Now, if we observe a similar phenomenon in Spain, and particularly in Aragon, where the Pontifical influence was great; if the same thing is observable in the north of Europe, inhabited by people whom Catholicity alone has civilized; if, in fine, the same phenomenon is realized, with greater or less rapidity, in all countries exclusively subject to the belief and authority of the Church, we may conclude that Catholicity contains nothing opposed to the movement of civilization, and that it is not opposed to a just and legitimate development of the popular element.
I cannot think how it is possible for any one who has read history to accord to Protestantism the honor of being favorable to the interests of the multitude. Its origin was essentially aristocratic; and in those countries in which it has succeeded in taking root, it has established aristocracy upon such firm foundations, that the revolutions of three centuries have not been able to overturn it. Witness, for a proof of this, what has taken place in Germany, England, and all the north of Europe. It has been said that Calvinism is more favorable to the democratical element; and that if it had prevailed in France it would have established a system of federative republic in place of monarchy. Whatever may be the value of this conjecture upon a change which would certainly not have been very beneficial to the future prospects of that nation, it is perfectly certain that no other system than that of aristocracy would have been found practicable in France; for circumstances at that period would admit of nothing else; and the aristocrats who were at the head of religious innovation, would admit of no other organization. Had Protestantism triumphed in France, it is probable that the poor of that country, in imitation of their brethren in Germany, would have claimed a share in the rich booty; but they certainly would not have found Calvin's proverbial harshness more advantageous to them than the furious rashness of Luther was to the Germans. It is probable that these wretched villagers, who, according to contemporary writers, had nothing to eat but rye-bread, with no animal food, and slept upon a bundle of straw, with a board for their pillow, would not have felt themselves more comfortable than their brethren in Germany, had they thought proper to participate in the effects of the new doctrines. In this case, they would not have been punished, but exterminated, like their brethren beyond the Rhine. In England, the sudden disappearance of the monasteries produced pauperism. Their property having fallen into the hands of laymen, the religious being driven from their abodes, the poor who subsisted upon the alms of these holy establishments were left without the means of subsistence. And observe, that the evil was not temporary; it has continued to our own days, and is now one of the greatest evils afflicting Great Britain. I am aware that almsgiving is said to encourage indolence; but it is very certain that England, with her poor-laws and her legal charity, contains a far greater number of destitute poor than Catholic countries. It will be difficult to convince me, that to let people die of hunger is a good means of developing the popular element. Protestantism must have contained something very repulsive to the democrats of that period, since we find it rejected in Spain and Italy, the two countries in which the people enjoyed the greatest share of prosperity and rights. And this becomes still more worthy of attention, when we remark that religious innovation took root wherever the feudal aristocracy predominated. Look, it will be said, at the United Provinces; but this example only proves that Protestantism, determined to find supporters, willingly took part with the mal-contents. If Philip II. had been a zealous Protestant, the United Provinces would probably have alleged that they were unwilling to remain any longer subject to an heretical prince. These provinces were for a long time under the exclusive influence of Catholicity, and yet they were prosperous; the popular element was developed in their bosom, without meeting any obstacle on the part of religion. Exactly at the beginning of the sixteenth century they made the discovery, that they could no longer prosper without abjuring the faith of their ancestors. Observe the geographical position of the United Provinces; see them surrounded by reformists offering to assist them; and you will find in political considerations the reason which you may seek in vain in imaginary affinity between the Protestant system and the interests of the people.[35]
[CHAPTER LXI.]
ON THE VALUE OF THE DIFFERENT POLITICAL FORMS—CHARACTER OF MONARCHY IN EUROPE.
