; neither is it the aim of
every insurrection to destroy a tyrant. This doctrine only serves to
prevent murder, and a train of evils which would overwhelm society
if it were established that any individual had a right of his own
authority to kill the supreme ruler. Who will venture to accuse this
doctrine of being favorable to tyranny? The liberty of the people
should not be based upon the horrid right of assassination; the defence
of the rights of society should not be confided to the dagger of a
fanatic. The attributes of public power are so extensive and various,
that their exercise must necessarily and frequently inconvenience some
individuals. Man, inclined to extremes and revenge, easily enlarges
upon the grievances which he suffers; passing from a particular to a
general, he is inclined to look upon those who injure or oppose him as
villains. At the slightest shock which he receives from government,
he cries out that tyranny is insupportable; the act of arbitrary
power, real or imaginary, committed against him, becomes, in his
mouth, one of the many iniquities perpetrated, or the commencement of
those that are to be. Grant, therefore, to the individual the right
of killing a tyrant; proclaim to the people that, to render such an
act lawful and meritorious, there is no need of a sentence, or any
judicial condemnation; and from that time this horrible crime will
become frequent. The wisest, the justest kings will fall victims to
the parricidal dagger, or the poisoned cup. You will have furnished no
guarantee to the liberty of the people, and you will have exposed the
dearest interests of society to dreadful hazards.
The Catholic Church, by this solemn declaration, has conferred an
immense service on humanity. The violent death of him who holds the
supreme power seldom happens without causing bloodshed and great
commotion. It provokes measures of suspicious precaution, easily
converted into tyranny. It follows, then, that any crime instigated
by excessive hatred of tyranny contributes to establish it in a form
still more absolute and cruel. Modern nations should feel grateful
to the Catholic Church for having established this sacred and saving
principle. A person must be possessed of very mean sentiments, or very
ferocious instincts, not to appreciate it, or to regret the bloody
scenes of the Roman Empire and the barbarian monarchy. We have seen,
and we still see, powerful nations delivered up to dreadful troubles,
by the neglect of this Catholic maxim. The history of the last three
centuries, and the experience of this, prove that this august precept
of the Church was given to the people in anticipation of the dangers
which were threatening them. In it we find no flattery for kings;
for they are not the only ones benefited by it; it is a general
proposition, including all others, whatever be their titles, who
exercise supreme authority, whatever be the form of government, from
the Russian autocrat to the most democratical republic.
It is worthy of remark, that modern constitutions, proceeding from the
bosom of revolutions, have universally rendered a solemn homage to this
Catholic maxim; they have declared the person of the monarch _sacred
and inviolable_. What does this mean, but that this person should be
placed under an impenetrable safeguard? You reproach the Catholic
Church with placing a sort of shield before the person of kings, and
yet you yourselves declare that person inviolable. The anointing of
kings you ridicule, and yet you yourself declare that the king is
sacred. Since you are forced to imitate the Church, her dogmas and her
discipline must have contained an eternal truth, and high political
principles; with this difference, however, that you represent as the
work of the will of man what she esteems the work of the will of God.
But if supreme power makes a scandalous abuse of its faculties, if it
outsteps its just bounds, if it tramples under foot fundamental laws,
if it persecutes religion, corrupts morality, outrages public dignity,
attacks the honor of citizens, exacts illegal and disproportionate
contributions, alienates national property, dismembers provinces,
inflicts death and ignominy upon the people: in such cases, does
Catholicity also prescribe obedience? does it forbid resistance? does
it command subjects to remain tranquil, like a lamb in the claws of a
wild beast? May there not exist, either in an individual, or in the
principal bodies, or in the most distinguished classes of society, or
in the entire mass of the nation, somewhere, in fine, the right of
opposing, of resisting, after all means of mildness, representation,
counsel, and entreaty have failed? In such disastrous circumstances,
does the Church leave the people without hope, and tyrants without
restraint?
In such extremities, certain very renowned theologians think that
resistance is allowable; but the dogmas of the Church do not descend
to these details. The Church abstains from condemning the opposite
doctrines. In such extreme circumstances, non-resistance is not a
dogmatical prescription. The Church has never taught such a doctrine;
if any one will maintain that she has, let him bring forward a decision
of a Council or of a Sovereign Pontiff to that effect. St. Thomas of
Aquin, Cardinal Bellarmin, Suarez, and other eminent theologians,
were well versed in the dogmas of the Church; and yet, if you consult
their works, so far from finding this doctrine in them, you will find
the opposite one. Now the Church has not condemned them, she has not
confounded them with those seditious writers in whom Protestantism
abounds, nor with modern revolutionists, who are continually disturbing
social order. Bossuet and other authors of repute differ from St.
Thomas, Bellarmin, Suarez; and this gives credit to the opposite
opinion, but does not convert it into a dogma. Upon certain points of
the highest import, the opinions of the illustrious Bishop of Meaux
suffered contradiction; and we know that upon this case of an excess
of tyranny, the Pope at another period was acknowledged to possess
faculties which Bossuet refuses him.
The Abbé de Lamennais, in his impotent and obstinate resistance to the
Holy see, adduced the doctrines of St. Thomas, and those of some other
theologians, pretending that to condemn his own works was to condemn
schools hitherto held irreproachable. (_Affaires de Rome._) The Abbé
Gerbet, in his excellent refutation of M. de Lamennais, after having
very judiciously remarked, that the Sovereign Pontiff's object in
reproving modern doctrines was, to prevent a renewal of the errors of
Wickliffe, observes, at the epoch of this heresiarch's condemnation,
the doctrines of St. Thomas and of other theologians were well known,
and that, nevertheless, no one believed that they were included in
the condemnation. The excellent author of this refutation deemed
this sufficient to deprive M. de Lamennais of the shield under which
he sought to defend and cover his apostacy; and for this reason, he
abstains from drawing a parallel between the two doctrines. In fact,
this reflection alone is sufficient to convince any judicious man that
the doctrines of St. Thomas bear no resemblance to those of M. de
Lamennais. It may, however, be useful to give in few words a comparison
of the two doctrines. At the present time, and in these matters, it
is very proper to know, not only that these doctrines differ, but
likewise wherein they differ. M. de Lamennais' theory may be stated in
the following terms: A natural equality among men, and, as necessary
consequences, 1. Equality of rights, political rights included; 2. The
injustice of every social and political organization not establishing
this equality completely, as is the case in Europe and in the whole
universe; 3. Expediency and legitimacy of insurrection, to destroy
governments, and change social organization; 4. Abolition of all
government, as the object of the progress of the human race.
The doctrines of St. Thomas on the same points may be thus expressed:
_A natural equality among men_; that is to say, an essential equality,
but exclusive of physical, intellectual, and moral gifts--an equality
among men in the eyes of God--an equality in their destination,
inasmuch as they are all created to enjoy God--an equality of means,
inasmuch as they are all redeemed by Christ, and may all receive His
grace; but exclusive of the inequalities which it may please God to
establish by gifts of grace and glory. 1. _An equality of social and
political rights._ According to the holy doctor, such an equality is
impossible. He rather supports the utility and legitimacy of certain
hierarchies; the respect due to those established by law; the necessity
of there being some to command and others to obey; the obligation of
being subject to the established laws of the country, whatever be the
form of government; the preference for monarchical governments. 2. _The
injustice of every social and political organization not establishing
a complete equality._ St. Thomas looks upon this as an error opposed
to reason and to faith. Nay, more; not only is it true that the
inequality founded upon the very nature of man and of society is an
effect and punishment of original sin, in as far as it entails upon
man injury or inconvenience; but, according to the holy Doctor, this
inequality would have existed among men even in a state of innocence.
3. _Expediency and legitimacy of insurrection, to destroy governments,
and to change the social organization._ An erroneous and fatal opinion.
We ought to submit to legitimate governments; it is expedient even to
tolerate such as make an improper use of their power; we must exhaust
every means of entreaty, of counsel and representation, before we
have recourse to others. We can only appeal to force in the greatest
extremities, on rare occasions, and then only under many restrictions,
as will be seen elsewhere. 4. _Abolition of all government, as the
object of the progress of the human race._ An absurd proposition--a
dream that cannot be realized. The necessity of government in every
society; arguments founded upon the nature of man; analogies from the
human body, from the very order of the universe; the existence of
government even in a state of innocence. Such are the doctrines of De
Lamennais and St. Thomas respectively. Let the reader compare them, and
judge for himself.
It is impossible to adduce the words of the holy Doctor--they would
fill the volume. Should any reader wish to consult them himself, let
him read, in addition to the passages inserted in this work, the whole
treatise, _De Regimine Principum_, the commentaries on the Epistle
to the Romans, and those passages of the _Summa_ in which the holy
Doctor treats of the soul, of the creation of man, of the state of
innocence, of the angels and of their hierarchy, of original sin and
its effects, and, above all, his valuable Treatise on Laws and that on
Justice, in which he discusses the origin of the right of property and
of inflicting punishments. After that he will be convinced of the truth
of what I have just advanced; he will then see the injustice of M. de
Lamennais in attempting to make the illustrious writers and saints
venerated on our altars the accomplices of his apostacy. In grave and
delicate matters confusion produces error, the enemies of truth are
interested in spreading darkness, in establishing general and vague
propositions susceptible of various interpretations. They seek with
anxiety a text favorable to some one of the numerous interpretations
that are possible, and proudly exclaim, "How unjust it is in you to
condemn us; what we maintain was asserted centuries ago, by the most
respected and celebrated writers." The Abbé de Lamennais must have
reckoned in a singular manner upon the credulity of his readers, to
think of making them believe that there was no honest man to be found
at Rome capable of informing the Pope, that in condemning the doctrines
of the apostle of revolution, he was condemning also those of the angel
of the schools, and other distinguished theologians. It is possible
that M. de Lamennais never read the authors except in haste and in
fragments, but many persons at Rome have spent their lives in studying
them.
We are not ignorant of the violent declamations of Luther, Zwinglius,
Knox, Jurieu, and other leaders of Protestantism, to stir up the
people to revolt against princes; we are not ignorant of the gross
and violent invectives made use of by these sectaries to excite the
multitude. Catholics look upon such extravagances with horror. In like
manner, they look with dread upon the anarchical doctrine of Rousseau,
establishing that "the clauses of the _social contract_ are so
determined by the very nature of the act, that the _least modification_
of them would render them _vain and null_; so that every one then
resumes his former rights and regains his natural liberty". (_Contrat
Social_, l. i. c. 6.) The doctrine of the theologians above cited does
not contain this fruitful germ of insurrection and disaster; but, on
the other hand, they are not found timid and pusillanimous in the last
extremities. They preach up resignation, patience, and longanimity; but
there is a point at which they stop and exclaim, _Enough_. If they do
not advocate insurrection, they do not prohibit it; it would be in vain
to require them to teach as a dogmatical truth the obligation of not
resisting in extreme cases. They cannot teach the people to consider
as a dogma what they do not acknowledge as such. It is not their fault
if the tempest bursts, if the roaring waves arise; no other hand can
control them than that of God, who rides upon the north wind and sports
with the tempest.
For many centuries there has been inculcated in Europe a doctrine much
criticised by those who do not understand it, the intervention of the
Pontifical authority between the people and their sovereigns. This
doctrine was nothing less than Heaven descending as an arbiter and
judge, to put an end to the disputes of the earth.
The temporal power of the Popes has served as a wonderful theme to
the enemies of the Church to create alarm, and declaim against Rome;
but this power is no less an historical fact and a social phenomenon,
which has filled with admiration the most renowned men of modern
times, including some Protestants. The Scriptures make it a duty
for slaves to obey their masters, even when they are oppressive and
unjust. All that can be inferred from this is, that a prince, by the
simple fact of his being wicked, does not lose his authority over his
subjects, which condemns beforehand the errors of those who make the
right of commanding dependent upon the sanctity of its possessor. Such
a principle is anarchical, and incompatible with the existence of
every society. When it is once established, power remains unsafe and
tottering; every disturber declares all those divested of authority
whom he may deem culpable. But our question is of a different nature,
and the opinion of theologians cited by us has nothing to do with this
error. These theologians also on their part advocate obedience to
rulers, even though they be oppressive and unjust; they also condemn
insurrection, when founded on no other pretext than the vices of
persons exercising supreme power; they do not admit that any abuse of
power justifies resistance; but they do not consider that they impugn
the sacred text by admitting that in extreme cases it is allowable to
place a barrier against the excesses of a tyrant. "If governments do
not lose their power by the simple fact of their being wicked, how,"
it will be said, "can we conceive resistance to them lawful?" This is
certainly not allowable, so long as they do not outstep the bounds of
their faculties; but when they do so, their commands, as St. Thomas
says, are rather acts of violence than laws. "No one has the right of
judging the supreme power." This is true; but above this power exist
the principles of reason, morality, religion. Power, although supreme,
is bound to the execution of its promises, to keep its oaths. Society
is not formed upon the model of Rousseau's ideal _contract_; but there
exist, in certain cases, real pacts between the rulers and the people,
to which both are bound to adhere.
In the celebrated _Catholic Proclamation to his pious Majesty Philip
the Great, King of Spain and Emperor of the Indies by the Counsellors
and the Council of One Hundred of the city of Barcelona_, in 1640, an
epoch so profoundly religious that the Counsellors quote, as a high
title of glory, _the zeal of the Catalonians for the Catholic faith,
the devotion of the Catalonians to our lady the Blessed Virgin and the
most holy Sacrament_;--at that time, which pride and ignorance have
so often taxed with fanaticism, these counsellors said to the king,
"Besides civil obligation, the customs, constitutions, and acts of the
court of Catalonia are binding on conscience, and to violate them would
be a mortal sin; for the prince has no right to annul a contract; it
is made freely, but cannot be revoked without injustice. If a contract
is not subject to the civil law, it is subject to the law of reason;
and although the prince may be the master of the laws, the contracts he
makes with his vassals are inviolable, for in making them he is a mere
individual, and the vassal acquires a right equal to his. A contract,
in fine, should be made between equals. Hence, as the vassal cannot be
unfaithful to his lord, the latter, in like manner, is bound to keep
the promise he has made by solemn engagement; and indeed, the rupture
of a pact ought least of all to be expected on the part of a prince.
If the word of a king is law, that word given in a solemn contract is
still more binding." (_Catholic Proclamation_, sect. 27.) The courtiers
urged the monarch to measures of coercion to reduce the Catalonians to
submission; the Castilian army was preparing to enter the principality.
In this extremity, after exhausting all means of representation and
entreaty, the counsellors thus expressed themselves: "Finally, men who
have vowed an inveterate hatred against the Catalonians have been so
successful in their continual persuasions, that the uprightness and
equity of your majesty have been turned from the means of peace and
tranquillity proposed by us, and which should have been admitted, were
it only on the grounds of experience; and to fill up the cup of their
malice, they now lay your majesty under an obligation of oppressing
the principality still further, by sending an army to sack and pillage
wherever the caprice of the soldier may lead him; which would place
this country in a position to say (were it not for the love it has
borne, still bears, and ever will bear to your majesty) that such
a breach of sworn faith would leave it free, a thing of which the
province is unwilling to think, and prays God to avert. Nevertheless,
the principality knows from experience that these soldiers have neither
respect nor pity for any thing or person, married women and innocent
virgins, temples, or God Himself, images of the Saints or the sacred
vessels of our churches, nay, even the blessed Sacrament has twice this
year been committed to the flames by these soldiers. _The principality
is, therefore, everywhere in arms to defend, in such an urgent and
irremediable extremity, fortune, life, honor, liberty, home, laws, and
above all the sacred temples, the sacred images, and the holy Sacrament
of the altar (be the same for ever praised). In such a case, the holy
theologians do not merely affirm that resistance is lawful, but still
further, that all persons, whether lay or clerical, may take up arms to
avert the evil; that both secular and ecclesiastical property may and
ought to contribute to the defence; that the nations invaded may, as
the cause is universal, unite, confederate, and form juntas with a view
to prevent such evils._" (§36)
Such was the language addressed to kings, at a time when religion
predominated over all things. The counsellors, according to the usage
of the time, took care to make marginal notes of the sources of their
information; and we are not aware that their doctrines have ever been
condemned as heretical. These doctrines cannot, without manifest
dishonesty, be confounded with those of many Protestants and modern
revolutionists. A cursory perusal of these writings will enable any
one to discover how widely they differ. By maintaining that it is
not allowable in any case, in the greatest extremities, not even
when the most precious and sacred interests are at stake, to offer
resistance to the civil power, the thrones of kings are thought to be
strengthened; for it is generally kings that are spoken of. But it
should be remembered, that this doctrine affects every other supreme
power, under every form of government. Since the texts of Scripture
recommending obedience "to the powers that be," do not allude to kings
only, but to all supreme powers, without exception or distinction, it
follows that resistance cannot in any case be offered to the president
of a republic. Will it be said that the faculties of a president are
determined? Are not the faculties of a king also determined? Are
there not, in absolute governments, laws fixing the limits of these
faculties? And is not this the distinction constantly employed by
the supporters of monarchy to repel the errors of their adversaries,
who confound monarchy with despotism? "But," it will be said, "the
president of a republic is only temporary." And what if he were
perpetual? Besides, the faculties are neither increased nor diminished
by the simple fact of their having to last a long or short period. If a
council, a man, a family, is invested with a certain right, by virtue
of a certain law; with certain restrictions, but with certain contracts
and oaths; such a council, such a man or such a family is bound to
adhere to the oath taken, whatever be the extent of its duration,
temporary or perpetual. Such are the principles of natural right; so
certain and simple, that they cannot present any difficulty.
Theologians, even those most attached to the Sovereign Pontiff, teach a
doctrine which we must notice here, on account of the analogy it bears
to the point under discussion. It is known that the Pope, when speaking
_ex cathedra_, is acknowledged to be infallible, but not as a simple
individual; and that, in this latter capacity, he might fall into
heresy. In this case, theologians are of opinion that he would forfeit
his dignity; some maintaining that he ought to be deposed, others that
his deposition is the consequence of his having fallen from the faith.
Whichever of these opinions be admitted, in this case resistance would
become allowable, for this reason, that the Pope would have shamefully
departed from the object of his institution, would have trampled on
the basis of the laws of the Church, which is her dogmas, and would
consequently have nullified the promises and oaths of obedience made to
him. Spedalieri, in adducing this argument, observes, that kings are
certainly not of higher rank than Popes,--that power has been granted
to both _in ædificationem non in destructionem_; adding, that if
Sovereign Pontiffs authorize this doctrine with relation to themselves,
temporal sovereigns cannot object to its application to them.
It is strange that the monarchical zeal of Protestants and incredulous
philosophers imputes to the Catholic religion as a crime, that she has
allowed it to be maintained within her bosom, that, in certain cases,
the subject may be released from his oath of allegiance; whilst other
philosophers of the same school reproach it with having sanctioned
despotism by its _detestable doctrine of non-resistance_, as Dr. Beatty
expresses it. _The direct, indirect, and declaratory powers of the
Popes_ have served as an admirable bugbear to intimidate kings; the
dangerous principles of theological works formed an excellent pretext
for raising the cry of alarm, for representing Catholicity as a nest of
seditious maxims. The hour of revolutions was struck,--circumstances
were changed,--fresh necessities arose, and men adapted their language
to the times. The Catholics, a short time before seditious and
regicidal, were then declared abettors of despotism, fulsome adulators
of civil power. Recently, the Jesuits, leagued with the infernal
policy of Rome, were everywhere undermining thrones, to establish on
their ruins the universal monarchy of the Pope; but the secret of this
horrid plot was discovered, and fortunately so, for the world was
otherwise about to experience a frightful catastrophe. But now that
the Jesuits are expelled, and are expiating their crimes in exile, the
French Revolution, the prelude to so many others, breaks out, and the
aspect of affairs changes immediately. Protestants and unbelievers, the
_supporters of ancient discipline_, _the zealous adversaries of the
abuses of the Court of Rome_, fully comprehending the new situation
of affairs, hasten to conform to it. From that moment, the Jesuits,
the Catholics, the Pope, are no longer seditious or tyrannicides, but
Machiavellian supporters of tyranny, enemies of the liberty of the
people; and just as a league had been supposed to exist between the
Jesuits and the Pope for the foundation of a universal theocracy,
there is now discovered, thanks to the investigations of these eminent
philosophers and _strict, incorruptible Christians_, _an infamous
pact between the Pope and kings_ to oppress, enslave, and degrade the
unfortunate human race.
The answer to this enigma may be thus briefly expressed. So long as
kings maintain their power and the peaceable possession of their
thrones, so long as Providence restrains the tempest, and the monarch,
raising his proud head towards heaven, commands the people with a lofty
air, the Catholic Church does not flatter him. "Thou art dust," she
says to him, "and into dust thou shalt return; power was given thee
not unto destruction, but unto edification; thy faculties are great,
but not boundless. God is thy judge, as well as that of the lowest of
thy subjects." The Church is then accused of insolence; and if any
theologian should venture to investigate the origin of civil power,
to point out, with generous freedom, the duties to which this power
is subject; to write, in a word, with prudence upon public right, but
without servility, the Catholics are then declared seditious. But the
tempest bursts, thrones are overturned, revolution prevails, spills the
blood of the people in torrents, cuts off royal heads, and all in the
name of liberty. The Church says: "This is no liberty, but a succession
of crimes; the fraternity and equality which I have taught, were never
your orgies and guillotines." The Church then becomes a vile flatterer;
her words, her actions, have indubitably revealed that the Sovereign
Pontiff is the surest anchor of despotism; it has been proved that the
Court of Rome has been polluted by an infamous pact.[33]
CHAPTER LVII.
POLITICAL SOCIETY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
We have already seen what has been the conduct of the Christian
religion with respect to society; that is to say, that not caring
whether such or such political forms were established in a country,
she has ever addressed herself to man, seeking to enlighten his
understanding and to purify his heart, fully confident that when these
objects were attained, society would naturally pursue a safe course.
This is sufficient to obliterate the reproach imputed to her of being
an enemy to the liberty of the people.
Protestantism has certainly never revealed to the world a single
dogma which exalts the dignity of man, nor created fresh motives
of consideration and respect, or closer bonds of fraternity. The
Reformation cannot, therefore, boast of having given the least impetus
to the progress of modern nations; it cannot, consequently, lay the
least claim to the gratitude of the people in this respect. But as
it frequently happens that people lay aside main points and set a
great value on appearances; and as Protestantism has been supposed
to accord much better than Catholicity with those institutions in
which it is usual to find guarantees for a high degree of liberty; we
must draw a parallel. Besides, we cannot omit it without betraying an
ignorance of the genius of this age, and authorizing the suspicion that
Catholicity cannot derive any advantage from such a comparison. In the
first place, I will observe, that those who look upon Protestantism as
inseparable from public liberty do not in this respect agree with M.
Guizot, who cannot certainly be accused of any want of sympathy for the
Reformation. "In Germany," says this celebrated publicist, "far from
demanding political liberty, it has accepted, I should not like to say
political servitude, _but the absence of liberty_." (_Hist. Gén. de la
Civil. en Eur._ leç. 12.)
I quote M. Guizot, because in Spain we are so accustomed to
translations, because we Spaniards have been led to suppose, that
the best thing for us is to believe foreigners on their bare word;
because amongst us, in questions of importance, it is necessary to
have recourse to foreign authorities; and hence, a writer who appears
to slight such authorities, exposes himself to the risk of being
treated as an ignoramus, as one behind the age. Besides, with a certain
class of writers, the authority of M. Guizot is decisive. In fact, a
multitude of publications have appeared amongst us bearing the title
of "Philosophy of History," whose authors, it is quite clear, have
used the works of that French writer as their text-books. Is this
assertion, that Protestantism is the natural bulwark of liberty, true
or false, accurate or inaccurate? What do history and philosophy teach
us on this point? Has Protestantism advanced the popular cause, by
contributing to the establishment and development of liberal forms of
government? To place the question in its true light, and discuss it
thoroughly, we must take a view of the state of Europe at the close
of the fifteenth century, and at the beginning of the sixteenth. It
is incontestable that individuals and society were then making rapid
progress towards perfection. We have sufficient evidence of this fact
in the wonderful march of intellect at this period, in the numerous
measures of improvement effected at that epoch, and in the better
organization everywhere introduced. This organization is doubtless
still imperfect; but it is nevertheless such as cannot be likened
to that of former times. If we carefully examine into the state of
society at that epoch, as represented either in the writings or in the
events of the time, we shall observe a certain restlessness, anxiety,
and fermentation, which, while they indicated the existence of vast
wants not yet satisfied, were evidence also of a tolerably distinct
knowledge of those wants. Far from discovering in the men of that
period a contempt or forgetfulness of their rights and dignity, or any
discouragement and pusillanimity at the sight of obstacles, we find
them abounding in foresight and ingenuity, swayed by lofty and sublime
thoughts, fired with noble sentiments, and animated with intrepid and
ardent courage. The progress of European society at that epoch was very
rapid; three very remarkable circumstances contributed to render it so:
1. The introduction of the whole body of men to the rank of citizens,
as a necessary consequence of the abolition of slavery and the decline
of feudality; 2. The very nature of civilization, in which every thing
advances together and abreast; 3. In fine, the existence of a means
for increasing its development and rapidity--this means was the art of
printing. To make use of a physico-mathematical expression, we may say,
that the amount of motion must have been very considerable, since it
was the product of the mass by the rapidity, and that the mass, as well
as the rapidity, were then very considerable.
This powerful movement, which proceeds from good, is in itself good,
and is productive of good, is, however, accompanied by inconveniences
and perils; it raises flattering hopes, but it also inspires
apprehensions and fears. The people of Europe are an ancient people,
but they may be said to have become young again; their inclinations,
their wants, urge them to great enterprises; and they enter upon them
with the ardor of an impetuous and inexperienced young man, feeling in
his breast a great heart, and in his head the lively spark of genius.
In this situation, a great problem presents itself for solution, viz.,
to find the most proper means for directing society without impeding
its progress; and for conducting it by a way free from precipices
to the objects of its aim, _intelligence_, _morality_, _felicity_.
A slight glance at this problem startles us at its immense extent;
so numerous are the objects it embraces, the relations it bears, the
obstacles and difficulties with which it is beset. Considering this
question attentively, and comparing it with man's weakness, the mind is
ready to lose courage and despond. The problem, however, exists, not as
a scientific speculation, but as a real and urgent necessity. In such
a case, society is like individuals; it attempts, essays, and makes
efforts to get clear of the difficulty as well as possible.
Man's civil state improves daily; but to maintain this improvement, and
to perfect it, requires a means: and this is the problem of _political
forms_. What ought these forms to be? And, above all, what elements can
we make use of? What is the respective force of these elements? What
are their tendencies, their relations, their affinities? How shall they
be combined? _Monarchy_, _Aristocracy_, _Democracy_--these three powers
present themselves at the same time to dispute for the direction and
government of society. They are certainly not equal, either in force,
means of action, or in practical intelligence; but they all command
our respect, they have all pretensions to a preponderance more or less
decisive, and none of them are without the probability of obtaining it.
This simultaneous concurrence of pretensions, this rivalship of three
powers so different in their nature and aim, forms one of the leading
features of this epoch. It is, as it were, in a great measure the key
to the principal events; and, in spite of the various aspects presented
by this feature, it may be signalized as a general fact among all the
civilized portion of the nations of Europe.
Before proceeding further in our examination of this subject, the mere
indication of such a fact suggests the reflection, that it must be very
incorrect to say that Catholicity has tendencies opposed to the true
liberty of the people; for we see that European civilization, which,
during so many ages, was under the influence and guardianship of this
religion, did not then present one single principle of government
exclusively predominating. Survey the whole of Europe at this period,
and you will not find one country in which the same fact did not
exist. In Spain, France, England, Germany, under the names of Cortes,
States-General, Parliaments, or Diets; the same thing everywhere, with
the simple modifications which necessarily result from circumstances
adapted to each people. What is very remarkable in this case is, that
if there be a single exception, it is in favor of liberty; and, strange
to say, it exists precisely in Italy, where the influence of the Popes
is immediately felt. The names of the Republics of Genoa, Pisa, Sienna,
Florence, Venice, are familiar to all. It is well known that Italy is
the country in which popular forms at that period gained most ground,
and in which they were put in practice, whilst in other countries they
had already abandoned the field. I do not mean to say that the Italian
Republics were a model worthy of being imitated by the other nations of
Europe. I am well aware that these forms of government were attended
with grave inconveniences; but since so much is said of _spirit_ and
_tendencies_, since the Catholic Church is reproached with her affinity
to despotism, and the Popes with a _taste_ for oppression, it is well
to adduce those facts which may serve to throw some doubt upon certain
authoritative assertions, adduced as so many philosophico-historical
dogmas. If Italy preserved her independence in spite of the efforts of
the Emperors of Germany to wrest it from her, she owed it in a great
part to the firmness and energy of the Popes.
In order to comprehend fully the relations which Catholicity bears to
political institutions, in order to ascertain what degree of affinity
it bears to such and such forms, and to form a correct idea of the
influence of Protestantism in this respect over European civilization,
we must examine carefully and in detail each of the elements claiming
preponderance. When we examine them afterwards in their relations with
each other, we will ascertain, as far as possible, where the truth lies
in this shapeless mass. Every one of these three may be considered in
two ways: 1. According to the ideas formed of them at the period we are
speaking of; 2. According to the interests these elements represent,
and the part they play in society. We must lay particular stress upon
this distinction, without which we should expose ourselves to the
commission of serious errors. In fact, the ideas which were entertained
upon such or such principles of government did not coincide with the
interest represented by this same element, and with the part it acted
in society; and although it is clear that these two things must have
had very close relations with each other, and could not be disengaged
from a real and reciprocal influence, yet it is most certain that they
differ considerably, and that this difference, the source of very
various considerations, shows the subject in points of view quite
dissimilar.
CHAPTER LVIII.
MONARCHY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The idea of monarchy has ever existed in the bosom of European society,
even at the time when the least use was made of it; and it is worthy
of remark, that at the time when its energy was taken away, and it
was destroyed in practice, it still retained its force in theory. We
cannot say that our ancestors had any very fixed notions upon the
nature of the object represented by this idea; nor can we wonder
at it, since the continual variations and modifications which they
witnessed must have prevented them from forming any very correct
knowledge of it. Nevertheless, if we peruse the codes in places where
monarchy is treated of, and if we consult the writings which have been
preserved upon this matter, we shall find that their ideas on this
point were more fixed than might have been imagined. By studying the
manner of thinking of this period, we find that men in general were
almost destitute of analytical knowledge, being more erudite than
philosophical; so much so, that they scarcely ventured to express
an idea without supporting it by a multitude of authorities. This
taste for erudition, which is visible at the first glance into their
writings--a mere tissue of quotations--and which must have been very
natural, since it was so general and lasting, had very advantageous
results; not the least of which was the uniting of ancient with
modern society, by the preservation of a great number of records and
memorials, which, had it not been for this public taste, must have been
destroyed, and by exhuming from the dust the remains of antiquity about
to perish. But, on the other hand, it produced many evils; amongst
others, a sort of stifling of thought, which could no longer indulge in
its own inspirations, although they may have been more happy than the
ancient ones on some points.
However it may be, such is the fact: on examining it in relation to the
matter under discussion, we find that monarchy was represented at that
time as one single picture, in which there appeared at the same time
the kings of the Jews and the Roman emperors, whose features had been
corrected by the hand of Christianity. That is to say, the principles
of monarchy were composed of the teachings of Scripture and the Roman
codes. Seek every where the idea of emperor, king, or prince, you
will always find the same thing, whether you look for the origin of
power, its extent, its exercise, or its object. But what ideas were
entertained of monarchy? What was the acceptation of this word? Taken
in a general sense, abstractedly from the various modifications which
a variety of circumstances gave to its signification, it meant, _the
supreme command over society, vested in the hands of one man, who was
to exercise it according to reason and justice_. This was the leading
idea, the only one fixed, as a sort of pole, round which all other
questions revolved. Did the monarch possess in himself the faculty
of making laws without consulting general assemblies, which, under
different names, represented the different classes of the kingdom? From
the moment that we propose this question we come upon new ground. We
have descended from theory to practice; we have brought our ideas into
contact with the object to which they are to be applied. From that
moment, we must allow, every thing vacillates and becomes obscure; a
thousand incoherent, strange, and contradictory facts pass before our
eyes; the parchments upon which are inscribed the rights, liberties,
and laws of the people give rise to a variety of interpretations, which
multiply doubts and increase difficulties. We see, in the first place,
that the relations of the monarch with the subject, or, more properly
speaking, the mode in which government should be exercised, was not
very well defined. The confusion from which society was emerging was
still felt, and was inevitable in an aggregation of heterogeneous
bodies, in a combination of rival and hostile elements; that is, we
discover an embryo, and consequently it is impossible as yet to find
regular and well-defined forms.
Did this idea of monarchy contain any thing of despotism, any thing
that subjected one man to the dominion of another by setting aside the
eternal laws of reason and justice? No; from the moment that we touch
upon this point we discover a new horizon, clear and transparent, upon
which objects present themselves distinctly, without a shade of dimness
or obscurity. The answer of all writers is decisive: Rule ought to be
conformable to reason and justice; if it is not, it is mere tyranny.
So that the principle maintained by M. Guizot, in his _Discours sur la
Democratie moderne_, and in his _History of Civilisation in Europe_,
viz. that the will alone does not constitute a right; that laws, to
be laws, should accord with those of eternal reason, the only source
of all legitimate power;--that this principle, I say, which we might
imagine to be newly applied to society, is as ancient as the world.
Acknowledged by ancient philosophers, developed, inculcated, and
applied by Christianity, we find it in every page of jurists and
theologians.
But we know what this principle was worth in the monarchies of
antiquity, and also in our own days in countries where Christianity has
not yet been established. Who, in such countries, presumes continually
to remind kings of their obligation to be just? Observe, on the
contrary, what is the case among Christians: the words 'reason' and
'justice' are constantly in the mouth of the subject, because he knows
that no one has a right to treat him unreasonably or unjustly; and this
he knows, because Christianity has impressed him with a profound idea
of his own dignity, because it has accustomed him to look upon reason
and justice, not as vain words, but as eternal characters engraven on
the heart of man by the hand of God, perpetually reminding man that,
although he is a frail creature, subject to error and to weakness,
he is, nevertheless, stamped with the image of eternal truth and of
immutable justice. If any one should question the truth of what I
have advanced, it will suffice, to convince him, to remind him of the
numerous texts previously cited in this work, and in which the most
eminent Catholic writers bear testimony to their manner of thinking on
the origin and faculties of civil power.
So much for ideas; as for facts, they vary according to times and
countries. During the incursions of the barbarians, and so long as the
feudal system prevailed, monarchy remained much beneath its typical
idea; but during the course of the sixteenth century, matters assumed
a different aspect. In Germany, France, England, and Spain, powerful
monarchs were reigning, who filled the world with the fame of their
names; in their presence aristocracy and democracy bowed with humility;
or if by chance they ventured to raise their heads, it was only to
suffer still greater degradation. The throne, it is true, had not yet
attained that ascendency of power and importance which it acquired in
the following century; but its destiny was irrevocably fixed--power
and glory awaited it. Aristocracy and democracy might have labored to
take part in future events; but it would have been labor in vain for
them to attempt to appropriate them. A fixed and powerful centre was
essential to European society, and monarchy completely satisfied this
imperative necessity. The people understood and felt it; hence we find
them eagerly grasping at this saving principle, and placing themselves
under the safeguard of the throne.
The question is not, therefore, whether or not the throne ought to
exist, or whether it ought to preponderate over aristocracy and
democracy: these two questions have been already resolved. At the
commencement of the sixteenth century, its existence and preponderance
were already necessary. The question to be resolved is, whether the
throne ought so decisively to have prevailed, that the two elements,
aristocracy and democracy, should be erased from the political world;
whether the combination which had hitherto existed was still to exist:
or, whether these two elements should disappear; whether monarchical
power should be absolute. The Church resisted royal power when it
attempted to lay hands upon sacred things; but her zeal never carried
her so far as to depreciate, in the eyes of the people, an authority
which was so essential to them. On the contrary, besides continually
giving to the power of kings a more solid basis, by her doctrines
favorable to all legitimate authority, she endeavored to give them
a still more sacred character by the august ceremonies displayed at
their coronations. The Church has been sometimes accused of anarchical
tendencies, for having energetically struggled against the pretensions
of sovereigns; by some, on the contrary, she has been reproached with
favoring despotism, because she preached up to the people the duty
of obedience to the _lawful_ authorities. If I mistake not, these
accusations, so opposite to each other, prove that the Church has
neither been adulatory nor anarchical; she has maintained the balance
even, by telling the truth both to kings and their subjects.
Let the spirit of sectarianism seek, on all sides, historical facts,
to prove that the Popes have attempted to destroy civil monarchy by
confiscating it to their own profit. But let us bear in mind what the
Protestant Müller says, that the Father of the faithful was, during the
barbarous ages, a tutor sent by God to the European nations; and let
us not be astonished to find that differences have sometimes occurred
between him and his pupils. To discover the intention which dictated
these reproaches against the Court of Rome, relative to monarchy, we
need only reflect upon the following question. All writers consider as
a great benefit the creation of a strong central authority, and yet
circumscribed within just limits that it may not abuse its power; they
laud to the skies every thing tending, directly or indirectly, among
all the nations of Europe, to establish such an authority. Why, then,
when speaking of the conduct of Popes, do they attribute to a pretended
taste for despotism the support which they give to royal authority,
whilst they qualify with anarchical usurpation their efforts to
restrain, upon certain points, the faculties of sovereigns? The answer
is not difficult.[34]
CHAPTER LIX.
THE ARISTOCRACY OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
The aristocracy, as including the privileged portion of society,
comprehended two classes very distinct in their origin and nature,
the nobility and the clergy. Both abounded in power and riches; both
were placed far above the people, and were important wheels in the
political machine. There was, however, this remarkable difference
between them, that the principal basis of the power and grandeur of
the Clergy was religious ideas--ideas which circulated throughout
society, which animated it, gave it life, and consequently insured
for a long time the preponderance of the ecclesiastical power; whilst
the grandeur and influence of the nobles rested solely upon a fact
necessarily transient, viz. the social organization of the epoch--an
organization which was becoming rapidly modified, since the people were
then struggling to liberate themselves from the bonds of feudalism. I
do not mean, that the nobles did not possess legitimate rights to the
power and influence which they exercised; but merely that the principal
portion of these rights, even supposing them founded upon the most just
laws and titles, was not necessarily connected with any of the great
conservative principles of society--those principles which invest with
an immense force and ascendency the person or class which in any way
represents them. But we touch here upon a subject little investigated,
and upon the explanation of which depends the comprehension of great
social facts. It is well, therefore, to develop it fully, and to
examine it attentively.
Of what was monarchy the representative? Of a principle eminently
conservative of society--a principle which has withstood all the
attacks of theories and revolutions, and to which have been attached,
as the only anchor of safety, those very nations in the bosom of which
democratical ideas were diffused, and in which liberal institutions
originated. This is one of the causes why monarchy, even in its most
calamitous times, triumphed over its disasters. Feudal pride, and the
unsettled state of the times, with the agitation of rising democracy,
united to oppress it; scarcely was its power distinguishable amid
the troubled waves of society, like the broken mast of a shipwrecked
vessel. But, even at this time, we find the ideas of force and power
bound to those of monarchy. Regal dignity was trampled under foot and
outraged in various ways, but still held sacred and recognised as
inviolable. Theory was not in accordance with practice; the idea was
more forcible than the fact which it expressed: but we need not be
astonished at this phenomenon, since such is always the character of
ideas producing great changes. They are, at first, merely visible in
society; they spread, take root, and penetrate into all institutions;
time continues to prepare the way; and if the idea is just and moral,
if it point to the satisfaction of a want, the moment at length comes
in which facts give way, the idea triumphs, and bends and humbles
all before it. This was the case, in the sixteenth century, with
regard to monarchy; under one form or another, with greater or less
modifications, it was actually essential to the people, as it is still;
and for this reason it naturally prevailed over all its adversaries,
and survived all accidents.
With respect to the clergy, we need not attempt to show that they were
the representatives of the religious principle--a real social necessity
for all the nations of the earth, when taken in its general sense; and
a real social necessity for the nations of Europe, when taken in its
Christian sense.
We have already seen that the nobility could not be compared either
to monarchy or to the clergy, since they were destitute of the high
principles represented by each of these bodies. Extensive privileges,
and the ancient possession of great estates, with the guarantee of the
laws and customs of the time; glorious traditions of military feats,
pompous names, titles, and escutcheons of illustrious ancestors; such
were the insignia of the lay aristocracy. But nothing of all this had
any direct and essential relation with the great wants of society.
The nobility depended upon a particular organization, necessarily
transient; they were too nearly allied to a law purely positive and
human, to be able to reckon upon a long duration, or to flatter
themselves with success in all their pretensions and exigencies. It
will be objected, perhaps, that the existence of an intermediate
class between the monarch and the people is an essential necessity,
acknowledged by all publicists, and founded upon the very nature of
things. In fact, we have seen that in nations from which the ancient
aristocracy has disappeared, a new one has been formed, either by the
course of events or by the action of governments. But this objection
is not applicable to the question in the point of view under which I
consider it. I do not deny the necessity of an intermediate class;
I merely affirm that the ancient nobility, such as it was, did not
contain elements to ensure its duration, since it was liable to be
replaced by another, as it has been in effect. The classes of the
laity acquire their political and social importance from a superiority
of intellect and force; this superiority no longer existing in the
nobility, its fall was inevitable. At the beginning of the sixteenth
century the throne and the people daily acquired a greater ascendency;
the former became the centre of all social forces, and the people were
constantly enriching themselves by industry and commerce. With regard
to learning, the discovery of printing, as it became general, prevented
it from being henceforth the exclusive patrimony of any particular
class.
It was evident, therefore, that the nobility perceived, at this
epoch, their ancient power escaping, and possessed no other means of
preserving a part of it than to struggle to preserve the titles which
it had given them. Unfortunately for them, their wealth was daily
decreasing, not only from the dilapidations occasioned by luxury,
but also from the extraordinary increase of non-territorial riches;
the profound changes wrought in the value of every thing by means of
the reorganization of society and the discovery of America caused
immovable property to lose much of its importance. If the force of
landed property was gradually diminishing, the rights of jurisdiction
were marching still more rapidly towards their ruin. On one hand,
these rights were opposed by the power of kings; and, on the other, by
municipalities and other centres of action possessed by the popular
element; so that, in spite of the most profound respect for acquired
rights, and merely by allowing things to take their ordinary course,
the ancient nobility was inevitably sunk to that point of depression in
which it now exists. This could not happen to the clergy. Despoiled of
their wealth, entirely or partially deprived of their privileges, there
still remained for them the ministry of religion. No one could exercise
this ministry without them; which was sufficient to insure them great
influence in spite of all commotions and changes.
CHAPTER LX.
ON DEMOCRACY.
Such was the situation of Europe during the centuries preceding
the sixteenth, that it appears difficult to find for democracy a
well-defined place in political theories. Stifled by the established
powers, deprived as yet of the resources which, in time, gave it
the ascendency, it was natural it should be almost unobserved by
politicians. It was in reality very feeble; and it was not, therefore,
surprising that, owing to the influence of reality over ideas,
theorists should regard the people merely as an abject portion of
society, unworthy of honors or happiness, and fit only to labor and
to serve. It is, however, worthy of remark, that ideas from that time
took a new direction; it may even be affirmed that they were infinitely
more elevated and more generous than facts. This is one of the most
convincing proofs of the intellectual development that Christianity
had operated amongst men--one of the most unexceptionable testimonies
in favor of that profound sentiment of reason and justice which it
had deposited in the heart of society. Now these elements were not to
be stifled by events the most unfavorable, nor by the rudest shocks;
for they were supported upon the very dogmas of religion, which still
remain firm, in spite of all commotion, as an immovable axis remains
fixed in the midst of broken machinery.
In perusing the writings of this epoch, we find established, as an
indubitable fact, the right of the people to the administration of
justice; they were not to be irritated by any vexatious regulations;
the public imposts were to be equally divided; no one was to be forced
to do any thing contrary to reason or the well-being of society:
that is to say, these writers acknowledged and established all those
principles upon which were to be based the laws and customs destined
one day to produce civil liberty. This is so true, that, in proportion
as circumstances permitted, these principles were rapidly and
extensively developed; vast and numerous applications were immediately
made of them; and civil liberty took such deep root among the people
of modern Europe, that it has never been erased from their bosoms; and
we see it preserved in forms of absolute government as well as in the
mixed forms.
To complete my demonstration, that the ideas in favor of the people
proceeded from Christianity, I will adduce a reason which appears to me
decisive. The philosophy adopted by the schools of that period was that
of Aristotle. Aristotle's authority was of great weight; he was called
by an autonomasia, _the Philosopher_; a good commentary of his works
was considered the highest point to be attained in these matters. And
yet, so far as the relations of society were concerned, the doctrines
of the Stagyrite were not adopted; Christian writers took a higher and
more generous view of mankind. Aristotle's degrading doctrines upon man
born to servitude, destined to this end even by nature, anterior to all
legislation; his horrible doctrines upon infanticide; his theories,
which at one blow deprived all those who professed the mechanical arts
of the title of citizen; in a word, those monstrous systems, which
the ancient philosophers unconsciously learned from the society which
surrounded them, were utterly rejected by Christian philosophers. The
man who had just perused Aristotle's work on Politics took up his
Bible, or the works of the Fathers: the authority of Aristotle was
great, but that of the Church was still greater; the works of the
pagan philosopher must be interpreted piously, or abandoned; in either
case the rights of humanity were saved, and this was an effect of the
preponderating force of the Catholic faith.
The system of castes most forcibly contributes to arrest the
development of the popular element, by condemning the majority of the
people of a country to a state of perpetual abjection and slavery. In
this system, honors, riches, and command are confined and transferred
from father to son; a barrier separates men from each other, and
ends in causing the most powerful to be considered as belonging to a
superior class of beings. The Church has ever opposed the introduction
of so fatal a system, and to apply the word _caste_ to the clergy
would betray an ignorance of its meaning. On this subject M. Guizot
has done ample justice to the cause of truth. He expresses himself in
the following manner in the fifth lecture of his _Histoire générale
de la Civilisation en Europe_: "With regard to the mode of formation
and transmission of power in the Church, there is a word," says
he, "much used in speaking of the Christian clergy, and which I am
under the obligation of discarding; it is the word _caste_. The body
of ecclesiastical magistrates has often been called a caste. This
expression is not correct; the idea of heirship is inherent in that
of _caste_. Travel over the world; take all those countries in which
the system of _castes_ exists, in India, in Egypt, you will find
everywhere the _caste_ essentially hereditary; it is the transmission
of the same situation, of the same power, from father to son. Where
heirship does not exist, there is no caste, there is a corporation;
the spirit of corporate bodies has its inconveniences, but it is very
different from that of castes. The word caste cannot be applied to
the Christian Church. The celibacy of the clergy has prevented them
from becoming a caste. You perceive already the consequences of this
difference. A system of _caste_, and the existence of hereditary
succession, inevitably involve the idea of privileges. The very
definition of a _caste_ implies privileges. When the same functions,
the same powers, become hereditary in the same families, it is evident
that privileges follow, and that no one can acquire such functions and
powers unless he is born to them. This, in fact, is what has taken
place: wherever religious government has fallen into the hands of a
caste, it has become a privilege; no one has been permitted to enter
it but the members of families belonging to the caste. Nothing of this
has ever occurred in the Christian Church; on the contrary, she has
ever maintained the equal admissibility of all men, whatever their
origin, to all her functions, to all her dignities. The ecclesiastical
state, particularly from the fifth to the twelfth century, was open
to all. The Church was recruited from all ranks, from the inferior as
well as from the superior,--more commonly even from the inferior. She
alone resisted the system of castes; she alone maintained the principle
of equality of competition; she alone called all legitimate superiors
to the possession of power. This is the first grand result naturally
produced by the fact that she was a corporation, and not a caste."
This splendid passage of the French writer completely vindicates
the Catholic Church from the reproach of exclusiveness with which
it had been attempted to stain her; it presents to me also the
opportunity of making some reflections upon the beneficial effects
of Catholicity upon the development of civilization in favor of the
plebeian classes. We are not ignorant of the numerous declamations
against religious celibacy which have proceeded from the mouths of
the pretended defenders of the rights of humanity; but is it not
strange that they forget, as M. Guizot justly observes, that celibacy
is exactly what has prevented the Christian clergy from becoming a
caste? Let us examine, in fact, what would have been the case on the
contrary supposition. At the time to which we refer, the ascendency
of religious power was unlimited, and the wealth of the Church
considerable; that is to say, she possessed every thing necessary
for enabling a caste to establish its preponderance and stability.
What further was needful, therefore? Hereditary succession, nothing
more; and this would have been established by the marriage of the
clergy. What I here affirm is no vain conjecture, it is a positive
fact, which I can render evident by bringing forward historical proof.
From certain remarkable regulations in ecclesiastical legislation,
we learn that it required all the energy of pontifical authority to
prevent this succession from being introduced. Every thing, in fine,
tended to such an end; and if the Church preserved itself from such
a calamity, it was owing to the horror which she always entertained
of this fatal custom. Read the 17th chapter of the first book of the
Decretals of Gregory IX.; the pontifical regulations therein contained
prove that the evil here spoken of presented alarming symptoms. The
pope makes use of the strongest terms possible to be found: "_Ad
enormitatem istam eradicandam_," "observato Apostolici rescripti
decreto _quod successionem in Ecclesia Dei hereditariam detestatur_."
"_Ad extirpandas successiones a sanctis Dei Ecclesiis studio totius
sollicitudinis debemus intendere._" "Quia igitur in Ecclesia
successiones, et in prælaturis et dignitatibus ecclesiasticis _statutis
canonicis damnantur_." These expressions, and others of a like
nature, clearly show that the danger was already considered serious,
and justify the prudence of the Holy See in reserving to itself the
exclusive right of granting dispensations on this point.
It required the continual vigilance of the pontifical authority to
prevent this abuse from making daily progress, for it was urged on
by the most powerful feelings of nature. Four centuries had elapsed
since these measures had been taken, and yet we find that, in 1533,
Pope Clement VII. was obliged to restrict a canon of Alexander III.
in order to prevent grave scandals, grievously lamented by the pious
Pontiff. Suppose that the Church had not opposed such an abuse with all
her force, and that the custom had become general; bear in mind also,
that in those ages of the grossest ignorance, the privileged classes
were every thing, and the people had scarcely a civil existence; and
see whether there would not have been formed an ecclesiastical caste
along with that of the nobility, and whether both, united by the bonds
of family and common interest, would not have opposed an invincible
obstacle to the ulterior development of the plebeian class, plunging
European society into that degradation in which Asiatic society now
exists. Such would have been the consequence of the marriage of the
clergy, if the pretended reform had been realized a few centuries
sooner. When it came, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, it
found European society in a great measure formed; it had to contend
against an adult, who could not easily be made to forget his ideas and
change his habits. What has actually taken place may lead us to infer
what would have taken place. In England, a close alliance was formed
between the lay aristocracy and the Protestant clergy; and what is very
remarkable, we have seen, and we still see, in that country, something
resembling castes, with the modifications which must necessarily ensue
from the great development of a certain kind of civilization and
liberty at which Great Britain has arrived.
If the clergy in the middle age, establishing their perpetuity by
hereditary succession, had constituted themselves an exclusive class,
would not the aristocratic alliance of which we are speaking have
been a natural consequence? And who would thenceforth have been able
to break this alliance? The enemies of the Church interpret all her
discipline, and even some of her dogmas, by imputing to her ulterior
designs; and hence they consider the law of celibacy as the result
of an interested design. It was easy to see, however, that if the
Church had entertained worldly views, she might have selected as a
model those priests of other religions who have formed a separate,
preponderating, and exclusive class, for which the severity of duty
did not form a brazen wall against the enjoyments of nature. Europe,
it will be objected, is not Asia. This is true; but the Europe of our
days, and even that of the sixteenth century, is no longer the Europe
of the middle ages. In those centuries, in which none but the clergy
could read and write, and in which knowledge was exclusively in their
possession, had they wished to plunge the world into darkness, they
had only to extinguish the torch with which they were enlightening it.
It is also very certain, that celibacy has given to the clergy a moral
force and ascendency which they could not have attained by any other
means. But this only proves that the Church has preferred moral to
physical power, and that the spirit of her institutions is to act by
exercising a direct influence upon the intelligence and heart of man.
Now, is it not eminently praiseworthy to use all possible moral means
for the direction of mankind? Is it not an honor to the Catholic clergy
to have accomplished, by institutions severe against themselves, what
they might have realized in part by systems indulgent to their own
passions and degrading to others? Oh, we see here the work of Him who
will remain with His Church till the end of the world.
Whatever may be the value of these reflections, it cannot be contested,
that where Christianity has not existed, the people have been the
victims of a small number, whose contempt and insults have been the
only recompense of their labors. Consult history and experience;
the fact is general and constant; there is not an exception even in
those ancient republics so vaunted for their liberty. Under liberal
forms, slavery existed; a slavery properly so called for some men;
a slavery glossed over with fine appearances for that turbulent
multitude who served the caprice of the Tribunes, and believed they
were exercising their sublime rights by condemning to ostracism or
to death the most virtuous citizens. It has sometimes happened that,
among the Christians, appearances were not in favor of liberty, but
things were so in reality, if we understand by the word liberty the
empire of just laws, aiming at the well-being of the multitude, and
founded upon the consideration and profound respect due to the rights
of mankind. Observe the grand phases of European society at the time
when Catholicity exclusively predominated. With various forms, distinct
origins, different inclinations, they all follow the same course; all
tend to favor the cause of the multitude; whatever has this for its
aim, endures; whatever has not, perishes. Whence comes it that this was
not the case in other countries? If evident reasons and palpable facts,
moreover, did not manifest the salutary influence of the religion of
Jesus Christ, so remarkable a coincidence would suffice to suggest
grave reflections to those, who meditate upon the cause and character
of the events which change or modify the destiny of mankind. Let those
who represent Catholicity as the enemy of the people, point out to us
a single doctrine of the Church sanctioning the abuses under which the
people were suffering, or the injustice which oppressed them. Let them
show us whether, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, when
Europe was under the exclusive domination of the Catholic religion,
the people were not as far advanced as they could be, considering the
ordinary course of things. They certainly did not possess so much
wealth as they have since acquired, and their knowledge was not so
extensive as in modern times; but is the progress which has been made
in this respect attributable to Protestantism? Was not the sixteenth
century commenced under more favorable auspices than the fifteenth, and
the latter under better auspices than the fourteenth? This proves that
Europe, under the shield of Catholicity, continued in a progressive
march; that the cause of the multitude suffered no prejudice from the
influence of Catholicity; and that if great ameliorations have since
been effected, they have not been a consequence of what is called the
Reformation.
It is the development of industry and commerce that has most
powerfully contributed to elevate modern democracy, by diminishing
the preponderance of the aristocratic classes. I do not touch upon
the events which took place in Europe before the appearance of
Protestantism; but I see at a glance that, far from impeding such
a movement, Catholic doctrines and institutions must have favored
it, since, under their shield and protection, the manufacturing and
mercantile interests were surprisingly developed. No one is ignorant
of their astonishing success in Spain: and we cannot attribute this
progress to the Moors; for Catalonia, subject exclusively to the
Catholic influence, evinced such activity, prosperity, and intelligence
in industry and commerce, that we could scarcely believe to what a
state of perfection they had arrived, did not unexceptionable documents
bear ample testimony to the fact. Read the _Historical Memoirs of
the Marine, Commerce, and Arts of the ancient City of Barcelona_, by
our celebrated Capmany. May we not account it an honor to belong to
this Catalonian nation, whose ancestors displayed such zeal in all
things, never allowing other nations to surpass them in the march of
civilization and improvement? Whilst this phenomenon was advancing in
the south of Europe, the association of the Hanseatic towns, the origin
of which is lost in the centuries of the middle ages, was created in
the north. It obtained in time such an amount of power as to measure
its force with that of kings. Its rich factories, established all over
Europe, and favored with many advantageous privileges, elevated it to
the rank of a real power. Not satisfied with the power which it enjoyed
in its own country, and in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, it extended
it to England and Russia. London and Novogorod admired the splendid
establishments of those intrepid merchants, who, by means of their
wealth, obtained exorbitant privileges; who had their own magistrates,
and formed an independent state in the centre of foreign countries.
It is very remarkable that the Hanseatic league selected religious
communities as their model, in all that concerned the system of life
of the clerks in their counting-houses. Their clerks ate in common,
had common dormitories, and none of them were allowed to marry. Any
one of them transgressing this law, forfeited his rights to remain a
member or a citizen of the Hanseatic Confederation. In France, the
manufacturing classes were also organized, the better to resist the
elements of dissolution existing in their bosom; and this change, so
fruitful in results, is entirely due to a king venerated upon the
altars of the Catholic Church. _The Establishment for the Trades of
Paris_ gave a powerful impetus to the industrial classes, by augmenting
their intelligence and improving their morals; and whatever were the
abuses that crept into that organization, it cannot be denied that
St. Louis satisfactorily supplied a great want, by organizing the
trades in the best manner possible, considering how little progress
had at that time been made. What shall we say of Italy, containing
within its bosom the powerful republics of Venice, Florence, Genoa,
and Pisa? It is difficult to conceive what progress industry had made
in this peninsula, and, as a natural consequence, what a development
the democratical element received. Had the influence in itself been
so oppressive, had the breath of the Roman court been fatal to the
progress of the people, is it not evident that its effects would have
been particularly felt in those countries which were the scene of its
actions? Whence comes it, then, that whilst a great part of Europe was
groaning under feudal oppression, the middle class, whose only title
to nobility was the fruit of their intelligence and labor, appeared in
Italy so powerful, so brilliant and flourishing? I will not contend
that this development was attributable to the Popes; but, at least, we
must grant that they never opposed it.
Now, if we observe a similar phenomenon in Spain, and particularly in
Aragon, where the Pontifical influence was great; if the same thing is
observable in the north of Europe, inhabited by people whom Catholicity
alone has civilized; if, in fine, the same phenomenon is realized, with
greater or less rapidity, in all countries exclusively subject to the
belief and authority of the Church, we may conclude that Catholicity
contains nothing opposed to the movement of civilization, and that it
is not opposed to a just and legitimate development of the popular
element.
I cannot think how it is possible for any one who has read history to
accord to Protestantism the honor of being favorable to the interests
of the multitude. Its origin was essentially aristocratic; and in those
countries in which it has succeeded in taking root, it has established
aristocracy upon such firm foundations, that the revolutions of three
centuries have not been able to overturn it. Witness, for a proof of
this, what has taken place in Germany, England, and all the north
of Europe. It has been said that Calvinism is more favorable to the
democratical element; and that if it had prevailed in France it would
have established a system of federative republic in place of monarchy.
Whatever may be the value of this conjecture upon a change which
would certainly not have been very beneficial to the future prospects
of that nation, it is perfectly certain that no other system than
that of aristocracy would have been found practicable in France; for
circumstances at that period would admit of nothing else; and the
aristocrats who were at the head of religious innovation, would admit
of no other organization. Had Protestantism triumphed in France, it is
probable that the poor of that country, in imitation of their brethren
in Germany, would have claimed a share in the rich booty; but they
certainly would not have found Calvin's proverbial harshness more
advantageous to them than the furious rashness of Luther was to the
Germans. It is probable that these wretched villagers, who, according
to contemporary writers, had nothing to eat but rye-bread, with no
animal food, and slept upon a bundle of straw, with a board for their
pillow, would not have felt themselves more comfortable than their
brethren in Germany, had they thought proper to participate in the
effects of the new doctrines. In this case, they would not have been
punished, but exterminated, like their brethren beyond the Rhine.
In England, the sudden disappearance of the monasteries produced
pauperism. Their property having fallen into the hands of laymen,
the religious being driven from their abodes, the poor who subsisted
upon the alms of these holy establishments were left without the
means of subsistence. And observe, that the evil was not temporary;
it has continued to our own days, and is now one of the greatest
evils afflicting Great Britain. I am aware that almsgiving is said
to encourage indolence; but it is very certain that England, with
her poor-laws and her legal charity, contains a far greater number
of destitute poor than Catholic countries. It will be difficult to
convince me, that to let people die of hunger is a good means of
developing the popular element. Protestantism must have contained
something very repulsive to the democrats of that period, since we
find it rejected in Spain and Italy, the two countries in which the
people enjoyed the greatest share of prosperity and rights. And this
becomes still more worthy of attention, when we remark that religious
innovation took root wherever the feudal aristocracy predominated.
Look, it will be said, at the United Provinces; but this example only
proves that Protestantism, determined to find supporters, willingly
took part with the mal-contents. If Philip II. had been a zealous
Protestant, the United Provinces would probably have alleged that they
were unwilling to remain any longer subject to an heretical prince.
These provinces were for a long time under the exclusive influence of
Catholicity, and yet they were prosperous; the popular element was
developed in their bosom, without meeting any obstacle on the part of
religion. Exactly at the beginning of the sixteenth century they made
the discovery, that they could no longer prosper without abjuring the
faith of their ancestors. Observe the geographical position of the
United Provinces; see them surrounded by reformists offering to assist
them; and you will find in political considerations the reason which
you may seek in vain in imaginary affinity between the Protestant
system and the interests of the people.[35]
CHAPTER LXI.
ON THE VALUE OF THE DIFFERENT POLITICAL FORMS--CHARACTER OF MONARCHY IN
EUROPE.
The enthusiasm enkindled in Europe in latter times, has cooled down
by degrees; experience has shown that a political organization not
in accordance with the social organization is of no advantage to a
nation, but rather overwhelms it with evil. Men also understand, and
not without difficulty, simple as the matter is, that political systems
should be regarded solely as a means of ameliorating the condition
of the people, and that political liberty, to be at all rational,
must be made a medium for the acquisition of civil liberty. Amongst
enlightened men, these are ordinary ideas; fanaticism for such or such
political forms, considered abstractly from their civil results, is
now abandoned as a thing denoting ignorance, or as a discreditable
means hypocritically made use of by the ambitious, devoid of real
merit, whose only way to fortune is disturbance and revolution. It
cannot, however, be denied that, considered as simple instruments,
certain political forms, such as mixed, moderate, constitutional,
or representative governments, or whatever they be designated, have
acquired in some countries consideration and solidity; and that, in
many countries, any principle which might be considered opposed to
representative forms, and only favorable to absolute ones, would be
repudiated beforehand. Civil liberty has become necessary to the
people of Europe; and in some nations the idea of this liberty is so
identified with that of political liberty, that it is difficult to
explain how civil liberty can exist under an absolute monarchy. We
must therefore examine what are the tendencies of the Catholic and
those of the Protestant religions. I will proceed so as to discover
these tendencies by an impartial analysis of historical facts. Never,
perhaps, as M. Guizot felicitously observes, were the natural course of
things, and the hidden ways of Providence, less understood. Wheresoever
we meet not with assemblies, elections, urns, and votes, we imagine
power must be absolute, and liberty unprotected. I have an express
design in making use of the word tendencies, because it is clear that
Catholicity has no dogma on this point--it does not pronounce upon the
advantages of any particular form of government. The Roman Pontiff
acknowledges equally as his son the Catholic seated upon the bench of
an American Assembly, and the most humble subject of the most powerful
monarch. The Catholic religion is too prudent to descend upon any such
ground. Emanating from heaven itself, she diffuses herself, like the
light of the sun, over all things, enlightens and strengthens all, and
is never obscured or tarnished. Her object is to conduct man to heaven,
by furnishing him on his passage with great assistance and consolation
upon earth; she ceases not to point out to him eternal truths; she
gives him in all his affairs, salutary counsels; but the moment we come
to mere details, she has no obligation to impose, no duty to enjoin.
She impresses upon his mind her sacred maxims of morality, admonishing
him never to depart from them; like a tender mother speaking to her
son, she says to him, "Provided you depart not from my instructions, do
what you consider most expedient."
But is it true that there is in Catholicity at least a tendency to
obstruct liberty? What has been the result of Protestantism in Europe
with regard to political forms? In what has it corrected or ameliorated
the work of Catholicity? In the centuries preceding the sixteenth, the
organization of European society was so complicated, the development
of all the intellectual faculties had arrived at such a point, the
contention of interests was so lively, in fine, every nation was
so enlarged by the successive agglomeration of provinces, that a
central, forcible, energetic power, predominating over all individual
pretensions and those of classes, was indispensable to the peace and
prosperity of the people. Europe had no other hope for peace; for
wherever there exists a great number of various, opposite, and all
powerful elements, a regulating action is necessary to prevent violent
shocks, to calm excessive ardor, to moderate the rapidity of motion, to
prevent a continual war, which would necessarily lead to destruction
and chaos. This immediately gave to the monarchical principle a fresh
and irresistible impulse; and as this impulse was felt in every
European country, even in those possessing republican institutions, it
evidently resulted from causes that lay deep in the social condition
of the times. At the present day there is not a publicist of any note
who would question these truths. During the last half century, in fact,
events have occurred well calculated to demonstrate that in Europe
monarchy is something more than _usurpation_ and _tyranny_. In the
very countries in which democratical ideas have taken root, it has
been found necessary to modify them, and in some degree to depart from
them, in order to preserve the throne, which is regarded as the best
safeguard of the great interests of society.
It is the infirmity of all things human, however good and salutary they
may be, always to bring with them an accompaniment of inconveniences
and evils. Monarchy could not evidently be exempt from this general
rule; in other words, the great extension of force and power was
sure to produce abuse and excess. The European nations are not of
a sufficiently patient character, nor of a sufficiently moderate
temperament, to endure with resignation all sorts of disorders. The
European entertains so profound an idea of his dignity, that he cannot
comprehend the quietism of the Oriental nations, living in the midst of
degradation, bowing their slavish heads before the despot who despises
and oppresses them. Hence, whilst we in Europe acknowledge and feel
the necessity of a very strong power, we have always endeavored to
take measures for restraining and preventing the abuse of this power.
Nothing exalts so much the grandeur and dignity of the European nations
as the comparison of them with those of Asia. The latter have no better
means of delivering themselves from oppression than the assassination
of their sovereigns. Whilst the blood of one monarch is still warm,
another ascends his throne, trampling with a disdainful foot on the
heads of nations as cruel as they are degraded. Not so in Europe;
we have always recourse to intellectual means; we have established
institutions which lastingly protect the people from oppression and
excesses. We cannot deny that our efforts have cost torrents of blood,
or affirm that we have always adopted the most expedient means; but on
this point Europe, guided by the same spirit as in all other matters,
has become anxious to substitute right in the place of mere might.
This is no recent problem; it existed when European society was in its
infancy, and in these latter times has been overlooked. Great efforts
were made many centuries ago to resolve it. Observe how Count de
Maistre states his opinions on this difficult problem:
"Although the greatest and most general interest of sovereignty
consists in its being just, and although the cases in which it
transgresses this condition are incomparably fewer than the others,
unfortunately it does, however, frequently transgress it; and the
particular character of certain sovereigns may so far augment these
inconveniences, that in order to render them supportable, it is
necessary to compare them with those which would exist if there were
no sovereign. It was therefore impossible that men should not, from
time to time, make efforts to secure themselves against the excess of
this enormous prerogative; but on this point the world has adopted
two widely different systems. _The daring tribe of Japheth has at all
times been gravitating_ (if we may use the expression) _towards what is
termed liberty_; that is, towards that social condition in which the
influence of the governing powers is least sensibly felt. Ever jealous
of his rights and liberties, the European has sought to preserve them,
sometimes by expelling his rulers, and at other times by opposing to
them the barrier of law. He has tried every thing, every imaginable
form of government, to set himself free from his rulers, or to restrain
their power.
"The _immense posterity of Shem and Cham_ have pursued another course.
From the earliest ages down to our own time they have always said to
their fellowmen, _Do whatever you please, and when we are tired we
will put you to death_. Besides, they have never been able or willing
to comprehend the nature of a republic; the balance of power, all those
privileges, all those fundamental laws of which we are so proud, are
totally unknown to them. Among them, the richest and most independent
man, the possessor of immense movable wealth, absolutely at liberty to
transport it whither he pleases, sure, moreover, of entire protection
upon European ground, and threatened at home with the rope or the
dagger, prefers them, nevertheless, to the misery of dying of ennui
among us. But no one will ever think of recommending to Europe the
public law of Asia and Africa, so short and clear; but as power in
Europe is always so much feared, discussed, attacked, or transferred,
since nothing so much wounds our pride as despotic government, the
most general European problem is to know _how sovereign power may be
restrained without being destroyed_." (_Du Pape_, liv. ii. chap. 2.)
This spirit of political liberty, this desire of limiting power by
means of institutions, did not originate with the French philosophers;
before their time, and long before the appearance of Protestantism,
it was circulating in the veins of the European people. History has
left us irrefragable testimonies of this truth. What institutions
were deemed suitable for the accomplishment of this object? Certain
assemblies, in which the voice of the nation's interests and opinions
might be heard--assemblies formed in various ways, and meeting from
time to time around the throne to make their complaints and assert
their claims. As it was impossible for these assemblies to constitute
the government without destroying the monarchy, it was necessary,
in one way or another, to secure their influence in state affairs;
and I do not see that anything better has hitherto been devised for
attaining this object than the right of intervention in the enactment
of laws, a right guaranteed to them by another, that may be justly
termed the right arm of national representation,--the right of voting
the supplies. Much has been written respecting constitutions and
representative governments, but this is the essential point. Many and
various modifications may be introduced, but in reality all consists in
the establishment of the throne as the centre of power and of action,
surrounded by assemblies that shall deliberate upon the laws and the
taxes.
Does political liberty in this point of view originate in Protestant
ideas? Is it under any obligation to them? Has it, in fine, any
reproach against Catholicity? I open the works of Catholic writers
anterior to Protestantism, in order to ascertain their sentiments on
this subject, and I find that they take a clear view of the problem to
be solved. I examine rigidly whether they teach anything opposed to the
progress of the world, to the dignity or the rights of man; I examine,
again, whether they bear any affinity to despotism or to tyranny, and
I find them full of sympathy for the progress of enlightenment and of
mankind, inflamed with noble and generous sentiments, and zealous for
the happiness of the multitude. I remark, indeed, that their hearts
swell with indignation at the mere names of tyranny and despotism. I
open the records of history; I study the opinions and customs of the
nations, and the predominating institutions; I behold on all sides
nothing but _fueros_, privileges, liberty, cortes, states-general,
municipalities, and juries. All this appears in the greatest confusion,
but I see it; and I am not astonished to discover an absence of order,
for it is a new world just arisen from chaos. I ask myself if the
monarch possesses in himself the faculty of making laws; and upon this
question I very naturally find variety, uncertainty, and confusion; but
I observe that the assemblies representing the different classes of
the nation take part in the enactment of the laws. I ask whether they
have any interference in the great affairs of the state; and I find
it stated in the codes that they are to be consulted on all grave and
important affairs: I see monarchs frequently observing this precept. I
ask whether these assemblies possess any guarantees for their existence
and their influence; and the codes inform me by the most decisive
texts, and a thousand facts are at hand to convince me, that these
institutions were deeply rooted in the customs and manners of the
people.
Now what was then the predominating religion? Catholicity. Were the
people much attached to religion? So much so that the spirit of
religion predominated over all. Did the clergy possess great influence?
Very great. What was the power of the Popes? It was immense. Where do
you find the clergy attempting to extend the power of kings to the
prejudice of the people? Where are the pontifical decrees against
such or such forms? Where are the measures and plans of the Popes
for the restriction of one single legitimate right? No reply. Then I
say indignantly, Europe, under the influence of Catholicity, arose
from chaos to order, civilization advanced at a firm and steady pace,
the grand problem of political forms engaged the attention of men
of wisdom, questions of morality and laws were receiving a solution
favorable to liberty, and yet the influence of the clergy was never
greater even in temporal matters, and the power of the Popes was in
every sense quite colossal.
What! one word from the Sovereign Pontiff would have smitten unto death
every form of popular government; and yet such forms were receiving
a rapid development. Where, then, is the tendency of the Catholic
religion to enslave the people? Where the infamous alliance between
kings and Popes to oppress and harass the people, to establish on the
throne a ferocious despotism, and to rejoice under its gloomy shades
over the misfortune and tears of mankind? When the Popes had a quarrel
with any kingdom, was it usually with the king or the people? When it
was necessary to oppose a firm front against tyranny and oppression,
who stood forward more promptly or more firmly than the Sovereign
Pontiff? Does not Voltaire himself admit that the Popes restrained
princes, _protected the people_, put an end to the quarrels of the time
by a wise intervention, reminded both kings and people of their duties,
and hurled anathemas against those enormities which they could not
prevent? (Quoted by M. de Maistre, _Du Pape_.)
It is very remarkable that the Bull In _Cœna Domini_, which created
so much alarm, contains in its fifth article an excommunication
against "_those who should levy new taxes upon their estates, or
should increase those already existing beyond the bounds marked out by
right_." The spirit of deliberation, so common even at this period,
and which formed so singular a contrast with the tendency to violent
measures, arose in a great measure from the example given by the
Catholic Church during so many centuries. In fact, it is impossible to
point out a society in which more assemblies have been held, combining
in them every thing distinguished by science and virtue. General,
national, provincial Councils and diocesan synods are to be met with
in every page of the Church's history. Such an example, exposed during
centuries to the view of the people, could not fail to influence and
affect customs and laws. In Spain the greatest part of the Councils of
Toledo were also national congresses; whilst the episcopal authority
performed its functions in them, watching over the purity of dogmas,
and providing for the wants of discipline, the great affairs of the
state were also discussed in them in harmony with the secular power. In
them were enacted those laws which are still an object of admiration to
modern observers. The utopias of Rousseau are now fallen into complete
disrepute among the best publicists. Representative governments are
no longer to be defended as a means of bringing the general will into
action, but as an instrument, through the medium of which reason and
good sense may be consulted, which would otherwise remain dispersed
throughout the nation. Legislative assemblies are now represented
to us, in works upon constitutional law, as the foci in which all
knowledge serving to throw light on the difficulties of public affairs
may be concentrated; they are held up to us as the representatives of
all legitimate interests, as the organ of all reasonable opinions, the
voice of all just complaints, a channel of perpetual communication
between governors and their subjects, a measure of justice in the laws,
a means of rendering the laws respectable and venerable in the eyes
of the people; in short, as a permanent guarantee that a government,
never consulting its own interests, should study only public utility
and expediency. At a time when we are informed in such fine terms
what these assemblies ought to be, not what they are, it will not be
uninteresting to refer to the Councils; for we see at a glance that the
Councils must in a certain manner explain the nature and spirit, and
point out the motives and aim, of political assemblies.
I am aware of the fundamental differences existing between these two
assemblies; men who receive their powers from popular election cannot,
in fact, be placed in the same rank as those who have been appointed by
the Holy Ghost to govern the Church of God; neither can the monarch,
who derives his right to the throne from the fundamental laws of the
nation, be confounded with that rock upon which the Church of Christ is
built. I grant also that, whether with regard to the subjects discussed
in the Councils, or with regard to the persons engaged in these
discussions, and to the extension of the Church over the whole earth,
there must necessarily be a great dissimilarity between the Councils
and political assemblies, with respect to the epoch of their being
assembled, and the mode of their organization and of their proceedings.
But we are not here about to imagine an ingenious parallel, and to seek
with subtilty resemblances which do not exist; my only aim is to show
the influence which the lessons of prudence and maturity given for so
long a time by the Church must have exercised upon political laws and
customs. If we consult the annals of the nations of antiquity, or those
of modern times, we shall discover that all deliberative assemblies are
composed of persons who have a right to sit in them by a regulation
stated in the laws. But to admit into them a man of knowledge, simply
because he is so, is to pay a noble tribute to merit--to proclaim in
the most solemn manner, that the care of ruling the world belongs
properly to intelligence. This the Church alone has done.
I make this observation to prove that society is indebted mainly to the
Church for the progress it has made in this respect. I will adduce on
this point a fact that has not perhaps been sufficiently attended to,
but which clearly shows that the Catholic Church was the first to seek
out men of talent wherever they were to be found, and unhesitatingly
to allow them influence in public affairs. I will not speak of that
spirit which forms one of her distinctive characteristics among all
other societies, which has ever led her to seek merit, and nothing but
merit, and to raise it to the highest functions--a spirit which no one
can deny her, and which has eminently contributed to her splendor and
preponderance. But it is very remarkable that the influence of this
spirit has been felt where, at first sight, it might have been least
expected. In fact, it is well known that, according to the doctrines
of the Church, no private individual has any right to interfere in the
decisions and deliberations of the Councils; hence, however learned a
theologian or jurist may be, his knowledge gives him no right whatever
to take part in those august assemblies. Nevertheless, it is well
known that the Church has ever taken care to call to them men who,
whatever might be their titles, excelled most by their talents or their
learning. Who does not read with pleasure the list of learned men who,
although not Bishops, were present at the Council of Trent?
In modern society, do not talent, wisdom, and genius carry the highest
head, command the greatest consideration and respect, and present the
best claims to the direction of public affairs, and to the exercise of
a preponderating influence? These should know that nowhere have their
claims been respected or their dignity acknowledged so well as in the
Church. What society, in fact, has ever sought, as the Church has,
to elevate them, to consult them in the most important affairs, and
to afford them an opportunity of shining in grand assemblies? In the
Church, birth and riches are of no importance. If you are a man of high
merit, untarnished by misconduct, and at the same time conspicuous by
your abilities and your knowledge, that is enough--she will look upon
you as a great man, will always show you extreme consideration, treat
you with respect, and listen to you with deference. And since your
brow, though sprung from obscurity, is radiant with fame, it will be
held worthy to bear the mitre, the Cardinal's hat, or the tiara. To
speak in the language of the day, I may remark, that the aristocracy of
knowledge owes much of its importance to the ideas and discipline of
the Church.[36]
CHAPTER LXII.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF MONARCHY IN EUROPE.
A single glance at the state of Europe in the fifteenth century enables
us to discover that such a state of things could not long exist, and
that of the three elements claiming preference, the monarchical must
necessarily prevail. And it could not be otherwise; for we have always
seen that societies, after a long period of trouble and agitation,
place themselves at last under the protection of that power which
offers them the greatest security and well-being. Beholding, on the one
hand, those great feudatories, so proud, so exacting, so turbulent,
enemies to each other, and rivals of the king as well as of the people;
on the other hand, the commons, whose existence appears under so many
different forms--whose rights, privileges, _fueros_ and liberties
present so various and complex an aspect--whose ideas have no constant
and well defined direction;--we conclude at once, that neither were
possessed of sufficient force to struggle against the royal power,
already acting by a fixed plan and a determinate system, seizing every
opportunity which might serve to forward its views. Who is not aware
of the sagacity displayed by Ferdinand the Catholic in developing and
implanting his prominent idea--that of centralizing power, giving
it vigor, and rendering its action forcible and universal; that is,
the idea of founding a true monarchy? And why not acknowledge in the
immortal Ximenes a worthy and more eminent continuator of this policy?
It would be erroneous to consider this as an evil to nations. All
publicists agree that it was necessary to give strength and stability
to power, and prevent its action from becoming weak or intermittent;
but the only representative of real power at that time was the throne.
Hence, to fortify and aggrandize royal power was of real necessity;
all plans and efforts of man would have failed to place an obstacle
in its way. But it remains, nevertheless, to be seen, whether this
aggrandizement of royal power outstepped its due bounds; and this is
the place for contrasting Protestantism with Catholicity, that we may
ascertain which of them was culpable, if either, and to what extent.
This is a very important and curious subject, but at the same time one
of difficulty and delicacy. In fact, such a change has taken place of
late in the meaning of words, the aversion which parties profess for
each other is so profound, each one repels with such impetuosity every
thing which bears the most remote resemblance to what is esteemed by
his adversaries, that it is an arduous undertaking to render the state
of the question and the meaning of words comprehensible. I ask one
thing of my readers of all opinions; that is, that they will suspend
their judgment until they have read the whole of what I have to adduce
on this point. If they consent to this, and do not quarrel with the
first word that shocks them--in a word, if they have sufficient
patience to hear before they judge, I am confident that, if we do not
altogether agree, which is impossible amid such a variety of opinions,
they will at least grant that I have taken an apparently reasonable
view of the subject, and that my conjectures are not altogether
unfounded.
I shall commence, in the first place, by completely laying aside the
question whether it was advantageous or not to society that, in the
greatest part of European monarchies, royal power should have any other
limits than those naturally imposed upon it by the state of ideas and
customs. This question some will answer in the affirmative, others in
the negative; and I need not observe to what party they respectively
belong. To many people the word _liberty_ is a scandal, just as the
term absolute power is with others synonymous with despotism. But what
is that liberty which the former repel with so much force? what meaning
is attached to this word in their dictionaries? They have witnessed
the French Revolution, with its iniquities and frightful crimes, and
they have heard it continually crying out for liberty: they have
witnessed the Spanish Revolution, with its vociferations of death, and
its sanguinary excesses--its injustice, its disdain for every thing
that Spaniards had been accustomed to esteem the most valuable and
sacred; and yet they have heard the cries of this Revolution also for
_liberty_. What was to be expected? Why, what we now witness. They
confounded the name of liberty with all sorts of impieties and crimes;
and, in consequence, they hated it, they repelled it, they fought
against it sword in hand. In vain were they informed that the cortes
was an ancient institution; they replied, that the ancient cortes was
not like that of their times. In vain were they reminded that our laws
ordained the nation's right of interference by its vote on the levying
of taxes. They replied: "We are well aware of it; but the nation is
not now represented by those who interfere in its affairs; they only
avail themselves of this pretended title to enslave both the king and
the people." They were told that the representatives of the different
classes had formerly the right of intervention in the important affairs
of the state. "What class do you represent," they replied; "you who
degrade the monarch, insult and persecute the nobility, abuse and
plunder the clergy, despising the people, and making their customs and
their religious belief a subject for your sneers? What, then, do you
represent? Is it the Spanish nation, when you trample on her religion
and laws, when you excite social dissolution on all sides, and make
blood flow in torrents? How can you call yourselves the restorers of
our fundamental laws, when we find nothing either in you or in your
acts which marks the true Spaniard; when all your theories, plans, and
projects are only miserable copies of foreign books but too well known,
while you have forgotten your own language?"
I pray the reader will cast his eyes over the files of the journals,
the bulletins of the cortes, and other documents that remain of the
two epochs of 1812 and 1820; let him also call to mind the events we
have recently witnessed; let him afterwards peruse the records and
memorials of anterior epochs,--our codes, our books, every thing, in
fine, capable of throwing light upon the character, the ideas, and
the customs of the Spanish people; then let him lay his hand upon
his heart, and, whatever be his political opinions, let him tell us,
upon his honor, if he finds the least resemblance between the past
and the present; if he does not, at the very first glance, perceive
a striking and violent contrast between the two epochs--a chasm, in
fact, to fill up which, I say it with grief, would require heaps of
fresh ruins, ashes, dead bodies, and torrents of blood. Were we to
place the question beyond the influence of the empoisoned atmosphere
of human passions and of bitter recollections, we might, it is true,
very well examine the expediency of allowing the royal authority
to attain to a growth that set it free from every kind of check or
restraint, even in affairs of the most essential importance and in the
voting of the government supplies. The question would then have merely
a historico-political aspect, could not be confounded with actual
practice, and, consequently, would not affect either the interests or
the opinions of our time. However that might be, I will not stop to
consider or to notice what has been thought and said upon the subject,
but will take up the hypothesis, that the disappearance from the body
politic, at that time, of every element save the monarchical, was a
misfortune to the people, and an obstacle to the progress of true
civilization. And whose was the fault? let me ask.
It is remarkable that the greatest increase of royal power in Europe
dates precisely from the commencement of Protestantism. In England,
from the time of Henry VIII., not only did monarchy prevail, but a
despotism so cruel that no vain appearances of impotent forms have
availed to disguise its excesses. In France, after the Huguenot war,
royal power became more absolute than ever; in Sweden, Gustavus
ascended the throne, and from that time kings began to exercise an
almost unlimited power; in Denmark, monarchy continued, and became
stronger; in Germany, the kingdom of Prussia was formed, and absolute
forms generally prevailed; in Austria, the empire of Charles V. arose
in all its power and splendor; in Italy, the small republics were fast
disappearing, and the people, under some title or another, became
subject to princes; in Spain, in fine, the ancient cortes of Castile,
Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia fell into disuse: that is to say,
instead of seeing, by the accession of Protestantism, the people take
one step towards representative forms, we find, on the contrary, that
they rapidly advanced towards absolute government. This is a certain,
incontestable fact. Sufficient attention has not perhaps been paid
to so singular a coincidence; but it is not the less real, and is
certainly of a nature to suggest numerous and interesting reflections.
Was this coincidence purely accidental? Was there any hidden connection
between Protestantism and the development and definitive establishment
of absolutism? I think there was; and I will even add, that, had
Catholicism retained an exclusive sway in Europe, the power of the
throne would have been gradually diminished--that representative
forms would probably not have disappeared altogether--that the people
would have continued to take part in national affairs--that we should
have been much farther advanced in civilization, much better fitted
for the enjoyment of true liberty--and that this liberty would not
be associated in our minds with scenes of horror. Yes, the fatal
Reformation has given a wrong direction to European society, injured
civilization, created necessities that previously had no existence,
and opened chasms which it cannot close. It destroyed many elements of
good, and consequently produced a radical change in the conditions of
the political problem. This I think I can demonstrate.
CHAPTER LXIII.
TWO KINDS OF DEMOCRACY.
There is in the history of Europe one leading fact contained in all
its pages, and still visible in our days, viz. the parallel march of
two democracies, which, although sometimes apparently alike, are, in
reality, very different in their nature, origin, and aim. The one is
based upon the knowledge and dignity of man, and on the right which
he possesses of enjoying a certain amount of liberty conformable
to reason and justice. With ideas more or less clear, more or less
uniform, upon the real origin of society and of power, it entertains
at least very clear, precise, and fixed ones upon the real object and
aim of both. Whether the right of commanding proceeds directly and
immediately from God, or whether we suppose it communicated previously
to society, and transmitted afterwards to those who govern, it always
grants that power is for the common weal, and that, if it does not
direct its actions to this end, it falls into tyranny. To privileges,
honors, and distinctions of every kind, it applies its favorite
touchstone--the public good; whatever is opposed to this, is rejected
as noxious; whatever does not tend to promote it, is repudiated as
superfluous. Convinced that knowledge and virtue are the only things
of real worth, and deserving of consideration in the distribution
of the social functions, this democracy requires them to be sought
without ceasing, that they may be elevated to the summit of power and
of glory; it goes to seek them in the midst of the deepest obscurity.
