Thus tolerance, in a person who is religious, supposes a certain degree of gentleness of mind, the fruit of intercourse with men, and the habits thereby engendered; yet this quality is consistent with the deepest conviction, and the purest and most ardent zeal for the propagation of the truth. In the moral, as in the physical world, friction polishes, use wears away, and nothing can remain for a long time in an attitude of violence. A man will be indignant, once, twice, a hundred times, when he hears his manner of thinking attacked; but it is impossible for him to remain so always; he will, in the end, become accustomed to opposition; he will, by habit, bear it calmly. However sacred may be his articles of belief, he will content himself with defending and putting them forward at convenient opportunities; in all other cases, he will keep them in the bottom of his soul, as a treasure which he is desirous to preserve from any thing that may injure them. Tolerance, then, does not suppose any new principles in a man, but rather a quality acquired by practice; a disposition of mind, into which a man finds himself insensibly led; a habit of patience, formed in him by constantly having to bear with what he disapproves of.
Now, if we consider tolerance in men who are not religious, we shall observe that there are two ways of being irreligious. There are men who not only have no religion, but who have an animosity against it, either on account of some fatal error they entertain, or because they find it an obstacle to their designs. These men are extremely intolerant; and their intolerance is the worst of all, because it is not accompanied by any moral principle which can restrain it. A man thus circumstanced feels himself, as it were, continually at war with himself and the human race; with himself, because he must stifle the cries of his own conscience: with the human race, because all protest against the mad doctrine that pretends to banish the worship of God from the earth. Therefore we find among men of this kind much rancor and spleen; therefore their words are full of gall; therefore they have constantly recourse to raillery, insult, and calumny.
But there is another class of men who, although devoid of religion, are not strongly prejudiced against the faith. They live in a kind of skepticism, into which the reading of bad books, or the observations of a superficial and frivolous philosophy, have led them; they are not attached to religion, but they are not its enemies. Many of them acknowledge the importance of religion for the good of society, and some of them even feel within themselves a certain desire to return to the faith; in their moments of recollection and meditation, they remember with pleasure the days when they offered to God an obedient spirit and a pure heart; and at the sight of the rapid course of life, they perhaps love to cherish the hope of becoming reconciled with the God of their fathers, before they descend into the grave. These men are tolerant; but, if carefully examined, their tolerance is not a principle or a virtue, it is only a necessity resulting from their position. It is difficult to be indignant at the opinions of others, when we have none of our own—when, consequently, we do not come into collision with any. It is difficult to be violently opposed to religion, when we consider it as a thing necessary for the welfare of society; there can be no hatred or rancor towards faith in a soul which desires its mercy, and which, perhaps, fixes its eyes upon it as the last beam of hope amid the terrors of an alarming future. Tolerance, in this case, is nothing strange; it is natural and necessary. Intolerance would be inconceivable and extravagant, and could arise only from a bad heart.
In applying these remarks to society instead of individuals, it must be observed that tolerance, as well as intolerance, may be considered in government, or in society. It sometimes happens that government and society are not agreed; while the former maintains one principle, the reverse may prevail in the latter. As governments are composed of a limited number of individuals, all that has been said of tolerance, considered individually, may be applied to them. Let us not forget, however, that men placed in authority are not free to give themselves up without limit to the impulses of their own opinions or feelings; they are often forced to immolate their own feelings on the altar of public opinion. They may, owing to peculiar circumstances, oppose or impede that opinion for a time; but it will soon stop them, and force them to change their course.
As sooner or later government becomes the expression of the ideas and feelings of society, we shall content ourselves with considering tolerance in the latter; we shall observe that society, with respect to tolerance, follows the same path as individuals. This is with it not the effect of a principle, but of a habit. Men of different creeds, who live together for a long time in the same society, end by tolerating each other; they are led to this by growing weary of collision with each other, and by the wish for a kind of life more quiet and peaceful. But when men, thus divided in creed, find themselves face to face for the first time, a shock more or less rude is the inevitable result. The causes of this phenomenon are to be found in human nature itself; it is one of those necessities against which we struggle in vain.
Some modern philosophers have imagined that society is indebted to them for the spirit of toleration which prevails there; they have not seen that it is much rather a fact slowly brought about by the force of circumstances, than it is the fruit of their doctrines. Indeed, what have they said that is new? They have recommended universal fraternity; but this has always been one of the doctrines of Christianity. They have exhorted men of all the different religions to live in peace together; but before they had opened their mouths to tell them this, men began to adopt this course in many countries of Europe; for, unhappily, religions in many countries were so numerous and different, that none of them could pretend to exclusive dominion. It is true that some infidel, philosophers have a claim, and a deplorable one, in support of their pretensions with respect to the development of toleration; it is, that, by their efforts to disseminate infidelity and skepticism, they have succeeded in making general, in nations and governments, that false toleration which has nothing virtuous, but is indifference with respect to all religions. Indeed, why is tolerance so general in our age? or, rather, in what does our tolerance consist? If you observe well, you will find that it is nothing but the result of a social condition perfectly similar to that of the individual who has no creed, but who does not hate creeds, because he considers them as conducive to the public good, and cherishes a vague hope of one day finding a last asylum therein. All that is good in this is in no degree owing to the infidel philosophers, but may rather be said to be a protest against them. Indeed, when they could not obtain the supreme command, they lavished calumnies and sarcasms on all that is most sacred in heaven and on earth; and, when they did raise themselves to power, they overturned with indescribable fury all that existed, and destroyed millions of victims in exile or on the scaffolds. The multitude of religions,—infidelity, indifference, the improvement of manners, the lassitude produced by wars,—industrial and commercial organization, which every day becomes more powerful in society,—communication rendered more frequent among men by means of travelling,—the diffusion of ideas by the press;—such are the causes which have produced in Europe that universal tolerance which has taken possession of all, and has been established in fact when it could not by law. These causes, as it is easy to observe, are of different kinds; no doctrine can pretend to an exclusive influence; they are the result of a thousand different influences, which act simultaneously on the development of civilization.[24]
[CHAPTER XXXV.]
