Loe raamatut: «Protestantism and Catholicity», lehekülg 47

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.

In order to comprehend fully the relations which Catholicity bears to political institutions, in order to ascertain what degree of affinity it bears to such and such forms, and to form a correct idea of the influence of Protestantism in this respect over European civilization, we must examine carefully and in detail each of the elements claiming preponderance. When we examine them afterwards in their relations with each other, we will ascertain, as far as possible, where the truth lies in this shapeless mass. Every one of these three may be considered in two ways: 1. According to the ideas formed of them at the period we are speaking of; 2. According to the interests these elements represent, and the part they play in society. We must lay particular stress upon this distinction, without which we should expose ourselves to the commission of serious errors. In fact, the ideas which were entertained upon such or such principles of government did not coincide with the interest represented by this same element, and with the part it acted in society; and although it is clear that these two things must have had very close relations with each other, and could not be disengaged from a real and reciprocal influence, yet it is most certain that they differ considerably, and that this difference, the source of very various considerations, shows the subject in points of view quite dissimilar.

CHAPTER LVIII.
MONARCHY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

The idea of monarchy has ever existed in the bosom of European society, even at the time when the least use was made of it; and it is worthy of remark, that at the time when its energy was taken away, and it was destroyed in practice, it still retained its force in theory. We cannot say that our ancestors had any very fixed notions upon the nature of the object represented by this idea; nor can we wonder at it, since the continual variations and modifications which they witnessed must have prevented them from forming any very correct knowledge of it. Nevertheless, if we peruse the codes in places where monarchy is treated of, and if we consult the writings which have been preserved upon this matter, we shall find that their ideas on this point were more fixed than might have been imagined. By studying the manner of thinking of this period, we find that men in general were almost destitute of analytical knowledge, being more erudite than philosophical; so much so, that they scarcely ventured to express an idea without supporting it by a multitude of authorities. This taste for erudition, which is visible at the first glance into their writings – a mere tissue of quotations – and which must have been very natural, since it was so general and lasting, had very advantageous results; not the least of which was the uniting of ancient with modern society, by the preservation of a great number of records and memorials, which, had it not been for this public taste, must have been destroyed, and by exhuming from the dust the remains of antiquity about to perish. But, on the other hand, it produced many evils; amongst others, a sort of stifling of thought, which could no longer indulge in its own inspirations, although they may have been more happy than the ancient ones on some points.

However it may be, such is the fact: on examining it in relation to the matter under discussion, we find that monarchy was represented at that time as one single picture, in which there appeared at the same time the kings of the Jews and the Roman emperors, whose features had been corrected by the hand of Christianity. That is to say, the principles of monarchy were composed of the teachings of Scripture and the Roman codes. Seek every where the idea of emperor, king, or prince, you will always find the same thing, whether you look for the origin of power, its extent, its exercise, or its object. But what ideas were entertained of monarchy? What was the acceptation of this word? Taken in a general sense, abstractedly from the various modifications which a variety of circumstances gave to its signification, it meant, the supreme command over society, vested in the hands of one man, who was to exercise it according to reason and justice. This was the leading idea, the only one fixed, as a sort of pole, round which all other questions revolved. Did the monarch possess in himself the faculty of making laws without consulting general assemblies, which, under different names, represented the different classes of the kingdom? From the moment that we propose this question we come upon new ground. We have descended from theory to practice; we have brought our ideas into contact with the object to which they are to be applied. From that moment, we must allow, every thing vacillates and becomes obscure; a thousand incoherent, strange, and contradictory facts pass before our eyes; the parchments upon which are inscribed the rights, liberties, and laws of the people give rise to a variety of interpretations, which multiply doubts and increase difficulties. We see, in the first place, that the relations of the monarch with the subject, or, more properly speaking, the mode in which government should be exercised, was not very well defined. The confusion from which society was emerging was still felt, and was inevitable in an aggregation of heterogeneous bodies, in a combination of rival and hostile elements; that is, we discover an embryo, and consequently it is impossible as yet to find regular and well-defined forms.