A nobleman, proud of his titles and his heraldry, and boasting of the
glorious deeds of his ancestors, without being able to imitate them,
is, in its estimation, an object of ridicule; it will allow such a
man to enjoy his riches, that the sacred right of property may not be
violated; but it will remove from his grasp, by all lawful means, the
influence he might derive from the nobility of his blood. In fine, if
it takes nobility, birth or riches into consideration, it is not for
any intrinsic worth of these advantages, but because they are signs
which lead us to expect a more accomplished education, more knowledge
and probity.
Full of generous ideas, this democracy, placing the dignity of man
in the highest degree, reminding man of his rights, and also of his
duties, is indignant at the very name of tyranny. It hates tyranny,
condemns it, repels it, and is perpetually employed in discovering
the best means for preventing it. Wise and calm, as the inseparable
companion of reason and good sense must ever be, it agrees very well
with monarchy; but we may rest assured that its desires have generally
been, that the laws of the country should, in one way or another,
place a restraint upon the excesses of kings. Aware that the rock
against which they ran the risk of being wrecked, was the excess of
contributions levied upon the people, its favorite idea, which it has
never abandoned, even when it was impracticable, has been to restrain
the unlimited faculties of power with respect to contributions. Another
of its predominating ideas has been to prevent the will of man from
prevailing in the formation or application of the laws. It has ever
sought to guarantee and secure in some way, that the will should not
usurp the place of reason. Such has been the force of this universal
desire, that it has been indelibly stamped upon European manners, and
the most absolute monarchs have been compelled to gratify it. Hence
one thing very worthy of remark is, that the throne has ever been
surrounded by respectable counsellors, whose existence was insured
either by the laws or by the national customs. These counsellors
certainly could not preserve, in all circumstances, the independence
necessary for the accomplishment of their object, but they did not
fail to be of great service; for their mere existence was an eloquent
protest against unjust and arbitrary regulations; it was a noble
personification of reason and justice, pointing out the sacred limits
ever to be regarded as inviolable by the most powerful monarch. This
is also the reason why sovereigns in Europe never exercise themselves
the faculty of pronouncing judgment, differing in this respect from
the sultans. The laws and customs of Europe energetically repulse this
faculty, as fatal to the people as it is to the monarch; and the mere
recital of such an attempt would excite public indignation against its
author.
The meaning of all this is, that this principle, so much extolled, that
it is not the monarch but the law that commands, has been received in
Europe for many centuries; it was in full force in all the European
nations long before modern publicists emphatically enunciated it. It
will be said, perhaps, that if this was the case in theory, it was not
so in practice. I do not deny that there were reprehensible exceptions,
but the principle was generally respected. As a case in point, let us
take the most absolute reign of modern times, with the most unlimited
royal power in all its splendor, in its apogee,--the reign in which
the king could exclaim with too much pride, but yet with truth, "I am
the state"--that of Louis the Fourteenth. It lasted more than half a
century, with an astonishing variety and complication of events. How
many deaths, confiscations, and banishments took place in it, executed
by the royal command, without any judicial ordeal! Perhaps some
arbitrary acts of this time may be cited; but let them be compared with
what was passing under equivalent circumstances amongst the nations
out of Europe: let any one recall to mind what took place at the time
of the Roman empire, and the excesses of absolute royalty wherever
Christianity did not exist, and he will see that the excesses committed
in European monarchies are scarcely worthy of being mentioned. This
is a proof that the distinction made between monarchical governments,
whether absolute or despotic, is not arbitrary and fictitious. Any one
acquainted with the legislation and history of Europe must be well
aware that this distinction is correct, and he will be forced to smile
at those boisterous declamations in which malice or ignorance endeavors
to confound the two systems of government.
This limit imposed upon power, this circle of reason and justice which
we always find traced around it, derives its origin principally from
the ideas disseminated by Christianity, whether it have its guarantee
in ideas and manners or in political forms. It is Christianity that
has proclaimed, "Reason and justice, knowledge and virtue, are every
thing; the mere will of man, his birth, his titles, are of no intrinsic
value." These words have penetrated every where, from the palace of
kings to the poor man's cottage; and, from the moment that the mind
of an entire people became imbued with such ideas, Asiatic despotism
became impracticable. In fact, in the absence of every political form
limiting the power of the monarch, a voice resounds in his ears on
all sides, exclaiming, "We are not thy slaves, we are thy subjects;
thou art a king, but thou art a man, and a man who, like ourselves,
must appear one day before the Supreme Judge; thou hast the power of
making laws, but merely for our interests; thou canst exact tributes
from us, but only such as are necessary for the common weal; thou
canst not judge us according to thy caprice, but only conformably to
the laws; thou canst not seize our property without rendering thyself
more culpable than the common robber, nor make an attempt on our lives,
of thy own will, without becoming an assassin; the power thou hast
received is not for thy comfort or pleasure, nor for the gratification
of thy passions, but solely for our happiness; thou art a person
exclusively devoted to the public weal; if thou forgettest this, thou
art a tyrant."
Unfortunately, however, together with this spirit of lawful
independence, of rational liberty,--together with this just, noble, and
generous democracy, there has ever been another accompanying it, and
forming with it the most lively contrast. The latter has been extremely
injurious to the former, by preventing it from attaining the object of
its just pretensions; erroneous in its principles and perverse in its
intentions, violent and unjust in its mode of acting, its traces have
been everywhere marked by a stream of blood. Instead of obtaining true
liberty for the people, it has merely served to deprive them of that
which they already possessed; or if it actually found them groaning
under the yoke of slavery, it has only served to rivet their chains.
Allying itself on all occasions with the basest passions, it has
attracted to its standard all that was most vile and abject in society,
and gathered together the most turbulent and ill-disposed men. By
cheating its miserable followers with delusive promises, and exciting
them with the prospect of plunder and pillage, it has been a perpetual
source of commotions, scandals, and bitter animosities, that have at
length produced their natural results--persecutions, proscriptions, and
executions. Its fundamental dogma was the rejection of all authority of
every description, to overturn which was its constant aim; the reward
it expected for its labors was to seat itself upon a throne established
amidst universal ruin, to glut itself with the blood of thousands of
victims, and to revel in the grossest orgies during the distribution
of its blood-stained spoil. In all times, in all countries, riots,
popular insurrections, and revolutions have taken place; but,
for the last seven centuries, Europe presents these scenes in so
singular a character, that it forms a most fitting subject for the
reflection of philosophers. In fact, these tendencies towards social
dissolution--tendencies, the origin of which it is not difficult to
discover in the very heart of man--have not only existed in the bosom
of Europe, but have been formed into a theory; as ideas, they have
been defended with all the obstinacy and infatuation of a sectarian
spirit; and, wherever an opportunity occurred, reduced to practice
with unyielding pertinacity and unbridled fury. The system was made up
of folly and fanaticism, and carried out with obstinacy, a spirit of
proselytism, and monstrous crimes. In every page of its history this
truth is attested in characters of blood. Happy our nation, had she not
tried the experiment!
Europe may be compared to those men of great capacity and of active and
intrepid characters, who are either the very best or the very worst
of men. Scarcely can a single fact of any weight remain isolated in
Europe: there is not a truth that is not useful, nor an error that is
not fatal. Ideas have a tendency to become realized, and facts, in
their turn, incessantly call in the aid of ideas. If virtues exist,
they are explained, and their foundation is sought for in elevated
theories. If crimes are met with, their vindication is attempted on
the authority of perverse theories. Nations do not rest satisfied with
the practice either of good or evil--they strive to propagate it, and
are restless till they have induced their neighbors to imitate them.
Nay, there is something beyond a mere spirit of proselytism limited
to a few countries--ideas, in our times, aim at nothing short of
universal empire. The spirit of propagandism does not date from the
French Revolution, nor even from the sixteenth century; from the very
dawn of civilization, from the times when the minds of men began to
evince symptoms of activity, this phenomenon is apparent, and in a very
striking manner. In the agitated Europe of the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, we behold the Europe of the nineteenth century, just as the
imperfectly defined lineaments of the germ contain forms of the future
being.
A great part of the sects which assailed the Church, dating from the
tenth century, were decidedly revolutionary; they either proceeded
from the fatal democracy which I have just mentioned, or derived
their support from it. Unfortunately this democracy, restless, unjust
and turbulent, having compromised the tranquillity of Europe in the
centuries anterior to the sixteenth, found in Protestantism its most
fervent propagators. Among the numerous sects into which the pretended
reform was immediately divided, some opened the way for it, and others
adopted it as their standard. And what must have been the result
in the political organization of Europe? I will say it candidly:
the disappearance of those political institutions which enabled the
different classes of the state to take part in its affairs, was
inevitable. Now, as it was very difficult for the European people,
considering their character, ideas and customs, to submit for ever to
their new condition, as their predominant inclination must have urged
them to place bounds upon the extension of power, it was natural that
revolutions should ensue; it was natural that future generations should
have to witness great catastrophes, such as the English Revolution of
the seventeenth century and the French Revolution of the eighteenth.
There was a time when it might have been difficult to comprehend these
truths; that time is past. The revolutions in which for some centuries
the different nations of Europe have been successively involved, have
brought within the reach of the least intelligent that social law so
frequently realized, viz. that anarchy leads to despotism, and that
despotism begets anarchy. Never, at any time, in any nation (history
and experience prove the fact), have anti-social ideas been inculcated,
the minds of the people been imbued with the spirit of insubordination
and rebellion, without almost immediately provoking the application
of the only remedy at the command of nations in such conflicts, the
establishment of a very strong government, which justly or unjustly,
legally or not, lifts up its iron arm over every one, and makes all
heads bend under its yoke. To clamor and tumult succeeds the most
profound silence; the people then easily become resigned to their new
condition, for reflection and instinct teach them that although it is
well to possess a certain amount of liberty, the first want of society
is self-preservation.
What was the case in Germany, after the introduction of Protestantism
by a succession of religious revolutions? Maxims destructive of
all society were propagated, factions formed, insurrections took
place; upon the field of battle and upon the scaffolds blood flowed
in torrents; but no sooner did the instinct of social preservation
begin to operate, than, instead of popular forms being established
and taking root, every thing tended towards the opposite extreme.
And was not this the country in which the people had been flattered
by the prospect of unrestrained liberty, of a repartition and even a
community of property; in fine, by the promise of the most absolute
equality in every thing. Yet, in this same country, the most striking
inequality prevailed, and the feudal aristocracy preserved its full
force. In other countries, in which no such hopes of liberty and
equality had been held out, we can scarcely discover the limits which
separated the nobility from the people. In Germany, the nobility still
retained their wealth and their preponderance, were still surrounded by
titles, privileges, and distinctions of every description. In that very
country, in which there were such outcries against the power of kings,
in which the name of king was declared synonymous with tyrant, the most
absolute monarchy was established; and the apostate of the Teutonic
order founded that kingdom of Prussia, from which representative forms
are still excluded.[C] In Denmark, Protestantism was established, and
with it absolute power immediately took deep root; in Sweden we find,
at the very same time, the power of Gustavus established.
[C] When this was written.--Tr.
What was the case in England? Representative forms were not introduced
into that country by Protestantism; they existed centuries before,
as well as in other nations of Europe. But the monarch who founded
the Anglican Church was distinguished for his despotism, and the
Parliament, which ought to have restrained him, was most shamefully
degraded. What idea can we form of the liberty of a country whose
legislators and representatives debased themselves so far as to
declare, that any one obtaining a knowledge of the illicit amours of
the Queen is bound, under pain of high treason, to bring an accusation
against her? What can we think of the liberty of a country, in
which the very men who ought to defend that liberty, cringe with so
much baseness to the unruly passions of the monarch, that they are
not ashamed, in order to flatter the jealousy of the sovereign, to
establish that any young female who should marry a king of England,
should, under a pain of high treason, be compelled before her marriage
to reveal any stain there might be on her virtue? Such ignominious
enactments are certainly a stronger proof of abject servility than
the declaration of that same Parliament, establishing that the mere
will of the monarch should have the force of law. Representative forms
preserved in that country at a time when they had disappeared from
almost every other nation of Europe, were not, however, a guarantee
against tyranny; for the English cannot assuredly boast of the liberty
they enjoyed under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth. Perhaps in
no country in Europe was less liberty enjoyed, in no country were the
people more oppressed under popular forms, in no country did despotism
prevail to a greater extent. If there be anything which can convince
us of these truths, in case the facts already cited should be found
insufficient, it is undoubtedly the efforts made by the English to
acquire liberty. And if the efforts made to shake off the yoke of
oppression are to be regarded as a sure sign of its galling effects,
we are justified in thinking that the oppression under which England
was groaning must have been very severe, since that country has passed
through so long and terrible a revolution, in which so many tears and
so much blood has been shed.
When we consider what has taken place in France, we remark that
religious wars have always given an ascendency to royal power. After
such long agitations, so many troubles and civil wars, we see the reign
of Louis XIV., and we hear that proud monarch exclaim, "_I am the
state._" We have here the most complete personification of the absolute
power which always follows anarchy. Have the European nations had to
complain of the unlimited power exercised by monarchs? have they had
to regret that all the representative forms which could ensure their
liberties perished under the ascendency of the throne? Let them blame
Protestantism for it, which spreading the germs of anarchy all over
Europe, created an imperious, urgent, and inevitable necessity for
centralizing rule, for fortifying royal power: it was necessary to
stop up every source from which dissolvent principles might flow, and
to keep within narrow bounds all the elements which, by contact and
vicinity, were ready to ignite and produce a fatal conflagration.
Every reflecting man will agree with me on this point. Considering the
aggrandizement of absolute power, they will discover in it nothing
but the realization of a fact already long ago everywhere observed.
Assuredly, the monarchs of Europe cannot be compared, either by the
fact of their origin or the character of their measures, to those
despots who, under different titles, have usurped the command of
society at the critical moment when it was near its dissolution; but
it may be said with reason, that the unlimited extent of their power
has been caused by a great social necessity, viz. that of one sole and
forcible authority, without which the preservation of public order was
impossible. We cannot without dismay take a view of Europe after the
appearance of Protestantism. What frightful dissolution! What erroneous
ideas! What relaxation of morals! What a multitude of sects! What
animosity in men's minds! What rage, what ferocity! Violent disputes,
interminable debates, accusations, recriminations without end;
troubles, rebellion, intestine and foreign wars, sanguinary battles,
and atrocious punishments. Such is the picture that Europe presents;
such are the effects of this apple of discord thrown among men who are
brethren. And what was sure to be the result of this confusion, of
this retrograde movement, by which society seemed returning to violent
means, to the tyranny of might over right? The result was sure to be
what it has in fact been: the instinct of preservation, stronger than
the passions and the frenzy of man, was sure to prevail; it suggested
to Europe the only means of self-preservation; royal power, already in
the ascendant, and verging towards its highest point, was sure to end
by attaining it in reality; there to become isolated and completely
separated from the people, and to impose silence on popular passions.
What ought to have been effected by a wise direction of ideas, was
accomplished by the force of a very powerful institution; the vigor
of the sceptre had to neutralize the impulse given to society towards
its ruin. If we consider attentively, we shall find that such is the
meaning of the event of 1680 in Sweden, when that country was subjected
to the fierce will of Charles XI.; such the meaning of the event of
1669 in Denmark, when that nation, wearied with anarchy, supplicated
King Frederick III. to declare the monarchy hereditary and absolute,
which he in fact did; such, in fine, is the meaning of what took place
in Holland in 1747, and of the creation of an hereditary stadtholder.
If we require more convincing examples, we have the despotism of
Cromwell in England after such terrible revolutions, and that of
Napoleon in France after the republic.[37]
CHAPTER LXIV.
STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE THREE SOCIAL ELEMENTS.
When once these three elements of government, monarchy, aristocracy,
and democracy, began each to contend for the ascendency, the most
certain means of securing the victory to monarchy, to the exclusion
of the other two elements, was to drive one of these latter into acts
of turbulence and outrage; for it thus became absolutely necessary to
establish one sole, powerful, unfettered centre of action, that would
be able to awe the turbulent and to insure public order. Now, just
at this time, the position of the popular element was full of hope,
but also beset with dangers; and hence, to preserve the influence
it had already acquired, and to increase its ascendency and power,
the greatest moderation and circumspection were requisite. Monarchy
had already acquired great power, and, having obtained it in part by
espousing the cause of the people against the lords, it came to be
regarded as the natural protector of popular interests. It certainly
had some claims to this title, but no less certainly did it find in
this circumstance a most favorable opportunity for extending its power
to an unlimited degree, at the expense of the rights and liberties of
the people.
There existed a germ of division between the aristocracy and the
commons, which afforded the monarchs an opportunity of curtailing the
rights and powers of the lords, convinced, moreover, as they were, that
any measure tending to such an object would be well received by the
multitude. But, on the other hand, the monarch might rest assured that
the lords would hail with delight any act tending to humble the people,
who already had raised their heads so high when the feudal aristocracy
was to be resisted; and, in this case, if the people committed any
excesses, if they adopted maxims and doctrines subversive of public
order, no one could prevent the monarch from putting a stop to their
proceedings by all possible means. The lords, who were powerful enough
to repress such disorders themselves, would very naturally be glad to
leave such a work to the monarch, fearing lest the people, in their
exasperation against them, might deprive them of their prerogatives,
their honors, their property, and even of their lives; or from the
secret satisfaction they would naturally feel at seeing that rival
power brought down which had recently humbled themselves, and whose
rivalry had been maintained through so many and such ferocious
struggles. In such an undertaking, the lords would naturally bring
the whole weight of their influence to the support of the monarch,
thus taking advantage of the false direction given to the popular
movement to revenge themselves upon the people, whilst veiling their
vengeance under the pretext of public utility. The people, it is true,
possessed various means of defence; but when isolated and opposed to
the throne, they found these means too weak to afford them any hope of
victory. Learning, indeed, was no longer the exclusive patrimony of any
privileged class, but knowledge had not had time to become diffused so
far as to form a public opinion strong enough to exercise any direct
influence upon the affairs of government. The art of printing was
already producing its results, but was not yet sufficiently developed
to produce that rapid and extensive circulation of ideas which has
subsequently been attained. Notwithstanding the efforts everywhere
made at that time to promote the diffusion of knowledge, we need only
understand correctly the nature and character of the knowledge of the
period, to be convinced that neither in substance nor in form was
it calculated to become, to any general extent, the property of the
popular classes. Thanks to the progress of commerce and the arts, there
arose, it is true, a new description of wealth, destined of necessity
to become the patrimony of the people. But commerce and the arts were
then in their infancy, and did not possess either the extent or the
influence which, at a later period, connected them intimately with
every branch of society. Except in some few countries of very little
importance, the position of the merchant and the artizan could not
secure them any great amount of influence of itself.
Considering the course of events, and the elevation which royal power
had acquired on the ruins of feudalism, the only means for restricting
monarchical power, until the democratic element should have acquired
sufficient force to be respected, was the union of the aristocracy
with the people. But such a coalition was not easily to be obtained,
since between the aristocracy and the people there existed so much
animosity and rivalry--a rivalry which, to a certain extent, was
inevitable, owing to the opposition of their respective interests.
We must bear in mind, however, that the nobility were not the only
aristocracy; there was another much more powerful and influential than
they--the clergy. This latter class was at that time possessed of all
the ascendency and influence which both moral and material means can
confer; in fact, besides the religious character, which insured the
respect and veneration of the people, they were possessed, at the same
time, of abundant riches; which easily secured to them, on the one
hand, gratitude and influence; and, on the other, made them feared by
the great, and respected by monarchs. Now, here is one of the leading
mistakes of Protestantism: to crush the power of the clergy at such a
time, was to accelerate the complete victory of absolute monarchy, to
leave the people defenceless, the monarch unrestrained, aristocracy
without a bond of union, without a vital principle; it was to prevent
the three elements--monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy--from uniting
to form a limited government, towards which almost all the European
nations appeared to be inclining. We have already seen that it was
not at that time expedient to isolate the people, for their political
existence was still feeble and precarious; and it is no less evident
that the nobility, as a means of government, ought not to have been
left to themselves. This class, possessing no other vital principle
than that derived from their titles and privileges, were incapable of
resisting the attacks continually aimed at them by the royal power. In
spite of themselves, the nobility were under the necessity of yielding
to the monarch's will, of abandoning their inaccessible castles,
to resort to the sumptuous palaces of kings, and play the part of
courtiers.
Protestantism crushed the power of the clergy, not only in the
countries in which it succeeded in implanting its errors, but also in
others. In fact, where it could not fully introduce itself, its ideas,
when not in open opposition to the Catholic faith, exercised a certain
degree of influence. From that time the power of the clergy lost its
principal support in the political influence of the Popes, for whilst
kings assumed a tone of greater boldness against the pretensions of the
Holy See, the Popes, on their side, that they might give no pretext, no
occasion for the declamations of Protestants, were obliged to act with
great circumspection in every thing relating to temporal affairs. All
this has been regarded as the progress of European civilization,--as
one step towards liberty; however, the rapid sketch which I have just
given of the political condition of that period, clearly proves that,
instead of taking the surest way to the development of representative
forms, the road to absolute monarchy was chosen. Protestantism,
interested in crushing by all possible means the power of the Popes,
exalted that of kings even in spiritual matters. By thus concentrating
in their hands the spiritual and temporal powers, it left the throne
without any sort of counterpoise. By destroying the hope of obtaining
liberty by peaceable means, it led the people to have recourse to
force, and opened the crater of those revolutions which have cost
modern Europe so many tears.
In order that the forms of political liberty should take root and
attain to perfection, they were not to be forced prematurely from
the atmosphere which gave them birth; for in this atmosphere existed
together the monarchical, aristocratical, and popular elements,
all strengthened and directed by the Catholic religion; under the
influence of this same religion, these elements were being gradually
combined, politics were not to be separated from religion. Instead
of regarding the clergy as a fatal element, it was important to look
upon them as a mediator among all classes and powers, ready to calm
the ardor of strife, to place bounds against excess, to prevent the
exclusive preponderance of the monarch, the nobility, or the people.
Whenever powers and interests of different natures are to be combined,
a mediator is essential, or some sort of intervention to prevent
violent shocks; if this mediator does not exist in the very nature of
the circumstances, recourse must be had to the law for the creation
of one. From this it is evident what an evil Protestantism inflicted
upon Europe; since its first act was completely to isolate the temporal
power, to place it in rivalship and hostility to the spiritual, and
to leave no mediator between the monarch and the people. The lay
aristocracy at once lost their political influence; for they had now
lost their force and bond of union, which they derived from their
connection with the ecclesiastical aristocracy. When once the nobles
were reduced to mere courtiers, the power of the throne was entirely
without a counterpoise.
I have said it, and I repeat it, that the strengthening of the royal
power, even at the expense of the rights and liberties of the lords
and of the commons, tended powerfully to the maintenance of public
order, and consequently to the progress of civilization; but, at the
same time, the extreme preponderance obtained by this power is much to
be lamented; and it may be well to reflect, that one of the principal
causes of this preponderance was the removal of the clergy from the
sphere of politics. At the commencement of the sixteenth century, the
question no longer was, whether those numerous castles should be left
standing, from the heights of which proud barons gave the law to their
vassals, and held themselves justified in despising the ordinances of
the monarch; nor whether that long list of communal liberties should be
preserved, which had no connection with each other, which were opposed
to the pretensions of the great, and at the same time embarrassed the
action of the sovereign, by preventing the formation of a central
government capable of insuring order, of protecting legitimate
interests, of giving an impulse to the movement of civilization, which
had everywhere commenced with so much activity. This was no longer
the question; on all sides the castles were being levelled, the great
lords were descending from their fortresses, and becoming more humane
towards the people; they were giving up their exactions, and beginning
to show respect to the power of the monarch; and the commons, obliged
to submit to an amalgamation of the multitude of petty states, to form
extensive monarchies, were forced to part with so much of their rights
and liberties as was opposed to the system of general centralization.
The question was, to discover whether there existed any means of
limiting power, and yet securing to the people the benefits of its
centralization and augmentation; whether it was possible, without
embarrassing or weakening the action of power, to secure to the people
a reasonable amount of influence over the progress of affairs, and,
above all, the right they had already acquired of watching over the
public revenues. That is, at once to prevent the sanguinary horrors
of revolutions, and the abuses and disorders of court favorites. The
people alone were incapable of preserving this influence, unless
they had been furnished with a knowledge of the public affairs; an
indispensable resource in such a case, but of which they were in
general completely destitute. I do not mean to deny the existence of
a certain kind of knowledge amongst the commons; but we must bear
in mind that the term _public affairs_ had acquired an extensive
signification; for it was not merely applied to a municipality or
a province; centralization becoming everywhere more general and
triumphant, caused this term to be applied to whole kingdoms, not
merely considered as isolated, but in the whole of their relations with
other nations. From that time European civilization began to assume
that character of _generality_, which still distinguishes it: from that
time, to understand aright the private affairs of any one kingdom, it
was necessary to look abroad over the whole of Europe, sometimes over
the whole world. Men capable of such elevated views could not be very
common in society; moreover, as the most exalted part of society was
attracted by the splendor of the throne of the monarch, a focus of
intelligence was sure to be formed there, with exclusive pretensions to
the government. Compare with this centre of action and intelligence,
the people alone, still weak and ignorant, and the result may be
easily guessed. Weakness and ignorance never prevailed over force and
intelligence. But, what remedy was there for this difficulty? The
preservation of the Catholic religion all over Europe, and consequently
the influence of the clergy; for it is well known that the clergy were
still considered at this epoch as the centre of learning.
Those who have extolled Protestantism for having weakened the influence
of the Catholic clergy, have not sufficiently reflected upon the
nature of that influence. It would have been difficult to discover at
that epoch a class of citizens connected with the three elements of
power by common interests with each, and yet not exclusively allied
to any. Monarchy had nothing to fear from the clergy. In fact, how
can we imagine that the ministers of a religion regarding power as an
emanation from Heaven would declare themselves the enemies of royal
power, which was acknowledged to be at the head of all others? Neither
had the aristocracy any thing to apprehend on the part of the clergy,
so long as they did not outstep the bounds of reason. The titles, by
virtue of which they claimed the possession of riches, their rights to
a certain degree of consideration and of precedence were not likely to
be combated by a class whose principles and interests were necessarily
favorable to every thing within the bounds of reason, of justice, and
of the laws. The democracy, comprising the generality of the people,
found support and most generous protection in the Church. How could the
Church, which had labored so much to emancipate them from the ancient
slavery, and at a later period from feudal chains, declare herself
the enemy of a class which might be considered as her creature? If
the people experienced an amelioration in their civil condition, it
was owing to the efforts of the clergy; if they acquired political
influence, it was owing to the amelioration of their condition--another
favor obtained through the influence of the clergy; and if the clergy
had any where a sure support, it was natural to look for it in that
popular class which, continually in contact with them, received from
them their inspirations and instructions.
Besides, the Church selected her members indiscriminately from all
classes. To elevate a man to the sacred ministry she required neither
titles of nobility nor riches, and this alone was sufficient to insure
intimate relations between the clergy and the people, and to prevent
the latter from regarding them with aversion and estrangement. Hence
the clergy, united to all classes, were an element perfectly adapted
to prevent the exclusive preponderance of any of these classes, to
maintain all social elements in a certain gentle and productive
fermentation, which in time would have produced and matured a natural
combination. I do not mean to assert that there would not have arisen
differences, disputes, perhaps conflicts, inevitable occurrences so
long as men shall be men; but who does not see that the terrible
effusion of blood in the wars of Germany, in the revolutions of England
and France, would have been impossible? It will be said, perhaps, that
the spirit of European civilization necessarily tended to diminish the
extreme inequality of classes; I grant it, and will even add, that this
tendency was conformable to the principles and maxims of the Christian
religion, continually reminding men of their equality before God,
of their common origin and destination, of the emptiness of honors
and riches, and proclaiming that virtue is the only thing solid upon
earth, the only thing capable of rendering us pleasing in the eyes of
God. But to reform is not to destroy; to cure the disease, we must not
kill the patient. It was deemed better to overthrow at one blow what
might have been corrected by legal means; European civilization having
been corrupted by the fatal innovations of the sixteenth century,
legitimate authority having been disregarded even in matters within its
exclusive sphere, its mild and beneficent action has been replaced by
the disastrous expedients of violence. Three centuries of calamity have
more or less opened the eyes of nations, by teaching them how perilous
it is, even for the success of an enterprise, to confide it to the
cruel hazard of the employment of force; but it is probable that if
Protestantism, like an apple of discord, had not been thrown into the
middle of Europe, all these great social and political questions would,
at the present time, be much nearer being solved in a safe, peaceable,
and certain manner, if, indeed, they had not been already solved long
since.[38]
CHAPTER LXV.
POLITICAL DOCTRINES BEFORE THE APPEARANCE OF PROTESTANTISM.
In matters appertaining to representative government, modern political
science boasts of its great progress: we hear it continually asserting
that the school in which the deputies of the Constituent Assembly
imbibed their lessons was totally ignorant of political constitutions.
Now when we compare the doctrines of the predominating school of the
present day with those of the preceding school, what difference do we
discover between them? On what points do they differ? Where is this
boasted progress?
The school of the eighteenth century said: "The king is the natural
enemy of the people; his power must either be totally destroyed, or at
least so far restrained and limited, that he may only appear with his
hands tied on the summit of the social edifice, merely invested with
the faculty of approving the measures of the representatives of the
people." And what says the modern school, which boasts of its progress,
of the advantage it has derived from experience, and of having hit the
exact point marked out by reason and good sense? "Monarchy," says this
school, "is essential to the great European nations; the attempts at
republicanism made in America, whatever may be their results, require,
as yet, the test of time; besides, they were made under circumstances
very different from those in which we are placed, and consequently,
are not to be imitated by us. The king should not be regarded as the
enemy of the people, but as their father; instead of presenting him to
public view with his hands tied, he should be represented surrounded
with power, grandeur, and even with majesty and pomp; without which it
is impossible for the throne to fulfil the high functions with which
it is invested. The king should be inviolable--not nominally, but
really and effectually, so that his power cannot, under any pretext,
be attacked. He should be placed in a sphere beyond the whirlwind of
passion and party, like a tutelar divinity, a stranger to mean views
and base passions; he ought to be, as it were, the representative of
reason and justice." "Fools," exclaims this school to its adversaries,
"can you not see that it would be better to have no king at all than
such a one as you would have? Your king would always be an enemy to the
constitution, for he would find this constitution always attacking,
embarrassing, restricting, and humiliating him."
We will now compare this progress with the doctrines predominating in
Europe long before the appearance of Protestantism. This comparison
will enable us to show clearly that every thing reasonable, just, and
useful, contained in these doctrines, was already known and generally
propagated in Europe when society was under the exclusive influence of
the Catholic Church.
_A king is essential_, says the modern school; and, thanks to the
influence of the Catholic religion, all the great nations of Europe had
a king: _the king must not be regarded as the enemy, but as the father
of the people_; and he was already called the father of the people:
_the power of the king should be great_; that power was great: _the
king should be inviolable, his person sacred_; his person was sacred,
and his prerogative insured to him by the Church from the earliest
ages, in an august and solemn ceremony, that of his coronation. "The
people are supreme," said the school of the last century; "the law is
the expression of the general will, the representatives of the people
are alone, therefore, invested with legislative faculties; the monarch
cannot resist this will. The laws are submitted to his sanction through
mere formality; if the king refuses this sanction, the laws are to
undergo another examination; but if the will of the representatives of
the people still remains the same, it shall be raised to the dignity
of law; and the monarch who, by the refusal of his sanction, shall show
that he regards this general will as detrimental to the public good,
shall be compelled, at the expense of his dignity and independence, to
give effect to it."
In reply to this, the modern school says: "The supremacy of the
people is either unmeaning, or has a dangerous sense; the law should
not be the expression of will, but of reason; mere will does not
constitute a law; for this purpose, reason, justice, and public
expediency are required." These ideas were general long before the
sixteenth century, not only amongst educated men, but even among the
most simple and ignorant classes. A doctor of the thirteenth century
admirably expressed it in his habitual laconic language: "_It is a
rule dictated by reason, and having the common weal for its aim._"
"Would you," continued the modern school, "have royal power a truth,
you must assign it the first place among legislative powers; you must
entrust it with an absolute _veto_. In the ancient cortes, in the
ancient states-general and parliaments, the king did occupy this place
among the legislative powers; nothing was done without his consent; he
possessed _an absolute veto_."
"Away with classes!" exclaims the Constituent Assembly; "away with
distinctions! The king face to face with the people, directly
and immediately; the rest is an attempt against imprescriptible
rights." "You are rash," replies the modern school; "if there are
no distinctions, they must be created. If there are not in society
classes forming in themselves a second legislative body a mediator
between the king and the people, there must be artificial ones;
through the medium of the law must be created what does not exist in
society; if reality is wanting, recourse must be had to fiction." Now
these classes existed in ancient society, they took part in public
affairs, they were organized as active instruments, they formed the
first legislative bodies. I ask now, whether this parallel does not
show, as clear as the light of day, that what is now termed progress
in matters of government, is, in fact, a true return towards what was
every where taught and practised under the influence of the Catholic
religion before the appearance of Protestantism? In addressing
myself to men endowed with the least intelligence upon social and
political questions, I may assuredly dispense with the differences
which must necessarily result from the two epochs. I grant that the
course of events would of itself have caused important modifications;
political institutions were to be accommodated to the fresh wants
to be satisfied. But I maintain, at the same time, that, so far as
circumstances permitted, European civilization was advancing on the
right road to a better state, containing within itself the means
necessary for reforming without destroying. But for this purpose a
spontaneous development of events was necessary to bear in mind that
the mere action of man is of little avail, that sudden attempts are
dangerous; that the great productions of society are like those of
nature, both requiring an indispensable element, _time_.
There is one fact which appears to me to have been too little reflected
upon, although including the explanation of some strange phenomena
of the last three centuries. This fact is, that Protestantism has
prevented civilization from becoming homogeneous, in spite of a
strong tendency urging all the nations of Europe to homogeneity. The
civilization of the nations without doubt receives its nature and
its characteristics from the principles that have given it life and
movement; now these principles being the same, or very nearly so,
in all the nations of Europe, these nations must have borne a close
resemblance to each other. History and philosophy agree on this
point; therefore, so long as the European nations did not receive
the inculcation of any germ of division, their civil and political
institutions were developed with a very remarkable similarity. True,
certain differences were observable in them, which were the inevitable
consequences of a variety of circumstances; but we see that they
were becoming more and more alike and forming Europe into one vast
whole, of which we can scarcely form a correct idea, accustomed as we
are to ideas of disunion. This homogeneity would have arrived at its
perfection through the effect of the rapidity which the increase and
prosperity of commerce and the arts gave to intellectual and material
communications; the art of printing would have contributed to it more
than anything else, for the ebb and flow of ideas would have dispersed
the inequalities separating the nations one from another.
But unfortunately, Protestantism appeared and separated the European
people into two great families, which, since their division, have
professed a mortal hatred towards each other. This hatred has been the
cause of furious wars, in which torrents of blood have been shed. One
thing yet more fatal than these catastrophies was the germ of civil,
political, and literary schism, introduced into the bosom of Europe
by the absence of religious unity. Civil and political institutions,
and all the branches of learning, had appeared and prospered in Europe
under the influence of religion; the schism was religious; it affected
even the root, and extended to the branches. Thus arose among the
various nations those brazen walls which kept them separate; the spirit
of suspicion and mistrust was everywhere spread; things which before
would have been deemed innocent or without importance, from that time
were looked upon as eminently dangerous.
What uneasiness, disquietude, and agitation must have been the result
of these fatal complications! We may say that in this detestable germ
is contained the history of the calamities with which Europe was
afflicted during the last three centuries. To what may we attribute the
Anabaptist wars in Germany, those of the empire, and the Thirty-years
war; those of the Huguenots in France, and the bloody scenes of the
League; and that profound source of division, that uninterrupted series
of discord, which beginning with the Huguenots, was continued by the
Jansenists, and then by philosophers, terminating in the Convention?
Had England not contained in her bosom that nest of sects engendered
by Protestantism, would she have had to suffer the disasters of a
revolution which lasted so many years? Had Henry VIII. not seceded from
the Catholic Church, Great Britain would not have passed two-thirds of
the sixteenth century in the most atrocious religious persecutions,
and under the most brutal despotism; she would not have been drowned
during the greater part of the seventeenth in torrents of blood, shed
by sectarian fanaticism. Had it not been for Protestantism, would
England have been in the fatal position in which she is placed by the
Irish question, scarcely leaving her a choice between a dismemberment
of the empire and a terrible revolution? Would not nations of brethren
have found the means of coming to an amicable understanding, if, during
the last three centuries, religious discords had not separated them by
a lake of blood? Those offensive and defensive confederations between
nation and nation, which divided Europe into two parties, as inimical
to each other as the Christians to the Mussulmans, that traditional
hatred between the North and the South, that profound separation
between Protestant and Catholic Germany, between Spain and England,
between that country and France, were sure to have an extraordinary
effect in retarding communications between European nations; and what
would have been obtained much sooner by moral means, could only be
obtained by material ones. Steam tends to convert Europe into one vast
city; if men who were one day to live under the same roof hated one
another for three centuries, what was the cause of it? If people's
hearts had been united long before in mutual affection, would not the
happy moment in which they were to join hands have been hastened?
CHAPTER LXVI.
POLITICAL DOCTRINES IN SPAIN.
My explanation of this matter would be incomplete, were I to leave the
following difficulty unresolved: "In Spain, Catholicity has prevailed
exclusively, and under it an absolute monarchy was established, a
sufficient indication that Catholic doctrines are inimical to political
liberty." The great majority of men never look deeply into the real
nature of things, nor pay due attention to the true meaning of words.
Present them with something in strong relief that will make a vivid
impression on their imagination, and they take facts just as they
appear at the first glance, thoughtlessly confounding _causality_ with
_coincidence_. It cannot be denied that the empire of the Catholic
religion _coincided_ in Spain with the final _preponderance_ of
absolute monarchy; but the question is, _Was the Catholic religion
the true cause of this preponderance?_ Was it she that overturned the
ancient cortes, to establish the throne of absolute monarchs on the
ruins of popular institutions?
Before we commence our examination into the cause that destroyed the
influence of the nation on public affairs, it may be well to remind the
reader that in Denmark, Sweden, and Germany, absolutism was established
and upheld in juxtaposition with Protestantism. Hence the argument of
coincidence is very little worth, as, owing to the exact identity of
circumstances in the two cases, it could just as well be proved that
Protestantism leads to absolutism. I will just observe here, that
in my endeavors to demonstrate in the foregoing chapters that the
pseudo-Reformation tended to the overthrow of political liberty, I
have not rested my arguments upon coincidences only, however careful
I may have been to point them out to the reader. I have said that
Protestantism, by diffusing dissolvent doctrines, had occasioned a
necessity for an extension of temporal power; that by destroying the
political influence of the clergy and the Popes, it had destroyed the
equilibrium between the social classes, left no counterpoise to the
throne, and further augmented the power of the monarch, by granting him
ecclesiastical supremacy in Protestant countries, and exaggerating his
prerogatives in Catholic nations.
But we will dismiss these general considerations, and fix our attention
upon Spain. This nation has the misfortune to be one of those that
are least known; its history is not properly studied, nor are sound
views taken of its present condition. Its troubles, its rebellions,
its civil wars, proclaim that it has not yet received its true system
of government, which proves that the nation to be governed is but
imperfectly understood. Its history is, if possible, still less
perfectly understood. The present influence of events already very
remote, works secretly and almost imperceptibly; and hence the eye
of the observer is satisfied with a superficial view of affairs,
and he forms his opinions too hastily--opinions which too often, in
consequence, take the place of facts and reality. In treating of the
causes that have deprived Spain of her political liberty, almost all
authors fix their attention principally or exclusively upon Castile,
giving monarchs infinitely more credit for sagacity than the course
of events would seem to justify. They generally select the war of the
_Communeros_ as their point of view, and, according to certain writers,
but for the defeat at Villalar, the liberties of Spain would have been
forever secure. I admit that the war of the _Communeros_ affords an
excellent point of view for the study of this matter; in fact, the
field of Villalar was in some measure witness to the conclusion of
the drama. Castile should be regarded as the centre of events; and it
is here that the Spanish monarchs gave proof of great sagacity in the
manner in which they brought the enterprise to a close. Nevertheless,
I do not deem it just to give an exclusive preference to one of these
considerations, and it does appear to me that the real state of the
question is generally misconceived: effects are taken for causes,
accessories for principals.
In my opinion, the ruin of free institutions resulted from the
following causes:--1st, the premature and immoderately extensive
development of these institutions; 2dly, the formation of the Spanish
nation out of a successive reunion of very heterogeneous parts, all
possessing institutions extremely popular; 3dly, the establishment of
the centre of power in the middle of the provinces where these forms
were most restricted, and where the authority of the crown was the
greatest; 4thly, the extreme abundance of wealth, the power and the
splendor which the Spanish people saw everywhere around them, and which
lulled them to sleep in the arms of prosperity; 5thly, the exclusively
military position of the Spanish monarchs, whose armies were everywhere
victorious, their military power and prestige being at their height
precisely at the critical time when the quarrel had to be decided. I
will take a rapid view of these causes, although the nature of this
work does not permit me to devote to them the space which the gravity
and importance of the subject demand. The reader will pardon me this
political digression on account of the close connection existing
between this subject and the religious question.
As regards popular forms of government, Spain has been in advance
of all monarchical nations. This is an indubitable fact. In Spain,
these forms received a premature and extreme development; and this
contributed to their ruin, as a child sickens and dies, if, in its
tender years, its growth is too rapid, or its intellect too precocious.
This active spirit of liberty, this multitude of _fueros_ and of
privileges, these impediments everywhere placed in the way of power,
checking the rapidity and energy of its action--this great development
of the popular element, in its very nature restless and turbulent,
existing simultaneously with the wealth, the power, and the pride
of the aristocracy, very naturally gave rise to many commotions.
Elements so numerous, so various, and so opposite to each other, which,
moreover, had not time to be combined so as to form a peaceable and
harmonious whole, were not likely to work tranquilly together. Order is
the prime necessity of society; it is essential to the growth of the
ideas, the manners, and the laws of a nation. Wherever there exists
a germ of continual disorder, how deep soever it may have struck its
roots, it is sure to be extirpated, or at least crushed, so as no
longer to keep public tranquillity in perpetual danger. The municipal
and political organization of Spain had this inconvenience, and hence
an imperative necessity for its modification. But the ideas and the
manners of the time were such, that matters could not be expected to
stop at a simple modification. The system of constituencies, which so
easily creates numerous assemblies, either to enact new fundamental
codes or to reform the old ones, was not then understood as it is in
our days; neither were men's ideas at that time so generalized as to
place them above all that exclusively and particularly relates to a
people, at a point of elevation whence they could no longer observe
every petty local object, but had their attention wholly engrossed
by mankind, society, the nation, or the government. It was not so at
that time: a charter of liberty granted by a king to a city or a town;
an immunity wrested from a feudal lord by his armed vassals; some
privilege obtained in reward of warlike achievements, or sometimes
granted as a recompense for the bravery of a man's ancestors; a
concession to the cortes, made by the monarch in exchange for the grant
of a contribution, or, as it was then termed, of a _service_,--a law or
custom, the antiquity of which lay hidden in the depths of the past, or
confounded with the infancy of monarchy: such, to give a few instances,
were the titles of which they were proud, and which they maintained
with jealous ardor.
Liberty now-a-days is more vague, and sometimes less positive, owing
to the generalization and elevation which men's ideas have assumed;
but then it is far less liable to destruction. Speaking a language
well understood by the people, and appearing as the common cause of
all nations, it awakens universal sympathies, and is in a position to
found more extensive associations as a guarantee against the attacks
of power. The words liberty, equality, rights of man, intervention
of the people in public affairs, ministerial responsibility, public
opinion, liberty of the press, toleration, and other similar ones, do
undoubtedly contain a great diversity of meanings, which it would be
difficult to determine and to classify when we come to make a specific
application of them; and yet these words present to the mind certain
ideas which, although complicated and confused, have a false appearance
of clearness and simplicity. On the other hand, these words represent
certain striking objects that dazzle the mind by their vivid and
flattering colors, and hence they cannot be uttered without exciting
a lively interest; they are understood by the masses, and hence every
self-constituted champion of the ideas they convey is at once regarded
as a defender of the rights of all mankind. But imagine yourself
living among the people of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and
your position will be found very different. Take for your subject the
franchises of Catalonia or of Castile, and address yourself to the
Aragonese, who were so intractable on the subject of their _fueros_,
and you will produce no effect--will not succeed in awakening either
their zeal or their interest; a charter that does not contain the
name of one of their towns or cities is, in their eyes, a thing of
no importance, and foreign to their wishes. This inconvenience,
originating in the ideas of the times, which were naturally confined
to local circumstances, became very great in Spain, where, under the
same sceptre, there was formed an amalgamation of people differing most
widely in their manners, in their municipal and political organization,
and divided, moreover, by rivalries and animosities. In such a state
of things it was comparatively easy to curtail the liberties of one
province without giving umbrage to the others, or exciting their
apprehensions for their own liberties. If, at the period of the
insurrections of the _Communeros_ in Castile against Charles V., there
had existed that communication of ideas and sentiments, and those
lively sympathies, which at the present time unite people together,
the defeat of Villalar would have been a simple defeat and nothing
more; the cry of alarm, resounding throughout Aragon and Castile, would
certainly have given more trouble to the young and ill-advised monarch.
But such was not the case; all the efforts of the people were isolated,
and consequently barren of results. The royal power, proceeding upon a
fixed and steady plan, was able to beat down piecemeal these scattered
forces, and the result was not doubtful. In 1521, Padilla, Bravo, and
Maldonado perished on the scaffold; in 1591, D. Diego de Heredia, D.
Juan de Luna, and the Justiciary himself, D. Antonio de Lanuza, met the
same fate; when, in 1640, the Catalonians rose in insurrection for the
defence of their rights, notwithstanding the manifestos they issued to
attract supporters, they found no one to assist them. There were then
no flying sheets, coming every morning to fix the attention of the
people upon all sorts of questions, and to stir up alarm at the least
appearance of danger to their liberties. The people, warmly attached
to their customs and usages, satisfied with the nominal confirmations
which their monarchs were daily giving to their _fueros_, proud also of
the respect shown to their ancient liberties, were little aware that
they were confronted by a sagacious adversary, who never resorted to
force but to effect a decisive blow, yet constantly held his powerful
arm ready to crush them. An attentive study of the history of Spain
will show that the concentration of the whole governing power in the
hands of the monarch, to the exclusion, as far as was possible, of
popular influence, dates from the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. Nor
is this surprising; for there was then a greater necessity for such
a course, and it could be more easily adopted. There was a greater
necessity; for, from that time, the action of government began to
extend from one common center over the whole of Spain, the various
portions of which differed so widely in their laws, their manners, and
their customs; hence the central action naturally felt more sensibly
the embarrassment occasioned by so great a diversity of cortes, of
municipalities, of codes, and of privileges; and, as every government
wishes its action to be rapid and efficacious, the idea of simplifying,
uniting, and centralizing their power naturally took possession of the
kings of Spain. It is, in fact, easy to understand that a monarch at
the head of numerous armies, with magnificent fleets at his disposal,
who had, on a hundred occasions, humbled his most powerful foes, and
won the respect of foreign nations, would not like to be continually
going to preside over the cortes in Castile, in Aragon, in Valencia,
and in Catalonia. It would undoubtedly cost him dear to be constantly
repeating the oath binding him to protect the rights and liberties of
his subjects, and listening to the perpetual strain re-echoed in his
ears by the _procuradores_ of Castile, and the _brazos_ of Aragon,
Valencia, and Catalonia. It was hard for him to be obliged humbly to
solicit from the cortes assistance for the expenses of the state,
and particularly for almost continual wars. If he submitted to this,
it was only from the dread of those resolute men, real lions in the
battle-field when fighting in defence of their religion, their country,
and their king, and who would have fought with no less intrepidity in
their streets and houses, had an attempt been made to despoil them of
those rights and franchises which they inherited from their forefathers.
The union of the crowns of Aragon and Castile alone so far prepared
the way for the ruin of popular institutions, that it followed almost
necessarily. From that time, in fact, the throne had obtained too great
a preponderance for the _fueros_ of the kingdoms recently united to
oppose it with success. To imagine the existence at that period of a
political power capable of resisting the crown, we must suppose all the
assemblies held from time to time in the different kingdoms under the
name of cortes united into one grand national representative body, with
a power analogous to that of the king; we must suppose this central
assembly actuated by a zeal equal to that of the ancient assemblies for
the preservation of their _fueros_ and privileges, ready to sacrifice
all their rivalries to the public good, and advancing towards their
object with a firm step, in one compact mass, and never giving an
advantage to their adversary. In other words, we must suppose what was
utterly impossible at that period; impossible, on account of the ideas,
the habits, and the rivalries of the people; impossible, at a time when
the people were incapable of comprehending the question in so lofty a
sense; impossible, owing to the resistance which it would have met with
from the monarchs; to the embarrassment and complication, arising from
the municipal, social, and political organization. In a word, it was
something impossible to effect or even to conceive.
Every circumstance was in favor of the aggrandizement of the royal
power. The monarch being no longer merely king of Aragon or of Castile,
but of Spain, the ancient kingdoms dwindled into insignificance before
the majesty and the splendor of the throne, and sank by degrees to
the rank which alone suited them, that of provinces. From that moment
the action of the monarch became more extensive and complicated,
and consequently he could not come so frequently into contact with
his vassals. The celebration of the cortes in each of the recently
united kingdoms, would have occasioned long delays; for the king was
oftentimes engaged at another part of the empire. When sedition was to
be chastised, abuses to be checked, or excesses to be repressed, he
was no longer obliged to have recourse to the forces of the particular
kingdom in which these things occurred, as he could employ the arms
of Castile to subdue insurrection in the kingdom of Aragon, and
those of Aragon to put down the rebels of Castile. Grenada lay at
his feet; Italy yielded to one of his victorious captains; in his
fleet was Columbus, who had just discovered a new world; under these
circumstances, it was in vain to listen for the murmurs of the cortes
and of _ayuntamientos_,--these were no longer heard, they had totally
disappeared.
Had the national manners had a peaceable tendency, had not Spain been
habituated to war, democratic institutions would probably have been
preserved with less difficulty. Had the attention of the people been
fixed exclusively upon their municipal and political affairs, they
would have better understood their real interests; kings themselves
would not have been so ready to rush into war, and the throne would
in some degree have lost the prestige it obtained from the splendor
and success of its armies; the administration would not have been
imbued with that blunt harshness for which military habits are always
more or less remarkable; and the ancient _fueros_ would thus have
more easily retained some consideration. But precisely at that period
Spain was the most warlike nation in the world; it was in its element
on the battle-field; seven centuries of combats had made it a nation
of soldiers. Its recent victories over the Moors; the exploits of its
armies in Italy; the discoveries of Columbus; every thing, in fine,
contributed to its exaltation, and to inspire it with that spirit of
chivalry which, for so long a time, was one of its distinguishing
characteristics. It was necessary for the king to be a captain; and
he was certain to captivate the minds of Spaniards, so long as he won
renown by brilliant feats of arms. Now, arms are the bane of popular
institutions. After a victory on the field of battle, the order and
discipline of the camp are usually transferred to the city.
From the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, the throne rose to such a
height of power that liberal institutions were almost lost sight of.
The people and the grandees, it is true, reappeared upon the scene
after the death of Isabella; but this was entirely owing to the
misunderstanding between Ferdinand the Catholic and Philip le Bel,
which impaired the unity, and consequently the strength of the throne;
and hence, as soon as these circumstances disappeared, the throne again
resumed its full preponderance, and that not only during the last
days of Ferdinand, but even under the regency of Ximenes. The men of
Castile, exasperated by the excesses of the Flemish, and encouraged
perhaps by the hope, that the rule of a young monarch would be, as it
usually is, only feeble, again raised their voices; their remonstrances
and complaints speedily ended in commotions and in open insurrection.
Notwithstanding many circumstances highly favorable to the
_Communeros_, and the probability that their conduct would be followed
by all the provinces of the monarchy, we find that the insurrection,
although considerable, did not assume either the importance or extent
of a national movement; a great portion of the Peninsula preserved a
strict neutrality, and the rest inclined to the cause of monarchy. If
I am not mistaken, this fact indicates that the throne had already
obtained an immense prestige, and was regarded as the highest and most
powerful institution. The entire reign of Charles V. was extremely well
calculated to perfect this beginning. Commenced under the auspices of
the battle of Villalar, this reign continued through an uninterrupted
series of wars, in which the treasures and the blood of Spain were
spent with incredible profusion in all the countries of Europe,
Africa, and America. The nation was not allowed time even to think of
its affairs: almost always deprived of the presence of its king, it
had become a province at the disposal of the Emperor of Germany, the
ruler of Europe. True, the cortes of 1538 boldly gave Charles a severe
lecture instead of the succor he demanded. But it was already too
late; the clergy and the nobility were expelled from the cortes, and
the representation of Castile was restricted for the future to the
_procuradores_ alone; that is, it was doomed to be no more than the
shadow of what it had been--a mere instrument of the royal will.
Much has been said against Philip II.; but, in my opinion, this monarch
merely kept his place, and allowed things to take their natural course.
The crisis was already past; the question already decided; the Spanish
nation could not regain its lost influence, save by the regenerating
action of centuries. Still, we must not imagine that absolute power
was so fully and completely established as to leave not a vestige of
ancient liberty; but this liberty could do nothing from its asylum in
Aragon and Catalonia against the giant that held it in check from the
midst of a country entirely subject to his sway, from the capital of
Castile. The monarchs might probably, by one bold and heavy blow, have
struck down every thing that opposed them; but whatever probabilities
of success they had in the vast means at their disposal, they were very
careful not to make the attempt, but left the inhabitants of Navarre,
the subjects of the crown of Aragon, in the tranquil enjoyment of
their franchises, rights, and privileges. At the same time, they were
careful to prevent the contagion spreading to the other provinces. By
means of partial attacks, and more especially by leading the people to
allow their ancient liberties to fall into desuetude, they gradually
diminished their zeal for them, and insensibly brought them to a habit
of tamely bending under the action of a central power.[39]
CHAPTER LXVII.
POLITICAL LIBERTY AND RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE.
In the sketch I have here drawn, the rigorous accuracy of which no
one can question, we have not discovered any thing like oppression
in Catholicity, nor any alliance between the clergy and the throne
for the destruction of liberty: what we _have_ discovered is merely
the regular and natural order of things,--a successive development of
events contained in each other, as the plant is contained in the germ.
As for the Inquisition, I think I have said enough respecting it in
the chapters that treat of it: in this place I will merely observe,
that it was not a political instrument in the hands of kings, ready
to be used at their beck. Religion was its object; and as we have
seen, far from losing sight of this object to suit the wishes of the
sovereign, it unhesitatingly condemned the doctrines that would have
unjustly extended the powers of the monarch. Shall I be told, that the
Inquisition was in its very nature intolerant, and consequently opposed
to the growth of liberty? I answer, that toleration, as now understood,
had at that time no existence in any European country. Besides, it was
under the direct and full influence of religious intolerance that the
people were emancipated, municipalities organized, the system of large
representative assemblies established, which, under different names,
and more or less directly, interfered in public affairs.
Men's ideas were not yet so far perverted as to lead them to believe
that religion was favorable and conducive to the oppression of the
people; on the contrary, we observe in the hearts of these people a
vehement desire for liberty and progress, whilst at the same time they
clung with enthusiasm to a faith, in the sight of which it appeared to
them just and salutary to refuse toleration to any doctrine at variance
with the teaching of the Church of Rome. Unity of faith does not fetter
the people--does not impede their movements in any direction--as well,
indeed, might it be said, that the mariner is fettered by the compass
that guides him in safety through the wide expanse of waters. Was the
ancient unity of European civilization wanting in grandeur, in variety,
or in beauty? Did Catholic unity, presiding over the destinies of
society, arrest its progress, even in the ages of barbarism? Let us
fix our eyes upon the grand and delightful spectacle exhibited in the
centuries preceding the sixteenth, and pause a moment to reflect; we
shall all the better understand in what manner Protestantism has given
a wrong direction to the course of civilization.
The immense agitation occasioned by the gigantic enterprise of the
Crusades shows in what a state of fermentation were the elements
deposited in the bosom of society. The shock excited them to
activity--union augmented their force--every where, and in every sense,
was to be seen a vigorous and active movement, a sure presage of the
high degree of civilization and refinement which Europe was about to
attain. The arts and sciences, as if called into life by some powerful
voice, reappeared, loudly asserting their claim to protection and an
honorable reception. On the feudal castles, those heirlooms of the
manners of the period of conquest, a ray of light suddenly gleamed,
that illuminated with the rapidity of lightning all climates and all
people. Those masses of men, who had hitherto bent in painful toil
for the benefit of their masters, now lifted up their heads, and,
with bold hearts and enfranchised lips, demanded a share in social
advantages. Addressing each other with a look of intelligence, they
combined together, and insisted in common that the law should be
substituted for caprice. Then towns sprang up, increased in size and
importance, and were surrounded with ramparts; municipal institutions
arose, and began to develop themselves; kings, till then the sport of
the pride, ambition or stubbornness of the feudal lords, seized upon
an opportunity so favorable, and made common cause with the people.
Threatened with destruction, feudalism entered valiantly into the
contest, but in vain; and, restrained by a power even more irresistible
than the weapons of its adversaries, and, as if oppressed by the air
it breathed, it felt its action impeded, its energies enfeebled, and,
despairing of victory, it gave itself up to the enjoyment to be found
in the patronage of the arts.
To the coat of mail now succeeded elegance of dress; to the powerful
shield, the pompous escutcheon; to the bearing and address of the
warrior, the manners of the courtier:--thus was the whole power of
feudalism undermined; the popular element was left completely at
liberty to develop itself; and the powers of monarchs became every
day more extensive. Royalty thus strengthened, municipal institutions
in full vigor, and feudalism undermined, the remnants of barbarism
and oppression still existing in the laws fell one by one beneath
the attacks of so many adversaries; and, for the first time in the
world's history, there was seen a considerable number of great nations
presenting the peaceful spectacle of many millions of men living in
social union, and enjoying together the rights of men and of citizens.
Until this period, public tranquillity, and even the very existence
of society, had to be secured by carefully excluding from the working
of the political machine a great number of individuals by means of
slavery--a system that proved at once the intrinsic inferiority and
weakness of the governments of antiquity. The Christian religion,
with the courage inspired by the consciousness of strength, and with
an ardent love for humanity, had never doubted that she held in her
hands other means of restraining men than a recourse to degradation
and violence, and had, in fact, resolved the problem in a manner the
most noble and generous. She had said to society: "Dost thou dread this
immense multitude, that have no sufficient titles to thy confidence? I
will stand security for them. Thou enslavest them; thou puttest chains
around their necks; I will subdue their hearts. Leave them free; and
this multitude, before which thou tremblest as before a herd of wild
beasts, will become a class of men serviceable to themselves and to
thee." This voice had been heard, and all men were freed from the yoke
of slavery--all entered upon this noble struggle, which was to place
society in equilibrium, without destroying or shaking its foundations.
We have already said above, that there existed powerful adversaries.
Shocks more or less violent were inevitable; but there was no cause for
anticipating any serious catastrophe, unless some fatal combination of
circumstances arose to overthrow the only power capable of moderating
the inflamed, and sometimes exasperated, passions of men--to impose
silence upon that powerful voice, ever ready to say to the combatants,
_That is enough_. That voice--the voice of Christianity--might have
been heard with greater or less docility; but it would always have
sufficed to calm down the fury of the passions, to moderate the
fierceness of their conflicts, and thus to prevent scenes of bloodshed.
If we take a glance at Europe at the end of the fifteenth and beginning
of the sixteenth centuries, with a view to discover the social
elements, whose struggle seemed likely to disturb public tranquillity,
we shall find the power of the throne already far superior to that of
the lords and of the people; we shall see it endeavoring to please its
rivals, lending its aid to one for the subjugation of the others: but
already this power was evidently indestructible. Held more or less
in check by the proud remnants of feudalism, and by the ever-growing
and encroaching power of the people, monarchy nevertheless maintained
its position as a central force for the protection of society against
violence and excess. This tendency was so strong, that we every
where meet with the same phenomenon, manifested with more or less
distinctness, and with characters of greater or less identity. The
nations of Europe were great both in numbers and extent; the abolition
of slavery gave a sanction to the principle, that man ought to live
free in the midst of society, enjoying its most essential advantages,
and with sufficient room to enable him to take a more or less elevated
rank, according to the means he employs to gain it. Thus society had
said to each individual: "I acknowledge thee as a man and a citizen;
from this moment I guarantee to thee the possession of these titles. If
thou desirest to lead a quiet life in the bosom of thy family--labor
and be careful; no one shall wrest from thee the rewards of thy labors,
nor trammel the free exercise of thy faculties. Dost thou aspire to
the possession of wealth--consider how others have acquired it, and
display a similar activity and intelligence. Art thou ambitious of
fame, of rising to an elevated rank, to splendid titles--the sciences
and the military profession are before thee. If thou hast inherited an
illustrious name, thou mayest still increase its lustre; if thou art
not in possession of such a name, thou art free to acquire one."
Such was the condition of the social problem at the end of the
fifteenth century. Every thing was made public, all the great means
of action were openly developing themselves with rapidity; the art
of printing already transmitted men's thoughts from one end of the
world to the other with the speed of lightning, and insured their
preservation for the benefit of future generations. The frequent
intercourse between nations, the revival of literature and the arts,
the cultivation of the sciences, the inclination for travelling and
commerce, the discovery of a new passage to the East Indies, the
discovery of America, the preference given to political negotiations
for effecting the arrangements of international relations,--every thing
combined to give to the minds of men that strong impulse, that shock
which at once arouses and develops all their faculties, and gives new
life. It is difficult to understand by what process of reasoning,
in the face of facts so positive and certain,--facts that stand so
prominently forward in every page of history, any man could ever
seriously maintain that Protestantism aided human progress. If previous
to Luther's reform society had been found stationary, and still
submerged in the chaos into which it had been plunged by the irruptions
of the barbarians; if the people had not succeeded, previously to that
reform, in forming themselves into great nations, and in providing
themselves with systems of government more or less perfectly organized,
but all unquestionably superior to any that had hitherto existed,--the
assertion might carry with it a degree of plausibility, or, at all
events, it would not stand, as it unfortunately does, in direct
opposition to the most authentic and notorious facts. But what, on
the contrary, was the actual state of Europe at the time of Luther's
appearance? The administration of justice, exercised with more or less
perfection, already possessed a highly moral, rational, and equitable
system of legislation for the guidance of its decisions; the people
had in great part shaken off the yoke of feudalism, and had acquired
abundant resources for the preservation and defence of their liberties;
the executive had made immense progress, owing to the establishment,
extension, and amelioration of municipalities; the royal authority,
enlarged, fortified, and consolidated, formed in the midst of society
a central force powerful to work good, to prevent evil, to restrain
the passions, to preserve the balance of interests, to prevent ruinous
social contests, and to watch over the general welfare of society by
constant protection and effectual encouragement; in fine, at that
period, nations were seen to fix a look of great foresight and sagacity
on the rock upon which the vessel of society is in danger of being
wrecked, whenever the power of royalty is left without any sort of
counterpoise. Such was already the condition of Europe before the
religious revolution of the sixteenth century.
I promptly concede that great progress has been made since that period
in all matters of a social, political and administrative nature;
but does it follow that this progress is owing to the Protestant
Reformation? To prove that it is, it would be necessary to produce
two societies absolutely similar in position and circumstances, but
separated by a long space of time, that would render all reciprocal
influence between them impossible, and subjected, one to the influence
of the Catholic, the other to the Protestant principle; then each of
the two religions might come forward and say to the world, "This is my
work." But it is absurd to compare, as is often done, times so widely
different, circumstances so utterly dissimilar and exceptional with
ordinary cases; it should also be remembered, that, in every thing,
the first step is always the most difficult, and the greatest merit
is always due to invention; in a word, after so many other violations
of the rules of logic, our opponents should not obstinately persist
in deducing from one single fact all other facts, simply because the
latter happen to be posterior to the former, otherwise they will fall
under suspicion of insincerity in their search after truth, and of a
wish to falsify history.
The organization of European society, such as Protestantism found it,
was, assuredly not perfect, but it was, at all events, as perfect as
was possible. Unless Providence had vouchsafed to govern the world
by prodigies, Europe, at this period, could not have attained to a
more advantageous position. The elements of progress, of happiness,
of civilization and refinement, were in her bosom; they were numerous
and powerful; time was developing them by degrees in a manner truly
wonderful; and as mournful experience is every day lessening the
prestige and credit of destructive doctrines, the time is perhaps not
far distant, when philosophers, examining dispassionately this period
of history, will agree that society had even then received the most
fortunate impulse. It will be seen that Protestantism, by giving a
wrong direction to the march of society, only precipitated it upon
a perilous route, where it has been on the brink of ruin; and would
perhaps have been ruined altogether, had not the hand of the Most
High been stronger than the feeble arm of man. Protestants boast of
having rendered great service to society by having destroyed in some
countries, and impaired in others, the power of the Popes. As regards
the Papal supremacy in relation to matters of faith, what I have
elsewhere said will suffice to demonstrate the disastrous consequences
of the exercise of private judgment; as to discipline, I am unwilling
to enter upon questions that would indefinitely extend the limits of
this work. I will merely ask my opponents, whether they deem it prudent
to leave a society co-extensive with the world without a legislator,
without a judge, without an arbitrator, without a counsellor, without a
chief?
_Temporal power._--This term has long been the bugbear of kings--the
watchword of the anti-Catholic party--a snare into which many upright
men have fallen--a butt for the shafts of discontented statesmen,
disappointed writers, and snarling canonists; and nothing more natural,
seeing that the subject afforded them an opportunity of pouring
out their resentments, and of giving currency to their suspicious
doctrines, well assured that, by affecting zeal for the power of the
monarch, they would find, in case of danger, a ready asylum in the
palaces of kings. The present is not the place for the discussion of
a question that has been the subject of so many vehement and learned
disputes; and it would be the more inopportune, as, in the existing
state of things, assuredly no power apprehends the least temporal
usurpation on the part of the Holy See, which, whatever its enemies
may say, has evinced at all times, and even humanly speaking, more
prudence, tact, patience, and wisdom than any other power upon earth;
and amidst the extreme difficulties of modern times, has taken up a
position that enables it to yield to the various exigencies of the
times without any compromise of its high dignity, without any deviation
from its sublime obligations. It is certain that the temporal power of
the Popes had risen in the course of time to such a height, that the
successor of St. Peter had become a universal counsellor, arbitrator,
and judge, from whose sentence it was dangerous to appeal, even in
purely political matters. The general movement throughout Europe had
somewhat weakened this power; but yet, at the moment when Protestantism
made its appearance, it still had such an ascendency over the minds of
men, it commanded so much veneration and respect, and was possessed of
such vast means for defending its rights, enforcing its pretensions,
supporting its decisions, and making its counsels respected, that the
most powerful monarchs of Europe considered it a very serious matter
to have the Court of Rome opposed to them in any affair whatever; and
consequently they eagerly sought on all occasions, to secure its favor
and friendship. Rome had thus become a general centre of negotiation,
and no affair of importance could escape its influence.
Such have been the outcries raised against the colossal power, against
this pretended usurpation of rights, that one might suppose the
Popes to have been a succession of deep conspirators, who, by their
intrigues and artifices, aimed at nothing short of universal monarchy.
As our opponents plume themselves on their spirit of observation
and historical analysis, I felt it necessary to observe, that the
temporal power of the Popes was strengthened and extended at a time
when no other power was as yet really constituted. To call that
power usurpation therefore, is not merely an inaccuracy--it is an
anachronism. In the general confusion brought upon all European society
by the irruptions of the barbarians, in that strange medley of races,
laws, manners, and traditions, there remained only one solid foundation
for the structure of the edifice of civilization and refinement,
only one luminous body to shine upon the chaos, only one element
capable of giving life to the germ of regeneration that lay buried in
blood-stained ruins--Christianity, predominant over and annihilating
the remains of other religions, arose, in this age of desolation, like
a solitary column in the center of a ruined city, or like a bright
beacon amid darkness.
Barbarians, and proud of their triumphs as they were, the conquering
people bowed their heads beneath the pastoral staff that governs the
flock of Jesus Christ. The spiritual pastors, a body of men quite new
to these barbarians, and speaking a lofty and divine language, obtained
over the chiefs of the ferocious hordes from the north a complete
and permanent ascendency, which the course of ages could not destroy.
Such was the foundation of the temporal power in the Church; and it
will be easily conceived that as the Pope towered above all the other
pastors in the ecclesiastical edifice, like a superb cupola above the
other parts of a magnificent temple, his temporal power must have risen
far higher than that of ordinary bishops; and must also have had a
deeper, more solid, and more lasting foundation. All the principles
of legislation, all the foundations of society, all the elements of
intellectual culture, all that remained of the arts and sciences, all
was in the hands of religion; and all very naturally sought protection
from the pontifical throne, the only power acting with order, concert,
and regularity, and the only one that offered any guarantee for
stability and permanence. Wars succeeded to wars, convulsions to
convulsions, the forms of society were continually changing; but the
one great, general, and dominant fact, the stability and influence of
religion, remained still the same: and it is ridiculous in any man to
declaim against a phenomenon so natural, so inevitable, and, above
all, so advantageous, designating it, "A succession of usurpations of
temporal power."
Power, ere it can be usurped, must exist; and where, I pray, did
temporal power then exist? Was it in kings?--the sport, and frequently
the victims of the haughty barons? In the feudal lords?--continually
engaged in contests amongst themselves, with kings, and with the
people? In fine, was it in the people?--a troop of slaves, who, thanks
to the efforts of religion, were slowly working out their freedom?
The people, it is true, united against the lords--they raised their
voices to demand protection from the monarch, or to solicit the aid
of the Church against the vexations and outrages inflicted on them by
both; still, however, they as yet formed but an unorganized embryo of
society, without any fixed rule, without government, and without laws.
Could we honestly compare modern times with these? Could we apply to
these bygone ages restrictions and distinctions of authority that are
admissible only in a state of society in which the elements of life
and civilization have been developed, in which solid and permanent
foundations have been laid, in which, consequently, the functions of
social authority could be, and have in effect been, regulated, after
a minute analysis of the limits of their respective jurisdictions? To
reason otherwise, would be to seek order in chaos, smoothness on the
surface of a tempest-tossed ocean. We should not forget, either, a
general and unvarying fact, founded on the very nature of things,--a
fact, moreover, to which the history of all times and all countries is
continually calling our attention, and which has received a striking
confirmation from the revolutions of modern times,--viz. that whenever
society is deeply diseased, there is always at hand a principle of life
to stay the progress of the malady. A contest takes place--collisions
occur one after another--they become more frequent and more violent;
but ultimately the principle of order prevails over that of disorder,
and continues long afterwards to predominate in society. This principle
may be more or less just, more or less rational, more or less violent,
more or less adequate to attain its object; but whatever it be in these
respects, it always prevails in the end, unless, during the struggle,
another, a better and more powerful principle takes its place.
Now, in the middle ages, this principle was the Christian Church. She
alone could be this principle, for she had truth in her doctrines,
justice in her laws, and regularity and prudence in her government.
She was the only element of life that existed at this period--the only
depository of the grand idea upon which the reorganization of society
depended; and this idea was not vague and abstract, but positive and
practicable, for it proceeded from the lips of Him whose word calls
forth worlds out of nothing, and makes light to shine forth in the
midst of darkness. When once the sublime doctrines of the Church
had penetrated into the heart of society, her pure, fraternal, and
consoling morality necessarily influenced its manners. Forms of
government also, and systems of legislation were, in like manner,
more or less affected by her mild and powerful influence. These are
facts--undeniable facts. Now, the Roman Pontiffs were the center of
this happy preponderance which religion so legitimately obtained and so
justly deserved; hence it is clear that the power of the Holy See very
naturally rose above all other powers.
After having contemplated this sublime picture, drawn from the plain
and authentic records of history, why dwell on the defects or the vices
of some few individuals? Why drag to light the excesses, the errors,
the disorders ever incident to humanity? Why maliciously seek out facts
through a long succession of obscure ages, collecting them together
and placing them in a light most calculated to make an impression, and
to mislead the ignorant? Why, in fine, urge, exaggerate, disfigure,
and paint these facts in the darkest possible colors? To do so, is
to betray a very shallow understanding of the philosophy of history,
a spirit of great partiality, low views, grovelling sentiments,
and miserable spleen. It should be loudly proclaimed to the whole
world, and a thousand times repeated, that it may never be forgotten,
that limits which have no existence cannot be respected--that to
create power is not to usurp it--that to make laws is not to violate
them--that to reduce to order the chaos in which society is overwhelmed
is not to disturb society. Now this was the work of the Church--this is
what was done by the Popes.[40]
CHAPTER LXVIII.
UNITY IN FAITH NOT ADVERSE TO POLITICAL LIBERTY.
The supposed incompatibility of unity in faith with political liberty
is an invention of the irreligious philosophy of the last century.
Whatever political opinions be adopted, it is of extreme importance
that we be on our guard against such a doctrine. We must not forget
that the Catholic religion occupies a sphere far above all forms of
government--she does not reject from her bosom either the citizen
of the United States, or the inhabitant of Russia, but embraces all
men with equal tenderness, commanding all to obey the legitimate
governments of their respective countries. She considers them all as
children of the same father, participators in the same redemption,
heirs to the same glory. It is very important to bear in mind that
irreligion allies itself to liberty or to despotism, according as
its interests incline; lavish of its applause when an infuriated
populace are burning temples and massacring the ministers of the
altar, it is ever ready to flatter monarchs, to exaggerate their
power beyond measure, whenever they win its favor by despoiling the
clergy, subverting discipline, and insulting the Pope. Caring little
what instruments it employs, provided it accomplishes its work, it
is royalist when in a position to sway the minds of kings, to expel
the Jesuits from France, from Spain, from Portugal, to pursue them to
the four quarters of the globe without allowing them either respite
or repose; liberal in the midst of popular assemblies that exact
sacrilegious oaths from the clergy, and send into exile or to the
scaffold the ministers of religion who remain faithful to their duty.
The man who cannot see that what I have advanced is strictly true,
must have forgotten history, and paid little attention to very recent
occurrences. With religion and morality, all forms of government are
good; without them, none can be good. An absolute monarch, imbued
with religious ideas, surrounded by counsellors of sound doctrines,
and reigning over a people amongst whom the same doctrines prevail,
may make his subjects happy, and will be sure to do so as far as
circumstances of time and place permit. A wicked monarch, or one
surrounded by wicked counsellors, will do mischief in proportion to
the extent of his powers; he will be even more to be dreaded than
revolution itself, because better able to arrange his plans, and to
carry them out more rapidly, with fewer obstacles, a greater appearance
of legality, more pretensions to public utility, and consequently
with more certainty of success and of permanent results. Revolutions
have undoubtedly done great injury to the Church; but persecuting
monarchs have done equally as much. A freak of Henry VIII. established
Protestantism in England; the cupidity of certain other princes
produced a like result in the nations of the north; and in our own
days, a decree of the Autocrat of Russia drives millions of souls into
schism. It follows that an unmixed monarchy, if it be not religious, is
not desirable; for irreligion, immoral in its nature, naturally tends
to injustice, and consequently to tyranny. If irreligion be seated
on an absolute throne, or if she hold possession of the mind of its
occupant, her powers are unlimited; and, for my part, I know nothing
more horrible than the omnipotence of wickedness.
In recent times, European democracy has signalized itself lamentably
by its attacks upon religion; a circumstance which, far from favoring
its cause, has injured it extremely. We can indeed form an idea of a
government more or less free, when society is virtuous, moral, and
religious; but not when these conditions are wanting. In the latter
case, the only form of government that remains is despotism, the rule
of force, for force alone can govern men who are without conscience
and without God. If we attentively consider the points of difference
between the revolution of the United States and that of France, we
shall find that one of the principal points of difference consists
in this, that the American revolution was essentially democratic,
that of France essentially impious. In the manifestos by which the
former was inaugurated, the name of God, of Providence, is every where
seen; the men engaged in the perilous enterprise of shaking off the
yoke of Great Britain, far from blaspheming the Almighty, invoke his
assistance, convinced that the cause of independence was the cause of
reason and of justice. The French began by deifying the leaders of
irreligion, overthrowing altars, watering with the blood of priests the
temples, the streets, and the scaffolds--the only emblem of revolution
recognized by the people is Atheism hand in hand with liberty. This
folly has borne its fruits--it communicated its fatal contagion to
other revolutions in recent times--the new order of things has been
inaugurated with sacrilegious crimes; and the proclamation of the
rights of man was begun by the profanation of the temples of Him from
whom all rights emanate.
Modern demagogues, it is true, have only imitated their predecessors
the Protestants, the Hussites, the Albigenses; with this difference,
however, that in our days irreligion has manifested itself openly, side
by side with its companion, the democracy of blood and baseness; whilst
the democracy of former times was allied with sectarian fanaticism.
The dissolving doctrines of Protestantism rendered a stronger power
necessary, precipitated the overthrow of ancient liberties, and obliged
authority to hold itself continually on the alert, and ready to strike.
When the influence of Catholicity had been enfeebled, the void had to
be filled up by a system of espionage and force. Do not forget this,
you who make war upon religion in the name of liberty; do not forget
that like causes produce like effects. Where moral influences do not
exist, their absence must be supplied by physical force: if you take
from the people the sweet yoke of religion, you leave governments no
other resource than the vigilance of police, and the force of bayonets.
Reflect, and choose. Before the advent of Protestantism, European
civilization, under the ægis of the Catholic religion, was evidently
tending towards that general harmony, the absence of which has
rendered necessary an excessive employment of force. Unity of faith
disappeared, opening the way to an unrestrained liberty of opinion and
religious discord; the influence of the clergy was in some countries
destroyed, in others weakened: thus was the equilibrium between
different classes put an end to, and the class naturally destined
to fill the office of mediator rendered powerless. By abridging the
power of the Popes, both people and governments were let loose from
that gentle curb which restrained without oppressing, and corrected
without degrading; kings and people were arrayed against each other,
without any body of men possessed of authority to interpose between
them in case of a conflict; without a single judge, who, the friend
of both parties, and disinterested in the quarrel, might have settled
their differences with impartiality, governments began to place their
reliance upon standing armies, and the people upon insurrections.
And it is of no avail to allege that in countries where Catholicity
prevailed, a political phenomenon arose similar to that which we
observe in Protestant nations; for I maintain that amongst Catholics
themselves events did not follow the course which they naturally would
have followed, had not the fatal Reformation intervened. To attain
its complete development, European civilization required the unity
from which it had sprung; it could not by any other means establish
harmony amongst the diverse elements which it sheltered in its bosom.
Its homogeneity was gone the moment unity of faith disappeared. From
that hour no nation could adequately effect its organization without
taking into account, not only its own internal wants, but also the
principles that prevailed in other countries, against the influence of
which it had to be on its guard. Do you suppose, for instance, that the
policy of the Spanish government, constituted as it was the protector
of Catholicity against powerful Protestant nations, was not powerfully
influenced by the peculiar and very dangerous position of the country?
I think I have shown that the Church has never been opposed to the
legitimate development of any form of government; that she has taken
them all under her protection, and consequently that to assert that she
is the enemy of popular institutions is a calumny. I have also placed
it equally beyond a doubt, that the sects hostile to the Catholic
Church, by encouraging a democracy either irreligious or blinded
by fanaticism, so far from aiding in the establishment of just and
rational liberty, have, in fact, left the people no alternative between
unbridled licentiousness and unrestrained despotism. The lesson thus
furnished by history is confirmed by experience; and the future will
serve only to corroborate its truth. The more religious and moral men
are, the more deserving they are of liberty; for they have then less
need of external restraints, having a most powerful one in their own
consciences. An irreligious and immoral people stand in need of some
authority to keep them in order, otherwise they will be constantly
abusing their rights, and will consequently deserve to lose them. St.
Augustine perfectly understood these truths, and explains briefly and
beautifully the conditions necessary for all forms of government. The
holy Doctor shows that popular forms are good where the people are
moral and conscientious; where they are corrupt, they require either an
oligarchy or an unmixed monarchy.
I have no doubt that an interesting passage, in the form of a dialogue,
that we meet with in his first book on Free Will, chap. vi., will be
read with pleasure.
"_Augustine._ You would not maintain, for instance, that men or people
are so constituted by nature as to be absolutely eternal, and subject
neither to destruction nor change?--_Evodius._ Who can doubt that they
are changeable, and subject to the influence of time?--_Augustine._
If the people are serious and temperate; and if, moreover, they have
such a concern for the public good that each one would prefer the
public interest to his own, _is it not true that it would be advisable
to enact that such a people should choose their own authorities the
administration of their affairs?_--_Evodius._ Certainly.--_Augustine._
But, in case these same people become so corrupt that _the citizens
prefer their own to the public good; if they sell their votes; if,
corrupted by ambitious men, they intrust the government of the state
to men as criminal and corrupt as themselves_; is it not true that,
in such a case, if there be amongst them a man of integrity, and
possessing sufficient power for the purpose, he will do well to take
from these people the power of conferring honors, and concentrate it
in the hands of a small number of upright men, or even in the hands of
one man?--_Evodius._ Undoubtedly.--_Augustine._ Yet, since these laws
appear very much opposed to each other, the one granting the people the
right of conferring honors, the other depriving them of that right;
since, moreover, they cannot both be in force at once, _are we to
affirm that one of these laws is unjust, or that it should not have
been enacted?_--_Evodius._ By no means."[D]
[D] _Aug._ Quid ipsi homines et populi, ejusne generis rerum sunt,
ut interire mutarive non possint, æternique omnino sint?--_Evod._
Mutabile plane atque tempori obnoxium hoc genus esse quis
dubitet?--_Aug._ Ergo, si populus sit bene moderatus et gravis,
communisque utilitatis diligentissimus custos, in quo unusquisque
minoris rem privatam quam publicam pendat, nonne recte lex fertur, qua
huic ipsi populo liceat creare sibi magistratus, per quos sua res, id
est publica, administretur?--_Evod._ Recte prorsus.--_Aug._ Porro, si
paulatim depravatus idem populus rem privatam reipublicæ præferat,
atque habeat venale suffragium, corruptusque ab eis qui honores
amant, regimen in se flagitiosis consceleratisque committat, nonne
item recte, si quis tunc extiterit vir bonus, qui plurimum possit,
adimat huic populo potestatem dandi honores, et in paucorum bonorum
vel etiam unius redigat arbitrium?--_Evod._ Et id recte.--_Aug._ Cum
ergo duæ istæ leges ita sibi videantur esse contrariæ, ut una earum
honorum dandorum populo tribuat potestatem, auferat altera, et cum
ista secunda ita lata sit, ut nullo modo ambæ in una civitate simul
esse possint, num dicemus aliquam earum injustam esse et ferri minime
debuisse?--_Evod._ Nullo modo.
The whole question is here comprised in a few words: Can monarchy,
aristocracy, and democracy, be one and all legitimate and proper? Yes.
By what considerations are we to be guided in our decision as to which
of these forms is legitimate and proper in any given case? By the
consideration of existing rights, and of the condition of the people
to whom such form is to be applied. Can a form once good become bad?
Certainly it may; for all human things are subject to change. These
reflections, as solid as they are simple, will prevent all excessive
enthusiasm in favor of any particular form of government. This is not
a mere question of theory, but one of prudence also. Now, prudence
does not decide before having attentively considered and weighed all
circumstances. But there is one predominant idea in this doctrine of
St. Augustine: this idea I have already indicated, viz. that great
virtue and disinterestedness are required under a free government.
Those who are laboring to establish political liberty on the ruins of
all religious belief would do well to reflect upon the words of the
illustrious doctor.
How would you have people exercise extensive rights, if you disqualify
them by perverting their ideas and corrupting their morals? You say
that under representative forms of government reason and justice
are secured by means of elections; and yet you labor to banish this
reason and justice from the bosom of that society in which you talk of
securing them. You sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind; instead of
models of wisdom and prudence, you offer the people scandalous scenes.
Do not say that we are condemning the age, and that it progresses
in spite of us: we reject nothing that is good; but perversity and
corruption we must reprobate. The age progresses--true; but neither
you nor we know whither. Catholics know one thing--a thing which it
needs not a prophet to tell, viz. that a good social condition cannot
be formed out of bad men; that immoral men are bad; that where there
is no religion, morality cannot take root. Firm in our faith, we shall
leave you to try, if you choose, a thousand forms of government, to
apply your palliatives to your own social patient, to impose upon
him with deceitful words; his frequent convulsions--his continued
restlessness--are evidences of your incapacity; and well is it for your
patient that he still feels this anxiety: it is a sure sign that you
have not entirely succeeded in securing his confidence. If ever you do
secure it--if ever he fall asleep quietly in your arms--"all flesh will
then have corrupted its way;" and it may also be feared lest God should
resolve to sweep man from the face of the earth.
CHAPTER LXIX.
OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.
It has been abundantly proved in the course of this work, that the
pseudo-Reformation has not in any way contributed to the perfection
either of individuals or of society; from which we may naturally infer
that the case is the same as regards the development of the intellect.
I am unwilling, however, to let this truth stand merely as a corollary,
and I believe it to be susceptible of a special elucidation. We may
freely examine what advantage Protestantism has conferred upon the
various branches of human learning, without any fear of the result as
regards Catholicity. When we are to examine objects naturally embracing
a great many different relations, it is not enough merely to pronounce
certain conspicuous names, or to cite with emphasis one or two facts.
This is not the way to place a question in its proper light; and to
treat it adequately, much more is required. A discussion, either
confined within limits too narrow to admit of its full development,
or allowed an indefinite range, carries with it, in the eyes of an
observer of only slight penetration, an air of universality, elevation,
and boldness, whilst in reality it is all uncertainty and vagueness,
and is liable to be involved in endless contradictions.
