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."4
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.