It is strange that the monarchical zeal of Protestants and incredulous philosophers imputes to the Catholic religion as a crime, that she has allowed it to be maintained within her bosom, that, in certain cases, the subject may be released from his oath of allegiance; whilst other philosophers of the same school reproach it with having sanctioned despotism by its detestable doctrine of non-resistance, as Dr. Beatty expresses it. The direct, indirect, and declaratory powers of the Popes have served as an admirable bugbear to intimidate kings; the dangerous principles of theological works formed an excellent pretext for raising the cry of alarm, for representing Catholicity as a nest of seditious maxims. The hour of revolutions was struck,—circumstances were changed,—fresh necessities arose, and men adapted their language to the times. The Catholics, a short time before seditious and regicidal, were then declared abettors of despotism, fulsome adulators of civil power. Recently, the Jesuits, leagued with the infernal policy of Rome, were everywhere undermining thrones, to establish on their ruins the universal monarchy of the Pope; but the secret of this horrid plot was discovered, and fortunately so, for the world was otherwise about to experience a frightful catastrophe. But now that the Jesuits are expelled, and are expiating their crimes in exile, the French Revolution, the prelude to so many others, breaks out, and the aspect of affairs changes immediately. Protestants and unbelievers, the supporters of ancient discipline, the zealous adversaries of the abuses of the Court of Rome, fully comprehending the new situation of affairs, hasten to conform to it. From that moment, the Jesuits, the Catholics, the Pope, are no longer seditious or tyrannicides, but Machiavellian supporters of tyranny, enemies of the liberty of the people; and just as a league had been supposed to exist between the Jesuits and the Pope for the foundation of a universal theocracy, there is now discovered, thanks to the investigations of these eminent philosophers and strict, incorruptible Christians, an infamous pact between the Pope and kings to oppress, enslave, and degrade the unfortunate human race.
The answer to this enigma may be thus briefly expressed. So long as kings maintain their power and the peaceable possession of their thrones, so long as Providence restrains the tempest, and the monarch, raising his proud head towards heaven, commands the people with a lofty air, the Catholic Church does not flatter him. "Thou art dust," she says to him, "and into dust thou shalt return; power was given thee not unto destruction, but unto edification; thy faculties are great, but not boundless. God is thy judge, as well as that of the lowest of thy subjects." The Church is then accused of insolence; and if any theologian should venture to investigate the origin of civil power, to point out, with generous freedom, the duties to which this power is subject; to write, in a word, with prudence upon public right, but without servility, the Catholics are then declared seditious. But the tempest bursts, thrones are overturned, revolution prevails, spills the blood of the people in torrents, cuts off royal heads, and all in the name of liberty. The Church says: "This is no liberty, but a succession of crimes; the fraternity and equality which I have taught, were never your orgies and guillotines." The Church then becomes a vile flatterer; her words, her actions, have indubitably revealed that the Sovereign Pontiff is the surest anchor of despotism; it has been proved that the Court of Rome has been polluted by an infamous pact.[33]
[CHAPTER LVII.]
POLITICAL SOCIETY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
We have already seen what has been the conduct of the Christian religion with respect to society; that is to say, that not caring whether such or such political forms were established in a country, she has ever addressed herself to man, seeking to enlighten his understanding and to purify his heart, fully confident that when these objects were attained, society would naturally pursue a safe course. This is sufficient to obliterate the reproach imputed to her of being an enemy to the liberty of the people.
Protestantism has certainly never revealed to the world a single dogma which exalts the dignity of man, nor created fresh motives of consideration and respect, or closer bonds of fraternity. The Reformation cannot, therefore, boast of having given the least impetus to the progress of modern nations; it cannot, consequently, lay the least claim to the gratitude of the people in this respect. But as it frequently happens that people lay aside main points and set a great value on appearances; and as Protestantism has been supposed to accord much better than Catholicity with those institutions in which it is usual to find guarantees for a high degree of liberty; we must draw a parallel. Besides, we cannot omit it without betraying an ignorance of the genius of this age, and authorizing the suspicion that Catholicity cannot derive any advantage from such a comparison. In the first place, I will observe, that those who look upon Protestantism as inseparable from public liberty do not in this respect agree with M. Guizot, who cannot certainly be accused of any want of sympathy for the Reformation. "In Germany," says this celebrated publicist, "far from demanding political liberty, it has accepted, I should not like to say political servitude, but the absence of liberty." (Hist. Gén. de la Civil. en Eur. leç. 12.)
