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