CHAPTER LXVIII.

UNITY IN FAITH NOT ADVERSE TO POLITICAL LIBERTY.

The supposed incompatibility of unity in faith with political liberty

is an invention of the irreligious philosophy of the last century.

Whatever political opinions be adopted, it is of extreme importance

that we be on our guard against such a doctrine. We must not forget

that the Catholic religion occupies a sphere far above all forms of

government--she does not reject from her bosom either the citizen

of the United States, or the inhabitant of Russia, but embraces all

men with equal tenderness, commanding all to obey the legitimate

governments of their respective countries. She considers them all as

children of the same father, participators in the same redemption,

heirs to the same glory. It is very important to bear in mind that

irreligion allies itself to liberty or to despotism, according as

its interests incline; lavish of its applause when an infuriated

populace are burning temples and massacring the ministers of the

altar, it is ever ready to flatter monarchs, to exaggerate their

power beyond measure, whenever they win its favor by despoiling the

clergy, subverting discipline, and insulting the Pope. Caring little

what instruments it employs, provided it accomplishes its work, it

is royalist when in a position to sway the minds of kings, to expel

the Jesuits from France, from Spain, from Portugal, to pursue them to

the four quarters of the globe without allowing them either respite

or repose; liberal in the midst of popular assemblies that exact

sacrilegious oaths from the clergy, and send into exile or to the

scaffold the ministers of religion who remain faithful to their duty.

The man who cannot see that what I have advanced is strictly true,

must have forgotten history, and paid little attention to very recent

occurrences. With religion and morality, all forms of government are

good; without them, none can be good. An absolute monarch, imbued

with religious ideas, surrounded by counsellors of sound doctrines,

and reigning over a people amongst whom the same doctrines prevail,

may make his subjects happy, and will be sure to do so as far as

circumstances of time and place permit. A wicked monarch, or one

surrounded by wicked counsellors, will do mischief in proportion to

the extent of his powers; he will be even more to be dreaded than

revolution itself, because better able to arrange his plans, and to

carry them out more rapidly, with fewer obstacles, a greater appearance

of legality, more pretensions to public utility, and consequently

with more certainty of success and of permanent results. Revolutions

have undoubtedly done great injury to the Church; but persecuting

monarchs have done equally as much. A freak of Henry VIII. established

Protestantism in England; the cupidity of certain other princes

produced a like result in the nations of the north; and in our own

days, a decree of the Autocrat of Russia drives millions of souls into

schism. It follows that an unmixed monarchy, if it be not religious, is

not desirable; for irreligion, immoral in its nature, naturally tends

to injustice, and consequently to tyranny. If irreligion be seated

on an absolute throne, or if she hold possession of the mind of its

occupant, her powers are unlimited; and, for my part, I know nothing

more horrible than the omnipotence of wickedness.

In recent times, European democracy has signalized itself lamentably

by its attacks upon religion; a circumstance which, far from favoring

its cause, has injured it extremely. We can indeed form an idea of a

government more or less free, when society is virtuous, moral, and

religious; but not when these conditions are wanting. In the latter

case, the only form of government that remains is despotism, the rule

of force, for force alone can govern men who are without conscience

and without God. If we attentively consider the points of difference

between the revolution of the United States and that of France, we

shall find that one of the principal points of difference consists

in this, that the American revolution was essentially democratic,

that of France essentially impious. In the manifestos by which the

former was inaugurated, the name of God, of Providence, is every where

seen; the men engaged in the perilous enterprise of shaking off the

yoke of Great Britain, far from blaspheming the Almighty, invoke his

assistance, convinced that the cause of independence was the cause of

reason and of justice. The French began by deifying the leaders of

irreligion, overthrowing altars, watering with the blood of priests the

temples, the streets, and the scaffolds--the only emblem of revolution

recognized by the people is Atheism hand in hand with liberty. This

folly has borne its fruits--it communicated its fatal contagion to

other revolutions in recent times--the new order of things has been

inaugurated with sacrilegious crimes; and the proclamation of the

rights of man was begun by the profanation of the temples of Him from

whom all rights emanate.

