It is true that, in conflicts arising from civil discord, many men throw aside their own convictions to accommodate themselves to the exigencies of their interests; but it is no less certain, that there is still to be found a great number of conscientious men who adhere to them. We may also add, that the generality of the individuals composing a nation, not being usually in the urgent necessity of choosing between the sacrifice of their convictions and the risk of grave and imminent peril, those who entertain them usually find means to make their influence felt in preventing great evils or in remedying them. According to certain pessimistes, reason and justice are for ever banished from the earth, leaving it a prey to self-interest, and substituting for the dictates of conscience the designs of egotism. In their estimation, it is labor in vain to discuss and decide questions which may guide us in practice; for, according to them, whatever a man's conviction may be in theory, his practical decision will always be the same. It is my happiness, or misfortune, to take a different view of the case, and to believe that there still exist in the world, and particularly in Spain, men of profound convictions, and possessed of sufficient strength of mind to regulate their conduct by those convictions. The strongest proof that the inutility of doctrines is exaggerated, is the zeal evinced by all parties to lay hold of them. Whether from interest or from delicacy, all appeal to doctrines; and this interest or delicacy would not exist, if doctrines did not possess a powerful ascendency in society. Nothing, in discussion, is more perplexing than the introduction of several questions at the same time; and for this reason, I shall proceed in such a manner as to distinguish those which present themselves here. I will resolve, one by one, those which relate to our object, and pass over those which are foreign to it. Above all, we must bear in mind the general principle at all times inculcated by Catholicity, viz. the obligation of obeying legitimate authority. Let us now see how this principle is to be applied. In the first place, Are we to obey the civil power when it commands something that is evil in itself? No, we are not; for the simple reason that what is evil in itself is forbidden by God; now, we must obey God rather than men.
In the second place, Are we to obey the civil power when it interferes in matters not included in the circle of its faculties? No; for, with regard to these matters, it is not a power. From the very supposition that its faculties do not extend so far, we affirm that, in this point of view, it is not a real power. Besides, what I have advanced does not exactly and exclusively concern spiritual matters, to which I appear to allude. I apply this restriction of civil power also to matters purely temporal. It is necessary to refer here to what I have said in another part of this work, viz., that whilst we grant to civil power sufficient force and attributes for the maintenance of order and unity in the social body, it is just nevertheless, that we should not allow it to absorb the individual and the family, so as to destroy their individuality, to deprive them of their own sphere, and leave them only the means of acting as an integral part of society. This is one of the distinguishing features between Christian and pagan civilisation: the latter, in its zeal for the preservation of social unity, excluded every individual and family right; the former, on the contrary, has amalgamated the interests of the individual with those of families and society, so that they neither destroy nor embarrass each other. Thus, besides the sphere within which the action of the civil power is properly confined, there are others into which it has no right to enter, and in which individuals and families live without clashing with the colossal force of the government.
It is just to observe here, that Catholicity has done much for the maintenance of this principle, which is a strong guarantee of the liberty of the people. The separation of the two powers temporal and spiritual, the independence of the latter with respect to the former, the distinction of the persons in whom it is vested: such has been one of the principal causes of this liberty, which, under different forms of government, is the common inheritance of European nations. Ever since the foundation of the Church, this principle of the independence of the spiritual power has at all times served, by the mere fact of its existence, to remind men that the rights of civil power are limited, that there are things beyond its province, cases in which a man may say, and ought to say, I will not obey.