I quote M. Guizot, because in Spain we are so accustomed to translations, because we Spaniards have been led to suppose, that the best thing for us is to believe foreigners on their bare word; because amongst us, in questions of importance, it is necessary to have recourse to foreign authorities; and hence, a writer who appears to slight such authorities, exposes himself to the risk of being treated as an ignoramus, as one behind the age. Besides, with a certain class of writers, the authority of M. Guizot is decisive. In fact, a multitude of publications have appeared amongst us bearing the title of "Philosophy of History," whose authors, it is quite clear, have used the works of that French writer as their text-books. Is this assertion, that Protestantism is the natural bulwark of liberty, true or false, accurate or inaccurate? What do history and philosophy teach us on this point? Has Protestantism advanced the popular cause, by contributing to the establishment and development of liberal forms of government? To place the question in its true light, and discuss it thoroughly, we must take a view of the state of Europe at the close of the fifteenth century, and at the beginning of the sixteenth. It is incontestable that individuals and society were then making rapid progress towards perfection. We have sufficient evidence of this fact in the wonderful march of intellect at this period, in the numerous measures of improvement effected at that epoch, and in the better organization everywhere introduced. This organization is doubtless still imperfect; but it is nevertheless such as cannot be likened to that of former times. If we carefully examine into the state of society at that epoch, as represented either in the writings or in the events of the time, we shall observe a certain restlessness, anxiety, and fermentation, which, while they indicated the existence of vast wants not yet satisfied, were evidence also of a tolerably distinct knowledge of those wants. Far from discovering in the men of that period a contempt or forgetfulness of their rights and dignity, or any discouragement and pusillanimity at the sight of obstacles, we find them abounding in foresight and ingenuity, swayed by lofty and sublime thoughts, fired with noble sentiments, and animated with intrepid and ardent courage. The progress of European society at that epoch was very rapid; three very remarkable circumstances contributed to render it so: 1. The introduction of the whole body of men to the rank of citizens, as a necessary consequence of the abolition of slavery and the decline of feudality; 2. The very nature of civilization, in which every thing advances together and abreast; 3. In fine, the existence of a means for increasing its development and rapidity—this means was the art of printing. To make use of a physico-mathematical expression, we may say, that the amount of motion must have been very considerable, since it was the product of the mass by the rapidity, and that the mass, as well as the rapidity, were then very considerable.
This powerful movement, which proceeds from good, is in itself good, and is productive of good, is, however, accompanied by inconveniences and perils; it raises flattering hopes, but it also inspires apprehensions and fears. The people of Europe are an ancient people, but they may be said to have become young again; their inclinations, their wants, urge them to great enterprises; and they enter upon them with the ardor of an impetuous and inexperienced young man, feeling in his breast a great heart, and in his head the lively spark of genius. In this situation, a great problem presents itself for solution, viz., to find the most proper means for directing society without impeding its progress; and for conducting it by a way free from precipices to the objects of its aim, intelligence, morality, felicity. A slight glance at this problem startles us at its immense extent; so numerous are the objects it embraces, the relations it bears, the obstacles and difficulties with which it is beset. Considering this question attentively, and comparing it with man's weakness, the mind is ready to lose courage and despond. The problem, however, exists, not as a scientific speculation, but as a real and urgent necessity. In such a case, society is like individuals; it attempts, essays, and makes efforts to get clear of the difficulty as well as possible.
Man's civil state improves daily; but to maintain this improvement, and to perfect it, requires a means: and this is the problem of political forms. What ought these forms to be? And, above all, what elements can we make use of? What is the respective force of these elements? What are their tendencies, their relations, their affinities? How shall they be combined? Monarchy, Aristocracy, Democracy—these three powers present themselves at the same time to dispute for the direction and government of society. They are certainly not equal, either in force, means of action, or in practical intelligence; but they all command our respect, they have all pretensions to a preponderance more or less decisive, and none of them are without the probability of obtaining it. This simultaneous concurrence of pretensions, this rivalship of three powers so different in their nature and aim, forms one of the leading features of this epoch. It is, as it were, in a great measure the key to the principal events; and, in spite of the various aspects presented by this feature, it may be signalized as a general fact among all the civilized portion of the nations of Europe.
Before proceeding further in our examination of this subject, the mere indication of such a fact suggests the reflection, that it must be very incorrect to say that Catholicity has tendencies opposed to the true liberty of the people; for we see that European civilization, which, during so many ages, was under the influence and guardianship of this religion, did not then present one single principle of government exclusively predominating. Survey the whole of Europe at this period, and you will not find one country in which the same fact did not exist. In Spain, France, England, Germany, under the names of Cortes, States-General, Parliaments, or Diets; the same thing everywhere, with the simple modifications which necessarily result from circumstances adapted to each people. What is very remarkable in this case is, that if there be a single exception, it is in favor of liberty; and, strange to say, it exists precisely in Italy, where the influence of the Popes is immediately felt. The names of the Republics of Genoa, Pisa, Sienna, Florence, Venice, are familiar to all. It is well known that Italy is the country in which popular forms at that period gained most ground, and in which they were put in practice, whilst in other countries they had already abandoned the field. I do not mean to say that the Italian Republics were a model worthy of being imitated by the other nations of Europe. I am well aware that these forms of government were attended with grave inconveniences; but since so much is said of spirit and tendencies, since the Catholic Church is reproached with her affinity to despotism, and the Popes with a taste for oppression, it is well to adduce those facts which may serve to throw some doubt upon certain authoritative assertions, adduced as so many philosophico-historical dogmas. If Italy preserved her independence in spite of the efforts of the Emperors of Germany to wrest it from her, she owed it in a great part to the firmness and energy of the Popes.