Does political liberty in this point of view originate in Protestant ideas? Is it under any obligation to them? Has it, in fine, any reproach against Catholicity? I open the works of Catholic writers anterior to Protestantism, in order to ascertain their sentiments on this subject, and I find that they take a clear view of the problem to be solved. I examine rigidly whether they teach anything opposed to the progress of the world, to the dignity or the rights of man; I examine, again, whether they bear any affinity to despotism or to tyranny, and I find them full of sympathy for the progress of enlightenment and of mankind, inflamed with noble and generous sentiments, and zealous for the happiness of the multitude. I remark, indeed, that their hearts swell with indignation at the mere names of tyranny and despotism. I open the records of history; I study the opinions and customs of the nations, and the predominating institutions; I behold on all sides nothing but fueros, privileges, liberty, cortes, states-general, municipalities, and juries. All this appears in the greatest confusion, but I see it; and I am not astonished to discover an absence of order, for it is a new world just arisen from chaos. I ask myself if the monarch possesses in himself the faculty of making laws; and upon this question I very naturally find variety, uncertainty, and confusion; but I observe that the assemblies representing the different classes of the nation take part in the enactment of the laws. I ask whether they have any interference in the great affairs of the state; and I find it stated in the codes that they are to be consulted on all grave and important affairs: I see monarchs frequently observing this precept. I ask whether these assemblies possess any guarantees for their existence and their influence; and the codes inform me by the most decisive texts, and a thousand facts are at hand to convince me, that these institutions were deeply rooted in the customs and manners of the people.
Now what was then the predominating religion? Catholicity. Were the people much attached to religion? So much so that the spirit of religion predominated over all. Did the clergy possess great influence? Very great. What was the power of the Popes? It was immense. Where do you find the clergy attempting to extend the power of kings to the prejudice of the people? Where are the pontifical decrees against such or such forms? Where are the measures and plans of the Popes for the restriction of one single legitimate right? No reply. Then I say indignantly, Europe, under the influence of Catholicity, arose from chaos to order, civilization advanced at a firm and steady pace, the grand problem of political forms engaged the attention of men of wisdom, questions of morality and laws were receiving a solution favorable to liberty, and yet the influence of the clergy was never greater even in temporal matters, and the power of the Popes was in every sense quite colossal.
What! one word from the Sovereign Pontiff would have smitten unto death every form of popular government; and yet such forms were receiving a rapid development. Where, then, is the tendency of the Catholic religion to enslave the people? Where the infamous alliance between kings and Popes to oppress and harass the people, to establish on the throne a ferocious despotism, and to rejoice under its gloomy shades over the misfortune and tears of mankind? When the Popes had a quarrel with any kingdom, was it usually with the king or the people? When it was necessary to oppose a firm front against tyranny and oppression, who stood forward more promptly or more firmly than the Sovereign Pontiff? Does not Voltaire himself admit that the Popes restrained princes, protected the people, put an end to the quarrels of the time by a wise intervention, reminded both kings and people of their duties, and hurled anathemas against those enormities which they could not prevent? (Quoted by M. de Maistre, Du Pape.)
It is very remarkable that the Bull In Cœna Domini, which created so much alarm, contains in its fifth article an excommunication against "those who should levy new taxes upon their estates, or should increase those already existing beyond the bounds marked out by right." The spirit of deliberation, so common even at this period, and which formed so singular a contrast with the tendency to violent measures, arose in a great measure from the example given by the Catholic Church during so many centuries. In fact, it is impossible to point out a society in which more assemblies have been held, combining in them every thing distinguished by science and virtue. General, national, provincial Councils and diocesan synods are to be met with in every page of the Church's history. Such an example, exposed during centuries to the view of the people, could not fail to influence and affect customs and laws. In Spain the greatest part of the Councils of Toledo were also national congresses; whilst the episcopal authority performed its functions in them, watching over the purity of dogmas, and providing for the wants of discipline, the great affairs of the state were also discussed in them in harmony with the secular power. In them were enacted those laws which are still an object of admiration to modern observers. The utopias of Rousseau are now fallen into complete disrepute among the best publicists. Representative governments are no longer to be defended as a means of bringing the general will into action, but as an instrument, through the medium of which reason and good sense may be consulted, which would otherwise remain dispersed throughout the nation. Legislative assemblies are now represented to us, in works upon constitutional law, as the foci in which all knowledge serving to throw light on the difficulties of public affairs may be concentrated; they are held up to us as the representatives of all legitimate interests, as the organ of all reasonable opinions, the voice of all just complaints, a channel of perpetual communication between governors and their subjects, a measure of justice in the laws, a means of rendering the laws respectable and venerable in the eyes of the people; in short, as a permanent guarantee that a government, never consulting its own interests, should study only public utility and expediency. At a time when we are informed in such fine terms what these assemblies ought to be, not what they are, it will not be uninteresting to refer to the Councils; for we see at a glance that the Councils must in a certain manner explain the nature and spirit, and point out the motives and aim, of political assemblies.
