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.