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.
I shall commence, in the first place, by completely laying aside the question whether it was advantageous or not to society that, in the greatest part of European monarchies, royal power should have any other limits than those naturally imposed upon it by the state of ideas and customs. This question some will answer in the affirmative, others in the negative; and I need not observe to what party they respectively belong. To many people the word liberty is a scandal, just as the term absolute power is with others synonymous with despotism. But what is that liberty which the former repel with so much force? what meaning is attached to this word in their dictionaries? They have witnessed the French Revolution, with its iniquities and frightful crimes, and they have heard it continually crying out for liberty: they have witnessed the Spanish Revolution, with its vociferations of death, and its sanguinary excesses – its injustice, its disdain for every thing that Spaniards had been accustomed to esteem the most valuable and sacred; and yet they have heard the cries of this Revolution also for liberty. What was to be expected? Why, what we now witness. They confounded the name of liberty with all sorts of impieties and crimes; and, in consequence, they hated it, they repelled it, they fought against it sword in hand. In vain were they informed that the cortes was an ancient institution; they replied, that the ancient cortes was not like that of their times. In vain were they reminded that our laws ordained the nation's right of interference by its vote on the levying of taxes. They replied: "We are well aware of it; but the nation is not now represented by those who interfere in its affairs; they only avail themselves of this pretended title to enslave both the king and the people." They were told that the representatives of the different classes had formerly the right of intervention in the important affairs of the state. "What class do you represent," they replied; "you who degrade the monarch, insult and persecute the nobility, abuse and plunder the clergy, despising the people, and making their customs and their religious belief a subject for your sneers? What, then, do you represent? Is it the Spanish nation, when you trample on her religion and laws, when you excite social dissolution on all sides, and make blood flow in torrents? How can you call yourselves the restorers of our fundamental laws, when we find nothing either in you or in your acts which marks the true Spaniard; when all your theories, plans, and projects are only miserable copies of foreign books but too well known, while you have forgotten your own language?"
I pray the reader will cast his eyes over the files of the journals, the bulletins of the cortes, and other documents that remain of the two epochs of 1812 and 1820; let him also call to mind the events we have recently witnessed; let him afterwards peruse the records and memorials of anterior epochs, – our codes, our books, every thing, in fine, capable of throwing light upon the character, the ideas, and the customs of the Spanish people; then let him lay his hand upon his heart, and, whatever be his political opinions, let him tell us, upon his honor, if he finds the least resemblance between the past and the present; if he does not, at the very first glance, perceive a striking and violent contrast between the two epochs – a chasm, in fact, to fill up which, I say it with grief, would require heaps of fresh ruins, ashes, dead bodies, and torrents of blood. Were we to place the question beyond the influence of the empoisoned atmosphere of human passions and of bitter recollections, we might, it is true, very well examine the expediency of allowing the royal authority to attain to a growth that set it free from every kind of check or restraint, even in affairs of the most essential importance and in the voting of the government supplies. The question would then have merely a historico-political aspect, could not be confounded with actual practice, and, consequently, would not affect either the interests or the opinions of our time. However that might be, I will not stop to consider or to notice what has been thought and said upon the subject, but will take up the hypothesis, that the disappearance from the body politic, at that time, of every element save the monarchical, was a misfortune to the people, and an obstacle to the progress of true civilization. And whose was the fault? let me ask.
It is remarkable that the greatest increase of royal power in Europe dates precisely from the commencement of Protestantism. In England, from the time of Henry VIII., not only did monarchy prevail, but a despotism so cruel that no vain appearances of impotent forms have availed to disguise its excesses. In France, after the Huguenot war, royal power became more absolute than ever; in Sweden, Gustavus ascended the throne, and from that time kings began to exercise an almost unlimited power; in Denmark, monarchy continued, and became stronger; in Germany, the kingdom of Prussia was formed, and absolute forms generally prevailed; in Austria, the empire of Charles V. arose in all its power and splendor; in Italy, the small republics were fast disappearing, and the people, under some title or another, became subject to princes; in Spain, in fine, the ancient cortes of Castile, Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia fell into disuse: that is to say, instead of seeing, by the accession of Protestantism, the people take one step towards representative forms, we find, on the contrary, that they rapidly advanced towards absolute government. This is a certain, incontestable fact. Sufficient attention has not perhaps been paid to so singular a coincidence; but it is not the less real, and is certainly of a nature to suggest numerous and interesting reflections. Was this coincidence purely accidental? Was there any hidden connection between Protestantism and the development and definitive establishment of absolutism? I think there was; and I will even add, that, had Catholicism retained an exclusive sway in Europe, the power of the throne would have been gradually diminished – that representative forms would probably not have disappeared altogether – that the people would have continued to take part in national affairs – that we should have been much farther advanced in civilization, much better fitted for the enjoyment of true liberty – and that this liberty would not be associated in our minds with scenes of horror. Yes, the fatal Reformation has given a wrong direction to European society, injured civilization, created necessities that previously had no existence, and opened chasms which it cannot close. It destroyed many elements of good, and consequently produced a radical change in the conditions of the political problem. This I think I can demonstrate.