The enthusiasm enkindled in Europe in latter times, has cooled down by degrees; experience has shown that a political organization not in accordance with the social organization is of no advantage to a nation, but rather overwhelms it with evil. Men also understand, and not without difficulty, simple as the matter is, that political systems should be regarded solely as a means of ameliorating the condition of the people, and that political liberty, to be at all rational, must be made a medium for the acquisition of civil liberty. Amongst enlightened men, these are ordinary ideas; fanaticism for such or such political forms, considered abstractly from their civil results, is now abandoned as a thing denoting ignorance, or as a discreditable means hypocritically made use of by the ambitious, devoid of real merit, whose only way to fortune is disturbance and revolution. It cannot, however, be denied that, considered as simple instruments, certain political forms, such as mixed, moderate, constitutional, or representative governments, or whatever they be designated, have acquired in some countries consideration and solidity; and that, in many countries, any principle which might be considered opposed to representative forms, and only favorable to absolute ones, would be repudiated beforehand. Civil liberty has become necessary to the people of Europe; and in some nations the idea of this liberty is so identified with that of political liberty, that it is difficult to explain how civil liberty can exist under an absolute monarchy. We must therefore examine what are the tendencies of the Catholic and those of the Protestant religions. I will proceed so as to discover these tendencies by an impartial analysis of historical facts. Never, perhaps, as M. Guizot felicitously observes, were the natural course of things, and the hidden ways of Providence, less understood. Wheresoever we meet not with assemblies, elections, urns, and votes, we imagine power must be absolute, and liberty unprotected. I have an express design in making use of the word tendencies, because it is clear that Catholicity has no dogma on this point—it does not pronounce upon the advantages of any particular form of government. The Roman Pontiff acknowledges equally as his son the Catholic seated upon the bench of an American Assembly, and the most humble subject of the most powerful monarch. The Catholic religion is too prudent to descend upon any such ground. Emanating from heaven itself, she diffuses herself, like the light of the sun, over all things, enlightens and strengthens all, and is never obscured or tarnished. Her object is to conduct man to heaven, by furnishing him on his passage with great assistance and consolation upon earth; she ceases not to point out to him eternal truths; she gives him in all his affairs, salutary counsels; but the moment we come to mere details, she has no obligation to impose, no duty to enjoin. She impresses upon his mind her sacred maxims of morality, admonishing him never to depart from them; like a tender mother speaking to her son, she says to him, "Provided you depart not from my instructions, do what you consider most expedient."
But is it true that there is in Catholicity at least a tendency to obstruct liberty? What has been the result of Protestantism in Europe with regard to political forms? In what has it corrected or ameliorated the work of Catholicity? In the centuries preceding the sixteenth, the organization of European society was so complicated, the development of all the intellectual faculties had arrived at such a point, the contention of interests was so lively, in fine, every nation was so enlarged by the successive agglomeration of provinces, that a central, forcible, energetic power, predominating over all individual pretensions and those of classes, was indispensable to the peace and prosperity of the people. Europe had no other hope for peace; for wherever there exists a great number of various, opposite, and all powerful elements, a regulating action is necessary to prevent violent shocks, to calm excessive ardor, to moderate the rapidity of motion, to prevent a continual war, which would necessarily lead to destruction and chaos. This immediately gave to the monarchical principle a fresh and irresistible impulse; and as this impulse was felt in every European country, even in those possessing republican institutions, it evidently resulted from causes that lay deep in the social condition of the times. At the present day there is not a publicist of any note who would question these truths. During the last half century, in fact, events have occurred well calculated to demonstrate that in Europe monarchy is something more than usurpation and tyranny. In the very countries in which democratical ideas have taken root, it has been found necessary to modify them, and in some degree to depart from them, in order to preserve the throne, which is regarded as the best safeguard of the great interests of society.