Modern demagogues, it is true, have only imitated their predecessors

the Protestants, the Hussites, the Albigenses; with this difference,

however, that in our days irreligion has manifested itself openly, side

by side with its companion, the democracy of blood and baseness; whilst

the democracy of former times was allied with sectarian fanaticism.

The dissolving doctrines of Protestantism rendered a stronger power

necessary, precipitated the overthrow of ancient liberties, and obliged

authority to hold itself continually on the alert, and ready to strike.

When the influence of Catholicity had been enfeebled, the void had to

be filled up by a system of espionage and force. Do not forget this,

you who make war upon religion in the name of liberty; do not forget

that like causes produce like effects. Where moral influences do not

exist, their absence must be supplied by physical force: if you take

from the people the sweet yoke of religion, you leave governments no

other resource than the vigilance of police, and the force of bayonets.

Reflect, and choose. Before the advent of Protestantism, European

civilization, under the ægis of the Catholic religion, was evidently

tending towards that general harmony, the absence of which has

rendered necessary an excessive employment of force. Unity of faith

disappeared, opening the way to an unrestrained liberty of opinion and

religious discord; the influence of the clergy was in some countries

destroyed, in others weakened: thus was the equilibrium between

different classes put an end to, and the class naturally destined

to fill the office of mediator rendered powerless. By abridging the

power of the Popes, both people and governments were let loose from

that gentle curb which restrained without oppressing, and corrected

without degrading; kings and people were arrayed against each other,

without any body of men possessed of authority to interpose between

them in case of a conflict; without a single judge, who, the friend

of both parties, and disinterested in the quarrel, might have settled

their differences with impartiality, governments began to place their

reliance upon standing armies, and the people upon insurrections.

And it is of no avail to allege that in countries where Catholicity

prevailed, a political phenomenon arose similar to that which we

observe in Protestant nations; for I maintain that amongst Catholics

themselves events did not follow the course which they naturally would

have followed, had not the fatal Reformation intervened. To attain

its complete development, European civilization required the unity

from which it had sprung; it could not by any other means establish

harmony amongst the diverse elements which it sheltered in its bosom.

Its homogeneity was gone the moment unity of faith disappeared. From

that hour no nation could adequately effect its organization without

taking into account, not only its own internal wants, but also the

principles that prevailed in other countries, against the influence of

which it had to be on its guard. Do you suppose, for instance, that the

policy of the Spanish government, constituted as it was the protector

of Catholicity against powerful Protestant nations, was not powerfully

influenced by the peculiar and very dangerous position of the country?

I think I have shown that the Church has never been opposed to the

legitimate development of any form of government; that she has taken

them all under her protection, and consequently that to assert that she

is the enemy of popular institutions is a calumny. I have also placed

it equally beyond a doubt, that the sects hostile to the Catholic

Church, by encouraging a democracy either irreligious or blinded

by fanaticism, so far from aiding in the establishment of just and

rational liberty, have, in fact, left the people no alternative between

unbridled licentiousness and unrestrained despotism. The lesson thus

furnished by history is confirmed by experience; and the future will

serve only to corroborate its truth. The more religious and moral men

are, the more deserving they are of liberty; for they have then less

need of external restraints, having a most powerful one in their own

consciences. An irreligious and immoral people stand in need of some

authority to keep them in order, otherwise they will be constantly

abusing their rights, and will consequently deserve to lose them. St.

Augustine perfectly understood these truths, and explains briefly and

beautifully the conditions necessary for all forms of government. The

holy Doctor shows that popular forms are good where the people are

moral and conscientious; where they are corrupt, they require either an

oligarchy or an unmixed monarchy.

I have no doubt that an interesting passage, in the form of a dialogue,

that we meet with in his first book on Free Will, chap. vi., will be

read with pleasure.