CHAPTER LXIII.
TWO KINDS OF DEMOCRACY
There is in the history of Europe one leading fact contained in all its pages, and still visible in our days, viz. the parallel march of two democracies, which, although sometimes apparently alike, are, in reality, very different in their nature, origin, and aim. The one is based upon the knowledge and dignity of man, and on the right which he possesses of enjoying a certain amount of liberty conformable to reason and justice. With ideas more or less clear, more or less uniform, upon the real origin of society and of power, it entertains at least very clear, precise, and fixed ones upon the real object and aim of both. Whether the right of commanding proceeds directly and immediately from God, or whether we suppose it communicated previously to society, and transmitted afterwards to those who govern, it always grants that power is for the common weal, and that, if it does not direct its actions to this end, it falls into tyranny. To privileges, honors, and distinctions of every kind, it applies its favorite touchstone – the public good; whatever is opposed to this, is rejected as noxious; whatever does not tend to promote it, is repudiated as superfluous. Convinced that knowledge and virtue are the only things of real worth, and deserving of consideration in the distribution of the social functions, this democracy requires them to be sought without ceasing, that they may be elevated to the summit of power and of glory; it goes to seek them in the midst of the deepest obscurity. A nobleman, proud of his titles and his heraldry, and boasting of the glorious deeds of his ancestors, without being able to imitate them, is, in its estimation, an object of ridicule; it will allow such a man to enjoy his riches, that the sacred right of property may not be violated; but it will remove from his grasp, by all lawful means, the influence he might derive from the nobility of his blood. In fine, if it takes nobility, birth or riches into consideration, it is not for any intrinsic worth of these advantages, but because they are signs which lead us to expect a more accomplished education, more knowledge and probity.
Full of generous ideas, this democracy, placing the dignity of man in the highest degree, reminding man of his rights, and also of his duties, is indignant at the very name of tyranny. It hates tyranny, condemns it, repels it, and is perpetually employed in discovering the best means for preventing it. Wise and calm, as the inseparable companion of reason and good sense must ever be, it agrees very well with monarchy; but we may rest assured that its desires have generally been, that the laws of the country should, in one way or another, place a restraint upon the excesses of kings. Aware that the rock against which they ran the risk of being wrecked, was the excess of contributions levied upon the people, its favorite idea, which it has never abandoned, even when it was impracticable, has been to restrain the unlimited faculties of power with respect to contributions. Another of its predominating ideas has been to prevent the will of man from prevailing in the formation or application of the laws. It has ever sought to guarantee and secure in some way, that the will should not usurp the place of reason. Such has been the force of this universal desire, that it has been indelibly stamped upon European manners, and the most absolute monarchs have been compelled to gratify it. Hence one thing very worthy of remark is, that the throne has ever been surrounded by respectable counsellors, whose existence was insured either by the laws or by the national customs. These counsellors certainly could not preserve, in all circumstances, the independence necessary for the accomplishment of their object, but they did not fail to be of great service; for their mere existence was an eloquent protest against unjust and arbitrary regulations; it was a noble personification of reason and justice, pointing out the sacred limits ever to be regarded as inviolable by the most powerful monarch. This is also the reason why sovereigns in Europe never exercise themselves the faculty of pronouncing judgment, differing in this respect from the sultans. The laws and customs of Europe energetically repulse this faculty, as fatal to the people as it is to the monarch; and the mere recital of such an attempt would excite public indignation against its author.