To investigate this question satisfactorily, we must, it seems to me,
grasp the Catholic and Protestant principles respectively, subject
them to a most rigid scrutiny, and seize upon every point that appears
favorable or inimical to the development of the human mind. Further,
we should survey, in its widest range, the history of the intellect;
pausing here and there at the epochs where the influence of the
principle whose tendencies and effects we are studying has been most
effectively exerted; then, rejecting anomalous exceptions, as proving
nothing either one way or the other, and facts too insignificant
and isolated to affect in any way the course of events, the mind,
sufficiently elevated, and observing attentively, and with a sincere
desire to know the truth, will be enabled to discover how far its
philosophical deductions are in accordance with facts; and thus will it
complete the solution of the problem.
One of the fundamental principles of Catholicity, one of its
distinctive characteristics, is the submission of the intellect to
authority in matters of faith. This is the point against which the
attacks of Protestants have ever been and still are directed: and
this is quite natural, seeing that Protestants profess resistance
to authority as a fundamental and constituent principle. From this
fatal source flow all their other errors. If there be in Catholicity
any thing capable of arresting the march of the mind or of lowering
its flight, it must unquestionably be the principle of submission to
authority. With this principle must rest all the blame in this respect,
if indeed the Catholic religion be chargeable with any.
_Submission of the intellect to authority._ These words, it cannot
be denied, do, unless we have seized upon their true meaning, and
ascertained the precise objects to which this submission is applicable,
at first sight, convey an idea of antagonism to intellectual
development. If you cherish an ardent affection for the dignity of our
nature; if you are an enthusiastic advocate of scientific progress,
and behold with delight the brilliant efforts of a bold, vigorous,
and accomplished genius; you will discover something repulsive in a
principle which appears to invoke slavery, since it checks the flight
of the mind, clips the wings of the intellect, and casts it into the
dust. But if you examine this principle in its essence, apply it to
the various branches of learning, and observe what are the points of
contact which it offers with the methods adopted for the cultivation
of the mind, will you discover any foundation for these suspicions and
apprehensions? What truth will you find in the reproaches of which
Catholicity has been made the object? How vain and puerile will appear
all the declamation published on this subject!
We will now enter fully into the examination of this difficulty; we
will take the Catholic principle, and analyze it with the eye of
impartial philosophy. With this principle before us, we will survey the
whole field of science, and consult the testimony of the greatest men.
If we find that it has ever been opposed to the genuine development
of any one branch of learning; if, on visiting the tombs where repose
the most illustrious, they tell us that the principle of submission to
authority chained down their intellects, obscured their imaginations,
and withered their hearts,--we will then acknowledge that Protestants
are right in the reproaches which they are constantly directing against
the Catholic religion on this subject. God, man, society, nature,
the entire creation--such are the objects on which our minds can be
occupied; beyond the sphere of these objects we cannot reach, for
they embrace infinity--there is nothing beyond them. Well, then, the
Catholic principle opposes no obstacle to the mind's progress. Whether
as regards God or man, society or nature, it imposes no shackles,
places no obstacle in the way of the human mind; instead of checking
this progress, it rather serves as a lofty beacon, which, far from
interfering with the mariner's liberty, guides him in safety amid the
obscurity of night.
How does the Catholic principle oppose the freedom of the human mind
in anything relating to the Divinity? Protestants surely will not tell
us that there is anything at all wrong in the idea which the Catholic
religion gives of God. Agreeing with us on the idea of a being eternal,
immutable, infinite, the Creator of heaven and earth, just, holy, full
of goodness, a rewarder of the good, and a punisher of the wicked,
they admit this to be the only reasonable idea of God that can be
presented to the mind of man. To this idea the Catholic religion unites
an incomprehensible, profound, and ineffable mystery, veiled from the
sight of weak mortals,--the august mystery of the Trinity; but on this
point Protestants cannot reproach us, unless they are prepared to avow
themselves Socinians. The Lutherans, the Calvinists, the Anglicans,
and many other sects, condemn, as well as we do, those who deny this
august mystery. We may remark here, that Calvin had Michael Servetus
burned at Geneva for his heretical doctrines on the Trinity. I am well
aware of the ravages that Socinianism has made among the separated
Churches, where the spirit and the right of private judgment in matters
of faith have converted Christians into unbelieving philosophers; but,
notwithstanding this, the mystery of the Trinity was long respected by
the leading Protestant sects, and is so yet, externally at least, by
the greater part of them.
In any case, I cannot see how this mystery shackles human reason in
its contemplation of the Divinity. Does it prevent it from going
forth into immensity? What limit does it fix to the infinite ocean
of light and being implied in the word _God_? Does it in the least
obscure this splendor? When the mind of man, soaring above the regions
of creation, and detaching itself from the body that would bear it
down, abandons itself to the delights of sublime meditation on the
infinite Being, Creator of heaven and earth, does this august mystery
stop him in his heavenward flight? Ask the innumerable volumes
written on the Divinity, eloquent and irrefragable testimonies of
liberty enjoyed by the human mind wherever Catholicity prevails. The
doctrines of Catholicity relative to the Divinity may be considered
under two aspects; either as having reference to mysteries above our
comprehension, or as touching what is within the reach of reason.
As regards mysteries, their abode is in a region so sublime, they
appertain to an order of things so superior to any created thought,
that the mind, even after the most extensive, most profound, and, at
the same time, most free investigations, is unable, without the aid
of revelation, to form even the most remote idea of these ineffable
wonders. How can things that never meet, which are of a totally
distinct order, and which are an immense distance apart, interfere
with each other? The intellect can fix upon one of them by means of
meditation, can lose itself in contemplating it, without even thinking
of the other. Can the moon's orbit come into contact with the remotest
of the fixed stars?
Do you fear that the revelation of a mystery may limit the sphere of
your reason's operations? Are you apprehensive lest, in wandering
through immensity, you may be smothered in the narrowness of your
reason? Was space wanted for the genius of Descartes, of Gassendi,
of Mallebranche? Did these men complain that their intellects were
limited, imprisoned? Why, indeed, should they complain (I speak not of
them only, but of all the great minds of modern times who have treated
of the Divinity), when they cannot but own that they are indebted to
Catholicity for the most splendid and sublime ideas that enrich their
writings? The philosophers of antiquity, in their treatises on the
Divinity, are at an immense distance below the least eminent of our
metaphysical theologians. What would Plato himself be compared to Lewis
of Granada, Louis de Léon, Fénélon, or Bossuet? Before Christianity
appeared upon earth, before the faith of the Chair of Peter had taken
possession of the world, the primitive ideas on the Divinity having
been effaced, the human mind wandered amongst a thousand errors,
a thousand monstrous fancies; feeling the necessity of a God, man
substituted for the Supreme Being the creation of his own imagination.
But ever since the ineffable splendor, descending from the bosom of the
Father of light, has shone upon the whole earth, ideas of the Divinity
have remained so fixed, clear, and simple, and at the same time so
lofty and sublime, that human reason has obtained a wider range; the
veil which concealed the origin of the universe has been withdrawn;
the world's destiny has been marked out, and man has received the key
that explains the wonders which fill and surround him. Protestants have
felt the force of this truth; their aversion for every thing Catholic
was almost fanatical; yet, generally speaking, they may be said to have
respected the idea of the Divinity. On this point, of all others, the
spirit of innovation has been felt the least. How, indeed, could it be
otherwise? The God of the Catholics was too great to be replaced by
any other. Newton and Leibnitz, embracing heaven and earth in their
speculations, could say nothing new of the Author of so many wonders,
nothing but what had already been taught by the Catholic religion.
Well had it been for Protestants if, whilst in the midst of their
wanderings they preserved this precious treasure, they had faithfully
followed the example of their predecessors, and had rejected that
monstrous philosophy which threatens us with the revival of all errors,
ancient and modern, beginning with the substitution of a monstrous
pantheism for the sublime Deity of Christianity. Let those Protestants
who are friends of truth, jealous of the honor of their communion,
devoted to their country's welfare, and interested in the future
prospects of mankind, be warned in time. If pantheism should prevail,
it will not be the spiritualist but the naturalist philosophers who
will triumph. The German philosophers may in vain seek refuge in
abstraction and enigmas, in vain condemn the sensualist philosophy
of the last century; a God confounded with nature is not God, a God
identified with every thing is nothing; pantheism is a deification of
the universe, that is, a denial of God.
What sorrowful reflections suggest themselves to us when we consider
the direction now taken by the minds of men in different parts of
Europe, and more especially in Germany! Catholics long since told them
they would begin with resistance to authority by denying a dogma, but
would end by a denial of all, and fall into atheism; and the course of
ideas during the last three centuries has fully confirmed the truth
of the prediction. Strange, that German philosophy should aim at
producing a reaction against the materialist school, and with all its
spiritualism end in pantheism! Providence, it would seem, has ordained
that the soil which has produced so many errors should be barren of
truth. Out of the Church all is unsteadiness and confusion; materialism
ending in atheism, wild idealism and fantastic spiritualism resulting
in pantheism! Verily, God still abhors pride, and repeats the terrible
chastisement of the confusion of tongues. Catholicity triumphs the
while; but mourns in the midst of her triumphs. I do not see either how
it can be that Catholicity impedes the operation of the intellect as
regards the study of man. What does the Church require of us on this
point? What does she teach on the subject? How far extends the circle
embracing the doctrines we are forbidden to call in question?
Philosophers are divided into two schools, the materialists and
the spiritualists. The former assert that the human soul is only a
portion of matter, which, by a certain modification, produces in us
what we call thought and will; the latter maintains that the energy
accompanying thought and will is incompatible with the inertness
of matter; that what is divisible, composed of divers parts, and
consequently of divers entities, could not harmonize with the simple
unity essential to a being that thinks, wills, reasons, with itself
upon every thing, and possesses the profound consciousness of
individuality. For these reasons they assert that the contrary opinion
is false and absurd; and they ground their opinion upon a variety of
considerations. The Catholic Church intervenes in the dispute, and
says: "The soul of man is not corporeal, it is a spirit; you cannot
be both a Catholic and a materialist." But ask the Catholic Church
by what systems you are to explain the ideas, the sensations, the
acts of the will, and human feelings,--and she will tell you that on
these matters you are perfectly free to hold what you consider most
in accordance with reason; that faith does not descend to particular
questions appertaining to the affairs of this world, which God himself
delivered to the consideration of men. Before the light of the Gospel
shone upon the world, the schools of philosophy were in the most
profound ignorance on the subject of our origin and our destiny; none
of the philosophers could explain the profound contradictions that are
found in man; none of them succeeded in pointing out the cause of that
strange mixture of greatness and littleness, of goodness and malice,
of knowledge and ignorance, of excellence and baseness. But religion
came forth, and said: "Man is the work of God; his destiny is to be for
evermore united with God; for him the earth is a place of exile only;
man is no longer what he was when he came forth from the hands of his
Creator; the whole human race is subjected to the consequences of a
great fall." Now I would defy all philosophers, ancient and modern, to
show wherein the obligation of believing these things militates in the
slightest degree against the progress of true philosophy.
So far, indeed, are the doctrines of Catholicity from checking
philosophical progress, that they are, on the contrary, a most fruitful
source of this progress in every respect. If we wish to make progress
in any of the sciences, it is no slight advantage for the intellect
to have a safe and firm axis around which it may revolve; it is a
fortunate thing to be enabled to avoid at the very outset in the
intellectual race, a multitude of questions which would entangle us
in inextricable labyrinths, or from which we could not escape without
falling into most lamentable absurdities; in a word, when we approach
the investigation of these questions, we ought to consider ourselves
happy in finding them resolved beforehand in their most important
points, and in knowing where the truth lies, and where the danger of
falling into error. The philosopher's position is then that of a man
who, sure of the existence of a mine in a certain spot, does not waste
his time in searching after it, but, knowing his ground, his researches
and labors are profitable from the first. This is the cause of the
vast advantage which in these matters modern philosophers possess over
those of antiquity: the ancients had to grope in the dark; the moderns,
preceded by brilliant lights, advance with a firm and sure step, and
march straight to their destination. They may boast incessantly that
they set aside revelation, that they hold it in disdain, perhaps that
they even openly attack it. Even in this case religion enlightens them,
and often guides their steps; for there are a thousand splendid ideas
for which they are indebted to religion, and which they cannot erase
from their minds; ideas which they have found in books, learned in
catechisms, and imbibed with their milk; ideas which they hear uttered
by every one around them, which are spread everywhere, and which
impregnate with their vivifying and beneficent influence the atmosphere
they breathe. In repudiating religion, these same moderns are carrying
ingratitude to great lengths; for at the very moment they insult her,
they are profiting by her favors.
This is not the place to enter into details on this matter, or
numerous proofs might easily be adduced in support of the foregoing
observations; a comparison between the first works of modern philosophy
that came to hand and the works of the ancients would be decisive; but
such a labor would still be incomplete for those who are not versed
in these matters; and for those who are so, it would be superfluous.
I leave the question with entire confidence to the perspicacity and
impartiality of my readers; it will, I think, be acknowledged that
whenever our modern philosophers have spoken of man with truth and
dignity, their language has borne the impress of Christian ideas. Such
is the influence of Catholicity upon those sciences which, confined to
a purely speculative order, allow the genius of the philosopher the
widest range and the greatest freedom possible; but if, as regards
those sciences, the influence of Catholicity, instead of checking the
mind in its flight, only enlarges its range, increases its sublimity,
its daring, and at the same time its security, by preventing it from
running astray, what shall we say of its influence on the study of
ethics? Has the whole body of philosophers together ever discovered
any thing beyond what is contained in the Gospel? What doctrine excels
in purity, in sanctity, in sublimity that taught by the Catholic
religion? On this point we will do justice to the philosophers, even to
those most hostile to the Christian religion. They have attacked its
doctrines, and smiled at the divinity of its origin; but have always
evinced a profound respect for its morality. I know not what secret
influence has constrained them into an avowal that must certainly have
cost them dear. "Yes," they invariably say, "it cannot be denied that
the morality of Catholicity is excellent."
There are certain doctrines of Catholicity which cannot be said to
appertain directly either to God, to man, or to morality, in the sense
generally given to this word. The Catholic religion is a revealed
religion, of an order far superior to any thing that the human mind is
capable of conceiving. Its object is to guide us to a destiny that we
could neither attain nor even imagine by our own strength, and it is
based upon this principle, that human nature, corrupted by the fall,
requires to be restored and purified; evidently, therefore, it should
contain certain doctrines explanatory of the mode in which this work of
restoration and purification is to be effected, whether in a general or
particular sense; and at the same time pointing out the means which
God has chosen to lead man to happiness. Such are the doctrines of the
Incarnation, of Redemption, of Grace, and of the Sacraments.
These dogmas embrace a wide field; the relations in which they stand
to God and to man are very extensive; the doctrines of the Catholic
Church are, and always have been, unchangeable. Well then! extensive
as they are, they afford not a single point that can be said to
have a tendency to embarrass the free action of the intellect in
investigations of any kind. The cause of this fact is the same as that
I have already indicated. Those who have attentively compared the
sciences of philosophy and theology may have remarked that theology, in
the sublime questions mentioned above, occupies a sphere so distinct
and supereminent as scarcely to preserve a single point of contact
with that in which philosophy moves. They are two vast and sublime
orbits, occupying in the depths of space positions very distant from
each other. Man sometimes tries to make them approximate, and would
be glad if a ray of terrestrial light could penetrate into the region
of incomprehensible mysteries; but he scarcely knows how to begin
this, and we hear him avow, with a profound sense of his own weakness,
that he is _speaking only conventionally_ and _by analogy_, merely
with a view to make himself better understood. The Church allows such
attempts, owing to the good intentions they evince; sometimes she
even prompts and encourages them, desiring, as far as possible, to
accommodate what is incomprehensible in her doctrines to the feeble
capacities of men.
After all their reasonings on the attributes of the Divinity and
the relations of man to God, have philosophers discovered any thing
incompatible with these doctrines of Catholicity? Have revealed truths
stood in their way as a stumbling-block to their investigations?
When Descartes, in the seventeenth century, effected a revolution in
philosophy, a singular incident occurred that will throw a strong
light on this subject. The Catholic doctrine respecting the august
mystery of the Eucharist is known, and also in what the dogma of
_transubstantiation_ consists. Many theologians, the reader is also
probably aware, in order to explain the supernatural phenomenon which
takes place after the consummation of the miracle, had recourse
to the doctrine of accidents, which they distinguished from the
substance. Now the theory of Descartes, and of almost all other
modern philosophers, was incompatible with this explanation, for they
denied the existence of accidents distinct from the substance. It
consequently appeared at first sight that a difficulty would here arise
for the Catholic doctrine, and that the Church would have to oppose
this system of philosophy. And did it so happen? Not at all. Upon a
careful investigation of the matter, it was seen that the Catholic
dogma belonged to a region infinitely above that uncertain one in
which the philosophic doctrine was discovered, however closely they
might have seemed to approximate. In vain theologians discussed the
matter, indulged in mutual recriminations, drew from the new doctrine
all sorts of inferences, in order to represent it as dangerous. The
Church, always superior to the thoughts of men, kept aloof from these
disputes, maintaining that grave, majestic, and impassive attitude so
well becoming her to whom Jesus Christ confided the sacred deposit
of His doctrine. Such is the liberty accorded by the Church to the
genius of philosophers, that it is free in every sense. The Church has
no need to be continually imposing restrictions and conditions; the
sacred doctrines of which she is the depository dwelling in so elevated
a region that the mind of man can scarcely ever meet them, at least
so long as his investigations do not wander from the track of true
philosophy.
But this human reason, at once so powerful and so feeble, sometimes
becomes puffed up with arrogance and pride, and in the name of liberty
and independence claims a right to blaspheme the Almighty, to deny
man's free will, the immortality and spirituality of his soul, her
sublime origin and her heavenly destiny. At such a time we avow, and we
glory in the avowal, the Church does raise her voice, not to oppress
or tyrannize over the human mind, but to defend the rights of the
Supreme Being and the dignity of human nature; then, indeed, we behold
her opposing, with unyielding firmness, that senseless liberty which
consists in the fatal right of uttering all sorts of extravagances.
This liberty Catholics neither possess nor desire, knowing that in
these matters, as in others, there is a sacred line of demarcation
between liberty and licentiousness. Happy slavery, that keeps us from
atheism, materialism, and from doubting whether our souls come from
God, whether they tend towards Him, and whether there exists for
unhappy mortals, after the sufferings that weigh upon them in this
life, a life of eternal happiness purchased by the merits of a God-man!
As for the sciences which have society for their object, I think I need
not vindicate the Catholic religion from the reproach of having in
this respect oppressed the human mind. The long train of reflections
in which I have set forth her doctrines and her influence, as regards
the nature and extent of power, and the civil and political liberty
of nations, proves to a demonstration that the Catholic religion,
without descending to the arena in which the passions of men strive and
contend, teaches a doctrine most favorable to true civilization and to
the rightly-understood liberties of the people.
I will also touch briefly upon the relations of the Catholic principle
with the study of the natural sciences. Assuredly it is not easy to
see in what way this principle can be injurious to the progress of the
human mind in this department of knowledge. I have said, it is not
easy; I might have said impossible, and that for a very simple reason,
founded upon a fact within the reach of every man; viz. the extreme
reserve which the Catholic religion evinces in every thing relating to
purely natural science. One might suppose that God had designed, on
this matter, to read us a severe lesson on our excessive curiosity:
you have only to read the Bible to be convinced of the truth of what
I have advanced. I do not mean that nature is never noticed in the
Bible; that divine book presents her to us in her grandest, noblest,
and most sublime aspect; as a living whole, in fact, together with all
her relations and her sublime destiny, but without any kind of analysis
or decomposition. In these sacred pages the painter's pencil and the
poet's fancy will meet with magnificent models; but the inquisitive
philosopher will look in vain for the hints he is in quest of. The Holy
Spirit did not aim at making naturalists, but virtuous men; hence, in
describing the creation, He represents it solely in a light the best
adapted to excite in us feelings of admiration and gratitude towards
the Author of so many wonders and benefits. Nature, as she appears
in the sacred text, has not much to gratify the curiosity of the
philosopher; but then she delights and ennobles the imagination--she
moves and penetrates the heart.
CHAPTER LXX.
HISTORICAL ANALYSIS OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.
From the rapid view we have taken of the several branches of learning
in their relations to the authority of the Church, it is clear to a
demonstration, that the alleged enslavement of the intellect amongst
Catholics is nothing but a mere bugbear: in no respect does our faith
either arrest or retard the progress of learning. Since, however, it
not unfrequently happens that, in arguments apparently the most solid,
a flaw is discovered when they are brought to the test of facts, it
will be well to corroborate our assertion by historical testimony;
fully assured as we are, that the result must be favorable to the cause
of truth. We will begin at the beginning.
M. Guizot maintains that the contest between the Church and the
advocates of the freedom of thought originated in the middle ages.
Noticing the efforts of John Erigena, Roscelin, Abelard, and the alarm
they excited in the Church, he observes: "This was the great event
that occurred at the end of the eleventh, and at the beginning of the
twelfth centuries, at a time when the Church was under theocratic and
monastic influence. It was then that, for the first time, a serious
struggle was commenced between the clergy and the freethinkers."
(_Hist. Générale de la Civilisation en Europe. Leçon 6._) The entire
scope of M. Guizot's work shows that, in his judgment, the best-founded
reproach that could be cast upon the Catholic Church was, that she
checked the freedom of thought. According to him, this is the point
upon which the advantage of the Protestant system over Catholicity is
the least controvertible. His object being the complete development of
this idea, in treating of the religious revolution of the sixteenth
century it was requisite for him to deposit it as a seed in his
preliminary lectures; as otherwise the fact of the Reformation would
have appeared isolated, and shorn of its importance. Besides, it was
necessary that the resistance of Protestants to the Catholic Church
should have a meaning; that it should carry with it the appearance
of a noble and generous thought; that it should be regarded as the
proclamation of the freedom of the human mind. To attain this end,
the Church, on the one hand, must be represented as asserting claims
in the middle ages to which she had not previously pretended; and, on
the other, those writers who resisted these alleged pretensions of the
Church must be held up as men of extraordinary penetration.
Now, such is precisely the thread of M. Guizot's discourse; and we
hence infer his efforts to prepare beforehand the triumph of his
opinions. His plan, however, is ill-concerted; for he appears to have
overlooked the most palpable facts in the history of the Church; and
not even to have known what were the doctrines of the three champions,
whose names he invokes with so much complacency. That no one may
accuse me of making inconsiderate assertions, I will here quote his
words literally: "Thus every thing," says he, "seemed turning to the
advantage of the Church, of her unity, and of her power. But whilst
the Papacy was grasping at the government of the world, whilst the
monasteries were undergoing a moral reformation, a few powerful but
isolated individuals claimed for human reason the right of being
something in man, the right to interfere in the formation of his
opinions. Most of them refrained from attacking received opinions, or
religious belief; they merely said that reason had a right to prove
them; and that it was not enough that they were affirmed by authority.
John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard were the interpreters, through whom
individual reason began to lay claim to her inheritance--the first
authors of that movement of liberty, which was associated with the
reform movement of Hildebrand and St. Bernard. If we seek the dominant
feature of this movement, we shall find that it was not a change of
opinion, a revolt against the system of public belief; it was simply
the right of reasoning claimed for reason." (_Hist. Générale de la
Civilisation en Europe. Leçon 6._)
We will pass over the author's singular parallel between the efforts of
John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard, and those of the great reformers,
Hildebrand or St. Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. These latter sought
to reform the Church by legitimate means, to render the clergy more
venerable by making them more virtuous, and to win greater respect for
authority by sanctifying the persons entrusted with its exercise: the
others, according to M. Guizot, resisted this authority in matters
of faith; that is, they aimed at its overthrow, and for this purpose
laid the axe to the root; the former _were_ reformers, the latter
devastators: and yet we are told that their efforts were directed to
one and the same object, had one and the same tendency. Verily, the
philosophy of history were a sorry thing, if it could allow of such
a confusion of ideas! What progress can be made in this branch of
knowledge, by men who have so strange a way of dealing with facts? But,
I repeat, let us take leave of these aberrations, and fix our attention
specially on two points: the worth of these three writers, so much
vaunted, and the idea we are told to entertain of their resistance to
authority. Doubtless the names of John Erigena and Roscelin are already
pronounced with respect by those persons who would fain be thought well
versed in the philosophy of history, without having ever read history,
and who are obliged to content themselves with those easy lessons that
are learned in an hour, and studied in an evening. With persons of this
description, it is enough to have heard these names pronounced with
emphasis, to have seen them coupled with epithets, such as _powerful
men_, _advocates of human reason_, _interpreters of individual reason_,
to make them fancy that learning is no less indebted to Erigena and
Roscelin than to Descartes or Bacon.
Without bearing in mind the remarks I have already made on the
peculiarity of M. Guizot's position, it would not be easy to conjecture
why he should seek to represent as new and extraordinary, what was,
in fact, neither new nor uncommon; how he could say that the Church
first began the contest against liberty of thought, when she put down
Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard. He brings forward these three writers,
as though their influence had been paramount; whereas they had no more
influence than other sectarians, who abounded in preceding centuries.
Who and what really was this John Erigena? A writer but imperfectly
versed in theological science; but who, puffed up by the favor shown
him by Charles the Bold, broached certain errors on the subject of the
Eucharist, predestination and grace. In all that, I see only a man
departing from the doctrine of the Church; and in Nicholas the First
attempting to stop him in his career, I see only a Pope fulfilling his
duty. What is there in all this either new or extraordinary? Does not
the whole history of the Church, from the time of the Apostles, exhibit
an unbroken succession of similar facts?
I repeat, it is impossible to conceive for what purpose the name
of Erigena is brought forward. His errors produced no result of
importance; and the age in which he lived cannot be considered as
having exercised any great influence on the intellectual development
of subsequent times. He lived in the ninth century. Now, this century
had no share in the movement of those that followed; indeed, it is
well known that the tenth century was the darkest period of ignorance
during the middle ages; and that the intellectual movement commenced
only at the close of the tenth, and at the opening of the eleventh
century. Erigena and Roscelin are separated by two centuries. As for
Roscelin and Abelard, it is easier to understand why their names are
cited. Every one knows the noise that Abelard made in the world by
his doctrines, and perhaps still more by his adventures. Roscelin may
also command attention by his errors, and especially as the master of
Abelard.
To give an idea of the spirit that guided these men, and of the opinion
we are to form of their intentions, we must enter into some details
touching their lives and their doctrines. Roscelin was one of the most
crafty men of his time. A subtle dialectician and warm partizan of
the sect of the Nominalists, he substituted his own opinions for the
teaching of the Church; and ended by falling into the gravest errors on
the sacred mystery of the Trinity. History has recorded a fact, that
proves incontestably the notorious dishonesty of the man--his want
of probity and of modesty. At the time that Roscelin was propagating
his errors, St. Anselm, who was afterwards archbishop of Canterbury,
was living, but at that time abbot of Beck. Lanfranc, archbishop of
Canterbury, who died some time before, had left behind him the highest
reputation for virtue and sound doctrine. Roscelin thought that the
authority of so high a name would give currency and consideration to
his errors; and, resorting to the foulest calumny, he affirmed that his
opinions were the same as those of Archbishop Lanfranc, and Anselm,
abbot of Beck. To this calumny Lanfranc could not reply, as he was
already in the tomb; but the abbot of Beck vigorously repelled so
unjust an imputation; and at the same time vindicated the reputation
of Lanfranc, who had been his master. The works of St. Anselm leave
no doubt as to the nature of Roscelin's errors. We find them recorded
with the greatest precision. In fact, it were difficult to say why M.
Guizot has conferred so much importance upon this man, or why he should
be adduced as one of the principal champions of the freedom of thought.
There is nothing in Roscelin to distinguish him from other heretics.
He is a man who employs artifices and subtleties, and falls into
error; but nothing is more common in the history of the Church; and it
certainly cannot be considered matter of astonishment.
Abelard is more deserving of notice: his name has become so famous that
no one is unacquainted with his sad adventures. A disciple of Roscelin,
and as well skilled as his master in the dialectics of the age,
endowed with great talents, and eager to parade them on the principal
theatres of literature, Abelard earned a reputation never attained
by the dialectician of Compiègne. His errors on points of very great
importance produced much mischief in the Church, and drew upon himself
many sorrows. But it is not true, as M. Guizot will have it, that his
doctrines met with less reproof than his method; neither is it true
that he and his master Roscelin had no intention of effecting a radical
change in matters of doctrine. Evidence of a most unexceptionable kind
fortunately places the matter beyond all doubt, and proves that it
was not Roscelin's method, but his error on the Trinity, for which he
was condemned. Nor have we less certainty in the case of Abelard; for
the various errors taken from his works are preserved in the form of
articles.
We learn from St. Bernard, that on the Trinity, Abelard held the
opinions of Arius--on the Incarnation, those of Nestorius--on grace,
those of Pelagius. All this did not merely _tend_ to a radical change
of doctrine, but actually was one. I do not know that Abelard ever
protested against the truth of these accusations; and even if he had,
we all know how to estimate such a protest. It is certain that, in the
famous Assembly of Sens--convoked at the request of Abelard himself--he
had not a word to say in reply to the sainted abbot of Clairvaux, who
reproached him with his errors; and laying before him the very words
of his propositions, extracted from his writings, urged him either
to defend or abjure them. Abelard, confronted with so formidable an
adversary, was so embarrassed that he could only say, in reply, that
he appealed to Rome. The Council of Sens, out of respect for the Holy
See, abstained from condemning the person of the innovator, but did
not fail to condemn his errors; and this condemnation was approved by
the Sovereign Pontiff, and extended to his person also. Now, from the
articles containing the errors of Abelard, it does not appear that
his dominant idea was to proclaim the liberty of thought. He has, it
is true, an overweening confidence in his own subtleties; but, beyond
this, his only fault is an erroneous and dogmatizing spirit on points
of the greatest importance; a fault which he had in common with all the
heretics who preceded him.
All this M. Guizot ought to have known; how he can have overlooked it
I cannot imagine, nor why he attaches to these authors an importance
which they really do not deserve. Perhaps he was anxious to furnish
Protestants with some illustrious predecessors, when he laid such
stress on the names of Roscelin and Abelard. These two, after all, were
not deficient in ability or in erudition, and they lived precisely
during the early period of the intellectual movement. Probably M.
Guizot thought, that to bring these two innovators upon the scene would
answer his purpose extremely well, as showing that, from the very
dawn of intellectual development, men of the greatest fame had raised
their voices in favor of freedom of thought. After all, had M. Guizot
succeeded in proving that John Erigena, Roscelin, and Abelard aimed at
nothing more than the assertion of the right of private examination in
matters of faith, it would not follow that these innovators had not
sought to effect a radical change in matters of doctrine. In fact, what
can be more radical as regards matters of faith than that which strikes
at authority, the root of all certainty? Neither would it follow, that
in condemning the errors of these men the Church had taken alarm merely
at their _method_; for if this method was to consist in withdrawing the
intellect from the yoke of authority, even in matters of faith, it was
itself a very grievous error, combated at all times by the Catholic
Church, which never would consent to have her authority called in
question on points of faith.
And yet, if these innovators had entered into the contest chiefly
for the purpose of contending against authority in matters of faith,
M. Guizot would have had some reason to notice their proceedings as
constituting a new era; but, strange to say, their propositions do not
appear to have been drawn up with a view to advocate the independence
of thought, nor against authority in matters of faith; it was not
for such an attempt, but for other errors, that the Church condemned
them. Where, then, are the accuracy and historical truth which we
should expect from such a man as M. Guizot? How could he venture, in
addressing a numerous audience, thus to substitute his own thoughts
for facts? The fact is, he well knew that these were matters generally
treated very superficially; that to gain the sympathy of superficial
men it would suffice to speak in pompous terms of the liberty of
thought, to pronounce certain names probably heard by many for the
first time, such as Erigena and Roscelin, and especially to mention the
unfortunate lover of Heloïse.
M. Guizot, unable to conceal from himself that his observations upon
this period were somewhat feeble, tries to apply a remedy by inserting
a passage from the _Introduction to the Theology_ of Abelard, which, in
my opinion, is very far from answering the purpose of the publicist.
His object, in fact, is to show that from that very period a vigorous
spirit of resistance to the authority of the Church in matters of faith
had sprung up, and that the human mind was even then longing to burst
asunder the fetters in which it had been held. He would have us believe
that Abelard, yielding to the importunities of his own disciples, had
the courage to throw off the yoke of authority; and that his writings
were, to a certain extent, the expression of a necessity long felt, of
an idea with which many minds had long been agitated. The following
is the passage referred to: "If we seek the dominant feature of this
movement, we shall find that it was not a change of opinion, a revolt
against the system of public belief; it was simply the right of
reasoning claimed for reason."
We have already seen how utterly devoid of truth is this assertion of
the publicist. The very attack upon authority was itself a radical
change in opinions, and a revolution in received doctrines; for the
authority of the Church was in itself a dogma, and formed the basis
of all religious belief, as experience has satisfactorily shown,
since the appearance of Protestantism at the commencement of the
sixteenth century. But let us allow the historian to proceed: "The
disciples of Abelard, as he himself tells us in his _Introduction to
Theology_, required of him philosophical arguments, and such as would
satisfy reason, requesting him to teach them not merely to repeat his
instructions, but to understand them also; for no one can believe
what he does not understand, and it is ridiculous to preach to others
things that neither the teacher nor his pupils understand. 'What object
can the study of philosophy have but that of leading the mind to the
contemplation of God, to whom all things are to be referred? Why are
the faithful allowed to read works treating of worldly affairs and the
books of the Gentiles, except to prepare them to understand the sacred
Scriptures, and to furnish them with the skill necessary for their
defence?... For this purpose alone we should avail ourselves of all
our reasoning powers, lest, on questions so difficult and complicated
as those that form the object of Christian faith, the subtilty of our
opponents should too readily injure the purity of our faith.'"
It cannot be denied, that in Abelard's time a lively curiosity aroused
men's minds to employ all their powers to be able to give a reason
for what they believed; but it is not true that the Church threw any
obstacle in the way of this movement, considering it as a scientific
method, and so long as it did not overstep legitimate bounds, and
attack or undermine the articles of faith. It is impossible to take
a more unfavorable view of the Church than M. Guizot has here taken
of her; nor could any one more completely overlook, I will even say
distort, facts.
"The importance of this first attempt at liberty," says he, "of this
revival of the spirit of inquiry, was soon felt. The Church, though
engaged in effecting her own reform, took the alarm nevertheless, and
at once declared war against the reformers, whose new methods menaced
her with more evils than their doctrines."
Thus is the Church represented as conspiring against the progress
of thought, repressing with a strong arm the first attempts of the
mind to advance in the path of science, and laying aside questions of
doctrine to contend against methods; and all this, we are told, as
if it were something new and wonderful. "For," says M. Guizot, "this
was the great event which occurred at the end of the eleventh and
beginning of the twelfth centuries, at a time when the Church was under
theocratic and monastic influence. It was now that, for the first time,
a serious struggle commenced between the clergy and the freethinkers.
The quarrels of Abelard and St. Bernard, the Councils of Soissons and
Sens, in which Abelard was condemned, merely give expression to this
event, which has occupied so large a space in the history of modern
civilization."
Still the same confusion of ideas. I have said already, and must repeat
here that the Church has condemned no method; it was not a _method_,
but error, that the Church condemned, unless by a method be meant an
assault upon the articles of faith, under pretence of breaking the
fetters of authority, which is not merely a method, but an error of the
very highest import. In reproving a pernicious doctrine, subversive of
all faith, and denying the infallibility of the See of St. Peter in
matters of doctrine, the Church did not put forth any new pretensions;
her conduct has always been the same ever since the time of the
Apostles, and is the same still. The moment a doctrine is propagated
that appears in the least degree dangerous, the Church examines it,
compares it with the sacred deposit of truth confided to her; if the
doctrine is not inconsistent with divine truth, she allows it free
circulation, for she is not ignorant that _God has given up the world
to the controversies of men_; but if it is opposed to the faith, its
condemnation is irremissible, without concern or regret. Were the
Church to act otherwise, she would contradict herself, and cease to be
what she is, the jealous depository of divine truth. If she allowed her
infallible authority to be questioned, that moment she would forget one
of her most sacred obligations, and would lose all claim on our belief;
for, in betraying an indifference for truth, she would prove herself to
be no longer a religion descended from heaven, but a mere delusion.
Precisely at the time of which M. Guizot speaks, we observe a fact
which proves that the Church allows free scope to the exercise of
thought. The high reputation which St. Anselm sustained during his
whole career, and the great esteem in which he was held by the
Sovereign Pontiffs of his time, are well known; yet St. Anselm
philosophised with great freedom. In the introduction to his
_Monologue_, he tells us that some persons entreated him to explain
things by reason alone, without the aid of the sacred Scriptures. The
Saint was not afraid to comply with their request, and he accordingly
wrote the little work we have just named. In other parts of his works,
too, St. Anselm adopts the same method. Very few persons concern
themselves now-a-days about ancient writers, and doubtless very few
have read the works of the holy Doctor of whom we are speaking. They
display, however, such perspicuity of thought, such solid reasoning,
and above all such a discreet and temperate judgment, that we are
surprised to find the human mind, at the very commencement of the
intellectual movement, attaining to so high an elevation. In him we
find the greatest freedom of thought combined with the respect due
to the authority of the Church; and far from impairing the vigor of
his ideas, this respect augments their force and perspicuity. From
his works we learn that Abelard was not the only one who taught, _not
merely to repeat his lectures, but also to understand them_; for St.
Anselm, some years previous, followed the same method with a clearness
and solidity far beyond what could be expected at that time. We there
discover, also, that in the bosom of the Catholic Church men carried
the operations of reason to the greatest possible extent, though always
within the bounds prescribed by its own weakness, and with reverential
regard to the sacred veil that shrouds august mysteries.
The works of St. Anselm prove that Abelard was not exactly the man
to teach the world that the end of philosophical studies is to lead
the mind to the contemplation of God, to whom all things should be
referred; and that we should avail ourselves of all our reasoning
powers, lest on questions so difficult and complicated as those that
form the object of Christian faith, the subtilties of our opponents
should too readily injure the purity of our faith. But from the Saint's
profound submission to the authority of the Church, from the candor and
ingenuousness with which he acknowledges the limits of the human mind,
we see that he was persuaded _that it is not impossible to believe what
we do not comprehend_; and, in fact, there is a wide difference between
the conviction that a thing exists, and a clear knowledge of the nature
of the thing in the existence of which we believe.
CHAPTER LXXI.
RELIGION AND THE HUMAN MIND IN EUROPE.
As we are to examine what was, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries,
the conduct of the Church in reference to innovators, we will avail
ourselves of the excellent opportunity afforded by this epoch for
noticing the progress of the human mind. It has been said that
in Europe intellectual development was exclusively theological.
This is true, and necessarily so; all the faculties of man receive
their development according to the circumstances that surround
him; and as his health, his temperament, his strength, his color
even, and his stature depend upon climate, food, mode of life, and
other circumstances affecting him, so in like manner his moral
and intellectual faculties bear the stamp of the principles which
predominate in the family and society of which he forms a constituent
part. Now, in Europe, religion was the predominating element; in
every thing religion made herself heard and felt; nowhere was there a
principle of life or action discoverable unconnected with religion. It
was quite natural, therefore, that in Europe all the faculties of man
should have their development in a religious sense. A little attention
will show us that this was the case not with the intellect only, but
likewise with the heart, with the passions even, and with the whole
moral man; just as, in whatever direction we go in Europe, we meet
at every step with some monument of religion; so whatever faculty we
examine in the individual European, we find upon it the impress of
religion.
And the case was the same with families and society as with
individuals; religion was equally predominant in both. Wherever man
has progressed towards a state of perfection, we observe a similar
phenomenon; and it is an invariable fact in the history of the human
race, that no society ever entered on the road to civilization, save
under the direction and impulse of religious principles. True or
false, rational or absurd, wherever man is on the road to improvement,
these principles are found. Some nations, indeed, may well excite our
pity at the monstrous superstitions into which they have fallen; but
we still must acknowledge, that, under these very superstitions, lay
concealed germs of good that did not fail to produce considerable
benefits. The Egyptians, Phœnicians, Greeks, and Romans were all
extremely superstitious; yet the progress they made in civilization
and intellectual culture was such, that their monuments and memorials
strike us even yet with admiration. It is easy to smile at an
extravagant observance or a senseless dogma; but we should remember
that the growth and preservation of certain moral principles cannot
be otherwise secured than under the protecting shade of religious
belief. Now, these principles are most indispensably necessary to
prevent individuals from being monstrously changed, and to maintain
the social and family ties unbroken. Much has been said against the
immorality tolerated, permitted, and sometimes even taught by certain
forms of religion; and certainly nothing is more lamentable than to
behold man thus led astray by that which ought to be his best guide.
Let us, however, look for a reality beneath these shadows, which appear
at first so gloomy, and we shall soon discover some rays of light that
may lead us to regard false religions, not indeed with indulgence,
but with less horror than those infamous systems which make matter
self-existent, and pleasure the only divinity.
To preserve the idea of moral good and evil, an idea without meaning
except in the supposition that there exists a divine power, is itself
an inestimable advantage. Now this advantage adheres inseparably to
every form of religion, even to those that make the most absurd and
most criminal applications of the idea of good and evil. Doubtless, the
people of antiquity, and those of our own time who have not received
the light of Christianity, have gone most deplorably astray; but, in
the midst of their very wanderings, there always remains a certain
degree of light; and this light, however dimly it shines, however faint
and feeble its rays, is incomparably better than the thick darkness of
atheism. Between the nations of antiquity and those of Europe there is
this very remarkable difference, that the former passed from a state of
infancy to a state of civilization; while the latter advanced to this,
in passing from that undefinable state which, in Europe, was the result
of the invasion of the barbarians, of the confused mixture of a young
with a decrepit society, of rude and ferocious nations with others that
were civilized, cultivated, or rather effeminate. Hence, amongst the
ancients the imagination was developed before the intellect, whilst
amongst Europeans the intellect came before the imagination. With the
former, poetry came first; with the latter, what is termed dialectics
and metaphysics.
What is the reason of so striking a difference? When a people are yet
in their infancy, either an infancy properly so called, or having lived
long in ignorance, in a state similar to that of an infant people, we
find them rich in sensations, but very poor in ideas. Nature, with
her majesty, her wonders, and her mysteries, affects such a people
the most; their language is grand, picturesque, and highly poetical;
their passions are not refined, but, on the other hand, they are
very energetic and violent. Now an intellect that ingenuously seeks
the light, loves truth in its purity and simplicity, confesses and
embraces it readily, lending itself neither to subtilties, artifices,
nor disputes. The least thing that makes a vivid impression upon the
senses or the imagination of such a people fills them with surprise and
wonder; you cannot inspire them with enthusiasm without setting before
them something heroic and sublime.
On the first glance at the state of the people of Europe in the middle
ages, we perceive in them a certain resemblance to an infant people,
but, at the same time, a very striking difference on several points.
Their passions are very strong, they are pleased beyond every thing
with the wonderful and the extraordinary, and, for want of realities,
their imagination conjures up gigantic phantoms. The profession of arms
is their favorite occupation; they rush eagerly into the most perilous
adventures, and meet them with incredible courage. All this indicates a
development of the feelings of sensibility and imagination, inasmuch as
they produce intrepidity and valor; but, strange to say, together with
these dispositions, we find a singular taste for things the most purely
intellectual; with the most lively, ardent, and picturesque reality,
we find associated a taste for the coldest and barest abstractions.
A knight, with the cross on his shoulder, gorgeously clad, covered
with trophies, beaming with glory won in a hundred combats; a
subtile dialectician, disputing on the system of the Nominalists,
and urging his subtilely devised abstractions till he becomes
unintelligible;--these are certainly two characters very dissimilar,
and yet they exist together in the same society; both have their
prestige, receive the greatest homage, and are followed by enthusiastic
admirers. Even when we have taken into account the singular position
of the European nations at that period, it is not easy to assign a
cause for this anomaly. We can easily understand how the people of
Europe, emerging, for the most part, from the forests of the North, and
engaged for a long time either in intestine wars or in conflicts with
vanquished tribes, should have preserved, together with their warlike
habits, a strong and lively imagination and violent passions; but it
is not so easy to account for their taste for an order of ideas purely
metaphysical and dialectical. When, however, we come to look deeply
into the matter, we discover that this apparent anomaly had its origin
in the very nature of things. How is it that a people in their infancy
have so much imagination and sensibility? Because the objects by which
these faculties are naturally excited abound around them; because
individuals, being continually exposed to the influence of external
things, these objects operate upon them more forcibly. Man first feels
and imagines; later he understands and reflects: this is the natural
order in which his faculties begin to operate. Hence, with every people
the development of the imagination and of the passions precedes that of
the intellect; the passions and the imagination finding their object
and aliment before the intellect. This accounts, also, for the fact
that the poetical always precedes the philosophical era. From this
it follows, that nations in their infancy think little, as they want
ideas; and this is the chief distinctive mark between them and the
people of Europe at the period we are speaking of. In fact, _ideas_ at
that time _abounded in Europe_; and hence the purely intellectual was
held in such repute even amidst the most profound ignorance. Hence,
also, the intellect strove to shine even before its time appeared to
have arrived. Sound ideas respecting God, respecting man and society,
were already everywhere disseminated, thanks to the incessant teaching
of Christianity; and as there still remained numerous traces of the
wisdom of antiquity, both Christian and Pagan, the consequence was,
that every man possessed of a little learning had, in fact, a great
fund of ideas.
It is clear, however, that notwithstanding these advantages, the
minds of men could not, amidst the chaos of erudition and philosophy
that then presented itself, escape the confusion naturally resulting
from the wide-spread ignorance, occasioned by a long succession of
revolutions. They could not possess sufficient discrimination and
judgment to pursue all at once, and with success, the study of the
Bible, of the writings of the holy Fathers, of the civil and canon
law, of the works of Aristotle, and of the Arabian commentaries. Yet
these were all studied at the same time; on all these, disputes were
zealously maintained; and the errors and extravagances which in such
a state of things were inevitable were accompanied by the presumption
that is invariably inherent in ignorance. To succeed in explaining
certain passages of the Bible, of the Fathers, of the codes, and of
the works of philosophers, great preparatory labors were necessary,
as the experience of subsequent ages has proved. It was necessary
to study languages, to examine archives and monuments, to collect
together from all parts an immense mass of materials; then, to reduce
these to order, to compare them together, and to discriminate between
them; in a word, it was necessary to possess a rich fund of learning,
enlightened by the torch of criticism. Now all this was then wanting,
and could only be attained in the course of ages. The consequence was
inevitable, considering the mania that existed for explaining every
thing. If a difficulty arose, and the facts and knowledge requisite
for its solution were wanting, they adopted a roundabout way; instead
of seeking the support derivable from facts, the disputants took their
stand upon an idea; substituting some subtle abstraction for solid
reasoning; where they found it impossible to form a body of sound
doctrine, they threw together a confused mass of ideas and words. Who
could repress a smile, or not feel pity for Abelard, for instance,
promising his disciples to explain to them the prophet Ezechiel, with
very little time for preparation, and actually fulfilling his promise?
I would ask the reader whether, in the middle of the thirteenth
century, an explanation of Ezechiel, given with only a slight
preparation, could have been successful or interesting?
The study of dialectics and metaphysics was embraced with so much
ardor, that in a short time these branches of knowledge superseded all
others. The consequences were prejudicial to the minds of men; their
attention being wholly engrossed by this object of their choice, the
pursuit of more solid learning was regarded with indifference--history
was neglected, literature unnoticed, in a word, the mind was only half
developed. Every thing appertaining to the imagination and the feelings
was sacrificed to the cultivation of the intellect; not, indeed, in
its most useful operations,--the formation of a clear and perfect
perception, of a mature judgment, of a habit of sound and accurate
reasoning,--but in those which are astute, subtle, and extravagant.
Those who would reproach the Church for her conduct at that period
in reference to innovators have a very imperfect understanding of
the actual condition of Europe as regards science and religion. We
have already seen that the intellectual development was religious;
consequently, even when it deviated from the right path, it still
retained this character, and the oddest subtilties were applied to
mysteries the most sublime. Almost all the heretics of the time were
renowned dialecticians, and their errors arose from an excess of
subtilty. Roscelin, one of the leading dialecticians of his time,
was the founder, or at least one of the leaders of the sect of the
Nominalists. Abelard was celebrated for the readiness of his talents,
his skill in disputation, and his address in explaining every thing to
suit his thesis. The abuse of his intellect led him into the errors
which we have already spoken of--errors which he would have avoided,
had he not proudly yielded himself up to his own vain thoughts. The
mania for subtilising every thing drew Gilbert de la Poirée into
the most lamentable errors on the subject of the Divinity; Amaury,
another celebrated philosopher, after the fashion of the time, took
up so warmly the question of Aristotle's primordial matter, that he
ended by declaring matter to be God. The Church strenuously opposed
these errors, which arose in great numbers in minds led astray by vain
arguments, and puffed up with foolish pride. It would argue a strange
misconception of the true interests of science, to suppose that the
Church's resistance to these raving innovators was not most favorable
to intellectual progress.
These headstrong men, eager in the pursuit of knowledge, and captivated
by the first chimera presented to their imagination, stood greatly in
need of some discreet authority to restrain them within the bounds
of reason and moderation. The intellect had scarcely taken the first
steps in the career of knowledge, and yet fancied it already knew every
thing, "pretending to know all things except the _nescio_, I know not,"
as St. Bernard reproaches the vain Abelard. Why should we not, for the
good of humanity, and the credit of the human intellect, approve the
condemnation pronounced by the Church against the errors of Gilbert,
which aimed at nothing less than the overthrow of the ideas that we
have of God? If Amaury and his disciple David de Dinant are smitten by
the sentence of the Church, it is because they destroy the idea of the
Divinity by confounding the Creator with _primordial matter_. Was it
for the advantage of Europe that its intellectual movement should be
commenced by precipitating itself at the very outset into the abyss of
pantheism?
Had the human intellect followed in its development the way marked out
for it by the Church, European civilization would have gained at least
two centuries; the fourteenth century would have been as far advanced
as the sixteenth was. To convince ourselves of the truth of this
assertion, we have only to compare writings with writings, and men with
men; the men most firmly attached to the faith of the Church attained
to such eminence that they left the age in which they lived far behind
them. Roscelin's antagonist was St. Anselm; the latter always remained
faithful to the authority of the Church; the former rebelled against
her: and who, let met ask, would have the hardihood to compare the
dialectician of Compiègne with the learned Archbishop of Canterbury?
How vast the difference between the profound and skilful metaphysician
who composed the Monologue and the Prosologue, and the frivolous leader
of the disputes of the Nominalists! Have the subtilties and cavillings
of Roscelin any weight whatever against the lofty thoughts of the man
who, in the eleventh century, to prove the existence of God, could
reject all vain and captious reasonings, concentrate himself within
himself, consult his own ideas, compare them with their object, and
demonstrate the existence of God from the very idea of God, thus
anticipating Descartes by five hundred years? Who best understood the
true interests of science? Show me how the intellect of St. Anselm was
degraded or shackled by the influence of the formidable authority of
the Church, by any usurpation on the part of Popes of the rights of
the human mind. And can Abelard himself be compared, either as a man,
or as a writer, with his Catholic adversary, St. Bernard? Abelard was
a perfect master of all the subtilties of the schools; noisy disputes
were his amusement; he was intoxicated with the applause of his
disciples, who were dazzled by their master's talents and courage, and
still more by the learned follies of the age; yet what has become of
his works? Who reads them? Who ever thinks of finding in them a single
page of sound reasoning, the description of a single great event, or a
picture of the manners of the time, in other words, the least matter of
interest to science or history? On the contrary, what man of learning
has not often sought this in the immortal works of St. Bernard?
It is impossible to find a more sublime personification of the Church
combating against the heretics of his time than the illustrious Abbot
of Clairvaux, contending against all innovators, and speaking, if we
may use the term, in the name of the Catholic faith. No one could more
worthily represent the ideas and sentiments which the Church endeavored
to diffuse amongst mankind, nor more faithfully delineate the course
through which Catholicity would have led the human mind. Let us pause
for a moment in the presence of this gigantic mind, which attained to
an eminence far beyond any of its contemporaries. This extraordinary
man fills the world with his name--upheaves it by his words--sways it
by his influence; in the midst of darkness he is its light; he forms,
as it were, a mysterious link, connecting the two epochs of St. Jerome
and St. Augustine, of Bossuet and Bourdaloue. In the midst of a general
relaxation and corruption of morals, by the strictest observances and
the most perfect purity he is proof against every assault. Ignorance
prevails throughout all classes; he studies night and day to enlighten
his mind. A false and counterfeit erudition usurps the place of true
knowledge; he knows its unsoundness, disdains and despises it; and his
eagle eye discovers at a glance that the star of truth moves at an
immense distance from this false reflection, from this crude mass of
subtilties and follies, which the men of his time termed philosophy. If
at that period there existed any useful learning, it was to be sought
in the Bible, and in the writings of the holy Fathers; to the study
of these, therefore, St. Bernard devotes himself unremittingly. Far
from consulting the vain babblers who are arguing and declaiming in
the schools, St. Bernard seeks his inspirations in the silence of the
cloister, or in the august sanctuary of the temple; if he goes out, it
is to contemplate the great book of nature, to study eternal truths in
the solitude of the desert, and, as he himself has expressed it, "in
forests of beech-trees."
Thus did this great man, rising superior to the prejudices of his
time, avoid the evil produced in his contemporaries by the method
then prevailing. By this method the imagination and the feelings were
stifled; the judgment warped; the intellect sharpened to excess; and
learning converted into a labyrinth of confusion. Read the works
of the sainted Abbot of Clairvaux, and you will find that all his
faculties go, as it were, hand in hand. If you look for imagination,
you will find the finest coloring, faithful portraits, and splendid
descriptions. If you want feeling, you will learn how skilfully he
finds his way into the heart, captivates, subdues, and fashions it to
his will. Now he strikes a salutary fear into the hardened sinner,
tracing with great force the formidable picture of the divine justice
and the eternal vengeance; then he consoles and sustains the man who
is sinking under worldly adversity, the assaults of his passions, the
recollection of his transgressions, or an exaggerated fear of the
divine justice. Do you want pathos? Listen to his colloquies with
Jesus and Mary; hear him speaking of the blessed Virgin with such
enrapturing sweetness, that he seems to exhaust all the epithets that
the liveliest hope and the most pure and tender love can suggest. Would
you have vigor and vehemence of style, and that irresistible torrent
of eloquence which nothing can resist, which carries the mind beyond
itself, fires it with enthusiasm, compels it to enter upon the most
arduous paths, and to undertake the most heroic enterprises? See him
with his burning words inflaming the zeal of the people, nobles, and
kings; moving them to quit their homes, to take up arms, and to unite
in numerous armies that pour into Asia to rescue the Holy Sepulchre.
This extraordinary man is every where met with, every where heard.
Entirely free from ambition, he possesses, nevertheless, a leading
influence in the great affairs of Europe: though fond of solitude
and retirement, he is continually obliged to quit the obscurity of
the cloister to assist in the councils of kings and popes. He never
flatters, never betrays the truth, never dissembles the sacred ardor
which burns within his breast; and yet he is every where listened to
with profound respect; his stern voice is heard in the cottages of the
poor and in the palaces of kings; he admonishes with terrible severity
the most obscure monk and the Sovereign Pontiff.
In the midst of so much ardor and activity, his mind loses none of
its clearness or precision. His exposition of a point of doctrine is
remarkable for ease and lucidity; his demonstrations are vigorous and
conclusive; his reasoning is conducted with a force of logic that
presses close upon his adversary, and leaves him no means of escape: in
defence, his quickness and address are surprising. In his answers he
is clear and precise; in repartee, quick and penetrating; and without
dealing in the subtilties of the schools, he displays wonderful tact in
disentangling truth from error, sound reason from artifice and fraud.
Here is a man formed entirely and exclusively under the influence of
Catholicity; a man who never strayed from the pale of the Church, who
never dreamed of setting his intellect free from the yoke of authority;
and yet he rises like a mighty pyramid above all the men of his time.
To the eternal honor of the Catholic Church, and utterly to disprove
the accusation brought against her, of exerting an influence hostile
to the freedom of the human mind, I must observe that St. Bernard
was not the only man who rose superior to the age, and pointed out
the way to genuine progress. It is unquestionably certain, that the
most distinguished men of that period, those least influenced by the
evils that so long kept the human mind in pursuit of mere vanities and
shadows, were precisely the men most devotedly attached to Catholicity.
These men set an example of what was necessary to be done for the
advancement of learning; an example that for a long time had, it is
true, but few followers, but which found some in subsequent ages: now
it is to be observed that the progress of learning was due to the
credit obtained by this method--I speak of the study of antiquity.
The sacred sciences were the chief object of attention at this
period; as the intellect was theologically developed, dialectics and
metaphysics were studied with a view to their application to theology.
With Roscelin, Abelard, Gilbert de la Poirée, and Amaury, the phrase
was: "Let us reason, subtilise, and apply our systems to all sorts
of questions; let our reason be our rule and guide, without which
knowledge is impossible." With St. Bernard, St. Anselm, Hugh and
Richard de St. Victor, Peter Lombard, on the contrary, it was: "Let us
see what antiquity teaches; let us study the works of the holy Fathers;
let us analyse and compare their texts; we cannot place our dependence
exclusively on arguments, which are sometime dangerous and sometimes
futile." Which of these two judgments has been actually confirmed?
Which of these methods was adopted when real progress was to be made?
Was not recourse had to an unremitting study of ancient works? Was it
not found necessary to throw aside the cavils of the dialecticians?
Protestants themselves boast of having taken this way; their
theologians consider it an honor to be versed in antiquity; and would
be offended if treated as mere dialecticians. On which side, then, was
reason? With the heretics, or with the Church? Who best understood
the method most favorable to intellectual progress? The heretical
dialectician, or the orthodox doctor? To these questions there can only
be one reply. These are not mere opinions--they are facts; not an empty
theory, but the actual history of learning, as known by all the world,
and as represented to us in irrefragable documents. Unless prepossessed
by the authority of M. Guizot, the reader certainly cannot complain
that I have eschewed questions of history, or claimed his belief on my
own bare word.
Unhappily, mankind seemed doomed never to find the true road without
going a long way round; thus the intellect, taking the very worst
way of all, went in pursuit of subtilties and cavils, forsaking the
beaten track of reason and good sense. At the beginning of the twelfth
century the evil had reached to such a height, that to apply a remedy
was no slight undertaking; nor is it easy to say how far matters
might have gone, nor what evils would have ensued in various ways, had
not Providence, who never abandons the care of the moral, any more
than of the physical universe, raised up an extraordinary genius,
who, rising to an immense height above the men of his age, reduced
the chaos to order. Out of the undigested mass, by retrenching here,
adding there, classifying and explaining, this man collected a fund
of real learning. Persons acquainted with the history of learning at
that time will readily understand that I speak of St. Thomas Aquinas.
Rightly to appreciate the extraordinary merit of this great Doctor,
we must view him in connection with the times and circumstances of
which we are treating. Beholding in St. Thomas Aquinas one of the most
luminous, most comprehensive, and most penetrating intellects that have
ever adorned the human race, we are almost tempted to think that his
appearance in the thirteenth century was inopportune; we regret that
he did not live in a more recent age, to enter the lists with the most
illustrious men of whom modern Europe can boast. But, upon further
reflection, we find that the human mind owes so much to him, we see so
clearly the reason why his appearance at the time when Europe received
his lectures was most opportune, that we have no other feeling left
than one of profound admiration of the designs of Providence.
What was the philosophy of his time? Amidst the strange compound of
Greek and Arabian philosophy and of Christian ideas, what would have
become of dialectics, metaphysics, and morality? We have already seen
what sort of fruit began to grow out of such combinations, favored by
a degree of ignorance unable to distinguish the real nature of things,
and encouraged by pride that pretended to a knowledge of every thing.
And yet the evil was only beginning; its further development would
have been attended with symptoms still more alarming. Fortunately,
this great man appeared; the first touch of his powerful hand advanced
learning two or three centuries. He could not root out the evil, but at
least he applied a remedy; owing to his indisputable superiority, his
method and his learning soon won their way everywhere. He became, as it
were, the centre of a grand system, round which all other scholastic
writers were forced to revolve; he thus prevented a multitude of errors
that without his intervention would have been almost inevitable. He
found the schools in a state of complete anarchy; he reduced them
to order; and on account of his angelic intellect, and his eminent
sanctity, was looked up to as their sublime dictator. This is the view
I take of the mission of St. Thomas; it will be viewed in the same
light by all those who study his works, and do not content themselves
with a hasty perusal of a biographical article respecting him.
Now this man was a Catholic, and the Catholic Church venerates him upon
her altars, and I do not see that his mind was shackled by authority
in matters of faith; it goes abroad freely amongst all the branches
of knowledge; he unites in his person such extensive and profound
acquirements as to appear a prodigy for the age in which he lived. We
observe in St. Thomas, notwithstanding the purely scholastic method
which he adopted, the same characteristic that we discover in all the
eminent Catholic writers of the times. He reasons much; but it is easy
to see that he does not trust entirely to his reason, but proceeds with
that wise diffidence which is an unequivocal sign of real learning.
He avails himself of the doctrines of Aristotle; but evidently would
have made less use of them, and more of the Fathers, but for his
leading idea, which was, to make the philosophy of his time subservient
to the defence of religion. The reader must not suppose that his
metaphysics and moral philosophy are a congeries of inexplicable
enigmas, as a knowledge of the period at which he wrote might lead us
to apprehend. Nothing of the kind; and any one who entertains such an
idea has evidently not spent much time in the study of his writings.
His metaphysical works, it must be acknowledged, make us perfectly
acquainted with the dominant ideas of the time; but it is equally
undeniable, that in every page we meet with the most luminous passages
on the most complicated questions of ideology, ontology, cosmology,
and psychology; so much so, that we almost imagine we are reading the
works of a philosopher who wrote after the fullest development of the
sciences had been attained.
What his political ideas were, we have already seen; were it
necessary, and did the nature of the present work permit, I might here
produce many fragments from his _Treatise on Laws and on Justice_,
distinguished for such solid principles, such lofty views, so profound
a knowledge of the nature of society, that they would occupy an
honorable position amongst the best works on legislation written in
modern times. His treatises on virtues and vices, whether considered
generally, or in detail, exhaust the subject, and defy all subsequent
writers to produce a single idea of any importance that has not been
already either developed, or at least suggested in them. Above all, his
works are remarkable for moderation and extreme reserve in doctrinal
expositions, in which respect they are eminently conformable to the
spirit of Catholicity; and assuredly if all writers had followed in
his footsteps, the field of science would have presented us with
an assembly of sages, and would not have been converted into a
blood-stained arena for furious combatants. Such is his modesty, that
he does not relate a single incident in his life, private or public;
from him we hear nothing but the language of enlightened reason, calmly
dispensing its treasures: the man, with his fame, his misfortunes, his
labors, and all his vain pretensions, with which other writers are wont
to weary us, never appears for an instant.[41]
CHAPTER LXXII.
ON THE PROGRESS OF THE HUMAN MIND FROM THE ELEVENTH CENTURY TO THE
PRESENT TIME.
I think I have satisfactorily vindicated the Catholic Church from the
reproaches cast upon her by her enemies, for her conduct during the
eleventh and twelfth centuries in reference to the development of the
human mind. Let us now take a rapid survey of the march of intellect up
to our own times, and see what titles Protestantism can produce to the
gratitude of the friends of progress in human knowledge.
If I mistake not, the following are the phases through which the human
mind has passed, since the revival of learning in the eleventh century.
First came the epoch of subtilties, with its heaps of crude erudition;
then the age of criticism, with appropriate attempts at grave
controversies on the meaning of records and monuments; and finally
came the reflecting age, and the inauguration of the philosophical
period. The eleventh and succeeding centuries, to the sixteenth,
were characterized by a fondness for dialectics and erudite trifles;
criticism and controversy formed the distinctive characteristics of the
sixteenth, and part of the seventeenth centuries; the philosophical
spirit began to prevail towards the middle of the seventeenth, and
continued to our own time. Now of what advantage was Protestantism to
learning? None; Protestantism found learning already accumulated--this
I can easily prove--Erasmus and Louis Vives shone in the time of Luther.
Did Protestantism promote the study of criticism? Yes; just as an
epidemic that decimates nations aids the progress of the medicinal
art. But we must not suppose that the taste for this kind of literary
labor would not have been disseminated without the aid of the
pseudo-Reformation. As monuments came to light, as a knowledge of
languages became more general, as the public acquired clearer and more
correct notions of history, people would naturally set themselves to
discriminate between the apocryphal and the authentic. The necessary
documents were at hand, and were studied unremittingly; for this was
the favorite taste of the epoch. Under such circumstances, how is it
possible there should have existed no desire to examine to what author,
and to what age, such documents severally belonged; to investigate
how far ignorance or dishonesty had falsified them, had taken from,
or added to them? On this subject, I need only relate what took place
relative to the famous decretals of Isidore Mercator. These decretals
had been received, without opposition, during the centuries anterior
to the fifteenth, owing to the want of antiquarian and critical
research; but the moment that knowledge and facts began to accumulate,
the edifice of imposture gave way. As early as the fifteenth century,
Cardinal Cusa challenged the authenticity of certain decretals that had
been supposed to be anterior to Pope Siricius; and the reflections of
the learned Cardinal led the way to other attacks of a similar kind. A
serious discussion arose, in which Protestants naturally took part; but
it would unquestionably have been engaged in all the same, if Catholic
writers had been left entirely to themselves. When the learned came to
read the codes of Theodosius and Justinian, the works of antiquity, and
collections of ecclesiastical records, they could not possibly fail to
observe that the spurious decretals contained sentences and fragments
belonging to an era posterior to the time to which they were referred;
and when once such doubts had arisen, error was sure to be promptly
exposed.
We may say of controversy, what we have just said of criticism. There
would have been no want of controversy, even if the unity of the faith
had never been violated. In support of this assertion, the recollection
of what occurred amongst the different schools of Catholics is
quite conclusive. These schools were engaged in controversy amongst
themselves, in the presence even of the common opponent: and we may
rest assured that, if their attention had not been partially diverted
by that enemy, their polemical discussions would have been maintained
only with the greater energy and warmth. Protestants have no more
the advantage over Catholics, as regards controversy than as regards
criticism. However true it be that some of our theologians did not see
the necessity of opposing the enemy with arms superior to those taken
from the arsenal of Aristotelian philosophy, it is quite certain that
a great number of them took up a sufficiently lofty position, and were
thoroughly impressed with the importance of the crisis, and urged the
introduction of very great modifications into the course of theological
studies. Bellarmin, Melchior Cano, Petau, and many others, were no way
inferior to the most skilful Protestants, whatever may have been the
boasted scientific merits of the defenders of error.
The knowledge of the learned languages must have contributed in an
extraordinary degree to the progress of critical and controversial
learning. Now I do not see that Catholics were behind others in the
knowledge of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Anthony de Nebrija, Erasmus,
Louis Vives, Lawrence Villa, Leonardus Aretinus, Cardinal Bembo,
Sadolet, Poggio, Melchior Cano, and many others, too numerous to
mention; were they, I ask, trained in Protestantism? Did not the Popes,
moreover, take the lead in this literary movement? Who patronized the
learned with greater liberality? Who supplied them with more abundant
resources? Who incurred greater expenses in the purchase of the best
manuscripts? Nor let it be forgotten, that such was the taste for pure
Latinity, that some among the learned objected to read the Vulgate, for
fear of acquiring inelegant phrases.
As regards Greek, we need only bear in mind the causes that led to
its diffusion in Europe, to be convinced that the progress made
in the knowledge of this language owes nothing whatever to the
pseudo-Reformation. It is well known that, after the taking of
Constantinople by the Turks, the literary remains of that unfortunate
nation were brought to the coasts of Italy. In Italy the study of Greek
was first seriously commenced; from Italy it spread to France, and to
the other European states. Half a century before the appearance of
Protestantism, this language was taught in Paris by the Italian Gregory
de Tiferno. At the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth
centuries, Germany itself could boast of the celebrated John Reuchlin,
who taught Greek with great applause, first at Orleans and Poictiers,
and afterwards at Ingolstadt. Reuchlin, being on one occasion at Rome,
so felicitously explained, and read with so pure an accent, a passage
from Thucydides, in the presence of Argyropilus, that the latter,
filled with admiration, exclaimed: "_Gracia nostra exilio transvolavit
Alpes_; our exiled Greece has crossed the Alps."
Respecting Hebrew, I will transcribe a passage from the Abbé Goujet:
"Protestants," says he, "would fain have it thought that they
effected the revival of this language in Europe; but they are forced
to acknowledge, that whatever they know of Hebrew they owe to the
Catholics, who were their teachers, and the sources whence, even to
this day, is obtained all that is most valuable in Oriental literature.
John Reuchlin, who lived the greater part of his time in the fifteenth
century, was unquestionably a Catholic, and one of the most skilful
Hebrew scholars, and was also the first Christian who reduced the
teaching of that language to a system. John Weissel of Groningen had
taught him the elements of this language, and had himself pupils in
whom he had awakened a love for this study. In like manner, it was by
the exertions of Picus de Mirandula, who was a strict Catholic, that a
taste for the study of Hebrew was revived in the West. At the time of
the Council of Trent, most of the heretics who then knew that language
had learned it in the bosom of the Church they had forsaken; and their
vain subtilties respecting the meaning of the sacred text excited the
faithful to still greater assiduity in the study of a language so
well calculated to insure their own triumph and the defeat of their
opponents. In devoting themselves to this branch of study, moreover,
they were only following out the intentions of Pope Clement V., who,
as early as the beginning of the fourteenth century, had ordained that
Greek, and Hebrew, and even Arabic and Chaldean, should be publicly
taught, for the benefit of foreigners, at Rome, at Paris, at Oxford, at
Bologna, and at Salamanca. The design of this Pope, who so well knew
the advantages resulting from well-conducted studies, was, to augment
the learning of the Church by the study of languages, and to raise
up doctors capable of defending her against every form of error. By
means of these languages, and more especially of Hebrew, he intended
to renew the study of the sacred books, that the latter, when read in
the original, might appear more worthy of the Holy Spirit who inspired
them, and by their combined grandeur and simplicity, when better
known, awaken greater reverence for them; and that, without derogating
from the respect due to the Latin version, it might be felt that an
intimate acquaintance with the originals was peculiarly serviceable in
confirming the faith of believers, and confuting heretics." (L'Abbé
Goujet, _Discours sur le renouvellement des Etudes, et principalement
des Etudes ecclésiastiques depuis le quatorzième siècle_.)
One of the causes which contributed the most to the development of
the human mind was the creation of great centres of instruction,
collecting the most illustrious talents and learning, and diffusing
rays of light in all directions. I know not how men could forget that
this idea was not due to the pretended Reformation, seeing that most of
the universities of Europe were established long before the birth of
Luther. That of Oxford was established in 895; Cambridge in 1280; that
of Prague, in Bohemia, in 1358; that of Louvain, in Belgium, in 1425;
that of Vienna, in Austria, in 1365; that of Ingolstadt, in Germany,
in 1372; that of Leipsic in 1408; that of Basle, in Switzerland, in
1469; that of Salamanca in 1200; that of Alcala in 1517. It would be
superfluous to notice the antiquity of the universities of Paris,
of Bologna, of Ferrara, and of a great many others, which attained
the highest renown long before the advent of Protestantism. The
Popes, it is well known, took an active part in the establishment
of universities, granting them privileges, and bestowing upon them
the highest honors and distinctions. How can any one, then, venture
to assert, that Rome has opposed the progress of learning and the
sciences, in order to keep the people in darkness and ignorance? As if
Divine Providence had intended to confound these future calumniators
of His Church, Protestantism made its appearance precisely at the
time when, under the auspices of a renowned Pope, the progress in
the science, in literature and the arts was most active. Posterity,
judging of our disputes with impartiality, will undoubtedly pass a
severe sentence upon those pretended philosophers, who are constantly
endeavoring to prove from history, that Catholicity has impeded the
progress of the human mind, and that scientific progress has been all
owing to the cry of liberty raised in central Germany. Yes; sensible
men in future ages, like those of our own times, will form a correct
judgment upon this subject, when they reflect that Luther began to
propagate his errors _in the age of Leo X_.
Certainly, the court of Rome could not at that time be reproached
with obscurantism. Rome was at the head of all progress, which she
urged onwards with the most active zeal, the most ardent enthusiasm;
so much so, indeed, that if she were censurable at all--if there were
in her conduct any thing of which history should disapprove--it was
rather that her march was too quick than too slow. Had another St.
Bernard addressed Leo X., he would assuredly not have blamed him for
abusing his authority to impede the march of the human intellect and
the progress of learning. "The Reformation," says M. de Chateaubriand,
"deeply imbued with the spirit of its founder--a coarse and jealous
monk--declared itself the enemy of the arts. By prohibiting the
exercise of the imaginative faculties, it clipped the wings of genius,
and made her plod on foot. It raised an outcry against certain alms
destined for the erection of the basilica of St. Peter for the use
of the Christian world. Would the Greeks have refused the assistance
solicited from their piety for the building of a temple to Minerva? Had
the Reformation been completely successful from the beginning, it would
have established, for a time at least, another species of barbarism:
viewing as superstition the pomp of divine worship; as idolatry the
_chefs-d'œuvre_ of sculpture, of architecture, and of painting, its
tendency was to annihilate lofty eloquence and sublime poetry--to
degrade taste, by repudiating its models--to introduce a dry, cold,
and captious formality into the operations of the mind--to substitute
in society affectation and materialism in lieu of ingenuousness and
intellectuality, and to make machinery take the place of manual and
mental operations. These are truths confirmed by everyday experience.
"Amongst the various branches of the reformed religion, their
approximation to the beautiful and sublime is always found to be
proportioned to the amount of Catholic truth they have retained. In
England, where an ecclesiastical hierarchy has been upheld, literature
has had its classic era. Lutheranism preserves some sparks of
imagination, which Calvinism aims at utterly extinguishing; and so on,
till we come to Quakerism, which would reduce social life to unpolished
manners and the practice of trades. Shakspeare, in all probability,
was a Catholic; Milton has evidently imitated some parts of the poems
of St. Avitus and Masenius; Klopstock has borrowed very largely from
the faith of Rome. In our own days, in Germany, the high imaginative
powers have been put forth only when the spirit of Protestantism
had begun to decline. It was in treating Catholic subjects that the
genius of Goethe and Schiller was manifested; Rousseau and Madame
de Staël are, indeed, illustrious exceptions to this rule; but were
they Protestants after the model of the first disciples of Calvin?
At this very day, painters, architects, and sculptors, of all the
conflicting creeds, go to seek inspiration at Rome, where they find
universal toleration. Europe, nay, the whole world, is covered with
monuments of the Catholic religion. To it we are indebted for that
Gothic architecture, which rivals in its details, and eclipses in
its magnificence, the monuments of Greece. It is now three centuries
since Protestantism arose,--it is powerful in England, in Germany,
in America,--it is professed by millions of men,--and what has it
erected? It can show only the ruins it has made; on which perhaps, it
has planted gardens or built factories. Rebelling against the authority
of tradition, the experience of centuries, and the venerable wisdom of
ages, Protestantism let go its hold on the past, and planted a society
without roots. Acknowledging for their founder a German monk of the
sixteenth century, the reformers renounced the wonderful genealogy
that unites Catholics, through a succession of great and holy men,
with Jesus Christ Himself, and, through Him, with the patriarchs and
the earliest of mankind. The Protestant era, from the first hours of
its existence, refused all relationship with the era of that Leo who
protected the civilized world against Attila, and also with the era of
that other Leo, at whose coming barbarism vanished, and society, now
no longer in need of defence, put on the ornaments of civilization."
(_Etud. Histor._, François I.)
It is much to be regretted that the author of such noble sentiments,
who so accurately describes the effects of Protestantism on literature
and the arts, should have said, that "the Reformation was, properly
speaking, philosophic truth, under the guise of Christianity, attacking
religious truth." (_Etud. Histor._, Preface.) What is the meaning
of these words? We shall best understand them from the illustrious
author's own explanation. "Religious truth," says he, "is the knowledge
of one God manifested in a form of worship. Philosophic truth is the
threefold knowledge of things intellectual, moral, and natural."
(_Etud. Histor._, Exposition.) It is difficult to imagine how any one
who admits the truth of the Catholic religion, and, as a necessary
consequence, the falsehood of Protestantism, can define the latter to
be, philosophic truth at war with religious truth. In the natural,
as well as in the supernatural, order of things, in philosophy as in
religion, all truths come from God, all end in Him. There cannot,
therefore, be any antagonism between truths of one order and truths of
another order; between religious and true philosophy, between nature
and grace, no antagonism is possible. Truth is that which is; for
truth resides in beings themselves; we should rather say, it consists
of beings themselves such as they exist, such as they are in their
substance; and hence it is quite incorrect to say that philosophic
truth has ever stood in antagonism to religious truth.
According to the same author "Philosophic truth is neither more nor
less than the independence of the human mind; its tendency being to
make discoveries, and lead to perfection in the three sciences that
come within its sphere, viz. the intellectual, the moral, and the
natural. But philosophic truth," he continues, "looking forwards to
the future, has stood in opposition to religious truth, which adheres
to the past, owing to the immovable nature of the eternal principle
upon which it is founded." (_Etud. Histor._, Exposition.) With all the
respect due to the immortal author of the _Génie du Christianisme_ and
of the _Martyrs_, I must take the liberty to observe, that we find here
a lamentable confusion of ideas. The philosophic truth of which M. de
Chateaubriand here treats, must be either science itself, considered
as an aggregate of truths, or a general knowledge, in which truth and
error are commingled; or, in fine, the whole body of men of learning,
considered as constituting a very influential class in society. In the
first case, it is impossible for philosophic truth to be in antagonism
to religious truth,--that is, to Catholicity; in the second case, the
alleged opposition is nothing extraordinary, for error being in this
case mixed up with truth, will on some points be found to be opposed
to Catholic faith; and, finally, as regards the third hypothesis,
it is unfortunately too true, that many men, distinguished by their
talents and erudition, have been opposed to Catholicity; but, on the
other hand, as great a number of men equally eminent have triumphantly
maintained the truth of Catholicity; hence it would be extremely
illogical to affirm that philosophic truth, even in this sense, is
opposed to religious truth.
It is not my wish to give an unfavorable interpretation to the words of
the illustrious writer; I rather incline to think, that, in his mind,
philosophic truth is nothing but a spirit of independence considered
in a general, vague, and undefined sense, and not as applied to any
object in particular. This is the only way to reconcile assertions
so different; for it is quite clear, that, after he had so severely
condemned the Protestant Reformation, the writer could not proceed
to admit that this same Reformation carried with it philosophic
truth, properly so called, wherein it became opposed to Catholic
doctrines. But, in this case, the language of the illustrious author
is unquestionably wanting in precision; this, however, need not
surprise us, as, upon reflection, we shall find that, in treating
historico-philosophical subjects, precision is not to be expected from
writers whose genius has been wont to soar into the highest regions on
the wings of a sublime poetry.
It was not either in Germany or in England, but in Catholic France,
that the philosophical movement advanced with the greatest freedom
and daring. Descartes, the founder of a new era in philosophy, that
superseded the Aristotelian, and gave a fresh impulse to the study of
logic, of physics, and metaphysics, was a Frenchman and a Catholic.
The greater part of his most distinguished followers were also in
communion with the Roman Church. Philosophy, then, in the highest
sense of the word, owes nothing to Protestantism. Before Leibnitz,
Germany could scarcely reckon a single philosopher of any note; and
the English schools that attained to any thing like celebrity arose
after Descartes' time. We shall find, upon reflection, that France was
the centre of the philosophical movement from the end of the sixteenth
century; and at that period all the Protestant countries were so
backward in this kind of study, that the active progress of philosophy
amongst the Catholics was scarcely noticed by them. In like manner,
it was in the bosom of the Catholic Church that the taste arose for
profound meditations on the secrets of the heart, and on the relations
of the human mind to God and nature, and that sublime abstraction which
concentrates man's faculties, sets him free from the body, and elevates
him to those exalted regions that appear destined to be visited
exclusively by celestial spirits. Is not mysticism, in its purest, most
refined, and most elevated form, found in our Catholic writers of the
golden age? Since that time, what has been published that may not be
met with in the works of St. Teresa, in those of St. John of the Cross,
in the venerable Avila, in Louis de Grenada, and in Louis de Léon?
And Pascal, that man of thought, one of the most vigorous geniuses
of the seventeenth century, who was unhappily deceived for some time
by a hypocritical and canting sect, was he a Protestant? Was it not
he who laid the basis of that philosophico-religious school, whose
investigations, directed at one time to the deepest questions of
religion, at another to those of nature, or to the mysteries of the
human heart, have surrounded truth with a flood of light? Do not the
apologists of Christianity, whether Protestants or Catholics, when
engaged in combating indifference or incredulity, avail themselves by
preference of his _Pensées_? Authors who have written on the philosophy
of history have perhaps surpassed all others in their eagerness to
vilify the Church as the enemy of enlightenment, whilst they represent
Protestantism as the great bulwark of the rights of the mind. Now,
gratitude alone should have induced them to proceed more circumspectly;
they should not forget that the real founder of the philosophy of
history was a Catholic, and that the first and best work ever written
on this subject came from the pen of a Catholic Bishop. It was Bossuet,
in his immortal _Discours sur l'Histoire Universelle_, who first taught
our modern thinkers to take a lofty survey of the human race; to
embrace at one view all the events that have marked the course of ages,
contemplating them in all their vastness and intimate connection, with
all their phases, effects, and causes, and to draw from them salutary
lessons for the instruction both of princes and people. Now, Bossuet
was a Catholic, and, moreover, one of the most trenchant adversaries of
the Protestant Reformation. His fame is heightened too by another work,
in which he completely overthrows the doctrines of the innovators, by
proving their continual variations, and demonstrating that theirs must
be the way of error, seeing that variation is incompatible with truth.
We may ask the abettors of Protestantism, if the Eagle of Meaux feels
in his flight the fetters of the Catholic religion, when, glancing at
the origin and destiny of mankind, at the fall of our first parents and
its consequences, on the revolutions of the East and West, he traces
with such wonderful sublimity the designs of Divine Providence?
As regards the literary movement, I might almost consider myself
relieved from all necessity of combating the reproaches cast upon
Catholicity by its enemies. What, in fact, was the literature of all
the Protestant countries together, at the time when Italy produced
those orators and poets, who, in succeeding ages, have been universally
received as models? Various descriptions of literature were already
quite common in Catholic countries, that were not even known in England
or Germany; and when, at a later period, an attempt was made to fill
up the hiatus, no better means could be found for the purpose than to
take for models the Spanish writers, who had been subject _to Catholic
obscurantism and the fires of the Inquisition_.
Neither the mind, the heart, nor the imagination of man owes any thing
to Protestantism. Before the Reformation these were all in graceful and
vigorous progress; after the Reformation, this progress continued in
the bosom of the Catholic Church as successfully as before. Catholicity
displays a bright array of illustrious men crowned with the glories
they have won amidst the unanimous plaudits of all civilized nations.
Whatever has been said of the tendency of our religion to enslave and
hoodwink the mind, is but calumny. No; that which is born of light,
cannot produce darkness; that which is the work of truth itself, need
not fly from the sun's rays to conceal itself in the bowels of the
earth. The daughter of heaven may walk in the brightness of day, may
dare discussion, may gather around her all the brightest intellects;
well assured that the more closely and attentively they see and
contemplate her, the more pure, the more beauteous and enrapturing will
she appear.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
SUMMARY.--DECLARATION OF THE AUTHOR.
Having reached the end of my difficult enterprise, let me be allowed
to take a retrospective view of the vast space over which I have but
just passed, like the traveller who rests after his labor. The fear of
seeing religious schism introduced into my country; the sight of the
efforts which were made to inculcate Protestant errors amongst us; the
perusal of certain writings, wherein it was stated that the pretended
Reformation had been favorable to the progress of nations,--such were
the motives which inspired me with the idea of undertaking this work.
My object was, to show that neither individuals nor society owe any
thing to Protestantism, either in a religious, social, political, or
literary point of view. I undertook to examine what history tells us,
and what philosophy teaches us, on this point. I was not ignorant
of the immense extent of the questions which I had to enter upon; I
was far from flattering myself that I was able to clear them up in a
becoming manner; nevertheless I set forth upon my journey, with that
courage which is inspired by the love of truth, and the confidence that
one is defending its cause.
When considering the birth of Protestantism, I have endeavored to
take as lofty a view as possible. I have rendered to men that justice
which is due to them; I have attributed a large portion of the evil
to the wretched condition of mankind, to the weakness of our minds,
and to that inheritance of perverseness and ignorance which has been
transmitted to us by the fall of our first parent. Luther, Calvin,
and Zuinglius have disappeared from my eyes; placed in the immense
picture of events, they have been viewed by me as small imperceptible
figures, whose individuality was far from deserving the importance
which was given to them at other periods. Honest in my convictions,
and unreserved in my words, I have acknowledged with candor, but with
sorrow, that there existed certain abuses, and that these abuses were
taken as pretexts when it was wished to break the unity of the faith.
I have allowed that a portion of the blame shall also fall upon men;
but I have also pointed out, that the more you here lay stress upon
the weakness and wickedness of man, the more do you illustrate the
providence of Him who has promised to be with His Church till the
consummation of ages.
By the aid of reasoning and irrefragable experience, I have proved
that the fundamental dogmas of Protestantism show little knowledge of
the human mind, and were a fruitful source of errors and catastrophes.
Then, turning my attention to the development of European civilization,
I have made a continued comparison between Protestantism and
Catholicity; and I believe that I may assert, that I have not hazarded
any proposition of importance without having supported it by the
evidence of historical facts. I have found it necessary to take a
survey of all ages, dating from the commencement of Christianity, and
to observe the different phases under which civilization has appeared;
without this, it would have been impossible to give a complete
vindication of the Catholic religion.
