The lot of Protestantism in France has been hard. It has had against it the king and the people, the literati of the seventeenth, the philosophers of the eighteenth century; at one time it appeared as if extirpated by Catholicism, at another as absorbed by philosophy. It has yielded neither to persecution nor ridicule. It still exists, and is no sooner restored to liberty than it exhibits all its ancient fervour.
As for Philosophy, she has sustained many checks amidst her triumphs. It is easy to set forth her follies and mistakes. She has much to amend in what is past, but nothing to fear for the future. Most of the principles which she proclaimed have become rights. The rights have become facts. The new social condition to which philosophy has given rise will not be more averse to her than the old one which she has overcome.
These are all clearly powers full of life, and which a long futurity awaits. They have struggled roughly but in vain. They have been unable to destroy each other.
They will neither change or perish. No doubt they will modify themselves according to their new position. They will listen to reason. They will bow to necessity, but without renouncing their principles or sacrificing their nature. They can make no such concession. What characteristics and vitality they have must remain. To renounce this would be to die.
Thus, without metamorphosis and as God and time have made them, are these powers called to dwell side by side under the same social roof.
What will happen if they do not live in peace, sincere peace?
Shall we again see the old wars which our fathers have seen?
War between Catholicism and Protestantism? Between religious creeds and philosophy? Between the Church and the new-modelled State? Shall we see a revival of every fanaticism, lay and clerical, philosophic and religious?
It is not likely. Here and there, indeed, in books, in newspapers, even in the gravest publications, hints are given of such a restoration of things: attacks by Catholics on Protestant impiety, by Protestants against popish idolatry, by devotees against reason and its lights, by philosophers against faith and the clergy. A war of words, often sincere, frequently cold, always powerless. Doubtless, the old leaven of hatred and war, deep laid in every human heart, still exists, but it will no more arouse society. Customs as well as laws will prevent this. Even the inclination will soon fail those most anxious for it. The voices which still preach this strife, passionate, radical, and mortal, either of Christian communities between themselves, or of Philosophy against Christianity, are the voices of dying men, already deserted on the battle-field where they persist in staying. This is rather what will happen.