The meaning of all this is, that this principle, so much extolled, that it is not the monarch but the law that commands, has been received in Europe for many centuries; it was in full force in all the European nations long before modern publicists emphatically enunciated it. It will be said, perhaps, that if this was the case in theory, it was not so in practice. I do not deny that there were reprehensible exceptions, but the principle was generally respected. As a case in point, let us take the most absolute reign of modern times, with the most unlimited royal power in all its splendor, in its apogee, – the reign in which the king could exclaim with too much pride, but yet with truth, "I am the state" – that of Louis the Fourteenth. It lasted more than half a century, with an astonishing variety and complication of events. How many deaths, confiscations, and banishments took place in it, executed by the royal command, without any judicial ordeal! Perhaps some arbitrary acts of this time may be cited; but let them be compared with what was passing under equivalent circumstances amongst the nations out of Europe: let any one recall to mind what took place at the time of the Roman empire, and the excesses of absolute royalty wherever Christianity did not exist, and he will see that the excesses committed in European monarchies are scarcely worthy of being mentioned. This is a proof that the distinction made between monarchical governments, whether absolute or despotic, is not arbitrary and fictitious. Any one acquainted with the legislation and history of Europe must be well aware that this distinction is correct, and he will be forced to smile at those boisterous declamations in which malice or ignorance endeavors to confound the two systems of government.
This limit imposed upon power, this circle of reason and justice which we always find traced around it, derives its origin principally from the ideas disseminated by Christianity, whether it have its guarantee in ideas and manners or in political forms. It is Christianity that has proclaimed, "Reason and justice, knowledge and virtue, are every thing; the mere will of man, his birth, his titles, are of no intrinsic value." These words have penetrated every where, from the palace of kings to the poor man's cottage; and, from the moment that the mind of an entire people became imbued with such ideas, Asiatic despotism became impracticable. In fact, in the absence of every political form limiting the power of the monarch, a voice resounds in his ears on all sides, exclaiming, "We are not thy slaves, we are thy subjects; thou art a king, but thou art a man, and a man who, like ourselves, must appear one day before the Supreme Judge; thou hast the power of making laws, but merely for our interests; thou canst exact tributes from us, but only such as are necessary for the common weal; thou canst not judge us according to thy caprice, but only conformably to the laws; thou canst not seize our property without rendering thyself more culpable than the common robber, nor make an attempt on our lives, of thy own will, without becoming an assassin; the power thou hast received is not for thy comfort or pleasure, nor for the gratification of thy passions, but solely for our happiness; thou art a person exclusively devoted to the public weal; if thou forgettest this, thou art a tyrant."
Unfortunately, however, together with this spirit of lawful independence, of rational liberty, – together with this just, noble, and generous democracy, there has ever been another accompanying it, and forming with it the most lively contrast. The latter has been extremely injurious to the former, by preventing it from attaining the object of its just pretensions; erroneous in its principles and perverse in its intentions, violent and unjust in its mode of acting, its traces have been everywhere marked by a stream of blood. Instead of obtaining true liberty for the people, it has merely served to deprive them of that which they already possessed; or if it actually found them groaning under the yoke of slavery, it has only served to rivet their chains. Allying itself on all occasions with the basest passions, it has attracted to its standard all that was most vile and abject in society, and gathered together the most turbulent and ill-disposed men. By cheating its miserable followers with delusive promises, and exciting them with the prospect of plunder and pillage, it has been a perpetual source of commotions, scandals, and bitter animosities, that have at length produced their natural results – persecutions, proscriptions, and executions. Its fundamental dogma was the rejection of all authority of every description, to overturn which was its constant aim; the reward it expected for its labors was to seat itself upon a throne established amidst universal ruin, to glut itself with the blood of thousands of victims, and to revel in the grossest orgies during the distribution of its blood-stained spoil. In all times, in all countries, riots, popular insurrections, and revolutions have taken place; but, for the last seven centuries, Europe presents these scenes in so singular a character, that it forms a most fitting subject for the reflection of philosophers. In fact, these tendencies towards social dissolution – tendencies, the origin of which it is not difficult to discover in the very heart of man – have not only existed in the bosom of Europe, but have been formed into a theory; as ideas, they have been defended with all the obstinacy and infatuation of a sectarian spirit; and, wherever an opportunity occurred, reduced to practice with unyielding pertinacity and unbridled fury. The system was made up of folly and fanaticism, and carried out with obstinacy, a spirit of proselytism, and monstrous crimes. In every page of its history this truth is attested in characters of blood. Happy our nation, had she not tried the experiment!