The reader may have observed that the prevailing idea of the work is
this: "Before Protestantism European civilization had reached all the
development which was possible for it; Protestantism perverted the
course of civilization, and produced immense evils in modern society;
the progress which has been made since Protestantism, has been made not
by it, but in spite of it." I have only consulted history, and I have
taken extreme care not to pervert it; I have borne in mind this passage
of holy writ: "Has God, then, need of thy falsehood?" The documents to
which I refer are there; they are to be found in all libraries, ready
to answer; read them, and judge for yourselves.
I am not aware, in the multitude of questions which have presented
themselves to me, and which it has been indispensable for me to
examine, that I have resolved any in a manner not in conformity with
the dogmas of the religion which I was desirous of defending. I am
not aware that, in any passage of my book, I have laid down erroneous
propositions, or expressed myself in ill-sounding terms. Before
publishing my work, I submitted it to the examination of ecclesiastical
authority; and without hesitation, I complied with the slightest
hint on its part, purifying, correcting, and modifying what had been
pointed out as worthy of purification, correction, or modification.
Notwithstanding that, I submit my whole work to the judgment of the
Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church; as soon as the Sovereign
Pontiff, the Vicar of Jesus Christ upon earth, shall pronounce sentence
against any one of my opinions, I will hasten to declare that I
consider that opinion erroneous, and cease to profess it.
NOTES.
NOTE 1, p. 26.
The _History of the Variations_ is one of those works which exhaust
their subject, and which do not admit of reply or addition. If
this immortal _chef-d'œuvre_ be read with attention, the cause of
Protestantism, with respect to faith, is forever decided: there is no
middle way left between Catholicity and infidelity. Gibbon read it in
his youth, and he became a Catholic, abandoning the Protestant religion
in which he had been brought up. When, at a later period, he left the
Catholic Church, he did not become a Protestant, but an unbeliever.
My readers will perhaps like to learn from the mouth of this famous
writer what he thought of the work of Bossuet, and the effect which was
produced on him by its perusal. These are his words: "In the _History
of the Variations_, an attack equally vigorous and well-directed," says
he, "Bossuet shows, by a happy mixture of reasoning and narration,
the errors, mistakes, uncertainties, and contradictions of our first
reformers, whose variations, as he learnedly maintains, bear the
marks of error; _while the uninterrupted unity of the Catholic Church
is a sign and testimony of infallible truth_. I read, approved, and
believed." (Gibbon's _Memoirs_.)
NOTE 2, p. 27.
It has been wished to represent Luther to us as a man of lofty ideas,
of noble and generous feelings, and as a defender of the rights
of the human race. Yet he himself has left us in his writings the
most striking testimony of the violence of his character, of his
disgusting rudeness, and his savage intolerance. Henry VIII., king of
England, undertook to refute the book of Luther called _De Captivitate
Babylonica_; and behold the latter, irritated by such boldness, writes
to the king, and calls him _sacrilegious, mad, senseless, the grossest
of all pigs and of all asses_. It is evident that Luther paid but
little regard to royalty; he did the same with respect to literary
merit. Erasmus, who was perhaps the most learned man of his age, or
who at least surpassed all others in the variety of his knowledge, in
the refinement and _éclat_ of his mind, was not better treated by the
furious innovator, in spite of all the indulgence for which the latter
was indebted to him. As soon as Luther saw that Erasmus did not think
proper to be enrolled in the new sect, he attacked him with so much
violence, that the latter complained of it, saying, "_that in his old
age he was compelled to contend against a savage beast, a furious wild
boar_." Luther did not confine himself to mere words; he proceeded to
acts. It was at his instigation that Carlostad was exiled from the
states of the Duke of Saxony, and was reduced to such misery, that he
was compelled to carry wood, and do other similar things, to gain his
livelihood. In his many disputes with the Zwinglians, Luther did not
belie his character; he called them _damned_, _fools_, _blasphemers_.
As he lavished such epithets on his dissenting companions, we cannot
be astonished that he called the doctors of Louvain _beasts_,
_pigs_, _Pagans_, _Epicureans_, _Atheists_; and that he makes use
of other expressions which decency will not allow us to cite; and
that, launching forth against the Pope, he says, "_He is a mad wolf,
against whom every one ought to take arms, without waiting even for
the order of the magistrates; in this matter there can be no room left
for repentance, except for not having been able to bury the sword in
his breast_;" adding, "that all those who followed the Pope ought to
be pursued like bandit-chiefs, were they kings or emperors." Such
was the spirit of tolerance which animated Luther. And let it not be
imagined that this intolerance was confined to him; it extended to
all the party of the innovators, and its effects were cruelly felt.
We have an unexceptionable witness of this truth in Melancthon, the
beloved disciple of Luther, and one of the most distinguished men
that Protestantism has had. "I find myself under such oppression,"
wrote Melancthon to his friend Camerarius, "that I seem to be in the
cave of the Cyclops; it is almost impossible for me to explain to you
my troubles; and every moment I feel myself tempted to take flight."
"These are," he says, in another letter, "ignorant men, who know
neither piety nor discipline; behold what they are who command, and you
will understand that I am like Daniel in the lions' den." How, then,
can it be maintained that such an enterprise was guided by a generous
idea, and that it was really attempted to free the human mind? The
intolerance of Calvin, sufficiently shown by the single fact mentioned
in the text, is manifested in his works at every page, by the manner in
which he treats his adversaries. _Wicked men_, _rogues_, _drunkards_,
_fools_, _madmen_, _furies_, _beasts_, _bulls_, _pigs_, _asses_,
_dogs_, and _vile slaves of Satan_. Such are the polite terms which
abound in the writings of the famous reformer. And how many wretched
things of the same kind could I not relate, if I did not fear to
disgust my readers!
NOTE 3, p. 27.
The Diet of Spires had made a decree concerning the change of religion
and worship; fourteen towns of the empire refused to submit to it,
and presented a Protest; hence men began to call the dissenters
_Protestants_. As this name is a condemnation of the separated
churches, they have several times attempted to assume others, but
always in vain; the names which they took were false, and false names
do not last. What was their meaning when they called themselves
_Evangelicals_? That they adhered to the Gospel alone? In that case
they ought rather to call themselves _Biblicals_; for it was not to the
Gospel that they professed to adhere, but to the Bible. They are also
sometimes called _Reformers_; and many people have been accustomed to
call _Protestantism, reformation_; but it is enough to pronounce this
word, to feel how inappropriate it is; _religious revolution_ would be
much more proper.
NOTE 4, p. 27.
Count de Maistre, in his work _Du Pape_, has developed this question
of names in an inimitable manner. Among his numerous observations,
there is one very just one: it is, that the Catholic Church alone has
a positive and proper name, which she gives to herself, and which is
given to her by the whole world. The separated Churches have invented
many, but without the power of appropriating them.--"Each one was free
to take what name he pleased," says M. de Maistre; "_Lais_, in person,
might be able to write upon her door, _Hôtel d'Artémise_. The great
point is, to compel others to give us a particular name, which is not
so easy as to take it of our own authority."
Moreover, it must not be imagined that Count de Maistre was the
inventor of this argument; a long time before him St. Jerome and St.
Augustin had used it. "If you," says St. Jerome, "hear them called
Marcionites, Valentinians, Montanists, know that they are not the
Church of Christ, but the synagogue of Antichrist.--Si audieris
nuncupari Marcionitas, Valentinianos, Montanenses, scito, non Ecclesiam
Christi, sed Antichristi esse synagogam." (Hieron. lib. _Adversus
Luciferianos_.) "I am retained in the Church," says St. Augustin, "by
her very name of Catholic; for it was not without a cause that she
alone, amid so many heresies, obtained that name. All the heretics
desire to be called Catholics; yet if a stranger asks them which is the
church of the Catholics, none of them venture to point out their church
or house.--Tenet me in Ecclesia ipsum Catholicæ nomen, quod non sine
causa inter tam multas hæreses, sic ipsa sola obtinuit, ut cum omnes
hæretici se Catholicos dici velint, quærenti tamen peregrino alicui,
ubi ad Catholicam conveniatur, nullus hæreticorum, vel basilicam suam
vel domum audeat ostendere." (St. Augustin.) What St. Augustin observed
of his time is again realized with respect to the Protestants. I
appeal to the testimony of those who have visited the countries where
different communions exist. An illustrious Spaniard of the seventeenth
century, who had lived a long time in Germany, tells us, "They all
wish to be called Catholic and Apostolical; but notwithstanding this
pretension, they are called Lutherans, or Calvinists.--Singuli volunt
Catholici et Apostolici, sed volunt, et ab aliis non hoc prætenso illis
nomine, sed Luterani potius aut Calviniani nominantur." (Caramuel.)
"I have dwelt in the towns of heretics," continues the same writer,
"and I have seen with my eyes and heard with my ears a thing on which
the heterodox should reflect: _it is, that with the exception of the
Protestant preacher, and a few others, who desire to know more of
the thing than is necessary, all the crowd of heretics gave the name
of Catholics to the Romans_.--Habitavi in hæreticorum civitatibus;
et hoc propriis oculis vidi, propriis audivi auribus, quod deberet
ab hæterodoxis ponderari, _præter prædicantem, et pauculos qui plus
sapiunt quam oportet sapere, totum hæreticorum vulgus Catholicos vocat
Romanos_." Such is the force of truth. The ideologists know well
that these phenomena have deep causes, and that these arguments are
something more than subtilties.
NOTE 5, p. 38.
So much has been said of abuses, the influence which they may have had
on the disasters which the Church suffered during the last centuries
has been so much exaggerated, and at the same time so much care has
been taken, by hypocritical praise, to exalt the purity of manners and
strictness of discipline in the primitive Church, that some people
have at last imagined a line of division between ancient and modern
times. These persons see in the early times only truth and sanctity;
they attribute to the others only corruption and falsehood; as if,
in the early ages of the Church, all the faithful were angels--as if
the Church, at all times, had not errors to correct and passions to
control. With history in our hands, it would be easy to reduce these
exaggerated ideas to their just value, to which Erasmus himself,
certainly little disposed to exculpate his contemporaries, does
justice. He clearly shows us, in a parallel between his own times and
those of the early ages of the Church, how puerile and ill-founded
was the desire, then so widely diffused, of exalting antiquity at the
expense of the present time. We find a fragment of this parallel in the
works of Marchetti, among his observations on Fleury's history.
It would not be less curious to pass in review the regulations made by
the Church to check all kinds of abuses. The collections of councils
would furnish us with so many materials thereupon, that many volumes
would not suffice to make them known; or rather, these collections
themselves, with alarming bulk, from one end to the other, are nothing
but an evident proof of these two truths: 1st, that there have been
at all times many abuses to be corrected, an effect, in some measure
necessary, of the weakness and corruption of human nature; 2dly, that
at all periods the Church has labored to correct these abuses, so that
it may be affirmed without hesitation, that you cannot point out one
without immediately finding a canonical regulation by its side to check
or punish it. These observations clearly show that Protestantism was
not caused by abuses, but that it was a great calamity, as it were,
rendered unavoidable by the fickleness of the human mind, and the
condition in which society was placed. In the same sense Jesus Christ
has said, _that it was necessary that there should be scandal_; not
that any one in particular is forced to give it, but because such is
the corruption of the human heart, that the natural course of things
must necessarily bring it.
NOTE 6, p. 42.
This concert and unity, which are found in Catholicity, are
things which ought to fill every sensible man with admiration and
astonishment, whatever his religious ideas may be. If we do not suppose
that _the finger of God is here_, how can we explain or understand the
continuance of the centre of unity in the see of Rome? So much has
been said of the supremacy of the Pope, that it is very difficult to
add any thing new; but perhaps our readers will not be displeased to
see a passage of St. Francis de Sales, where the various remarkable
titles given to the Sovereign Pontiff and to his see, by the Church in
ancient times, are collected. This work of the holy Bishop is worthy of
being introduced, not only because it interests the curiosity, but also
because it furnishes matter for grave reflection, which we leave to the
reader.
TITLES OF THE POPE.
Most Holy Bishop of the Catholic Church--Council of Soissons, of 300
Bishops.
Most Holy and Blessed Patriarch--Ibid., t. vii., Council.
Most Blessed Lord--St. Augustine, Ep. 95.
Universal Patriarch--St. Leo, P., Ep. 62.
Chief of the Church in the World--Innoc. ad P. P. Concil. Milevit.
The Bishop elevated to the Apostolic eminence--St. Cyprian, Ep. 3, 12.
Father of Fathers--Council of Chalcedon, Sess. iii.
Sovereign Pontiff of Bishops--Id., in præf.
Sovereign Priest--Council of Chalcedon, Sess. xvi.
Prince of Priests--Stephen, Bishop of Carthage.
Prefect of the House of God and Guardian of the Lord's
Vineyard--Council of Carthage, Ep. to Damasus.
Vicar of Jesus Christ, Confirmer of the Faith of Christians--St.
Jerome, præf. in Evang. ad Damasum.
High-Priest--Valentinian, and all antiquity with him.
The Sovereign Pontiff--Council of Chalcedon, in Epist. ad Theodos.
Imper.
The Prince of Bishops--Ibid.
The Heir of the Apostles--St. Bern., lib. de Consid.
Abraham by the Patriarchate--St. Ambrose, in 1 Tim. iii.
Melchisedech by ordination--Council of Chalcedon, Epist. ad Leonem.
Moses by authority--St. Bernard, Epist. 190.
Samuel by jurisdiction--Id. ib., et in lib. de Consider.
Peter by power--Ibid.
Christ by unction--Ibid.
The Shepherd of the Fold of Jesus Christ--Id. lib ii. de Consider.
Key-Bearer of the House of God--Id. ibid. c. viii.
The Shepherd of all Shepherds--Ibid.
The Pontiff called to the plentitude of power--Ibid.
St. Peter was the Mouth of Jesus Christ--St. Chrysost., Hom. ii., in
Div. Serm.
The Mouth and Head of the Apostleship--Orig., Hom. lv. in Matth.
The Cathedra and Principal Church--St. Cypr., Ep. lv. ad Cornel.
The Source of Sacerdotal Unity--Id., Epist. iii. 2.
The Bond of Unity--Id. ibid. iv. 2.
The Church where resides the chief power (_potentior
principalitas_)--Id. ibid. iii. 8.
The Church the Root and Mother of all the others--St. Anaclet. Papa,
Epist. ad omnes Episc. et Fideles.
The See on which our Lord has built the Universal Church--St. Damasus,
Epist. ad Univ. Episcop.
The Cardinal Point and Head of all the Churches--St. Marcellinus, R.
Epist. ad Episc. Antioch.
The Refuge of Bishops--Conc. Alex., Epist. ad Felic. P.
The Supreme Apostolic See--St. Athanasius.
The Presiding Church--Emperor Justin., in lib. viii., Cod. de Sum.
Trinit.
The Supreme See which cannot be judged by any other--St. Leo, in Nat.
SS. Apost.
The Church set over and preferred to all the others--Victor d'Utiq.,
in lib. de Perfect.
The first of all the Sees--St. Prosper, in lib. de Ingrat.
The Apostolic Fountain--St. Ignatius, Epist. ad Rom. in Subscript.
The most secure Citadel of all Catholic Communion--Council of Rome
under St. Gelasius.
NOTE 7, p. 45.
I have said that the most distinguished Protestants have felt the void
which is found in all sects separated from the Catholic Church. I am
about to give proofs of this assertion, which perhaps some persons may
consider hazardous. Luther, writing to Zwinglius, said, "If the world
lasts for a long time, it will be again necessary, on account of the
different interpretations which are now given to the Scriptures, to
receive the decrees of Councils, and take refuge in them, in order to
preserve the unity of the faith.--Si diutius steterit mundus, iterum
erit necessarium, propter diversas Scripturæ interpretationes quæ
nunc sunt, ad conservandam fidei unitatem, ut conciliorum decreta
recipiamus, atque ad ea confugiamus."
Melancthon, deploring the fatal results of the want of spiritual
jurisdiction, said, "There will result from it a liberty useless to the
world;" and in another place he utters these remarkable words: "There
are required in the Church inspectors, to maintain order, to observe
attentively those who are called to the ecclesiastical ministry, to
watch over the doctrine of priests, and pronounce ecclesiastical
judgments; so that if bishops did not exist, it would be necessary to
create them. The _monarchy of the Pope would be of great utility to
preserve among such various nations uniformity of doctrine_."
Let us hear Calvin: "God has placed the seat of his worship in the
centre of the earth, and has placed there only one Pontiff, whom
all may regard, the better to preserve unity.--Cultus sui sedem in
medio terræ collocavit, illi _unum_ Antisticem præfecit, quem omnes
respicerent, quo melius in unitate continerentur."--(Calvin, _Inst._ 6,
§ 11.)
"I have also," says Beza, "been long and greatly tormented by the same
thoughts which you describe to me. I see our people wander at the
mercy of every wind of doctrine, and after having been raised up, fall
sometimes on one side, and sometimes on the other. What they think of
religion to-day you may know; what they will think of it to-morrow you
cannot affirm. _On what point of religion are the Churches which have
declared war against the Pope agreed? Examine all, from beginning to
end, you will hardly find one thing affirmed by the one which the other
does not directly cry out against as impiety._--Exercuerunt me diu et
multum illæ ipsæ quas describis cogitationes. Video nostros palantes
omni doctrinæ vento, et in altum sublatos, modo ad hanc, modo ad illam
partem deferri. Horum, quæ sit hodie de religione sententia scire
fortasse possis; sed quæ cras de eadem futura sit opinio, neque tu
certo affirmare queas. In quo tandem religionis capite congruunt inter
se Ecclesiæ, quæ Romano Pontifici bellum indixerunt? A capite ad calcem
si percurras omnia, nihil propemodum reperias ab uno affirmari, quod
alter statim non impium esse clamitet." (Th. Bez. _Epist. ad Andream
Dudit_.)
Grotius, one of the most learned of Protestants, also felt the weakness
of the foundation on which the separated sects repose. Many people have
believed that he died a Catholic. The Protestants accused him of having
the intention of embracing the Roman faith; and the Catholics, who had
relations with him at Paris, thought the same thing. It is said that
the celebrated Petau, the friend of Grotius, at the news of his death,
said mass for him; an anecdote the truth of which I do not guarantee.
It is certain that Grotius, in his work entitled _De Antichristo_,
does not think, with other Protestants, that the Pope is Antichrist.
It is certain that, in his work entitled _Votum pro Pace Ecclesiæ_,
he says, without circumlocution, "that without the supremacy of the
Pope, it is impossible to put an end to disputes;" and he alleges
the example of the Protestants: "as it happens," says he, "among the
Protestants." It is certain that, in his posthumous work, _Rivetiani
Apologetici Discussio_, he openly lays down the fundamental principle
of Catholicity, namely, that "the dogmas of faith should be decided
by tradition and the authority of the Church, and not by the holy
Scriptures only."
The conversion of the celebrated Protestant Papin, which made so much
noise, is another proof of what we are endeavoring to show. Papin
reflected on the fundamental principle of Protestantism, and on the
contradiction which exists between this principle and the intolerance
of Protestants, who, relying only on private judgment, yet have
recourse to authority for self-preservation. He reasoned as follows:
"If the principle of authority, which they attempt to adopt, is
innocent and legitimate, it condemns their origin, wherein they refused
to submit to the authority of the Catholic Church; but if the principle
of private judgment, which they embraced in the beginning, was right
and just, this is enough to condemn the principle of authority invented
by them for the purpose of avoiding its excesses; for this principle
opens and smooths the way to the greatest disorders of impiety."
Puffendorf, who will certainly not be accused of coldness when
attacking Catholicity, could not help paying his tribute also to the
truth, when, in a confession for which all Catholics ought to thank
him, he says, "The suppression of the authority of the Pope has sowed
endless germs of discord in the world: as there is no longer any
sovereign authority to terminate the disputes which arise on all sides,
we have seen the Protestants split among themselves, and tear their
bowels with their own hands." (Puffendorf, _de Monarch. Pont. Roman_.)
Leibnitz, that great man, who, according to the expression of
Fontenelle, advanced all sciences, also acknowledged the weakness
of Protestantism, and the organizing power which belongs to the
Catholic Church. We know that, far from participating in the anger of
Protestants against the Pope, he regarded the religious supremacy of
Rome with the most lively sympathy. He openly avows the superiority of
the Catholic over the Protestant missions; the religious communities
themselves, the objects of so much aversion to so many people, were
to him highly respectable. These anticipations with respect to the
religious ideas of this great man have been more and more confirmed
by one of his posthumous works, published for the first time at Paris
in 1819. _The Exposition of the Doctrine of Leibnitz on Religion,
followed by Thoughts extracted from the writings of the same Author,
by M. Emery, formerly General Superior of St. Sulpice_, contains
the posthumous work of Leibnitz, whereof the title, in the original
manuscript, is, _Theological System_. The commencement of this work,
remarkable for its seriousness and simplicity, is certainly worthy
of the great soul of this distinguished thinker. It is this: "After
having long and profoundly studied religious controversies, after
having implored the divine assistance, and laid aside, as far as it is
possible for man, all spirit of party, I have considered myself as a
neophyte come from the new world, and one who had not yet embraced an
opinion; behold, therefore, the conclusions at which I have arrived,
and what appeared to me, out of all that I have examined, worthy to be
received by all unprejudiced men, as what is most conformable to the
holy Scriptures and respectable antiquity; I will even say, to right
reason and the most certain historical facts."
Leibnitz afterwards lays down the existence of God, the Incarnation,
the Trinity, and the other dogmas of Christianity; he adopts with
candor, and defends with much learning, the doctrine of the Catholic
Church on tradition, the sacraments, the sacrifice of the Mass, the
respect paid to relics and holy images, the Church hierarchy, and the
supremacy of the Pope. He adds, "In all cases which do not admit the
delay of the convocation of a general Council, or which do not deserve
to be considered therein, it must be admitted that the first of the
Bishops, or the Sovereign Pontiff, has the same power as the whole
Church."
NOTE 8, p. 49.
Some persons may suppose that what we have said with respect to the
emptiness of human knowledge and the weakness of our intellect, has
been said only for the purpose of making the necessity of a rule in
matters of faith more sensibly felt. It is not so. It would be easy for
me to insert here a long list of texts, drawn from the writings of the
most illustrious men of ancient and modern times, who have insisted
upon this very point. I will only quote here an excellent passage from
an illustrious Spaniard, one of the greatest men of the sixteenth
century, Louis Vives. "_Jam mens ipsa, suprema animi et celsissima
pars, videbit quantopere sit tum natura sua tarda ac præpedita, tum
tenebris peccati cæca, et a doctrina, usu, ac solertia imperita et
rudis, ut ne ea quidem quæ videt, quæque manibus contrectat, cujusmodi
sint, aut quid fiant assequatur, nedum ut in abdito illa naturæ,
arcana possit penetrare; sapienterque ab Aristotele illa est posita
sententia: Mentem nostram ad manifestissima naturæ non aliter habere
se, quam noctuæ oculum ad lumen solis._ Ea omnia, quæ universum
hominum genus novit, quota sunt pars eorum quæ ignoramus? Nec solum
id in universitate artium est verum, sed in singulis earum, in quarum
nulla tantum est humanum ingenium progressum, ut ad medium pervenerit,
etiam in infimis illis ac villissimis; ut nihil existimetur verius
esse dictum ab Academicis quam Scire nihil." (Ludovic. Vives, _de
Concordia et Discordia_, lib. iv. c. iii.) So thought this great man,
who, to vast erudition in sacred and profane things, added profound
meditation on the human intellect itself; who followed the progress of
the sciences with an observant eye, and undertook to regenerate them,
as his writings prove. I regret that I cannot copy his words at length,
as well those in the passage which I have just cited, as those of his
immortal work on the causes of the decline of the arts and sciences,
and on the manner of teaching them. If any one complain that I have
told some truths as to the weakness of our minds, and fear lest this
should impede the progress of knowledge by checking its flights, I will
remind him that the best way of promoting the progress of our minds is,
to give them a knowledge of themselves. On this point, the profound
sentence of Seneca may be quoted: "I know that many persons would
have attained to wisdom, if they had not presumed that they already
possessed it." "Puto multos ad sapientiam protuisse pervenire, nisi se
jam crederent pervenisse."
NOTE 9, p. 53.
Dense clouds surround the intellect as soon as it approaches the first
principles of the sciences. I have said that even the mathematics,
the clearness and certainty of which have become proverbial, are not
exempted from this universal rule. The infinitesimal calculation,
which, in the present state of science, may be said to play the
leading part, nevertheless depends on a few ideas which, up to this
time, have not been well explained by any one--ideas with respect to
_limits_. I do not wish to throw any doubt on the certainty of this
calculation: I only wish to show, that, if it were attempted to examine
the ideas which are as it were the elements of it, before the tribunal
of metaphysical philosophy, the consequence would be, that shades
would be cast upon their certainty. Without going further than the
elementary part of science, we might discover some points which would
not bear a continued metaphysical and ideological analysis without
injury: a thing which it would be very easy to prove by example, if
the nature of this work allowed it. We may recommend to the reader on
this subject, the valuable letter addressed by the Spanish Jesuit,
Eximeno, a distinguished philosopher and mathematician, to his friend,
Juan Andres; he will there find some appropriate observations made by a
man who certainly will not be rejected on the ground of incompetency.
It is in Latin, and is called _Epistola ad clarissimum virum Joannem
Andresium_.
As to the other sciences, it is not necessary to say much to prove that
their first principles are surrounded with darkness; and it may be
said that the brilliant reveries of the most illustrious men have had
no other source than this very obscurity. Led away by the feeling of
their own strength, these men pursued truth even to the abyss; there,
to use the expression of an illustrious contemporary poet, _the torch
was extinguished in their hands_; lost in an obscure labyrinth, they
were then abandoned to the mercy of their fancies and inspirations;
it was thus that reality gave place to the beautiful dreams of their
genius.
NOTE 10, p. 54.
Nothing is better for understanding and explaining the innate weakness
of the human mind, than to survey the history of heresies; a history
which we owe to the Church, to the extreme care which she has taken to
define and classify errors. From Simon Magus, who called himself the
legislator of the Jews, the renovator of the world, and the paraclete,
while paying a worship of latria to his mistress Helena, under the
name of Minerva, down to Hermann, preaching the massacre of all the
priests and all the magistrates of the world, and affirming that he
was the real son of God; a vast picture, very unpleasant to behold, I
acknowledge, if it were only on account of the extravagances with which
it abounds, presents itself to the observer, and suggests to him very
grave and profound reflections on the real character of the human mind;
there it is easy to see the wisdom of Catholicity, in attempting, in
certain cases, to subject this inconstant spirit to rule.
NOTE 11, p. 57.
If any persons find difficulty in persuading themselves that illusion
and fanaticism are, as it were, in their proper element among
Protestants, behold the irresistible testimony of facts in aid of
our assertion. This subject would furnish large volumes; but I must
be content with a rapid glance. I begin with Luther. Is it possible
to carry raving further than to pretend to have been taught by the
devil, to boast of it, and to found new doctrines on so powerful an
authority? Yet this was the raving of Luther himself, the founder
of Protestantism, who has left us in his works the evidence of his
interview with Satan.--Whether the apparition was real, or produced
by the dreams of a night agitated by fever, it is impossible to carry
fanaticism further than to boast of having had such a master. Luther
tells us himself that he had many colloquies with the devil; but
what is above all worthy of attention is, the vision in which, as he
relates in the most serious manner, Satan, by his arguments, compelled
him to proscribe private masses. He gives us a lively description of
this adventure. He wakes in the middle of the night; Satan appears to
him.--Luther is seized with horror; he sweats, he trembles; his heart
beats in a fearful manner. Nevertheless the discussion begins, and the
devil, like a good disputant, presses him so hard with his arguments,
that he leaves him without reply. Luther is conquered; which ought
not to astonish us, since he tells us that the logic of the devil was
accompanied by a voice so alarming, that the blood froze in his veins.
"I then understood," says this wretched being, "how it often happens
that people die _at the break of day_; it is because the devil is able
to kill or suffocate men; and without going so far as that, when he
disputes with them, he places them in such embarrassment, that he can
thus occasion their death. I have often experienced this myself." This
passage is certainly curious.
The phantom which appeared to Zwinglius, the founder of Protestantism
in Switzerland, affords us another example of extravagance no less
absurd. This heresiarch wished to deny the real presence of Jesus
Christ in the Eucharist; he pretended that what exists under the
consecrated species is only a sign. As the authority of the sacred
text, which clearly expresses the contrary, embarrassed him, behold,
suddenly, at the moment when he imagined that he was disputing with
the secretary of the town, a white or black phantom, so he tells
us himself, appeared to him, and showed him a means. This pleasant
anecdote we have from Zwinglius himself.
Who does not regret to see such a man as Melancthon also given up
to the prejudices and manias of the most ridiculous superstition,
stupidly credulous with respect to dreams, extraordinary phenomena,
and astrological prognostics? Read his letters, which are filled with
such pitiful things. At the time when the diet of Augsburg was held,
Melancthon regarded as favourable presages for the new gospel an
inundation of the Tiber, the birth at Rome of a monstrous mule with a
crane's foot, and that of a calf with two heads in the territory of
Augsburg,--events which to him were the undoubted announcements of a
change in the universe, and particularly of the approaching ruin of
Rome by the power of schism. He himself makes the horoscope of his
daughter, and he trembles for her because Mars presents an alarming
aspect; he is not the less alarmed at the tail of a comet appearing
within the limits of the north. The astrologers had predicted that in
autumn the stars would be more favorable to ecclesiastical disputes;
this prognostic sufficed to console him for the slowness of the
conferences of Augsburg on the subject of religion: we see, moreover,
that his friends--that is, the leaders of the party--allowed themselves
to be ruled by the same powerful reasons. As if he had not troubles
enough, it is predicted that Melancthon will be shipwrecked in the
Baltic; he avoids sailing on those fatal waters. Certain Franciscans
had prophesied that the power of the Pope was about to decline, and
then to fall for ever; also that, in the year 1600, the Turks were to
become masters of Italy and Germany; Melancthon boasts of having the
original prophecy in his possession; moreover, the earthquakes which
occur confirm him in his belief.
The human mind had but just set itself up as the only judge of faith,
when the atrocities of the most furious fanaticism already inundated
Germany with blood. Mathias Harlem, the Anabaptist, at the head of a
ferocious troop, orders the churches to be sacked, the sacred ornaments
to be broken in pieces, and all books, except the Bible, to be burnt,
as impious or useless. Established at Munster, which he calls Mont
Sion, he causes all the gold, silver, and precious stones possessed
by the inhabitants to be brought to him, and places them in a common
treasury, and names deacons to distribute them. All his disciples are
compelled to eat in common, to live in perfect equality, and to prepare
for the war which they would have to undertake, _quitting Mount Sion_,
as he himself said, _to subject all the nations of the earth to his
power_. He at length dies in a rash attempt, wherein, like another
Gideon, he undertook nothing less than to exterminate the army of the
impious with a handful of men. Mathias immediately found an heir to his
fanaticism in Becold, perhaps better known under the name of John of
Leyden. This fanatic, a tailor by trade, ran naked through the streets
of Munster, crying out, "_Behold, the king of Sion comes_." He returned
to his house, shut himself up there for three days; and when the
people came to inquire for him, he pretended that he could not speak;
like another Zachary, he made signs that he wanted writing materials,
and wrote that it had been revealed to him by God, that the people
should be governed by judges, in imitation of the people of Israel.
He named twelve judges, choosing the men who were the most attached
to himself; and until the authority of the new magistrates had been
acknowledged, he took the precaution not to allow himself to be seen
by any body. Already was the authority of the new prophet secured in a
certain manner; but not content with the real command, he desired to
surround himself with pomp and majesty; he proposed nothing less than
to have himself proclaimed king. Now the blindness of the sectarian
fanatics was so great, that it was not difficult for him to complete
his mad enterprise; it was enough for him to play off a gross farce. A
goldsmith who had an understanding with the aspirant to royalty, and
was also initiated in the art of prophecy, presented himself before the
judges of Israel, and spoke to them thus: "Behold, this is the will of
the Lord God, the Eternal: as in other times I established Saul over
Israel, and after him David, who was only a simple shepherd, so I now
establish my prophet Becold king of Sion." The judges would not resolve
on abdication; but Becold assured them that he also had had the same
vision, that he had concealed it from humility, but that God having
spoken by another prophet, it was necessary for him to resign himself
to mount the throne, and _accomplish the orders of the Most High_.
The judges persisted in wishing to call the people together; they
assembled in the market-place; there a _prophet_, on the part of God,
presented to Becold a drawn sword, as a sign of the _power of justice,
which was conferred on him over all the earth, to extend to the four
quarters of the world the empire of Sion_; he was proclaimed king with
the most boisterous joy, and solemnly crowned on the 24th of June,
1534. As he had espoused the wife of his predecessor, he raised her to
the royal dignity; but while reserving to her the exclusive privilege
of being queen, he continued to have seventeen wives, in conformity
with the _holy_ liberty which he had proclaimed in this matter. The
orgies, assassinations, atrocities, and ravings of all kinds which
followed cannot be related; it may be affirmed that the sixteen
months of the reign of this madman were only a series of crimes. The
Catholics cried out against such horrible excesses. The Protestants
cried out also; but who was to blame? Was it not they who, after
having proclaimed resistance to the authority of the Church, had thrown
the Bible into the midst of these wretched men, at the risk of their
heads being turned by the ravings of individual interpretation, and of
precipitating them into projects as criminal as they were senseless?
The Anabaptists were well aware of this; and they were exceedingly
indignant with Luther, who condemned them in his writings; and indeed,
what right had he, who had established the principle, to desire to
check its consequences? If Luther found in the Bible that the Pope
was Antichrist, if he arrogated to himself, of his own authority, the
mission of destroying the reign of the Pope, by exhorting all the world
to conspire against him, why could not the Anabaptists say, in their
turn, _that they had intercourse with God, and had received the order
to exterminate all the wicked, and to establish a new kingdom, in which
were to be seen only wise, pious, and innocent men, having become the
masters of all things_.
Hermann preaching the massacre of all the priests and all the
magistrates of the world; David George proclaiming that his doctrine
alone was perfect, that that of the _Old and New Testaments was
imperfect, and that he was the true Son of God_; Nicholas rejecting
faith and worship as useless, treading under foot the fundamental
precepts of morality, and teaching _that it was good to continue in
sin, that grace might abound_; Hacket pretending that the spirit of
the Messiah had descended upon him, and sending two of his disciples
to cry out in the streets of London, "_Behold Christ coming here with
a vase in his hand!_" Hacket himself crying out, at the sight of the
gibbet, and in the agony of punishment, "Jehovah! Jehovah! do you not
see that the heavens open, and that Jesus Christ comes to deliver me?"
are not all these deplorable spectacles, and a hundred others that I
might mention, proofs sufficiently evident that the Protestant system
nourishes and inflames a fearful fanaticism? Venner, Fox, William
Simpson, J. Naylor, Count Zinzendorf, Wesley, Baron Swedenborg, and
other similar names, are sufficient to remind us of an assemblage
of sects so extravagant, and a series of crimes such as would fill
volumes, which would afford us the most ridiculous and the most odious
pictures, the greatest miseries and the most deplorable errors of the
human mind. I have not invented or exaggerated. Open history, consult
authors--I do not mean Catholics, but Protestants, or whatever they may
be--and you will every where find a multitude of witnesses who depose
to the truth of these facts; notorious facts, which have taken place in
the light of day, in great capitals, and in times bordering on our own;
and let it not be supposed that this abundant source of illusion and
fanaticism has been exhausted in the course of ages; it does not seem
that it is yet near being dried up, and Europe appears condemned to
hear the recital of visions, such as those of Baron Swedenborg in the
inn in London; and we shall still see passports for heaven with three
seals given out, like those of Johanna Southcote.
NOTE 12, p. 60.
Nothing is more palpable than the difference which exists on this point
between Protestants and Catholics. On both sides there are persons who
consider themselves to be favored with heavenly visions; but these
visions render Protestants proud, turbulent, and raving mad, while
among Catholics they increase the spirit of humility, peace, and love.
Even in that very sixteenth century, in which the fanaticism of the
Protestants agitated and stained Europe with blood, there lived in
Spain a woman who, in the judgment of unbelievers and Protestants, is
certainly one of those who have been the most deeply infected with
illusion and fanaticism; but has the supposed fanaticism of this woman
ever caused the spilling of a drop of blood, or the shedding of a tear?
Were her visions, like those of Protestants, orders from heaven for the
extermination of men? After the desolate and horrible picture which I
have given in the preceding note, perhaps the reader will be glad to
let his eyes rest upon a spectacle as peaceful as it is beautiful. It
is St. Theresa writing her own life out of pure obedience, and relating
to us her visions with angelic candor and ineffable sweetness. "The
Lord (she says) willed that I should once have this vision: I saw
near to me, on the left hand, an angel in a corporeal form; this is
what I do not usually see, except by a prodigy; although angels often
present themselves to me without my seeing them, as I have said in the
preceding vision. In this the Lord willed that I should see him in the
following manner: he was not tall, but small and very beautiful, his
face all in a flame, and he seemed to be one of the angels very high
in the hierarchy, who apparently are all on fire. Without doubt, he
was one of those who are called seraphim.--These angels do not tell
me their names; but I clearly see that there is so great a difference
among the angels, between some and others, that I do not know how to
express it. I saw in his hands a long dart of gold, which appeared to
me to have some fire at the end of the point. It seemed to me that
the angel buried this dart from time to time in my heart, and made it
penetrate to my bowels, and that when withdrawing it, he carried them
away, leaving me all inflamed with a great love of God." (_Vie de St.
Thérèse_, c. xxix. no. 11.) Another example: "At this moment I see on
my head a dove very different from those of earth; for this one had
no feathers, but wings as it were of the shell of mother of pearl,
which shone brightly. It was larger than a dove; it seemed to me that
I heard the noise of its wings. It moved them almost for the time of
an Ave Maria. The soul was already in such a condition that, herself
swooning away, she also lost sight of this divine dove. The mind grew
tranquil with the presence of such a guest, although it seemed to me
that so wonderful a favor ought to fill it with perturbation and alarm;
but as the soul began to enjoy it, fear departed, repose came with
enjoyment, and the mind remained in ecstacy." (_Vie_, c. xxviii. no.
7.) It would be difficult to find any thing more beautiful, expressed
in more lively colors, and with a more amiable simplicity. It will not
be out of place to copy here two other passages of a different kind,
which, while they enforce what we wish to show, may contribute to
awaken the taste of our nation for a certain class of Spanish writers,
who are every day falling into oblivion with us, while foreigners
seek for them with eagerness, and publish handsome editions of them.
"I was once at office with all the rest; my soul was suddenly fixed
in attention, and it seemed to me to be entirely as a clear mirror
without reverse or side, neither high nor low, but shining every where.
In the midst of it, Christ our Saviour presented himself to me, as
I am accustomed to see Him. He appeared to me to be at once in all
parts of my soul. I saw Him as in a clear mirror, and this mirror also
(I cannot say how) was entirely imprinted on our Lord himself, by a
communication which I cannot describe--a communication full of love. I
know that this vision has been of great advantage to me every time that
I recollect it, principally when I have just received communion. I was
given to understand that when a soul is in a state of mortal sin, this
mirror is covered with great darkness, and is extremely obscure, so
that our Lord cannot appear or be seen therein, although He is always
present as giving being; as to heretics, it is as if the mirror were
broken, which is much worse than if it were obscured. There is a great
difference between seeing this and telling it; it is difficult to make
such a thing understood. I repeat, that this has been very profitable
to me, and also very afflicting, on account of the view of the various
offences by which I have obscured my soul, and have been deprived of
seeing my Lord." (_Vie_, c. xi. no. 4.)
In another place she explains a manner of seeing things in God; she
represents the idea by an image so brilliant and sublime, that we
appear to be reading Malebranche, when developing his famous system.
"We say that the Divinity is like a bright diamond, infinitely larger
than the world; or rather like a mirror, as I have said of the soul in
another vision; except that here it is in a manner so sublime, that I
know not how to exalt it sufficiently. All that we do is seen in this
diamond, which contains all in itself; for there is nothing which is
not comprised in so great a magnitude. It was alarming to me to see in
so short a time so many things assembled in this bright diamond; and I
am profoundly afflicted every time that I think that things so shocking
as my sins appeared to me in this most pure brightness." (_Vie_, c. xl.
no. 7.)
Let us now suppose, with Protestants, that all these visions were
only pure illusions: at least it is evident that they do not pervert
ideas, corrupt morals, or disturb public order; and assuredly, had they
served only to inspire these beautiful pages, we should not know how
to regret the illusion. This is a confirmation of what I have said of
the salutary effects which the Catholic principle produces in souls,
by preventing them from being blinded by pride, or throwing themselves
into dangerous courses. This principle confines them to a sphere where
it is impossible for them to injure any one; but it does not deprive
them of any of their force or energy to do good, supposing that the
inspiration is real. Although it would have been easy for me to cite a
thousand examples, I was compelled, for the sake of brevity, to confine
myself to one, when selecting St. Theresa as one of those who are the
most distinguished in this respect, and because she was contemporary
with the great aberrations of Protestantism. In fine, as she was a
daughter of Spain, I seized the opportunity of recalling her to the
memories of Spaniards, who begin too much to forget her.
NOTE 13, p. 64.
Some of the leaders of the Reformation have left suspicions that they
taught with insincerity, that they did not themselves believe what
they preached, and that they had no other object than to deceive their
proselytes. As I am unwilling to have it imputed to me that I have made
this accusation rashly, I will adduce some proofs in support of my
assertion. Let us hear Luther himself. "Often," he says, "do I think
within myself that I scarcely know where I am, and whether I teach the
truth or not (Sæpe sic mecum cogito, propemodum nescio, quo loco sim,
et utrum veritatem doceam, necne)." (Luther, _Col. Isleb. de Christo_.)
And it is the same man who said: "It is certain that I have received
my dogmas from heaven. I will not allow you to judge of my doctrine,
neither you nor even the angels of heaven (Certum est dogmata mea
habere me de cœlo. Non sinam vel vos vel ipsos angelos de cœlo de mea
doctrina judicare)." (Luther, _contra Reg. Ang._) John Matthei, the
author of many writings on the life of Luther, and who is not scanty
in eulogies on the heresiarch, has preserved a very curious anecdote
touching the convictions of Luther. It is this: "A preacher called John
Musa related to me that he one day complained to Luther that he could
not prevail on himself to believe what he taught to others: '_Blessed
be God_ (said Luther) _that the same thing happens to others as to
myself: I believed till now that THAT was a thing which happened only
to me_.'" (Johann. Matthesius, _conc._ 12.)
The doctrines of infidelity were not long delayed; but would it be
believed that they are found expressed in various parts of Luther's own
works? "It is likely," says he, speaking of the dead, "that, except a
few, they all sleep deprived of feeling." "I think that the dead are
buried in so ineffable and wonderful a sleep, that they feel or see
less than those who sleep an ordinary sleep." "The souls of the dead
enter neither into purgatory nor into hell." "The human soul sleeps;
all its senses buried." "There is no suffering in the abode of the
dead." ("Verisimile est, exceptis paucis, omnes dormire insensibiles."
"Ego puto mortuos sic ineffabili et miro somno sopitos, ut minus
sentiant aut videant, quam hi qui alias dormiunt." "Animæ mortuorum
non ingrediuntur in purgatorium nec infernum." "Anima humana dormit,
omnibus sensibus sepultis." "Mortuorum locus cruciatus nullos habet.")
(Tom. ii. _Epist. Lat. Isleb._ fol. 44; t. vi. _Lat. Wittenberg_,
in cap. ii., cap. xxiii., c. xxv., c. xlii. et xlix. _Genes._ et t.
iv. _Lat. Wittenberg_, fol. 109.) Persons were not wanting ready to
receive such doctrines; and this teaching caused such ravages, that
the Lutheran Brentzen, disciple and successor of Luther, hesitates
not to say: "_Although no one among us publicly professes that the
soul perishes with the body, and that there is no resurrection of the
dead, nevertheless the impure and wholly profane lives which they for
the most part lead, show very clearly that they do not believe that
there is another life. Some even allow words of this kind to escape
them, not only in the intoxication of libations, but even when fasting,
in their familiar intercourse._ (Et si inter nos nulla sit publica
professio quod anima simul cum corpore intereat, et quod non sit
mortuorum resurrectio, tamen impurissima et profanissima illa vita,
quam maxima pars hominum sectatur, perspicue indicat quod non sentiat
vitam post hanc. Nonnullis etiam tales voces, tam ebriis inter pocula,
quam sobriis in familiaribus colloquiis.)" (Brentius, _Hom._ 35, in
cap. 20, Luc.) There were in this same sixteenth century some men who
cared not to give their names to this or that sect, but who professed
infidelity and scepticism without disguise. We know that the famous
Gruet paid with his head for his boldness in this way; and it was not
the Catholics who cut it off, but the Calvinists, who were offended
that this unhappy man had taken the liberty to paint the character
and conduct of Calvin in their true colors. Gruet had also committed
the crime of posting up placards at Geneva, in which he charged the
pretended reformers with inconsistency, on account of the tyranny which
they attempted to exercise over consciences, after having shaken off
the yoke of authority on their own account. This took place soon after
the birth of Protestantism, as the sentence on Gruet was executed in
1549.
Montaigne, who has been pointed out as one of the first sceptics who
acquired reputation in Europe, carries the thing so far, that he does
not even admit the natural law. "_They are not serious_ (he says)
_when, to give some certainty to laws, they say that there are any
laws fixed, perpetual, and immutable, which they call natural, which
are impressed on the human race by the condition of their peculiar
essence_." (Montaigne, _Ess._ l. ii. c. 12.)
We have already seen what Luther thought of death, or at least the
expression which escaped him on this subject; and we cannot be
astonished after that, that Montaigne wished to die like a real
unbeliever, and that he says, speaking of the terrible passage: "_I
plunge my head, insensibly sunk in death, without considering or
observing it, as in a silent and obscure depth, which swallows me up
at once, stifles me in a moment with powerful sleep full of insipidity
and indolence._" (Montaigne, l. iii. c. 9.) But this man, who wished
that death should find him planting his cabbages, and without thinking
of it (_Je veux que la mort me trouve plantant mes choux, mais sans me
soucier d'elle_), was not of the same opinion in his last moments. When
he was near breathing his last, he wished that the holy sacrifice of
the Mass should be celebrated in his apartment, and he expired while
making an effort to raise himself on his bed, in the act of adoring
the sacred Host. We see that he had profited in his heart by some of
his ideas with respect to the Christian religion. "It is pride," he
had said, "that leads man out of the common path, and urges him to
embrace novelties, loving rather to be the chief of a wandering and
undisciplined band, than to be a disciple of the school of truth." In
another place, at once condemning all the dissenting sects, he had
said, "In religious matters it is necessary to adhere to those who are
the established judges of doctrine, and who have legitimate authority,
not to the most learned and the cleverest."
From all that I have just said, it is clear that if I accuse
Protestantism of having been one of the principal causes of infidelity
in Europe, I do not accuse it without reason. I repeat here, that it is
by no means my intention to overlook the efforts of some Protestants
to oppose infidelity; I do not assail _persons_, but _things_, and I
honor merit wherever I find it. In fine, I will add, that if at the
end of the seventeenth century a considerable number of Protestants
displayed a tendency towards Catholicity, we must seek the reason
for it in the progress which they saw infidelity making,--a progress
which it was impossible to check, at least without holding fast to the
anchor of authority which the Catholic Church offered to the whole
world. I cannot, without exceeding the limits which I have marked out
for myself, give a circumstantial detail of the correspondence between
Molanus and the Bishop of Tyna, of Leibnitz and Bossuet. Readers who
desire to become thoroughly acquainted with that affair, may examine it
partly in the works of Bossuet himself, and partly in the interesting
work of M. de Beausset, prefixed to some editions of Bossuet.
NOTE 14, p. 86.
In order to form an idea of the state of knowledge at the time of the
appearance of Christianity, and become convinced that there was nothing
to be expected from the human mind abandoned to its own strength, it
is enough to recall to mind the monstrous sects which every where
abounded in the first ages of the Church, the doctrines whereof
formed the most shapeless, extravagant, and immoral compound that it
is possible to conceive. The names of Cerinthus, Menander, Ebion,
Saturninus, Basilides, Nicolas, Carpocrates, Valentinus, Marcion,
Montanus, and so many others, remind us of the sects in which delirium
was connected with immorality. When we throw a glance over these
philosophico-religious sects, we see that they were capable neither
of conceiving a philosophical system with any degree of concert, nor
of imagining a collection of doctrines and practices to which the
name of religion can be applied. These men overturned, mixed, and
confounded all; Judaism, Christianity, and the recollections of the
ancient schools, were all amalgamated in their deluded heads; what they
never forgot was, to give a loose rein to all kinds of corruption and
obscenity.
In the spectacle of these ages, a wide field is opened to the
conjectures of true philosophy. What would have become of human
knowledge, if Christianity had not come to enlighten the world with her
celestial doctrines; if that divine religion, confounding the foolish
pride of man, had not come to show him how vain and senseless were his
thoughts, and how far he was removed from the path of truth? It is
remarkable that these same men, whose aberrations make us shudder, gave
themselves the name of Gnostics, on account of the superior knowledge
with which they supposed themselves to be endowed. We see that man is
at all times the same.
NOTE 15, p. 115.
I have thought that it would not be useless to transcribe here, word
for word, the canons which I have mentioned in the text. My readers may
thereby acquire for themselves a complete knowledge of what is found
there; and there will be no room left to suppose that the real sense of
the regulations has been perverted in the extracts which I have given.
CANONS AND OTHER DOCUMENTS,
_Which show the solicitude of the Church to improve the lot of slaves,
and the various means she has used to accomplish the abolition of
slavery:_
§ I.
_A penance is imposed on the mistress who maltreats her slave_
(_ancillam_).
(Concilium Eliberitanum, anno 305.)
"Si qua domina furore zeli accensa flagris verberaverit ancillam
suam, ita ut in tertium diem animam cum cruciatu effundat; eo quod
incertum sit, voluntate an casu occiderit; si voluntate, post septem
annos, si casu, post quinquennii tempora, acta legitima pœnitentia, ad
communionem placuit admitti. Quod si infra tempora constituta fuerit
infirmata, accipiat communionem." (Canon 5.)
It must be observed, that the word 'ancillam' means a slave properly
so called, and not any kind of servant. This appears, indeed, from the
words _flagris verberaverit_, which express a chastisement reserved for
slaves.
_They excommunicate the master who, of his own authority, beats his
slave to death._
(Concilium Epaoense, anno 517.)
"Si quis servum proprium sine conscientia judicis occiderit,
excommunicatione biennii effusionem sanguinis expiabit." (Canon 34.)
This same regulation is repeated in the 15th canon of the 17th Council
of Toledo, held in 694; even the words of the Council of Epaon are
there copied with very slight change.
(Ibid.) _The slave guilty of an atrocious crime was to escape
corporeal punishments by taking refuge in a church._
"Servus reatu atrociore culpabilis si ad ecclesiam confugerit, a
corporabilibus tantum suppliciis excusetur. De capillis vero, vel
quocumque opere, placuit, a dominis juramenta non exigi." (Canon 39.)
_Very remarkable precautions to prevent masters from maltreating the
slaves who had taken refuge in churches._
(Concilium Aurelianense quintum, anno 549.)
"De servis vero, qui pro qualibet culpa ad ecclesiæ septa confugerint,
id statuimus observandum, ut, sicut in antiquis constitutionibus
tenetur scriptum, pro concessa culpa datis a domino sacramentis,
quisquis ille fuerit, expediatur de venia jam securus. Enim vero si
immemor fidei dominus trascendisse convincitur quod juravit, ut is qui
veniam acceperat, probetur postmodum pro ea culpa qualicumque supplicio
cruciatus, dominus ille qui immemor fuit datæ fidei, sit ab omnium
communione suspensus. Iterum si servus de promissione veniæ datis
sacramentis a domino jam securus exire noluerit, ne sub tali contumacia
requirens locum fugæ, domino fortasse dispereat, egredi nolentem
a domino eum liceat occupari, ut nullam, quasi pro retentatione
servi, quibuslibet modis molestiam aut calumniam patiatur ecclesia:
fidem tamen dominus, quam pro concessa venia dedit, nulla temeritate
transcendat. Quod si aut gentilis dominus fuerit, aut alterius sectæ,
qui a conventu ecclesiæ probatur extraneus, is qui servum repetit,
personas requirat bonæ fidei Christianas, ut ipsi in persona domini
servo præbeant sacramenta: quia ipsi possunt servare quod sacrum est,
qui pro transgressione ecclesiasticum metuunt disciplinam." (Canon 22.)
It is difficult to carry solicitude for the lot of slaves further. This
document is very curious.
_They forbid bishops to mutilate their slaves: they order that the
duty of chastising them should be left to the judge of the town, who,
nevertheless, could not cut off their hair, a punishment which was
considered too ignominious._
(Concilium Emeritense, anno 666.)
"Si regalis pietas pro salute omnium suarum legum dignata est ponere
decreta, cur religio sancta per sancti concilii ordinem non habeat
instituta, quæ omnino debent esse cavenda? Ideoque placuit huic sancto
concilio, ut omnis potestas episcopalis modum suæ ponat iræ; nec
pro quolibet excessu cuilibet ex familia, ecclesiæ aliquod corporis
membrorum sua ordinatione præsumat extirpare aut auferre. Quod si talis
emerserit culpa, advocato judice civitatis, ad examen ejus deducatur
quod factum fuisse asseritur. Et quia omnino justum est, ut pontifex
sævissimam non impendat vindictam; quidquid coram judice verius
patuerit, per disciplinæ severitatem absque turpi decalvatione maneat
emendatum." (Canon 15.)
_Priests are forbidden to have their slaves mutilated._
(Concilium Toletanum undecimum, anno 675.)
"His a quibus domini sacramenta tractanda sunt, judicium sanguinis
agitare non licet: et ideo magnopere talium excessibus prohibendum
est, ne indiscretæ præsumptionis motibus agitati, aut quod morte
plectendum est, sententia propria judicare præsumant, aut truncationes
quaslibet membrorum quibuslibet personis aut per se inferant, aut
inferendas præcipiant. Quod si quisquam horum immemor præceptorum, aut
ecclesiæ suæ familiis, aut in quibuslibet personis tale quid fecerit,
et concessi ordinis honore privatus, et loco suo, perpetuo damnationis
teneatur religatus ergastulo: cui tamen communio exeunti ex hac vita
non neganda est, propter domini misericordiam, _qui non vult peccatoris
mortem, sed ut convertatur et vivat_." (Canon 6.)
It should be remarked, that the word _familia_, employed in the two
last canons which we have just cited, should be understood of slaves.
The real meaning of this word is clearly shown us by the 74th canon of
the 4th Council of Toledo.
"De _familiis_ ecclesiæ constituere presbyteros et diaconos per
parochias liceat ..... ea tamen ratione ut _antea manumissi libertatem
status sui percipiant_."
We see this word employed in the same sense by Pope St. Gregory.
(Epist. xliv. l. 4.)
_A penance is imposed on the master who kills his slave of his own
authority._
(Concilium Wormatiense, anno 868.)
"Si quis servum proprium sine conscientia judicum qui tale quid
commiserit, quod morte sit dignum, occiderit, excommunicatione vel
pœnitentia biennii, reatum sanguinis emendabit." (Canon 38.)
"Si qua femina furore zeli accensa, flagris verberaverit ancillam suam,
ita ut intra tertium diem animam suam cum cruciatu effundat, eo quod
incertum sit voluntate, an casu occiderit; si voluntate, septem annos,
si casu, per quinque annorum tempora legitimam peragat pœnitentiam."
(Canon 39.)
_They check the violence of those who, to revenge themselves for the
asylum granted to slaves, take possession of the goods of the Church._
(Concilium Arausicanum primum, anno 441.)
"Si quis autem mancipia clericorum pro suis mancipiis ad ecclesiam
fugientibus crediderit occupanda, per omnes ecclesias districtissima
damnatione feriatur." (Canon 6.)
§ II.
(Ibid.) _They check all attempts made against the liberty of slaves
enfranchised by the Church, or who have been recommended to her by
will._
"In ecclesia manumissos, vel per testamentum ecclesiæ commendatos,
si quis in servitutem, vel obsequium, vel ad colonariam conditionem
imprimere tentaverit, animadversione ecclesiastica coerceatur." (Canon
7.)
_They secure the liberty of those who have received the benefit of
manumission in the Churches. The latter are enjoined to take upon
themselves the defence of the enfranchised._
(Concilium quintum Aurelianense, anno 549.)
"Et quia plurimorum suggestione comperimus, eos qui in ecclesiis juxta
patrioticam consuetudinem a servitiis fuerunt absoluti, pro libito
quorumcumque iterum ad servitium revocari, impium esse tractavimus, ut
quod in ecclesia Dei consideratione a vinculo servitutis absolvitur,
irritum habeatur. Ideo pietatis causa communi concilio placuit
observandum, ut quæcumque mancipia ab ingenuis dominis servitute
laxantur, in ea libertate maneant, quam tunc a dominis perceperunt.
Hujusmodi quoque libertas si a quocumque pulsata fuerit, cum justitia
ab ecclesiis defendatur, præter eas culpas, pro quibus leges collatas
servis revocare jusserunt libertates." (Canon 7.)
_The Church is charged with the defence of the enfranchised, whether
they have been emancipated within her enclosure, whether they have
been so by letter or testament, or have gained their liberty by
prescription. They restrain the arbitrariness of the judges towards
these unfortunate persons. It is decided that the Bishops shall take
cognizance of these causes._
(Concilium Matisconense secundum, anno 585.)
"Quæ dum postea universo cœtui secundum consuetudinem recitata
innotescerent, Prætextatus et Pappulus viri beatissimi dixerunt:
Decernat itaque, et de miseris libertis vestræ auctoritatis vigor
insignis, qui ideo plus a judicibus affliguntur, quia sacris sunt
commendati ecclesiis: ut si quas quispiam dixerit contra eos actiones
habere, non audeat eos magistratus contradere; sed in episcopi tantum
judicio, in cujus præsentia litem contestans, quæ sunt justitiæ
ac veritatis audiat. Indignum est enim, ut hi qui in sacrosancta
ecclesia jure noscuntur legitimo manumissi, aut per epistolam, aut
per testamentum, aut per longinquitatem temporis libertatis jure
fruuntur, a quolibet injustissime inquietentur. Universa sacerdotalis
Congregatio dixit: Justum est, ut contra calumniatorum omnium versutias
defendantur, qui patrocinium immortalis ecclesiæ concupiscunt. Et
quicumque a nobis de libertis latum decretum, superbiæ ausu prævaricare
tentaverit, irreparabili damnationis suæ sententia feriatur. Sed si
placuerit episcopo ordinarium judicem, aut quemlibet alium sæcularem,
in audientiam eorum accersiri, cum libuerit fiat, et nullus alius
audeat causas pertractare libertorum nisi episcopus cujus interest, aut
is cui idem audiendum tradiderit." (Canon 7.)
_The defence of the freed is confided to the priests._
(Concilium Parisiense quintum, anno 614.)
"Liberti quorumcumque ingenuorum a sacerdotibus defensentur, nec ad
publicum ulterius revocentur. Quod si quis ausu temerario eos imprimere
voluerit, aut ad publicum revocare, et admonitus per pontificem ad
audientiam venire neglexerit, aut emendare quod perpetravit distulerit,
communione privetur." (Canon 5.)
_The enfranchised recommended to the Churches shall be protected by the
Bishops._
(Concilium Toletanum tertium, anno 589.)
"De libertis autem id Dei præcipiunt sacerdotes, ut si qui ab episcopis
facti sunt secundum modum quo canones antiqui dant licentiam, sint
liberi; et tantum a patrocinio ecclesiæ tam ipsi quam ab eis progeniti
non recedant. Ab aliis quoque libertati traditi, et ecclesiis
commendati, patrocinio episcopali tegantur, a principe hoc episcopus
postulet." (Canon 6.)
_The Church undertakes to defend the liberty and the property acquired
by industry of the enfranchised who have been recommended to her._
(Concilium Toletanum quartum, anno 633.)
"Liberti qui a quibuscumque manumissi sunt, atque ecclesiæ patrocinio
commendati existunt, sicut regulæ antiquorum patrum constituerunt,
sacerdotali defensione a cujuslibet insolentia protegantur; sive in
statu libertatis eorum, seu in peculio quod habere noscuntur." (Cap.
72.)
_The Church will defend the enfranchised: a regulation which does not
distinguish whether they have been recommended to her or not._
(Concilium Agathense, anno 506.)
"Libertos legitime a dominis suis factos ecclesia, si necessitas
exegerit, tueatur; quod si quis ante audientiam, aut pervadere, aut
expoliare præsumpserit, ab ecclesia repellatur." (Canon 29.)
§ III.
_The Church shall regard the ransom of captives as her first care; she
shall give their interests the preference over her own, however bad
may be the state of her affairs._
"Sicut omnino grave est, frustra ecclesiastica ministeria venundare,
sic iterum culpa est, imminente hujusmodi necessitate, res maxime
desolatæ Ecclesiæ captivis suis præponere, et in eorum redemptione
cessare." (Caus. xii. q. 2, canon 16.)
_Remarkable words of St. Ambrose touching the ransom of captives.
To perform this pious duty, the holy Bishop breaks up and sells the
sacred vessels._
(S. Ambrosius de Off. lib. ii. cap. 15.)
(§ 70.) "Summa etiam liberalitas captos redimere, eripere ex hostium
manibus, subtrahere neci homines, et maxime feminas turpidini, reddere
parentibus liberos, parentes liberis, cives patriæ, restituere. Nota
sunt hæc nimis Illyriæ vastitate et Thraciæ: quanti ubique venales
erant captivi orbe....
Ibid. (§ 71.) "Præcipua est igitur liberalitas, redimere captivos
et maxime ab hoste barbaro, qui nihil deferat humanitatis ad
misericordiam, nisi quod avaritia reservaverit ad redemptionem."
Ib. l. ii. c. 2 (§ 13.) "_Ut nos aliquando in invidiam incidimus, quod
confregerimus vasa mystica, ut captivos redimeremus_, quod Arianis
displicere potuerat, nec tam factum displiceret, quam ut esset quod in
nobis reprehenderetur."
These noble and charitable sentiments were not those of St. Ambrose
only; his words are but the expression of the feelings of the whole
Church. Without referring to numberless proofs which I might adduce
here, and before I pass to the canons which I mean to insert, I will
copy some passages from a touching letter of St. Cyprian, which
contains the motives which animated the Church in her pious enterprise,
and gives a lively description of her zeal and charity in these
admirable efforts.
"Cyprianus Januario, Maximo, Proculo, Victori, Modiano, Nemesiano,
Nampulo, et Honorato, fratribus salutem. Cum maximo animi nostri gemitu
et non sine lacrymis legimus litteras vestras, fratres carissimi, quas
ad nos pro dilectionis vestræ sollicitudine de fratrum nostrorum et
sororum captivitate fecistis. Quis enim non doleat in ejusmodi casibus,
aut quis non dolorem fratris sui suum proprium computet cum loquatur
apostolus Paulus et dicat: _Si patitur unum membrum, compatiuntur et
cætera membra: si lætatur membrum unum, collætantur et cætera membra._
(1 ad Cor. xii. 26.) Et alio loco: _Quis infirmatur, inquit, et non ego
infirmor?_ (2 ad Cor. xi. 29.) Quare nunc et nobis captivitas fratrum
nostra captivitas computanda est, et periclitantium dolor pro nostro
dolore numerandus est, cum sit scilicet adunationis nostræ corpus
unum, et non tantum dilectio sed et religio instigare nos debeat et
confortare ad fratrum membra redimenda. Nam cum denuo apostolus Paulus
dicat: _Nescitis quia templum Dei estis, et Spiritus Dei habitat in
vobis?_ (1 ad Cor. iii. 16), etiamsi charitas nos minus adigeret ad
opem fratribus ferendam, considerandum tamen hoc in loco fuit, Dei
templum esse quæ capta sunt, nec pati nos longa cessatione et neglecto
dolore debere, ut diu Dei templa captiva sint; sed quibus possumus
viribus elaborare et velociter gerere ut Christum judicem et Dominum
et Deum nostrum promereamur obsequiis nostris. Nam cum dicat Paulus
apostolus, _Quotquot in Christo baptizati estis, Christum induistis_
(ad Gal. iii. 27,) in captivis fratribus nostrus contemplandus est
Christus et redimendus de periculo captivitatis, qui nos de diaboli
faucibus exuit, nunc ipse qui manet et habitat in nobis de barbarorum
manibus exuatur, et redimatur nummaria quantitate qui nos cruce redemit
et sanguine.
* * * * *
Quantus vero communis omnibus nobis mœror atque cruciatus est de
periculo virginum quæ illic tenentur? pro quibus non tantum libertatis,
sed et pudoris jactura plangenda est, nec tam vincula barbarorum quam
lenonum et lupanarium stupra defienda sunt, ne membra Christo dicata
et in æternum continentiæ honorum pudica virtute devota, insultantium
libidine et contagione fœdentur? Quæ omnia istic secundum litteras
vestras fraternitas nostra cogitans et dolenter examinans, prompte
omnes et libenter ac largiter subsidia nummaria fratribus contulerunt.
* * * * *
Misimus autem sestertia centum millia nummorum, quæ istic in
ecclesia cui de Domini indulgentia præsumus, cleri et plebis apud
nos consistentis collatione, collecta sunt, quæ vos illic pro vestra
diligentia dispensabitis.
* * * * *
Si tamen ad explorandam nostri anima charitatem, et examinandi nostri
pectoris fidem tale aliquid acciderit, nolite cunctari nuntiare hæc
nobis litteris vestris, pro certo habentes ecclesiam nostram et
fraternitatem istic universam, ne hæc ultra fiant precibus orare, si
facta fuerint, libenter et largiter subsidia præstare." (Epist. 60.)
Thus the zeal for the redemption of captives, a zeal which was exerted
with so much ardor in later ages, had appeared in the earliest times of
the Church; this zeal was founded on grand and sublime motives, which
render this work in some measure divine, and secure to those who devote
themselves to it an unfading crown. Important information on this
subject will be found also in the works of St. Gregory. (V. lib. iii.
ep. 16; lib. iv. ep. 17; lib. vi. ep. 35; lib. vii. ep. 26, 28, and 38;
lib. ix. ep. 17.)
_The property of the Church employed for the redemption of captives._
(Concilium Matisconense secundum, anno 585.)
"Unde statuimus ac decernimus, ut mos antiquus a fidelibus reparetur;
et decimas ecclesiasticis famulantibus ceremoniis populus omnis
inferat, quas sacerdotes aut in pauperum usum _aut in captivorum
redemptionem prærogantes_, suis orationibus pacem populo ac salutem
impetrent: si quis autem contumax nostris statutis saluberrimis fuerit,
a membris ecclesiæ omni tempore separetur." (Canon 5.)
_It is allowed to break up the sacred vessels, in order to devote the
price of them to the redemption of captives._
(Concilium Rhemense, anno 625 vel 630.)
"Si quis episcopus, excepto si evenerit ardua necessitas pro
redemptione captivorum ministeria sancta frangere pro qualicumque
conditione presumpserit, ab officio cessabit ecclesiæ." (Canon 22.)
The following canon informs us that the Bishops gave letters of
recommendation to the captives; they are desired to state therein the
date and price of the ransom; they are requested also to mention there
the wants of those who are thus restored to liberty.
(Concilium Lugdunense tertium, anno 583.)
"Id etiam de epistolis placuit captivorum, ut ita sint sancti
pontifices cauti, ut in servitio pontificibus consistentibus qui eorum
manu vel subscriptione agnoscat epistolæ aut quælibet insinuationum
litteræ dari debeant, quatenus de subscriptionibus nulla ratione
possit Deo propitio dubitari: et epistola commendationis pro
necessitate cujuslibet promulgata dies datarum et pretia constituta,
vel necessitates captivorum quos cum epistolis dirigunt, ibidem
inserantur." (Canon 2.)
_Excess into which some ecclesiastics allowed themselves to fall, by
an indiscreet zeal in favor of captives._
(Synodus S. Patricii, Auxilii et Isernini Episcoporum in Hibernia
celebrata, circa annum Christi 450 vel 456.)
"Si quis clericorum voluerit juvare captivo cum suo pretio illi
subveniat, nam si per furtum illum inviolaverit, blasphemantur multi
clerici per unum latronem, qui sic fecerit excommunionis sit." (Canon
32.)
The church employed her property in the ransom of captives; and when
the latter had afterwards acquired the means of repaying the sums
advanced for them, she refused all reimbursement and graciously gave up
the price of the ransom.
(Ex epistolis S. Gregorii.)
"Sacrorum canonum statuta et legalis permittit auctoritates, lici
res ecclesiasticas in redemptionem captivorum impendi. Et ideo, quia
edocti a vobis sumus, ante annos fere 18, virum reverendissimum
quemdam Fabium, Episcopum Ecclesiæ Firmanæ, libras 11 argenti de eadem
ecclesia pro redemptione vestra, ac patris vestri Passivi, fratris et
co-episcopi nostri, tunc vero clerici, necnon matris vestræ, hostibus
impendisse, atque ex hoc quamdam formidinem vos habere, ne hoc
quod datum est, a vobis quolibet tempore repetatur, hujus præcepti
auctoritate suspicionem vestram prævidimus auferendam; constituentes,
nullam vos exinde, hæredesque vestros quolibet tempore repetitionis
molestiam sustinere, nec a quoquam vobis aliquam objici quæstionem."
(L. 7, ep. 14, et hab. Cuas. 12, q. 2, c. 15.)
_The property of the Church served to ransom captives._
(Concilium Vernense secundum, anno 844.)
"Ecclesiæ facultates quas reges et reliqui christiani Deo voverunt,
ad alimentum servorum Dei et pauperum, ad exceptionem hospitum,
_redemptionis captivorum_, atque templorum Dei instaurationem, nunc
in usu sæcularium detinentur. Hinc multi servi Dei penuriam cibi et
potus ac vestimentorum patiuntur, pauperes consuetam eleemosynam non
accipiunt, negliguntur hospites, _fraudantur captivi_, et fama omnium
merito laceratur." (Canon 12.)
Let us observe in this canon the use which the Church made of her
property; after having supported the clergy, and maintained divine
worship, she devoted it to succor the poor, travellers or pilgrims,
and to redeem captives. I make this observation here, because the
opportunity offers; not because this canon is the only proof of the
excellent use which the Church made of her property. Indeed, a great
number of others might be cited, beginning with the canons called
Apostolical. It is necessary also to remark the expression which is
sometimes made use of to stigmatize the wickedness of the spoilers of
the Church, or of those who administer her property badly; they are
called _pauperum necatores_, 'murderers of the poor;' to make it well
understood that one of the principal objects of this property is the
support of the necessitous.
§ IV.
_Those who attempt to take away the liberty of persons are
excommunicated._
(Concilium Lugdunense secundum, anno 566.)
"Et qui peccatis facientibus multi in perniciem animæ suæ ita conati
sunt, aut conantur assurgere, ut animas longa temporis quiete sine
ulla status sui competitione viventes, nunc improba proditione atque
traditione, aut captivaverint aut captivare conentur, si juxta
præceptum domini regis emendare distulerint, quousque hos quos
obduxerunt, in loco in quo longum tempus quiete vixerint, restaurare
debeant, ecclesiæ communione priventur." (Canon 3.)
We see in this canon that private individuals, by too frequent
attempts, employed violence to reduce free persons to slavery. At
this time, on account of the irruptions of the barbarians, the state
of Europe was such, that public authority, weak in the extreme, did
not, properly speaking, exist. This is the reason why it is so noble
to see the Church struggling every where to support public order, to
defend liberty, and excommunicating those who attacked that liberty, in
contempt of the commands of the king.
_The same abuse repressed._
(Concilium Rhemense, anno 625 vel 630.)
"Si quis ingenuum aut liberum ad servitium inclinare voluerit, aut
fortasse jam fecit, et commonitus ab episcopo se de inquietudine ejus
revocare neglexerit, aut emendare noluerit, tamquam calumniæ reum
placuit sequestrari." (Canon 17.)
_It is declared that he who leads away a Christian to sell him, is
guilty of homicide._
(Concilium Confluentinum, anno 922.)
"Item interrogatum est, quid de eo faciendum sit qui christianum
hominem seduxerit, et sic vendiderit: responsumque est ab omnibus,
homicidii reatum, ipsum hominem sibi contrahere." (Canon 7.)
_The traffic in men, practised at that time in England, is proscribed;
it is forbidden to sell men like ignoble animals._
(Concilium Londinense, anno 1102.)
"Ne quis illud _nefarium negotium_ quo hactenus in Anglia solebant
homines sicut bruta animalia venundari, deinceps ullatenus facere
præsumat."
We see, from the canon which I have just cited, to what point the
Church had attained in all that affects true civilization. We are in
the nineteenth century, and it is considered that a great step has been
gained in modern civilization by the consent of the great European
nations to sign treaties to suppress the slave-trade; now the canon
which we have just cited tells us, that at the beginning of the twelfth
century, and in that very town of London, where the famous Convention
was lately held, the traffic in men was forbidden, and stigmatized as
it deserves. _Nefarium negotium_--detestable trade--it is called by the
Council: _infamous traffic_, it is called by modern civilization, the
unconscious heir of the thoughts and even the words of those men who
are treated by it as barbarians, of those Bishops, whom calumny has
more or less represented as a band of conspirators against the liberty
and happiness of the human race.
_It is ordered that persons who have been sold or pledged, shall
immediately recover their liberty by restoring the price received; it
is ordained that more shall not be required of them than they shall
have received for their liberty._
(Synodus incerti loci, circa annum 616.)
"De ingenuis qui se pro pecunia aut alia revendiderint, vel
oppignoraverint, placuit ut quandoquidem pretium, quantum pro ipsis
datum est, invenire potuerunt, absque dilatione ad statum suæ
conditionis reddito pretio reformentur, nec amplius quam pro eis datum
est requiratur. Et interim, si vir ex ipsis, uxorem ingenuam habuerit,
aut mulier ingenuum habuerit maritum, filii qui ex ipsis nati fuerint,
in ingenuitate permaneant." (Canon 14.)
The text of this Council, held, according to some, at Boneuil, well
deserves to have some remarks made on it. The beneficial regulation
which allowed a man who had been sold to regain his liberty by paying
the sum received, checked an evil which was deeply rooted in the
customs of Gaul at that time, for we find it at a very early period. We
know, indeed, from Cæsar, whose testimony we have cited in the text,
that many men of that country sold their liberty to relieve themselves
from difficulties. Let us also remark the regulation contained in the
same canon with respect to the children of the person who was sold;
whether it be the father or mother, the canon prescribes, in both
cases, that the children shall be free; and it here departs from the
well known rule of civil law: _partus sequitur ventrem_.
§ V.
_It is forbidden to give up to the Jews the slaves who have taken
refuge in the churches; it matters little whether they have chosen
that asylum because their masters obliged them to things contrary to
the Christian faith, or because they have been maltreated by them
after having been once withdrawn from the sacred asylum under the
promise of pardon._
(Concilium Aurelianense tertium, anno 538.)
"De mancipiis Christianis, quæ in Judæorum servitio detinentur, si eis
quod Christiana religio vetat, a dominis imponitur, aut si eos quos de
ecclesia excusatos tollent, pro culpa quæ remissa est, affligere aut
cædere fortasse præsumpserint, et ad ecclesiam iterato confugerint,
nullatenus a sacerdote reddantur, nisi pretium offeratur ac detur, quod
mancipia ipsa valere pronuntiaverit justa taxatio." (Canon 13.)
_The precept given in the preceding canon is renewed; a precept
contained in the canon which we have just cited._
(Concilium Aurelianense quartum, anno 541.)
"Cum prioribus canonibus jam fuerit definitum ut de mancipiis
Christianis, quæ apud Judæos sunt, si ad ecclesiam confugerint, et
redimi se postulaverint, etiam ad quoscumque Christianos refugerint, et
servire Judæis noluerint, taxato et oblato a fidelibus justo pretio, ab
eorum dominio liberentur, ideo statuimus, ut tam justa constitutio ab
omnibus catholicis conservetur." (Canon 30.)
_The Jew who perverts a Christian slave is punished with the loss of
all his slaves._ (Ibid.)
"Hoc etiam decernimus observandum, ut quicumque Judæus proselytum, qui
advena dicitur, Judæum facere præsumpserit, aut Christianum factum ad
Judaicam superstitionem adducere; vel si Judæus Christianam ancillam
suam sibi crediderit sociandam; vel si de parentibus Christianis natum,
Judæum sub promissione fecerit libertatis, mancipiorum amissione
mulctetur." (Canon 31.)
_Jews are forbidden to have Christian slaves henceforth; as to those
who are in their power, all Christians are allowed to ransom them by
paying their Jewish masters twelve solidi._
(Concilium Matisconense primum, anno 581.)
"Et liceat quid de Christianis qui aut de captivitatis incursu, aut
fraudibus Judæorum servitio implicantur, debeat observari, non solum
canonicis statutis, sed et legum beneficio pridem fuerit constitutum;
tamen quia nunc item quo rumdam querela exorta est, quosdam Judæos,
per civitates aut municipia consistentes, in tantam insolentiam et
proterviam prorupisse, ut nec reclamantes Christianos liceat vel
pretio de eorum servitute absolvi: idcirco præsenti concilio, Deo
auctore, sancimus, ut nullus Christianus Judæos deinceps debeat
deservire; sed datis pro quolibet bono mancipio 12 solidis, ipsum
mancipium quicumque Christianus, seu ad ingenuitatem, seu ad servitium,
licentiam habeat redimendi; quia nefas est, ut quos Christus Dominus
sanguinis sui effusione redemit, persecutorum vinculis maneant
irretiti. Quod si acquiescere his quæ statuimus quicumque Judæus
noluerit, quamdiu ad pecuniam constitutam venire distulerit, liceat
mancipio ipsi cum Christianis ubicumque voluerit habitare. Illud etiam
specialiter sancientes, quod si quis Judæus Christianum mancipium ad
errorem Judaicum convictus fuerit suasisse, ut ipse mancipio careat, et
legandi damnatione plectatur." (Canon 16.)
* * * * *
The preceding canon is almost equivalent to a decree for the entire
emancipation of Christian slaves; for if, on the one hand, Jews were
forbidden to acquire new Christian slaves, and, on the other, those who
were in their possession could be redeemed by the first Christian who
came, it is clear that the charity of the faithful thus finding a door
open to it, the number of Christian slaves who groaned in the power of
the Jews must have diminished in an extraordinary manner. It is not
said that these canonical regulations of the Church from the first
moment obtained all the result which was intended; but, as she was
the only power that remained standing at that time, and the only one
that exercised influence on the nations, it cannot be doubted that her
regulations were infinitely advantageous to those in whose favor they
were established.
_Jews are forbidden to acquire Christian slaves. If a Jew perverts to
Judaism, or circumcises a Christian slave, the latter becomes free
without having any thing to pay to his master._
(Concilium Toletanum tertium, anno 589.)
"Suggerente concilio, id gloriossimus dominus noster canonibus
inserendum præcipit, ut Judæis non liceat Christianas habere uxores,
_neque mancipia comparare in usus proprios_....
"Si qui vero Christiani ab eis Judaico ritu sunt maculati, vel etiam
circumcisi, non reddito pretio ad libertatem et religionem redeant
Christianam." (Canon 14.)
This canon is remarkable, both because it protects the conscience of
the slave, and imposes on masters a punishment favorable to liberty.
This manner of checking the arbitrary power of those who violated the
consciences of their slaves, is found, during the following century, in
a curious example contained in the collection of the laws of Ina, queen
of the West Saxons. It is this:
_If a master makes his slave work on Sunday, the slave becomes free._
(Leges Ynæ reginæ Saxonum Occiduorum, anno 692.)
"Si servus operetur die dominica per præceptum domini sui, sit liber."
(Leg. iii.)
Another curious example:
_If a master gives meat to a slave on a fasting-day, the slave becomes
free._
(Concilium Berghamstedæ anno 5^o Withredi regis Cantii, id est Christi
697: sub Bertualdo Cantuariensi archiepiscopo celebratum. Hæc sunt
judicia Withredi regis Cantuariorum.)
"Si quis servo suo carnem in jejunio dediderit comedendam, servus liber
exeat." (Canon 15.)
_It is definitively forbidden for Jews to have Christian slaves;
all contravention of this order shall deprive the Jews of all their
slaves, who shall obtain their liberty from the prince._
(Concilium Toletanum quartum, anno 633.)
"Ex decreto gloriosissimi principis hoc sanctum elegit concilium, ut
Judæis non liceat Christianos servos habere, nec Christiana mancipia
emere, nec cujusquam consequi largitate: nefas est enim ut membra
Christi serviant Antichristi ministris. Quod si deinceps servos
Christianos, vel ancillas Judæi habere præsumpserint, sublati ab eorum
dominatu libertatem a principe consequantur." (Canon 66.)
_It is forbidden to sell Christian slaves to Jews or Gentiles; if such
sales have been made, they shall be annulled._
(Concilium Rhemense, anno 625.)
"Ut Christiani Judæis vel Gentilibus non vendantur; et si quis
Christianorum necessitate cogente mancipia sua Christiana elegerit
venundanda, non aliis nisi tantum Christianis expendat. Nam si
paganis aut Judæis vendiderit, communione privetur, et emptio careat
firmitate." (Canon 11.)
No precaution was too great in those unhappy times. It might appear at
first that such regulations were an effect of the intolerance of the
Church with respect to the Jews and Pagans; and yet, in reality, they
were a barrier against the barbarism which invaded all; they were a
guarantee of the most sacred rights of man; so much the more necessary,
as all the others, it may be said, had disappeared. Read the document
which we are about to transcribe; you will there see that barbarism was
carried so far, that slaves were sold to the Pagans to be sacrificed.
(Gregorius Papa III. ep. ad Bonifacium Archiepiscopum, anno 731.)
"Hoc quoque inter alia crimina agi in partibus illis dixisti, quod
quidam ex fidelibus ad _immolandum_ paganis sua venundent mancipia.
Quod ut magnopere corrigere debeas, frater, commonemus, nec sinas fieri
ultra; scelus est enim et impietas. Eis ergo qui hæc perpetraverunt,
similem homicidæ indices pœnitentiam."
These excesses must have occupied the active attention of the Church,
as we see the Council of Liptines, held in 743, again insist on this
point, and forbid Christian slaves to be given up to the Gentiles.
"Et ut mancipia Christiana paganis non tradantur." (Canon 7.)
_It is forbidden to sell a Christian slave out of the territory
comprised within the kingdom of Clovis._
(Concilium Cabilonense, anno 650.)
"Pietatis est maximæ et religionis intuitus, ut captivitatis vinculum
omnino a Christianis redimatur. Unde sancta Synodus noscitur censuisse,
ut nullus mancipium extra fines vel terminos, qui ad regnum domini
Clodovei regis pertinent, debeat venundare, ne quod absit, per tale
commercium, aut captivitatis vinculo, vel quod pejus est, Judaica
servitute mancipia Christiana teneantur implicita." (Canon 9.)
This canon, which forbids the selling of Christian slaves out of the
kingdom of Clovis, for fear that they should fall into the power of
the Pagans and Jews, and the other of the Council of Rheims, cited
above, which contains a similar regulation, are worthy of remark,
under two aspects; they show, 1st, the high respect which we ought
to have for the soul of man, even of him who is a slave, since it
is forbidden to sell him where his conscience might be in danger: a
respect which it was very important to maintain, both in order to
eradicate the erroneous maxims of antiquity on this point, and because
it was the first step towards emancipation. 2d. By limiting the power
of sale, there was introduced into that kind of property a law which
distinguished it from others, and placed it in a different and more
elevated category. This was a great step made towards declaring open
war against this property itself, and abolishing it by legitimate means.
_Clerics who sold their slaves to Jews are severely reproved: they are
threatened with alarming punishments._
(Concilium decimum Toletanum, anno 656.)
"Septimæ collationis immane satis et infandum operationis studium
nunc sanctum nostrum adiit concilium; quod plerique ex sacerdotibus
et levitis, qui pro sacris ministeriis, et pietatis studio,
gubernationisque augmento sanctæ ecclesiæ deputati sunt officio,
malunt imitari turbam malorum, potius quam sanctorum patrum insistere
mandatis: ut ipsi etiam qui redimere debuerunt, venditiones facere
intendant, quos Christi sanguine præsciunt esse redemptos; ita
duntaxat, ut eorum dominio qui sunt empti in ritu Judaismo convertantur
oppressi, et fit execrabile commercium, ubi nitente Deo justum est
sanctum adesse conventum; quia majorum canones vetuerunt ut nullus
Judæorum conjugia vel servitia habere præsumat de Christianorum cœtu."
Here the Council eloquently reprimands the guilty; it continues:
"Si quis enim post hanc definitionem talia agere tentaverit, noverit se
extra ecclesiam fieri, et præsenti, et futuro judicio cum Juda simili
pœna percelli, dum modo Dominum denuo proditionis pretio malunt ad
iracundiam provocare." (Canon 7.)
§ VI.
_Pope St. Gregory the First gives freedom to two slaves of the Church
of Rome. Remarkable passage, in which this holy pope explains the
motives which induced the Christians to enfranchise their slaves._
"Cum Redemptor noster totius conditor creaturæ ad hoc propitiatus
humanam voluerit carnem assumere, ut divinitatis suæ gratia, diruto
quo tenebamur captivi vinculo servitutis, pristinæ nos restitueret
libertati; salubriter agiter, si homines quos ab initio natura creavit
liberos et protulit, et jus gentium jugo substituit servitutis, in
ea natura in qua nati fuerant, manumittentis beneficio, libertati
reddantur. Atque ideo pietatis intuitu, et hujus rei consideratione
permoti, vos Montanam atque Thomam famulos sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ, cui
Deo adjutore deservimus, liberos ex hac die civesque Romanos efficimus,
omneque vestrum vobis relaxamus servitutis peculium." (S. Greg. l. v.
ep. 12.)
_Bishops are directed to respect the liberty of those who have been
enfranchised by their predecessors. Mention is made of the power given
to Bishops to free their slaves who deserve well, and the sum is fixed
which they may give them to aid them in living._
(Concilium Agathense, anno 506.)