This is another of those cases in which Protestantism has given a wrong direction to the civilisation of Europe, and in which, far from opening the way to liberty, it has riveted the chains of slavery. Its first step was the abolition of the Pontifical authority, the overthrow of the hierarchy, the refusal to grant to the Church any kind of power whatever, and the placing of spiritual supremacy in the hands of princes; that is to say, it has retrograded towards pagan civilisation, in which we find the sceptre united with the pontificate. The grand political problem was precisely the separation of these two powers, in order to save society from subjection to one sole unlimited authority, exercising its faculties without restraint, and from which might consequently be expected vexation and oppression. This separation was effected without any political views, any fixed design on the part of men, wherever Catholicity was established; for her discipline required and her dogmas inculcated it. Is it not strange that the advocates of theories of equilibrium and counterpoise, who have so loudly extolled the utility of separating powers, and of dividing authority among them with a view to prevent it from being converted into tyranny, should not have noticed the profound wisdom of this Catholic doctrine, even when considered merely in a social and political point of view? But no; it is remarkable, on the contrary, that all modern revolutions have manifested a decided tendency towards the amalgamation of the civil and ecclesiastical powers—a convincing proof that these revolutions have proceeded from an origin contrary to the generative principle of European civilisation, and that instead of guiding it towards perfection, they have rather served to lead it astray. The union of Church and State in England, under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, produced the most cruel despotism; and if that country at a later period acquired a higher degree of liberty, it was not assuredly owing to that religious authority given by Protestantism to the head of the state, but in spite of it. It is worthy of remark, that in later times, when England entered upon a more extensive sphere of liberty, it was owing to the diminution of the civil power on all matters appertaining to religion, and to a greater development of Catholicity, opposed in its very principles to this monstrous supremacy. In the North of Europe, where the Protestant system has also prevailed, civil authority has been unlimited; and even at the present time, we find the Emperor of Russia indulging in the most barbarous persecutions against Catholics; more distrustful of those who defend the independence of spiritual power, than of the revolutionary clubs. The autocrat is devoured with a thirst for unlimited authority, and a decided instinct urges him to attack in particular the Catholic religion, which forms his principal obstacle.
It is remarkable with what uniformity all power, in this respect, tends to despotism, whether under a revolutionary or monarchical form. Impatient of the restraint laid upon him by the spiritual power, Louis XIV. attempted to crush the power of Rome. He was urged to it by the same motives as the Constituent Assembly; the monarch rested his cause upon the rights of royalty, and the liberties of the Gallican Church—the Constituent Assembly invoked the rights of the nation, and the principles of philosophy; but in the main they were actuated by one and the same motive, that of ascertaining whether or not civil power should be restricted: in the former case, it was monarchy tending to despotism; in the latter, democracy advancing to the terrors of the Convention. When Napoleon wished to bruise the head of the revolutionary hydra, to reorganize society, to create a power, he made use of religion as the most potent element. Catholicity was the only predominating religion in France; to this he had recourse, and signed the Concordat. But, observe, that no sooner did he imagine his work of reparation complete, and the critical moment of the establishment of his power passed, than he began to think of extending it, of freeing himself from all restraint. He began to look upon that pontiff, whose presence at his coronation had so much gratified him, with a more supercilious eye. At first he had some serious disputes with him, and ended by becoming his most inveterate enemy.
These observations, to which I invite the attention of every reflecting mind, acquire more importance from the consideration of what has taken place in our own religious and most Catholic monarchy. In spite of the preponderating influence of the Catholic religion in Spain, the principle of resistance to the court of Rome has ever been preserved in a particular and remarkable manner; thus, whilst the Austrian dynasty and the Bourbons endeavoured to lay aside our old laws, so far as they were favourable to political liberty, they preserved as a sacred deposit the traditional resistance of Ferdinand the Catholic, of Charles V., and of Philip II. The deep root which Catholicity had taken in Spain doubtless prevented matters from being carried to extremes; but it is no less true that the germ existed, and was handed down from generation to generation, as if its complete development was expected at some more favourable period. This fact was placed in peculiarly strong relief at the time of the Bourbon accession, when the monarchy of Louis XIV. was introduced amongst us, and the last vestiges of the ancient liberties of Castile, Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia disappeared; the mania for kingly rights was at its height in the reigns of Charles III. and Charles IV. Strange coincidence! The epoch in which the greatest jealousy was entertained against the Court of Rome and the independence of Church authority, was exactly that in which ministerial despotism was in its greatest force, and in which there was seen something still worse—the despotism of a favorite, with all its pitiful show. True, the ideas of the French schools were at that time influencing Spain; and of this neither the King, nor, probably, some of his ministers, were aware: but this does not militate against the reflections we are making; on the contrary, it comes in support of them, by showing their applicability to circumstances quite dissimilar, and consequently their soundness and importance. The object here aimed at was the overthrow of the established authority, to make way for another equally unlimited; to effect this, it was necessary to urge on the former to abuse its prerogatives, and, at the same time, to establish precedents to fall back upon, so soon as the revolution should have displaced the absolute monarchy. What important reflections are here presented to us! What strange analogies rise to view between circumstances apparently most antagonistic! In our times, we have seen bishops brought to trial from the same motives that were alleged in a celebrated cause in the reign of Charles III.; and the Supreme Tribunals of our own days have heard from the lips of their fiscals[B] the same doctrines formerly propounded by those of the Council. Thus do doctrines meet, and thus, by different ways, do we arrive at the same end. According to the ancient fiscals, the authority of the king was every thing; the rights of the crown, like the ark of old, were held so sacred, that to touch, or even to look upon them, was accounted a sacrilege. Well, the ancient monarchy has disappeared—the throne is no longer any thing more than a shadow of what it once was—the Revolution has triumphed over it; and yet, despite a change so profound, it is not long since a fiscal of the Supreme Tribunal, charging a bishop with an offence against the rights of the civil power, made use of these words: "In the state, a leaf cannot be plucked without the permission of government." These words need no comment; the writer of these lines heard them uttered; and this plain, unequivocal declaration of arbitrary power seemed to him to throw a new ray of light upon history.