Europe may be compared to those men of great capacity and of active and intrepid characters, who are either the very best or the very worst of men. Scarcely can a single fact of any weight remain isolated in Europe: there is not a truth that is not useful, nor an error that is not fatal. Ideas have a tendency to become realized, and facts, in their turn, incessantly call in the aid of ideas. If virtues exist, they are explained, and their foundation is sought for in elevated theories. If crimes are met with, their vindication is attempted on the authority of perverse theories. Nations do not rest satisfied with the practice either of good or evil – they strive to propagate it, and are restless till they have induced their neighbors to imitate them. Nay, there is something beyond a mere spirit of proselytism limited to a few countries – ideas, in our times, aim at nothing short of universal empire. The spirit of propagandism does not date from the French Revolution, nor even from the sixteenth century; from the very dawn of civilization, from the times when the minds of men began to evince symptoms of activity, this phenomenon is apparent, and in a very striking manner. In the agitated Europe of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we behold the Europe of the nineteenth century, just as the imperfectly defined lineaments of the germ contain forms of the future being.
A great part of the sects which assailed the Church, dating from the tenth century, were decidedly revolutionary; they either proceeded from the fatal democracy which I have just mentioned, or derived their support from it. Unfortunately this democracy, restless, unjust and turbulent, having compromised the tranquillity of Europe in the centuries anterior to the sixteenth, found in Protestantism its most fervent propagators. Among the numerous sects into which the pretended reform was immediately divided, some opened the way for it, and others adopted it as their standard. And what must have been the result in the political organization of Europe? I will say it candidly: the disappearance of those political institutions which enabled the different classes of the state to take part in its affairs, was inevitable. Now, as it was very difficult for the European people, considering their character, ideas and customs, to submit for ever to their new condition, as their predominant inclination must have urged them to place bounds upon the extension of power, it was natural that revolutions should ensue; it was natural that future generations should have to witness great catastrophes, such as the English Revolution of the seventeenth century and the French Revolution of the eighteenth. There was a time when it might have been difficult to comprehend these truths; that time is past. The revolutions in which for some centuries the different nations of Europe have been successively involved, have brought within the reach of the least intelligent that social law so frequently realized, viz. that anarchy leads to despotism, and that despotism begets anarchy. Never, at any time, in any nation (history and experience prove the fact), have anti-social ideas been inculcated, the minds of the people been imbued with the spirit of insubordination and rebellion, without almost immediately provoking the application of the only remedy at the command of nations in such conflicts, the establishment of a very strong government, which justly or unjustly, legally or not, lifts up its iron arm over every one, and makes all heads bend under its yoke. To clamor and tumult succeeds the most profound silence; the people then easily become resigned to their new condition, for reflection and instinct teach them that although it is well to possess a certain amount of liberty, the first want of society is self-preservation.
What was the case in Germany, after the introduction of Protestantism by a succession of religious revolutions? Maxims destructive of all society were propagated, factions formed, insurrections took place; upon the field of battle and upon the scaffolds blood flowed in torrents; but no sooner did the instinct of social preservation begin to operate, than, instead of popular forms being established and taking root, every thing tended towards the opposite extreme. And was not this the country in which the people had been flattered by the prospect of unrestrained liberty, of a repartition and even a community of property; in fine, by the promise of the most absolute equality in every thing. Yet, in this same country, the most striking inequality prevailed, and the feudal aristocracy preserved its full force. In other countries, in which no such hopes of liberty and equality had been held out, we can scarcely discover the limits which separated the nobility from the people. In Germany, the nobility still retained their wealth and their preponderance, were still surrounded by titles, privileges, and distinctions of every description. In that very country, in which there were such outcries against the power of kings, in which the name of king was declared synonymous with tyrant, the most absolute monarchy was established; and the apostate of the Teutonic order founded that kingdom of Prussia, from which representative forms are still excluded.3 In Denmark, Protestantism was established, and with it absolute power immediately took deep root; in Sweden we find, at the very same time, the power of Gustavus established.