"Sane si quos de servis ecclesiæ benemeritos sibi episcopus libertate
donaverit, collatam libertatem a successoribus placuit custodiri, cum
hoc quod eis manumissor in libertate contulerit, quod tamen jubemus
viginti solidorum numerum, et modum in terrula, vineola, vel hospitiolo
tenere. Quod amplius datum fuerit, post manumissoris mortem ecclesia
revocabit." (Canon 7.)
_What has been mortgaged or alienated from the property of the Church
by a Bishop who has left nothing of his own, must be restored; but
enfranchised slaves are excepted from this rule: they shall preserve
their liberty._
(Concilium Aurelianense quartum, anno 541.)
"Ut episcopus qui de facultate propria ecclesiæ nihil relinquit, de
ecclesiæ facultate si quid aliter quam canones eloquunter obligaverit,
vendiderit, aut distraxerit, ad ecclesiam revocetur. Sane si de servis
ecclesiæ libertos fecerit numero competenti, in ingenuitate permaneant,
ita ut ab officio ecclesiæ non recedant." (Canon 9.)
An English Council ordains that, at the death of each Bishop, all his
English slaves shall be freed. The solemnization of the obsequies is
regulated; to terminate the funeral ceremonies, each Bishop and abbot
shall enfranchise three slaves, by giving them each three solidi.
(Synodus Cellichytensis, anno 816.)
"Decimo jubetur, et hoc firmiter statuimus asservandum, tam in nostris
diebus, quamque etiam futuris temporibus, omnibus successoribus
nostris qui post nos illis sedibus ordinentur quibus ordinati sumus:
ut quandocumque aliquis ex numero episcoporum migraverit de sæculo,
hoc pro anima illius præcipimus, ex substantia uniuscumque rei
decimam partem dividere, ac distribuere pauperibus in eleemosynam,
sive in pecoribus, et armentis, seu de ovibus et porcis, vel etiam in
cellariis, _nec non omnem hominem Anglicum liberare, qui in diebus suis
sit servituti subjectus_, ut per illud sui proprii laboris fructum
retributionis percipere mereatur, et indulgentiam peccatorum. Nec
ullatenus ab aliqua persona huic capitulo contradicatur, sed magis,
prout condecet, a successoribus augeatur, et ejus memoria semper in
posterum per universas ecclesias nostræ ditioni subjectas cum Dei
laudibus habeatur et honoretur. Prorsus orationes et eleemosynas quæ
inter nos specialiter condictam habemus, id est, ut statim per singulas
parochias in singulis quibusque ecclesiis, pulsato signo, omnis
famulorum Dei cœtus ad basilicam conveniant, ibique pariter XXX psalmos
pro defuncti animæ decantent. Et postea unusquisque antistes et abbas
sexcentos psalmos, et centum viginti missas celebrare faciat, _et tres
homines liberet et eorum cuilibet tres solidos distribuat_." (Canon 10.)
_A curious document, which shows the generous resolution made by the
Council of Armagh in Ireland, to give liberty to all the English
slaves._
(Concilium Ardamachiense in Hibernia celebratum, anno 1171: ex Giraldo
Cambrensi, cap. xxviii. Hiberniæ expugnatæ.)
"His completis convocato apud Ardamachiam totius Hiberniæ clero, et
super advenarum in insulam adventu tractato diutius et deliberato,
tandem communis omnium in hoc sententia resedit: propter peccata
scilicet populi sui, eoque præcipue quod Anglos olim, tam a
mercatoribus, quam prædonibus atque piratis, emere passim, et in
servitutem redigere consueverant, divinæ censura vindictæ hoc eis
incommodum accidisse, ut et ipsi quoque ab eadem gente in servitutem
vice reciproca jam redigantur. Anglorum namque populus adhuc integro
eorum regno, communi gentis vitio, liberos suos venales exponere, et
priusquam inopiam ullam aut inediam sustinerent, filios proprios et
cognatos in Hiberniam vendere consueverant. Unde et probabiliter credi
potest, sicut venditores olim, ita et emptores, tam enormi delicto juga
servitutis jam meruisse. Decretum est itaque in prædicto concilio,
et cum universitatis consensu publice statutum, ut Angli ubique
per insulam, servitutis vinculo mancipati, in pristinam revocentur
libertatem."
It is thus that religious ideas influence and soften the ferocious
manners of nations. When a public calamity occurs, they immediately
find its cause in the divine anger, justly excited by the traffic which
the Irish carried on by buying English slaves of merchants, robbers,
and pirates. It is not less curious to learn, that at that time the
English were barbarous enough to sell their children and relations,
like the Africans of our days. This frightful custom must have been
pretty general, as we read in the passage quoted, that it was the
common vice of those nations: _communi gentis vitio_. This makes us
better understand the necessity of a regulation inserted above, that
of the Council of London, held in 1102, which proscribes this infamous
traffic in men.
_It is forbidden to change the slaves of the Church for other slaves,
unless the exchange procured their liberty._
(Ex concilio apud Sylvanectum, anno 864.)
"Mancipia ecclesiastica, nisi ad libertatem non convenit commutari;
videlicet ut mancipia, quæ pro ecclesiastico homine dabuntur, in
ecclesiæ servitute permaneant, et ecclesiasticus homo, qui commutatur,
fruatur perpetua libertate. Quod enim semel Deo consecratum est, ad
humanos usus transferri non decet." (V. Decret. Greg. IX., l. iii. tit.
19, cap. 3.)
_A Canon containing the same regulation as the preceding; and whence,
moreover, it appears, that the faithful, for the salvation of their
souls, were accustomed to offer their slaves to God and the Saints._
(Ex eodem, anno 864.)
"Injustum videtur et impium, ut mancipia, quæ fideles Deo et sanctis
ejus pro remedio animæ suæ consecrarunt, cujuscumque muneris mancipio,
vel commutationis commercio iterum in servitutem secularium redigantur,
cum canonica auctoritas servos tantummodo permittat distrahi fugitives.
Et ideo ecclesiarum rectores summopere caveant, ne eleemosyna unius,
alterius peccatum fiat. Et est absurdum, ut ab ecclesiastica dignitate
servus discedens, humanæ sit obnoxius servituti." (Ibid. cap. 4.)
_Freedom shall be granted to slaves who wish to embrace the monastic
state, yet without neglecting useful precautions to ascertain the
reality of their vocation._
(Concilium Romanum sub S. Gregorio I., anno 597.)
"Multos de ecclesiastica seu sæculari familia, novimus ad omnipotentis
Dei servitium festinare, ut ab humana servitute liberi in divino
servitio valeant familiarius in monasteriis conversari, quos si passim
dimittimus, omnibus fugiendi ecclesiastici juris dominium occasionem
præbemus: si vero festinantes ad omnipotentis Dei servitium, incaute
retinemus, illi invenimur negare quædam qui dedit omnia. Unde necesse
est, ut quisquis ex juris ecclesiastici vel sæcularis militiæ servitute
ad Dei servitium converti desiderat, probetur prius in laico habitu
constitutus: et si mores ejus atque conversatio bona desiderio ejus
testimonium ferunt, absque retractatione servire in monasterio
omnipotenti Domino permittatur, ut ab humano servitio liber recedat,
qui in divino obsequio districtiorem appetit servitutem." (S. Greg.
epist. 44. lib. iv).
_The abuse of ordaining slaves without the consent of their masters
had spread; this abuse is checked._
(Ex epistolis Gelasii Papæ.)
"Ex antiquis regulis et novella synodali explanatione comprehensum est,
personas obnoxias servituti, cingulo cœlestis militiæ non præcingi. Sed
nescio utrum ignorantia an voluntate rapiamini, _ita ut ex hac causa
nullus pene Episcoporum videatur extorris_. Ita enim nos frequens et
plurimorum querela nos circumstrepit, ut ex hac parte nihil penitus
putetur constitutum." (Distin. 54. c. 9.)
"_Frequens equidem, et assidua nos querela, circumstrepit_ de his
pontificibus, qui nec antiquas regulas nec decreta nostra noviter
directa cogitantes, obnoxias possessionibus obligatasque personas,
venientes ad clericalis officii cingulum non recusant." (Ibid. c. 10.)
"Actores siquidem filiæ nostræ illustris et magnificæ feminæ, Maximæ,
petitorii nobis insinuatione conquesti sunt, Sylvestrum atque Candidum,
originarios suos, contra constitutiones, quæ supradictæ sunt, et
contradictione præeunte a Lucerino Pontifice diaconos ordinatos." (Ibid
c. 11.)
"_Generalis etiam querelæ vitanda præsumptio est, qua propemodum
causantur universi_, passim servos et originarios, dominorum jura,
possessionumque fugientes, sub religiosæ conversationis obtentu,
vel ad monasteria sese conferre, vel ad ecclesiasticum famulatum,
conniventibus quippe præsulibus, indifferenter admitti. Quæ modis
omnibus est amovenda pernicies, ne per Christiani nominis institutum
aut aliena pervadi, aut publica videatur disciplina subverti." (Ibid.
c. 12.)
_The parish priests are allowed to choose some clerics from the slaves
of the Church._
(Concilium Emeritense, anno 666.)
"Quidquid unanimiter digne disponitur in sancta Dei ecclesia,
necessarium est ut a parochitanis presbyteris custoditum maneat. Sunt
enim nonnulli, qui ecclesiarum suarum res ad plenitudinem habent, et
sollicitudo illis nulla est habendi clericos, cum quibus omnipotenti
Deo laudum debita persolvant officia. Proinde instituit hæc sancta
synodus, ut omnes parochitani presbyteri, juxta ut in rebus sibi a Deo
creditis sentiunt habere virtutem, de ecclesiæ suæ familia clericos
sibi faciant; quos per bonam voluntatem ita nutriant, ut et officium
sanctum digne paragant, et ad servitium suum aptos eos habeant. Hi
etiam victum et vestitum dispensatione presbyteri merebuntur, et domino
et presbytero suo, atque utilitati ecclesiæ fideles esse debent. Quod
si inutiles apparuerint ut culpa patuerit, correptione disciplinæ
feriantur; si quis presbyterorum hanc sententiam minime custodierit, et
non adimpleverit, ab episcopo suo corrigatur: ut plenissime custodiat,
quod digne jubetur." (Canon 18.)
_It is prescribed to the Bishops to confer liberty on the slaves of
the Church before they admit them into the clerical body._
(Concilium Toletanum nonum, anno 655.)
"Qui ex familiis ecclesiæ servituri devocantur in clerum ab episcopis
suis, necesse est, ut libertatis percipiant donum: et si honestæ vitæ
claruerint meritis, tunc demum majoribus fungantur officiis." (Canon
11.)
_It is allowed to ordain the slaves of the Church, liberty having been
previously conferred on them._
(Concilium quartem Toletanum, anno 633.)
"De familiis ecclesiæ constituere presbyteros ut diaconos per parochias
liceat; quos tamen vitæ rectitudo et probitas morum commendat: ea
tamen ratione, _ut antea manumissi libertatem status sui percipiant_,
et denuo ad ecclesiasticos honores succedant; irreligiosum est enim
obligatos existere servituti, qui sacri ordinis suscipiunt dignitatem."
§ VII.
We have shown in the text by what means, with what wisdom and
perseverance Christianity abolished slavery in the ancient world;
Christian and Catholic Europe was free at the time when Protestantism
appeared. Let us now see what Catholicity has done in modern times,
with respect to slaves in other parts of the world. We can present to
our readers in one document, which is the evidence of the ideas and
feelings of the Sovereign Pontiff Gregory XVI., an interesting history
of the solicitude of the Roman See in favor of the slaves of the whole
universe. I mean the apostolical letters published at Rome, November
3, 1839, against the slave-trade; and I recommend the perusal of them.
It will be there seen, in the most authentic and decisive manner, that
the Catholic Church, on this important subject of slavery, has always
showed, and shows still, the most lively spirit of charity, without in
the least offending against justice, or for a moment departing from the
path of prudence.
"_Gregorius P. P._ XVI. _ad futuram rei memoriam_.
"Raised to the supreme degree of the apostolical dignity, and filling,
although without any merit on our part, the place of Jesus Christ, the
Son of God, who, by the excess of His charity, has deigned to become
man, and die for the redemption of the world; we consider that it
belongs to our pastoral solicitude to exert all our efforts to prevent
Christians from engaging in the trade in blacks or any other men,
whoever they may be.
"As soon as the light of the Gospel began to spread, the unfortunate
men who fell into the hard fate of slavery during the numerous wars
of that period, felt their condition improved; for the apostles,
inspired by the Spirit of God, on the one hand, taught slaves to obey
their earthly masters, as Jesus Christ Himself, and to be resigned
from the bottom of their heart to the will of God; but, on the other,
they commanded masters to behave well to their slaves, to grant them
what was just and equitable, and not to treat them with anger, knowing
that the Lord of both is in heaven, and that with Him there is no
distinction of persons.
"The law of the Gospel having very soon universally and fundamentally
ordained sincere charity towards all, and the Lord Jesus having
declared that He would regard as done or refused to Himself all the
acts of beneficence and mercy done or refused to the poor and little
ones--it naturally followed that Christians not only regarded their
slaves as brethren, above all when they were become Christians, but
that they were more inclined to give liberty to those who rendered
themselves worthy of it. This usually took place particularly on the
solemn feasts of Easter, as St. Gregory of Nyssa relates. There were
even found some who, inflamed with more ardent charity, _embraced
slavery for the redemption of their brethren_; and an apostolic man,
our predecessor, Pope Gregory I., of sacred memory, attests that he
had known a great many who performed this work of mercy. Wherefore
the darkness of Pagan superstition being entirely dissipated in the
progress of time, and the manners of the most barbarous nations being
softened,--thanks to the benefit of faith working by charity,--things
advanced so far, that for many centuries there have been no slaves
among the greater part of Christian nations. Yet (we say it with
profound sorrow) men have been since found, even among Christians, who,
shamefully blinded by the desire of sordid gain, have not hesitated
to reduce into slavery, in distant countries, Indians, Negroes, and
other unfortunate races; or to assist in this scandalous crime, by
instituting and organizing a traffic in these unfortunate beings, who
had been loaded with chains by others. A great number of the Roman
Pontiffs, our predecessors of glorious memory, have not forgotten to
stigmatize, throughout the extent of their jurisdiction, the conduct
of these men as injurious to their salvation, and disgraceful to the
Christian name; for they clearly saw that it was one of the causes
which tended most powerfully to make infidel nations continue in their
hatred to the true religion.
"This was the object of the apostolical letters of Paul III., of the
29th of May, 1537, addressed to the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo,
under the ring of the fisherman, and other letters, much more copious,
of Urban VIII., of the 22d April, 1639, addressed to the collector of
the rights of the Apostolic Chamber in Portugal,--letters, in which
the most severe censures are cast upon those who venture to reduce the
inhabitants of the East or West Indies into slavery, buy, sell, give,
or exchange them, separate them from their wives and children, strip
them of their property, take or send them into strange places, or
deprive them of their liberty in any way; to retain them in slavery;
or aid, counsel, succor, or favor those who do these things under any
color or pretence whatever; or preach or teach that this is lawful,
and, in fine, co-operate therewith in any way whatever. Benedict XIV.
has since confirmed and renewed these pontifical ordinances before
mentioned by new apostolical letters to the Bishops of Brazil and some
other countries, dated the 20th December, 1741, by means of which he
calls forth the solicitude of the Bishops for the same purpose. A
long time before, another of our more ancient predecessors, Pius II.,
whose pontificate saw the empire of the Portuguese extended in Guinea
and in the country of the blacks, addressed letters, dated the 7th of
October, 1482, to the Bishop of Ruvo, who was ready to depart for those
countries: in these letters he did not confine himself to giving to
this prelate the means requisite for exercising the sacred ministry
in those countries with the greatest fruit, but he took occasion very
severely to blame the conduct of those who reduced the neophytes into
slavery. In fine, in our days, Pius VII., animated by the same spirit
of charity and religion as his predecessors, zealously interposed his
good offices with men of authority for the entire abolition of the
slave-trade among Christians.
"These ordinances, and this solicitude of our predecessors, have
availed not a little, with the aid of God, in defending the Indians,
and other nations who have just been mentioned, against the barbarity
of conquest, and the cupidity of Christian merchants; but the Holy See
is far from being able to boast of the complete success of its efforts
and zeal, for, if the slave-trade has been partially abolished, it
is still carried on by a great many Christians. Wherefore, desiring
to remove such a disgrace from all Christian countries, after having
maturely considered the matter with many of our venerable brethren, the
Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, assembled in Council, following
the example of our predecessors, by virtue of the apostolic office,
we warn and admonish in the Lord all Christians, of whatever condition
they may be, and enjoin upon them that, for the future, no one shall
venture unjustly to oppress the Indians, Negroes, or other men, whoever
they may be; to strip them of their property or reduce them into
servitude: or give aid or support to those who commit such excesses, or
carry on that infamous traffic, by which the blacks, as if they were
not men, but mere impure animals, reduced like them into servitude,
without any distinction, contrary to the laws of justice and humanity,
are bought, sold, and devoted to endure the hardest labors; and on
account of which dissensions are excited and almost continual wars are
fomented among nations by the allurements of gain offered to those who
first carry away the Negroes.
"Wherefore, by virtue of the apostolical authority, we condemn all
these things aforesaid, as absolutely unworthy of the Christian name;
and, by the same authority, we absolutely prohibit and interdict all
ecclesiastics and laymen from venturing to maintain that this traffic
in blacks is permitted, under any pretext or color whatsoever; or
to preach or teach in public or in private, in any way whatever,
anything, contrary to these apostolic letters. And in order that these
letters may come to the knowledge of all, and that no one may pretend
ignorance, we ordain and decree that they be published and posted
up, according to custom, by one of our officers, on the doors of the
basilica of the Prince of the Apostles, of the Apostolic Chancery, of
the Palace of Justice, of Monte Citorio, and at the Campo di Fiori.
Given at Rome, at St. Mary Major's, under the seal of the fisherman,
the 3d of November, 1839, the ninth year of our Pontificate.
LOUIS, CARDINAL LAMBRUSCHINI."
I again particularly invite attention to the document which I have just
inserted--to these letters which magnificently crown the united efforts
of the Church for the abolition of slavery. As the abolition of the
slave-trade--the object of a treaty recently made between the great
powers--is at this moment one of the affairs which occupy the chief
attention of Europe, it is proper to pause a few moments, to reflect on
the contents of the apostolic letters of the Sovereign Pontiff Gregory
XVI. Let us observe, in the first place, that in the year 1482, Pope
Pius II. addressed apostolical letters to the Bishop of Ruvo, about to
depart for the newly discovered countries--letters, in which he did not
exclusively confine himself to giving the prelate the powers necessary
to exercise his holy ministry with the greatest fruit in those
countries, but in which he takes occasion to censure very severely
the conduct of Christians who reduced the neophytes into slavery.
Exactly at the end of the fifteenth century, at the time when it may be
said that the Church gathering the last fruit of her long labors, at
length saw Europe emerge from the chaos in which the irruption of the
barbarians had plunged her; at the time when the social and political
institutions were developed with daily increasing ardor, and began to
form a regular and coherent body; at this moment the Church resumes
her secular contest with another barbarism which reappeared in distant
countries; she opposes the abuse of the superiority of strength and
intelligence, which the conquerors possessed over the conquered nations.
This fact alone proves that, for the true liberty and well-being of
nations, for the just pre-eminence of right over might, and for the
triumph of justice over force, the intelligence and refinement of
nations are not enough--religion also is required. In ancient times,
we see nations cultivated to the highest point commit unheard of
atrocities; and in modern times, Europeans, so proud of their knowledge
and advancement, introduce slavery among the unfortunate nations who
have fallen under their dominion. Now, who was the first to raise a
voice against such injustice--against such horrible barbarity? It was
not policy, which perhaps rejoiced to see its conquests consolidated
by slavery; it was not commerce which found in this infamous traffic
an easy means of making shameful but abundant profits; it was not
philosophy, which, fully explaining the doctrines of Plato and
Aristotle, would perhaps have seen without concern the resuscitation
of the degrading theory of _races born for slavery_; but it was the
Catholic religion, expressing herself by the mouth of the Vicar of
Jesus Christ.
It is certainly a consolatory spectacle for Catholics to see a Roman
Pontiff, four centuries ago, condemn what Europe, with all her
civilization and refinement, condemns only at the present day. Still,
Europe only does so with difficulty; and all those who take part in
this tardy condemnation are not exempt from the suspicion of being
actuated by motives of interest. No doubt the Roman Pontiff did not
effect all the good he intended; but doctrines do not remain sterile
when they emanate from a high quarter, whence, diffusing themselves
to great distances, they descend on persons who receive them with
veneration, if it were only on account of him who teaches them. The
conquering nations were then Christians, and sincere ones; it is
therefore indubitable, that the admonitions of the Pope, transmitted by
the mouths of Bishops and other priests, must have had very salutary
effects. If, in cases like this, where we see a measure taken against
an evil, the evil nevertheless resists and continues, we imagine, by a
grievous mistake, that the measure has been vain, and that its author
has produced no effect. It is one thing to extirpate, and another
to diminish an evil; and it cannot be doubted that, if the Bulls of
the Popes had not all the effect intended, they must nevertheless
have served to diminish the evil, by improving the lot of nations
fallen under the yoke. The evil prevented and avoided is not seen;
the preservative has hindered its existence: but the existing evil is
palpable--it affects us, it excites our regret, and we often forget the
gratitude due to the hand which has preserved us from greater evils.
How often is it thus with respect to religion! She cures many things,
but she prevents still more. If she takes possession of the heart of
man, it is in order to destroy there even the very roots of a thousand
evils.
Let us imagine the Europeans of the fifteenth century invading the East
and West Indies, without any check, guided only by the inspirations of
cupidity, and by the caprices of arbitrary power, full of the pride
of conquerors, and of the contempt with which the Indians must have
inspired them, on account of the inferiority of their knowledge, and
of their backwardness in civilization and refinement: what must have
happened? If, in spite of the incessant cries of religion, in spite of
the influence which she had on laws and manners, the conquered nations
have had so much to suffer, would not the evil have been carried to an
intolerable extent, without those powerful causes which incessantly
combated, prevented or diminished it? The conquered would have been
reduced into slavery _en masse_; they would have been condemned _en
masse_ to perpetual degradation; they would have been deprived even of
the hope of one day entering on the career of civilization.
If the conduct of Europeans at that time with respect to men of
other races--if the conduct of some nations of our own days is to be
deplored, it cannot be said at least that the Catholic religion has not
opposed such excesses with all her strength; it cannot be said that the
Head of the Church has ever allowed these evils to pass without raising
his voice to recall to mind the rights of men, to stigmatize injustice,
to excite abhorrence of cruelty, and energetically to plead the cause
of humanity, without distinction of races, climates, or colors.
Whence does Europe derive this lofty idea and this generous feeling,
which urge her to declare herself so strongly against the traffic in
men, and to demand the complete abolition of slavery in the colonies?
When posterity shall call to mind these glorious facts; when it shall
adopt them as marking a new era in the annals of civilization; when,
studying and analyzing the causes which have conducted European
legislation and manners to so high a pitch, and, passing over temporary
and unimportant motives, insignificant circumstances, and secondary
agents, it shall seek for the vital principle which impelled European
civilization towards so glorious an end, it will find that this
principle was Christianity; and if, desiring to fathom the question
more and more, it should inquire whether this was Christianity, under
a vague and general form--Christianity without authority--Christianity
without Catholicity--the answer of history will be this: Catholicity,
exclusively prevailing in Europe, abolished slavery among the European
races; she introduced the principle of the abolition of slavery into
European civilization, by showing practically, and in opposition to the
opinion of antiquity, that slavery was not necessary for society; and
she made it understood, that the sacred work of enfranchisement was the
foundation of all great and life-giving civilization. She has therefore
inoculated European civilization with the principle of the abolition
of slavery; it is owing to her that, wherever this civilization has
come into contact with slavery, it has been profoundly disturbed--an
evident proof that there were at the bottom two opposite elements, two
contending principles, which were compelled to struggle incessantly,
until the more powerful, noble, and fruitful prevailing, and reducing
the other under the yoke, in the end annihilated it. I will say
more: by searching whether facts really confirm this influence of
Catholicity, not only in all that concerns the civilization of Europe,
but also in the countries which Europeans have conquered two centuries
ago, in the East and West, we shall meet with Catholic Bishops and
priests working without intermission in improving the lot of colonial
slaves; we shall call to mind what is due to the Catholic missions; we
shall read and understand the apostolical letters of Pius II., issued
in 1482, and mentioned above; those of Paul III., in 1537; those of
Urban VIII., in 1639; those of Benedict XIV., in 1741; and those of
Gregory XVI., in 1839.
In these letters there is taught and defined all that has been or
can be said on this point in favor of humanity. We shall there find
blamed, condemned, and punished, all that European civilization has
at length resolved to condemn and punish; and when calling to mind
also that it was Pius VII., who, at the beginning of this century,
_zealously interposed his good offices with men in power for the
complete abolition of slavery among Christians_, we shall not be
able to avoid acknowledging and confessing that Catholicity has had
the principal share in this great work. It is she indeed who has
laid down the principle on which the work rests, who has established
the precedents which guide it, who has constantly proclaimed the
principles which have suggested it and has constantly condemned those
who have opposed it; it is she, in fine, who at all times has declared
open war against cruelty and cupidity,--the support and perpetual
motives for injustice and inhumanity. Let us hear the testimony of a
celebrated Protestant author, Robertson, the historian of America:
"From the time that ecclesiastics were sent as instructors into
America, they perceived that the rigor with which their countrymen
treated the natives rendered their ministry altogether fruitless. The
missionaries, in conformity with the mild spirit of that religion
which they were employed to publish, soon remonstrated against the
maxims of the planters with respect to the Americans, and condemned
the _repartimientos_, or distributions, by which they were given
up as slaves to their conquerors, as no less contrary to natural
justice and the precepts of Christianity, than to sound policy. The
Dominicans, to whom the instruction of the Americans was originally
committed, were the most vehement in attacking the _repartimientos_.
In the year 1511, Motesino, one of their most eminent preachers,
inveighed against this practice in the great church at St. Domingo,
with all the impetuosity of his natural eloquence. Don Diego Columbus,
the principal officers of the colony, and all the laymen who had
been his hearers, complained of the monk to his superiors; but they,
instead of condemning, applauded his doctrine, as equally pious and
seasonable. The Franciscans, influenced by the spirit of opposition
and rivalship which subsists between the two orders, discovered some
inclination to take part with the laity, and to espouse the defence of
the _repartimientos_. But as they could not with decency give their
approbation to a system of oppression so repugnant to the spirit of
religion, they endeavored to palliate what they could not justify,
and alleged in excuse for the conduct of their countrymen, that it
was impossible to carry on any improvement in the colony, unless the
Spaniards possessed such dominion over the natives, that they could
compel them to labor. The Dominicans, regardless of such political and
interested considerations, would not relax in any degree the rigor
of their sentiments, and even refused to absolve, or admit to the
sacrament, such of their countrymen as continued to hold the natives
in servitude. Both parties applied to the king for his decision in a
matter of such importance. Ferdinand empowered a committee of his Privy
Council, assisted by some of the most eminent civilians and divines in
Spain, to hear the deputies sent from Hispaniola in support of their
respective opinions. After a long discussion, the speculative point
in controversy was determined in favor of the Dominicans; the Indians
were declared to be a free people, entitled to all the natural rights
of man; but notwithstanding this decision, the _repartimientos_ were
continued upon their ancient footing. As this determination admitted
the principle upon which the Dominicans founded their opinion, they
renewed their efforts to obtain relief for the Indians with additional
boldness and zeal. At length, in order to quiet the colony, which was
alarmed by their remonstrances and censures, Ferdinand issued a decree
of his Privy Council (1513), declaring that after mature consideration
of the apostolic Bull, and other titles by which the Crown of Castile
claimed a right to its possessions, in the new world, the servitude of
the Indians was warranted both by the laws of God and man; that unless
they were subjected to the dominion of the Spaniards, and compelled
to reside under their inspection, it would be impossible to reclaim
them from idolatry, or to instruct them in the Christian faith; that
no further scruple ought to be entertained concerning the lawfulness
of the _repartimientos_, as the King and Council were willing to take
the charge of that upon their own consciences; and that therefore the
Dominicans, and monks of other religious orders, should abstain for
the future from those invectives which, from an excess of charitable
but ill-informed zeal, they had uttered against the practice. That
his intention of adhering to this decree might be fully understood,
Ferdinand conferred new grants of Indians upon several of his
courtiers. But in order that he might not seem altogether inattentive
to the rights of humanity, he published an edict in which he endeavored
to provide for the mild treatment of the Indians under the yoke to
which he subjected them; he regulated the nature of the work which they
should be required to perform; he prescribed the mode in which they
should be clothed and fed, and gave directions with respect to their
instruction in the principles of Christianity. But the Dominicans, who,
from their experience of what had passed, judged concerning the future,
soon perceived the inefficacy of those provisions, and foretold that,
as long as it was the interest of individuals to treat the Indians
with rigor, no public regulations would render their servitude mild
or tolerable. They considered it as vain to waste their own time and
strength in attempting to communicate the sublime truths to men whose
spirits were broken, and their faculties impaired by oppression. Some
of them, in despair, requested the permission of their superiors to
remove to the continent, and pursue the object of their mission among
such of the natives as were not hitherto corrupted by the example of
the Spaniards, or alienated by their cruelty from the Christian faith.
Such as remained in Hispaniola continued to remonstrate, with decent
firmness, against the servitude of the Indians.
"The violent operations of Albuquerque, the new distributor of
the Indians, revived the zeal of the Dominicans against the
_repartimientos_, and called forth an advocate for that oppressed
people who possessed all the courage, the talents, and the activity
requisite in supporting such a desperate cause. This was Bartholomew
de las Casas, a native of Seville, and one of the clergymen sent out
with Columbus in his second voyage to Hispaniola, in order to settle in
that Island. He early adopted the opinion prevalent among ecclesiastics
with respect to the unlawfulness of reducing the natives to servitude;
and that he might demonstrate the sincerity of his conviction, he
relinquished all the Indians who had fallen to his share in the
division of the inhabitants among their conquerors, declaring that he
should ever bewail his own misfortune and guilt, in having exercised
for a moment this impious dominion over his fellow-creatures. From
that time he became the avowed patron of the Indians; and by his bold
interpositions in their behalf, as well as by the respect due to his
abilities and character, he had often the merit of setting some bounds
to the excesses of his countrymen." (_History of America_, book 3.)
It would be too long to relate here the energetic efforts of De las
Casas in favor of the colonies of the new world; all know them--all
must know that, filled with zeal for the liberty of the Indians, he
conceived and undertook an attempt at civilization analogous to that
which was realized later, to the immortal honor of the Catholic clergy,
in Paraguay. If the efforts of De las Casas had not all the success
that might naturally have been expected, we find the cause of this
in the thousand passions with which history makes us acquainted, and
perhaps also in the impetuosity of this man, whose sublime zeal was not
always accompanied by the consummate prudence which the Church displays.
However this may be, Catholicity has completely accomplished her
mission of peace and love; without injustice or catastrophe, she
has broken the chains under which a large portion of the human
race groaned; and if it had been given her to prevail for some
time in Asia and Africa, she would have achieved their destruction
in the four quarters of the globe, by banishing the degradations
and the abominations introduced and established in those countries
by Mahometanism and idolatry. It is melancholy, no doubt, that
Christianity has not yet exercised over these latter countries all the
influence which would have been necessary to ameliorate the social
and political condition of those nations, by changing their ideas and
manners. But if we seek for the causes of this lamentable delay, we
certainly shall not find them in the conduct of Catholicity. This is
not the place to point out these causes; nevertheless, while reserving
the analysis and complete examination of this matter for another part
of the work, I will make the remark _en passant_, that Protestantism
may justly criminate itself for the obstacles which, during three
centuries, it has opposed to the universality and efficacy of the
Christian influence on infidel nations. These few words will suffice
here; we shall return to this important subject later.
NOTE 16, p. 131.
We can scarcely believe how far the ideas of the ancients went astray
with regard to the respect which is due to man. Can it be believed
that they went so far, as to regard the lives of all who could not be
useful to society as of no value? and yet nothing is more certain.
We might lament that this or that city had adopted a barbarous law;
that a ferocious custom was introduced among a people by the effect of
particular circumstances; yet as long as philosophy protested against
such attempts, human reason would have been unstained, and could not
have been accused without injustice of taking part in infamous attempts
at abortion or infanticide. But when we find crime defended and taught
by the most important philosophers of antiquity; when we see it triumph
in the minds of the most illustrious men, who, with fearful calmness
and serenity, prescribe the atrocities which we have named, we are
confounded, and our blood runs cold; we would fain shut our eyes, not
to see so much infamy thrown upon philosophy and human reason. Let us
hear Plato in his _Republic_, in that book in which he undertook to
collect all the theories in his opinion the most distinguished and
the best adapted to lead human society towards its _beau ideal_. This
is his scandalous language: "Oportet profecto secundum ea quæ supra
concessimus, optimos viros mulieribus optimis ut plurimum congredi:
deterrimos autem contra, deterrimis. Et illorem quidem prolem nutrire,
horum minime, si armentum excellentissimum sit futurum. Et hæc omnia
dum agantur, ab omnibus præterquam a principibus ignorari, si modo
armentum custodum debeat seditione carere." "Prope admodum;" "Very
good," replies another speaker. (_Plat. Rep._ l. v.)
Behold, then, the human race reduced to the condition of mere
brutes; in truth, the philosopher had reason to use the word flock
(_armentum_)! There is this difference, however, that magistrates
imbued with such feelings must have been more harsh towards their
subjects than a shepherd towards his flock. If the shepherd finds among
the lambs which have just been born a weak and lame one, he does not
kill it or allow it to die of hunger; he carries it to the sheep who
ought to nourish it, he caresses it to stop its cries.
But perhaps the expressions which we have just quoted escaped the
philosopher in a moment of inadvertence; perhaps the idea which they
reveal was only one of those sinister inspirations which glide into the
mind of a man, and pass away without leaving any more impression than
is made by a reptile moving through the grass. We wish it were so, for
the fame of Plato; but unhappily he returns to it so often, and insists
on the point with so systematic a coldness, that no means of justifying
him are left. "With respect," he says lower down, "to the children of
citizens of inferior rank, and even those of other citizens, if they
are born deformed, the magistrates shall hide them, as is proper,
in some secure place, which it shall be forbidden to reveal." "Yes,"
replies one of the interlocutors; "if we desire to preserve the race of
warriors in its purity."
Plato also lays down various rules with respect to the relations
of the two sexes; he speaks of the case in which the man and woman
shall have reached an advanced age: "Quando igitur jam mulieres et
viri ætatem generationi aptam egressi fuerint, licere viris dicemus,
cuicumque voluerint, præterquam filiæ atque matri et filiarum natis
matrisve majoribus: licere et mulieribus cuilibet, præterquam filio
atque patri, ac superioribus et inferioribus eorumdem. Cum vero hæc
omnia mandaverimus, interdicemus fœtum talem (si contigeret) edi et
in lucem produci. Si quid autem matrem parere coegerit, ita exponere
præcipiemus, quasi ei nulla nutritio sit."
Plato seems to have been very well pleased with his doctrine; for, in
the very book in which he writes what we have just seen, he lays down
the famous maxim, that the evils of states will never be remedied, that
societies will never be well governed, until philosophers shall become
kings, or kings become philosophers. God preserve us from seeing on the
throne a philosophy such as his! Moreover, his wish for the reign of
philosophy has been realized in modern times. What do I say? It has had
more than empire; it has been deified, and divine honors have been paid
to it in public temples. I do not believe, however, that the happy days
of the worship of reason are now much regretted.
The horrible doctrine which we have just seen in Plato was transmitted
with fidelity to future schools. Aristotle, who on so many points took
the liberty of departing from the doctrines of his master, did not
think of correcting those which regard abortion and infanticide. In
his _Politics_ he teaches the same crimes with the same calmness as
Plato: "In order," he says, "to avoid nourishing weak or lame children,
the law should direct them to be exposed or made away with." "Propter
multitudinem autem liberorum, ne plures sint quam expediat, si gentium
instituta et leges vetent procreata exponi, definitum esse oportet
procreandorum liberorum numerum. Quod si quibus inter se copulatis et
congressis, plures liberi, quam definitum sit, nascantur, priusquam
sensus et vita inseratur, abortus est fœtui inferendus." (_Polit._ l.
vii. c. 16.)
It will be seen how much reason I had to say that man, _as man_, was
esteemed as nothing among the ancients; that society entirely absorbed
him; that it claimed unjust rights over him, and regarded him as an
instrument to be used when of service, and which it had a right to
destroy.
We observe in the writings of the ancient philosophers, that they make
of society a kind of _whole_, consisting of individuals, as the mass
of iron consists of the atoms that compose it; they make of it a sort
of unity, to which all must be sacrificed; they have no consideration
for the sphere of individual liberty; they do not appear to dream
that the object of society is the good, the happiness of individuals
and families. According to them, this unity is the principal good,
with which nothing else can be compared; the greatest evil that can
happen is, that this unity should be broken--an evil which must be
avoided by all imaginable means. "Is not the worst evil of a state,"
says Plato, "that which divides it, and _makes many out of one_? and
is not the greatest excellence of a state, that which binds all its
parts together, and makes it _one_?" Relying on this principle, and
pursuing the development of his theory, he takes individuals and
families, and kneads them, as it were, in order to form them into ONE
compact whole. Thus, besides education and life in common, he wishes
also to have women and children in common; he considers it injurious
that there should be personal enjoyments or sufferings; he desires
that all should be common and social; he allows individuals to live,
think, feel, and act only as parts of a great whole. If you read his
_Republic_ with attention, and particularly the fifth book, you will
see that the prevailing idea of this philosopher is what we have just
explained. Let us hear Aristotle on the same point: "As the object of
society," he says, "is _one_, it is clear that the education of all
its members ought necessarily to be one and identical. Education ought
to be public, and not private; as things now are, each one takes care
of his children as he thinks proper, and teaches them as he pleases.
Each citizen is a particle of society, and the care to be given to
a particle ought naturally to extend to what the whole requires."
(_Polit._ l. viii. c. 1.) In order to explain to us what he means by
this common education, he concludes by quoting with honor the education
which was given at Sparta, which every one knows consisted in stifling
all feelings except a ferocious patriotism, the traits of which still
make us shudder.
With our ideas and customs, we do not know how to confine ourselves
to considering society in this way. Individuals among us are attached
to the social body, forming a part of it, but without losing their
own sphere--that of the family; and they preserve around them a vast
career, where they are allowed to exert themselves, without coming
into collision with the colossus of society. Nevertheless, patriotism
exists; but it is no longer a blind instinctive passion, urging man
on to the sacrifice, like a victim, with bandaged eyes, but it is no
reasonable, noble, and exalted feeling, which forms heroes like those
of Lepanto and Baylen; which converts peaceful citizens, like those
of Gyronna and Saragossa, into lions; which, as by an electric spark,
makes a whole people rise on a sudden without arms, and brave death
from the artillery of a numerous and disciplined army: such was Madrid,
following the sublime _Mourons_ of Daoiz and of Velarda.
I have already hinted, in the text, that society among the ancients
claimed the right of interfering in all that regards individuals.
I will add, that the thing went to a ridiculous extent. Who would
imagine that the law ought to interfere in the food of a woman who
was _enceinte_, or in the exercise which she should take every day?
This is what Aristotle gravely says: "It is necessary that women who
are _enceinte_ should take particular care of their bodies; that
they should avoid indulgence in luxury, and using food which is too
light and weak. The legislator easily attains his end by prescribing
and ordering them a daily walk, in order to go to honor and venerate
the gods, to whom it has been confided by fate to watch over the
formation of beings. Atque hoc facile assequitur scriptor legum, si
eis iter aliquod quotidianum ad cultum venerationemque deorum eorum,
quibus sorte obtigit, ut præsint gignendis animantibus, injunxerit ac
mandaverit." (_Polit._ l. vii. c. 16.)
The action of laws extended to every thing; it seems that, in certain
cases, even the tears of children could not escape this severity.
"Those," says Aristotle, "who, by means of laws, forbid children to cry
and weep, are wrong; cries and tears serve as exercise for children,
and assist them in growing; they are an effort of nature, which
relieves and invigorates those who are in pain." (_Polit._ l. vii. c.
17.)
These doctrines of the ancients--this manner of considering the
relations of individuals with society--very well explain how castes
and slavery could be regarded as natural among them. Who can be
astonished at seeing whole races deprived of liberty, or regarded as
incapable of partaking of the rights of other superior classes, when
we see generations of innocent beings condemned to death, and these
conscientious philosophers not having the slightest scruple with
respect to the legitimacy of so inhuman an act? It was not that these
philosophers had not happiness in view as the object of society; but
they had monstrous ideas with respect to the means of obtaining that
happiness.
NOTE 17, p. 146.
The reader will easily dispense with my entering into details on the
abject and shameful condition of women among the ancients, and in which
they still are among the moderns where Christianity does not prevail;
moreover, my pen would be checked every moment by strict laws of
modesty, if I were to attempt to represent the characteristic features
of this wretched picture. The _inversion_ of ideas was such, that we
hear men the most renowned for their gravity and moderation rave in
the most incredible manner on this point. We will lay aside hundreds
of examples which it would be easy to adduce; but who is ignorant of
the scandalous advice of the _sage_ Solon, with respect to the lending
of women for the purpose of improving the race? Who has not blushed to
read what the _divine_ Plato, in his _Republic_, says of the propriety
and manner of making women share in the public games? Let us throw
a veil over recollections so dishonourable to human wisdom. When
the chief legislators and sages so far forgot the first elements of
morality, and the most ordinary inspirations of nature, what must have
been the case with the vulgar? How fearfully true those words of the
sacred text which represent to us the nations deprived of the light of
Christianity as sitting _in darkness and in the shadow of death!_
There is nothing more fatal to woman, nothing more apt to degrade
her, than that which is injurious to modesty; and yet we see that
the unlimited power granted to man over woman contributed to this
degradation, and reduced her, among certain nations, to be nothing but
a slave. Losing sight of the manners of other nations, let us consider
those of the Romans for a moment. Among them the formula, _ubi tu
Cayus ego Caya_, seemed to indicate a subjection so slight, that it
might almost be called an equality; but in order to appreciate this
equality, it is enough to recollect that, at Rome, a husband could
put his wife to death by his own authority, and that not only in the
case of adultery, but for offences infinitely less serious. In the
time of Romulus, Egnacius Menecius was acquitted of a similar crime,
although his wife had done nothing more than drink wine from a cask.
These traits describe a nation, whatever importance you may besides
think proper to attach to the solicitude of the Romans to prevent their
matrons from becoming addicted to wine. When Cato directed an embrace,
as a proof of affection, among relations, for the purpose, as Pliny
relates, of ascertaining whether the women smelt of wine, _an temetum
olerent_, it is true he showed his strictness; but it was an unworthy
outrage offered to the honor of the women themselves whose virtue it
pretended to preserve. There are some remedies worse than the disease.
NOTE 18, p. 157.
The antichristian philosophy must have had considerable influence on
the desire to find among the barbarians the origin of the elevation
of the female character in Europe, and of some other principles of
our civilization. Indeed as soon as you discover the source of these
admirable qualities in the forests of Germany, Christianity is stripped
of a portion of its honors; and what was its own and peculiar glory
is divided among many. I will not deny that the Germans of Tacitus
are sufficiently poetical; but it is difficult to believe that the
real Germans were so to any extent. Some passages inserted in the text
add great force to our conjecture; but what appears to me eminently
calculated to dissipate all these illusions is, the history of the
invasion by the barbarians, above all that which has been written by
eye-witnesses. The picture, far from continuing poetical, then becomes
disgusting in the extreme. This interminable succession of nations
passes before the eyes of the reader, like an alarming vision in an
evil dream; and certainly the first idea which occurs to us at the
sight of this picture is, not to seek for any of the qualities of
modern civilization in these invading hordes; but the great difficulty
is, to know how this chaos has been reduced to order, and how it has
been possible to produce from such barbarism the noblest and most
brilliant civilization that has ever been seen on earth. Tacitus
appears to be an enthusiast; but Sidonius, who wrote at no great
distance from the barbarians, who saw them, and suffered from meeting
them, does not partake of this enthusiasm. "I find myself," he said,
"among long-haired nations, compelled to hear the German language,
and to applaud, at whatever cost, the song of the drunken Burgundian,
with hair plastered with rancid grease. _Happy your eyes who do not
see them; happy your ears who do not hear them?_" If space permitted,
it would be easy for me to accumulate a thousand passages which would
evidently show what the barbarians were, and what could be expected
from them in all respects. It is as clear as the light of day, that it
was the design of Providence to employ these nations to destroy the
Roman empire, and change the face of the world. The invaders seem to
have had a feeling of their terrible mission. They march, they advance,
they know not whither they go; but they know well that they go to
destroy. Attila called himself the scourge of God. The same barbarian
himself defined his formidable duty in these words: "_The star falls,
the sea is moved; I am the hammer of the earth._ Where my horse passes,
the grass never grows." Alaric, marching towards the capital of the
world, said: "_I cannot stop; there is some one urges me, who excites
me to sack Rome._" Genseric prepares a naval expedition; his troops
are on board, he himself embarks: no one knows the point towards which
he will direct his sails. The pilot approaches the barbarian, and asks
him; "_My lord, against what nations will you wage war?_" "_Against
those who have provoked the anger of God_," replies Genseric.
If Christianity, in the midst of this catastrophe, had not existed in
Europe, civilization would have been lost and annihilated, perhaps
forever. But a religion of light and love was sure to triumph over
ignorance and violence. Even during the times of the calamities of
the invasion, that religion prevented many disasters, owing to the
ascendency which it began to exercise over the barbarians; the most
critical moment being past, the conquerors having become in some degree
settled, she immediately employed a system so vast, so efficacious, so
decisive, that the conquerors found themselves conquered, not by arms,
but by charity. It was not in the power of the Church to prevent the
invasion; God had decreed it, and His decree must be accomplished. Thus
the pious monk who went to meet Alaric approaching Rome, could not stop
him on his march, because the barbarian answered him, that he could not
stop,--that there was some one who urged him on, and that he advanced
against his own will. But the Church awaited the barbarians after the
conquest, knowing that Providence would not abandon His own work, that
the hope of the future lot of nations was left in the hands of the
spouse of Jesus Christ; on this account does Alaric advance on Rome,
sack, and destroy it; but on a sudden, finding himself in presence of
religion, he stops, becomes mollified, and appoints the Churches of
St. Peter and St. Paul as places of refuge. A remarkable fact, and an
admirable symbol of the Christian religion preserving the universe from
total ruin.
NOTE 19, p. 165.
The great benefit conferred on modern society by the formation of
a pure and correct public conscience, would acquire extraordinary
value in our eyes, if we compared our moral ideas with those of all
other nations, ancient and modern; the result of such an examination
would be, to show in how lamentable a manner good principles become
corrupted, when they are confided to the reason of man. I will content
myself, however, with a few words on the ancients, in order to show how
correct I was in saying that our manners, however corrupt they may be,
would have appeared a model of morality and dignity to the heathens.
The temples consecrated to Venus in Babylon and Corinth are connected
with abominations such as to be even incomprehensible. Deified passion
required sacrifices worthy of it; a divinity without modesty required
the sacrifice of modesty; and the sacred name of Temple was applied
to asylums of the most unbridled licentiousness. There was not a veil
even for the greatest crimes. It is known how the daughters of Chypre
gained a dowry for their marriage; all have heard of the mysteries of
Adonis, Priapus, and other impure divinities. There are vices which,
as it were, want a name among the moderns; or if they have one, it is
accompanied by the recollection of a terrible chastisement inflicted on
some criminal cities. In reading the histories of antiquity descriptive
of the manners of their times, the book falls from our hands. On this
subject we must be content with these few hints, calculated to awaken
in the minds of our readers the recollection of what has a thousand
times excited their indignation in reading the history and studying the
literature of pagan antiquity. The author is compelled to be satisfied
with a recollection: he abstains from a description.
NOTE 20, p. 171.
It is now so common to exalt beyond measure the power of ideas, that
some persons will perhaps consider exaggerated what I have said with
respect to their want of power, not only to influence society, but even
to preserve themselves, while, remaining in the mere sphere of ideas,
they do not become realized in institutions, which are their organ, and
at the same time their rampart and defence.
I am very far, as I have clearly stated in the text, from denying or
calling in question what is called the power of ideas: I only mean to
show that, alone and by themselves, ideas have little power; and that
science, properly so called, as far as the organization of society is
concerned, is a much less important thing than is generally supposed.
This doctrine has an intimate connection with the system followed by
the Catholic Church, which, while constantly endeavoring to develop
the human mind by means of the propagation of the sciences, has
nevertheless assigned to them a secondary part in the regulation of
society. While religion has never been opposed to true science, never,
on the other hand, has she ceased to show a certain degree of mistrust
with respect to all that was the exclusive production of human thought;
and observe that this is one of the chief differences between religion
and the philosophy of the last age; or, we should rather say, it was
the cause of their violent antipathy. Religion did not condemn science;
on the contrary, she loved, protected, and encouraged it; but at the
same time she marked out its limits, warned it that it was blind on
some points, announced to it that it would be powerless in some of its
labors, and that in others its action would be destructive and fatal.
Philosophy, on the contrary, loudly proclaimed the sovereignty of
science, declared it to be all-powerful, and deified it; it attributed
to it strength and courage to change the face of the world, and wisdom
and foresight enough to work this change for the good of humanity. This
pride of knowledge, this deification of thought, is, if you observe
closely, the foundation of Protestant doctrine. All authority being
taken away, reason is the only competent judge, the intellect receives
directly and immediately from God all the light which is necessary.
This is the fundamental doctrine of Protestantism, that is to say, the
pride of the mind.
If we closely observe, even the triumph of revolutions has in no degree
nullified the wise anticipations of religion; and knowledge, properly
so called, instead of gaining any credit from this triumph, has
entirely lost what it had: there remains nothing of the revolutionary
knowledge; what remains is the effects of the revolution, the interests
created by it, the institutions which have arisen from those interests,
and which, since that time, have sought in the department of science
itself our principles to support them,--principles altogether different
from those which had been proclaimed in the beginning.
I have said that every idea has need of being realized in an
institution; this is so true, that revolutions themselves, warned
by the instinct which leads them to preserve, with more or less
integrity, the principles whence they have arisen, tend from the first
to create those institutions in which the revolutionary doctrines may
be perpetuated, or to constitute successors to represent them when
they shall have disappeared from the schools. This may lead to many
reflections on the origin and present condition of several forms of
governments in different countries of Europe.
When speaking of the rapidity with which scientific theories succeed
each other, when pointing out the immense development which the press
has given to the field of discussion, I have shown that this was not an
infallible sign of scientific progress, still less a guarantee for the
fertility of human thought in realizing great things in the material
and social order. I have said that grand conceptions proceed rather
from _intuition_ than from _discourses_; and on this subject I have
recalled to mind historical events and personages which place this
matter beyond a doubt. In support of this assertion, ideology might
have furnished us with abundant proofs, if it were necessary to have
recourse to science itself to prove its own sterility. But mere good
sense, taught by the lessons of experience daily, is enough to convince
us that the men who are the most able in theory are, often enough, not
only mediocre, but even weak in the exercise of authority. With regard
to the hints which I have thrown out with respect to "intuition" and
"discourses," I leave them to the judgment of any one who has applied
to the study of the human mind. I am confident that the opinion of
those who have reflected will not differ from my own.
NOTE 21, p. 175.
I have attributed to Christianity the gentleness of manners which
Europe now enjoys. Yet, in spite of the decline of religious belief
in the last century, this gentleness of manners, instead of being
destroyed, has only been raised to a higher degree. This contrast, the
effect of which, at first sight, is to destroy what I have established,
requires some explanation. First of all, we must recollect the
distinction pointed out in the text between effeminacy and gentleness
of manners. The first is a fault, the second a valuable quality; the
first emanates from enervation of the mind and weakening of the body;
the second is owing to the preponderance of reason, the empire of the
mind over the body, the triumph of justice over force, of right over
might. There is a large portion of real gentleness in manners at the
present day, but luxury has also a considerable part therein. This
luxury of manners has certainly not arisen from religion, but from
infidelity; the latter, never extending its view beyond the present
life, causes the lofty destinies, and even the very existence of the
soul, to be forgotten, puts egotism upon the throne, constantly excites
and keeps alive the love of pleasure, and makes man the vile slave of
his passions. On the contrary, at the first sight, we perceive that
our manners owe all their gentleness to Christianity; all the ideas,
all the feelings, on which this gentleness is founded, bear the mark
of Christianity. The dignity of man, his rights, the obligation of
treating him with the respect which is due to him, and of appealing to
his mind by reason rather than to his body by violence, the necessity
imposed on every one of keeping within the line of his duty, of
respecting the property and the persons of others,--all this body of
principles, to which real gentleness of manners is owing, is due, in
Europe, to the influence of Christianity, which, after a struggle of
many centuries against the barbarism and ferocity of invading nations,
succeeded in destroying the system of violence which these same nations
had made general.
As philosophy has taken care to change the ancient names consecrated
by religion, and authorized by the usage of a succession of ages,
it happens that some ideas, although the produce of Christianity,
are scarcely acknowledged as such, only because they are disguised
under a worldly dress. Who does not know that mutual love among men
and fraternal charity are ideas entirely due to Christianity? Who
does not know that pagan antiquity did not acknowledge them, that
it even despised them? And nevertheless, this affection, which was
formerly called _charity_, because charity was the virtue from which
it took its legitimate origin, has constantly taken care to assume
other names, as if it were ashamed to be seen in public with any
appearance of religion. The mania for attacking the Christian religion
being passed, it is openly confessed that the principle of universal
charity is owing to her; but language remains infected with Voltairian
philosophy even since the discredit into which that philosophy has
fallen. Whence it follows, that we very often do not appreciate as we
ought the influence of Christianity on the society which surrounds us,
and that we attribute to other ideas and other causes the phenomena
which are evidently owing to religion. Society at present, in spite of
all its indifference, is more indebted to religion than is commonly
supposed; it resembles those men, who, born of an illustrious family,
in which good principles and a careful education are transmitted as an
inheritance from generation to generation, preserve in their manners
and behavior, even in the midst of their disorders, their crimes, and I
will even venture to say, their degradation, some traits which denote
their noble origin.
NOTE 22, p. 183.
A few regulations of Councils, quoted in the text, are sufficient to
give an idea of the system pursued by the Church for the purpose of
reforming and softening manners. It may be remarked that, on previous
occasions during this work, I have a strong inclination to call to mind
monuments of this kind; I will state here that I have two reasons for
doing this: 1. When having to compare Protestantism with Catholicity,
I believe that the best means of representing the real spirit of the
latter is, to show it at work; this is done when we bring to light the
measures which were adopted, according to different circumstances,
by Popes and Councils. 2. Considering the direction which historical
studies take in Europe, and the taste, which is daily becoming more
general, not for histories, but for historical documents, it is proper
always to bear in mind that the proceedings of Councils are of the
highest importance, not only in historical and ecclesiastical matters,
but also in political and social ones; so that to pay no attention to
the data which are found in the records of Councils, is monstrously to
mutilate, or rather wholly to destroy, the history of Europe.
On this account it is very useful, and even necessary in many things,
to consult these records, although it may be painful to our indolence,
on account of their enormous extent and the ennui of finding many
things devoid of interest for our times. The sciences, above all those
which have society for their object, lead to satisfactory results only
by means of painful labors. What is useful is frequently mixed and
confounded with what is not. The most valuable things are sometimes
found by the side of repulsive objects; but in nature, do we find gold
without having removed rude masses of earth?
Those who have attempted to find the germ of the precious qualities
of European civilization among the barbarians of the north, should
undoubtedly have attributed the gentleness of our manners to the same
barbarians; they would have had in support of this paradox a fact
certainly more specious than that which they have relied on to give
the honor of elevating European women to the Germans. I allude to the
well-known custom of avoiding the infliction of corporal punishments,
and of chastising the gravest offences by fines only. Nothing is more
likely to make us believe that these nations were happily inclined to
gentleness of manners, since, in the midst of their barbarism, they
used the right of punishment with a moderation which is not found even
among the most civilized and refined nations. If we regard the thing
in this point of view, it seems as if the influence of Christianity on
the barbarians had the effect of rendering their manners more harsh
instead of more gentle; indeed, after Christianity was introduced, the
infliction of corporal punishments became general, and even that of
death was not excluded.
But when we attentively consider this peculiarity of the criminal code
of the barbarians, we shall see that, far from showing the advancement
of their civilization and the gentleness of their manners, it is, on
the contrary, the most evident proof that they were behindhand; it is
the strongest index of the harshness and barbarism which reigned among
them. In the first place, inasmuch as crimes among them were punished
by means of fines, or, as it was called, by _composition_, it is clear
that the law paid much more attention to _repairing an injury_ than to
_punishing a crime_; a circumstance which clearly shows us how little
they thought about the morality of the action, as they attended not
so much to the action itself, as to the wrong which it inflicted.
Therefore this was not an element of civilization but of barbarism;
this tended to nothing less than the banishment of morality from the
world. The Church combated this principle, as fatal in public as in
private affairs; she introduced into criminal legislation a new set of
ideas, which completely changed its spirit. On this point M. Guizot has
done full justice to the Catholic Church. I am delighted to acknowledge
and to insert this homage here by transcribing his own words. After
having pointed out the difference which existed between the laws of
the Visigoths, derived in great part from the Councils of Toledo, and
the other barbarian laws, M. Guizot signalizes the immense superiority
of the ideas of the Church in matters of legislation, of justice, and
in all that concerns the search after truth and the lot of men; he
adds: "In criminal matters, the relation of crimes to punishments is
fixed (in the laws of the Visigoths) according to sufficiently just,
philosophical, and moral notions. We there perceive the efforts of an
enlightened legislator, who contends against the violence and rashness
of barbarian manners. The chapter _De cæde et morte hominum_, compared
with the corresponding laws of other nations, is a very remarkable
example of this. Elsewhere, it is almost exclusively the injury
which seems to constitute the crime, and the punishment is sought in
that material reparation which is the result of composition. Here,
the crime is referred to its real and moral element, the intention.
The different shades of criminality, absolutely voluntary homicide,
homicide by inadvertence, provoked homicide, homicide with or without
premeditation, are distinguished and defined almost as well as in our
own codes, and the punishments vary in a proportion equally just. The
justice of the legislator has gone still further. He has attempted,
if not to abolish, at least to diminish the diversity of legal value
established among men by the other barbarian laws. The only distinction
which it preserves is that of freeman and slave. With respect to
freeman, the punishment varies neither with the origin nor the rank
of the deceased, but only according to the different degrees of the
culpability of the murderer. With regard to slaves, not venturing
completely to withdraw from the masters the right of life and death, it
has been attempted at least to restrain it by subjecting it to a public
and regular procedure. The text of the law deserves to be cited.
"'If no one guilty of, or an accomplice in, a crime ought to remain
unpunished, with how much more reason ought he to be condemned who
has wickedly and rashly committed a homicide! Thus, as masters, in
their pride, often put their slaves to death without any fault of
the latter, it is proper altogether to extirpate this license, and
to ordain that the present law shall be forever observed by all. No
master or mistress shall put to death, without public trial, any of
their slaves, male or female, or any person dependent on them. If a
slave or any other servant shall commit a crime which may subject him
to capital punishment, his master or his accuser shall immediately
inform the judge or the count or duke of the place where the deed
has been committed. After the affair has been inquired into, if the
crime be proved, let the criminal undergo, either by the judge or his
own master, the sentence of death which he has deserved; so that,
nevertheless, if the judge be unwilling to put the accused to death,
he shall draw up in writing a capital sentence, and then it shall be
in the power of the master to put him to death or not. Indeed, if the
slave, with a fatal audacity, resisting his master, has struck, or
attempted to strike, him with a weapon, with a stone, or with any other
kind of blow, and if the master, in defending himself, has killed the
slave in his passion, the master shall be in no way subject to the
punishment of homicide. But it shall be necessary to prove that the
event took place thus, and that by the testimony or oath of the slaves,
male or female, who shall have been present, and by the oath of the
author of the deed himself. Whoever from mere malice, either by his own
hand or that of another, shall have killed his slave without public
trial, shall be marked with infamy, declared incapable of appearing as
a witness, shall be obliged to pass the rest of his life in exile and
penance, and his goods shall go to the nearest relations to whom they
are given by the law.'--For. Jud. liv. vi. tit. xv. l. 12." (_Hist.
Génér. de la Civilisation en Europe_, leçon 6.)
I have copied this passage from M. Guizot with pleasure, because I
find there a confirmation of what I have just said on the subject of
the influence of the Church in softening manners, and of what I have
before stated with respect to the great amelioration which the Church
made in the condition of slaves, by limiting the excessive power of
their masters. This truth is proved in its place by so many documents,
that it seems useless to revert to it here; it is enough now for my
purpose, to point out that M. Guizot fully allows that the Church gave
morality to the legislation of the barbarians, by making them consider
the wickedness of the crime, whereas they had previously attended only
to the injury of which it was the cause; she has thus transferred the
action from the physical to the moral order, giving to punishments
their real character, and not allowing them to remain reduced to the
level of a mere material reparation. Hence we see that the criminal
system of the barbarians, which, at the first _view_, seemed to
indicate progress in civilization, was, in reality, owing to the little
ascendency which moral principles exercised over these nations, and to
the fact, that the views of the legislator were very slightly raised
above the purely material order.
There is another observation to be made on this point, viz. that
the mildness with which crimes were punished is the best proof of
the frequency with which they were committed. When in a country
assassinations, mutilations, and other similar attempts are very
rare, they are regarded with horror; those who are guilty of them are
chastised with severity. But when crimes are very frequently committed,
they insensibly lose their enormity; not only those who commit them,
but all the world become accustomed to their hideous aspect, and the
legislator is then naturally induced to treat them with indulgence.
This is shown us by the experience of every day; and the reader will
have no difficulty in finding in society at the present time more than
one crime to which the remark which I have just made is applicable.
Among the barbarians, it was common to appeal to force, not only with
respect to property, but also to persons; wherefore it was natural
that crimes of this kind should not be regarded by them with the same
aversion, it may be said with the same horror, as among a people where
the triumph of the ideas of reason, justice, right, and law, render
it impossible to conceive even the existence of a society where each
individual should believe himself self-entitled to do justice to
himself. Thus the laws against these crimes naturally became milder,
the legislator contenting himself with repairing the injury, without
paying much attention to the culpability of the delinquent. And this
is intimately connected with what I have said above with respect to
public conscience; for the legislator is always more or less the organ
of this public conscience. Where an action, in any society whatever,
is regarded as a heinous offence, the legislator cannot decree a mild
punishment for it; on the other hand, it is not possible for him to
chastise with great severity what the society absolves or excuses. It
will sometimes happen that this proportion will be altered, that this
harmony will be destroyed; but things soon quitting the path into which
violence forced them, will not be long in returning to their ordinary
course. Manners being chaste and pure, offences against them will be
covered with abhorrence and infamy; but if morals be corrupted, the
same acts will be regarded with indifference; at the most they will be
denominated slight weaknesses. Among a people where religious ideas
exercise great influence, the violation of all that is consecrated
to God is regarded as a horrible outrage, worthy of the greatest
chastisements; among another people, where infidelity has made its
ravages, the same violation is not even placed on the list of ordinary
offences; instead of drawing on the guilty the justice of the law,
scarcely does it draw on them the slight correction of the police.
The reader will understand the appropriateness of this digression on
the criminal legislation of the barbarians, when he reflects that,
in order to examine the influence of Catholicity on the civilization
of Europe, it is indispensable to take into consideration the other
elements which have concurred in forming that civilization. Without
this, it would be impossible properly to appreciate the respective
action of each of these elements, either for good or evil; impossible
to bring to light the share which the Church can exclusively claim in
the great work of our civilization; impossible to resolve the high
question which has been raised by the partisans of Protestantism on the
subject of the assumed advantages which the religious revolution of
the sixteenth century has conferred on modern society. It is because
the barbarian nations are one of these elements, that it is so often
necessary to attend to them.
NOTE 23, p. 189.
In the middle ages, almost all the monasteries and colleges of canons
had a hospital annexed to them, not only to receive pilgrims, but also
to aid in the support and consolation of the poor and the sick. If you
desire to see the noblest symbol of religion sheltering all kinds of
misfortune, consider the houses devoted to prayer and the most sublime
virtues converted into asylums for the miserable. This was exactly what
took place at that time, when the public authority not only wanted the
strength and knowledge necessary to establish a good administration for
the relief of the unfortunate, but did not even succeed in covering
with her ægis the most sacred interests of society; this shows us
that when all was powerless, religion was still strong and fruitful;
that when all perished, religion not only preserved herself, but even
founded immortal establishments. And pay attention to what we have
so many times pointed out, viz. that the religion which worked these
prodigies was not a vague and abstract religion--the Christianity of
the Protestants; but religion with all her dogmas, her discipline, her
hierarchy, her supreme Pontiff, in a word, the Catholic Church.
They were far from thinking in ancient times that the support of the
unfortunate could be confided to the civil administration alone,
or to individual charity; it was then thought, as I have already
said, that it was a very proper thing that the hospitals should be
subjected to the Bishops; that is to say, that there should be a kind
of assimilation made between the system of public beneficence and the
hierarchy of the Church. Hence it was that, by virtue of an ancient
regulation, the hospitals were under the control of the Bishops as well
in temporals as in spirituals, whether the persons appointed to the
care of the establishments were clerical or lay, whether the hospital
had been erected by order of the Bishop or not.
This is not the place to relate the vicissitudes which this discipline
underwent, nor the different causes which produced the successive
changes; it is enough to observe, that the fundamental principle, that
is, the interference of the ecclesiastical authority in establishments
of beneficence, always remained unimpaired, and that the Church never
allowed herself to be entirely deprived of so noble a privilege. Never
did she think that it was allowable for her to regard with indifference
the abuses which were introduced on this point to the prejudice of the
unfortunate; wherefore she has reserved at least the right to remedy
the evils which might result from the wickedness or the indolence
of the administrators. The Council of Vienne ordains, that if the
administrators of a hospital, lay or clerical, become relaxed in the
exercise of their charge, proceedings shall be taken against them by
the Bishops, who shall reform and restore the hospital of their own
authority, if it has no privilege of exemption, and by delegation, if
it has one. The Council of Trent also granted to Bishops the power
of visiting the hospitals, even with the power of delegates of the
Apostolic See in the cases fixed by law; it ordains, moreover, that the
administrators, lay or clerical, shall be obliged every year to render
their accounts to the ordinary of the place, unless the contrary has
been provided in the foundation; and that if, by virtue of a particular
privilege, custom, or statute, the accounts must be presented to any
other than the ordinary, at least he shall be added to those who are
appointed to receive them.
Without paying attention to the different modifications which the laws
and customs of various countries may have introduced in this matter,
we will say that one thing remains manifest, viz. the vigilance of the
Church in all that regards beneficence; it is her constant tendency, by
virtue of her spirit and maxims, to take part in affairs of this kind,
sometimes to direct them exclusively, sometimes to remedy the evils
which may have crept in. The civil power acknowledged the motives of
this holy and charitable ambition; we see that the Emperor Justinian
does not hesitate to give public authority over the hospitals to the
Bishops, thereby conforming to the discipline of the Church and the
general good.
On this point there is a remarkable fact, which it is necessary to
mention here, in order to signalize its beneficent influence; I mean,
the regulation by which the property of hospitals was looked upon as
Church property,--a regulation which was very far from being a matter
of indifference, although at first sight it might appear so. Their
property, thereby invested with the same privileges as that of the
Church, was protected by an inviolability so much the more necessary as
the times were the more difficult, and the more abounding in outrages
and usurpations. The Church which, notwithstanding all the public
troubles, preserved great authority and a powerful ascendency over
governments and nations, had thus a simple and powerful claim to extend
her protection over the property of hospitals, and to withdraw them as
much as possible from the cupidity and the rapacity of the powerful.
And it must not be supposed that this doctrine was introduced with any
indirect design, nor that this kind of community, this assimilation
between the Church and the poor, was an unheard-of novelty; on the
contrary, this assimilation was so well suited to the common order of
things, it was so entirely founded on the relations between the Church
and the poor, that if the property of the hospitals had the privilege
of being considered as the property of the Church, that of the Church,
on the other hand, was called the property of the poor. It is in these
terms that the holy Fathers express themselves on this point: these
doctrines had so much affected the ordinary language, that when, at
a later period, the canonical question with respect to the ownership
of the goods of the Church had to be solved, there were found by the
side of those who directly attributed this property to God, to the
Pope, to the clergy, some who pointed out the poor as being the real
proprietors. It is true that this opinion was not the most conformable
to the principles of law; but the mere fact of its appearing on the
field of controversy is a matter for grave consideration.
NOTE 24, p. 196.
A few reflections, in the form of a note, on a certain maxim of
toleration professed by a philosopher of the last century, Rousseau,
would not be out of place here; but the analogy of the following
chapter with that which we have just finished induces us to reserve
them for note 25. The considerations to which the opinion of Rousseau
will lead, apply to the question of toleration in religious matters, as
well as to the right of coercion exercised by the civil and political
power; I therefore beg my reader to reserve for the following note the
attention which he might be willing to afford me now.
NOTE 25, p. 203.
For the purpose of clearing up ideas on toleration as far as lay
in my power, I have presented this matter in a point of view but
little known; in order to throw still more light upon it, I will say
a few words on religious and civil intolerance,--things which are
entirely different, although Rousseau absolutely affirms the contrary.
Religious or theological intolerance consists in the conviction,
that the only true religion is the Catholic,--a conviction common to
all Catholics. Civil intolerance consists in not allowing in society
any other religions than the Catholic. These two definitions are
sufficient to make every man of common sense understand that the two
kinds of intolerance are not inseparable; indeed, we may very easily
conceive that men firmly convinced of the truth of Catholicity may
tolerate those who profess another religion, or none at all. Religious
intolerance is an act of the mind, an act inseparable from faith;
indeed, whoever has a firm belief that his own religion is true,
must necessarily be convinced that it is the only true one; for the
truth is one. Civil intolerance is an act whereby the will rejects
those who do not profess the same religion; this act has different
results, according as the intolerance is in the individuals or in
the government. On the other hand, religious tolerance consists in
believing that all religions are true; which, when rightly understood,
means that none are true, since it is impossible for contradictory
things to be true at the same time. Civil tolerance is, to allow men
who entertain a different religion to live in peace. This tolerance,
as well as the co-relative intolerance, produces different effects,
according as it exists in individuals or in the government.
This distinction, which, from its clearness and simplicity, is within
the reach of the most ordinary minds, has nevertheless been mistaken
by Rousseau, who affirms that it is a vain fiction, a chimera, which
cannot be realized, and that the two kinds of intolerance cannot be
separated from each other. Rousseau might have been content with
observing, that religious intolerance, that is to say, as I have
explained above, the firm conviction that a religion is true, if it is
general in a country, must produce, in the ordinary intercourse of life
as well as in legislation, a certain tendency not to tolerate any one
who thinks differently, principally when those who dissent are very
limited in number; his observation would then have been well founded,
and would have agreed with the opinion which I have expressed on this
point, when I attempted to represent the natural course of ideas and
events in this matter. But Rousseau does not consider things under this
aspect: desiring to attack Catholicity, he affirms that the two kinds
of intolerance are inseparable; "for," says he, "it is impossible to
live in peace with those whom one believes to be damned; to love them
would be to hate God, who punishes them." It is impossible to carry
misrepresentation further: who told Rousseau that the Catholics believe
in the damnation of any man, whoever he may be, as long as he lives;
and that they think that to love a man who is in error would be to
hate God? On the contrary, could he be ignorant that it is a duty, an
indispensable precept, a dogma, for Catholics to love all men? Could
he be ignorant that even children, in the first rudiments of Christian
doctrine, learn that we are obliged to love our neighbor as ourselves,
and that by this word neighbor is meant whoever has gained heaven,
or may gain it; so that no man, so long as he lives, is excluded
from this number? But Rousseau will say, you are at least convinced
that those who die in that fatal state are condemned. Rousseau does
not observe that we think exactly the same with respect to sinners,
although their sin be not that of heresy; now, it has not come into
the head of any body that good Catholics cannot tolerate sinners, and
that they consider themselves under the obligation of hating them.
What religion shows more eagerness to convert the wicked? The Catholic
Church is so far from teaching that we ought to hate them, that she
causes to be repeated a thousand times, in pulpits, in books, and in
conversations, those words whereby God shows that it is His will that
sinners shall not perish, that He wills that they shall be converted
and live, that there is more joy in heaven when one of them has
done penance, than upon the ninety-nine just who need not penance.
And let it not be imagined that the man who thus expresses himself
against the intolerance of Catholics was the partizan of complete
toleration; on the contrary, in society, such as he imagined it, he
did not desire toleration for those who did not belong to the religion
which the civil power thought proper to establish. It is true that
he is not at all anxious that the citizens should belong to the true
religion. "Laying aside," he says, "political considerations, let us
return to the right, and let us lay down principles on this important
point. The right which the social pact gives to the sovereign over
his subject does not exceed, as I have said, the bounds of public
utility. Subjects, therefore, are accountable to their sovereign for
their opinions, inasmuch as those opinions are of importance to the
community. Now, it is of great importance to the state, that every
citizen should have a religion which shall make him love his duties;
but the dogmas of that religion interest the state and its members only
inasmuch as those dogmas affect morality and the duties which those who
profess it are bound to perform towards others. As for the rest, each
one may have what opinions he pleases, without being subject to the
cognizance of the sovereign, for he has no power in the other world;
it is not his affair what may be the lot of his subjects in the life
to come, provided they be good citizens in this. There is, therefore,
a profession of faith purely civil, the articles whereof it belongs to
the sovereign to fix, not exactly as dogmas of religion, but as social
sentiments, without which it is impossible to be a good citizen or
a faithful subject. Without being able to compel any one to believe
them, it can banish from the state him who does not believe them; it
can banish him, not as wicked, but as anti-social, as incapable of
sincerely loving the laws and justice, and of sacrificing his life to
his duty. If any one, after having publicly acknowledged these dogmas,
conducts himself as if he did not believe them, let him be punished
with death; he has committed the greatest of crimes, he has lied
against the laws." (_Du Contrat Social_, l. iv. c. 8.)
Such, then, is the final result of the toleration of Rousseau, viz.
to give to the sovereign the power of fixing articles of faith, to
grant to him the right of punishing with banishment, or even death,
those who will not conform to the decisions of this new Pope, or
who shall violate after having embraced them. However strange the
doctrine of Rousseau may appear, it is not excluded from the general
system of those who do not acknowledge the supremacy of authority in
religious matters. When this supremacy is to be attributed to the
Catholic Church, or its head, it is rejected; and, by the most striking
contradiction, it is granted to the civil power. It is very singular
that Rousseau, when banishing or putting to death the man who quits the
religion fashioned by the sovereign, does not wish him to be punished
as impious, but as anti-social. Rousseau, following an impulse very
natural in him, did not wish that impiety should be at all taken into
account when punishments were to be inflicted; but of what consequence
is the name given to his crime to the man who is banished or put to
death? In the same chapter, he allows an expression to escape him,
which reveals at once the object which he had in view in all this show
of philosophy: "Whoever dares to affirm that _out of the Church there
is no salvation_, ought to be driven from the state." Which means, in
other words, that toleration ought to be given to all except Catholics.
It has been said, that the _Contrat Social_ was the code of the French
revolution; and, indeed, the latter did not forget what the tolerant
legislator has prescribed with respect to Catholics. Few persons
now venture to declare themselves the disciples of the philosopher
of Geneva, although some of his timid partisans still lavish on him
unmeasured eulogies. Let us have sufficient confidence in the good
sense of the human race, to hope that all posterity, with a unanimous
voice, will confirm the stamp of ignominy with which all men of sense
have already marked that turbulent sophist, the impudent author of the
_Confessions_.
When comparing Protestantism with Catholicity, I was obliged to
treat of intolerance, as it is one of the reproaches which are most
frequently made against the Catholic religion; but my respect for truth
compels me to state, that all Protestants have not preached universal
toleration; and that many of them have acknowledged the right of
checking and punishing certain errors. Grotius, Puffendorf, and some
more of the wisest men that Protestantism can boast of, are agreed on
this point; therein they have followed the example of all antiquity,
which, in theory as well as in practice, has constantly conformed to
these principles. A cry has been raised against the intolerance of
Catholics, as if they had been the first to teach it to the world;
as if intolerance was a cursed monster, which was engendered only
where the Catholic Church prevailed. In default of any other reason,
good faith at least required that it should not be forgotten that the
principle of universal toleration was never acknowledged in any part
of the world; the books of philosophers, and the codes of legislators,
contain the principle of intolerance with more or less rigor. Whether
it were desired to condemn this principle as false, or to limit it, or
to leave it without application, it is clear that an accusation ought
not to have been made against the Catholic Church in particular, on
account of a doctrine and conduct, wherein she only conformed to the
example of the whole human race. Refined as well as barbarous nations
would be culpable therein, if there were any crime; and the stigma,
far from deserving to fall upon governments directed by Catholicity,
or on Catholic writers, ought to be inflicted on all the governments
of antiquity, including those of Greece and Rome; on all the ancient
sages, including Plato, Cicero, and Seneca; on modern governments and
sages, including Protestants. If men had had this present to their
minds, the doctrine would not have appeared so erroneous, nor the facts
so black; they would have seen that intolerance, as old as the world,
was not the invention of Catholics, and that the whole world, ought to
bear the responsibility of it.
Assuredly the toleration which, in our days, has become so general,
from causes previously pointed out, will not be affected by the
doctrines, more or less severe, more or less indulgent, which shall be
proclaimed in this matter; but for the very reason, that intolerance,
such as it was practised in other times, has at last become a mere
historical fact, whereof no one can fear the reappearance, it is proper
to enter into an attentive examination of questions of this kind, in
order to remove the reproach which her enemies have attempted to cast
upon the Catholic Church.
The recollection of the encyclical letter of the Pope against the
doctrines of M. de Lamennais, and the profound wisdom contained
therein appropriately presents itself here. That writer maintained
that universal toleration, the absolute liberty of worship, is the
normal and legitimate state of society,--a state which cannot be
changed without injury to the rights of the man and the citizen. M. de
Lamennais, combating the encyclical letter, attempted to show that it
established new doctrines, and attacked the liberty of nations. No; the
Pope, in his encyclical letter, does not maintain any other doctrines
than those which have been professed up to this time by the Church--we
may say by all governments--with respect to toleration. No government
can sustain itself if it is refused the right of repressing doctrines
dangerous to social order, whether those doctrines are covered with
the mantle of philosophy, or disguised under the veil of religion. The
liberty of man is not thereby assailed; for the only liberty which is
worthy of the name, is liberty in conformity with reason. The Pope did
not say that governments cannot, in certain cases, tolerate different
religions; but he did not allow it to be established as a principle,
that absolute toleration is an obligation on all governments. This
proposition is contrary to sound religious doctrines, to reason, to
the practice of all governments, in all times and countries, and the
good sense of mankind. The talent and eloquence of the unfortunate
author have not availed against this, and the Pope has obtained the
most solemn assent of all sensible men of all creeds; while the man
of genius, covering his brow with the shades of obstinacy, has not
feared to seize upon the ignoble arms of sophistry. Unhappy genius! who
scarcely preserves a shadow of himself, who has folded up the splendid
wings on which he sailed through the azure sky, and now, like a bird of
evil omen, broods over the impure waters of a solitary lake.
NOTE 26, p. 219.
When speaking of the Spanish Inquisition, I do not undertake to
defend all its acts either in point of justice, or of the public
advantage. Without denying the peculiar circumstances in which this
institution was placed, I think that it would have done much better,
after the example of the Inquisition of Rome, to avoid as much as
possible the effusion of blood. It might have perfectly watched over
the preservation of the faith, prevented the evils wherewith religion
was threatened by the Moors and the Jews, and preserved Spain from
Protestantism, without employing that excessive rigor, which drew upon
it the severe and deserved reprimands and admonitions of the Sovereign
Pontiffs, provoked the complaints of the people, made so many accused
and condemned persons appeal to Rome, and furnished the adversaries
of Catholicity with a pretext for charging _that_ religion with being
sanguinary which has a horror of the effusion of blood. I repeat, that
the Catholic religion is not responsible for any of the excesses which
have been committed in her name; and when men speak of the Inquisition,
they ought not to fix their eyes principally on that of Spain, but on
that of Rome. There, where the Sovereign Pontiff resides, and where
they best understand how the principle of intolerance should be
understood, and what use ought to be made of it, the Inquisition has
been mild and indulgent in the extreme. Rome is the part of the world
where humanity has suffered the least for the sake of religion; and
that, without the exception of any countries, either of those where
the Inquisition has existed, or of those where it has been unknown; of
those where Catholicity has been predominant, or where Protestantism
has triumphed. This fact, which cannot be denied, should suffice to
convince every sincere man what is the spirit of Catholicity in this
matter.
I make these remarks in order to show my impartiality, to prove that
I am not ignorant of evils, and that I do not hesitate to admit them
wherever I find them. Notwithstanding this, I am desirous that the
facts and the observations contained in the text, as well with respect
to the Inquisition itself, and to the different epochs of its duration,
as to the policy of the kings who founded and established it, shall not
be forgotten. The same desire makes me transcribe here a few documents
likely to throw a stronger light upon this important subject. In the
first place, I will quote the preamble of the Pragmatic Sanction of
the Catholic princes Ferdinand and Isabella, for the expulsion of the
Jews; we there find stated in a few words, the outrages which the Jews
inflicted on religion, and the dangers with which they threatened the
state.
"Book viii. chap. 2, second law of the new _Recopilacion_. Don
Ferdinand and Donna Isabella, at Granada, 30th March, 1492. Pragmatic
Sanction.
"Having been informed that there existed in these kingdoms bad
Christians, who judaized and apostatized from our holy Catholic faith,
whereof the communication between the Jews and Christians was in great
part the cause, we ordained, in the Cortes held by us in Toledo, in
1480, that the Jews in all the cities, towns, and other places of
our kingdoms and lordships, should be confined in the Juiferies and
places appointed for them to live and dwell in, hoping that this
separation would serve as a remedy; we also provided and gave orders
that an Inquisition should be appointed in our said kingdoms; which
Inquisition, as you know, is and has been practised for more than
twelve years, and has discovered a great number of delinquents, as
is notorious. As we have been informed by the Inquisitors, and many
other religious persons, lay and ecclesiastical, it is certain that
great injury to the Christians had been and is the result of the
participation, intercourse, and communication which they have had,
and still have, with the Jews; it has been proved that the latter, by
all the means in their power, constantly labor to subvert the faith
of Christians, to withdraw them from our holy Catholic faith, to lead
them away from it, to attract them, and to pervert them to their own
noxious creed and opinions; instructing them in the ceremonies and
observances of their own law; holding meetings to teach them what
they ought to believe and observe according to that law; taking care
to circumcise them and their children, giving them books in order to
recite their prayers, teaching them the fasts which they ought to
observe, assembling to read with them, teaching them the histories of
their laws; notifying to them the Paschal times before they arrive,
admonishing them as to what they ought to do and observe during those
times; giving them, bringing for them, from their own homes, the bread
of azimes, meats killed according to their ceremonies; instructing
them as to the things from which they ought to abstain, in order to
obey the law, as well in eating as in other things; persuading them,
as far as they can, to adopt and keep the Law of Moses, and making
them understand that no other law than that is true. All these things
are certain from numerous testimonies, from the acknowledgments of the
Jews themselves, and of those who have been perverted and deceived by
them, which has inflicted great injury, detriment, and dishonor on our
holy Catholic faith. Although we were already informed of these things
from many quarters, and although we were aware that the real remedy
for all these evils and inconveniences was to place an insurmountable
barrier to the communication of the Jews with the Christians, and to
banish the Jews from our kingdoms, we wished to be satisfied with
enjoining them to quit all the cities, towns, and places of Andalusia,
where it seemed that they had done the most mischief, believing that
that would be enough to hinder those of the other cities, towns, and
places of our kingdoms and lordships from doing and committing what has
been mentioned. But being informed that this measure, as well as the
acts of justice exercised on some of the Jews who were found guilty
of these offences and crimes against our holy Catholic faith, do not
suffice to remedy the evil thoroughly; for the purpose of obviating
and abolishing so great an opprobrium, such an offence against the
faith and the Christian religion, since it appears that the same Jews,
with a fatal ardor, redouble their perverse attempts wherever they
live and associate; wishing to suppress the occasion of offending more
against our holy Catholic faith, as well on account of those persons
whom it has pleased God up to this time to preserve, as of those who,
after having fallen, have repented and returned to our holy mother
the Church; wishing to prevent the offences which, on account of the
weakness of our human nature, and the suggestions of the devil, which
continually make war on us, might easily occur, if the principal cause
of the evil were not removed by the expulsion of the Jews from our
kingdoms; considering, besides, that when a great and detestable crime
has been committed by some members of a college or university, it is
reasonable that that college or that university should be dissolved
and destroyed, that some may be punished on account of the others, and
the lesser number on account of the greater; that those who pervert
the good and virtuous mode of life of cities and towns, by a contagion
which may injure others, may be banished from those towns; and that
if it be allowed to act thus for other slight causes prejudicial to
the state, there is still more reason to allow it for the greatest,
the most dangerous, the most contagious of crimes, that which is in
question: for all these reasons we, having consulted our Council, and
taken the advice of some prelates," &c.
We are not now examining whether or not there is any exaggeration
in these imputations against the Jews, although, according to all
appearances, there must have been a great deal of foundation for
them, in consequence of the situation in which the two rival nations
were placed. Observe, besides, that if the preamble of the Pragmatic
Sanction is silent with respect to a hundred accusations brought
against the Jews by the generality of the people, the report of these
crimes had not the less weight with the public; consequently, the
situation of the Jews was aggravated in an extraordinary degree, and
the princes were so much the more inclined to treat them with severity.