"_Augustine._ You would not maintain, for instance, that men or people

are so constituted by nature as to be absolutely eternal, and subject

neither to destruction nor change?--_Evodius._ Who can doubt that they

are changeable, and subject to the influence of time?--_Augustine._

If the people are serious and temperate; and if, moreover, they have

such a concern for the public good that each one would prefer the

public interest to his own, _is it not true that it would be advisable

to enact that such a people should choose their own authorities the

administration of their affairs?_--_Evodius._ Certainly.--_Augustine._

But, in case these same people become so corrupt that _the citizens

prefer their own to the public good; if they sell their votes; if,

corrupted by ambitious men, they intrust the government of the state

to men as criminal and corrupt as themselves_; is it not true that,

in such a case, if there be amongst them a man of integrity, and

possessing sufficient power for the purpose, he will do well to take

from these people the power of conferring honors, and concentrate it

in the hands of a small number of upright men, or even in the hands of

one man?--_Evodius._ Undoubtedly.--_Augustine._ Yet, since these laws

appear very much opposed to each other, the one granting the people the

right of conferring honors, the other depriving them of that right;

since, moreover, they cannot both be in force at once, _are we to

affirm that one of these laws is unjust, or that it should not have

been enacted?_--_Evodius._ By no means."[D]

[D] _Aug._ Quid ipsi homines et populi, ejusne generis rerum sunt,

ut interire mutarive non possint, æternique omnino sint?--_Evod._

Mutabile plane atque tempori obnoxium hoc genus esse quis

dubitet?--_Aug._ Ergo, si populus sit bene moderatus et gravis,

communisque utilitatis diligentissimus custos, in quo unusquisque

minoris rem privatam quam publicam pendat, nonne recte lex fertur, qua

huic ipsi populo liceat creare sibi magistratus, per quos sua res, id

est publica, administretur?--_Evod._ Recte prorsus.--_Aug._ Porro, si

paulatim depravatus idem populus rem privatam reipublicæ præferat,

atque habeat venale suffragium, corruptusque ab eis qui honores

amant, regimen in se flagitiosis consceleratisque committat, nonne

item recte, si quis tunc extiterit vir bonus, qui plurimum possit,

adimat huic populo potestatem dandi honores, et in paucorum bonorum

vel etiam unius redigat arbitrium?--_Evod._ Et id recte.--_Aug._ Cum

ergo duæ istæ leges ita sibi videantur esse contrariæ, ut una earum

honorum dandorum populo tribuat potestatem, auferat altera, et cum

ista secunda ita lata sit, ut nullo modo ambæ in una civitate simul

esse possint, num dicemus aliquam earum injustam esse et ferri minime

debuisse?--_Evod._ Nullo modo.

The whole question is here comprised in a few words: Can monarchy,

aristocracy, and democracy, be one and all legitimate and proper? Yes.

By what considerations are we to be guided in our decision as to which

of these forms is legitimate and proper in any given case? By the

consideration of existing rights, and of the condition of the people

to whom such form is to be applied. Can a form once good become bad?

Certainly it may; for all human things are subject to change. These

reflections, as solid as they are simple, will prevent all excessive

enthusiasm in favor of any particular form of government. This is not

a mere question of theory, but one of prudence also. Now, prudence

does not decide before having attentively considered and weighed all

circumstances. But there is one predominant idea in this doctrine of

St. Augustine: this idea I have already indicated, viz. that great

virtue and disinterestedness are required under a free government.

Those who are laboring to establish political liberty on the ruins of

all religious belief would do well to reflect upon the words of the

illustrious doctor.

How would you have people exercise extensive rights, if you disqualify

them by perverting their ideas and corrupting their morals? You say

that under representative forms of government reason and justice

are secured by means of elections; and yet you labor to banish this

reason and justice from the bosom of that society in which you talk of

securing them. You sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind; instead of

models of wisdom and prudence, you offer the people scandalous scenes.

Do not say that we are condemning the age, and that it progresses

in spite of us: we reject nothing that is good; but perversity and

corruption we must reprobate. The age progresses--true; but neither

you nor we know whither. Catholics know one thing--a thing which it

needs not a prophet to tell, viz. that a good social condition cannot

be formed out of bad men; that immoral men are bad; that where there

is no religion, morality cannot take root. Firm in our faith, we shall

leave you to try, if you choose, a thousand forms of government, to

apply your palliatives to your own social patient, to impose upon

him with deceitful words; his frequent convulsions--his continued

restlessness--are evidences of your incapacity; and well is it for your

patient that he still feels this anxiety: it is a sure sign that you

have not entirely succeeded in securing his confidence. If ever you do

secure it--if ever he fall asleep quietly in your arms--"all flesh will

then have corrupted its way;" and it may also be feared lest God should

resolve to sweep man from the face of the earth.

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