What was the case in England? Representative forms were not introduced into that country by Protestantism; they existed centuries before, as well as in other nations of Europe. But the monarch who founded the Anglican Church was distinguished for his despotism, and the Parliament, which ought to have restrained him, was most shamefully degraded. What idea can we form of the liberty of a country whose legislators and representatives debased themselves so far as to declare, that any one obtaining a knowledge of the illicit amours of the Queen is bound, under pain of high treason, to bring an accusation against her? What can we think of the liberty of a country, in which the very men who ought to defend that liberty, cringe with so much baseness to the unruly passions of the monarch, that they are not ashamed, in order to flatter the jealousy of the sovereign, to establish that any young female who should marry a king of England, should, under a pain of high treason, be compelled before her marriage to reveal any stain there might be on her virtue? Such ignominious enactments are certainly a stronger proof of abject servility than the declaration of that same Parliament, establishing that the mere will of the monarch should have the force of law. Representative forms preserved in that country at a time when they had disappeared from almost every other nation of Europe, were not, however, a guarantee against tyranny; for the English cannot assuredly boast of the liberty they enjoyed under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth. Perhaps in no country in Europe was less liberty enjoyed, in no country were the people more oppressed under popular forms, in no country did despotism prevail to a greater extent. If there be anything which can convince us of these truths, in case the facts already cited should be found insufficient, it is undoubtedly the efforts made by the English to acquire liberty. And if the efforts made to shake off the yoke of oppression are to be regarded as a sure sign of its galling effects, we are justified in thinking that the oppression under which England was groaning must have been very severe, since that country has passed through so long and terrible a revolution, in which so many tears and so much blood has been shed.
When we consider what has taken place in France, we remark that religious wars have always given an ascendency to royal power. After such long agitations, so many troubles and civil wars, we see the reign of Louis XIV., and we hear that proud monarch exclaim, "I am the state." We have here the most complete personification of the absolute power which always follows anarchy. Have the European nations had to complain of the unlimited power exercised by monarchs? have they had to regret that all the representative forms which could ensure their liberties perished under the ascendency of the throne? Let them blame Protestantism for it, which spreading the germs of anarchy all over Europe, created an imperious, urgent, and inevitable necessity for centralizing rule, for fortifying royal power: it was necessary to stop up every source from which dissolvent principles might flow, and to keep within narrow bounds all the elements which, by contact and vicinity, were ready to ignite and produce a fatal conflagration.
Every reflecting man will agree with me on this point. Considering the aggrandizement of absolute power, they will discover in it nothing but the realization of a fact already long ago everywhere observed. Assuredly, the monarchs of Europe cannot be compared, either by the fact of their origin or the character of their measures, to those despots who, under different titles, have usurped the command of society at the critical moment when it was near its dissolution; but it may be said with reason, that the unlimited extent of their power has been caused by a great social necessity, viz. that of one sole and forcible authority, without which the preservation of public order was impossible. We cannot without dismay take a view of Europe after the appearance of Protestantism. What frightful dissolution! What erroneous ideas! What relaxation of morals! What a multitude of sects! What animosity in men's minds! What rage, what ferocity! Violent disputes, interminable debates, accusations, recriminations without end; troubles, rebellion, intestine and foreign wars, sanguinary battles, and atrocious punishments. Such is the picture that Europe presents; such are the effects of this apple of discord thrown among men who are brethren. And what was sure to be the result of this confusion, of this retrograde movement, by which society seemed returning to violent means, to the tyranny of might over right? The result was sure to be what it has in fact been: the instinct of preservation, stronger than the passions and the frenzy of man, was sure to prevail; it suggested to Europe the only means of self-preservation; royal power, already in the ascendant, and verging towards its highest point, was sure to end by attaining it in reality; there to become isolated and completely separated from the people, and to impose silence on popular passions. What ought to have been effected by a wise direction of ideas, was accomplished by the force of a very powerful institution; the vigor of the sceptre had to neutralize the impulse given to society towards its ruin. If we consider attentively, we shall find that such is the meaning of the event of 1680 in Sweden, when that country was subjected to the fierce will of Charles XI.; such the meaning of the event of 1669 in Denmark, when that nation, wearied with anarchy, supplicated King Frederick III. to declare the monarchy hereditary and absolute, which he in fact did; such, in fine, is the meaning of what took place in Holland in 1747, and of the creation of an hereditary stadtholder. If we require more convincing examples, we have the despotism of Cromwell in England after such terrible revolutions, and that of Napoleon in France after the republic.37