With respect to the mistrust with which the Moors and their descendants
must have been regarded, besides the facts pointed out above, others
might be related which show the disposition of men's minds to see
in the presence of these men a permanent conspiracy against the
Christians. Almost a century had elapsed since the conquest of Granada,
and it was still feared that this kingdom might be the centre of plots
contrived by the Moors against the Christians, the source of perfidious
projects, and the place whence came the means of maltreating in all
ways the defenceless persons upon our coasts.
Thus spoke Philip II. in 1567:
"Book viii. chap. 2, of the new _Recopilacion_.
"Law xx., which decrees severe punishments against the inhabitants of
the kingdom of Granada who shall have hidden, received, or favored the
Turks, Moors, or Jews, or given them intelligence, or corresponded with
them.
"D. Philip II., Madrid, 10 December, 1567.
"Having been informed that, notwithstanding what has been ordained
by us, as well by sea as by land, particularly for the kingdom of
Granada, for the purpose of insuring the defence and security of our
kingdoms, the Turks, Moors, and corsairs have already committed, and
still commit, in the ports of this kingdom, on the coasts, in maritime
places, and those bordering on the sea, robberies, misdeeds, injuries,
and seizures of Christians; evils which are notorious, and which, it
is said, have been, and are, committed with ease and security, by
favor of the intercourse and understanding which the ravishers have
had, and still have, with some of the inhabitants of the country, who
give them intelligence, guide them, receive them, hide them, and lend
them favor and assistance; some of them even going away with the Moors
and Turks, leading away and carrying with them their wives, their
children, their goods, Christian captives, and the things which they
were able to ravish from the Christians; while other inhabitants of the
same kingdom, who have participated in these projects, or have been
acquainted with them, remain in the country, without having been or
being punished; for it appears that measures are not executed with due
severity, nor as completely, or with as much care as they ought to be:
as, moreover, it seems very difficult to get accurate information, as
it appears that even the justices and the judges, to whom it belongs to
make inquiries and to punish, have displayed remissness and negligence
in their employment;--this having been agitated and discussed in our
Council, with the view of providing, as is proper in a thing of such
great importance, for the service of God our Master, for our own and
the public good; the thing having been consulted upon by us, it has
been agreed that we ought to publish this present letter," &c.
Years passed away; the hatred between the two nations still endured; in
spite of the numerous checks which the Mahometan race had received, the
Christians were not satisfied. It was very probable that a nation who
had suffered, and might still suffer, such great humiliations, would
attempt to avenge them. It is also by no means difficult to believe in
the reality of the conspiracies which were charged against the Moors.
However this may be, the report of these conspiracies was general, and
the government was seriously alarmed by them. Those who desire a proof
of this, may read what Philip III. said, in 1609, in the law which
expelled the Moriscoes.
"Book viii. chap. 2, of the new _Recopilacion_.
"Law XXV. By virtue of which the Moriscoes were banished from the
kingdom: causes of this expulsion--means which were adopted for the
execution of the measure.
"D. Philip III., Madrid, 9 December, 1609.
"For a long time it has been endeavored to save the Moriscoes in these
kingdoms: the holy office of the Inquisition has inflicted divers
punishments; numerous edicts of mercy have been granted; neither means
nor diligence have been spared to instruct them in our holy faith,
without being able to obtain the desired result, for none of them have
been converted. On the contrary, their obstinacy has increased; the
peril which threatens our kingdoms, if we keep the Moriscoes, has been
represented to us by persons very well informed and full of the fear of
God, who, thinking it proper that a prompt remedy should be applied to
this evil, have represented to us that the delay might be charged upon
our royal conscience, considering the grave offences which our Lord
receives from that people. We have been assured that we might, without
scruple, punish them in their lives and properties, since they were
convicted by their continued offences of being heretics, apostates,
and traitors of _lèse-majesté_ divine and human. Although it would
have been allowable to proceed against them with the rigor which their
offences deserve, nevertheless, desiring to bring them back by means of
mildness and mercy, I ordained, in the city and kingdom of Valencia,
an assembly of the patriarchs, and other prelates and wise men, in
order to ascertain what could be resolved upon and settled; but having
learned that, at the very time they were engaged in remedying the
evil, the Moriscoes of the said kingdom of Valencia, and of our other
domains, continued to urge forward their pernicious projects; knowing,
moreover, from correct and certain intelligence, that they had sent to
treat at Constantinople with the Turks, and at Morocco with the king,
Muley Fidon, in order that there might be sent into the kingdom of
Spain the greatest number of forces possible to aid and assist them;
being sure that there would be found in our kingdom more than 150,000
men, as good Moors as those from the coasts of Barbary, all ready to
assist them with their lives and fortunes, whereby they were persuaded
of the facility of the enterprise; knowing that the same treaties have
been attempted with heretics and other princes our enemies: considering
all that we have just said, and to fulfill the obligation which we are
under of preserving and maintaining the holy Roman Catholic faith in
our kingdoms, as well as the security, peace, and repose of the said
kingdoms, with the counsel and advice of learned men, and others, very
zealous for the service of God and for our own, we ordain that all the
Moriscoes, inhabitants of these kingdoms, men, women, and children, of
all conditions," &c.
I have said that the Popes labored, from the commencement, to soften
the rigors of the Spanish Inquisition, sometimes by admonishing the
kings and inquisitors, sometimes by giving the accused and condemned a
right of appeal. The kings feared that the religious innovations would
produce a public disturbance; I add, that their policy embarrassed
the Popes, and prevented them from carrying as far as they would have
wished their measures of mildness and indulgence. Among the other
documents which support this assertion, I will cite one which proves
the irritation of the Spanish kings at the assistance which the accused
found at Rome.
"Book viii. chap. 3, law 2, of the new _Recopilacion_, enjoining
persons condemned by the Inquisition, and absent from these kingdoms,
not to return there under pain of death and losing their goods.
"D. Ferdinand and D. Isabella, at Saragossa, 2d August, 1498. Pragmatic
Sanction.
"Some persons condemned as heretics by the Inquisition have absented
themselves from our kingdoms, and have gone to other countries,
where, by means of false reports and undue formalities, they have
surreptitiously obtained exemptions, absolutions, mandates, securities,
and other privileges, in order to be exempt from the condemnations and
punishments which they had incurred, and to remain in their errors,
which, nevertheless, does not prevent their attempting to return to
these kingdoms, wherefore, wishing to extirpate so great an evil, we
command these condemned persons not to be so bold as to return. Let
them not return into our kingdoms and lordships, by any way, in any
manner, for any cause or reason whatsoever, under pain of death and
the loss of their goods; which punishment we will and ordain to be
incurred by the act itself. One-third of the property shall be for the
persons who shall have denounced, another for the courts, and the third
for our exchequer. Whenever the said justices, in their own places
and jurisdiction, shall know that any of the said persons are in any
part of their jurisdiction, we order all and each of them, without
exception, to go to the place where such persons are, without being
otherwise called upon, to apprehend them forcibly and immediately,
and without delay to execute, and cause to be executed, on them and
their properties the punishments which we have appointed; and this
notwithstanding all exemption, reconciliation, securities, and other
privileges which they may have, these privileges, in the present case,
and with respect to the said penalties, not availing them. We order
them to do and accomplish this under pain of the loss and confiscation
of all their property. The same penalty shall be incurred by all other
persons who shall have hidden or received the said condemned persons,
and who knowing that they were so, shall not have given information
to our courts. We order all great men and councillors, and other
persons of our kingdoms, to give favor and assistance to our courts,
whenever it shall be demanded and required from them, to accomplish and
execute what has been said above, under the penalties which the courts
themselves shall appoint on this subject."
We see from this document, that, after the year 1498, things had
reached such a point, that the kings attempted to maintain against
every one all the rigor of the Inquisition, and that they were offended
that the Popes interfered to soften it. It will be understood thereby
whence proceeded the harshness with which the guilty were treated; and
this shows us one of the causes which made the Inquisition sometimes
use its power with excessive severity. Although it was not a mere
instrument of the policy of kings, as some have said, the Inquisition
felt more or less the influence of that policy; and we know that
policy, when about to defeat an adversary, does not commonly display an
excess of compassion. If the Spanish Inquisition had been at that time
under the exclusive authority and direction of the Popes, it would have
been infinitely milder and more moderate in its method of acting.
At that time the object ardently desired by the kings of Spain was, to
obtain that the judgments of the Inquisition should be definitive in
Spain, without appeal to Rome; Queen Isabella had expressly demanded
this of the Pope. The Sovereign Pontiffs would not accede to these
solicitations, no doubt fearing the abuse which might be made of so
fearful an arm when the restraint of the moderating power should become
wanting.
It will be understood from the facts which I have just quoted, how much
reason I had to say that, if you excuse the conduct of Ferdinand and
Isabella with respect to the Inquisition, you must not condemn that
of Philip II., since the Catholic sovereigns showed themselves still
more harsh and severe than the latter monarch. I have already pointed
out the reason why the conduct of Philip II. has been so rigorously
condemned; but it is also necessary to show why there has been a sort
of obstinacy in excusing that of Ferdinand and Isabella.
When it is wished to falsify an historical fact by calumniating a
person or an institution, it is necessary to begin with an affectation
of impartiality and good faith; great success is obtained in this
by manifesting indulgence for the same thing which it is desired
to condemn, but taking care that this indulgence has strongly the
appearance of being a concession gratuitously made to our adversaries,
or of a sacrifice of our opinions, of our feelings, on the altars
of reason and justice, which are our guide and our idol. We thus
predispose our hearers or readers to regard the condemnation which
we are about to pronounce as a judgment dictated by the strictest
justice; a judgment in which neither passion, nor partiality, nor
perverse views, have any part. How can we doubt the good faith, the
love of truth, the impartiality of the man who begins by excusing what,
according to all appearances, and considering his opinions, ought to
be the object of his anathemas? Such is the situation of the men of
whom we speak. They intended to attack the Inquisition; now it happened
that the protectress, and, in some sort, the foundress of that tribunal
was Queen Isabella,--that distinguished name which Spaniards have
always pronounced with respect, that immortal queen, one of the noblest
ornaments of our history. What was to be done in this difficulty? The
means were simple. Although the Jews and heretics had been treated
with the greatest severity in the time of the Catholic sovereigns, and
although they had carried severity further than all those who have
succeeded them, it was necessary to close the eye to these facts, to
excuse the conduct of these sovereigns, and to point out the important
matters which urged them to employ the rigors of justice. They thus
avoided the difficulty,--for it was one to cast a stigma on the memory
of a great queen cherished and respected by all Spaniards,--and they
thus prepared the way for merciless accusations against Philip II. That
monarch had the unanimous cry of all Protestants against him, for the
simple reason that he had been their most powerful adversary; it would
therefore cost nothing to make all the weight of execration fall upon
him. The enigma is thus explained. Such is the cause of a partiality so
unjust,--such is the hypocrisy of that opinion which, while excusing
the Catholic sovereigns, condemns Philip II. without appeal.
I have not attempted to justify the policy of this monarch in all
respects; but I have presented a few considerations which may serve to
mitigate the violent attacks made upon him by his adversaries: it only
remains for me to transcribe here the documents to which I alluded when
I said that the Inquisition was not a mere instrument of the policy of
Philip II., and that this prince did not intend to establish a system
of _obscurantisme_ in Spain.
Don Antonio Perez, in his _Relations_, gives a letter of the confessor
of the king, Fray Diego de Chaves, in which letter the latter affirms
that the secular prince has power over the lives of his subjects and
vassals, and adds in a note: "I shall not undertake to relate all that
I have heard said on the subject of the condemnation of some of these
propositions; this is not within my province. Those who are concerned
in this will at once understand the import of my words. I shall
content myself with saying that, at the time when I was at Madrid, the
Inquisition condemned the following proposition: a preacher--it matters
not that I should mention his name--maintained in a sermon, at St.
Jerome's, in Madrid, in presence of the Catholic king, _that kings have
an absolute power over the persons of their subjects, as well as over
their properties_. Besides some other separate matters, the preacher
was condemned to retract this publicly, in the same place, with all
the ceremonies of a juridical act, which he did in the same pulpit,
saying that he had advanced such a proposition on such a day, and that
he retracted it as erroneous. 'For, messieurs,' said he, reading
literally from a paper, '_kings have no other power over their subjects
than what is given them by the divine and human law; they have none
proceeding from their own free and absolute will_.' I even know who
condemned the proposition, and appointed the words which the accused,
to the great gratification of the former, was obliged to pronounce;
indeed, he rejoiced to see torn up so poisonous a weed, which he felt
was increasing, as the event proved. Master Fray Hernando del Castillo
(I will mention his name) was the one who prescribed what the accused
was to say; he was consultee of the holy office, and preacher to the
king; he was a man of singular learning and eloquence, very well known
and esteemed by his own nation, and especially by the Italians. Dr.
Velasco, an important personage of that time, said of him, that the
guitar in the hands of Fabricio Dentici was not so sweet as the tongue
of Master Fray Hernandez del Castillo to the ears of those who heard
him." And at page 47 in the text: "I know," says Don Antonio Perez,
"that they were denominated very scandalous by persons very important
by their rank, their learning, and their Christian purity of heart;
there was one among them who had held supreme rank in the spiritual
order in Spain, and had previously filled an office in the tribunal
of the Inquisition." Perez afterwards says, that this person was the
nuncio of his Holiness. (_Relaciones de Anton. Perez._ Paris, 1624.)
The letter of Philip II. to Doctor D. Benito Arias Montano contains the
following, in addition to the remarkable passage which we have quoted.
"Concerning what you, Dr. &c., my chaplain, will have to do at Antwerp,
whither we send you. Dated at Madrid, 25th March, 1568.
"Besides that you will render this good office and service to the said
Plantinus, know that, from this time, in proportion as the six thousand
crowns are recovered from his hands, I apply them to buy books for the
monastery of St. Laurent-le-Royal, of the order of St. Jerome, which
I am building near the Escurial, as you know. Thus you are admonished
that such is my intention; you will comply with this, and will be
diligent in collecting all the choice books, printed and MS., that your
excellent discernment shall think proper, in order to bring them and
place them in the library of the said monastery. Indeed, it is one of
the chief possessions which I would wish to leave to the religious who
are intended to dwell there, for it is the most useful and necessary.
Wherefore I have also commanded my ambassador in France, D. Francis
de Alaba, to collect the best books which he shall be able in that
kingdom: you will communicate with him on that subject. I will direct
him to communicate in writing also with you, to send you a list of the
books which are to be had, as well as their price, before buying them;
you will advise him as to which he had better take or leave, and what
he may give for such. He will send to you at Antwerp those which he has
thus bought; you will acknowledge them, and forward them here, all at
once, at the proper time."
During the reign of Philip II.,--of that prince who is represented
to us as one of the principal authors of _obscurantisme_,--choice
works, both printed and MS., were sought in foreign countries, in order
to enrich the Spanish libraries; in our age, which we call that of
enlightenment, the libraries of Spain have been plundered, and their
treasures have gone to add to those of foreigners. Who is ignorant
of the collections which have been made of our books and MS., in
England? Consult the catalogues of the British Museum and other private
libraries. The author of these lines states only what he has seen with
his own eyes--what he has heard lamented by persons worthy of respect.
While we show so much negligence in preserving our treasures, let us
not be so unjust and so puerile as to lose our time in vain declamation
against those who have bequeathed them to us.
APPENDIX.
_A few words on Puigblanch, Villeneuve, and Llorente._
Here, in the Spanish edition, the notes relating to the Inquisition
terminate; but I think it may not be useless in the French edition
to add a few words, to explain the matter to my foreign readers:
little versed as they are in the knowledge of our affairs, they might
often happen to drink at corrupted sources, which they imagine to be
pure and salutary. Le Compte de Maistre, with respect to the Spanish
Inquisition, cites _L'Inquisition dévoilée de Natanaël Jomtob_: I will
say a few words, lest the authority of the author who quotes should
give too much importance to him who is quoted. This Natanaël Jomtob
is no other than Dr. D. Antonio Puigblanch, a Spaniard, who died not
long ago in London. This author, in the prologue to his works published
in London, himself explains the reason which made him adopt a strange
name. "These Hebrew words," he says, "are two proper significative
names, which, together, form the inscription, _Dedit Deus diem bonum_.
I wished thus to express the happiness of being able to speak and write
freely against the tribunal of the Inquisition, and the happiness of
seeing it abolished." (_Prolog._ p. cxv.)
In order that the reader may judge of the value that belongs to this
work, I will observe, that the first qualification in an historian,
especially on a matter so delicate, is complete impartiality united
to a great fund of moderation: these two qualifications were wanting
in M. Puigblanch, who was lamentably infected with the contrary
faults. It is impossible to be more violent than he is against all
that he meets with; his ill-humor and anger blind him; he attacks
institutions and men with perfect fury; he respects nothing: add
to this a pitiable vanity. It would be easy for me to produce here
various proofs of the impiety of Puigblanch; but I should fear to soil
my paper by transcribing the impious satires of this man. This is
enough to give an idea of the point of view in which he could regard
things relating to religious affairs and to the clergy. He misses no
opportunity of ridiculing the ministers of religion, of indulging in
invectives against them, and of giving vent to the incomprehensible
rage which he has against them. The unbecoming manner in which he
treats his adversaries, real or imaginary, even when they have more
or less sympathy with his opinions, is a good apology for the things
which he combats on the other hand. I cannot repeat his words here, so
coarse are they; besides, they attack persons who are still living;
suffice it to say, that not content with insulting them in the most
disgusting way, Puigblanch descends so low as to reproach them with
their physical defects, after the manner of a market-woman. What was
to be hoped from such a mind in a matter so important and delicate?
Were such dispositions suitable for an historian of the Inquisition,
who published his work precisely in the year 1811, that is to say,
at a time of reaction and effervescence? With respect to talent and
knowledge, I will not refuse to M. Puigblanch either reading or
erudition, or a certain aptitude for criticism, yet it must not be
forgotten that his mind was far from being so cultivated as it ought
to have been, in order to keep pace with our age. A work like his
required that he should have followed the march of the times, that he
should not have been altogether devoid of the philosophy of history,
that he should not have relied exclusively upon certain books, while
accumulating crude erudition, and incessantly perusing etymologies and
grammatical questions: this is what was wanting in M. Puigblanch. To
sum up all in one sentence, I have found the following description,
which I heard in London, from the mouth of a distinguished man who had
intercourse with Puigblanch for a long time, to be perfectly correct:
"Puigblanch," he told me, "knew what a learned man of the seventeenth
century in Spain might have known." The Christian reader may imagine
what was the result of the amalgamation of this kind of instruction
with all the bile of Voltairian passion.
D. Joaquin Lorenzo Villanueva is another of those Spaniards who have
distinguished themselves by declaiming against the Inquisition; in
his Literary Life (_Vida Literaria_) he had asserted that the public
information on this question, and the abolition of that famous
tribunal, were in great part owing to him. Puigblanch strongly
recriminates against Villanueva, who attempted to usurp his glory
by availing himself of his work without acknowledging it, and other
similar things, which do as little honor to the one as to the other.
Villanueva has been already judged in Spain by all sensible men;
foreigners who desire to understand this question will be under the
unpleasant obligation of reading the two large volumes in 8vo, in
which he has written his literary life. The bile of Villanueva against
all the clergy who are not of his coterie, and, above all, his hatred
against Rome, show themselves at every page of his book, and from time
to time produce explosions which are much too violent to accord with
the extreme mildness which he is pleased to affect. Moreover, let the
reader prepare and arm himself with patience, if he undertake to get
through these two large volumes, which contain, written by the man
himself, who so well deserved it, the most complete panegyric of his
profound knowledge, his vast erudition, his great humility, and his
virtues of all kinds. It certainly would have been very well, if the
author, with a slight recollection of modesty, had not candidly told
us, that they went so far as to call him the _father of the poor_,
that his poetic fire was not cooled by age, that his activity in labor
did not allow him to remain idle, even in the midst of the greatest
persecutions; in fine, if he had not undertaken to make us believe
that all his life was a continual sacrifice on the altars of knowledge
and virtue. To those who desire to derive their information from
Villanueva, we have a right to say: Do not forget that you must beware
of believing all--that the tree is known by its fruits--that the wolf
often assumes sheep's clothing.
Among those who have made the most noise with respect to the
Inquisition, is Llorente, the author of a history of that famous
institution. The impartiality which may be expected from this writer
shows itself every moment in his book, which has evidently been written
for the purpose of blackening, as much as possible, the Catholic clergy
and the Holy See. Happily the author has made himself too well known
by his other works, for any Catholic to allow himself to be deceived
by his insidious writings. No one, especially in Spain, is ignorant
of the project of the religious constitution with which Llorente
attempted to disturb consciences, and introduce schism and heresy into
our country. Does he who attempts to destroy the universal discipline
established from the earliest ages, who expresses doubts on the most
sacred mysteries of our holy religion, who contests the infallible
authority of the Church, and does not hold the first four Œcumenical
Councils to be legitimate, deserve the least credit when writing
the history of the Inquisition,--that history which affords so many
opportunities of declaiming against the clergy and against Rome? Here
is a proof of his impartiality. In his history of the Inquisition, he
could not avoid relating the conduct of the Apostolic See in the early
times of the Inquisition in Spain, and the efforts made by the Holy See
for the purpose of softening the rigors of that tribunal, the appeals
which were made, and the merciful judgments which were almost always
obtained at Rome; all these facts clearly showed that Rome, far from
being, as he pretended, a monster of cruelty, was rather a model of
mildness and prudence. How do you think he gets out of this difficulty?
By saying, that what the Court of Rome wanted was, to extort money from
us. An explanation as unworthy as it is impudent--an odious means of
depriving the most beneficent and generous actions of their lustre, and
which shows a fixed design to find evil every where, even to the extent
of assigning evil motives for benefits which are the most worthy of
gratitude.
With respect to Llorente, I am unwilling to pass over in silence a
remarkable fact which he has had the kindness to communicate to the
public in the same work. King Joseph, the intruder, intrusted Llorente,
by express orders, with the archives of the Supreme Council and the
Tribunal of the Inquisition of the capital. This excellent man was so
perfect an archivist, that he burnt all the reports of proceedings,
with the approbation of his master (as he himself tells us), with the
exception of those which could appertain to history, by the celebrity
or the renown of the persons who figured in them, such as those of
Caranza, of Macanaz, and a few others; although he preserved entire,
he adds, the registers of the decisions of the Council, the royal
ordinances, and the bulls and briefs from Rome. (Edition Française,
1818, t. 4, p. 145.) After having heard this remarkable confession, we
will ask every impartial man, whether there is not room for greatly
mistrusting an historian who claims to be sole and _unique_, because he
has had the opportunity of consulting the original documents whereon
he founds his history, and who, nevertheless, burns and destroys these
same documents? Was there no place to be found in Madrid to place them,
where they could be examined by those who, after Llorente, might wish
to write the history of the Inquisition from the original documents?
Llorente has preserved, he tells us, those which belonged to history;
but the history of the Inquisition had equally need of others, even the
most obscure--even the most apparently insignificant; for it not seldom
happens that a fact, a circumstance, a word, shows us an institution,
and paints for us an age. And observe, that this destruction took
place at a critical moment of public disturbance, when the whole
nation, devoted to an immortal struggle in defence of her independence,
could not fix her attention on such matters. The most remarkable
men, scattered on all sides, then led their fellow-citizens in arms,
or were engaged in the most important interests of the country;
consequently they could not watch over the conduct of an archivist,
who, after having left his brethren, whose blood was flowing upon the
battle-field, accepted employment under a foreign intruder, and burned
the documents of an institution whereof he undertook to write the
history.
NOTE 27, p. 281.
The plan of my work required that questions relating to the religious
communities should be examined at some length but it did not allow me
to give to this matter all the development of which it is susceptible.
Indeed, it would be possible, in my opinion, in writing the history of
religious communities, to give side by side that of the nations among
whom these communities arose, so as to show in detail a truth we have
now proved, viz. that the establishment of religious institutions,
besides the superior and divine object which they have had in view,
has been at all times the fulfilment of a social and religious
necessity. Although my strength does not enable me to aspire to such
an enterprise, by which the courage may well be daunted, even by
contemplating the immense extent of such a work, I wish to suggest the
idea of it here; perhaps a man may be found with sufficient capacity,
learning, and leisure, to undertake it, and enrich our age with this
new monument of history and philosophy. By conceiving the plan in this
point of view, and making it subordinate to this unity of object,
whereof the foundation, which shows itself in well-known facts, is
discovered in obscure and conjectured in hidden ones, there would be no
difficulty in giving all desirable variety to this work. The subject
itself leads to variety; for it invites the writer to descend to
extremely interesting particulars, which will be like the episodes of
a grand and unique poem. The disposition of men's minds, now become
favorable to religious institutions, thanks to the deceptions which are
the consequence of vain theories, and to the lessons of experience,
which destroy the calumnies invented by philosophy, render the road
every day more easy. The path is already sufficiently beaten; it is
only required to enlarge and extend it, in order to conduct a greater
number of men towards the region of truth.
Having pointed out this, it only remains for me to state here, in
conclusion, divers facts which could not be given in the text, and
which I have preferred to collect in a note. As these facts belonged to
the same subject, it appeared to me proper to collect them apart, while
leaving the reader to pay full attention to the observations which form
the body of my work.
There were known among the pagans, under the name of ascetics, persons
who devoted themselves to abstinence and the practice of the austere
virtues; so that, even before Christianity, there already existed the
idea of those virtues which have been since exercised in Christianity.
The lives of the philosophers are full of examples which prove the
truth of my assertion. Yet it will be understood that, deprived of the
light of faith and the aid of grace, the pagan philosophers afforded
but a very faint shadow of what was afterwards realized in the lives
of the Christian ascetics. We have stated that the monastic life is
founded on the Gospel, inasmuch as the Gospel contains asceticism. From
the foundation of the Church we see the monastic life established under
one form or another. Origen tells us of certain men, who, in order to
reduce their bodies into subjection, abstained from eating meat and
from all that had life. (Origen, _Contr. Celsum_, lib. v.) Tertullian
makes mention of some Christians who abstained from marriage, not
because they condemned it, but in order to gain the kingdom of heaven.
(Tertul. _De Cult. Femin._ lib. ii.)
It is remarkable, that the weaker sex participated in a singular manner
in that strength of mind which Christianity communicated for the
exercise of the heroic virtues. In the early ages of the Church there
were already reckoned, in great numbers, virgins and widows consecrated
to the Lord, bound by a vow of perpetual chastity; and we see that
special care was taken in the ancient Councils of the Church of that
chosen portion of her flock. It is one of the objects of the solicitude
of the Fathers to regulate discipline on this point in a proper manner.
The virgins made their public profession in the church; they received
the veil from the hands of the bishop, and, for greater solemnity, they
were distinguished by a kind of consecration. This ceremony required a
certain age in the person who was consecrated to God; we also observe
that discipline has been very different on this point. In the East
they received persons seventeen years old, and even sixteen, as we
learn from St. Basil (_Epist._ can. 18); in Africa at twenty-five,
as we see from the fourth canon of the third Council of Carthage; in
France at forty, as appears from the nineteenth canon of the Council
of Agde. Even when the virgins and widows dwelt in the houses of
their fathers, they did not cease to be reckoned among ecclesiastical
persons; they received the support of the Church by this title, in
cases of necessity. If they violated their vow of chastity, they were
excommunicated, and could not return to the communion of the faithful,
except by submitting to public penance. (For these details, see the
thirty-third canon of the third Council of Carthage, the nineteenth
canon of the Council of Ancyra, and the sixteenth canon of that of
Chalcedon.)
In the first three centuries, the state of the Church, subject to an
almost continual persecution, must naturally have hindered persons who
loved the ascetic life, men or women, from assembling in the towns to
observe it in common. Some think that the propagation of the ascetic
life in the desert is in great part due to the persecution of Decius,
which was very cruel in Egypt, and made a great number of Christians
retire into the deserts of the Thebais, or other solitudes in the
neighbourhood. Thus commenced the establishment of that method of life
which, in the end, was to gain so prodigious an extension. St. Paul, if
we are to believe St. Jerome, was the founder of the solitary life.
It appears that some abuses were introduced into the monastic life from
the earliest ages, as we see certain monks detested at Rome in the time
of Jerome. _Quousque genus detestabile monacorum urbe non pellitur_,
says the saint by the mouth of the Romans in a letter to Paula; but
the reputation of the monks, which had perhaps been compromised by the
Sarabaïtes and the Gyrovagues, a kind of vagabonds whose last care
was the practice of the virtues of their state, and who indulged in
gluttony and other pleasures with shameful licentiousness, was soon
restored. St. Athanasius, St. Jerome himself, St. Martin, and other
celebrated men, among whom St. Bennet distinguished himself in a
particular manner, renewed the splendor of the monastic life by the
most eloquent apology, that which consisted in giving, as they did, the
most sublime example of the most austere virtues.
It is remarkable that, in spite of the multiplication of monks in
the east and west, they were not divided into different orders, so
that, during the first six centuries, all, as Mabillon observes,
were considered as forming one institute. There was something noble
in this unity, which, as it were, formed all the monasteries into
one family; but it must be acknowledged that the diversity of orders
afterwards introduced was essentially calculated to attain the various
and numerous objects which successively attracted the attention of
religious institutions.
The discipline, by virtue whereof no new order could be instituted
without the previous approbation of the sovereign Pontiff, it may be
said, was very necessary, considering the ardor which afterwards urged
many persons to establish new institutions; so that, without this
prudent check, disorder would have been introduced in consequence of
the exaggerated transports which urged some imaginations to exceed all
bounds.
Some people take delight in relating the excesses into which some
individuals of the mendicant orders fell; and they borrow the
narratives of Matthew Paris, without forgetting the lamentations of
St. Bonaventura himself. I wish not to excuse evil, wherever it is
found; but I will observe, that the circumstances of the times when
the mendicant orders were established, and the kind of life they were
obliged to embrace, in order to fulfill the purpose for which they were
intended, as I have pointed out in the text, rendered almost inevitable
those evils which pious men sincerely deplored, and which the enemies
of the Church lament with no less affectation than exaggeration.
NOTE 28, p. 305.
I have already shown, by numerous testimonies of scholastic
theologians, how the divine origin of the civil power is to be
understood; and it is evident that it contains nothing but what is
perfectly conformable to sound reason, and adapted, at the same
time, to the high aims of society. It would have been easy for me to
accumulate testimonies; but I think I have adduced a sufficient number
to throw light on the subject, and to satisfy every reader who, free
from unjust prejudices, is sincerely desirous of listening to truth. In
order, however, to view this subject under every aspect, I will add a
few explanations on that celebrated passage of St. Paul to the Romans,
chap. xiii., in which the Apostle speaks of the origin of powers, and
of the submission and obedience due to them. Let it not be thought,
however, that I purpose attaining this end by any reasoning more or
less specious. Whenever a passage of Scripture is to be expounded in
its true sense, we should not rely principally upon what our wavering
reason suggests to us, but rather upon the interpretation of the
Catholic Church; for this reason we should consult those writers whose
high authority, founded on their wisdom and their virtue, leads us to
hope that they have not deviated from the maxim, _Quod semper, quod
ubique, quod ab omnibus traditum est_.
We have already seen a remarkable passage of St. John Chrysostom,
explaining this point with as much clearness as solidity; we have
also learned, from the testimony of the Fathers, what motives induced
the Apostles to inculcate so pressingly the obligation of obedience
to the lawful authorities. It only remains for us to insert here the
commentaries of some illustrious writers on the text of the Apostle. In
them we shall find, as it were, a code of doctrine; and when we come to
appreciate the reasons on which the precepts inculcated in the sacred
text are founded, we shall more easily discover their true meaning.
Observe, in the first place, with what wisdom, prudence, and piety this
important subject is expounded by a writer who was not of the golden
era, but, on the contrary, who lived in what is generally termed the
barbarous age--St. Anselm. In his commentaries on the 13th chapter of
the Epistle to the Romans, this doctor thus expresses himself:
"_Omnis anima potestatibus sublimioribus subdita sit. Non est enim
potestas nisi a Deo. Quæ autem sunt, a Deo ordinatæ sunt. Itaque qui
resistit potestati, Dei ordinationi resistit. Qui autem resistunt, ipsi
sibi damnationem acquirunt._
"Sicut superius reprehendit illos, qui gloriabantur de meritis, ita
nunc ingreditur illos redarguere, qui postquam erant ad fidem conversi
nolebant subjici alicui potestati. Videbatur enim quod infideles, Dei
fidelibus non deberent dominari, etsi fideles deberent esse pares. Quam
superbiam removet, dicens: _Omnis anima_, id est, _omnis_ homo, _sit_
humiliter _subdita potestatibus_ vel secularibus, vel ecclesiasticis,
sublimioribus se: hoc est, omnis homo sit subjectus superpositis sibi
potestatibus. A parte enim majore significat totum hominem, sicut
rursum a parte inferiore totus homo significatur ubi Propheta dicit:
_Quia videbit omnis caro salutare Dei_. Et recte admonet, ne quis ex
eo quod in libertatem vocatus est, factusque Christianus, extollatur
in superbiam, et non arbitretur in hujus vitæ itinere servandum esse
ordinem suum, et _potestatibus_, quibus pro tempore rerum temporalium
gubernatio tradita est, non se putet esse subdendum. Cum enim constemus
ex anima et corpore, et quamdiu in hac vita temporali sumus, etiam
rebus temporalibus ad subsidium ejusdem vitæ utamur, oportet nos ex
ea parte, quæ ad hanc vitam pertinet, subditos esse _potestatibus_,
id est, res humanas cum aliquo honore administrantibus: ex illa vero
parte, qua Deo credimus, et in regnum ejus vocamur, non debemus
subditi esse cuiquam homini, id ipsum in nobis evertere cupienti,
quod Deus ad vitam æternam donare dignatus est. Si quis ergo putat
quoniam Christianus est, non sibi esse vectigal reddendum, sive
tributum, aut non esse honorem exhibendum debitum eis quæ hæc curant
_potestatibus_, in magno errore versatur. Item si quis sic se putat
esse subdendum, ut etiam in suam fidem habere potestatem arbitretur
eum, qui temporalibus administrandis aliqua sublimitate præcellit, in
majorem errorem labitur. Sed modus iste servandus est, quem Dominus
ipse præcipit, ut reddamus _Cæsari quæ sunt Cesaris, et Deo quæ sunt
Dei_. Quamvis enim ad illud regnum vocati simus, ubi nulla erit
potestas hujusmodi, in hoc tamen itinere conditionem nostram pro ipso
rerum humanarum ordine debemus tolerare, nihil simulate facientes,
et in hoc non tam hominibus, quam Deo, qui hoc jubet, obtemperantes.
Itaque _omnis anima sit subdita sublimioribus potestatibus_, id est,
omnis homo sit subditus primum divinæ potestati, deinde mundanæ. Nam si
mundana potestas jusserit quod non debes facere, contemne potestatem,
timendo sublimiorem potestatem. Ipsos humanarum rerum gradus adverte.
Si aliquid jusserit procurator, nonne faciendum est? Tamen si contra
proconsulem jubeat, non utique contemnis potestatem, sed eligis majore
servire. Non hinc debet minor irasci, si major prælata est. Rursus si
aliquid proconsul jubeat, et aliud imperator, numquid dubitatur, illo
contempto huic esse serviendum. Ergo si aliud imperator, et aliud Deus
jubeat, quid faciemus? Numquid non Deus imperatori est præferendus?
Ita ergo _sublimioribus potestatibus anima_ subjiciatur, id est, homo.
Sive idcirco ponitur _anima_ pro homine, qui secundum hanc discernit,
cui subdi debeat, et cui non. Vel homo, qui promotione virtutem
sublimatus est, _anima_ vocatur a digniore parte. Vel, non solum
corpus sit subditum, sed _anima_, id est, voluntas: hoc est, non solum
corpore, sed et voluntate serviatis. Ideo debetis subjici, quia _non
est potestas nisi a Deo_. Numquam enim posset fieri nisi operatione
solius Dei, ut tot homines uni servirent, quem considerant unius
secum esse fragilitatis et naturæ. Sed quia Deus subditis inspirat
timorem et obediendi voluntatem, contigit ita. Nec valet quisquam
aliquid posse, _nisi_ divinitus ei _datum_ fuerit. _Potestas_ omnis
_est a Deo_. Sed ea _quæ sunt, a Deo ordinatæ sunt_. Ergo potestas est
ordinata, id est, rationabiliter a Deo disposita. _Itaque qui resistit
potestati_, nolens tributa dare, honorem deferre, et his similia, _Dei
ordinationi resistit_, qui hoc ordinavit, ut talibus subjiciamur. _Hoc
enim contra illos dicitur, qui se putabant ita debere uti libertate
Christiana, ut nulli vel honorem deferrent, vel tributa redderent._
Unde magnum poterat adversus _Christianam religionem scandalum nasci
a principibus seculi_. De bona potestate patet, quod eam perfecit
Deus rationabiliter. De mala quoque videri potest, dum et boni per
eam purgantur, et mali damnantur, et ipsa deterius præcipitatur.
_Qui potestati resistit_, cum Deus eam ordinaverit, _Dei ordinationi
resistit_. Sed hoc tam grave peccatum est, _quod qui resistunt, ipsi_
pro contumacia et perversitate _sibi damnationem_ æternæ mortis
acquirunt. Et ideo non debet quis resistere, sed subjici."
This remarkable passage contains all--the origin of power, its object,
its duties, and its limits. We must observe, that St. Anselm expressly
confirms what I have hinted in the text on the subject of the wrong
meaning sometimes given in the first centuries to Christian liberty;
many imagining that this liberty carried with it the abolition of the
civil powers, and particularly of those which were infidel. He also
shows the scandal which this doctrine might cause; thus explaining how
the Apostles, without attempting to attribute to the civil power any
extraordinary and supernatural origin, like that of the ecclesiastical
power, had nevertheless powerful reasons for inculcating that this
power emanates from God, and that whoever resists it, resists the
ordinance of God.
Passing on to centuries nearer our own time, we find the same doctrines
in the most eminent commentators. Cornelius a Lapide interprets the
passage of St. Paul in the same way as St. Anselm, and explains, by
the same reasons, the solicitude with which the Apostles recommended
obedience to the civil powers. These are his words:
"_Omnis anima_ (omnis homo) _potestatibus sublimioribus_, id est
principibus et magistratibus, qui potestate regendi et imperandi
sunt præditi; ponitur enim abstractum pro concreto; _potestatibus_,
hoc est potestate præditis, _subdita sit_, scilicet iis in rebus,
in quibus potestas illa sublimior et superior est, habetque jus et
jurisdictionem, puta in temporalibus, subdita sit regi et potestati
civili, quod propie hic intendit Apostolus: per potestatem enim,
civilem intelligit; in spiritualibus vero subdita sit Prælatis,
Episcopis et Pontifici.
"Nota.--Pro _potestatibus sublimioribus_, _potestatibus_
supereminentibus vel _præcellentibus_, ut, Noster vertit, 1 Pet. ii.,
_sive regi quasi præcellenti_, Syrus vertit, _potestatibus dignitate
præditis_: id est magistratibus secularibus, qui potestate regendi
præditi sunt, sive duces, sive gubernatores, sive consules, prætores,
&c.
"Seculares enim magistratus hic intelligere Apostolum patet, quia his
solvuntur tributa et vectigalia quæ hisce potestatibus solvi jubet ipse
v. 7, ita Sanctus Basilius de _Constit. Monast._ c. 23.
"Nota.--Ex Clemente Alexand. lib. iv. _Stromatum_, et S. Aug. in Psal.
cxviii. cont. 31, _Initio Ecclesiæ, puta tempore Christi et Pauli,
rumor erat, per Evangelium politias humanas, regna et respublicas
seculares everti_; uti jam fit ab hæreticis prætendentibus libertatem
Evangelii: unde contrarium docent, et studiose inculcant Christus,
cum solvit didrachma, et cum jussit Cæsari reddi ea quæ Cæsaris sunt;
et Apostoli: idque ne in odium traheretur Christiana religio, et ne
Christiani abuterentur libertate fidei ad omnem malitiam.
"Ortus est his rumor ex secta Judæ et Galilæorum de qua Actor. 5, in
fine, qui pro libertate sua tuenda omne dominium Cæsaris et vectigal,
etiam morte proposita abnuebant, de quo Josephus, libr. xviii.
_Antiqu._ 1. Quæ secta diu inter Judæos viguit; adeoque Christus et
Apostoli in ejus suspicionem vocati sunt, quia origine erant Galilæi,
et rerum novarum præcones. Hos Galilæos secuti sunt Judæi omnes, et
de facto Romanis rebellarunt: quod dicerent populum Dei liberum non
debere subjici et servire infidelibus Romanis; ideoque a Tito excisi
sunt. Hinc etiam eadem calumnia in Christianos, qui origine erant et
habebantur Judæi, derivata est: unde Apostoli, ut eam amoliantur, sæpe
docent principibus dandum esse honorem et tributum.
"Quare octo argumentis probat his Apostolus principibus et
magistratibus deberi obedientiam....
"His rationibus probat Apostolus Evangelium, et Christianismum, regna
et magistratus non evertere, sed firmare et stabilire: quia nil
regna et principes ita confirmat, ac subditorum bona, Christiana et
sancta vita. Adeo, ut etiam nunc principes Japones et Indi Gentiles
ament Christianos, et suis copiam faciant baptismi et Christianismi
suscipiendi, quia subditos Christianos, magis quam Ethnicos, faciles
et obsequentes, regnaque sua per eos magis firmari, pacari et florere
experiuntur."
With regard to the mode in which civil power proceeds from God, the
celebrated commentator agrees with the other theologians. Like them, he
distinguishes between direct and indirect communication, and takes care
to define the particular meaning of the term, _divine origin_ of power,
when applied to ecclesiastical authority.
In his explanation of these words, _all power is from God_, he thus
expresses himself:
"_Non est enim potestas, nisi a Deo_; quasi diceret principatus et
magistratus non a diabolo, nec a solo homine, sed a Deo ejusque divina
ordinatione et dispositione conditi et instituti sunt: eis ergo
obediendum est.
"Nota primo.--_Potestas sæcularis est a Deo mediate; quia natura et
recta ratio, quæ a Deo est, dicat, et hominibus persuasit præficere
reipublicæ magistratus, a quibus regantur. Potestas vero ecclesiastica
immediate est a Deo instituta; quia Christus ipse Petrum et Apostolos
Ecclesiæ præfecit._"
The celebrated Dom Calmet explains the same passage with no less
learning; he quotes numerous passages from the holy Fathers, showing
what ideas the first Christians held on the subject of civil power,
and how calumniously they have been accused of being the disturbers of
public order.
"_Omnis anima potestatibus_, &c. Pergit hic Apostolus docere Fideles
vitæ ac morum officia. Quæ superiori capite vidimus, eo desinunt, ut
bonus ordo et pax in Ecclesia interque Fideles servetur. Hæc potissimum
spectant ad obedientiam, quam unusquisque superioribus potestatibus
debet. Christianorum libertatem atque a Mosaicis legibus immunitatem
commendaverat Apostolus; at ne quis monitis abutatur, docet hic, quæ
debeat esse subditorum subjectio erga Reges et Magistratus.
"Hoc ipsum gravissime monuerant primos Ecclesiæ discipulos Petrus et
Jacobus; repetitque Paulus ad Titum scribens, sive ut Christianos,
insectantium injuriis undique obnoxios, in patientia contineret, _sive
ut vulgi opinionem deleret, qua discipuli Jesu Christi, omnes ferme
Galilæi, sententiam Judæ Gaulonitæ sequi, et principum authoritati
repugnare censebantur_.
"_Omnis anima_, quilibet, quavis conditione aut dignitate,
_potestatibus sublimioribus subdita sit_; Regibus, Principibus,
Magistratibus, iis denique quibus legitima est authoritas, sive
absoluta, sive alteri obnoxia. Neminem excipit Apostolus, non
Presbyteros, non Præsules, non Monachos, ait Theodoretus; illæsa tamen
Ecclesiasticorum immunitate. Tunc solum modo parere non debes, cum
aliquid Divinæ Legi contrarium imperatur: tunc enim præferenda est
debita Deo obedientia; quin tamen vel arma capere adversus Principes,
vel in seditionem abire liceat. Repugnandum est in iis tantum, quæ
justitiam, ac Dei legem violant; in cæteris parendum. Si imperaverint
aut idolorum cultum aut justitiæ violationem cum necis vel bonorum
jacturæ interminatione, vitam et fortunas discrimini objicito, ac
repugnato; in reliquis autem obtempera.
"_Non est enim potestas nisi a Deo._ Absolutissima in libertate
conditus est homo, nulli creatæ rei, at uni Deo subditus. Nisi mundum
invasisset una cum Adami transgressione peccatum, mutuam æqualitatem
libertatemque homines servassent. At libertate abusos damnavit Deus,
ut parerent iis, quos ipse principes illis daret, ob pœnam arrogantiæ,
qua pares Conditori effici voluerunt. At, inquies, quis nesciat,
quorumdam veterum Imperiorum initia et incrementa ex injuria atque
ambitione profecta. Nemrod, exempli causa, Ninus, Nabuchodonosor,
aliique quamplures, an Principes erant a Deo constituti? Nonne
similius vero est, violenta Imperia primum exorta esse ab imperandi
libidine? liberorum vero Imperiorum originem fuisse hominum metum, qui
sese impares propulsandæ externorum injuriæ sentientes, aliquem sibi
Principem creavere, datamque sibi a Deo naturalem ulciscendi injurias
potestatem, volentes libentesque alteri tradiderunt? Quam vere igitur
docet Apostolus, quamlibet potestatem a Deo esse, eumque esse positæ
inter homines authoritatis institutorem?"
He points out four ways in which power may be said to emanate from
God, and it is remarkable that none of them are extraordinary or
supernatural; all of them serve to confirm more and more what reason
and the very nature of things teach us.
"Omnino Deus potestatis autor et causa est. I. Quod, hominibus tacite
inspiraverit consilium subjiciendi se uni, a quo defenderentur.
II. Quod imperia inter homines utilissima sint servandæ concordiæ,
disciplinæ, ac religioni. Porro quicquid boni est, a Deo ceu fonte
proficisciter. III. Cum potestas tuendi ab aggressore vitam vel opes,
hominibus a Deo tradita, atque ab ipsis in Principem conversa, a Deo
primum proveniat, Principes ea potestate ab hominibus donati, hanc ab
ipso Deo accepisse jure dicuntur; quamobrem Petrus humanam creaturam
nuncupat, quam Paulus potestatem a Deo institutam: humana igitur et
divina est, varia ratione spectata, uti diximus. IV. Denique suprema
authoritas a Deo est, utpote quam Deus, a sapientibus institutam,
probavit.
"Nulla unquam gens sæcularibus potestatibus magis paruit, quam primæ
ætatis Christiani, qui a Christo Jesu et ab Apostolis edocti, nunquam
ausi sunt Principibus a Providentia sibi datis repugnare. Discipulos
fugere tantum jubet Christus. Ait Petrus, Christum nobis exemplum
reliquisse, cum sese Judicum iniquitate pessime agi passus est. Monet
hic Paulus, resistere te Dei voluntati, atque æternæ damnationis reum
effici, si potestati repugnas. 'Quamvis nimius et copiosus noster
populus, non tamen adversus violentiam se ulciscitur: patitur,' ait
sanctus Cyprianus. 'Satis virium est ad pugnam; at omnia perpeti
ex Christo didicimus. Cui bello non idonei, non prompti fuissemus,
etiam copiis impares, qui tam libenter trucidamur? si non apud istam
disciplinam magis occidi liceret, quam occidere,' inquit Tertullianus.
'Cum nefanda patimur, ne verbo quidem reluctamur, sed Deo remittimus
ultionem,' scribebat Lactantius. Sanctus Ambrosius: 'coactus, repugnare
non novi. Dolere potero, potero flere, potero gemere: abversus arma,
milites, Gothos quoque; lacrymæ meæ arma sunt. Talia enim sunt
munimenta Sacerdotis. Aliter ne debeo nec possum resistere.'"
I have said in the text, that there was to be remarked a singular
coincidence of opinions on the origin of society between the
philosophers of antiquity, deprived of the light of faith, and those of
our days who have abandoned this light; both wanting the only guide,
which is the Mosaic history, have found in their researches after the
origin of things, nothing more than chaos, in the physical as well as
in the moral order. In support of my assertion, I will insert passages
from two celebrated men, in which the reader will find, with very
little difference, the same language as in Hobbes, Rousseau, and other
writers of the same school.
"There was a time," says Cicero, "when men wandered in the fields like
the brutes, feeding on prey like wild beasts, deciding nothing by
reason, but every thing by force. No religion was then professed, no
morality observed; there were no laws of marriage; the father could not
distinguish his own children, and the possession of property by virtue
of principles of equity was unknown. Hence the blind, unrestrained
passions ruled tyrannically in the midst of error and ignorance, and
used the powers of the body for their gratification as their most
injurious satellites."
"Nam fuit quoddam tempus cum in agris homines passim bestiarum more
vagabantur, et sibi victu ferino vitam propagabant; nec ratione
animi quidquam, sed pleraque viribus corporis administrabant. Nondum
divinæ religionis, non humani officii ratio colebatur; nemo nuptias
viderat legitimas, non certos quisquam inspexerat liberos; non jus
æquabile quid utilitatis haberet, acceperat. Ita propter errorem atque
inscitiam, cæca ac temeraria dominatrix animi cupiditas ad se explendam
viribus corporis abutebatur, perniciosissimis satellitibus." (_De Inv.
1._)
The same doctrine is to be found in Horace:
"Cum prorepserunt primis animalia terris,
Mutum et turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilia propter
Unguibus et pugnis, dein fustibus, atque ita porro
Pugnabant armis, quæ post fabricaverat usus:
Donec verba, quibus voces sensusque notarent,
Nominaque invenere: dehinc absistere bello,
Oppida cœperunt munire et ponere leges,
Neu quis fur esset, neu latro, neu quis adulter.
Nam fuit ante Helenam mulier teterrima belli
Causa: sed ignotis perierunt mortibus illi,
Quos Venerem incertam rapientes, more ferarum,
Viribus editior cædebat, ut in grege taurus.
Jura inventa metu injusti fateare necesse est,
Tempora si fastosque velis evolvere mundi,
Nec natura potest justo secernere iniquum,
Dividit ut bona diversis, fugienda petendis."
_Satir._ lib. i. sat. 3.
"When men first began to crawl upon the earth, they were only like a
herd of brute and speechless animals, contending with their nails or
their fists for a few acorns or for a den. They afterwards contended
with sticks and such arms as experience taught them to invent. At
length they discovered the use of words to express their thoughts;
gradually they became weary of fighting, and built cities, and made
laws to prevent theft, robbery, and adultery; for, before Helen, women
had been the cause of terrible wars. He who was the strongest, abusing
his power, after the manner of brutes, attacked the weak, like a bull
among a subject herd; they thus contended for the favors of inconstant
Venus; but their end was inglorious. If you consult the origin of
things, you will acknowledge that laws have been made in apprehension
of injustice. Nature enables us to discern good from evil, what is to
be sought after from what is to be avoided, but she is incapable of
distinguishing justice from injustice."
NOTE 29, p. 311.
Concerning this question, as to the direct or indirect origin of civil
power, it is remarkable, that, in the time of Louis of Bavaria, the
imperial princes solemnly sanctioned the opinion that power emanates
directly from God. In an imperial Constitution, published against the
Roman Pontiff, they established the following proposition: "In order
to avoid so great an evil, we declare that imperial dignity and power
proceed directly from God.--Ad tantum malum evitandum, declaramus,
quod imperialis dignitas et potestas est immediate a Deo solo." That
we may form an idea of the spirit and tendency of this doctrine, let
us see what kind of man this Louis of Bavaria was. Excommunicated by
John XXII., and at a later period by Clement VI., he went so far as
to depose this latter Pontiff, in order to exalt to the Pontifical
Chair the antipope Peter, for which reason the Pope, after repeated
admonitions, divested him of his imperial dignity, substituting Charles
IV. in his stead.
Ziegler the Lutheran, a zealous supporter of direct communication, in
order to explain his doctrine, compares the election of a prince to
that of a minister of the Church. The latter, says he, does not receive
his spiritual authority from the people, but immediately from God. From
this explanation it is evident with how much reason I have said, that
such a doctrine tended to place the temporal and spiritual powers on a
level, by making it appear that the latter could not claim, by reason
of its origin, any superiority over the former. I do not mean, however,
to assert, that this declaration, made in the time of Louis of Bavaria,
had directly this aim, since it may rather be regarded as a sort of
weapon employed against the pontifical authority, the ascendency of
which was dreaded. But it is well known that doctrines, besides the
influence resulting immediately from them, possess a peculiar force,
which continues to develop itself as opportunities occur. Some time
after, we see the kings of England defenders of the religious supremacy
which they had just usurped, supporting the proposition advanced in the
imperial Constitution.
I know not with what foundation it can be said that Ziegler's opinion
was general before the time of Puffendorf; in consulting ecclesiastical
and secular writers, we do not find the least support for such an
assertion. Let us be just even to our adversaries. Ziegler's opinion,
defended by Boecler and others, was attacked by certain Lutherans,
amongst others by Boehmer, who observes, that this opinion is not
favorable, as its partisans pretend, to the security of states and
princes. To repeat what I have already explained in the text, I do
not consider that the opinion of _direct communication_, rightly
understood, is so inadmissible and dangerous as some have imagined; but
as it lay open to an evil interpretation, Catholic theologians have
done well to combat its tendency to encroach upon the divine origin of
ecclesiastical power.
NOTE 30, p. 317.
I might quote a thousand remarkable passages showing the reader how
unjust it is in the enemies of the clergy to accuse them of being
favorable to despotism. But, to be brief, and to spare him the fatigue
of perusing so many texts and quotations, I shall merely present to
him a specimen of the current opinions on this point in Spain at the
beginning of the 17th century, a few years after the death of Philip
II., the monarch who is represented to us as the personification of
religious fanaticism and political tyranny. Among the numerous books
published at that time on these delicate points, there is a very
singular one, which does not appear to be very well known; its title is
as follows:
_A Treatise on the State and Christian Politics, for the use of Kings
and Princes, and those holding government appointments, by Brother John
de Ste.-Marie, a religious in the province of St. Joseph, of the order
of our glorious Father St. Francis._
This book, printed at Madrid in 1615, furnished with all the
privileges, approbations, and other formalities in use, must have
been well received at that epoch, since it was reprinted at Barcelona
in 1616, by Sebastian de Cormellas. Who shall say whether this work
did not inspire Bossuet with the idea of that intituled _Politics
derived from the very words of Scripture_? The title is certainly
analogous, and the idea is in fact the same, although differently
carried out. "I think," says Brother John de Ste.-Marie, "I shall
escape all difficulty, by laying before kings in this work, not my
own reasonings, nor those afforded by eminent philosophers and the
records of profane history, but the words of God and His saints, and
the divine and canonical histories, whose teaching commands respect,
and whose authority cannot be prejudicial to any one, however powerful
a sovereign he may be; in fact, to these a Christian cannot but submit,
since every thing in them is dictated by the Holy Ghost, the author of
these divine maxims. If I cite examples of Gentile kings, if I appeal
to antiquity, and adduce passages from philosophers unconnected with
the people of God, I shall do so incidentally only, and as we resume
possession of what of right belongs to us, and has been unjustly
usurped by others." (Chap. 2.)
The work is dedicated to the king. Addressing him, and praying him to
read it, and not to allow himself to be imposed upon by those who would
dissuade him from its perusal, the good religious says, with a pleasing
candor, "Let no one tell you that these things are metaphysical,
impracticable, and all but impossible."
The following inscription is placed at the head of the 1st chapter:
"Ad vos (O Reges) sunt hi sermones mei, ut discatis sapientiam et non
excidatis: qui enim custodierint justa juste, justificabuntur: et qui
didiscerint ista, invenient quid respondeant." (_Sap._ 6, v. 10.)
In the first chapter, the title of which is, "A treatise in which the
import and definition of this word commonwealth are briefly discussed,"
we read these remarkable words: "So that monarchy must degenerate if
it be absolute and without restraint (for power and authority thus
become unreasonable); in all things falling under the cognizance of
law, it should be bound by the law; and in special and incidental
matters it should be subject to advice, from the connection which it
ought to have with the aristocracy, which is its assistant, and forms
a council of learned and powerful men. Without this wise modification,
monarchy will create great errors of government, will give but little
satisfaction, but, on the contrary, will cause great discontent among
the governed. The wisest and most enlightened men of every age have
invariably considered this form of government the best; and without
such a modification no city or kingdom has ever been considered well
governed. Good kings and the wisest statesmen have always been in favor
of this system; bad kings, on the contrary, elated by their power,
have pursued the opposite course. Hence, if a monarch, whoever he be,
decides by himself, without taking advice, or against the advice of his
councillors, he passes the legitimate bounds of monarchy, and even
when his decisions are fortunate, he is a tyrant. History is full of
these examples and of their disastrous consequences; it will be enough
to adduce one only, that of Tarquin the Proud, as related in the 1st
book of Livy, a king whose pride was unbounded, and who, to render
himself absolute, and to put every thing under his feet, strove to
weaken the authority of the Roman Senate by diminishing the number of
Senators, thus arrogating to himself an absolute right of decision in
all the affairs of the empire."
In chapter 2, in which the author treats of "the meaning of the word
king," we read as follows: "We meet here very opportunely with the
third meaning of the word king, which is the same as that of father;
as we find in Genesis, when the Sichemites gave to their king the
name of Abimelech, which means 'Father and Lord.' Kings were formerly
styled the fathers of their states. Whence King Theodoric, defining
royal majesty (as Cassiodorus relates), makes use of these words:
'_Princeps et Pastor publicus et communis._--The king is the public and
common father of the state.' From the extreme resemblance between the
office of a king and that of a father, Plato was induced to call the
king the father of a family; and the philosopher Xenophon says: _Bonus
Princeps nihil differt a bono Patre_. The difference solely consists
in one having few and the other a great number of persons under his
dominion. And it is certainly very reasonable to give kings this title
of father; for they ought to be the fathers of their subjects and of
their kingdoms, watching over their welfare and preservation with the
love and solicitude of a Father. Royalty, says Homer, is nothing else
than a paternal government, like that of a father over his children:
'_Ipsum namque regnum imperium est suapte natura paternum._' _The best
manner of governing well is, for the king to be possessed with the
love of a father, and to regard his subjects at his own children. The
love of a father for his children, his solicitude that they should
want for nothing, his devotedness to each of them, all this bears the
greatest resemblance to the love of a king for his subjects. He is
called father, and this name lays him under the obligation of acting in
accordance with the meaning it conveys._ This name, so well adapted to
kings, and which, when well considered, is the greatest of all titles
and epithets of majesty and power, since it embraces all, the genus and
the species, the father being alone the lord, the master, or the chief;
this name, I say, is above all human names for expressing authority
and solicitude. Antiquity, with a view to confer upon an emperor an
extraordinary degree of honor, called him the Father of the State,
which was greater than Cæsar, Augustus, or any other glorious name;
it decreed him this title, either to flatter him, or to lay him under
the weighty obligations required by the name of father. In fine, to
give kings this name is to remind them of their duty, viz. to direct,
govern, and maintain their states and kingdoms in justice; like good
pastors, to feed their rational sheep; like physicians, to care for
them and heal them; to take care of their subjects, as a father does of
his children, with prudence, love, and solicitude; for the king is for
_them_, rather than for himself. 'Kings are under greater obligations
to their kingdoms and states than to themselves;' in fact, if we
consider the institution of kings and monarchs, we shall find that the
king was appointed for the good of the kingdom, and not the kingdom for
the good of the king."
In his 3d chapter, of which the following is the title, "Whether
the name of king necessarily implies an office," he thus expresses
himself:--"Besides what we have advanced, it may be proved that the
name of a king is the name of an office, by the common maxim, 'the
benefice is the reward of the office.' Since, therefore, kings receive
such great benefices, not only from the considerable tributes they
receive from the State, but also from the advantage they derive from
benefices and ecclesiastical rents, they certainly do hold an office,
and that the greatest of all, for which reason the entire kingdom so
bountifully assists them. This is what St. Paul says in his Epistle to
the Romans: _Ideo et tributa præstatis_, &c. Kingdoms do not contribute
for nothing; all those states, taxes, and great revenues, that name,
that high authority and eminent dignity, are not given gratuitously.
They would have their title of king for nothing if they had no subjects
to rule and govern, and if they were freed from this obligation: _In
multitudine populi dignitas regis_. This great dignity, wealth, rank,
majesty, and honor, are possessed by them with the perpetual obligation
of ruling and governing their states, so as to preserve them in peace
and justice. _Let kings bear in mind, therefore, that they are only
invested with this title to serve their kingdoms; and the latter,
that kings ought to be paid._ They hold an office requiring them to
labor: _Qui præest in sollicitudine_, says St. Paul. Such is the title
and the name of king, and of him who rules: one who is the first not
only as regards honors and enjoyments, but also as regards cares and
solicitude. _Let them not imagine that they are kings merely in name
and representation, and appointed only to make themselves honored_;
merely to exhibit their royal person and sovereign dignity in a pompous
manner, like some of the kings of the Persians and Medes, who were
mere shadows of kings, forgetful of their office, as though they had
never received it. Nothing is more destitute of life and substance than
the shadowy image which stirs its arm or its head only when some one
acts upon it. God forbade the Israelites to have statues or painted
images, representing a hand where there was none, and a face that
did not exist, exhibiting to the eye an imaginary body, and feigning
by apparently living actions to see and to speak; for God loves not
feigned images, painted men, or sculptured kings, like those spoken of
by David: _Os habent et non loquentur, oculos habent et non videbunt_.
What does it avail to have a tongue that speaks not, eyes that see
not, ears that hear not, or hands which do not work? Is it any thing
more than an idol of stone, bearing only the external representation
of a king? To bear the supreme name and all authority, and not to be
capable of any thing, sounds badly. The names which God has given to
things are like the title of a book, which, in a few words, contains
every thing that is included in the book. This name of king was
given to kings by God himself, and contains every thing to which they
are obliged by virtue of their office. If their actions are not in
accordance with the name, it is as if the mouth should affirm what
the head denies, like a buffoon, whom no one believes in earnest.
Every one would regard as a mockery and a delusion a signboard bearing
the inscription, 'Pure gold sold here,' if, in reality, nothing but
tinsel was sold. The name of king should not be an empty thing, a mere
superfluity in the royal person--it should be what it implies and gives
itself out for. Your name indicates that you rule and govern; rule and
govern, therefore, in reality. Do not be mere pasteboard kings, to use
a common expression, that is, kings in name only. In France, there was
a time when kings had nothing but the name, and the government was
entirely in the hands of their generals, whilst they, like animals,
were occupied only with gluttony and luxurious living. That it might be
known they were living, for they never went out, they used to appear in
public once a year, on the 1st of May, in the squares of Paris, seated
on a throne, as kings in a dramatic representation, and there they
were saluted, gifts were presented to them, and they, on their part,
granted certain favors to whomsoever they thought proper. In order to
show to what a degree of degradation they had fallen, Eginard tells
us, in the beginning of his Life of Charlemagne, that they were devoid
of courage and incapable of great actions; they merely held the empty
name of king; for, in reality they were not kings, neither had they
any participation in the government or riches of the kingdom; every
thing was entrusted to the mayors of the palace, styled majors-domo
of the royal household; and the latter usurped every thing to such a
degree, that they left the wretched king nothing but his title. Seated
on his throne, with his long hair and beard, the monarch played his
part, pretending to give audiences to ambassadors arriving from all
parts, and to furnish them with answers to convey to their masters;
whilst in reality they merely answered according to the instructions
they had received, either by word or writing, although they appeared
to answer on their own responsibility. So that royal power for such a
king was reduced to the mere name, to this throne and this ridiculous
majesty; the real kings and masters were those favorites by whom the
monarch was oppressed. God said of one of the kings of Samaria, that
he was merely to be compared to a little vapor, which, seen from afar,
appeared something, but when touched was no longer any thing. Simia
in tecto rex fatuus in solio suo. (St. Bernard, _de Consider ad Eug._
cap. 7.) _A monkey on a housetop, which, presenting the appearance of
a man, is taken for such by those who know not what it is; such is a
useless king upon a throne. Monkeys also serve to amuse children, and
the king is a laughing-stock to him who looks upon him apart from any
royal act, invested with authority, and making no use of it. A king
dressed in purple, seated on a throne with great majesty, suited to his
grandeur, grave, severe, and terrible in appearance, but in reality
an absolute nonentity. Like a painting_ de la main du Greco, _which,
placed in an elevated position, and seen from a distance, looks very
beautiful, and produces a great effect, but when nearly approached is
but a rough sketch_. All pomp and majesty, properly considered, are
a mere sketch and shadow of a king. _Simulacra gentium_, says David,
speaking of kings who have nothing but the name; and according to the
Hebrew text: _Imago fictilis et contrita_. A figure of pounded earth,
crumbling on all sides; an empty phantom, great in appearance, but
a mere piece of deception. The name which Elifaz unjustly applied
to Job is perfectly applicable here, when he designated this good
and just king, a man void of foundation and substance, bearing only
external appearances; he styled him _Myrmicoleon_, that is, the name
of the animal which, in Latin, is called Formica-leo, because it is a
monstrous conformation, one half of its body, in fact, representing a
fearful lion, an animal always used as an emblem of a king, and the
other half an ant, that is, a most feeble and insignificant thing. Such
are the authority, the name, throne, and majesty of a fierce lion and
of a powerful monarch; but as regards the essence, you will find only
that of an ant. There have been kings whose very name filled the world
with terror; but these kings were void of substance in themselves, in
their kingdoms they were as mere ants; their names and offices were
very great, but without effect. Let the king, therefore, bear in mind
that he has an office to fulfill, and not only an office, but that
he is obliged to speak and labor on all offices, of which he is the
general superintendent. St. Augustine and St. Thomas, explaining that
passage of St. Paul which treats of episcopal dignity, say, that the
word _bishop_, in Greek, is composed of two roots signifying the same
thing as _superintendent_. The name of bishop, king, and every other
superior, are names signifying superintendence over, and co-operation
with, every office. This is what is expressed by the sceptre used by
kings in public acts, a ceremony used by the Egyptians, who borrowed
it from the Israelites. The latter, in order to point out the duty of
a good king, painted an open eye placed in an elevated position on
the point of a rod in the form of a sceptre, representing, on the one
hand, the great power of the king, the solicitude and vigilance which
he ought to exercise; on the other, that he ought not to be satisfied
with holding the supreme power, with occupying the most exalted and
most eminent position, and, in possession of these, passing his life in
sleep and repose; on the contrary, he should be the first in commanding
and counselling, he should appear in every office, incessantly watching
and inspecting, like a man doing the business in which he is engaged.
Jeremiah also understands it in this sense, for when God asked him what
he saw, he answered: _Virgam vigilantem ego video_. Thou hast seen
well; and verily I tell thee, that I who am supreme, will watch over my
flock; I who am a shepherd, will watch over my sheep; I who am a king
and a monarch, will watch without ceasing over all my inferiors. _Regem
festinantem_, says the Chaldean, a king who is in haste; for, although
he has eyes and sees, if he remains in repose, in his pleasures and
amusements, if he does not go about from place to place, if he does
not act so as to become acquainted with all the good and evil that is
going on in his kingdom, he is as though he did not exist. Let him
consider that he is the head, and even the head of the lion, which even
in its sleep keeps its eyes open; that he is the rod with eyes, that he
is the torch; let him open his eyes, therefore, and sleep no longer,
trusting to those who are blinded, and see no better than moles; who,
if they have eyes, only employ them to see their own interest, and to
distinguish at a greater distance what may conduce to their own profit
and aggrandizement. Such persons have eyes for themselves, and it would
be better if they had them not, for their eyes are those of birds of
prey--of vultures."
In his fourth chapter, the title of which is, "On the office of
kings," the author thus explains the origin of royal power and its
obligations:--"From this it follows," says he, "that the institution of
the state of royalty, or king, represented by the head, was not merely
for the use and profit of the king himself, but for that of his whole
kingdom. Hence he ought to see, hear, feel, and understand, not only by
himself and for himself, but by all and for all. He ought not merely
to fix his regards upon his own greatness, but on the good of his
subjects, since it is for them, and not for himself, that he was born
a king. _Adverte_, said Seneca to the Emperor Nero, _rempublicam non
esse tuam, sed te reipublicæ_.--When men first issued from solitude,
and united to live in common, they knew that every one would naturally
labor for himself or his own family, and that no one would take an
interest in all; they agreed to select a man of great merit, that all
might have recourse to him; a man who, distinguished above all the rest
by his virtue, his prudence, and courage, should be the chief over all,
should govern all, watch over all, and should exert himself for the
advantage of all--for the common weal--like a father for his children,
or a shepherd for his sheep. Now, considering that this man, abandoning
his own affairs to look after those of others, could not maintain
himself and his family (every one was then maintained by the labor of
his hands), it was agreed that all should contribute to his support,
in order that he might not be distracted by any other occupations
than those of the common weal and the public government. Such was the
end for which kings were instituted--such was their beginning. The
good king ought to be more solicitous for the public than for his own
private interest. He possesses his grandeur at the expense of great
solicitude; the anxiety, the disquietude of mind and body, which is
fatigue for him, is repose, support, and protection for others. Thus
smiling flowers and fruits, whilst they adorn the tree, exist not so
much for the tree, nor on account of the tree, as for the sake of
others. Do not imagine that all happiness is in the beauty and grace
of the flower, and in those who are the flowers of the world: powerful
kings and princes may be termed the flowers of the world, but flowers
who consume their lives, who are full of solicitude, and whose fruit
will rather contribute to the enjoyment of others than to their own.
'For,' says the Jew Philo, 'the king is to the kingdom what the wise
is to the ignorant man, what the shepherd is to his sheep, the father
to his children, light to darkness, and what God is upon earth to all
his creatures.' The investiture he gave to Moses, when he appointed him
the chief and king over his people, was to tell him that he ought to be
as God, the common father of all; for the office and dignity of a king
require all this. _Omnium domos illius vigila defendit, omnium otium
illius industria, omnium vacationem illius occupatio._ (Seneca, _Lib.
de Consol._) This is what the prophet Samuel says to Saul, recently
elected king, when he expounds to him the obligations of his office:
'Consider, Saul, that God has this day constituted thee king over all
this kingdom; thou art bound by the office to govern the whole of it.
Thou hast not been made a king to enjoy repose, to become proud, and to
glory in the dignity of a king; but to govern thy kingdom, to maintain
it in peace and justice, to defend and protect it against its enemies.'
_Rex eligitur, non, ut sui ipsius curam habeat_, says Socrates, _et
sese molliter curet, sed ut per ipsum ii, qui elegerunt, bene beateque
vivant_. They were not created and introduced into the world for their
own convenience and pleasure or to be fed upon every dainty morsel of
food (if such were the case, no one would willingly submit to them);
but they were appointed for the advantage and common good of all their
subjects, to govern them, protect them, enrich them, preserve and serve
them. All this is perfectly admissible; for although the sceptre and
crown appear to be the emblems of domination, the office of a king
is, strictly speaking, that of a slave. _Servus communis, sive servus
honoratus_, are words which have sometimes been applied to a king,
_quia a tota republica stipendia accipit ut serviat omnibus_. And
the Supreme Pontiff glories in this title, _Servus servorum Dei_. In
ancient times this name of slave was one of infamy; but since Christ
bore it it has become a name full of honor. Now, since it is neither
repugnant nor derogatory to the essence nor nature of the Son of God,
neither can it be derogatory to the nature and grandeur of the king.
"Antigonus, king of Macedon, was perfectly aware of this, and said
candidly to his son, when he rebuked him for the severity with which
he governed his subjects: _An ignoras, fili mi, regnum nostrum nobilem
esse servitutem?_ Before his time Agamemnon expressed himself in
the same manner: 'We live apparently in the midst of grandeur and
exaltation; but in reality we are the servants and slaves of our
subjects.' Such is the office of good kings--an honorable servitude.
From the moment of their being created kings, their actions no longer
depend upon their own will, but on the laws and rules which have been
given them, and on the conditions upon which they have undertaken their
office. And although they may fail to comply with these conditions
(which are the effects of a human convention), they may not fail to
comply with that dictated by natural and divine law, the mistress of
kings as well as of subjects. Now, these rules are almost all included
in the words of Jeremiah, which God, according to St. Jerome, addresses
to kings on giving them the command:--_Facite judicium et justitiam,
liberate vi oppressum de manu calumniatoris, et advenam, et pupillum,
et viduam nolite contristare, neque opprimatis inique, et sanguinem
innocentum non effundatis_. Such is the summary of the obligations
of a king; such the laws of his institution, which lay him under the
obligation of maintaining in peace and justice the orphan, the widow,
the poor, the rich and the powerful man, and him who can do nothing for
himself. Upon him rest the wrongs of his ministers towards some, the
injustice suffered by others, the sorrows of the afflicted, the tears
of those who weep, not to mention many other burdens--a flood of cares
and obligations--imposed upon every prince or chief of a state. For
if he is the head to command and govern, and to bear the burdens of
others, he should also be the feet upon which the whole weight of the
state is sustained. Kings and monarchs, says the holy man Job, as we
have seen, bear and carry the world upon their shoulders, on account
of their office. Hence the figure we meet with in the Book of Wisdom:
_In veste poderis, quam habebat summus sacerdos, totus erat orbis
terrarum_. From the moment a man is created king, let him consider
himself loaded with a burden so heavy that a strong carriage would
not support it. Moses felt this strongly; for God having made him His
viceroy, His captain-general, His lieutenant in the government, instead
of returning thanks for so distinguished a favor, he complains that
so heavy a burden should be placed upon him. _Cur afflixisti servum
tuum? Cur imposuisti pondus universi populi hujus super me?_ Again,
continuing his complaint, he says, _Numquid ego concepi omnem hanc
multitudinem? Aut genui eam, ut dicas mihi: Porta eos?_--'Lord, have
I conceived all this multitude, or begotten them, and thou shouldst
say to me, Carry them on thy shoulders?' Now, it is remarkable that
God said nothing of that to Moses; he merely tells him to rule and
govern them, to fulfill towards them the office of captain and chief.
Nevertheless, what says Moses? That God commanded him to bear them on
his shoulders--_Porta eos_. It appears, then, that he has no reason
to complain, since he is merely told to be the captain, to direct,
rule, and govern. It is a common expression, 'A word to the wise is
sufficient.' He who knows and understands what it is to govern and
to be the chief, knows also that government and obligation are the
same thing. The very words _regere_ and _portare_ are synonymous, and
have the same meaning: there is no government nor employment without
obligation and labor. In the distribution of the offices which Jacob
made among his children, he appointed Reuben to be the first in his
inheritance and the highest in command--_prior in donis, major in
imperio_. And St. Jerome translates _major ad portandum_, for command
and obligation are the same thing; and the obligation and the labor are
so much more considerable as the command is more exalted. St. Gregory,
in his _Morales_, says, that the power, domination, and rule of kings
over the whole world should not be looked upon as an honor but as a
labor. _Potestas accepta non honor, sed onus æstimatur._ And this truth
was ever received by the blindest among the Gentiles. One of them,
taking the same view of the subject, says, speaking of another Pagan,
that his god Apollo had made him all glorious and happy by the gift of
a certain office: _Lætus erat, mixtoque oneri gaudebat honore_. So that
power and command composed of a little honor and weighty obligations.
The Latin word for honor only differs from that for burden by one
letter--_onos_ and _onus_. Besides, there always were and always will
be persons willing to undertake the responsibility for the sake of
the honor, although every one avoids as much as possible any thing
that lays him under an obligation, and seeks after what is glorious; a
dangerous choice, for the latter is not always the most secure."
If such language is taxed with flattery, it would be difficult to
comprehend what is meant by _telling the truth_. And observe, that
the above truths are not told without reflection; the good religious
takes such pains to inculcate them, that were it not for the childlike
candor of his language, which discloses the purest of intentions, we
might accuse him of irreverence. This passage is long, but exceedingly
interesting, for it faithfully reflects the spirit of the age.
Innumerable other texts might be adduced to prove how unjustly the
Catholic clergy are accused of being favorable to despotism. I cannot
conclude without inserting here two excellent passages from the learned
Father Fr. Ferdinand de Zeballos, a religious of the order of St.
Jerome in the Monastery of St. Isidore del Campo, and known by a work
intituled, "False Philosophy, or Atheism, Deism, Materialism, and
other new sects convicted of State Crimes against their Sovereigns and
Rulers, against the Magistrates and Lawful Authorities." Madrid, 1776.
Observe with what tact the learned writer appreciates the influence of
religion upon society. (Book ii. dissertation 12, art. 2.)
"_A mild and moderate government is most agreeable to the spirit of
the gospel._
§ I.
"One excellent and estimable point in our holy religion is, that
she offers to human policy, in her important truths, assistance in
preserving good order among men with less trouble. 'The Christian
religion,' says Montesquieu, with much truth, 'is far removed from
pure despotism. Mildness being so strongly recommended in the gospel,
it is opposed to the despotic fury with which princes might administer
justice and practise cruelties.' This opposition on the part of
Christianity to the cruelty of the monarch should not be active,
but passive and full of mildness, which Christianity can never lose
sight of without losing its character. This is the difference between
Catholic Christians and the Calvinists and other Protestants. Basnages
and Jurieu, in the name of all their reformation, wrote that it is
allowable for the people to wage war against their princes whenever
they are oppressed by them, or their conduct appears tyrannical.
"The Catholic Church has never changed the doctrines she received from
Jesus Christ and His Apostles. She loves moderation, she rejoices in
good: but she does not resist evil, she overcomes it by patience.
Governments established under the direction of false religions cannot
be satisfied with a moderate policy. With them the despotism or tyranny
of princes, the ferocity of penalties, the rigor of an inflexible
and cruel legislation, are so many necessary evils. But why has it
been given to the Catholic religion only to purge human governments
from such inhumanity? First, on account of the forcible impression
produced by her dogmas; secondly, through the effect of the grace of
Jesus Christ, which renders men docile in doing good, and energetic
in combating evil. Wherever false religion predominates, and where,
in consequence, these two means of aid are wanting, the government is
under the necessity of supplying them as far as possible by efforts of
a severe, harsh, and terror-inspiring policy, in default of that virtue
which ought to exist in religion to restrain citizens.
"Hence the Catholic religion, by the influence of her dogmas over human
affairs, relieves governments from the necessity of being harsh. In
Japan, where the prevailing religion has no dogmas, and gives no idea
of heaven or hell, laws are made to supply this defect--laws rendered
useful by the cruelty with which they are conceived and the punctuality
with which they are executed. In every society in which deists,
fatalists, and philosophers have promulgated this error, that our
actions are unavoidable, it is impossible to prevent laws from becoming
more terrible and sanguinary than any we have known among barbarian
nations; for in such a society, men, after the manner of brutes, being
urged by palpable motives to do what they are commanded and omit what
they are forbidden, these motives, with chastisements, must be daily
more formidable, in order to avoid losing from habit the power of
making themselves felt. The Christian religion, which admirably teaches
and explains the dogmas of rational liberty, has no need of an iron
rod to govern mankind. The fear of the pains of hell, whether eternal,
to punish crimes unrepented of, or temporal, to wash away the stains
of sins confessed, relieves judges from the necessity of augmenting
punishments. On the other hand, the hope of gaining heaven, as a reward
for laudable actions, words, and thoughts, induces men to be just,
not only in public but also in the secrecy of the heart. What laws or
penalties would avail governments not possessed of this dogma of hell
and of glory, to make their citizens men of real merit? Materialists,
denying the dogma of a future state, and deists, holding out to the
wicked the flattering security of paradise, place governments under
the painful necessity of arming themselves with all the instruments
of terror, and of always inflicting the most cruel punishments, to
restrain the people from destroying one another.
"Protestants have already come to this point by rejecting the dogma
of the eternity of hell, or, at least, by preserving merely the fear
of a temporary pain. The first reformers, as d'Alembert observes to
the clergy of Geneva, denied the doctrine of purgatory, and retained
that of hell; but the Calvinists, and modern reformers, by their
limitation of the duration of hell, leave only what may be properly
termed purgatory. Is not the dogma of the last judgment, when each
one's secret offences, however small, shall be exposed to the whole
world, of singular efficacy in restraining the thoughts and desires,
and all the perversity of the heart and of the passions? It is evident
that this dogma so far relieves political governments from the painful
and continual vigilance which it would have to exercise over a town
in which the idea of this judgment has perished, together with the
thoughts which it inspires."
§ II.
"There are certain aberrations observable among philosophers,
which lead us to think that these men were possessed of some true
discernment in their lucid moments, or whilst they were in the Catholic
religion. Hence they have said, 'that religion was invented for a
political purpose, to spare sovereigns the necessity of being just,
of making good laws, and of governing well.' This folly, which stands
self-condemned when we come to speak of religion previously formed,
supposes, nevertheless, the truth we are speaking of. It is evident
to every one, even to the philosophers whose extravagant assertion
we have just adduced, that the Christian religion, by her dogmas, is
serviceable to human governments, and aids in making good citizens,
even in this world. Yet they avail themselves of this very point to put
forth their insane malice: but, in reality, and in spite of themselves,
they mean to say, that the dogmas of religion are of such service to
governments, and so efficacious in facilitating a great part of their
work, that they appear to be formed on purpose, and according to the
designs of a magistrate or a political government. We cannot say,
on this account, that religion alone is sufficient to govern men,
without any judicial aid, without the intervention of the laws and
of penalties. In speaking of this efficacy of the dogmas inculcated
by religion, we are not rash and presumptuous; we do not reject as
superfluous the office of law and police. We are told by the Apostle,
that for the just there would have been no need of laws; but there are
so many wicked, who, through their forgetfulness of their destiny and
the terrible judgments of God, live under the exclusive rule of their
passions, that it has been found necessary to make laws and institute
punishments, in order to restrain them. Hence, the Catholic religion
does not reject the wise vigilance of police, nor abrogate its office;
she seconds it, on the contrary, and receives assistance from it, to
the very great advantage of good governments; the people, through its
influence, are ruled better, and with less austerity and severity."
§ III.
"The second reason which renders the most mild and moderate governments
sufficient in Catholic States is, the assistance which the grace of
the gospel affords for doing good and avoiding evil,--an assistance
imparted by the use of the sacraments, or other means employed by the
Spirit from above. Without this, every law is harsh; this unction
softens every yoke, renders every burden light."
In his third article, Father Zeballos repels the accusation of
despotism with which the enemies of monarchy reproach it. On this
occasion he points out the just limits of royal authority, and
overthrows an argument which some persons have pretended to found on
the Scriptures, for the exaggeration of the prerogatives of the throne.
He expresses himself as follows:
"When the objection, that the sovereign had the power of seizing the
property of every citizen, was made against monarchy, it was rather
an argument against the nature of despotism than against the form
of monarchical government. 'What does it avail,' says Theseus in
Euripides, 'to amass riches for our heirs, to bring up our daughters
with care, if we are to be deprived of the greater portion of these
riches by a tyrant, if our daughters are to serve the most unruly
passions?' You perceive, then clearly, that in pretending to argue
against the office of a monarch, it is a tyrant only that is spoken
of. True, the frequent abuse of power resorted to by kings has caused
these names and forms to be confounded. Others have already observed
that the ancients were scarcely acquainted with the nature of true
monarchy; this was very natural, since they never witnessed any thing
but the abuse of it. This gives me the opportunity of making a remark
upon the circumstance of the Hebrews asking to be governed by kings.
'Make us a king to judge us, as all nations have,' said they to the
prophet. Samuel saw with grief this levity, which was about to cause
a total revolution in the government appointed by God. Nevertheless,
God commands the prophet to take no notice of this affront, which was
principally offered to the Lord; for they were abandoning Him, being
unwilling that He should rule over them any longer. 'As they have
forsaken Me, and served strange gods, so do they also unto thee,' and
ask for kings like unto those of the nations. Observe what an intimate
connection always exists between a change of government and a change in
religion, especially when the change is from a true to a false one.
"But what is particularly deserving of notice is, the acquiescence
granted to the people's demand. They wish to be ruled by kings, exactly
as all other nations were. The Lord chastises their spirit of revolt by
leaving them to their desires. He commands Samuel to comply with their
request, but to point out to them, at the same time, _the rights of the
king_ who was to rule over them like unto the nations, and said: 'This
will be the right of the king that shall reign over you: he will take
your sons, and will put them in his chariots, and will make them his
horsemen, and his running footmen, to run before his chariots; and he
will appoint them to be his tribunes, and his centurions, and to plough
his fields, and to reap his corn, and to make him arms and chariots.
Your daughters also will he take to make him ointments, and to be his
cooks and bakers; and he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and
your best olive-yards, and give them to his servants. Moreover, he will
take the tenth of your corn, and of the revenues of your vineyards, to
give to his eunuchs and servants. Your servants also, and hand-maids,
and your goodliest young men, and your asses, he will take away, and
put them to his work. Your flocks also he will tithe, and you shall be
his servants; and you shall cry out in that day from the face of the
king whom you have chosen to yourselves; and the Lord will not hear you
in that day, because you desired unto yourselves a king. And the people
would not hear the voice of Samuel, and they said, Nay, but there shall
be a king over us, and we also will be like all nations.' (1st Kings,
chap. viii., from verse 11 to middle of verse 20 inclusively.)
"Some persons, being determined to extend the power of kings beyond
its limits, draw from these words the formula of royal right. A blind
pretension, and reflecting little honor on legitimate monarchs such as
the Catholic sovereigns. Unless a person wishes knowingly to deceive
himself on this portion of the Scripture, or is blind, he may see by
the context, and by comparing this passage with others, that it is not
legitimate right that is here meant, but _de facto_ right. I mean to
say, that the Holy Spirit does not explain what just monarchs ought to
do; but what had been done, and was still done, by the kings of Pagan
nations, mere tyrants, and commonly so called. Observe, that the people
demanded nothing but to be placed on an equality with the Pagan nations
in a political point of view. They had not the prudence to demand a
king such as he ought to be, but such as was common in those days; and
this was what God granted them. If God, as the prophet observes, has
sometimes given the people kings in His wrath, what people were more
deserving of this than those who had abandoned God himself, and refused
to be ruled by Him? Indeed, God did chastise His people severely by
granting them their foolish demand. He did give them a king, but a
king who was to exercise what, according to the perverse custom of the
times, formed the royal right described in the sacred text just quoted.