ON THE RIGHT OF COERCION IN GENERAL.
How much, during the last century, was said against intolerance! A philosophy less superficial than that which then prevailed would have reflected a little more on a fact which may be appreciated in different ways, but the existence of which cannot be denied. In Greece, Socrates died drinking hemlock. Rome, whose tolerance has been so much vaunted, tolerated, indeed, foreign gods; but these were only foreign in name, since they formed a part of that system of pantheism which was the foundation of the Roman religion; gods, who, in order to be declared gods of Rome, only needed the mere formality, as it were, of receiving the name of citizens. But Rome did not admit the gods of Egypt any more than the Jewish or Christian religion. She had, no doubt, many false ideas with respect to these religions; but she was sufficiently acquainted with them to know that they were essentially different from her own. The history of the Pagan emperors is the history of the persecution of the Church; as soon as they became Christians, a system of penal legislation was commenced against those who differed from the religion of the state. In subsequent centuries, intolerance continued under various forms; it has been perpetuated down to our times, and we are not so free from it as some would wish to make us believe. The emancipation of Catholics in England is but of recent date; the violent disputes of the Prussian government with the Pope, on the subject of certain arbitrary acts of that government against the Catholic religion, are of yesterday; the question of Argau, in Switzerland, is still pending; and the persecution of Catholicity by the Russian government is pursued in as scandalous a manner as at any former period. Thus it is with religious sects. As to the toleration of the humane philosophers of the 18th century, it was exemplified in Robespierre.
Every government professing a religion is more or less intolerant towards those which it does not profess; and this intolerance is diminished or destroyed, only when the professors of the obnoxious religions are either feared on account of their great power, or despised on account of their weakness. Apply to all times and countries the rule which we have just laid down, you will everywhere find it exact; it is an abridgment of the history of governments in their relations with religions. The Protestant government of England has always been intolerant toward Catholics; and it will continue to be so, more or less, according to circumstances. The governments of Russia and Prussia will continue to act as they have done up to this time, with the exception of modifications required by difference of times; in the same way, in countries where Catholicity prevails, the exercise of the Protestant worship will always be more or less interfered with. I shall be told of the instance of France as a proof of the contrary; in that country, where the immense majority profess the Catholic religion, other worships are allowed, without any disposition on the part of the state to disturb them. This toleration will perhaps be attributed to public opinion; it comes, I think, from this, that no fixed principle prevails there in the government: all the policy of France, internal and external, is a constant compromise to get out of difficulties in the best possible way. This is shown by facts; it appears from the well-known opinions of the small number of men who, for some years, have ruled the destinies of France. It has been attempted to establish in principle universal toleration, and refuse to government the right of violating consciences in religious matters; nevertheless, in spite of all that has been said, philosophers have not been able to make a very clear exposition of their principle, still less have they been able to procure its general adoption as a system in the government of states. In order to show that the thing is not quite so simple as has been supposed, I will beg leave to ask a few questions of these soi-disant philosophers. If a religion which required human sacrifices were established in your country, would you tolerate it? No. And why? Because we cannot tolerate such a crime. But then you will be intolerant; you will violate the consciences of others, by proscribing, as a crime, what in their eyes is a homage to the Divinity. Thus thought many nations of old, and so think some now. By what right do you make your conscience prevail over theirs?—It matters not; we shall be intolerant, but our intolerance will be for the good of humanity.—I applaud your conduct; but you cannot deny that it is a case in which intolerance with respect to a religion appears to you a right and a duty. Still further: if you proscribe the exercise of this atrocious worship, would you allow the doctrine to be taught which preaches as holy and salutary the practice of human sacrifices? No; for that would be permitting the teaching of murder. Very well, but you must acknowledge that this is a doctrine with respect to which you have a right to be, and are obliged to be, intolerant. Let us pursue our subject. You are aware, no doubt, of the sacrifices offered in antiquity to the goddess of Love, and the infamous worship which was paid to her in the temples of Babylon and Corinth. If such a worship reappeared among you, would you tolerate it? No; for it is contrary to the sacred laws of modesty. Would you allow the doctrine on which it was based to be taught? No; for the same reason. This, then, is another case in which you believe you have the right and the obligation to violate the consciences of others; and the only reason you can assign for it is, that you are compelled to do so by your own conscience. Moreover, suppose that some men, over-excited by reading the Bible, desired to establish a new Christianity, in imitation of Mathew of Haarlem or John of Leyden; suppose that these sectaries began to propagate their doctrines, to assemble together in bodies, and that their fanatical declamation seduced a portion of the people, would you tolerate this new religion? No; for these men might renew the bloody scenes of Germany in the 16th century, when, in the name of God, and to fulfil, as they said, the order of the Most High, the Anabaptists invaded all property, destroyed all existing power, and spread everywhere desolation and death. This would be to act with as much justice as prudence; but you cannot deny that you would thereby commit an act of intolerance. What, then, becomes of universal toleration, that principle so evident, so predominant, if you are compelled at every step to limit, and I will say more, to lay it aside, and act in a way diametrically opposite to it? You will say that the security of the state, the good order of society, and public morality compel you to act in this way. But then, what sort of a principle is it that, in certain cases, is in opposition to the interests of morality and to society, and to the safety of the state? Do you think that the men against whom you declaim did not intend also to protect these interests, by acting with that intolerance which is so revolting to you?