The gravity and importance of this subject required this digression; it was incumbent on me to show how far the Catholic principle of the independence of spiritual power may serve the cause of true liberty. This principle, in fact, eminently teaches that the faculties of civil power are limited, and it is, consequently, a perpetual condemnation of despotism. To revert to the original question. It remains, then, established, that we are to be subject to the civil power so long as it does not go beyond its proper limits; but that the Catholic doctrine never enjoins obedience when civil power oversteps the limits of its faculties.
It will not be uninteresting to the reader to learn how the principle of obedience was understood by one of the most illustrious interpreters of Catholic doctrine—by the holy Doctor so often cited. According to him, whenever laws are unjust (and observe, that, in his opinion, they may be so in many ways), they are not binding on conscience, unless for fear of creating scandal, or causing greater evils; that is to say, that, in certain cases, an unjust law may become obligatory, not by virtue of any duty which it imposes, but from motives of prudence. These are his words, to which I crave the reader's particular attention: "Laws are unjust in two ways; either because they are opposed to the common weal; or on account of their aim, as is the case when a government imposes upon its subjects onerous laws, not for the good of the commonweal, but for the sake of self-interest or ambition; or on account of their author, as when any one makes a law without being invested with proper faculties; again, they may be unjust in form, as when the taxes are unequally divided among the multitude, although in other respects tending to the public good. Such laws are rather outrages than laws; since, as St. Augustin observes (lib. i. de Lib. Arb. cap. 5), 'An unjust law does not appear to be a law.' Such laws, therefore, are not binding in conscience, unless, perhaps, for the avoiding of scandal and trouble—a motive which ought to induce man to give up his right, as St. Matthew observes: 'And whosoever shall force thee to go one mile, go with him other two; and if any man will go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.' Laws may also be unjust in another point of view, when they are contrary to the will of God; as the laws of tyrants enforcing idolatry, or anything else contrary to divine law. With respect to such laws, it is not allowable, under any circumstances, to obey them; for, as it is said in the Acts of the Apostles, 'We must obey God rather than man.'" "Injustæ autem sunt leges dupliciter; uno modo per contrarietatem ad bonum commune e contrario prædictis, vel ex fine, sicut cum aliquis præsidens leges imponit onerosas subditis non pertinentes ad utilitatem communem, sed magis ad propriam cupiditatem vel gloriam; vel etiam ex auctore, sicut cum aliquis legem fert ultra sibi commissam potestatem; vel etiam ex forma cum inæqualiter onera multitudinis dispensantur, etiamsi ordinentur ad bonum commune; et hujusmodi magis sunt violentiæ quam leges, quia sicut Augustinus dicit (lib. i. de Lib. Arb. cap. 5, parum a princ.) lex esse non videtur quæ justa non fuerit, unde tales leges in foro conscientiæ non obligant, nisi forte propter vitandum scandalum vel turbationem, propter quod etiam homo juri suo cedere debet secundum illud Math. cap. v. 'Qui te angariaverit mille passus, vade cum eo alia duo, et qui abstulerit tibi tunicam da ei et pallium.' Alio modo leges possunt esse injustæ per contrarietatem ad bonum divinum, sicut leges tyrannorum inducentes ad idololatriam, vel ad quodcumque aliud quod sit contra legem divinam, et tales leges nullo modo licet observare, quia sicut dicitur Act. cap. v.: 'Obedire oportet Deo magis quam hominibus.'" (D. Th. 1, 2, quæst. 90, art. 1.)
This doctrine furnishes us with the following rules:
1. We cannot, under any circumstances, obey the civil power when its commands are opposed to the divine law.