Meditations and Moral Sketches

by François Guizot

I do not dream of it. The re-establishment of unity in the bosom of Christianity by the re-union of all Christian churches, has been the desire and the endeavour of the greatest minds, both Catholic and Protestant. Bossuet and Leibnitz have attempted it. Even now the idea is present to many noble spirits, and pious bishops have so expressed it to me, with a confidence by which I feel profoundly honoured. I respect the sympathetic wish, but I do not believe that it can be realised. Between temporal order and human interests, fusion, difficult as it may be, is always possible; for interests may be made to agree through the force and in the name of necessity. In spiritual order and between religious beliefs, no such agreement is possible, for necessity can never become truth. Faith does not admit of fusion; she insists on unity.

But where the unity of the church does not exist, when the fusion of different churches is impossible, and when religious liberty is established, there is room for practical good sense and Christian charity. Good sense tells Christians that they are all in front of the same enemy, much more dangerous to them than they can be to each other; for should he triumph, the blow will fall on each. Amongst the upper classes, the war against religion manifests itself only under the forms of reserved scepticism or rationalism; timid, often serious and polite, rather seeking to screen than display itself. But at the bottom of society, and amidst the masses, it is passionate impiety which is at work, and for the sake of victory becomes subservient to the most gross and furious interests. The Christian faith, in its essential and vital character, that is, faith and submission to supernatural Christian order, is alone capable of sustaining the contest. Let Christians, whether Catholic or Protestant, be convinced of it, the loss of credit and authority on either side would redound to the advantage not of Protestantism or Catholicism, but of impiety. It is then for all Christians, whatever their differences in their Christian sphere, an obvious interest and imperative duty to accept and maintain each other as natural allies against anti-christian impiety. It will require all their strength, all their united efforts, to triumph finally in this warfare, and save at once Christianity and society.

What interest dictates to Christians, Christian charity commands. I use without hesitation plain words to express the ideas and sentiments which I feel, and even amidst the coldness of heart which is one of the most melancholy evils of my day, I feel no embarrassment in speaking to Christians of Christian charity.

When religious struggles are the ruling passion and great practical business of an epoch,—when different creeds are arrayed, wielding temporal as well as spiritual arms, with the mutual hope of subjecting if not of extirpating,—I feel that Christian charity is difficult to exercise. The temptations are too strong, the interests too pressing to be surmounted. The Chancellor De L'Hopital and the President De Thou, though recommending peace to Catholics and Protestants, would hardly have dreamt, on the eve or the morrow of a massacre or a battle, of speaking to them of charity.

But when material strife has ceased, when religious liberty is established in manners as well as in the laws, when in fact and truth the different religious creeds are obliged to live peaceably one with another, why should not the desire arise of adorning and furthering peace by the exercise of charity? When the coarser passions are powerless, why should not the more mild and equitable feelings develope themselves? I know the force of traditions, of recollections, as well as the permanent differences which tend to support controversy, even when purely speculative. Nevertheless, prolonged peace and freedom have much influence in calming the soul. At this day we have before us a signal instance, and I do not hesitate to repeat that to which I gave utterance in the Bible Society:—"See what is passing in England; there, doubtless, the irritation of the Protestants is great, there is a general and passionate movement in favour of a popular and powerful faith. The government itself associates with and follows this movement. English Protestantism shows itself strongly inclined to seek security and satisfaction at the expense of the religious liberty of the Catholics. Well! although matters wear this appearance, nothing is really done; they dare not; they cannot; and in the bottom of their hearts they desire not to do so. Amidst this Protestant excitement, the religious liberty of English Catholics still remains and extends. They have liberty of worship; their churches are open, nay, increasing in number; their priests perform their duties without interruption: they possess the liberty of the press; they publicly defend their creed and their conduct, and have freedom of speech and power of voting in parliament, where they strenuously uphold their cause." A noble sight, which, after having justly filled the friends of religious liberty with uneasiness, ought now to give them every satisfaction. The spirit of persecution had reappeared, that of justice and liberty met it face to face, and in spite of appearances remained master of the field. May Christians, Catholic and Protestant, at last acknowledge it; it will be hereafter more natural than they imagine, to live in the exercise of Christian charity, for they have lost the habit, almost the power of efficacious oppression.

A few words more, and I have done. Under a well grounded and well understood system of religious freedom, not only can different religious sects live peacefully and harmoniously together, but can contribute, by their pacific co-existence, to their mutual religious prosperity. What has been for Catholicism in France one of the most glorious and pious periods? Surely, the seventeenth century. French Catholicism then flourished in the presence of Protestantism, which was still tolerated, and Jansenism, then in full vigour. What has prevented the Anglican church from falling into that apathy which has appeared more than once ready to overcome her? What but the neighbourhood of opposing and half free sects, who have always kept her in play, and forced her to overcome her langour? There is no establishment, no power, that is not benefited by a sense of control, and by the necessity of making an effort to maintain its position. It is good to overcome, not to exterminate an enemy; and in spiritual as in temporal orders, the reign of liberty bestows on all their just rewards. While it preserves their rights to the weak, it incessantly regenerates the victorious.

Doubtless, Catholicism leans on the principle of authority; but without detaching itself from this base, it can admit, and in the course of its career has often admitted, very different degrees of liberty. From the eleventh to the fourteenth century, while the Catholic church was for civil society a great school of authority, she was in her own bosom a great theatre of freedom. For in her councils, her congregations, her correspondence with the faithful, discussion between her chiefs was ever open and animated. It is not for me to ask whether our times advise or warrant a return to such methods of government; and I am rather disposed to hesitate than undertake the task. But one great fact strikes me; one which deserves, if I mistake not, the entire attention of the Catholic clergy: it is that the disposition of the mind and heart of the faithful who are under their charge is not always the same, and neither the same measure nor the same quality of religious nutriment is requisite at all times, if I may so speak, for Christian souls. After the fall of the Roman empire, when the mission of the Catholic clergy was to convert the barbarians, and to cause a little moral light to penetrate amongst the rude conquerors, and the miserable population who lived under their yoke, it was above all by the firm and striking exercise of religious authority that the priests were enabled to attain their end. They found amongst the Christian population, high and low, many passions to repress, and but few intellectual wants to satisfy. There was greater need to strike and to govern the imagination than to nourish and direct mental activity. Time and individuals are now different. Minds are now active, varied, curious, eager. The spiritual life of faithful Christians, of the most faithful as well as the most wavering, is infinitely more animated than it was formerly. Souls so disposed require a moral rule proportionably animated; one which, while it guides, may give to their innate activity a greater share of satisfaction. I am expressing a profound conviction,—one, I will venture to say, free from any reservation or ill-will,—when I say that henceforth the Catholic church, without any sacrifice of authority, will be obliged, for the government of the soul, to admit of more intellectual and spontaneous movement on the part of the faithful than was required in other times. Yet I am convinced that when once the Catholic church shall herself have acknowledged this new moral state of Christian society, she will also know how to provide for it.

In a recent publication, [Footnote 1] a justly eminent stranger, M. Donoso Cortes, speaking of me in terms which I cannot allow myself to repeat, said, "The great mistake into which M. Guizot has fallen, in his 'History of European Civilization,' is the having attempted the impossible task of explaining visible things by visible things, natural things by natural things; which is as superfluous as to explain a fact by itself, a thing by the thing itself; because all visible and natural things, considered as visible and natural, are one and the same thing."