Did this idea of monarchy contain any thing of despotism, any thing that subjected one man to the dominion of another by setting aside the eternal laws of reason and justice? No; from the moment that we touch upon this point we discover a new horizon, clear and transparent, upon which objects present themselves distinctly, without a shade of dimness or obscurity. The answer of all writers is decisive: Rule ought to be conformable to reason and justice; if it is not, it is mere tyranny. So that the principle maintained by M. Guizot, in his Discours sur la Democratie moderne, and in his History of Civilisation in Europe, viz. that the will alone does not constitute a right; that laws, to be laws, should accord with those of eternal reason, the only source of all legitimate power; – that this principle, I say, which we might imagine to be newly applied to society, is as ancient as the world. Acknowledged by ancient philosophers, developed, inculcated, and applied by Christianity, we find it in every page of jurists and theologians.

But we know what this principle was worth in the monarchies of antiquity, and also in our own days in countries where Christianity has not yet been established. Who, in such countries, presumes continually to remind kings of their obligation to be just? Observe, on the contrary, what is the case among Christians: the words 'reason' and 'justice' are constantly in the mouth of the subject, because he knows that no one has a right to treat him unreasonably or unjustly; and this he knows, because Christianity has impressed him with a profound idea of his own dignity, because it has accustomed him to look upon reason and justice, not as vain words, but as eternal characters engraven on the heart of man by the hand of God, perpetually reminding man that, although he is a frail creature, subject to error and to weakness, he is, nevertheless, stamped with the image of eternal truth and of immutable justice. If any one should question the truth of what I have advanced, it will suffice, to convince him, to remind him of the numerous texts previously cited in this work, and in which the most eminent Catholic writers bear testimony to their manner of thinking on the origin and faculties of civil power.

So much for ideas; as for facts, they vary according to times and countries. During the incursions of the barbarians, and so long as the feudal system prevailed, monarchy remained much beneath its typical idea; but during the course of the sixteenth century, matters assumed a different aspect. In Germany, France, England, and Spain, powerful monarchs were reigning, who filled the world with the fame of their names; in their presence aristocracy and democracy bowed with humility; or if by chance they ventured to raise their heads, it was only to suffer still greater degradation. The throne, it is true, had not yet attained that ascendency of power and importance which it acquired in the following century; but its destiny was irrevocably fixed – power and glory awaited it. Aristocracy and democracy might have labored to take part in future events; but it would have been labor in vain for them to attempt to appropriate them. A fixed and powerful centre was essential to European society, and monarchy completely satisfied this imperative necessity. The people understood and felt it; hence we find them eagerly grasping at this saving principle, and placing themselves under the safeguard of the throne.

The question is not, therefore, whether or not the throne ought to exist, or whether it ought to preponderate over aristocracy and democracy: these two questions have been already resolved. At the commencement of the sixteenth century, its existence and preponderance were already necessary. The question to be resolved is, whether the throne ought so decisively to have prevailed, that the two elements, aristocracy and democracy, should be erased from the political world; whether the combination which had hitherto existed was still to exist: or, whether these two elements should disappear; whether monarchical power should be absolute. The Church resisted royal power when it attempted to lay hands upon sacred things; but her zeal never carried her so far as to depreciate, in the eyes of the people, an authority which was so essential to them. On the contrary, besides continually giving to the power of kings a more solid basis, by her doctrines favorable to all legitimate authority, she endeavored to give them a still more sacred character by the august ceremonies displayed at their coronations. The Church has been sometimes accused of anarchical tendencies, for having energetically struggled against the pretensions of sovereigns; by some, on the contrary, she has been reproached with favoring despotism, because she preached up to the people the duty of obedience to the lawful authorities. If I mistake not, these accusations, so opposite to each other, prove that the Church has neither been adulatory nor anarchical; she has maintained the balance even, by telling the truth both to kings and their subjects.

Let the spirit of sectarianism seek, on all sides, historical facts, to prove that the Popes have attempted to destroy civil monarchy by confiscating it to their own profit. But let us bear in mind what the Protestant Müller says, that the Father of the faithful was, during the barbarous ages, a tutor sent by God to the European nations; and let us not be astonished to find that differences have sometimes occurred between him and his pupils. To discover the intention which dictated these reproaches against the Court of Rome, relative to monarchy, we need only reflect upon the following question. All writers consider as a great benefit the creation of a strong central authority, and yet circumscribed within just limits that it may not abuse its power; they laud to the skies every thing tending, directly or indirectly, among all the nations of Europe, to establish such an authority. Why, then, when speaking of the conduct of Popes, do they attribute to a pretended taste for despotism the support which they give to royal authority, whilst they qualify with anarchical usurpation their efforts to restrain, upon certain points, the faculties of sovereigns? The answer is not difficult.34