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