It is the infirmity of all things human, however good and salutary they may be, always to bring with them an accompaniment of inconveniences and evils. Monarchy could not evidently be exempt from this general rule; in other words, the great extension of force and power was sure to produce abuse and excess. The European nations are not of a sufficiently patient character, nor of a sufficiently moderate temperament, to endure with resignation all sorts of disorders. The European entertains so profound an idea of his dignity, that he cannot comprehend the quietism of the Oriental nations, living in the midst of degradation, bowing their slavish heads before the despot who despises and oppresses them. Hence, whilst we in Europe acknowledge and feel the necessity of a very strong power, we have always endeavored to take measures for restraining and preventing the abuse of this power. Nothing exalts so much the grandeur and dignity of the European nations as the comparison of them with those of Asia. The latter have no better means of delivering themselves from oppression than the assassination of their sovereigns. Whilst the blood of one monarch is still warm, another ascends his throne, trampling with a disdainful foot on the heads of nations as cruel as they are degraded. Not so in Europe; we have always recourse to intellectual means; we have established institutions which lastingly protect the people from oppression and excesses. We cannot deny that our efforts have cost torrents of blood, or affirm that we have always adopted the most expedient means; but on this point Europe, guided by the same spirit as in all other matters, has become anxious to substitute right in the place of mere might. This is no recent problem; it existed when European society was in its infancy, and in these latter times has been overlooked. Great efforts were made many centuries ago to resolve it. Observe how Count de Maistre states his opinions on this difficult problem:
"Although the greatest and most general interest of sovereignty consists in its being just, and although the cases in which it transgresses this condition are incomparably fewer than the others, unfortunately it does, however, frequently transgress it; and the particular character of certain sovereigns may so far augment these inconveniences, that in order to render them supportable, it is necessary to compare them with those which would exist if there were no sovereign. It was therefore impossible that men should not, from time to time, make efforts to secure themselves against the excess of this enormous prerogative; but on this point the world has adopted two widely different systems. The daring tribe of Japheth has at all times been gravitating (if we may use the expression) towards what is termed liberty; that is, towards that social condition in which the influence of the governing powers is least sensibly felt. Ever jealous of his rights and liberties, the European has sought to preserve them, sometimes by expelling his rulers, and at other times by opposing to them the barrier of law. He has tried every thing, every imaginable form of government, to set himself free from his rulers, or to restrain their power.
"The immense posterity of Shem and Cham have pursued another course. From the earliest ages down to our own time they have always said to their fellowmen, Do whatever you please, and when we are tired we will put you to death. Besides, they have never been able or willing to comprehend the nature of a republic; the balance of power, all those privileges, all those fundamental laws of which we are so proud, are totally unknown to them. Among them, the richest and most independent man, the possessor of immense movable wealth, absolutely at liberty to transport it whither he pleases, sure, moreover, of entire protection upon European ground, and threatened at home with the rope or the dagger, prefers them, nevertheless, to the misery of dying of ennui among us. But no one will ever think of recommending to Europe the public law of Asia and Africa, so short and clear; but as power in Europe is always so much feared, discussed, attacked, or transferred, since nothing so much wounds our pride as despotic government, the most general European problem is to know how sovereign power may be restrained without being destroyed." (Du Pape, liv. ii. chap. 2.)
This spirit of political liberty, this desire of limiting power by means of institutions, did not originate with the French philosophers; before their time, and long before the appearance of Protestantism, it was circulating in the veins of the European people. History has left us irrefragable testimonies of this truth. What institutions were deemed suitable for the accomplishment of this object? Certain assemblies, in which the voice of the nation's interests and opinions might be heard—assemblies formed in various ways, and meeting from time to time around the throne to make their complaints and assert their claims. As it was impossible for these assemblies to constitute the government without destroying the monarchy, it was necessary, in one way or another, to secure their influence in state affairs; and I do not see that anything better has hitherto been devised for attaining this object than the right of intervention in the enactment of laws, a right guaranteed to them by another, that may be justly termed the right arm of national representation,—the right of voting the supplies. Much has been written respecting constitutions and representative governments, but this is the essential point. Many and various modifications may be introduced, but in reality all consists in the establishment of the throne as the centre of power and of action, surrounded by assemblies that shall deliberate upon the laws and the taxes.