I am aware of the fundamental differences existing between these two assemblies; men who receive their powers from popular election cannot, in fact, be placed in the same rank as those who have been appointed by the Holy Ghost to govern the Church of God; neither can the monarch, who derives his right to the throne from the fundamental laws of the nation, be confounded with that rock upon which the Church of Christ is built. I grant also that, whether with regard to the subjects discussed in the Councils, or with regard to the persons engaged in these discussions, and to the extension of the Church over the whole earth, there must necessarily be a great dissimilarity between the Councils and political assemblies, with respect to the epoch of their being assembled, and the mode of their organization and of their proceedings. But we are not here about to imagine an ingenious parallel, and to seek with subtilty resemblances which do not exist; my only aim is to show the influence which the lessons of prudence and maturity given for so long a time by the Church must have exercised upon political laws and customs. If we consult the annals of the nations of antiquity, or those of modern times, we shall discover that all deliberative assemblies are composed of persons who have a right to sit in them by a regulation stated in the laws. But to admit into them a man of knowledge, simply because he is so, is to pay a noble tribute to merit—to proclaim in the most solemn manner, that the care of ruling the world belongs properly to intelligence. This the Church alone has done.
I make this observation to prove that society is indebted mainly to the Church for the progress it has made in this respect. I will adduce on this point a fact that has not perhaps been sufficiently attended to, but which clearly shows that the Catholic Church was the first to seek out men of talent wherever they were to be found, and unhesitatingly to allow them influence in public affairs. I will not speak of that spirit which forms one of her distinctive characteristics among all other societies, which has ever led her to seek merit, and nothing but merit, and to raise it to the highest functions—a spirit which no one can deny her, and which has eminently contributed to her splendor and preponderance. But it is very remarkable that the influence of this spirit has been felt where, at first sight, it might have been least expected. In fact, it is well known that, according to the doctrines of the Church, no private individual has any right to interfere in the decisions and deliberations of the Councils; hence, however learned a theologian or jurist may be, his knowledge gives him no right whatever to take part in those august assemblies. Nevertheless, it is well known that the Church has ever taken care to call to them men who, whatever might be their titles, excelled most by their talents or their learning. Who does not read with pleasure the list of learned men who, although not Bishops, were present at the Council of Trent?
In modern society, do not talent, wisdom, and genius carry the highest head, command the greatest consideration and respect, and present the best claims to the direction of public affairs, and to the exercise of a preponderating influence? These should know that nowhere have their claims been respected or their dignity acknowledged so well as in the Church. What society, in fact, has ever sought, as the Church has, to elevate them, to consult them in the most important affairs, and to afford them an opportunity of shining in grand assemblies? In the Church, birth and riches are of no importance. If you are a man of high merit, untarnished by misconduct, and at the same time conspicuous by your abilities and your knowledge, that is enough—she will look upon you as a great man, will always show you extreme consideration, treat you with respect, and listen to you with deference. And since your brow, though sprung from obscurity, is radiant with fame, it will be held worthy to bear the mitre, the Cardinal's hat, or the tiara. To speak in the language of the day, I may remark, that the aristocracy of knowledge owes much of its importance to the ideas and discipline of the Church.[36]
[CHAPTER LXII.]
THE DEVELOPMENT OF MONARCHY IN EUROPE.
A single glance at the state of Europe in the fifteenth century enables us to discover that such a state of things could not long exist, and that of the three elements claiming preference, the monarchical must necessarily prevail. And it could not be otherwise; for we have always seen that societies, after a long period of trouble and agitation, place themselves at last under the protection of that power which offers them the greatest security and well-being. Beholding, on the one hand, those great feudatories, so proud, so exacting, so turbulent, enemies to each other, and rivals of the king as well as of the people; on the other hand, the commons, whose existence appears under so many different forms—whose rights, privileges, fueros and liberties present so various and complex an aspect—whose ideas have no constant and well defined direction;—we conclude at once, that neither were possessed of sufficient force to struggle against the royal power, already acting by a fixed plan and a determinate system, seizing every opportunity which might serve to forward its views. Who is not aware of the sagacity displayed by Ferdinand the Catholic in developing and implanting his prominent idea—that of centralizing power, giving it vigor, and rendering its action forcible and universal; that is, the idea of founding a true monarchy? And why not acknowledge in the immortal Ximenes a worthy and more eminent continuator of this policy? It would be erroneous to consider this as an evil to nations. All publicists agree that it was necessary to give strength and stability to power, and prevent its action from becoming weak or intermittent; but the only representative of real power at that time was the throne. Hence, to fortify and aggrandize royal power was of real necessity; all plans and efforts of man would have failed to place an obstacle in its way. But it remains, nevertheless, to be seen, whether this aggrandizement of royal power outstepped its due bounds; and this is the place for contrasting Protestantism with Catholicity, that we may ascertain which of them was culpable, if either, and to what extent. This is a very important and curious subject, but at the same time one of difficulty and delicacy. In fact, such a change has taken place of late in the meaning of words, the aversion which parties profess for each other is so profound, each one repels with such impetuosity every thing which bears the most remote resemblance to what is esteemed by his adversaries, that it is an arduous undertaking to render the state of the question and the meaning of words comprehensible. I ask one thing of my readers of all opinions; that is, that they will suspend their judgment until they have read the whole of what I have to adduce on this point. If they consent to this, and do not quarrel with the first word that shocks them—in a word, if they have sufficient patience to hear before they judge, I am confident that, if we do not altogether agree, which is impossible amid such a variety of opinions, they will at least grant that I have taken an apparently reasonable view of the subject, and that my conjectures are not altogether unfounded.