"What man in our days, conversant with what has been written upon
the different natures of governments, upon their abuse, and without
even understanding what is said in the Scriptures, could imagine that
the text of Samuel contains the legitimate form of royalty or of
monarchy? Does this power impart the right of seizing the property of
the subjects, their lands, their riches, their sons and daughters,
and even their natural liberty? Is this the model of a monarchy, or
of the most tyrannical despotism? To dispel every illusion on this
point, we need only compare with what we have just read the 21st
chap. of the third Book of Kings, in which the history of Naboth, an
inhabitant of Jezrael, is narrated. Achab, the king of Israel, wished
to enlarge the palace, or pleasure-house which he possessed in that
town. A vineyard of Naboth's, near the palace, came within the plan of
the gardens that were to be added. The king did not seize it at once,
of his own authority, but asked the proprietor to let him have it on
the honest condition of paying him the price at which he should value
it, or giving him a better in another place. Naboth would not consent
to this, because it was the inheritance of his ancestors. The king,
not being accustomed to meet with a refusal, threw himself upon his
couch oppressed with grief; the queen, Jezabel, came, and told him to
calm his agitation: 'Thy authority is great indeed,' said she to him;
_Grandis authoritatis es_: she promises to put him in possession of
the vineyard. This abominable woman wrote to the judges of Jezrael to
commence an action against Naboth for a calumny, to be proved against
him by two suborned witnesses; and she demanded that he should be
condemned to death. The queen was obeyed; Naboth was stoned to death.
All this was necessary that the vineyard might enter into the royal
treasury, and that, watered by the blood of the proprietor, it might
produce flowers for the palace of these princes. But, in reality, it
produced none, neither for the king nor for the queen; it furnished
them with nothing but briars and mortal poisons. Elias presents himself
before Achab when he was going to take possession of Naboth's vineyard;
he announces to him that he, and all his house, even to the dog that
approacheth the wall, shall be erased from the face of the earth.
"You look upon royal right as explained to the people by Samuel as
legitimate; tell me, then why Achab and Jezabel are so severely
punished for taking the vineyard and the life of Naboth, _since
the king had a right to take from his subjects their most valuable
vineyards and olive trees_, according to the declaration of the
prophet. If Achab possesses this right after he is established the king
of the people of God, whence comes it that he, so violent a prince,
should entreat Naboth with so much civility? And why is it necessary
to accuse Naboth of some calumny? His resistance to the king's right,
by refusing to accept the just value of what was suitable to the
enlargement of the palace and gardens, would have been a sufficient
motive for instituting an action against him. We find, however, that
Naboth committed no injustice against the king by refusing to sell his
patrimony, not even in the estimation of the queen, who boasted of
her husband's _great authority_. This great authority, which Jezabel
admitted in the king, was neither more nor less than the royal right
spoken of by Samuel to the people; it was, as I have said, a _de facto_
right to take and seize upon every thing by mere force, as Montesquieu
says of the tyrant.
"_Do not therefore, mention this passage, nor any other of the
Scriptures, to justify the idea of a government so ill-conceived. The
doctrine of the Catholic religion is attached to legitimate monarchy,
with its suitable characteristics, and in accordance with the qualities
which modern publicists recognise, viz. as a paternal and sovereign
power, but conformable to the fundamental laws of the state. Within
limits so suitable, nothing can be more regular than this power, the
most extensive of all temporal powers, and that which is most favored
and supported by the Catholic Church._"
Such is the horrible despotism taught by these men so basely
calumniated! Happy the people who are ruled by a prince whose
government is regulated by these doctrines!
NOTE 31, p. 330.
The importance of the matter treated of in this part of my work obliges
me to insert here, at some length, passages proving the truth of what
I have advanced. I did not think it advisable to give a translation
of the Latin passages, that I might avoid augmenting excessively the
number of pages; besides, among the persons who may wish to make
themselves thoroughly acquainted with the subject, and who will
consequently take an interest in consulting the original texts, there
are few ignorant of the Latin language.
Observe how St. Thomas expresses himself on royal power, and with what
solid and generous doctrine he points out its duties in the third book,
chap. 11, of his treatise _De Regimine Principum_.
DIVUS THOMAS.
"_De Regimine Principum_, liber iii. caput XI.
"Hic Sanctus Doctor declarat de dominio regali, in quo consistit, et in
quo differt a politico, et quo modo distinguitur diversimodo secundum
diversas rationes.
"Nunc autem ad regale dominium est procedendum, ubi est distinguendum
de ipso secundum diversas regiones, et prout a diversis varie invenitur
traditum. Et primo quidem, in Sacra Scriptura aliter leges regalis
dominii traduntur in Deuteronomio per Moysen, aliter in 1 Regum
per Samuelem prophetam, uterque tamen in persona Dei differenter
ordinat regem ad utilitatem subditorum, quod est proprium regum,
ut Philosophus tradit in 8 ethic. Cum, inquit, constitutus fuerit
rex, non multiplicabit sibi equos, nec reducet populum in Ægyptum,
equitatus numero sublevatus, non habebit uxores plurimas, quæ alliciant
animam ejus, neque argenti, aut auri immensa pondera: quod quidem
qualiter habet intelligi, supra traditur in hoc lib. describetque sibi
Deuteronomium legis hujus, et habebit secum, legetque illud omnibus
diebus vitæ suæ, ut discat timere dominum Deum suum, et custodire verba
ejus et cæremonias, et ut videlicet possit populum dirigere secundum
legem divinam, unde et rex Salomon in principio sui regiminis hanc
sapientiam a Deo petivit, ad directionem sui regiminis pro utilitate
subditorum, sicut scribitur in 3 lib. Regum. Subdit vero dictus Moyses
in eodem lib. Nec elevetur cor ejus in superfluum super fratres suos,
neque declinet in partem dexteram, vel sinistram, ut longo tempore
regat ipse et filius ejus super Israel. Sed in primo Regum, traduntur
leges regni, magis ad utilitatem Regis, ut supra patuit in lib. 2
hujus operis, ubi ponuntur verba omnino pertinentia ad conditionem
servilem, et tamen Samuel leges quas tradit cum sint penitus despoticæ
dicit esse regales. Philosophus autem in 8 ethic. magis concordat cum
primis legibus. Tria enim ponit de rege in eo. 4, videlicet, quod
ille legitimus est rex qui principaliter bonum subditorum intendit.
Item, ille rex est, qui curam subditorum habet, ut bene operentur
quemadmodum pastor ovium. Ex quibus omnibus manifestum est, quod juxta
istum, modum despoticum multum differat a regali, ut idem Philosophus
videtur dicere in 1 politic. Item, _quod regnum non est propter regem,
sed rex propter regnum_, quia ad hoc Deus _providit de eis, ut regnum
regant et gubernent, et unumquemque in suo jure conservent_: et hic
est _finis regiminis, quod si ad aliud faciunt in seipsos commodum
retorquendo, non sunt reges sed tyranni_. Contra _quos dicit Dominus
in Ezech_. Væ pastoribus Israel, qui pascunt semetipsos. Nonne greges
pascuntur a pastoribus? Lac comedebatis, et lanis operiebamini, et
quod crassum erat occidebatis: gregem autem meum non pascebatis: quod
infirmum fuit, non consolidastis, et quod ægrotum non sanastis, quod
confractum non alligastis, quod abjectum non reduxistis, et quod
perierat non quæsistis; sed cum austeritate imperabatis eis et cum
potentia. In quibus verbis nobis sufficienter forma regiminis traditur
redarguendo contrarium. Amplius autem regnum ex hominibus constituitur,
sicut domus ex parietibus, et corpus humanum ex membris, ut Philos.
dicit in 3 politic. Finis _ergo regis est, ut regimen prosperetur,
quod homines conserventur per regem_. Et hinc habet commune bonum
cujuslibet principatus participationem divinæ bonitatis: unde bonum
commune dicitur a Philosopho in 1 ethic. esse quod omnia appetunt,
et esse bonum divinum, _ut sicut Deus qui est rex regum, et dominus
dominantium, cujus virtute principes imperant, ut probatum est supra,
nos regit et gubernat non propter seipsum, sed propter nostram salutem:
ita et reges faciant et alii dominatores in orbe_."
NOTE 32, p. 336.
I have noticed the opinion of D. Felix Amat, Archbishop of Palmyra,
with respect to the obedience due to _de facto_ governments. I have
remarked, that this writer's principles, besides being false, are
opposed to the rights of the people. The Archbishop of Palmyra appears
to have been at a loss to discover a maxim to which it is possible to
conform under all circumstances that may occur, and which do occur but
too often. He dreaded the obscurity and confusion of ideas when the
legitimacy of a given case was to be defined; he wished to remedy an
evil, but he appears to have aggravated it to an extraordinary degree.
Observe how he sets forth his opinion in his work entitled _Idea of the
Church Militant_, chap. iii. art. 2:
"The more I reflect," says he, "on the difficulties I have just pointed
out, the more I am convinced that it is impossible to resolve them,
even those which are ancient, with any degree of certainty; and it is
equally impossible to derive any light from them to aid us in resolving
those which are formed at the present day by the struggle between the
prevailing spirit of insubordination in opposition to the judgment and
will of the governor, and the contrary effort made to limit more and
more the liberty of those who obey. Starting from the divers points
and notions that I have laid down relative to the supreme power in all
really civil societies, it appears to me, that, instead of losing time
in mere speculative discussions, it will be more useful to propose a
practical, just, and opportune maxim for the preservation of public
tranquillity, especially in Christian kingdoms and states, and for
affording the means of re-establishing it when it has been troubled or
destroyed.
"The _Maxim_.--No one can doubt the legitimacy of the obligation of
every member of any civil society whatever to obey the government which
is de facto and unquestionably established. I say '_unquestionably
established_,' because there is here no question of a mere invasion
or temporary occupation in time of war. From this maxim follow two
consequences: 1st, to take part in insurrections, or assemblages of
people, addressing themselves to the constituted authorities with a
view to compel them to grant what they consider unjust, is always an
act contrary to right reason; always unlawful, condemned by the natural
law and by the Gospel. 2dly, individual members of society, who combine
together and take up arms, in small or large numbers, for the purpose
of attacking the established government by physical force, are always
guilty of rebellion, a crime strongly opposed to the spirit of our
divine religion."
I will not here repeat what I have already said on the unsoundness,
the inconveniences, and the dangers of such a doctrine, but merely
add, that with respect to governments only established _de facto_, to
grant them the right of commanding and exacting obedience involves a
contradiction. To say that a _de facto_ government is bound, whilst
it does exist, to protect justice, to avoid crimes, to prevent the
dissolution of society, is merely to maintain truths universally
admitted, and denied by no one; but to add, that it is unlawful, and
contrary to our holy religion, to combine together and raise forces for
the overthrow of a _de facto_ government, is a doctrine which Catholic
theologians have never professed, which true philosophy has never
admitted, and which no nation has ever observed.
NOTE 33, p. 343.
I insert here certain remarkable passages from St. Thomas and Suarez,
in which these authors explain the opinions to which I have alluded in
the text, respecting the differences which may arise between governors
and the governed. I refer to what I have already pointed out in another
place; we are not about to examine so much whether such or such
doctrines are true, as to discover what were the doctrines at the time
we are speaking of, and what opinion the most distinguished doctors
formed on the delicate questions of which we are treating.
D. THOMAS.
(2. 2. Q. 42. art. 2^o ad tertium.--Utrum seditio sit semper peccatum
mortale?)
3. Arg. Laudantur qui multitudinem a potestate tyrannica liberant, sed
hoc non de facili potest fieri sine aliqua dissensione multitudinis,
dum una pars multitudinis nititur retinere tyrannum, alia vero nititur
eum abjicere, ergo seditio potest fieri sine peccato.
Ad tertium dicendum; quod regimen tyrannicum non est justum quia
non ordinatur ad bonum commune, sed ad bonum privatum regentis ut
patet per Philosophum; et ideo perturbatio hujus regiminis non habet
rationem seditionis, nisi forte quando sic inordinate perturbatur
tyranni regimen, quod multitudo subjecta majus detrimentum patitur
ex perturbatione consequenti quam ex tyranni regimine; magis autem
tyrannus seditiosus est, qui in populo sibi subjecto discordias et
seditiones nutrit, ut tutius dominari possit; hoc enim tyrannicum est,
cum sit ordinatum ad bonum proprium præsidentis cum multitudinis
nocumento.
Cardinalis Cayetanus in hunc textum. "Quis sit autem modus ordinatus
perturbandi tyrannum et qualem tyrannum, puta secundum regimen tantum,
vel secundum regimen et titulum, non est præsentis intentionis: sat est
nunc, quod utrumque tyrannum licet ordinate perturbare absque seditione
quandoque; illum ut bono reipublicæ vacet, istum ut expellatur."
LIB. I.
_De Regimine Principum._ (Cap. x.)
Quod rex et princeps studere debet ad bonum regimen propter bonum sui
ipsius, et utile quod inde sequitur, cujus contrarium sequitur regimen
tyrannicum.
Tyrannorum vero dominium diuturnum esse non potest, cum sit multitudini
odiosum. Non potest enim diu conservari, quod votis multorum repugnat.
Vix enim a quoquam præsens vita transigitur quin aliquas adversitates
patiatur. Adversitatis autem tempore occasio deesse non potest
contra tyrannum insurgendi; et ubi adsit occasio, non deerit ex
multis vel unus qui occasione non utatur. Insurgentem autem populus
votive prosequitur: nec de facili carebit effectu, quod cum favore
multitudinis attentatur. Vix ergo potest contingere, quod tyranni
dominium protendatur in longum. Hoc etiam manifeste patet, si quis
consideret unde tyranni dominium conservatur. Non n. conservatur amore,
cum parva, vel nulla sit amicitia subjectæ multitudinis ad tyrannum
ut ex præhabitis patet: de subditorum autem fide tyrannis confidendum
non est. Non n. invenitur tanta virtus in multis, ut fidelitatis
virtute reprimantur, ne indebitæ servitutis jugum, si possint,
excutiant. Fortassis autem nec fidelitati contrarium reputabitur
secundum opinionem multorum, si tyrannicæ nequitiæ qualitercumque
obvietur. Restat ergo ut solo timore tyranni regimen sustentetur; unde
et timeri se a subditis tota intentione procurant. Timor autem est
debile fundamentum. Nam qui timore subduntur, si occurrat occasio qua
possint impunitatem sperare, contra præsidentes insurgunt eo ardentius,
quo magis contra voluntatem ex solo timore cohibebantur. Sicut si
aqua per violentiam includatur, cum aditum invenerit, impetuosius
fluit. Sed nec ipse timor caret periculo, cum ex nimio timore plerique
in desperationem inciderint. Salutis autem desperatio audacter ad
quælibet attentanda præcipitat. Non potest igitur tyranni dominium esse
diuturnum. Hoc etiam non minus exemplis, quam rationibus apparet.
LIB. I. CAP. VI.
Conclusio; quod regimen unius simpliciter sit optimum; ostendit
qualiter multitudo se debet habere circa ipsum, quia auferenda est ei
occasio ne tyrannizet, ei quod etiam in hoc est tolerandus propter
majus malum vitandum.
Quia ergo unius regimen præ eligendum est, quod est optimum, et
contingit ipsum in tyrannidem converti, quod est pessimum, ut ex dictis
patet, laborandum est diligenti studio, ut sic multitudini provideatur
de rege, ut non incidat in tyrannum. Primum autem est necessarium,
ut talis conditionis homo ab illis ad quos hoc spectat officium,
promoveatur in regem, quod non sit probabile in tyrannidem declinare.
Unde Samuel Dei providentiam erga institutionem regis commendans, ait,
1 Regum xiii.: Quæsivit sibi Dominus, virum secundum cor suum: deinde
sic disponenda est regni gubernatio, ut regi jam instituto tyrannidis
subtrahatur occasio. Simul etiam sic ejus temperetur potestas, ut
in tyrannidem de facili declinare non possit. Quæ quidem ut fiant,
insequentibus considerandum erit. Demum vero curandum est, si rex
in tyrannidem diverteret, qualiter posset occuri. Et quidem si non
fuerit excessus tyrannidis, utilius est remissam tyrannidem tolerare
ad tempus, quam tyrannum agendo multis implicari periculis, quæ sunt
graviora ipsa tyrannide. Potest, n. contingere ut qui contra tyrannum
agunt prævalere non possint, et sic provocatus tyrannus magis desæviat.
Quod si prævalere quis possit adversus tyrannum, ex hoc ipso proveniunt
multoties gravissimæ dissensiones in populo, sive dum in tyrannum
insurgitur, sive post dejectionem tyranni erga ordinationem regiminis
multitudo separatur in partes. Contingit etiam ut interdum dum
alicujus auxilio multitudo expellit tyrannum, ille potestate accepta
tyrannidem arripiat, et timens pati ab alio quod ipse in alium fecit,
graviori servitute subditos opprimat. Sic enim in tyrannide solet
contingere, ut posterior gravior fiat quam præcedens, dum præcedentia
gravamina non deserit, et ipse ex sui cordis malitia nova excogitat:
unde Syracusis quondam Dyonisii mortem omnibus desiderantibus, anus
quædem ut incolumnis et sibi superstes esset, continue orabat: quod
ut tyrannus cognovit, cur hoc faceret interrogavit. Tum illa, puella,
inquit, existens cum gravem tyrannum haberemus, mortem ejus cupiebam,
quo interfecto, aliquantulum durior successit; ejus quoque dominationem
finiri magnum existimabam, tertium te importuniorem habere cœpimus
rectorem; itaque si tu fueris absumptus, deterior in locum tuum
succedet. Et si sit intolerabilis excessus tyrannidis, quibusdam visum
fuit, ut ad fortium virorum virtutem pertineat tyrannum interimere,
seque pro liberatione multitudinis exponere periculis mortis: cujus
rei exemplum etiam in veteri Testamento habetur. Nam Ajoth quidam
Eglon regem Moab, qui gravi servitute populum Dei premebat, sica
infixa in ejus femore interemit, et factus est populi judex. Sed hoc
Apostolicæ doctrinæ non congruit. Docet n. nos Petrus, non bonis
tantum et modestis, verum etiam discolis Dominis reverenter subditos
esse. 2 Petr. ii. Hæc est enim gratia, si propter conscientiam Dei
sustineat quis tristitias patiens injuste: unde cum multi Romani
Imperatores fidem Christi persequerentur tyrannice, magnaque multitudo
tam nobilium, quam populi esset ad fidem conversa, non resistendo, sed
mortem patienter et armati sustinentes pro Christo laudantur, ut in
sacra Thebæorum legione manifeste apparet; magisque Ajoth judicandus
est hostem interemisse, quam populi rectorem, licet tyrannum; unde
et in veteri Testamento leguntur occisi fuisse hi qui occiderunt
Joas regem Juda, quamvis a cultu Dei recedentem, eorumque filiis
reservatis secundum legis præceptum. Esset autem hoc multitudini
periculosum et ejus rectoribus, si privata præsumptione aliqui
attentarent præsidentium necem etiam tyrannorum. Plerumque enim
hujusmodi periculis magis exponunt se mali quam boni. Malis autem solet
esse grave dominium non minus regum quam tyrannorum, quia secundum
sententiam Salomonis: Dissipat impios rex sapiens. Magis igitur ex
hujus præsumptione immineret periculum multitudini de amissione regis,
quam remedium de subtractione tyranni. Videtur autem magis contra
tyrannorum sævitiam non privata præsumptione aliquorum, sed auctoritate
publica procedendum. Primo quidem, si ad jus multitudinis alicujus
pertineat sibi providere de rege, non injuste ab eadem rex institutus
potest destitui, vel refrænari ejus potestas, si potestate regia
tyrannice abutatur. Nec putanda est talis multitudo infideliter agere
tyrannum destituens, etiamsi eidem in perpetuo se ante subjecerat:
quia hoc ipse meruit in multitudinis regimine se non fideliter gerens,
ut exigit regis officium, quod ei pactum a subditis non reservetur.
Sic Romani Tarquinium superbum quem in regem susceperant, propter
ejus et filiorum tyrannidem a regno ejecerunt substituta minori,
scilicet consularia potestate. Sic etiam Domitianus, qui modestissimis
Imperatoribus Vespasiano patri, et Tito fratri ejus successerat, dum
tyrannidem exercet, a senatu Romano interemptus est, omnibus quæ
perverse Romanis fecerat per Senatusconsultum juste et salubriter
in irritum revocatis. Quo factum est, ut beatus Joannes Evangelista
dilectus Dei discipulus, qui per ipsum Domitianum in Pathmos insulam
fuerat exilio relegatus, ad Ephesum per Senatusconsultum remitteretur.
Si vero ad jus alicujus superioris pertineat multitudini providere
de rege, spectandum est ab eo remedium contra tyranni nequitiam. Sic
Archelai, qui in Judæa pro Herode patre suo regnare jam cœperat,
paternam malitiam imitantis, Judæis contra eum querimoniam ad Cesarem
Augustum deferentibus, primo quidem potestas diminuitur, ablato sibi
regio nomine, et medietate regni sui inter duos fratres suos divisa:
deinde cum nec sic a tyrannide compesceretur a Tiberio Cesare relegatus
est in exilium apud Lugdunum Galliæ civitatem. Quod si omnino contra
tyrannum auxilium humanum haberi non potest, recurrendum est ad regem
omnium Deum, quid est adjutor in opportunitatibus in tribulatione.
Ejus enim potentiæ subest, ut cor tyranni crudele convertat in
mansuetudinem, secundum Salomonis sententiam. Proverb. xii. Cor regis
in manu Dei quocumque voluerit inclinavit illud. Ipse enim regis
Assueri crudelitatem, qui Judæis mortem parabat, in mansuetudinem
vertit. Ipse est qui ita Nabuchodonosor, crudelem regem convertit,
quod factus est divinæ potentiæ prædicator. Nunc igitur, inquit, ego
Nabuchodonosor laudo, et magnifico, et glorifico regem cœli, quia
opera ejus vera et viæ ejus judicia, et gradientes in superbia potest
humiliare. Dan. iv. Tyrannos vero quos reputat conversione indignos,
potest auferre de medio vel ad infimum statum reducere, secundum
illud Sapientes Eccles. x. Sedem ducum superborum destruxit Deus, et
sedere fecit mites pro eis. Ipse enim qui videns afflictionem populi
sui in Ægypto, et audiens eorum clamorem Pharaonem tyrannum dejecit
cum exercitu suo in mare; ipse est qui memoratum Nabuchodonosor prius
superbientem non solum ejectum de regni solio, sed etiam de hominum
consortio, in similitudinem bestiæ commutavit. Nec enim abreviata manus
ejus est, ut populum suum a tyrannis liberare non possit. Promittit
enim populo suo per Isaiam, requiem se daturum a labore et confusione,
ac servitute dura, qua ante servierat, et per Ezech. xxxiv. dicit:
Liberabo meum gregem de ore eorum pastorum, qui pascunt seipsos. Sed
ut, hoc beneficium populus a Deo consequi mereatur, debet a peccatis
cessare, quia in ultionem peccati divina permissione impii accipiunt
principatum, dicente Domino per Osee xiii.: Dabo tibi regem in furore
meo, et in Job. xxxiv. dicitur, quod regnare facit hominem hypocritam
propter peccata populi. Tollenda est igitur culpa, ut cesset a
tyrannorum plaga.
SUAREZ.
(Disp. 13. De Bello. sect. 8.--Utrum seditio sit intrinsece mala?)
Seditio dicitur bellum commune intra eamdem Rempublicam, quod geri
potest, vel inter duas partes ejus, vel inter Principem et Rempublicam.
Dico primo: Seditio inter duas partes Reipublicæ semper est mala ex
parte aggressoris: ex parte vero defendentis se justa est. Hoc secundum
per se est notum. Primum ostenditur: quia nulla cernitur ibi legitima
auctoritas ad indicendum bellum; hæc enim residet in supremo Principe,
ut vidimus sect. 2. Dices, interdum poterit Princeps eam auctoritatem
concedere, si magna necessitas publica urgeat. At tunc jam non censetur
aggredi pars Reipublicæ, sed Princeps ipse; sicque nulla erit seditio
de qua loquimur. Sed, quid si illa Reipublicæ pars sit vere offensa ab
alia neque possit per Principem jus suum obtinere? Respondeo, non posse
plus efficere, quam possit persona privata, ut ex superioribus constare
facile potest.
Dico secundo: Bellum Reipublicæ contra Principem, etiamsi aggressivum,
non est intrinsece malum; habere tamen debet conditiones justi alias
belli, ut honestetur. Conclusio solum habet locum, quando Princeps
est tyrannus; quod duobus modis contingit, ut Cajet. not. 2. 2. q. 64
articulo primo ad tertium: primo si tyrannus sit quoad dominium, et
potestatem: secundo solum quoad regimen. Quando priori modo accidit
tyrannus, tota Respublica, et quodlibet ejus membrum jus habet
contra illum; unde quilibet potest se ac Rempublicam a tyrannide
vindicare. Ratio est; quia tyrannus ille aggressor est, et inique
bellum movet contra Rempublicam, et singula membra; unde omnibus
competit jus defensionis. Ita Cajetanus eo loco, sumique potest ex
D. Thom. in secundo, distinctione 44, quæstione secunda, articulo
secundo. De posteriori tyranno idem docuit Joann. Hus, imo de omni
iniquo superiore; quod damnatum est in Concilio Constant. Sessione
8 et 15. Unde certa veritas est, contra hujusmodi tyrannum nullam
privatam personam, aut potestatem imperfectam posse juste movere bellum
aggressivum, atque illud esset propie seditio. Probatur, quoniam ille,
ut supponitur, verus est Dominus: inferiores autem jus non habent
indicendi bellum, sed defendendi se tantum; quod non habet locum in
hoc tyranno: namque ille non semper singulis facit injuriam, atque
si invaderent, id solum possent efficere, quod ad suam defensionem
sufficeret. At vero tota Respublica posset bello insurgere contra
ejusmodi tyrannum, neque tunc excitaretur propia seditio (hoc siquidem
nomen in malam partem sumi consuevit). Ratio est: quia tunc tota
Respublica superior est Rege: nam, cum ipsa dederit illi potestatem,
ea conditione dedisse censetur, ut politice, non tyrannice regeret,
alias ab ipsa posset deponi. Est tamen observandum, ut ille vere, et
manifeste tyrannice agat; concurrantque aliæ conditiones ad honestatem
belli positas. Lege Divum Thomum 1 de regimine Principum, cap. 6.
Dico tertio: Bellum Reipublicæ contra Regem neutro modo tyrannum, est
propiissime seditio, et intrinsece malum. Est certa, et inde constat:
quia deest tunc et causa justa, et potestas. Ex quo etiam e contrario
constat, bellum Principis contra Rempublicam sibi subditam, ex parte
potestatis posse esse justum, si adsint aliæ conditiones; si vero
desint, injustum omnino esse.[E]
[E] An extract from Bellarmine de Romano Pont. is here omitted.
* * * * *
Listen to the language of P. Marquez in Spain, in the so-called
despotic times: it is well known that his work intituled _El Gobernador
Cristiano_ was not one of those obscure books which are never widely
circulated; it met with such success that it went through several
editions, as well in Spain as in foreign countries. I will give the
title at length, and I will add, at the same time, a note of the
editions published at different epochs, in different countries, in
different languages,--a note which is to be found in the edition of
Madrid in 1773.
"The Christian Magistrate (_El Gobernador Cristiano_), according to
the Life of Moses, the Ruler of the People of God, by the R. P. M. J.
R. John Marquez, O. S. A., preacher to his Majesty King Philip III.,
Examiner of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, and Evening Professor
of Theology at the University of Salamanca. New and sixth edition, with
permission. Madrid, 1773."
"The Christian Magistrate, composed at the request and in honor of His
Excellency the Duke of Feria, first published at Salamanca, in the year
1612; a second edition in the same town in 1619; a third edition at
Alcala in 1634, and a fourth at Madrid in 1640; the fifth edition was
published out of Spain, at Brussels, in 1664. This is the masterpiece
among works of this nature which have been written among us.
"Father Martin of St. Bernard, of the Order of Cîteaux, translated
this work into Italian, and had it printed at Naples, in 1646. It was
also translated into French by M. de Virion, counsellor to the Duke of
Lorraine, and it was printed at Nancy in 1621."
BOOK I. CHAP. 8.
"We have now to answer the contrary objections. We maintain that
neither the divine nor the natural law has given to states the power
of arresting the progress of tyranny by means so violent as that of
shedding the blood of princes, they being the vicars of God, divinely
invested with the right of life and death over other men. But so far
as resisting their cruelty is concerned, it is incontestable that
it may and ought to be done. They are not to be obeyed in any thing
opposed to the law of God; we must, therefore, escape from their wicked
commands, and prevent their blows, as Jonathan did with regard to Saul,
his father, when he saw him take his spear to smite David, and when,
rising from the table, he went in search of the latter, and warned
him of his danger. It is also sometimes allowable to resist princes
by force of arms, in order to prevent them from executing notoriously
rash and cruel determinations; for, according to the words of St.
Thomas, this is not to excite sedition, but to stop and prevent it.
Tertullian affirms the same thing when he says: 'Illis nomen factionis
accommodandum est, qui in odium bonorum et proborum conspirant, cum
boni, cum pii congregantur, non est factio dicenda, sed curia.'
"This is the reason why the blessed St. Hermenegildus, a glorious
Spanish martyr, took up arms and entered the field against King
Leovigildus, an Arian, to resist the great persecution directed
by this prince against the Catholics. This fact is related by the
contemporary historians. True, St. Gregory of Tours condemns this act
of our king-martyr, not for having resisted his sovereign, but because
the former was both his king and his father: and he maintains that
although he was a heretic, his son ought not to have resisted him. This
reply, however, is not well founded, as Baronius observes. Moreover,
the authority of this Gregory was combated by another Gregory, greater
than he, St. Gregory the Great, who, in the preface to his book of
_Morales_, approves of the embassy of Leander, sent to Constantinople
by St. Hermenegildus, to solicit the aid of Tiberius against
Leovigildus, his father. It is indubitable that however strong may be
the obligation of filial piety, that of religion is still stronger. The
latter obliges us to sacrifice every thing if it be necessary; and it
is on account of cases of this nature, that it is written of the tribe
of Levi: 'Qui dixerunt patri suo et matri suæ, nescio vos, et fratribus
suis ignoro vos, nescierunt filios suos.' Such was the conduct of the
Levites when they took up arms, by the command of Moses, to punish
their relations for the sin of idolatry.
"If the prince should go so far as personally to make an attempt upon
the life of the subject who has no other means of defending himself
than killing him,--as when Nero, parading the streets of Rome, followed
by a troop of armed men, attacked the quiet and unsuspecting citizens;
I say, that in such a case it would be allowable to kill him; for
if it is true, as Fr. Dominic de Soto observes, that the subject in
this extremity is to suffer himself to be killed, and so prefer the
monarch's life to his own, it is solely in the case when the death of
the monarch would give rise to great troubles and civil wars in the
state; in any other case it would be monstrously inhuman to force men
to a thing so insupportable. But when the subject's property is merely
to be defended against the cupidity of the monarch, it should not be
allowable to lay hands on him; for it is a privilege granted to princes
by divine and human laws, that their blood shall not be spilt for any
outrage which, committed by any other violator of private property,
would be a sufficient motive for taking away his life. The reason of
this is, that the life of the king is the soul and bond of the state;
that it is of more importance than the property of individuals; that it
is better to tolerate grievances of this nature, than to destroy the
head of the state."
NOTE 34, p. 348.
In order to give an idea of the means employed at this epoch to limit
the power of the monarch, by forming associations, whether among the
people themselves, or between the people, the grandees, and the clergy,
I insert here the letter, or _Charter of Fraternity_ (_Hermandad_),
which the kingdoms of Leon and Galicia made with Castile. I have
extracted this piece literally from the collection intituled _Bullarium
ordinis militiæ sancti Jacobi Gloriosissimi Hispaniarum patroni_, p.
223. It will prove to us the existence already, at a remote epoch of
our history, of a lively instinct for liberty, although ideas were
still limited to a secondary order.
"1. In the name of God and of the blessed Virgin. Amen.
"Be it known to all those who shall read this letter, that on account
of the innumerable acts of injustice, injuries, deeds of violence,
murders, imprisonments, insolent refusals of audience, opprobriums,
and other outrages without measure, committed against us by the king
D. Alphonso, to the contempt of God, of justice, of right, and to the
great detriment of all these kingdoms; we, the infantes, the prelates,
the rich men, the councils, the orders, the knights of the kingdoms
of Leon and Galicia, seeing ourselves overwhelmed with injustice and
ill-treatment, as we have stated above, and finding it insupportable;
our lord the infante Don Sancho has thought good and appointed that we
should be of one mind and of one heart, he with us and we with him, to
maintain our laws, our privileges, and our charters, in our usages,
our manners, our liberties, and franchises, which we enjoyed under
king Don Alphonso, his great-grandfather, the conqueror at the battle
of Merida, and under king Don Ferdinand, his grandfather; under the
emperor and all the other kings of Spain, their predecessors; and under
the king Don Alphonso, his father,--all princes who have best merited
our gratitude; and our said lord the infante Don Sancho has bound us to
this effect by oath and promise, as it is certain by letters between
him and us. Considering that it is agreeable to the service of God, of
the blessed Virgin, of the court of Heaven, to the defence and honor
of the holy Church, of the infante Don Sancho, and of the kings who
shall succeed him, in fine, to the advantage of the whole country, we
ordain and establish fraternity (_hermandad_), now and for ever, we the
whole of the kingdoms above named, with the councils of the kingdom of
Castile, with the infantes, the rich men, the hidalgos, the prelates,
the orders, the knights, and all others who are in this kingdom, and
who are willing to be with us, as it has just been said.
"2. Be it known to them, that we will insure to our lord the infante
Don Sancho, and to all other kings who shall succeed him, all their
rights, all their suzerainty, wholly and entirely, as we have
promised, and as they are contained in the privilege which he has
given us to this effect. Justice shall continue to be decreed by the
suzerainty. The Martiniega[F] shall be paid in the place and in the
manner in which it was customary to pay it, according to right, to Don
Alphonso, the conqueror at the battle of Merida. The money[G] shall be
paid at the end of seven years in the usual place and manner, the kings
not enjoining the coining of money. The repast (_yantar_)[H] shall be
taken in the place in which it was usual for the kings to take it,
according to the _fuero_, once a year, while visiting the very place,
as it was given to the king Don Alphonso, his great-grandfather, and to
the king Don Ferdinand, his grandfather. The _fonsadera_,[I] when the
king is with the army, in the customary place, according to the _fuero_
and right in the days of the above-named kings, guaranteeing to each
the privileges, charters, liberties, and franchises appertaining to us.
[F] Tribute that was paid on St. Martin's day.
[G] Another tribute.
[H] A tribute for the king's repast during his journeys.
[I] Tribute for maintaining the ditches of the castles in Castile, and
the armies.
"3. Be it known to them moreover, that we will maintain all our
rights, usages, customs, privileges, charters, all our liberties and
franchises, always and in such a manner, that should the king, the
infante Don Sancho, or the kings who shall succeed them, or any of the
lords, alcades, merinos, or any other persons, attempt to infringe upon
them, in whole or in part, in any way or at any time, we will unite
into one entire whole, and inform the king, the infante Don Sancho, or
those who shall succeed them, of the nature of our complaint, and ask
them if they are willing to reform; and if not, we will unite into one
entire body to defend and protect ourselves, as it is ordained in the
charter granted us by the infante Don Sancho.
"4. Moreover, be it known to them that no member of this _hermandad_
shall be chastised, and nothing shall be taken from him contrary
to right and the custom of the place, in the councils of the said
_hermandad_; and it shall not be allowable to take from him more than
is demanded by the _fuero_, in the place in which he shall be.
"5. We protest, that if an alcade, a merino, or any other person, on
the authority of a letter of the king, of the infante Don Sancho, by
his command, or that of the kings who shall succeed him, shall kill a
man of our _hermandad_ without hearing him and judging him according
to law, that we, the _hermandad_, will take away his life for such an
act. And if we cannot arrest him, he shall be declared an enemy to the
_hermandad_; every member of the _hermandad_ who shall have concealed
him shall fall under the penalty of perjury and felony, and shall be
treated in his turn as an enemy to this _hermandad_.
"6. We declare, moreover, that the port-duties shall be paid by us only
in conformity to the rights and usages of the times of Don Alphonso, or
the king Don Ferdinand, and the councils of the _hermandad_ will not
permit any person to receive them beyond this measure.
"7. Moreover, no infante or rich man shall be a merino or grand bailiff
in the kingdoms of Leon and Galicia. Neither can these functions be
exercised by an infançon, or a knight having notoriously a great number
of knights or other men of the country in vassalage; neither can they
be exercised by a stranger to the country. And we so will it, because
such was the custom in the days of the king Don Alphonso and of the
king Don Ferdinand.
"8. All those who may wish to appeal from the judgment of the king, or
of Don Sancho, or of other kings who shall succeed him, may do so; they
shall have recourse to the book of the _Fuero Juzgo_, in the kingdom of
Leon, as was usual in the days of the kings who preceded this. That if
the right of appeal be refused to any who may wish to invoke it, we,
on our part, will act according to the injunctions contained in the
charters granted us by Don Sancho.
"9. That we may guarantee and execute all the acts of this _hermandad_,
we make a seal of two plates, bearing the following impressions: upon
one of the plates, the figure of a lion; and upon the other, the figure
of St. James on horseback, with a sword in his right hand; in his left,
a standard with a cross at the top, and shells. The inscription shall
be thus expressed: '_The Seal of the Hermandad of the Kingdoms of Leon
and Galicia._' This seal shall be affixed to the documents which shall
be required by this _hermandad_.
"10. We the whole _hermandad_ of Castile, make a promise and render
homage to all the _hermandad_ of the kingdoms of Leon and Galicia,
that we will assist each other well and loyally to keep and maintain
every one of the above-named things. That if we fail to do so, we are
traitors for this alone, like him who slays his lord or surrenders a
castle; and may we never in that case have either hands, or tongues, or
arms to protect ourselves.
"11. But lest there should be any doubt about the pact we are now
making, in order that this pact may be for ever inviolate, we seal this
letter with the two seals of the _hermandad_ of Castile, Leon, and
Galicia, and place it in the hands of D. Pedro Nunez, and the Order of
the Knights of St. John, who are united with us in this _hermandad_.
Given at Valladolid, the 8th day of July, in the year one thousand
three hundred and twenty."
Spain had passed through many centuries without knowing of any other
religion than the Catholic. She still preserved in all its force and
vigor, the idea that the king should be the first to observe the
laws; that he could not rule the people according to his caprice;
that he ought to govern by principles of justice and views of public
expediency. Saavedra, in his _Devises_, thus expressed himself:--
"1st. Laws are vain when the prince who promulgates them does not
confirm and uphold them by his own life and example. A law will appear
lenient to the people when observed by its author.
"In commune jubes si quid, censesve tenendum,
Primus jussa sibi, tunc observantior æqui
Fit populus, nec ferre vetat, cum videri ipsum
Auctorem parere sibi.
"The laws promulgated by Servius Tullius were not only intended for
the people, but also for kings. The disputes between the monarch
and his subjects were to be settled in conformity with these laws,
as Tacitus relates of Tiberius: 'Although we are not subject to the
laws,' said the emperors Severus and Antonius, 'let us conform our
lives to these laws.' The monarch is bound by the law not merely from
the fact of its being a law, but from the very reason upon which it is
founded, when it is natural and common to all, and not particular and
exclusively destined to the right government of subjects; for in this
case the observance of the law merely concerns the subject, although
the monarch, if it should so happen, is bound to obey it, in order to
render it tolerable to others. Such appears to have been the meaning of
the mysterious command given by God to Ezechiel, _to eat the volume_,
that others seeing him the first to taste the laws and declare them
good, might be induced to imitate him. The kings of Spain are so far
subject to the laws, that the Treasury, in causes relating to the royal
patrimony, is absolutely subject to the same laws as the least of his
subjects; and in doubtful cases, the Treasury is condemned. Philip
II. thus ordained it; and on an occasion in which his grandson Philip
IV., the glorious father of V. A., was personally brought to judgment
in an important trial of the Chamber, before the royal council, the
judges had the noble determination to condemn him, and his majesty had
the rectitude to hear the sentence without expressing any indignation.
Happy empire, in which the cause of the monarch is always the least
favored!"
NOTE 35, p. 356.
Sufficient attention has not perhaps been paid to the merit of the
industrial organization introduced into Europe from the earliest
ages, and which became more and more diffused after the twelfth
century. I allude to the trades-unions, and other associations, which,
established under the influence of the Catholic religion, commonly
placed themselves under the patronage of some Saint, and had pious
foundations for the celebration of their feasts, and for assisting each
other in their necessities. Our celebrated Capmany, in his _Historical
memoirs on the Marine, Commerce, and the Arts of the ancient City of
Barcelona_, has published a collection of documents, very valuable for
the history of the working classes and of the development of their
influence on politics. Few works have appeared in foreign countries,
in the latter part of the last century, of such great merit as that of
our fellow-countryman, published in 1779. One very interesting chapter
of this work is devoted to the institution of trades-corporations. I
give here a copy of the chapter, which I particularly recommend to the
perusal of those persons who imagine that nothing had been thought of
in Europe for the benefit of the laboring classes, of those who are so
foolish as to look upon that as a means of slavery and exclusivism,
which was in reality a means of encouragement and of mutual support.
It also appears to me that, by reading the philosophical remarks of
Capmany, every sensible man will be convinced that Europe, from the
earliest ages, has possessed systems adapted to the encouragement of
industry, to the preservation of it from the fatal agitations of those
times, to secure esteem for it, and to the legitimate and salutary
development of the popular element. It will be no less useful to
present this sketch to certain foreign writers, continually occupied
with social and political economy, and who, nevertheless, in compiling
the history of that science, have not even been acquainted with a work
so important for every thing connected with the middle ages of Europe,
from the eleventh to the eighteenth century.
_"Of the institution of the Trades-Corporations and other Associations
of Artisans at Barcelona._
"No memoir has hitherto been discovered which might serve to
enlighten and guide us in fixing the exact epoch of the institution
of the trades-associations at Barcelona.[J] But according to all
the conjectures furnished by ancient monuments, it is very probable
that the political erection or formation of the bodies of laborers
took place in the time of Don Jaime I., under whose glorious reign
the arts were developed under a favorable influence; whilst commerce
and navigation took a higher flight, owing to the expeditions of the
Aragonese arms beyond the seas. Increased facilities in the means
of transport have given an impetus to industry; and an increasing
population, the natural result of labor, by its reaction upon labor,
augmented the demand for it. At Barcelona, as every where else,
trades-corporations naturally arose when the wants and the tastes of
society had, of necessity, grown so multifarious, that artisans were
forced, with a view to secure protection to their industry, to form
themselves into communities. Luxury, and the tastes of society, like
every other object of commerce, are subject to continual change; hence,
new branches of trade are continually springing up and displacing
others; so that at one period each separate art runs into various
branches, whilst at another, several arts are combined into one. At
Barcelona, corporate industry has passed through all these vicissitudes
in the course of five centuries. The hardware trade has comprised at
different periods eleven or twelve branches, and consequently afforded
subsistence to as many classes of families, whilst at the present time
these same branches are reduced to eight, in consequence of certain
changes in fashions and customs.
[J] "It is extremely difficult to ascertain the origin of the
trades-corporations, even in those towns which have been the longest
and the best disciplined.--Sandi, in his _Civil History of Venice_
(t. ii. part 1, lib. iv. p. 767), after having reckoned sixty-one
trades-corporations existing in that capital at the beginning of
his century, declares that it is impossible to assign to each of
these corporations the date of its origin, or that of its first
statutes. This historian nevertheless consulted all the archives of
the republic; he contents himself with observing, that none of the
corporations are anterior to the fourteenth century." (_The notes
which accompany this chapter are those of Capmany himself._)
"In accordance with the social system which generally prevailed at
that time in most European countries, it was found necessary to bestow
liberty and privileges upon an industrious and mercantile people, who
thus became a great source of strength and support to kings; and this
could not be effected without classifying the citizens. But these
lines of demarcation could not be maintained distinct and inviolate
without a political division of the various corporations in which both
men and their occupations were classified. This division was the more
necessary in a city like Barcelona, which, ever since the middle of the
thirteenth century, had assumed a sort of democratic independence in
its mode of government. Thus, in Italy, the first country in the West
that re-established the name and the influence of the people, after
these had been effaced in the iron ages by Gothic rule, the industrial
classes had already been formed into corporations, which gave stability
to the arts and trades, and conferred great honors upon them in
those free cities, where, amidst the flux and reflux of invasions,
the artisan became a senator, and the senator an artisan. Wars and
factions, endemic evils in that delightful country at the time of which
we are speaking, could not, in spite of all their ravages, effect the
destruction of the associated trades, whose political existence, when
once their members were admitted to a share in the government, formed
the very basis of the constitution of both nations, inasmuch as both
were industrial and mercantile. At Barcelona the trades were well
regulated, prosperous, and flourishing, under that municipal system,
and that consular jurisprudence, of which commerce, and its invariable
concomitant, industry, have always stood in need. It was thus that this
capital became one of the most celebrated centres of the manufacturing
industry of the middle ages--a reputation which it has maintained and
increased up to the present time. In like manner, it was under the name
and rule of corporations and brotherhoods that trades were established
in Flanders, in France, and in England, countries in which the arts
have been carried to their highest degree of perfection and renown.
The trades-corporations of Barcelona, even when viewed merely as a
necessary institution for the due regulation of the primitive form of
municipal government, should be regarded as most important, whether for
the preservation of the arts, or as forming the basis of the influence
of the artisans themselves. It is at once evident, from the experience
of five centuries, that trades-unions have effected unspeakable good
in Barcelona, were it only by preserving, as an imperishable deposit,
the love, the tradition, and the memory of the arts. They have formed
so many rallying points, so many banners, as it were, under which more
than once the shattered forces of industry have found refuge; and
have thus been enabled to recover their energy and activity, and to
perpetuate their existence to our own days, in spite of pestilence,
wars, factions, and a multitude of other calamities, which exhaust
men's energies, overthrow their habitations, and change their manners.
If Barcelona, so often visited by these physical and political plagues,
had possessed no community, no bond, no common interest among its
artisans, it would certainly have witnessed the destruction of their
skill, their economy, and their activity, as is the case with beavers,
when their communities have been broken up and dispersed by the
hunters.[K]
[K] We here recognise many ideas taken from a work which saw the
light in 1774, from the press of Sancha, under the title of _Discours
économique-politique pour la defense du travail mécanique des
ouvriers, par D. Ramon Miguel Palacio_. The author of these memoirs,
fearing to be accused of a gross plagiarism, observes that, being
obliged here to treat of this same matter, he was forced to adopt many
of the ideas contained in this work, which at that time he thought it
proper to publish without affixing his real name.
"By a happy effect of the security enjoyed by families in their
different trades, and thanks to the aid, or _mont-de-piété_,
established in the very bosom of the corporation for its necessitous
members, who, without this assistance, might have been plunged into
misery, these economical establishments at Barcelona have directly
contributed to maintain the prosperity of the arts, by shutting out
misery from the workshop, and preserving the operatives from indigence.
Without this corporate police, by which each trade is surrounded, the
property and the fortune of the artisan would have been exposed to
the greatest risks; moreover, the credit and stability of the trades
themselves would have been perilled; for then the quack, the unskilled
operative, and the obscure adventurer, might have imposed upon the
public with impunity, and a pernicious latitude might have taken the
place of liberty. On the other hand, the trades-corporations being
powerful associations, each one by itself being governed by a unanimity
of intelligence and a community of interests, could purchase their
stocks of raw materials seasonably and advantageously. They supplied
the wants of the masters; they made advances, or stood security, for
those of their members who lacked either time or funds for making
great preliminary disbursements of capital at their own cost. Besides,
these corporations, comprehending and representing the industry of
the nation, and consequently feeling an interest in its maintenance,
addressed from time to time memorials to the Municipal Council, or
to the Cortes, relative to the injuries they were sustaining, or
the approach of which they, as it often happened, foresaw from the
introduction of counterfeit goods, or of foreign productions, which
is a cause of ruin to our industry. In fine, without the institution
of trades-corporations, instruction would have been void of order
and fixed rules; for where there are no masters duly authorized and
permanently established, neither will there be any disciples; and all
regulations, in default of an executive power to see them observed,
will be disregarded and trodden under foot. Trades-corporations
are so necessary to the preservation of the arts, that the various
trades known at the present day in this capital have derived their
appellations and their origin from the economical divisions, and from
the arts established by these corporations. When the blacksmith in his
shop made ploughshares, nails, keys, knives, swords, &c., the names of
the trades of the blacksmith, the nailer, the cutler, the armorer, &c.
were unknown; and as there was no special and particular instruction
in each of these branches of labor, the separation of which afterwards
formed so many new arts maintained by their respective communities,
these trades were unknown.
"The second political advantage resulting from the institution of
trades-corporations at Barcelona was, the esteem and consideration
in which at all times these establishments caused both the artisans
and the arts to be held. This wise institution won respect for the
operative classes, by constituting them a visible and permanent order
in the state. Hence it is that the conduct and the mode of life of the
Barcelonians have ever been such as are to be found only amongst an
honorable people. Never having been confounded with any exempted and
privileged body (for the trades-corporations draw a circle around their
members, and let them know what they are, and what they are worth),
these people learned that there was honor and virtue within their own
sphere, and labored to preserve these qualities; so certain is it that
social distinctions in a nation have more influence than is sometimes
believed in upholding the spirit of each social class.
"Another view of this question shows us that trades-corporations form
communities, governed by an economic code, which assigns to each
corporation certain employments and certain honors, to which every
individual member may aspire. Even men's prejudices, when wisely
directed, sometimes produce admirable effects. Thus the government, the
administration of these bodies, in which the artisan always enjoyed
the prerogative of managing the resources and the interests of his
trade and of his fellow-members, with the title of Counsellor, or Elder
(_Prohombre_), won for the mechanical arts of Barcelona public and
general esteem; whilst the pre-eminence in a festival or an assembly
serves with these men to soften the rigors of manual labor, and the
disadvantages of their inferior condition. At the same time that the
trades of Barcelona, formed into well-organized bodies, fixed and
preserved the arts in that capital, they had the further credit, by
acting as political bodies of the most numerous class of the people, of
gaining a high esteem for their members. The obscure artisan, without
matriculation, or a common bond, continues isolated and wandering;
he dies, and with him perishes his art; or at the first reverse of
fortune, he emigrates and abandons his craft. What consideration can
wretched wandering followers of any trade obtain in a country? Just
such as knife-grinders and tinkers possess in the provinces of Spain.
At Barcelona, all the trades have constantly enjoyed the same general
esteem, because all have been established and governed upon a system
which has rendered them fixed, respectable, and prosperous.
"The esteem in which the trades of Barcelona were held from the
time when the municipal government had formed them into national
corporations, the agents of public economy, gave rise to the laudable
and useful custom of perpetuating trades in the same families. In fact
the people having learned that, without quitting the class to which
they belonged, they could preserve the respect and consideration due
to useful and honorable citizens, no longer desired to quit it, and
were no longer ashamed of their condition. When trades are held in
honor, which is the consequence of the stability and civil properties
of corporations, they naturally become hereditary. Now, the advantages
both to the artisan and the arts, resulting from this transmission
of trades, are so real and so well known, that it is needless to
specify them here, or to dwell upon their salutary effects. This
demarcation and classification of trades caused many of the arts to
become sure possessions for those who adopted them. Hence fathers aimed
at transmitting their trade to their sons; and thus was formed an
indestructible mass of national industry, which made labor honorable,
by implanting steady and homogeneous manners, if we may so speak, in
the bosom of the class of artisans.
"Another circumstance contributed still more to render the exercise
of the mechanical arts honorable at Barcelona, not only more than in
most other parts of Spain, but more than in any other state, ancient
or modern. This was the admission of the trades-corporations upon the
register of municipal offices in this city, which enjoyed so many
royal grants and extraordinary privileges of independence. Thus the
nobility--that Gothic nobility--with their great domains, sought to be
incorporated with the operatives in the _Ayuntamiento_, there to fill
the offices and supreme stations in the political government, which,
during more than five hundred years, continued in Barcelona under a
form and in a spirit truly democratic.[L] All mechanical offices,
without any odious distinction or exclusion, were held worthy to be
declared qualified for the consistorial council of magistrates; all had
a voice and a vote among the conscript fathers who represented this
city, the most highly privileged perhaps that ever existed; one of the
most renowned for its laws, its power, and its influence; one of the
most respected in the middle ages amongst all the states and monarchies
of Europe, Asia, and Africa.[M]
[L] "Consult the Appendix of Notes, Nos. 28 and 30. You will there
see what respect and power the town of Barcelona enjoyed at another
period, by means of the municipal magistrates, who represented it
under the ordinary name of councillors."
[M] "In the diplomatic collection of these memoirs, we find a
multitude of letters and other documents proving the direct and mutual
relations which existed between the city of Barcelona and the emperors
of the East, of Germany, the sultans of Egypt, the kings of Tunis, of
Morocco, and various monarchs and states, or other great powers of
Europe."
"This political system, and this municipal form of government,
resembled that which prevailed in the middle ages amongst all the
principal towns of Italy, whence Catalonia borrowed many of its
customs and usages. Genoa, Pisa, Milan, Pavia, Florence, Sienna, and
other towns, had a municipal government composed of the leading men
in commerce, and the arts, under the name of consuls, counsellors,
&c. _Priores Artium_--such was the name of a popular form of elective
government, distributed among the different classes of citizens,
without excluding the artisans, who, in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, were in their most flourishing condition, forming the most
respectable part of the population, and consequently the richest, the
most powerful, and the most independent. This democratic liberty,
besides giving stability and permanency to industry in the towns
of Italy, conferred a singular degree of honor on the mechanical
professions. The grand council of these towns was summoned by the
tolling of the bell, when the artisans arranged themselves under the
banners or gonfalons of their respective trades. Such was also the
political constitution of Barcelona from the middle of the thirteenth
to the commencement of the present century. With these facts before
us, need we feel surprise that, in our own days, arts and artisans in
Barcelona still retain undiminished esteem and consideration; that a
love for mechanical professions has become hereditary; that the dignity
and self-respect of the artisan class have become traditional, even to
the last generations, in which the customs of their ancestors have been
transmitted by the succession of example, even after the extinction of
the political reasons in which these customs had their origin? Several
trades-corporations still preserve in the halls of their _juntas_ the
portraits of those of their members who formerly obtained the first
employments in the state. Must not this laudable practice have engraven
on the memory of the members of the corporation all the ideas of honor
and dignity consistent with the condition of an artisan? Assuredly
the popular form of the ancient government of Barcelona could not
fail to imprint itself generally and forcibly on the manners of the
people; indeed, where all the citizens were equal in the participation
of honors, it is easy to see that no one would willingly remain
inferior to another in virtue or in merit, although inferior, in
other respects, by his condition and fortune. This noble emulation,
which must naturally have been awakened to activity in the concourse
of all orders in the state, gave birth to the dignity, the lofty and
inviolate probity of the artisans of Barcelona; and this character they
have maintained to our own times, to the admiration of Spain and of
foreign nations. Such has been the negligence of our national authors,
that this narrative will have the appearance of a discovery: up to
the present time Barcelona and the Principality had not attracted the
scrutinizing notice of the political historian, so that a dark shadow
still concealed the real principles (always unknown to the crowd) from
which in all times, have sprung the virtues and the vices of nations.
"To these causes may be attributed, in great part, the esteem which
the artisans have acquired. Nothing could be more salutary than this
obligation they were always under of comporting themselves with dignity
and distinction in public employments, whether in the corporation or
the municipal government. Moreover the constant example of the master
of the house, who, up to the present time, has always lived in common
with his apprentices in a praiseworthy manner, has confirmed the
children in ideas of order and dignity; for the manners and habits
of a people, which are as powerful as law, must be inculcated from
the tenderest age. Thus, in Barcelona, the operative has never been
confounded by the slovenliness of his dress with the mendicant, whose
idle and dissipated habits, says an illustrious writer, are easily
contracted when the dress of the man of respectability is in no way
distinguished from that of the rabble. Nor are the laboring population
ever seen wearing those cumbersome garments which, serving as a cover
for rags and a cloak for idleness, cramp the movements and activity
of the body, and invite to a life of indolent ease. The people have
not contracted a habit of frequenting taverns, where example leads to
drunkenness and moral disorders. Their amusements, so necessary for
working people to render their daily toils supportable, have always
been innocent recreations, which either afforded them repose from their
fatigues or varied them. The games formerly permitted were either the
ring (_la bague_), nine pins, bowls, ball, shooting at a mark, fencing,
and public dancing, authorized and watched over by the authorities;
an amusement which from time immemorial has been general amongst the
Catalans, in certain seasons and on certain festivals of the year.
"The respect for the artisan of Barcelona has never been diminished
on account of the material on which his art was exercised, whether
it was silver, steel, iron, copper, wood, or wool. We have seen that
all the trades were equally eligible to the municipal offices of the
state; none were excluded--not even butchers. Ancient Barcelona did not
commit the political error of establishing preferences that might have
produced some odious distinctions of trades. The inhabitants considered
that all the citizens were in themselves worthy of esteem, since all
contributed to the growth and maintenance of the property of a capital
whose opulence and power were founded upon the industry of the artisan
and the merchant. In fact, Barcelona has ever been free from that
idea, so generally entertained, that every mechanical profession is
low and vulgar--a mischievous and very common prejudice, which, in the
provinces of Spain, has made an irreparable breach in the progress of
the arts. At Barcelona, admission into certain trades-corporations
has never been refused to the members of other trades: in this city
all the trades are held in the same estimation. In a word, neither
Barcelona nor any other town in Catalonia has ever entertained those
vulgar prejudices that are enough to prevent honorable men from
devoting themselves to the arts, or to cause the son to forsake the art
practised by the father."[N]
[N] See the remarks of his Excellency M. Campomanes on these abuses
and false principles of policy, in his _Discourse on the Popular
Education of Artisans_, from page 119 to 160.
NOTE 36, p. 361.
I have spoken of the numerous Councils held by the Church at different
epochs; why, it will be asked, does she not hold them more frequently
now? I will answer this question by quoting a judicious passage from
Count de Maistre, in his work _On the Pope_, book i. chap. 2:--
"In the first ages of Christianity," says he, "it was more easy to
assemble Councils, because the Church was not so numerous as now, and
because the emperors possessed powers that enabled a sufficient number
of Bishops to assemble, so that their decisions needed only the assent
of other Bishops. Yet these Councils were not assembled without much
difficulty and embarrassment. But in modern times, since the civilized
world has been divided into so many sovereignties, and immeasurably
increased by our intrepid navigators, an Œcumenical Council has become
a chimera.[O] Simply to convoke all the Bishops, and to bring legally
together such a convocation, five or six years would not suffice."
[O] We ordinarily call a chimera, or an impossibility, that which
offers great difficulties. On this occasion we cannot help observing
to sincere persons, that, from these great difficulties, they may
judge of the lawfulness and sincerity of the desires manifested by the
_soi-disant_ reformers and appellants to Councils. They do not wish
for Councils; but, under the shadow of this word, they wish to escape
the authority of their legitimate superiors. (Note by the authors of
the _Bibliothèque de Religion_, published in Spain.)
NOTE 37, p. 369.
That my readers may be convinced of the truth and accuracy of what I
here affirm, I invite them to read the history of the heresies that
have afflicted the Church since the first ages, but particularly from
the tenth century down to our own days.
NOTE 38, p. 373.
It was not, I have said, without prejudice to the liberty of the people
that the influence of the clergy was withdrawn from the working of the
political machine. In order to ascertain how far this is true, it may
be well to remark, that a great number of theologians were favorable to
tolerably liberal doctrines in political matters, and that it was the
clergy who exercised the greatest freedom in speaking to kings, even
after the people had almost entirely lost the right of intervention in
political affairs. Observe what opinions St. Thomas held on forms of
government.
(Quest. cv. 1^a 2^æ.)
_De ratione judicialium præceptorum art._ 1. Respondeo dicendum, quod
circa bonam ordinationem principum in aliqua civitate, vel gente, duo
sunt attendenda, quorum unum est, ut omnes aliquam partem habeant
in principatu; per hoc enim conservatur pax populi et omnes talem
ordinationem amant et custodiunt ut dicitur (II. _Polit._, cap. i.);
aliud est quod attenditur secundum speciem regiminis vel ordinationis
principatum, cujus cum sint diversæ species, ut philosophus tradit
in III. _Polit._ cap. v., præcipue tamen unum regimen est, in quo
unus principatur secundum virtutem: et aristocratia, id est potestas
optimorum, in qua aliqui pauci principantur secundum virtutem. Unde
optima ordinatio principum est in aliqua civitate vel regno, in quo
unus præficitur secundum virtutem qui omnibus præsit et sub ipso sunt
aliqui principantes secundum virtutem, et tamen talis principatus ad
omnes pertinet, tum quia ex omnibus eligi possunt, tum quia etiam ab
omnibus eliguntur. Talis vero est omnis politia bene commixta ex regno
in quantam unus præest, et aristocratia in quantum multi principantur
secundum virtutem, et ex democratia, id est potestate populi in quantum
ex popularibus possunt eligi principes, et ad populum pertinet electio
principum, et hoc fuit institutum secundum legem divinam.
Divus Thomas. (1^a 2^æ Q. 90, art. 4^o.)
Et sic ex quatuor prædictis potest colligi definitio legis quæ nihil
est aliud quam quædam rationis ordinatio ad bonum commune ab eo qui
curam communitatis habet promulgata. Q. 95, art. 4.
Tertio est de ratione legis humanæ ut instituatur a gubernante
communitatem civitatis: sicut supra dictum est. (Quest. 90, art. 3.)
Et secundum hoc distinguuntur leges humanæ secundum diversa regimina
civitatum, quorum unum, secundum philosophum in III. _Polit._, cap.
xi., est regnum, quando scilicet civitas gubernatur ab uno, et secundum
hoc accipiuntur constitutiones principum; aliud vero regimen est
aristocratia, id est principatus optimorum vel optimatum, et secundum
hoc sumuntur responsa prudentum et etiam senatusconsulta. Aliud regimen
est oligarchia, id est principatus paucorum divitum et potentum; et
secundum hoc sumitur jus prætorium, quod etiam honorarium dicitur.
Aliud autem regimen est populi, quod nominatur democratia; et secundum
hoc sumuntur plebiscita. Aliud autem est tyrannicum, quod est omnino
corruptum unde ex hoc non sumitur aliqua lex. Est etiam et aliquod
regimen ex istis commixtum, quod est optimum, et secundum hoc sumitur
lex quam majores natu simul cum plebibus sanxerunt, ut Isidorus dicit
lib. 5, _Etym. O._ cap. x.
If certain declaimers are to be believed, it would seem that the
principle, that it is the law which governs, and not the will of
man, is quite a recent discovery. But observe with what solidity and
perspicuity the angelic doctor expounds this doctrine.
(1^a 2^æ Q. 93, art. 1.)
Utrum fuerit utile aliquas leges poni ab hominibus.
Ad 2^m dicendum, quod sicut Philosophus dicit. 1. Rhetor. Melius est
omnia ordinari lege, quam dimittere judicum arbitrio, et hoc propter
tria. Primo quidem, quia facilius est invenire paucos sapientes, qui
sufficiant ad rectas leges ponendas, quam multos; qui requirerentur
ad recte judicandum de singulis. Secundo, quia illi qui leges ponunt,
ex multo tempore considerant quid lege ferendum sit: sed judicia de
singularibus factis fiunt ex casibus subito exortis. Facilius autem ex
multis consideratis potest homo videre quid rectum sit, quam solum ex
aliquo uno facto. Tertio, quia legislatores judicant in universali, et
de futuris: sed homines judiciis præsidentes judicant de præsentibus;
ad quæ afficientur amore vel odio, aut aliqua cupiditate; et sic
eorum depravatur judicium. Quia ergo justitia animata judicis non
invenitur in multis, et quia flexibilis est: ideo necessarium fuit in
quibuscumque est possibile, legem determinare quid judicandum sit, et
paucissima arbitrio hominum committere.
In Spain, the _Procuradores_ of the Cortes dared not raise their voices
against the excesses of power; and their timidity drew down the keen
reproaches of P. Mariana. In the examination to which he was subjected
in the celebrated suit commenced against him on the subject of the
_seven treatises_, he confesses having applied to the _Procuradores_
the epithets of _vile, superficial, and utterly venal_, only striving
to obtain the favor of the prince, and their own particular interests,
without solicitude for the public good. He added, that such was the
public cry, the general complaint, at least at Toledo, where he was
residing.
I will leave unnoticed his work intituled _De Rege et Regis
institutione_, of which I have spoken elsewhere. Confining myself
to his _History of Spain_, I will observe with what liberty he
expresses himself on the most delicate points, without meeting with any
opposition, either from the civil or from the ecclesiastical authority.
In his 1st book, chap. 4, speaking of the Aragonese, in his usual grave
and severe tone, he says: "The Aragonese possess and enjoy laws and
_fueros_ very different from those of the other people of Spain; they
possess every thing most adapted for preserving liberty against the
excessive power of kings, for preventing this power from degenerating
and changing, by its natural tendency, into tyranny; for they are not
ignorant of this truth, that the right of liberty is generally lost by
degrees."
It was precisely at this epoch that the clergy expressed themselves
with the greatest freedom on the most delicate of all subjects, that
of contributions. The venerable Palafox, in his memorial or petition
to the king for ecclesiastical immunity, said: "According to St.
Augustine, to the great Tostat, and other weighty authors, the Son
of God appointed that the children of God--that is the ministers of
the Church, his priests--should not pay tribute to the pagan princes.
In fact, he addressed to St. Peter the following question, already
resolved by the eternal wisdom of the Father: _Reges gentium a quibus
accipiunt tributum, a filiis, an ab alienis?_ St. Peter answered, _Ab
alienis_; and our Lord concluded with these words: _Ergo liberi sunt
filii_. I may be allowed, sire, to make this delicate observation,
that the Divine Majesty does not say, _Reges gentium a quibus capiunt
tributum_, but _a quibus accipiunt_. By this word accipiunt, we
understand the mildness and mansuetude with which the payment of a
tribute should always be exacted, in order to diminish the bitterness
and repugnance accompanying a tribute.
"46. It is doubtless useful for the preservation of the state, that,
in the first place, subjects should give, in order that princes may
then receive. It is proper that kings should receive, and employ the
tribute paid them, for on this depends the safety of crowns; but it is
well that subjects should first give it voluntarily. It is doubtless
from this passage of Scripture, from this expression of the Eternal
Word, that the Catholic Crown, always so pious, has received the holy
doctrine, by virtue of which neither your majesty nor your illustrious
predecessors have ever permitted a tribute to be levied without its
having first received the consent of the kingdoms themselves, and been
offered by them; and your majesty is incomparably more exalted by
limiting and moderating your power, than by exercising it to its utmost
extent.
"47. Sire, if laymen, who have no exemption in matters of tribute,
enjoy that which the kindness of your majesty and of the most Catholic
kings grant them; if they do not pay till they choose to make a
voluntary offering; if nothing is received from them except on this
condition, will religion, your majesty's renowned piety, and the
devoted zeal of the Council, allow the clergy--the sons, the ministers
of God, the privileged, those who are exempt by divine and human law in
all the nations of the world, and among the very pagans--to enjoy less
favor than strangers, who are not, like them, either ministers of the
Church or priests of God? Is the word _capiunt_, sire, to be applied
exclusively to the ministers of God, and the word _accipiunt_ to men of
the world?"
In his work intituled _Historia Real Sagrada_, the same writer raises
his voice against tyranny with extreme severity:
"12. _Such_," says he, "_is the law which the king whom you wish
for will maintain in your regard_. The word law is here employed
ironically, as if God should say: 'You imagine, without doubt, that
this king of yours would govern according to law; on this supposition
you asked for him, since you complained that my tribunal did not govern
you. Now, the law which this king will exercise towards you will be, to
disregard all law; and his law will eventually be tyranny respected.'
The politician who, relying upon this passage, should attribute as a
right to the monarch a power which is merely pointed out by God to the
people as a chastisement, would be an uncivilized being, unworthy of
being treated as a rational creature. The Lord, in this instance, does
not define what is the best; he does not say what he is giving them;
these words are no appreciation of power; he merely declares what would
be the case, and what he condemns. Who shall dare to found the origin
of tyranny on justice itself? God says, that he whom they desire for a
king will be a tyrant--not a tyrant approved of by him, but a tyrant
that he reprobates and chastises. And subsequent events clearly shewed
it, since there were in Israel wicked kings, by whom the prophecy was
fulfilled, and Saints who obtained on the throne the mercy of God.
The wicked kings literally accomplished the divine threat, by doing
what they were forbidden; the good ones established their dignity upon
propriety and justice within prescribed limits."
Father Marquez, in his _Christian Prince or Magistrate_ (_Gobernador
Cristiano_), also enlarges on the same question; he expounds his
opinion both theoretically and practically.
(Chapter xvi. 53.)
"Thus far we have heard the words of Philo, writing on this event. As
these words afforded me an opportunity of reasoning on the obligations
of Christian kings, I have taken care to quote them at length. I
will not expect these kings to act like Moses; for they have not the
miraculous aid which the Hebrew legislator received for the relief of
the people, nor the rod which God gave him to make water flow from the
rock at need. But I will recommend them to reflect maturely on the
additional services they shall attempt to exact from their subjects,
and the burdens they shall impose on them. Let them reflect that they
are bound to justify the motive of their request in all truth, and
without any false coloring; always and constantly aware that they are
in the presence of God, that the eyes of God are fixed on their hands,
that He will require from them a strict account of their actions. For,
as the holy doctor of Nazianzen says, the Son of God came designedly
into the world at the taking of a census and a resettlement of the
imposts, in order to confound kings who would have appointed them
through caprice; so that kings may now know that the Son of God takes
account of every item, and weighs in the balance of his strict justice
things which we should account of little moment.
"The above reflection will serve to dispel the false ideas of certain
flatterers, who, to obtain the favor of princes, persuade them that
they are perfectly independent and the masters of the lives and
property of their subjects, free to dispose of them as they may think
proper. In support of this pretended maxim, they allege, as we have
seen, the history of Samuel, who answered the people on the part of
God, when they were demanding a king, 'You shall have one, but on
terrible conditions.' This king was to take from them their fields,
their vineyards, their olive-yards, to give them to his servants; he
was to take their daughters for slaves, 'to make him ointments, and
to be his cooks and bakers.' And they have not observed that, as John
Bodin says, this is the interpretation of Philip Melancthon, which
alone is sufficient to render it suspicious. Moreover, as St. Gregory,
and after him other doctors, have observed, this passage of Scripture
does not establish the just right of kings, but rather announces
beforehand the tyranny of a great number of princes; in fine, these
words do not explain what good princes might do, but merely what bad
ones would usually do. Hence, when Achab seized upon the vineyard of
Naboth, God was angry with him, and we know how He treated him. When
David, the elect of God, demanded a spot whereon to set up the altar of
Jebusee, he only asked it on condition of paying the value of the land.
"For this reason princes should examine with scrupulous attention
whether contributions are just; for if they are not, doctors decide
that they cannot, without manifest injustice, thus more or less
infringe on the rights of their subjects. This doctrine is so Catholic
and certain, that men holding sound doctrine affirm that, in this case,
princes cannot impose fresh tributes, even though necessary, without
the consent of the nation. For, say they, the prince not being (which
he certainly is not) the master of his subjects' property, cannot make
use of it without the consent of those from whom he is to receive it.
This custom has been long in practice in the kingdom of Castile, where
the laws of royalty prohibit the levying of any new impost without
the intervention of the Cortes: after having received the sanction
of the Cortes, the impost is submitted to the vote of the towns; and
the prince does not consider his demand granted till it has received
the sanction of the majority of the towns. Edward I. of England made
a similar law, according to many authors of weight; and Philip of
Commines says, that it was the same in France till the time of Charles
VII., who, urged by an extreme necessity, suppressed these formalities,
and levied a tax without waiting for the consent of the States, and
this inflicted on the kingdom so deep a wound, that it will long
continue unhealed. If we may credit certain affirmations, this author
reports, that it was then asserted that the king had escaped from the
guardianship exercised by the kingdom; but that his own opinion is,
that kings cannot, without the consent of their people, exact a single
farthing; princes acting otherwise, says he, fall under the Pope's
excommunication; no doubt that of the bull _In Cœna Domini_. For my
own part, I ought to confess that I do not find this in Philip de
Commines.... With respect to this second point, it is evident, that
the prince cannot, on his own authority, impose new tributes without
the consent of the nation, whenever this nation shall have acquired by
any of the reasons mentioned a contrary right, which I consider to be
the case in Castile. No one, in fact, will deny that kingdoms at their
commencement have a right to choose their kings on this condition, or
render them such services as to obtain in return that no new imposts
shall be laid on them without their consent. Now, in either case, there
will be a compact made, from which kings cannot depart; and it is of
no consequence, as some imagine it to be, whether they have obtained
their kingdoms through the election of their subjects, or by mere
force of arms. Although it is probable, indeed, that a State yielding
itself of its own accord, will obtain greater privileges and better
conditions than those acquired by a just war, it would not, however,
be impossible for a State, in choosing a king, to confer upon him all
its power in an absolute manner, and without this restriction, with
a view to lay him under greater obligations, and to testify to him a
greater degree of devotedness; and, on the other hand, a king, who had
subjected a kingdom by force of arms, might nevertheless voluntarily
grant it this privilege, with a view to obtain its gratitude, and more
affectionate obedience on its part. The positive rule, therefore, for
this particular right, will be the contract made, whether virtually or
expressly, between the State and the prince; a contract which should be
inviolable, especially if it is sealed by an oath."
_The Prince, or Christian Magistrate._
(Liv. ii. ch. xxxix. § 2.)
"Princes, it is said, may compel their subjects to sell at half-price,
or to give gratuitously, a part of their property. This opinion is
generally founded on the law which ordains that, when a ship in a
tempest has been saved by throwing overboard a part of the cargo, the
proprietors of the remaining part are obliged to make a proportionate
contribution to indemnify the sufferers for the loss they have
sustained. Bartholus and other authors have inferred from this, that
in a time of necessity and famine the monarch may require his subjects
to give gratuitously, and _a fortiori_ to sell at a lower price, a
portion of their property to those in need. The monarch, say they,
might, without any doubt, render property common, as it was before the
establishment of social rights; he may consequently take it from one of
his subjects and give it to another.
"It is certainly said in the laws of the kings of Israel, that he who
should be chosen by God might seize upon the vineyards and property of
his subjects, to confer them on his own servants; but the doctors do
not support their arguments on this text. In fact, as we have said in
chapter 16th, book i., the question does not concern the rights of a
good prince, but the tyrannical acts of a bad one. Now, a careful study
of the Scriptures will shew, that this passage must be favourable to
one or other of the two opinions; for, if it were intended to establish
that kings would possess in conscience the authority set forth in this
passage, they would certainly have the right of seizing the property of
one of their subjects to give it to another. If this passage is merely
meant as a declaration of the injustices, of the extortions, and the
tyrannies of wicked monarchs, it is no less certain that in Scripture
the deed is considered unjust; for this deed is alleged as an example
of what tyrants would do; now if it had been permitted to a good
king, it would not have been quoted as an example of tyranny, as the
Scriptures suppose it.
"Thus, this text alone, even were there no other in support of this
doctrine, would satisfy me, that kings cannot lawfully compel their
subjects to relinquish their property for less than its value, not even
under pretext of the public good. In fact, were this pretext valid, it
would not have been difficult for the kings of Israel to find an excuse
for their tyranny; they might have alleged, that it was important to
the public good to reward servants whose fidelity was so advantageous
to the interests of the kingdom. Further, King Achab might have urged,
that the amusements of the prince formed a part of the public good,
since the people are so much interested in the health of the prince;
and under this pretext might have deprived Naboth of his vineyard in
order to enlarge his gardens. We find, however, that this pretext did
not justify him in compelling Naboth even to sell his vineyard; the
king, although grieved, was not offended by this man's refusal, neither
was it his intention to seize the vineyard, had not the impious Jezabel
furnished him with the means of doing so.
"Reason is evidently in favour of this opinion. Kings are the ministers
of justice, and have been appointed to administer and uphold justice
among the people. As St. Thomas teaches, the contract in buying and
selling is only just in proportion as the price is equivalent to the
thing purchased. Public, it is true, should be preferred to individual
interest; in case, therefore, that a State is in danger of dissolution,
the monarch might demand property at a less price, or even for nothing,
just as he might compel the citizen to expose his life, which is of
still greater value, in defending the common cause in a just war. This
case, however, as P. Molina observes, is impossible, since the monarch
would always be able to indemnify the individual for the loss he
sustained, by levying for this purpose a general tax, a just tribute,
and one that the State would be bound to pay. To prove this still more
clearly, let us imagine the most urgent case possible; let us suppose
that the king is besieged in his capital by a tyrant; the tyrant is
about to enter sword and torch in hand; he offers to raise the siege on
condition of receiving a statue of gold of great value, formerly the
property of his ancestors, which a subject of the besieged king, the
commander-in-chief of his armies, had taken in the plunder of a town,
and made the inalienable property of the eldest son of his family. To
render the case still more pressing, let us suppose that the tyrant has
a dearly-cherished relation in the service of the besieged king, and
that he will be satisfied if a rich lord of the kingdom, possessing
a great number of estates, be despoiled, and his property conferred
on his relation. It cannot be doubted that, in order to purchase the
lives of all, this arrangement might be entered into; and that the king
would be justified in acceding to the demand, in taking the statue, or
even the whole of this property, to confer it on the tyrant's relation.
But no one will assert that the lord should suffer the whole loss. The
State would be under the obligation of indemnifying him for the loss,
by taking upon itself the indemnification, the lord merely contributing
his quota; for this reason, that it would be opposed to natural justice
for the burdens of the whole body to fall upon a single member, which
would be the case according to the law proposed by the opponents. If,
in a case of shipwreck, all the cargo were thrown overboard to save the
ship and the lives and fortunes of all, the obligation being common
to all, it would not be just that it should fall exclusively upon the
owners; because the cargo could best be thrown overboard and most
endangered the ship's safety: the loss should be borne by all, even
by those who had with them things only of little weight, as jewels or
diamonds, for instance; since neither these latter proprietors nor
the vessel herself could be saved without lightening her by throwing
overboard the heavier portion of the cargo.
"The law decrees also that the owner of the vessel shall pay his quota.
Not that he is obliged to indemnify the owners of the merchandise
lost, because he sees them in need; it may be supposed, indeed, that
these parties are rich, and, although their present loss is extreme,
they will nevertheless be under the obligation of returning what would
then have been lent to them; for, as the doctors decide, there is no
obligation of giving to the rich man when he suffers a heavy loss, when
a loan will answer the same end. But it is said that the obligation of
the master of a ship is founded on the fact, that all the passengers
and the proprietors being interested in saving their lives and their
property, the risk and the loss of what was thrown overboard ought to
fall on all, and not exclusively on the owners of what was lost. As a
proof that this is the correct interpretation, it will be sufficient to
notice the summary of the title, and the very words of the law, which
are: _Eo quod id tributum servatæ mercedes deberent_.
"But, except in this case, or in others equally pressing, if the ruin
of the State would not result from the mere fact of an individual
refusing to yield up his house to the prince, the latter could not
compel the proprietor to give it up for a less price than its just
value, and still less for nothing; for so long as the persons and
the property of the State are safe, it is of no importance to the
body corporate whether such or such persons are rich or poor; no
one, in fact, in the general community possesses a fixed degree from
which he can neither descend nor rise. This instability observable
among the members of the same State, some losing what others gain,
and _vice versâ_, is inseparable from the state of society, such is
the instability of temporal affairs; and the public good, generally
speaking, neither loses nor gains by it."
NOTE 39, p. 382.
Some persons imagine, that in speaking of the loss of liberty in Spain,
the question may be readily reduced to one point of view, as if the
kingdom had always possessed the unity which it only acquired in the
eighteenth century, and only then in an incomplete manner. A perusal
of history, and especially of the codes of the different provinces of
which the monarchy was composed, will convince us that the central
power has been created and fortified among us very slowly; and that
at the time when this difficult task was nearly accomplished in
Castile, much still remained to be done in Aragon and Catalonia. Our
constitutions, our customs, our manners, in the seventeenth century,
evidently prove that the monarchy of Philip II., such as we conceive
it, strong and irresistible, was not yet established in the crown of
Aragon. I will abstain from adducing here documents and quoting facts
with which every one is acquainted; the dimensions of this volume
require me to be brief.
NOTE 40, p. 388.
The immortal work of Count de Maistre, in which he so ably refutes
the calumnies of the enemies of the Apostolic See, is well known.
Among so many and such profound observations, there is one deserving
of particular attention: that on the moderation of the Popes in
every thing relating to the extension of their dominions, when he
points out the difference between the Roman and the other European
Courts. "It is," says he, "a very remarkable circumstance, but either
disregarded or not sufficiently attended to, that the Popes have
never taken advantage of the great power in their possession for the
aggrandisement of their States. What could have been more natural, for
instance, or more tempting to human nature, than to reserve a portion
of the provinces conquered from the Saracens, and which they gave up
to the first occupant, to repel the Turkish ascendency, always on the
increase? But this, however, they never did, not even with regard to
the adjacent countries, as in the instance of the Two Sicilies, to
which they had incontestable rights, at least according to the ideas
then prevailing, and over which they were nevertheless contented with
an empty sovereignty, which soon ended in the _haquenée_, a slight
tribute, and merely nominal, which the bad taste of the age still
disputes with them.
"The Popes may have made too much, at the time, of this universal
sovereignty, which an opinion equally universal allowed them. They may
have exacted homage; may indeed, if you will, have too arbitrarily
imposed taxes. I do not wish to enter into these points here, but it
still remains certain that they have never sought to increase their
dominions at the expense of justice, whilst all other governments
fell under this anathema; and, at the present time even, with all
our philosophy, our civilization, and our fine books, there is not
perhaps one of the European powers in a condition to justify all its
possessions before God and reason." (_Du Pape_, book ii. chap. 6.)
NOTE 41, p. 350.
I will here insert some passages in which St. Anselm explains the
motives that induced him to write, and the method which he intended to
follow in his writings.
_Præfatio beati Anselmi Episcopi Cantuariensis in Monologuium._
Quidam fratres sæpe me studioseque precati sunt, ut quædam de illis,
quæ de meditanda divinitatis essentia, et quibusdam aliis hujus
meditationi cohærentibus, usitato sermone colloquendo protuleram,
sub quodam eis meditationis exemplo describerem. Cujus scilicet
scribendæ meditationis magis secundum suam voluntatem quam secundum rei
facilitatem aut meam possibilitatem hanc mihi formam præstituerunt:
quatenus auctoritate scripturæ penitus nihil in ea persuaderetur.
Sed quidquid per singulas investigationes finis assereret, id ita
esse plano stylo et vulgaribus argumentis simplicique disputatione,
et rationis necessitas breviter cogeret, et veritatis claritas
patenter ostenderet. Voluerunt etiam ut nec simplicibus peneque fatuis
objectionibus mihi occurrentibus obviare contemnerem, quod quidem diu
tentare recusavi, atque me cum re ipsa comparans, multis me rationibus
excusare tentavi. Quanto enim id quod petebant, usu sibi optabant
facilius: tanto mihi illud actu injungebant difficilius. Tandem
tamen victus, tum precum modesta importunitate, tum studii eorum non
contemnenda honestate, invitus quidem propter rei difficultatem, et
ingenii mei imbecillitatem, quod precabantur incæpi, sed libenter
propter eorum caritatem, quantum potui secundum ipsorum definitionem
effeci. Ad quod cum ea spe sim adductus, ut quidquid facerem illis
solis a quibus exigebatur, esset notum, et paulo post idipsum ut vilem
rem fastidientibus, contemptu esset obruendum, scio enim me in eo non
tam precantibus satisfacere potuisse, quam precibus me prosequentibus
finem posuisse. Nescio tamen quomodo sic præter spem evenit, ut non
solum prædicti fratres sed et plures alii scripturam ipsam, quisque
eam sibi transcribendo in longum memoriæ commendare satagerent, quam
ego sæpe tractans nihil potui invenire me in ea dixisse, quod non
catholicorum patrum, et maxime beati Augustini scriptis cohæreat.
Idem. _Quod hoc licet inexplicabile sit, tamen credendum sit._ (Cap.
lxii.)
Videtur mihi hujus tam sublimis rei secretum transcendere omnem
intellectus aciem humani: et idcirco conatum explicandi qualiter
hoc sit, continendum puto. Sufficere namque debere existimo rem
incomprehensibilem indaganti si ad hoc rationando pervenerit, ut eam
certissime esse cognoscat, etiamsi penetrare nequeat intellectu quomodo
ita sit, nec idcirco minus his adhibendam fidei certitudinem, quæ
probationibus necessariis nulla alia repugnante ratione asseruntur,
si suæ naturalis altitudinis incomprehensibilitate explicari non
patiantur. Quid autem tam incomprehensibile, quam id quod supra
omnia est? Quapropter si ea quæ de sua essentia hactenus disputata
sunt necessariis rationibus sunt asserta, quamvis sic intellectu
penetrari non possint ut quæ verbis valeant explicari: nullatenus
tamen certitudinis eorum nutat soliditas. Nam si superior consideratio
rationabiliter comprehendit incomprehensibile esse, quomodo eadem summa
sapientia sciat ea quæ fecit de quibus tam multa non scire necesse est;
quis explicet quomodo sciat aut dicat se ipsam, de qua aut nihil, aut
vix aliquid homini sciri possibile est?
Incipit proœmium in Prosologuion librum Anselmi, Abbatis Beccensis, et
Archiepiscopi Cantuariensis.
Postquam opusculum quoddam velut exemplum meditandi de ratione fidei,
cogentibus me precibus quorumdam fratrum in persona alicujus tacite
secum ratiocinando quæ nesciat investigantis edidi, considerans illud
esse multorum concathenatione contextum argumentorum, cœpi mecum
quærere: si forte posset invenire unum argumentum, quod nullo alio
ad se probandum, quam se solo indigeret, et solum ad astruendum quia
Deus vere est; et quia est summum bonum nullo alio indigens, et quo
omnia indigent ut sint et bene sint, et quæcumque credimus de divina
substantia sufficeret. Ad quod cum sæpe studioseque cogitationes
converterem, atque aliquando mihi videretur jam capi posse quod
quærebam, aliquando mentis aciem omnino fugeret: tandem desperans volui
cessare, velut ab inquisitione rei quam inveniri esset impossibile.
Sed cum illam cogitationem, ne mentem meam frustra occupando ab aliis
in quibus proficere possem impediret, penitus a me vellem excludere,
tunc magis ac magis nolenti et defendenti, se cœpit cum importunitate
quadam ingerere. Quadam igitur die cum vehementer ejus importunitati
resistendo fatigarer, in ipso cogitationum conflictu sic se obtulit
quod desperabam, ut studiose cogitationem amplecterer, quam sollicitus
repellebam. Æstimans igitur quod me gaudebam invenisse, si scriptum
esset alicui, legenti placiturum. De hoc ipso et quibusdam aliis
sub persona conantis erigere mentem suam ad contemplandum Deum,
et quærentis intelligere quod credit, subditum scripsi opusculum.
Et quoniam nec istud nec illud cujus supra memini, dignum libri
nomine, aut cui auctoris præponeretur nomen judicabam: nec tamen sine
aliquo titulo, quo aliquem in cujus manus venirent, quodammodo ad
se legendum invitarent, dimittenda putabam, unicuique dedi titulum:
ut prius exemplum meditandi de ratione fidei, et sequens fides
quærens intellectum diceretur. Sed cum jam a pluribus et his titulis
utrumque transumptum esset, coegerunt me plures et maxime reverendus
Archiepiscopus Lugdunensis Hugo nomine, fungens in Gallia legatione
apostolica, prœcepit auctoritate, ut nomen meum illis præscriberem.
Quod ut aptius fieret illud quidem Monologuium, id est Soliloquium,
istud vero Prosologuion, id est Alloquium nominavi.
* * * * *
I have said that St. Anselm excelled Descartes in his manner of proving
the existence of God: let the reader, indeed, peruse the following
passages. I do not, however, intend to pronounce an opinion on the
merits of this demonstration; my business is, to notice the progress of
the human mind, and not to resolve philosophical questions.
PROSOLOGUIUM D. ANSELMI.
_Quod Deus non possit cogitari non esse._
Quod utique sic vere est, ut nec cogitari possit non esse. Nam potest
cogitari esse aliquid, quod non possit cogitari non esse, quod majus
est quam quod non esse cogitari potest. Quare si id, quo majus nequit
cogitari, potest cogitari non esse: id ipsum, quo majus cogitari
nequit, non est id quo majus cogitari nequit; quod convenire non
potest. Sic ergo vere est aliquid, quo majus cogitari non potest,
ut nec cogitari possit non esse. Et hoc es tu, Domine Deus noster.
Sic ergo vere es, Domine Deus meus, ut nec cogitari possis non esse.
Et merito. Si enim aliqua mens posset cogitare aliquid melius te,
ascenderet creatura super Creatorem; et judicaret de Creatore, quod
valde est absurdum. Et quidem quidquid est aliud præter solum te,
potest cogitari non esse. Solus igitur verissime omnium, et ideo maxime
omnium habes esse, quia quidquid aliud est non sic vere est, et idcirco
minus habet esse. Cur itaque, _dixit insipiens in corde suo non est
Deus?_ Cum causa in promptu sit rationali menti, te maxime omnium esse?
Cur, nisi stultus et insipiens?
_Quomodo insipiens dixit in corde suo quod cogitari non potest._ (Cap.
iv.)
Verum quomodo dixit insipiens in corde suo quod cogitare non potuit,
aut quomodo cogitare non potuit quod dixit in corde, cum idem sit
dicere in corde, et cogitare. Quod si vere, imo quia vere, et
cogitavit: quia dixit in corde et non dixit in corde, quia cogitare non
potuit; non uno tantum modo dicitur aliquid in corde vel cogitatur.
Aliter enim cogitatur res, cum vox eam significans cogitatur: aliter
cum idipsum, quod res est, intelligitur. Illo itaque modo, potest
cogitari Deus non esse: isto vero, minime. Nullus quippe intelligens id
quod Deus est, potest cogitare quia Deus non est; licet hæc verba dicat
in corde, aut sine ulla, aut cum aliqua extranea significatione. Deus
enim, est id quo majus cogitari non potest. Quod qui bene intelligit,
utique intelligit id ipsum sic esse, ut nec cogitatione queat non
esse. Qui ergo intelligit sic esse Deum, nequit eum non esse cogitare.
Gratias tibi, bone Domine, gratias tibi, quia quod prius credidi te
donante, jam sic intelligo te illuminante; ut si te esse nolim credere,
non possim non intelligere.
_Ejusdem beati Anselmi liber pro insipiente incipit._
Dubitanti, utrum sit; vel neganti quod sit aliqua talis natura, qua
nihil majus cogitari possit; tamen esse illam, huic dicitur primo
probari; quod ipse negans vel ambigens de illa, jam habeat eam in
intellectu, cum audiens illam dici, id quod dicitur intelligit: deinde,
quia quod intelligit necesse est, ut non in solo intellectu, sed etiam
in re sit. Et hoc ita probatur; quia majus est esse in intellectu et in
re, quam in solo intellectu. Et si illud in solo est intellectu, majus
illo erit quidquid etiam fuerit in re, at si majus omnibus, minus erit
aliquo, et non erit majus omnibus quod utique repugnat. Et ideo necesse
est ut, majus omnibus, quod est jam probatum esse in intellectu, et
in re sit; quoniam aliter majus omnibus esse non poterit. Responderi
potest, quod hoc jam esse dicitur in intellectu meo, non ob aliud, nisi
quia id quod dicitur intelligo.
* * * * *
The passages I have just quoted will have shewn to my readers that
thought was not oppressed in the Catholic Church. The most eminent
doctors were accustomed to reason on the most important subjects
with a just and reasonable independence; and although with profound
respect for the teaching of the Catholic Church, they nevertheless
surveyed, as well as Abelard and better, the field of true philosophy.
We cannot expect from human intelligence at this epoch more than is
to be found in St. Anselm. How is it, therefore, that such eulogiums
have been passed upon Roscelin and Abelard, without ever mentioning
this holy doctor? Why present a picture of the intellectual movement so
incomplete, and not insert in it so noble and beautiful a figure?
If you would know how incorrect it is that Abelard, as M. Guizot
affirms, abstained from attacking the doctrines of the Church--how
incorrect M. Guizot is in his statement of the causes which excited the
zeal of the pastors of the Church against Abelard, read the letter of
the Bishops of Gaul to Pope Innocent, in which you will find a complete
recital of the origin and cause of this important affair. Here is the
letter:
EPISTOLA CCCLXX.
_Reverendissimo Patri et Domino, INNOCENTIO, Dei gratia summo
Pontifici, Henricus Senonensium Archiepiscopus, Carnotensis Episcopus,
Sanctæ Sedis Apostolicæ famulus, Aurelianensis, Antissiodorensis,
Trecensis, Meldensis Episcopi, devotas orationes et debitam
obedientiam._
Nulli dubium est quod ea quæ Apostolica firmantur auctoritate, rata
semper existunt; nec alicujus possunt deinceps mutilari cavillatione,
vel invidia depravari. Ea propter ad vestram Apostolicam Sedem,
Beatissime Pater, referre dignum censuimus quædam quæ nuper in
nostra contigit tractari præsentia. Quæ quoniam et nobis, et multis
religiosis ac sapientibus viris rationabiliter acta visa sunt, vestræ
serenitatis expectant comprobari judicio, simul et auctoritate perpetuo
roborari. Itaque cum per totam fere Galliam in civitatibus, vicis, et
castellis, a Scholaribus non solum intra Scholas, sed etiam triviatim:
nec a litteratis, aut provectis tantum, sed a pueris et simplicibus,
aut certe stultis, de Sancta Trinitate, quæ Deus est, disputaretur:
insuper alia multa ab eisdem, absona prorsus et absurda, et plane fidei
catholicæ, sanctorumque Patrum auctoritatibus obviantia proferrentur;
cumque ab his qui sane sentiebant, et eas ineptias rejiciendas esse
censebant, sæpius admoniti corriperentur, vehementius convalescebant,
et auctoritate magistri sui Petri Abailardi, et cujusdam ipsius libri,
cui _Theologiæ_ indiderat nomen; nec non et aliorum ejusdem opusculorum
freti ad astruendas profanas adinventiones illas, non sine multarum
animarum dispendio, sese magis ac magis armabant. Quæ enim et nos, et
alios plures non parum moverant ac læserant; inde tamen quæstionem
facere verebantur.
Verum Dominus Abbas Claræ-vallis, his a diversis et sæpius auditis,
immo certe in prætaxato magistri Petri _Theologiæ_ libro, nec non et
aliis ejusdem libris, in quorum forte lectionem inciderat, diligenter
inspectis; secreto prius; ac deinde secum duobus aut tribus adhibitis
testibus, juxta Evangelicum præceptum, hominem convenit: Et ut
auditores suos a talibus compesceret, librosque suos corrigeret,
amicabiliter satis ac familiariter illum admonuit. Plures etiam
Scholarium adhortatus est, ut et libros venenis plenos repudiarent
et rejicerent: et a doctrina, quæ fidem lædebat Catholicam, caverent
et abstinerent. Quod magister Petrus minus patienter et nimium ægre
ferens, crebro nos pulsare cœpit, nec ante voluit desistere, quoad
Dominum Clara-vellensem Abbatem super hoc scribentes, assignato die,
scilicet octavo Pentecostes, Senonis ante nostram submonuimus venire
præsentiam: quo se vocabat et offerebat paratum magister Petrus ad
probandas et defendendas de quibus illum Dominus Abbas Clara-vallensis,
quomodo prætaxatum est, reprehenderat sententias. Cæterum Dominus
Abbas, nec ad assignatum diem se venturum, nec contra Petrum sese
disceptaturum nobis remandavit. Sed quia magister Petrus interim suos
nihilominus cœpit undequaque convocare discipulos; et obsecrare, ut ad
futuram inter se, Dominumque Abbatem Clara-vallensem disputationem,
una cum illo suam sententiam simul et scientiam defensuri venirent; Et
hoc Dominum Clara-vallensem minime lateret; veritus ipse, ne propter
occasionem absentiæ suæ tot profanæ, non sententiæ sed insaniæ, tam
apud minus intelligentes, quam earumdem defensores majore dignæ
viderentur auctoritate, prædicto quem sibi designaveramus die, licet
eum minime suscepisset, tactus zelo pii fervoris, imo certe Sancti
Spiritus igne succensus, sese nobis ultro Senonis præsentavit. Illa
vero die, scilicet octava Pentecostes, convenerant ad nos Senonis
Fratres et Suffraganei nostri Episcopi, ob honorem et reverentiam
sanctarum, quas in Ecclesia nostra populo revelaturos nos indixeramus,
Reliquiarum.
Itaque præsente glorioso Rege Francorum Ludovico cum Wilhelmo religioso
Nivernis Comite, Domino quoque Rhemensi Archiepiscopo, cum quibusdam
suis suffraganeis Episcopis nobis etiam, et suffraganeis nostris,
exceptis Parisiis et Nivernis, Episcopis præsentibus, cum multis
religiosis Abbatibus et sapientibus, valdeque litteratis clericis
adfuit Dominus Abbas Clara-vallensis; adfuit magister Petrus cum
fautoribus suis. Quid multa? Dominus Abbas cum librum Theologiæ
magistri Petri proferret in medium, et quæ annotaverat absurda, imo
hæretica plane capitula de libro eodem proponeret, ut ea magister
Petrus vel a se scripta negaret, vel si sua fateretur, aut probaret,
aut corrigeret: visus est diffidere magister Petrus Abailardus, et
subterfugere, respondere noluit, sed quamvis libera sibi daretur
audientia, tutumque locum, et æquos haberet judices, ad vestram tamen,
sanctissime Pater, appellans præsentiam, cum suis a conventu discessit.
Nos autem licet appellatio ista, minus Canonica videretur, Sedi tamen
Apostolicæ deferentes, in personam hominis nullam voluimus proferre
sententiam: Cæterum sententias pravi dogmatis ipsius, quia multo
infecerant, et sui contagione adusque cordium intima penetraverant,
sæpe in audientia publica lectas et relectas, et tam verissimis
rationibus, quam Beati Augustini, aliorumque Sanctorum Patrum inductis
a Domino Clara-vallensi auctoritatibus, non solum falsas, sed et
hæreticas esse evidentissime comprobatas, pridie ante factam ad vos
appellationem damnavimus. Et quia multos in errorem perniciosissimum
et plane damnabilem pertrahunt, eas auctoritate vestra, dilectissime
Domine, perpetua damnatione notari; et omnes qui pervicaciter et
contentiose illas defenderint, a vobis, æquissime Pater, juxta pœna
mulctari unanimiter et multa precum instantia postulamus.
Sæpe dicto vero Petro, si Reverentia vestra silentium imponeret, et tam
legendi, quam scribendi prorsus interrumperet facultatem, et libros
ejus perverso sine dubio dogmate respersos condemnaret, avulsis spinis
et tribulis ab Ecclesia Dei, prevaleret adhuc læta Christi seges
succrescere, florere, fructificare. Quædam autem de condemnatis a nobis
capitulis vobis, Reverende Pater, conscripta transmisimus, ut per hæc
audita reliqui corpus operis facilius æstimetis.
Observe how St Bernard explains the system and errors of the celebrated
Abelard. In chapter 1 of the treatise which he wrote, _De erroribus
Petri Abailardi_, he says:
"Habemus in Francia novum de veteri magistro Theologum, qui ab ineunte
ætate sua in arte dialectica lusit; et nunc in scripturis sanctis
insanit. Olim damnata et sopita dogmata, tam sua videlicet quam aliena
suscitare conatur, insuper et nova addit. Qui dum omnium quæ sunt cœlo
sursum, et quæ in terra deorsum, nihil præter solum Nescio nescire
dignatur; ponit in cœlum os suum, et scrutatur alta Dei, rediensque
ad nos refert verba ineffabilia, quæ non licet homini loqui. Et
dum paratus est de omnibus reddere rationem, etiam quæ sunt supra
rationem, et contra rationem præsumit, et contra fidem. Quid enim magis
contra rationem, quam ratione rationem conari transcendere? Et quid
magis contra fidem; quam credere nolle, quidquid non possit ratione
attingere?"
In chapter 4, he sums up, in a few words, the aberrations of the
dialectician:
"Sed advertite cætera. Omitto quod dicit spiritum timoris Domini
non fuisse in Domino: timorem Domini castum in future seculo non
futurum: post consecrationem panis et calicis priora accidentia quæ
remanent pendere in aere: dæmonum in nobis suggestiones contactu
fieri lapidum et herbarum, prout illorum sagax malitia novit; harum
rerum vires diversas, diversis incitandis et incendendis vitiis,
convenire: Spiritum Sanctum esse animam mundi: mundum juxta Platonem
tanto excellentius animal esse, quanto meliorem animam habet Spiritum
Sanctum. Ubi dum multum sudat quomodo Platonem faciat Christianum, se
probat ethnicum. Hæc inquam omnia, aliasque istiusmodi nænias ejus
non paucas prætereo, venio ad graviora. Non quod vel ad ipsa cuncta
respondeam, magnis enim opus voluminibus esset. Illa loquor quæ tacere
non possum.
"Cum de Trinitate loquitur," says he in his letter 192, "sapit Arium,
cum de Gratia sapit Pelagium, cum de persona Christi sapit Nestorium."
Pope Innocent, condemning the doctrines of Abelard, says: "In Petri
Abailardi perniciosa doctrina, et prædictorum hæreses, et alia perversa
dogmata catholicæ fidei obviantia pullulare cœperunt."
APPENDIX.
NOTE (a), p. 289.
Quod necesse est homines simul viventes ab aliquo diligenter regi.
Et siquidem homini conveniret singulariter vivere, sicut multis
animalium, nullo alio dirigente indigeret ad finem, sed ipse sibi
unusquisque esset rex sub Deo summo rege, in quantum per lumen rationis
divinitus datum sibi, in suis actibus seipsum dirigeret. Naturale
autem est homini ut sit animal sociale, et politicum, in multitudine
vivens, magis etiam quam omnia alia animalia; quod quidem naturalis
necessitas declarat. Aliis enim animalibus natura præparavit cibum,
tegumenta pilorum, defensionem, ut dentes, cornua, ungues, vel saltem
velocitatem ad fugam. Homo autem institutus est nullo horum sibi a
natura præparato, sed loco omnium data est ei ratio, per quam sibi hæc
omnia officio manuum posset præparare, ad quæ omnia præparanda unus
homo non sufficit. Nam unus homo per se sufficienter vitam transigere
non posset. Est igitur homini naturale, quod in societate multorum
vivat. Amplius, aliis animalibus insita est naturalis industria ad
omnia ea quæ sunt eis utilia vel nociva, sicut ovis naturaliter extimet
lupum inimicum. Quædam etiam animalia ex naturali industria cognoscunt
aliquas herbas medicinales, et alia eorum vitæ necessaria. Homo autem
horum, quæ sunt suæ vitæ necessaria, naturalem cognitionem habet solum
in communi, quasi eo per rationem valente ex universalibus principiis
ad cognitionem singulorum, quæ necessaria sunt humanæ vitæ, pervenire.
Non est autem possibile, quod unus homo ad omnia hujusmodi per suam
rationem pertingat. Est igitur necessarium homini, quod in multitudine
vivat, et unus ab alio adjuvetur, et diversi diversis inveniendis
per rationem occuparentur, puta, unus in medicina, alius in hoc,
alius in alio. Hoc etiam evidentissime declaratur per hoc, quod est
proprium hominis locutione uti, per quam unus homo aliis suum conceptum
totaliter potest exprimere. Alia quidem animalia exprimunt mutuo
passiones suas, in communi, ut canis in latratu iram, et alia animalia
passiones suas diversis modis. Magis igitur homo est communicativus
alteri, quam quodcumque aliud animal, quod gregale videtur, ut grus,
formica, et apis. Hoc ergo considerans Salomon in Ecclesiaste ait:
"Melius est esse duos, quam unum. Habent enim emolumentum mutuæ
societatis." Si ergo naturale est homini quod in societate multorum
vivat, necesse est in hominibus esse, per quod multitudo regatur.
Multis enim existentibus hominibus et uno quoque id quod est sibi
congruum providente, multitudo in diversa dispergeretur, nisi etiam
esset aliquis de eo quod ad bonum multitudinis pertinet, curam habens,
sicut et corpus hominis, et cujuslibet animalis deflueret, nisi esset
aliqua vis regitiva communis in corpore, quæ ad bonum commune omnium
membrorum intenderet. Quod considerans Salomon dicit: "Ubi non est
gubernator, dissipabitur populus." Hoc autem rationabiliter accidit:
non enim idem est quod proprium, et quod commune. Secundum propria
quidem differunt, secundum autem commune uniuntur: diversorum autem
diversæ sunt causæ. Oportet igitur præter id quod movet ad proprium
bonum uniuscujusque, esse aliquid, quod movet ad bonum commune
multorum. Propter quod et in omnibus quæ in unum ordinantur, aliquid
invenitur alterius regitivum. In universitate enim corporum, per primum
corpus, scilicet celeste, alia corpora ordine quodam divinæ providentiæ
reguntur, omniaque corpora, per creaturam rationalem. In uno etiam
homine anima regit corpus, atque inter animæ partes irascibilis et
concupiscibilis ratione reguntur. Itemque inter membra corporis unum
est principale, quod omnia movet, ut cor, aut caput. Oportet igitur
esse in omni multitudine aliquod regitivum. (D. Th., Opusc. de Regimine
Principum, l. i. cap. 1.)
NOTE (b), p. 290.
Ubi considerandum est, quod dominium, vel prælatio introducta sunt
ex jure humano: distinctio autem fidelium et infidelium est ex jure
divino. Jus autem divinum quod est ex gratia, non tollit jus humanum
quod est ex naturali ratione; ideo distinctio fidelium et infidelium
secundum se considerata, non tollit dominium, et prælationem infidelium
supra fideles. (2. 2. quest. 10, art. 10.)
NOTE (c), p. 290.
Respondeo dicendum quod sicut supra dictum est (quest. 10, art. 10),
infidelitas secundum se ipsam non repugnat dominio, eo quod dominium
introductum est de jure gentium, quod est jus humanum. Distinctio autem
fidelium et infidelium est secundum jus divinum, per quod non tollitur
jus humanum. (2. 2. quest. 12, art. 2.)
NOTE (d), p. 290.
Respondeo dicendum quod sicut actiones rerum naturalium procedunt ex
potentiis naturalibus: ita etiam operationes humanæ procedunt ex humana
voluntate. Oportuit autem in rebus naturalibus, ut superiora moverent
inferiora ad suas actiones per excellentiam naturalis virtutis collatæ
divinitus. Unde et oportet in rebus humanis, quod superiores moveant
inferiores per suam voluntatem ex vi auctoritatis divinitus ordinatæ.
Movere autem per rationem et voluntatem est præcipere; et ideo sicut ex
ipso ordine naturali divinitus instituto inferiora in rebus naturalibus
necesse habent subjici motioni superiorum, ita etiam in rebus humanis
ex ordine juris naturalis et divini, tenentur inferiores suis
superioribus obedire. (2. 2. quest. 105, art. 1.)
NOTE (e), p. 291.
Obedire autem superiori debitum est secundum divinum ordinem rebus
inditum ut ostensum est. (2. 2. quest. 104, art. 2.)
NOTE (f), p. 291.
Respondeo dicendum quod fides Christi est justitiæ principium, et
causa, secundum illud Rom. iii. "Justitia Dei per fidem Jesu Christi;"
et ideo per fidem Christi non tollitur ordo justitiæ sed magis
firmatur. Ordo autem justitiæ requirit, ut inferiores suis superioribus
obediant: aliter enim non posset humanarum rerum status conservari.
Et ideo per fidem Christi non excusantur fideles, quin principibus
secularibus obedire teneantur. (2. 2. quest. 105, art. 6.)
NOTE (g), p. 291.
Certum est politicam potestatem a Deo esse a quo non nisi res bonæ et
licitæ procedunt, et quod probat Aug. in toto fere 4 et 5 libr. de
Civit. Dei. Nam sapientia Dei clamat, Proverb. viii.: Per me reges
regnant; et infra: Per me principes imperant. Et Daniel ii.: Deus cœli
regnum et imperium dedit tibi, &c.; et Daniel iv.: Cum bestiis ferisque
erit habitatio tua, et fenum, ut bos comedes, et rore cœli infunderis:
septem quoque tempora mutabuntur super te, donec scias quod dominetur
Excelsus super regnum hominum, et cuicumque voluerit, det illud. (Bell.
de Laicis, l. iii. c. 6.)
NOTE (h), p. 291.
Sed hic observanda sunt aliqua. Primo politicam potestatem in
universum consideratam, non descendendo in particulari ad monarchiam,
aristocratiam, vel democratiam immediate esse a solo Deo; nam
consequitur necessario naturam hominis, proinde esse ab illo, qui fecit
naturam hominis; præterea hæc potestas est de jure naturæ, non enim
pendet ex consensu hominum, nam velint, nolint, debent regi ab aliquo,
nisi velint perire humanum genus, quod est contra naturæ inclinationem.
At jus naturæ est jus divinum, jure igitur divino introducta est
gubernatio, et hoc videtur proprie velle Apostolus, cum dicit Rom.
xiii: Qui potestati resistit, Dei ordinationi resistit. (Ib.)
NOTE (i), p. 292.
Secundo nota, hanc potestatem immediate esse tanquam in subjecto, in
tota multitudine, nam hæc potestas est de jure divino. At jus divinum
nulli homini particulari dedit hanc potestatem, ergo dedit multitudini;
præterea sublato jure positivo, non est major ratio cur ex multis
æqualibus unus potius, quam alius dominetur: igitur potestas totius est
multitudinis. Denique humana societas debet esse perfecta respublica,
ergo debet habere potestatem se ipsam conservandi, et proinde puniendi
perturbatores pacis, &c. (Ib.)
NOTE (k), p. 293.
Tertio nota, hanc potestatem transferri a multitudine in unum vel
plures eodem jure naturæ: nam Respub. non potest per seipsam exercere
hanc potestatem, ergo tenetur eam transferre in aliquem unum vel
aliquos paucos; et hoc modo potestas principum in genere considerata,
est etiam de jure naturæ, et divino; nec posset genus humanum, etiamsi
totum simul conveniret, contrarium statuere, nimirum, ut nulli essent
principes vel rectores. (Ib.)
NOTE (l), p. 293.
Quarto nota, in particulari singulas species regiminis esse de jure
gentium, non de jure naturæ; nam pendet a consensu multitudinis,
constituere super se regem vel consules, vel alios magistratus, ut
patet: et si causa legitima adsit, potest multitudo mutare regnum in
aristocratiam, aut democratiam, et e contrario ut Romæ factum legimus.
Quinto nota, ex dictis sequi, hanc potestatem in particulari esse
quidem a Deo, sed mediante consilio, et electione humana, ut
alia omnia, quæ ad jus gentium pertinent, jus enim gentium est
quasi conclusio deducta ex jure naturæ per humanum discursum. Ex
quo colliguntur duæ differentiæ inter potestatem politicam, et
ecclesiasticam: una ex parte subjecti, nam politica est in multitudine,
ecclesiastica in uno homine tanquam in subjecto immediate; altera ex
parte efficientis, quod politica universe considerata est de jure
divino, in particulari considerata est de jure gentium; ecclesiastica
omnibus modis est de jure divino, et immediate a Deo. (Ib.)
NOTE (m), p. 294.
In hac re communis sententia videtur esse, hanc potestatem dari
immediate a Deo ut auctore naturæ, ita ut homines quasi disponant
materiam et efficiant subjectum capax hujus potestatis; Deus autem
quasi tribuat formam dando hanc potestatem. Cita a Cajet. Covar.
Victor. y Soto. (De Leg. l. iii. c. 3.)
NOTE (n), p. 294.
Secundo sequitur ex edictis, potestatem civilem, quoties in uno homine,
vel principe reperitur, legitimo, ac ordinario jure, a populo, et
communitate manasse, vel proxime vel remote, nec posse aliter haberi,
ut justa sit. (Ibid. cap. 4.)
NOTE (o), p. 294.
Defensio Fidei Catholicæ et Apostolicæ adversus Anglicanæ sectæ
errores, cum responsione ad apologiam pro juramento fidelitatis et
præfationem monitoriam serenissimi Jacobi Angliæ Regis, Authore P.
D. Francisco Suario Gratanensi, e Societate Jesu, Sacræ Theologiæ in
celebri Conimbricensi Academia Primario Professore, ad serenissimos
totius Christiani orbis Catholicos Reges ac Principes.
Lib. 3. De Primatu Summi Pontificis, cap. 2. Utrum Principatus
politicus sit immediate a Deo, seu ex divina institutione.
..... In qua rex serenissimus non solum novo, et singulari modo opinatur,
sed etiam acriter invehitur in Cardinalem Bellarminum, eo quod
asseruerit, non regibus authoritatem a Deo _immediate_, perinde ac
pontificibus esse concessam. Asserit ergo ipse, regem non a populo,
sed _immediate_ a Deo suam potestatem habere; suam vero sententiam
quibusdam argumentis, et exemplis suadere conatur, quorum efficaciam in
sequenti capite expendemus.
_Sed quamquam controversia hæc ad fidei dogmata directe non pertineat_
(_nihil enim ex divina Scriptura, aut Patrum traditione in illa
definitum ostendi potest_), nihilominus diligenter tractanda, et
explicanda est. Tum quia potest esse occasio errandi in aliis
dogmatibus; tum etiam quia prædicta regis sententia, prout ab ipso
asseritur et intenditur, nova et singularis est, et ad exaggerandam
temporalem potestatem, et spiritualem extenuandam videtur inventa. Tum
denique quia sententiam illustrissimi Bellarmini _antiquam, receptam,
veram, ac necessariam esse censemus_.
NOTE (p), p. 295.
R. P. Hermanni Busembaum Societatis Jesu Theologia Moralis, nunc
pluribus partibus aucta a R. P. D. Alphonso de Ligorio Rectore majore
congregationis SS. Redemptoris; adjuncta in calce operis, præter
indicem rerum, et verborum locupletissimum, perutili instructione ad
praxim confessariorium Latine reddita.
Lib. 1, Tract. 2. De legibus, cap. 1. De natura, et obligatione legis.
Dub. 2.
104. Certum est dari in hominibus potestatem ferendi leges; sed
potestas hæc quoad leges civiles a natura nemini competit, nisi
communitati hominum, et ab hac transfertur in unum, vel in plures, a
quibus communitas regatur.
NOTE (q), p. 295.
Theologia Christiana Dogmatico-Moralis Auctore P. F. Daniele Concina
ordinis Prædicatorum. Editio novissima, tomus sextus, de Jure nat. et
gent., &c. Romæ, 1768.
Lib. 1. De Jure natur. et gent., &c. Dissertatio 4, De leg. hum. C. 2.
Summæ potestatis originem a Deo communiter arcessunt scriptores omnes.
Idque declaravit Salomon, Prov. viii. "Per me reges regnant, et legum
conditores justa decernunt." Et profecto quemadmodum inferiores
principes a summa majestate, ita summa majestas terrena a supremo Rege,
Dominoque dominantium pendeat necesse est. Illud in disputationem
vocant tum theologi, tum jurisconsulti, sit ne a Deo proxime, an tantum
remote hæc potestas summa? Immediate a Deo haberi contendunt plures,
quod ab hominibus neque conjunctim, neque sigillatim acceptis haberi
possit. Omnes enim patres familias æquales sunt, solaque œconomica
in propias familias potestate fruuntur. Ergo civilem politicamque
potestatem, qua ipsi carent, conferre aliis nequeunt. Tum si potestas
summa a communitate, tanquam a superiore, uni, aut pluribus collata
esset, revocari ad nutum ejusdem communitatis posset; cum superior pro
arbitrio retractare communicatam potestatem valeat; quod in magnum
societatis detrimentum recideret.
Contra disputant alii, et _quidem probabilius ac verius_, advertentes
omnem quidem potestatem a Deo esse; sed addunt, non transferri in
particulares homines immediate, sed mediante societatis civilis
consensu. Quod hæc potestas sit immediate, non in aliquo singulari,
sed in tota hominum collectione, docet conceptis verbis S. Thomas
1. 2. qu. 90. art. 3 ad 2. et qu. 97. art. 3 ad 3 quem sequuntur
Dominicus Soto, lib. 1. qu. 1. art. 3. Ledesma 2. Part. qu. 18. art.
3. Covarruvias in pract. cap. 1. Ratio evidens est: quia omnes homines
nascuntur liberi, respectu civilis imperii; ergo nemo in alterum civili
potestate potitur. Neque ergo in singulis, neque in aliquo determinato
potestas hæc reperitur. Consequitur ergo in tota hominum collectione
eamdem extare. Quæ potestas non confertur a Deo per aliquam actionem
peculiarem a creatione distinctam; sed est veluti proprietas ipsam
rectam rationem consequens, quatenus recta ratio præscribit ut homines
in unum moraliter congregati, expresso aut tacito concensu modum
dirigendæ, conservandæ, propugnandæque societatis præscribant.
NOTE (r), p. 296.
Hinc infertur, potestatem residentem in principe, rege, vel in
pluribus, aut optimatibus, aut plebeiis, ab ipsa communitate aut
proxime, aut remote proficisci. Nam potestas hæc a Deo immediate non
est. Id enim nobis constare peculiari revelatione deberet; quemadmodum
scimus, Saulem et Davidem electos a Deo fuisse. Ab ipsa ergo
communitate dimanet oportet.
Falsam itaque reputamus opinionem illam quæ asserit, potestatem hanc
immediate et proxime a Deo conferri regi, principi, et cuique supremæ
potestati, excluso Reipublicæ tacito, aut expresso consensu. Quamquam
lis hæc verborum potius quam rei est. Nam potestas hæc a Deo auctore
naturæ est, quatenus disposuit, et ordinavit ut ipsa Respublica pro
societatis conservatione, et defensione, uni, aut pluribus supremam
regiminis potestatem conferret. Immo facta designatione imperantis, aut
imperantium, potestas hæc a Deo manare dicitur, quatenus jure naturali,
et divino tenetur, societas ipsa parere imperanti. Quoniam reipsa Deus
ordinavit ut per unum, aut per plures hominum societas regatur. Et
hac via omnia conciliantur placita: et oracula Scripturarum vero in
sensu exponuntur. Qui resistit potestati, Dei ordinationi resistit. Et
iterum: Non est potestas nisi a Deo: ad Rom. viii. Et Petrus Epist. 1,
cap. ii. Subjecti igitur estote omni humanæ creaturæ propter Deum: sive
Regi, &c. Item Joan. xix. Non haberes potestatem adversum me ullam,
nisi tibi datum esset desuper. Quæ, alia testimonia evincunt, omnia
a Deo, supremo rerum omnium moderatore, disponi, et ordinari. At non
propterea humana consilia, et operationes excluduntur; ut sapienter
interpretantur S. Augustinus tract. 6, in Joan. et lib. 22. cont.
Faustum, cap. 47, et S. Joannes Chrysostomus Hom. 23, in Epist. ad Rom.
NOTE (s), p. 296.
Quinam possint ferre leges? Dico 1. Potestas legislativa competit
communitati vel illi, qui curam communitatis gerit. (Ibid. art. 3. 0.)
Prob. 1. Ex Isidoro L. 5. Etymol. C. 10 et refertur C. Lex, Dist. 4.
ubi dicit: Lex est constitutio populi, secundum quam majores natu simul
cum plebibus aliquid sanxerunt. (Ibid. in art. 1. 0.)
Prob. 1. Ratione. (Ibid. 0.) Illius est condere legem, cujus est
prospicere bono communi; quia, ut dictum est, leges feruntur propter
bonum commune: atqui est communis, vel illius, cui curam communitatis
habet, prospicere bono communi: sicut enim bonum particulare est
finis proportionatus agenti particulari, ita bonum commune est finis
proportionatus communitati, vel ejus vices gerenti; ergo. Confirmatur:
(Ibid. ad 2.) lex habet vim imperandi et coercendi; atqui nemo privatus
habet vim imperandi multitudini et eam coercendi, sed sola ipsa
multitudo, vel ejus Rector: Ergo. (Tract. de Legi. Art. 4.)
NOTE (t), p. 296.
Dices: Superioris est imperare et coercere; atqui communitas non
est sibi superior: Ergo R. D. Min. Communitas, sub eodem respectu
considerata, non est sibi superior, C. Sub diverso respectu, N. Potest
itaque communitas considerari collective, per modum unius corporis
moralis, et sic considerata est superior sibi consideratæ distributive
in singulis membris. Item potest considerari vel ut gerit vices Dei,
a quo omnis potestas legislativa descendit, juxta illud Proverb. Per
me reges regnant, et legum conditores justa decernunt; vel ut est
gubernabilis in ordine ad bonum commune: primo modo considerata est
superior et legislativa; secundo modo considerata est inferior et legis
susceptiva.
NOTE (u), p. 297.
Quod ut clarius percipiatur, observandum est hominem inter animalia
nasci maxime destitutum pluribus tum corporis cum animæ necessariis,
pro quibus indiget aliorum consortio et adjutorio, consequenter eum
ipsapte natura nasci animal sociale: societas autem quam natura,
naturalisve ratio dictat ipsi necessariam, diu subsistere non potest,
nisi aliqua publica potestate gubernetur; juxta illud Proverb. Ubi
non est gubernator, populus corruet. Ex quo sequitur, quod Deus,
qui dedit talem naturam, simul ei dederit potestatem gubernativam
et legislativam, qui enim dat formam, dat etiam ea, quæ hæc forma
necessario exigit. Verum, quia hæc potestas gubernativa et legislativa
non potest exerceri a tota multitudine; difficile namque foret,
omnes et singulos simul convenire toties quoties providendum est de
necessariis bono communi, et de legibus ferendis; ideo solet multitudo
transferre suum jus seu potestatem gubernativam, vel in aliquos de
populo ex omni conditione, et dicitur Democratia; vel in paucos
optimates, et dicitur Aristocratia; vel in unum tantum, sive pro se
solo, sive pro successoribus jure hæreditario, et dicitur Monarchia. Ex
quo sequitur, omnem potestatem esse a Deo, ut dicit Apost. Rom. xiii.
immediate quidem et jure naturæ in communitate, mediate autem tantum et
jure humano in Regibus et aliis Rectoribus: nisi Deus ipse immediate
aliquibus hanc potestatem conferat, ut contulit Moysi in populum
Israel, et Christus SS. Pontifici in totam Ecclesiam.
_Hanc potestatem legislativam_ in Christianos, _maxime justos, non
agnoscunt, Lutherani et Calvinistæ, secuti in hoc Valdenses, Wicleffum,
et Joan. Hus damnatos in Conc. Constant. sess. 6. can. 15. Et quamvis
Joannes Hus eam agnosceret in principibus bonis, eam tamen denegabat
malis, pariter ideo damnatus in eodem Concil. sess. 8._
NOTE (x), p. 297.
Compendium Salmatic. authore R. P. F. R. Antonio a S. Joseph olim
Lectore, priore ac examinatore Synodali in suo collegio Burgensi, nunc
procuratore generali in Romana Curia pro Carmelitarum Discalceatorum
Hispanica Congregatione. Romæ, 1779. Superiorum permissu. Tractatus 3,
De Legibus, cap. 2. De potestate ferendi leges.
Punctum 1. De potestate legislativa civili.
Inq. 1. An detur in hominibus potestas condendi leges civiles? R.
Affirm. constat ex illo Prov. viii. Per me reges regnant, et legum
conditores justa decernunt. Idem patet ex Apost. ad Rom. xiii. et
tanquam de fide est definitum in Conc. Const. sess. 8, et ultima.
Prob. ration. quia ad conservationem boni communis requiritur publica
potestas, qua communitas gubernetur: nam ubi non est gubernator,
corruet populus, sed nequid gubernator communitatem nisi mediis legibus
gubernare: ergo certum est dari in hominibus potestatem condendi leges,
quibus populus possit gubernari. Ita D. Th. lib. i. de regim. princip.
c. 1 et 2.
Inq. 2. An potestas legislativa civilis conveniat principi immediate a
Deo? R. omnes asserunt dictam potestatem habere principes a Deo. Verius
tamen dicitur, non _immediate_ sed _mediante_ populi consensu illam
eos a Deo recipere. Nam omnes homines sunt in natura æquales, nec unus
est superior, nec alius inferior ex natura, nulli enim dedit natura
supra alterum potestatem, sed hæc a Deo data est hominum communitati,
quæ judicans rectius fore gubernandum per unam vel per plures personas
determinatas, suam transtulit potestatem in unam, vel plures, a quibus
regeretur, ut ait D. Th. 1. 2. q. 90. a. 3. ad. 2.
Ex hoc naturali principio oritur discrimen regiminis civilis. Nam si
Respublica transtulit omnem suam potestatem in unum solum, appellatur
Regimen Monarchicum; si illam contulit Optimatibus populi, nuncupatur
Regimen Aristocraticum; si vero populus, aut Respublica sibi retineat
talem potestatem, dicitur Regimen Democraticum. Habent igitur Principes
regendi potestatem a Deo, quia supposita electione a Republica facta,
Deus illam potestatem, quæ in communitate erat, Principi confert.
Unde ipse nomine Dei regit, et gubernat, et qui illi resistit, Dei
ordinationi resistit, ut dicit Apost. loco supra laudato.
INDEX.
Abbon, a monk--his poem on the siege of Paris, 241.
Abelard, account of, 401;
error of M. Guizot with regard to him, 402;
document proving this, 486.
Abuses, checked by the Church, 422.
Adhemar, his chronicle, 241.
Adon, Archbishop of Vienne--his work on universal history, 241.
Adrian (Pope) protects the marriages of slaves, 113;
his doctrine on the right of slaves to marry, 113.
Agde, Councils of, 103;
ibid. decree against those who refused to be reconciled, 176.
Aix-la-Chapelle, Council of, enjoins bishops to found hospitals to
contain all the poor that their revenues can support, 188.
Albigenses described, 252.
Alphonsus (of Ligouri), on power of making laws, 295.
Amat (Don Felix), his false political theory, 333;
ibid. on resistance to government, 471.
Ambrose (St.), conduct of towards the Emperor Theodosius, 178;
sells the sacred vessels to redeem slaves, 432.
Anabaptists, excesses committed by, in Germany in the 16th century, 197.
Angers, Council of, its decree against acts of violence, 176.
Anselm (St.), writings of, 403;
ibid. on St. Paul to the Romans, 459;
extracts from, showing his way of viewing religious matters, 485;
intellectual movement in the Church within the limits of faith, 486;
he anticipates Descartes' demonstration of the existence of a God, 485.
Arabians, their civilization described, 237;
probability that they were indebted to the eastern monasteries for
much of their knowledge, 237;
the connexion between their science and that of antiquity may yet be
found, 237.
Arbogen, Council of, forbids church burial to be given to pirates,
ravishers, &c., 182.
Aristocracy in the 16th century, consisted of the nobles and clergy, 348;
differences between them, 349;
intermediate class between the throne and the people, 349.
Aristotle, immoral doctrine of, 443;
his views on public education, 443;
his absurd interference of the State in domestic matters, 443;
his doctrines reformed by Christianity, 351.
Arles, Council of, its decree against feuds, 177.
Armagh, Council of, 109;
ibid. frees all the English slaves, 437.
Association, a favorite principle of Catholicity, 189.
Atheism, tendency towards, in the 17th century, 61.
Augustin (St.), his description of paganism, 89;
his noble sentiments on slavery, 111;
remarkable passages from, on political forms, 390;
on the name Catholic being given to the true Church only, 422.
Author, declaration of, 419.
Authority in religion, tendency towards, in the 17th century, 61.
Avignon, Council of, its decree in favor of the truce of God, 181.
Aymon (of Aquitaine), writes the history of the French, 241.
Barbarians, those who invaded the Roman Empire described, 122;
their real condition, 444;
their laws and manners, 447.
Barcelona, councillors of, their bold language to the king of Spain, 340;
its trades-associations described by Capmany, 477.
Bayle, dictionary of, described, 63; its effects, 63.
Bellarmine, doctrine of, on the divine law, 291;
on the civil power, 292;
on the distinction between political and ecclesiastical power, 293;
vindication of, 294.
Benedict (St.), described, 238;
his monastic institute, 238.
Beneficence, public, unknown to the ancients, 184;
was the work of Christianity, 184;
it required permanent institutions, 184;
they were conceived and founded by the Church, 185;
institutions of, founded by Catholicity, 185;
they require the support of Christian charity, 189.
Bernard (St.), observations on, 409.
Beza, evidence of, against Protestantism, 423.
Bible, why forbidden in the vulgar tongue in Spain, 215.
Bible Societies, effects of, 64.
Billuart, F., on the right of making laws, 296;
on the origin of society and the civil power, 296.
Bishops, slaves of, set free at their death by decree of Council, 108.
Bonald, on the Esprit des Lois, 186;
his doctrines, 283.
Boneuil, Council of, described, 106.
Bossuet, his negotiations with Leibnitz to re-unite the Churches, 61;
school of, 283;
his Universal History the first great work on the philosophy of
history, 418.
Brentzen, testimony of, to the incredulity prevailing among the early
reformers, 429.
Brescia, Arnauld of, troubles excited by, 251.
Bruis (Pierre de), his iconoclastic fanaticism, 251.
Buchanan, his remark on the degradation of women wherever Christianity
does not prevail, 136.
Bull-fights, those of Spain discussed, 174.
Busenbaum, on the power of making laws, 295.
Bull (Cœna Domini) containing an excommunication against those who
levy excessive taxes, 360.
Cæsar (J.), on the manners of the Germans and Britons, 153.
Calmet, on St. Paul to the Romans, 461.
Calvin, intolerance of, 421;
his vulgar abuse, 421;
evidence of, in favor of the Pope, 423.
Calvinism, as connected with democracy, 355.
Capmany on the trades-corporations of Barcelona, 477.
Carranza, trial of, 212;
its duration, 212;
carried to Rome, 212;
his dying declaration, 212;
conduct of Philip II. towards him, 213;
causes of his trial, 213;
nature of his writings, 214;
his reason why the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue were forbidden in
Spain, 215.
Cassian, his account of the origin of religious institutions, 223.
Cathari, the, described, 251.
Catholicity, its doctrines always the same, 65;
its past services to society, and what may be expected from it for
the future, 73;
its progress in several countries of Europe, 74;
not opposed to the true spirit of liberty, 80;
its effects on European civilization, 80;
was strong in the west and weak in the east, 81;
importance of the unity produced by it for the safety of Europe amid
perils, 81;
degraded condition of society when it appeared, 90;
not opposed to the feeling of individuality, but promotes it, 131;
the elevation of woman due to it alo ne, 135, 155;
places women on an equality with men, 135;
mistake of its opponents, 149;
its institutions falsely assailed by Protestants and philosophers, 147;
its exertion in favor of beneficence impeded by Protestantism, which
compelled it to stand on its defence, 188;
unfairly treated with regard to tolerance, 190;
its doctrine with respect to errors of the mind, 200;
was the work of God, 256;
its fertility in resources, 257;
its charity, 257;
its true doctrines with regard to the civil power, 323;
its relations with the people, 353;
its relations with liberty, 357;
its effects on the development of the intellect, 392;
effects of its principle of submission to authority, 393;
effects of the same on the sciences, 393;
ancient and modern philosophy compared with it, 395;
its morality, 397;
its revealed dogmas, 397;
is not opposed to true philosophy, 397;
compared with Protestantism with respect to learning, universities,
&c., 412;
its unity and concert, 423;
its services against slavery.--(See _Slavery_.)
Celchite, Council of, 109.
Celibacy, influence of that of the clergy in preventing an hereditary
succession, according to Guizot, 351;
what would have happened without it, 352.
Censors, among the ancients, they took the place of religious
authority, 161.
Chalons, Council of, 108.
Chalons-sur-Saone, Council of, excommunicates those who fight within
the precincts of churches, 176.
Chanoinesses, enjoined by the Council of Aix to keep an hospital for
poor women, 188.
Charity, its effects on toleration, 192.
Charles V., why released from his oath by the Pope, 210.
Chateaubriand, writings of, described, 71;
describes Zachary as selling himself as a slave to buy the liberty
of a husband for his wife and children, 104;
extract from, on the effects of Catholicity and Protestantism, 415.
Chivalry, its relations with women, 150;
did not elevate them, but found them elevated by Christianity, 151.
Christ, all his miracles beneficent, 184;
his whole life spent in doing good, 184.
Christians, the early, their constancy in martyrdom, 224;
they seek asylums for retirement and prayer in the deserts, 224.
Christianity, effects of, on society, 67;
effects produced by its appearance, 88;
opposes slavery, 102;
could not endure the savage heroism of the Romans, 104;
development of the moral life by means of, 134;
was unknown to the ancients, 134;
the effects which would have followed from the loss of its influence
on Europe, 134;
ideas of some modern philosophers with regard to it, 156;
how it is embodied in Catholicity, 156;
its progress in the early ages described, 230;
its effects on the invading barbarians, 235.
Church, the Catholic, services of, to society, in combating the
fatalist doctrines of the Reformation, 68;
her opposition to slavery, 102;
she protects the freedom of newly emancipated slaves, 103;
consecrates manumission by having it performed in the churches, 103;
protects slaves recommended to her by will, 103;
allows her sacred vessels to be sold to redeem slaves, 104;
gives letters of recommendation to emancipated slaves, 105;
causes tending to promote slavery with which she had to contend, 105;
she makes a law enabling those who had been compelled to sell
themselves as slaves to recover their liberty by paying back the
price, 106;
she allows her ministers to give their liberty to slaves belonging
to her, while she forbids other property to be alienated, 108;
summary of her measures for the abolition of slavery,
114--(see _Councils_);
its abolition due to her alone, 114;
reforms marriage, 136;
preserves its sanctity, 137;
great evils thereby prevented, 137;
her unity in doctrines and fixity in conduct not inconsistent with
progress, 145;
her struggles with the corrupted Romans and savage barbarians, 176;
decrees of her Councils against animosities, 176;
her persevering efforts, 177;
treats kings and great men as severely as the lowly, 177;
her boldness in checking the crimes of kings, 178;
her interference in civil affairs of old justified by the
circumstances of the times, 182;
her Councils protect the weak--viz. clergy, monks, women, merchants
and pilgrims--against the strong, 182;
her exertions in favor of the vanquished in war, 183;
she preserves unity of faith, and founds institutions for doing
good, 185;
what she would have done for the cure of pauperism if the
Reformation had not plunged Europe into revolutions and
reactions, 188;
encourages the aristocracy of talent, 361;
service which she did to the human mind by opposing the spirit of
subtlety of the innovators, 407;
her interference in the management of hospitals, 449.
Churches, the Protestant, only the instruments of the civil power, 186.
Cicero, on the necessity of religion to the State, 316.
Civilization, that of Europe during the 16th century not owing to
Protestantism, 82;
characteristics of that of modern Europe described, 115;
compared with ancient and modern non-Christian civilization, 116;
its superiority owing to Catholicity, 117;
may be reduced to three elements--the individual, the family, and
society, 117;
its universal progress impeded, and unity broken, by
Protestantism, 260.
Clement, St. (Pope), passage from, on Christians selling themselves as
slaves to redeem their brethren, 104.
Clergy, the effects on society of their power and influence, 175;
fatal effects of the diminution of their political influence in the
16th century, 370;
advantages which might have resulted from it to popular
institutions, 373;
their relations with all the powers and classes of society, 373.
Clermont, Council of, its decree in favor of the truce of God, 181.
Coblentz, Council of, 106.
Concina (P.), on the origin of power, 295;
how it exists in governments, 296.
Conduct, firmness of, its powerful effects in the world, 145.
Conscience, the public, described, 157;
that of Europe contrasted with that of ancient times, 159;
how influenced by the Church, 160;
both illustrated by the story of Scipio, 165;
the former was formed by Catholicity alone, 166.
Conscience, the individual, described, 158.
Constance, Council of, its doctrine on the murder of kings, 336.
Cornelius a Lapide, on St. Paul to the Romans, 460.
Cortes, severe measures of that of Toledo against the Jews, 205;
decline of, in Spain, 331.
Cottereaux, excesses of, 252.
Councils of the Church, their influence on political laws and
customs, 360;
canons of, which improve the condition of slaves, 430;
check all attempts against the liberty of the enfranchised slaves
of the Church, or who had been recommended to her by will, 431;
undertake that the Church will defend the liberty and property of
the freed who have been recommended to her, 431;
make the redemption of captives the first care of the Church, and
give their interests precedence over her own, 432;
excommunicate those who attempt to reduce men into slavery, 433;
declare those who make Christians slaves to be guilty of homicide, 434;
ordain that those who have sold themselves as slaves shall recover
their liberty by repaying the price, 434;
protect the slaves belonging to Jews, 434;
provide means for their becoming free, 434;
forbid Jews to acquire new Christian slaves, 435;
ordain that if a master gives meat to a slave on a fasting day, the
latter becomes free, 435;
forbid Jews to hold Christian slaves at all, 435;
forbid Christian slaves to be sold to Jews or pagans, 435;
or to be sold out of the kingdom of Clovis, 436;
severely condemn clerics who sell their slaves to Jews, 436;
command bishops to respect the liberty of those freed by their
predecessors, 436;
they mention the power given to bishops to free deserving slaves,
and fix the sum which they may give them to live on, 436;
exempt them from the general
rule, that alienations made by bishops who leave nothing of their
own must be restored, 436;
ordain that when a bishop dies, all his slaves shall be set at
liberty, and that at the funeral each bishop or abbot may set three
slaves free, giving them three solidi each, 436;
free all the English slaves in Ireland, 437;
forbid slaves of the Church to be exchanged for others, 437;
grant liberty to slaves who wish to embrace the monastic life, with
proper precautions to prevent abuses, 437;
check the abuse of ordaining slaves without the consent of their
masters, 437;
allow parish priests to select some clerics from the slaves of the
Church, 438;
allow slaves to be ordained, having been first freed, 438.
Crusades vindicated, 242.
Cyprian (St.), on the redemption of captives, 432.
De Maistre on the word "catholic," 422;
on general Councils, 480;
compares the conduct of the Popes with that of other rulers, 484.
Democrats, difference between ancient and modern, 130.
Democracy, its alliance with kings against the aristocracy, 303;
notion formed of, in the 16th century, 350;
two kinds of, 364;
their progress in the history of Europe, 365;
their characters, 366;
their causes and effects, 366;
historical facts with regard to, in France, England, Sweden,
Denmark, and Germany, 367.
Descartes, his demonstration of the existence of God anticipated by
St. Anselm, 486.
Divorce, consequences of the facility of, in Germany, according to
M. de Staël, 139.
Divines, spirit of the writings of the old Catholic, compared with
that of modern writers, 288.
Doctrines, their effects on society, 311;
those prevalent in the 16th century with regard to democracy, 350;
those prevalent in political matters in Europe before the appearance
of Protestantism compared with those of the school of the 18th
century and those of modern publicists, 374.
Dominicans, their exertions in favor of the native Americans, as
stated by Robertson, 441.
East, the, injury caused there by breaking unity in religion, 235.
Elvira, Council of, its decree in favor of slaves, 100.
England, policy of, towards Spain, 76.
Eon, his fanatical delusion, 251.
Epaone, Council of, 100.
Erigena, account of, 400.
Errors, those of the mind not always innocent, 200.
Error described, 70.
Europe, characteristics of her civilization, 116;
condition of, in the 13th century, 245 et seq.;
singular contrasts therein, 246;
struggle between barbarism and Christianity there, 247;
instances of great and good principles sometimes abused in
practice, 247;
barbarism therein improved by religion, and religion disfigured by
barbarism, 248;
effects of the crusades, 249;
increasing power of the commonalty, 249;
decline of the feudal system, 249;
power of great ideas, 250;
critical epochs, 250;
great agitation prevailing, and horrible doctrines spread, among the
people at that time, 250--(see _Tanchème_, _Eon_, _Cathari_,
_Vaudois_, _Albigenses_);
what she would have done for civilization if she had not been
impeded by Protestantism, 261;
her condition when it appeared, 261;
great increase of power and development of mind, 262;
divisions occasioned by it, 262;
the nations thereof require religious institutions for organizing
beneficence and education on a large scale, 277;
state of, at the end of the 15th century, 344;
social movement at that time, 344;
its causes, 344;
its effects and object, 345;
development of the industrial classes there, 354;
this took place under the influence of Catholicity alone, 385;
picture of, from the 11th century to the 14th, 382;
religion and the human mind there, 404;
intellectual condition of the nations of modern, distinguished from
that of those of antiquity, 405;
causes which have accelerated it among the former, 406.
Eximeno, letter of, on the sciences, 425.
Facts, consummated, how they are to be treated, 333.
Faith, unity of, not adverse to political liberty, 388.
Forms, political, their value, 357.
Francis I. (of France), his opinion on the necessity of expelling the
Moors from Spain, 210.
Francis, St. (de Sales), his list of titles given to the Popes, 423.
Franks, their custom of going armed to church forbidden by Councils, 176.
Free-will, its denial discarded by Protestants themselves, 68;
its effects, 68;
its noble results, 134;
supported by Catholicity against the Reformation, 135.
Gambling, passion of, described, 142.
Games, public, those of the Romans prohibited by the Christian
Church, 175.
Gerbet (l'Abbé), his excellent refutation of Lammenais' doctrines, 338.
Germans, manners of the ancient, described by Tacitus, 152; why
embellished by him, 153;
are but little known to us, 154;
their struggles with the Romans, 154.
Gibbon, testimony of, to the merits of Bossuet's History of the
Variations, 421.
Gilles (St.), Council of, its decree in favor of the truce of God, 179.
Gironne, Council of, in favor of the truce of God, 180.
Glaber (Monk), of Cluny, his history of France, 241.
Gotti (Cardinal), doctrines of, on the origin of power, 295.
Gouget (l'Abbé), on Catholic Hebrew studies, 413.
Government, three principles of--monarchy, aristocracy, and
democracy, 344.
Governments, revolutionary ones are cruel in self-defence, not being
based on right, 128;
right of resistance to _de facto_ ones, 330;
falsehood of the theory which imposes the obligation of obeying them
merely as such 331;
difficulties on this point explained, 332.
Grace, effects of the Catholic doctrine of, 234.
Gratian, merit of his literary labors, 241.
Gregory (Pope), passage from, 108;
frees two slaves of the Roman Church, 436;
his reason why Christians liberated their slaves, 436.
Gregory III. (Pope), on selling slaves to the pagans for sacrifice, 435.
Gregory IX. (Pope), his decretals on slavery, 109;
against the hereditary succession of the clergy, 352.
Gregory XVI. (Pope), his apostolic letters against the slave trade, 438.
Grotius, his servile doctrine on the civil power, 323;
his evidence in favor of Catholicity, 424.
Gruet, his incredulity and execution, 429.
Guibert, historical labors of, 241.
Guizot, on the effects of the Church upon slavery, 113;
his doctrine of the personal independence of individuals among the
barbarians stated and discussed, 119;
true theory thereon, 121;
incoherence of his own doctrines, 124;
cause of his error, 125;
his acknowledgment with regard to the reformation and liberty, 343;
extract from, shewing that the clergy were not a caste, 351;
an opinion of, refuted, 399;
extract from, shewing the immense superiority of the Church to the
barbarians in legislation, 447;
documents shewing his error with respect to Abelard, 486.
Hacket, fanaticism of, 427.
Harlem, Mathias, mad fanaticism of, 426.
Heresy, held a sin by the Catholic Church, 200.
Heretics, characteristics of those of the early ages, 425.
Herman, preaches the murder of all priests and magistrates, 426.
Hermandad, charter of, between the kingdoms of Leon and Castile, for
the preservation of their liberties, 475.
History, difficulties in its study, 248;
necessity of taking into account times and circumstances of events
therein, 248.
Hobbes, his false theory of society, 304;
his servile doctrine, 323.
Honor, principle of, in monarchies, according to Montesquieu, 161.
Horace, on the origin of society, 462.
Hospitals, destroyed by Henry VIII. in England, 185;
Catholic bishops the protectors and inspectors of, 187;
laws made respecting them by the Church, 187;
attached to monasteries and colleges in the middle ages, 449;
superintended by the bishops, 449;
their property protected by being considered as belonging to the
Church, 449.
Hugh of St. Victor, historical labors of, 241.
Humility, its effects with regard to toleration, 193.
Ideas, irreligious ones cannot be confined to theory, but enter on the
field of practice, 70;
destroy themselves, 71;
power of, 169;
they are divided into those that flatter the passions, and those
that check them, 170;
they require an institution to preserve and enforce them, 170;
how they became corrupted among mankind before Christianity, 170;
how effected by the press, 171;
their natural progress, 171;
their rapid succession in modern times, 171.
Impiety allies itself with liberty or despotism to suit its
purpose, 388.
Incredulity in Europe the fruit of Protestantism, 60;
spirit of, has lost much of its strength, 70.
Independence, personal, feeling of, existed among the Greeks and
Romans, 124.
Indifference, religious, in Europe, the fruit of Protestantism, 60.
Individual, the, how absorbed by the state among the ancients, 127;
fatal effects of the complete annihilation of the feelings of
respect for, in society, 129;
witnessed among nations not Christians, 129.
Individuals, how the freedom of, was fettered among the ancient
republics, 130;
every thing ruled by the state, 130.
Inquisition, the, misrepresentations with regard to that of Spain, 203;
its duration may be divided into three periods, 205;
appeals from it to Rome, 207;
indulgence of the latter, 203;
interference of the Popes to soften the rigours of, 203;
mildness of that of Rome, 203;
no case of capital sentence pronounced by it, 203;
rigours of that of Spain in the time of Philip II. caused by the
Protestants themselves, 214;
compels a preacher to retract who, in the presence of Philip II.,
had maintained that kings have absolute power over their
subjects, 218;
became milder with the spirit of the age, 218;
remarks thereon, 452;
appellants to Rome from, forbidden to return to Spain under pain of
death by pragmatic sanction of Ferdinand and Isabella, 454;
how affected by the policy of the Spanish kings, 455;
the latter earnestly endeavoured to have the judgment in Spain made
final, without appeal, which the Popes refused, 455;
affected impartiality of writers with regard to it, 455.
See _Perez_, _Puigblanch_, _Villanueva_, _Llorente_, and _Jomtob_.
Institutions, religious, opposed by Protestantism and philosophers, 219;
their importance and connexion with religion herself, 221;
have survived the attempts made to destroy them, 221;
their nature described, 222;
their object, 222;
are perfectly conformable to the spirit of the Christian religion, 223;
their commencement, according to Cassian, 223;
have always existed in the Church from the time of Constantine, 223;
conduct of the Popes towards them, 224;
their accordance with the Gospel precepts, 225;
their effects on the human mind, 226;
their services and necessity, 227;
their necessity for the salvation of society, 275;
not inconsistent with the improvements of modern times, 280;
historical view of them, 458;
_coup d'œil_ at their origin and development, 458-9.
Institutions, free, injured by Protestantism, 363.
Institutions, their study, 248;
necessity of understanding the times when they existed, 248.
Intellect, the, its development, how affected by Catholicity, 392;
influence thereof upon, historically examined, 393;
its relations with religion, 404;
its development among the nations of Europe different from that of
those of antiquity, 405;
causes that have hastened its development in Europe, 405;
origin of the spirit of subtlety, 406;
service rendered to it by the Church in opposing the subtleties of
the innovators, 403;
its progress from the eleventh century to our times, 412;
different phases, 412.
Intolerance, that of some irreligious men, 194;
of the Romans, 196;
of the pagan emperors, 196;
has continued from the establishment of Christianity by the state,
in various forms, down to the present time, 196;
recent instances of it, 196;
case of France examined, 197;
doctrine which condemns all intolerance with regard to doctrines
and actions discussed and refuted, 198;
consequences which would flow from it, 198;
would produce impunity for crimes, 198;
civil and religious, distinguished, 450;
mistaken by Rousseau, 450;
its existence in ancient and modern times held by some
Protestants, 451.
Irreligion, spirit of, has lost much of its strength, 70.
Isabella, part taken by, in the establishment of the Inquisition in
Spain, 205.
Jansenists, the, described, 62.
Jerome, (St.), on the name Catholic not being given to heretics, 422.
Jesuits, importance of, in the history of civilization, 268;
their eminent services, 269;
error and contradiction of M. Guizot in their regard, 270;
false charges against, 271.
Jews, the slaves of, protected by decrees of Councils, 107;
struggle between truth and error among, 170;
how the truth was preserved, 170;
their avarice, 206;
popular hatred against, 206;
atrocities charged against them by the people, 207;
pragmatic sanction of Ferdinand and Isabella with regard to, 454;
law of Philip II. against, 455.
John de Ste. Marie, extracts from, on Christian politics, 463.
Jomtob, Nathaniel, his work called _The Inquisition Unveiled_, 456;
his prejudice and vulgar abuse, 456.
Judaizers pursued by the Inquisition, 209.
Justin, on martyrdom, 132;
his _Apology_, 286.
Justinian gives bishops the control of hospitals, 450.
Kings, inviolability of, 337;
greatest increase of the power of, in Europe, dates from the
appearance of Protestantism, 363.
Knowledge, state of, when Christianity appeared, 85;
sterility of, in creating social institutions, 85.
Laborers, protected by the Council of Rheims, 182.
Lacordaire (l'Abbé) on the Spanish Inquisition, 210.
Lamennais (l'Abbé), his attempt to ally Catholicity with extreme
democracy, 131;
his doctrines on government compared with those of St. Thomas, 338.
Las Casas, exertions of, in favor of the native Americans related by
Robertson, 442.
Lateran, general Council of, confirms the truce of God, 181;
eleventh general Council of, forbids the maltreatment of monks,
clergy, pilgrims, merchants, peasants, and the shipwrecked, 182.
Law, the divine, false interpretation of, 284;
St. John Chrysostom on, 285;
according to Bellarmine, 291.--See _St. Thomas_, _Suarez_, _Gotti_,
_Busenbaum_, _Liguori_, _Billuart_, _and the Compendium
Salmaticense_.
Law.--See _St. Thomas_.
League, the Hanseatic, described, 354.
Legislation, that of Rome described, 86;
was probably influenced by Christianity, 86.
Leibnitz, his negotiations with Bossuet to re-unite the Churches, 61;
his theological system contains the chief dogmas of Catholicity, 424.
Lepers, ordered to be maintained at the expense of the Church, 187.
Lerida, Council of, excludes those at variance from the body and blood
of Christ, 176;
decrees seven years' penance against infanticide, 184.
Leyden, John of, his excesses at Munster, 426.
Liberty, a word ill understood, 79;
examples of, 79;
how limited, 79;
Catholicity favorable to its true spirit, 80;
true nature of, 228;
according to Catholic doctors, 311;
political freedom owes nothing to Protestantism, 352;
Catholicity favorable to it, 352;
why it has fallen into bad repute with some, 362;
considered in relation to religious intolerance, 382;
cannot subsist without morality, 389;
remarkable passage from Augustin on the subject, 390.
Lillebonne, Council of, enforces the truce of God, 180.
Llandaff, Council of, 177.
Llorente, his History of the Inquisition, 457;
his attempt to introduce schism and heresy into Spain, 457;
his misrepresentation, 457;
burns a portion of the documents belonging to the Inquisition of
Madrid, 457.
London, Council of, 106.
Louis of Bavaria, the doctrine that the imperial power comes
immediately from God maintained by the princes of the empire in his
time, 462.
Love, passion of, its effects, 143;
how treated by Catholicity and Protestantism, 144;
advantages of the course pursued by the former, 145.
Luther, his opinion on polygamy, 138;
effects which his doctrines would have had, had they been proclaimed
sooner, 138;
his intolerance towards the Jews, 209;
specimens of his violence, grossness, and intolerance, 421;
his evidence against Catholicity, 423;
his interview with the Devil, 425;
infidel passages from his writings, 428.
Lyons, Council of, 105;
Council of, see _Lepers_;
poor men of, described, 251.
Mâcon, Councils of, 104.
Manichees, unusual severities exercised towards, 204;
description of, 252.
Manners, gentleness of, one of the characteristics of European
civilization, 172;
wherein it consists, 172;
exists in advanced societies, 172;
not found in young nations, 172;
did not exist among the Greeks and Romans, 173;
causes of this, 173;
their excessive corruption among the ancients, 445.
Mariana, his popular doctrines, 312;
on the liberties of Spain, 481.
Marquez, P., on the disputes between rulers and their subjects, 482;
on the levying of taxes, and the right of rulers over the property
of their subjects, 483.
Marriage, doctrines of Catholicity and Protestantism with regard to,
compared, 136;
importance of guarding the sanctity of, 139;
not admitted as a sacrament by Protestantism, 139;
different conduct of Catholicity and Protestantism with regard to, 140.
Martyrs, heroism of the Christian, 132.
Matha, John of, one of the founders of the Order of the most holy
Trinity for the Redemption of Captives, 259.
Mathematics, obscurity of their first principles, 425.
Melancthon, his complaints against the other Reformers, 421;
superstitions of, 426.
Merchants protected by Councils, 182.
Merida, Council of, 100.
Missions, their unity broken by Protestantism, 260;
injury thereby done to them, 263;
what they might have effected had it not appeared, 263;
what united efforts effected in earlier times, 264;
need of, on a large scale, for the conversion of the heathen, 265;
zeal displayed by the Church in the promotion of, in latter times, 266;
powerful means for promoting at the command of Rome before unity was
broken, 266.
Monarchy, why hereditary is preferable, 143;
idea formed of, in the sixteenth century, 346;
application thereof, 347;
in what it differed from despotism, 347;
what it was in the sixteenth century, 347;
its relations with the Church, 348;
when necessary in Europe, 356;
different character of, in Europe and Asia, 357;
passage from De Maistre on, 358;
institutions for limiting it, 358;
it acquired strength in the sixteenth century, 361;
prevailed over free institutions, 362;
causes of this, 370.
Monasteries, those in the east established in imitation of the
solitaries, 235;
causes of their decline, 235;
services they might have rendered to literature, 236;
what they did for knowledge, 236;
those of the west established, 238;
their effects, 238;
property rendered sacred, 239;
their property, 239;
their claims thereto, 239;
their improvements, 240;
encouragement given to the country life, 240;
their services to Germany, France, Spain, and England, 240;
great men they produced, 240;
their services to science and letters, 240;
their civilizing effects, 242;
new forms assumed by them in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 242;
their objects, 243;
benefits they conferred on mankind, 243.
Monks, protected by Councils, 180.
Monogamy not owing to climate, 138.
Montaigne on the Reformation, 61;
his infidel sentiments changed at his death, 429.
Montanus, Arias, employed by Philip II. to collect books and MSS., 218.
Montesquieu on the principle of honor in monarchies, 162;
that of virtue in republics, 161;
he is bound by his theory, 165;
on the destruction of monasteries and hospitals in England by
Henry VIII., 185;
his doctrine with regard to the latter, 186.
Montpellier, Council of, its decrees to secure peace, 181.
Moors, the, dread of their power in Spain, 205;
papal bull in favor of, 209;
law of Philip III., expelling them, 454.
Napoleon and the Spanish nation, 331.
Narbonne, Council of, its decree in favor of
the truce of God, 179.
Nationality, importance of, 76.
Nicholas, a fanatic who taught that it was good to continue in sin
that grace might the more abound, 427.
Nuns, protected by the Council of Rouen, 181.
Obedience, motives of, founded on the will of God, 97.
Olive trees, why protected by the Council of Narbonne, 180.
Opinions, the rapid succession of, in modern times, 171.
Opinion, public, influence of, on morals, 163.
Orange, Council of, its decree in favor of slaves, 103.
Orders, the religious-military described, 242;
the mendicant ditto, 252;
the necessity for the latter, 253;
their popular nature, 254;
their influence, 254;
were the work of God, 254;
their relations with the Pontiffs, 256;
those for the redemption of captives, 257;
visions inspiring them, 259;
their founders, 259.
Orleans, Council of, its decree in favor of slaves, 100, 103, 107;
forbids any one to be armed at church, 176;
protects hospitals, 187;
the poor and prisoners, 187.
Oxford, Council of, its decree against robbers, 182.
Pacts, 298.
Paganism described by St. Augustin, 89.
Palafox, on the duties of kings, princes, and magistrates, 321;
on taxes and tyranny, 483.
Palentia, Council of, protects the defenceless, 182.
Papin, evidence of, in favor of Catholicity, 424.
Paris, trades-union of, 354.
Passions, the, differently treated by Catholicity and by
Protestantism, 140;
why so active in times of public disturbance, 143.
Patrick, (St.), Council of, 105.
Paul, (St.), his Epistle to the Romans, 459.
Peasants.--See _Lateran_.
Penance, efficacy of the sacrament of, 167.
Perez, on the condemnation of a preacher for absolutist doctrines by
the Inquisition of Spain, 455.
Peter, (St.), of Arbues, his murder by the Jews not a proof of the
unpopularity of the Inquisition, 207;
tumult occasioned thereby, 207.
Peter, (St.), Nolasco, founds the Order of Mercy for the Redemption of
Captives, 259.
Philanthropy, inadequate for works of beneficence without Christian
Charity, 189.
Philosophers, the irreligions of the last century preferred pagan to
Christian institutions, 161.
Philosophy, schools of, can destroy but not create, 171.
Philip II. of Spain did not institute the Inquisition, but continued
it, 210;
why so much attacked by Protestants, 210;
probability that the attempts made to introduce Protestantism into
Spain in his time would succeed, owing to the circumstances of the
times, 211;
his conduct to Carranza, 213;
his services to Catholicity, 215;
general feeling in his reign with regard to cruel punishments very
different from the present, 217;
his patronage of literature, 218;
his letter to Arias Montanus, 456.
--See _Inquisition_.
Pilgrims protected by Councils, 181.
Pitt, anecdote of, 76.
Pius II. (Pope), his apostolic letters against slavery, 439.
Pius VII. (Pope), interposes to abolish the slave trade, 441.
Plato, immoral doctrines of, 422.
Polygamy, not the effect of climate, 138.
Poor, the, regulations of Councils in favor of, 187.
Popes, the, services they rendered to society by preserving the
sanctity of marriage, 137;
support the truce of God, 181;
their attempts to mitigate the rigour of the Spanish Inquisition, 208;
appoint judges of appeal, 208;
their intolerance compared with the tolerance of Protestantism, 208;
their temporal powers, 340;
doctrines of theologians with regard to them in case they should
fall into heresy, 342;
nature, origin, and effects of their temporal power, 386;
list of titles given to, in ancient times, 423.
Power, origin of, 284;
the paternal, considered with regard to the civil, 286;
the latter, according to Bellarmine, resides _immediately_ in the
people, 292;
divine origin of, 298;
violence of, when illegitimate, 303;
_mediate_ and _immediate_ transmission of, 305;
this distinction important in some respects and unimportant in
others, 306;
why Catholic divines have so zealously supported the _mediate_, 308;
faculties of the civil, 317;
calumnies of the opponents of the Church on this point, 317;
resistance to the civil, 324;
comparison between Catholicity and Protestantism on this point, 327;
vain timidity of some minds on this point, 324;
obedience to the civil, taught by Catholicity when legitimate, 325;
civil distinguished from spiritual, 326;
conduct of Catholicity and Protestantism with respect to the
separation of the two, 326;
the independence of the spiritual, a guarantee for the liberty of
the people, 326;
doctrines of St. Thomas on obedience to the civil, 328;
doctrines of St. Thomas, Bellarmine, Suarez, &c. on resistance to
the civil, in extreme cases, 338.
Preaching, that of Protestantism without authority, 167.
--See _Protestantism_.
Prebendaries, bound to give a tenth of their fruits to an hospital, 188.
Press, the effects of, on opinions, 171.
Prisoners, exertions of the Church in favor of, 187.
Protestantism, present condition of, 64;
attempts to preserve itself by violating its fundamental principle, 64;
causes of its continuance, 64;
has almost entirely disappeared as a fixed creed, but remains as a
body of sects, 65;
its positive doctrines repugnant to the instinct of civilization, 68;
its essential principle one of destruction, 69;
can boast only of its ruins, 69;
was the work of human passions, and not of God, 69;
effects which even its partial introduction into Spain would
produce, 74, 76, 78;
advantages of the practice of preaching preserved by, 90, 166;
its preaching is without authority, 167;
its doctrine with respect to errors of the mind, 199;
effects which its introduction into Spain would have produced, 216;
would have broken the unity of the Spanish monarchy, 216;
is opposed to vows and celibacy, 219;
its appearance, 262;
its effects in breaking the unity of European civilization, 262;
divided the missionaries among themselves, 263;
disastrous effects of, 267;
exalts the temporal power at the expense of the spiritual, 308;
its relations with liberty, 343;
real state of the case on this point, 344;
its origin aristocratic, 355;
not favorable to the poor, 355;
has contributed to destroy free institutions, 363;
fearful state of Europe after it appeared, 369;
political doctrines prevailing in Europe before its appearance
compared with those of modern publicists and the school of the
eighteenth century, 374;
has prevented the homogeneity of European civilization, 375;
historical proofs, 376;
compared with Catholicity with regard to learning, criticism, the
learned languages, the foundation of universities, the progress of
literature and the arts, mysticism, high philosophy, metaphysics,
morals, religious philosophy, and the philosophy of history, 412;
evidences against, from Luther, Melancthon, Calvin, Beza, Grotius,
Papin, Puffendorf, and Leibnitz, 423;
its superstition and fanaticism, 425;
bad faith of its founders, 428;
passages proving this, 428;
progress of infidelity soon after its appearance proved from Luther,
Brentzen, Gruet, and Montaigne, 428.
Puffendorf, his false theory of society, 304;
evidence of, against Protestantism, 423.
Puigblanch.--See _Jomtob_.
Punishments, right of inflicting capital, derived from God, 300;
cannot come from pacts, 300;
mildness of, among barbarian nations not a proof of civilization but
of indifference to crime, 447;
immense superiority of the legislation of the Church with respect
to, according to M. Guizot, 447.
Regulus, virtue bordering on ferocity, 104.
Religion, always existed in some shape among the greater part of
mankind, 66;
power of, in Spain, 76;
condition of, when Christianity appeared, 84;
atrocities committed in the name of, by Catholics and Protestants, 204;
importance of, to the civil power, 311;
corruption of, among the ancients, 445.
Revolutions, those of modern times, 389;
difference between that of the United States of America and that of
France, 389.
Rheims, Councils of, 104;
commands that the clergy, monks, women, travellers, laborers, and
vine-dressers shall be respected during war, 182;
protects the poor, 187.
Robertson.--See _Dominicans_ and _Las Casas_.
Romans, the, their savage heroism not tolerated by the mild spirit of
Christianity, 104;
futile attempts made to imitate them, 128;
their manners effeminate without being gentle, 173.
Rome, legislation of, 86;
how affected by Christianity, 86;
vice of her political organization, 87;
Council of, its decrees in favor of slaves, 109;
the court of, endeavors to mitigate the severity of the Spanish
Inquisition, 208;
mildness of the Inquisition at Rome compared with that in other
places, 208;
no instance of a capital sentence having been pronounced thereby, 208;
the decline and fall of the empire of, 229.
Roscelin described, 400;
compared with St. Anselm, 407.
Rouen, Council of, its decree in favor of the truce of God, 181.
Rousseau, doctrines of, 282;
his appeal to the passions, 288;
his _Contrat Social_, 299;
his misrepresentation of Catholicity, 450;
doctrines of his _Contrat Social_, 451;
his intolerance, 451.
Saavedra, his popular doctrines, 313.
Salamanca, Compendium of, on the transmission of power by the people's
consent, 295.
Sciences, the natural and social compared, 85.
Scipio, story of, 165.
Self-defence, right of, alleged as a plea for the intolerance of
governments, 202.
Seneca, on the worship of the gods, 316.
Sigebert, historical labors of, 241.
Slaves, their large numbers among the ancients, 91;
their numbers at Athens, Sparta, Rome, and in the eastern
countries, 91;
opinions of Plato and Aristotle regarding them, 91;
their treatment, 91;
dangers from their numbers, 91;
their rebellions, 92;
their immediate emancipation impracticable, 93;
the Church did all that could be done in their favor, 94;
difficulties she had to contend with in their emancipation, 94;
conduct, designs, and tendencies of the Church favorable to them, 94;
their natural inferiority to freemen proclaimed by the heathen
philosophers, 95;
their natural equality with them inculcated by the Scriptures and
the Church, 97;
motives for their obedience, 97; their ill-treatment, 98;
spirit of hatred and revolts thereby caused, 98;
St. Paul's instructions to them, 98;
power of life and death possessed over them by their masters, and
cruelties exercised, 99;
scene from Tacitus, 99;
St. Paul intercedes for one of them, 100;
ill-treatment of them forbidden by Councils of the Church, 100;
she substitutes public trial for private vengeance in their
regard, 101;
the clergy forbidden to mutilate them, 101;
she condemns to penance those who put them to death of their own
authority, 101;
she protects those newly emancipated, 103;
those of the Church not allowed to be sold or exchanged, 109;
those who embrace the monastic state are freed by decree of the
Council of Rome, 109;
abuse thereof, 109;
were raised to the priesthood, but not until they had been freed, 110;
prevalence of the abuse of ordaining slaves without the consent of
their masters, 110;
the Church protects their marriages, and forbids them to be
dissolved by their masters, 113.--See _Councils_.
Slavery, the offspring of sin, 112.
Society, will always be either religious or superstitious, 67;
modern, described, 72;
its progress, 82;
condition of, when Christianity appeared, 84;
present state of, 274;
administration alone not adequate to its wants 276;
principle of charity required, 276;
physical means of restraining the masses of, 278;
moral means required, 280;
origin of, according to St. Thomas, 289;
not the work of man, 291;
not to be saved by strict political doctrines, without religion and
morality, 314;
why modern conservative schools are powerless in preserving it, 315;
struggle therein between the three elements, monarchy, aristocracy,
and democracy, 369.
Solitaries, the early, described, 231;
numbers of, 231;
influence of, in spiritualising ideas and improving morals, 232;
overcome the difficulties of the luxurious and enervating climate, 234;
great men who received their inspirations from them, 234.
Spain, effects which the partial introduction of Protestantism would
have produced there, 74, 76, 77;
power of religious ideas there, 76;
peculiar manner in which revolutionary ideas have come into
operation there, 77;
has not yet obtained the government which she requires, 78;
effects of the loss of her national unity, 78;
her intolerance in religious matters not so great as it has been
represented, 218;
bold language used there with regard to politics, 312;
industrial progress therein, 354;
Catholicity and politics there, 377;
real state of the question, 377;
causes of the ruin of her free institutions, 378;
ancient and modern freedom, 378;
_Communeros_ of Castile, 379;
policy of her rulers, 380;
Ferdinand, Ximenes, Charles V., and Philip II., 381.
Stephen, (Abbot), his account of the excesses committed by the
Manichees in France, 252.
Suarez, on the origin of power, 294;
his reply to King James I. of England, 294;
on the disputes between subjects and their rulers, 473.
Subtlety, spirit of, in the middle ages, its causes, 406.
Tacitus, scene from, of cruelty to slaves, 99;
on the ancient Germans with regard to women, 152;
his description of their manners, why embellished, 152.
Tact, value of, 171.
Tanchème, excesses of, 250.
Telugis, Council of, ordains the truce of God, 180.
Tertullian, apology of, 286.
Theodosius, the emperor, excluded from the Church by St. Ambrose, for
the slaughter at Thessalonica, 178.
Theories, rapid succession of, in modern times, 171.
Theresa, St., extracts from the visions of, 427.
Thierry, M., his history of the Conquest of England by the Normans, 120.
Thomas, St., of Aquin, extract from, on the origin of society, 289;
on the Divine law, 290;
his definition of law, 319;
his doctrines with regard to laws and royal power, 319;
on obedience to laws, 328;
utility of his dictatorship in the schools in the middle ages to the
human mind, 411;
passages from, on the duties of rulers and subjects, 470;
his doctrines on the forms of government, 480.
Times, superiority of the primitive, has been exaggerated, 422.
Toledo, Councils of, 103, 107, 108, 111.
Toleration, how misunderstood and misrepresented, 190;
prejudices against Catholicity with regard to, 190;
principle of, considered, 191;
in religious men is the produce of two principles, charity and
humility, 191;
illustrations, shewing how they are affected by intercourse with the
world on this point, 192;
that of some irreligious men, 194;
considered in society and governments, 194;
its existence in society not owing to the philosophers, 195;
its causes, 195; principle of universal, discussed, 196.
Tours, Council of, ordains that the poor shall be supported in their
own town or parish, 187.
Trades-corporations, origin and salutary effects of, 477.
Trades-union.--See _Paris_.
Trajan, the emperor, 6000 gladiators slain at his games, 174.
Transubstantiation, discussion with regard to, in consequence of the
philosophy of Descartes, 397.
Trent, Council of, gives bishops the power of visiting hospitals, 449.
Troja, Councils of, promote the truce of God, 180.
Truce of God described, 179;
established by Church Councils, 179;
supported by Popes, 180.
Truth, described, 69.
Tubuza, Council of, establishes the truce of God, 179.
Unbelievers, doctrines of, with regard to errors of the mind, 200.
Universities, those founded by Catholicity, 414.
Vaison, Council of, decree of, in favor of foundlings and against
infanticide, 184.
Valois, Felix of, one of the founders of the Order of the Most Holy
Trinity for the Redemption of Captives, 259.
Vaudois, described, 252.
Verneul, Council of, 105.
Villanueva, prejudice and egotism of, 457.
Vine-dressers, protected by the Council of Rheims, 182.
Virginity, respected by the ancients, &c., but not by Protestantism, 146;
how important that it should be respected, 146;
not injurious to the state, 147;
its effects on the female character, 149.
Visions, (see _Orders_);
effects of, 259;
those of Catholics, 427.
Vives, Louis, on human knowledge, 424.
Voltaire described, 63;
extract from, on the importance of the morals of courts to
society, 137.
Vows, vindication of religious, 228;
those of chastity in the early ages of the Church, 458.
Widows, their vows of chastity in the early ages of the Church, 458.
Witmar, a German monk, his chronicles much esteemed 241;
used by Leibnitz, 241.
Women, degraded condition of, among the ancients, 136, 441;
their elevation due entirely to Catholicity, 136, 156;
how affected by chivalry, 150;
their elevation falsely ascribed to the ancient Germans, 151;
protected by Councils, 182.
Worms, Council of, excommunicates those who refuse to be reconciled, 177.
Zeballos, P., on Christian politics and Naboth's vineyard, 467.
Ziegler, a Lutheran, an ardent defender of the immediate communication
of temporal power, 463.
Zonarus, on charitable establishments, 187.
Zuinglius, his phantom, 426.
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
Hyphenation and accents have been standardised.
Apart from the items mentioned below all other spellings and
punctuation are as in the original.
Develop and develope, idealog(y/ist) and ideolog(y/ist) are used
interchangeably in the book. They have been standardised to the
standard modern spelling of develop and ideology.
Variations in the use/spelling of derivatives of the Latin propius
(pages 473a, 474a and 490a), while possibly incorrect, have been left
as published as they seem unlikely to be typographical errors.
Zuinglius/Zwinglius. The former spelling is used in the body of the
book and the latter in the notes. This has not been changed.
A note on notes: upper case references [A] refer to conventional
footnotes, lower case references [a] refer to the endnotes in the
appendix, numeric references [1] refer to the main endnotes.
The reference to note 1 in the original reads "(See note at the end of
the vol.)" the [1] has been added to improve clarity and uniformity.
The quotation on page 313: 'What absolute monarch in Europe would
approve of one of his high functionaries expressing the origin of power
after the manner of our immortal Saavedra? "It is from the centre
of justice," says he, "that the circumference of the crown has been
drawn. The latter would not be necessary, if we could dispense with the
former.' is missing a closing quote. as it may be absent from 'drawn.'
or 'former.' it has not been corrected.
Entries for NOTES, APPENDIX and INDEX have been added to the table of
contents.
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