beliefs, men interested in their success, and the different
sections of the public whom they address, reciprocally inspire
but little mistrust or disquiet; that the remembrance of ancient
dislikes, ancient animosity still lurk in many a heart, and may
break out afresh. It may be occasionally discerned, with all its
want of reflection and its harshness. However, take it
altogether, the spirit of antipathy and contest, which has so
long prevailed in the religious sphere, is becoming weaker and
less common.
{73}
Each creed is more occupied about itself than about others; more
anxious to impress the hearts that are inclined to its reception
or have received it, than quarrel with those who maintain their
own belief. This is the natural result of liberty, and the check
imposed on every belief by the civil power which sustains it. It
is also the most favourable condition for the very creeds
themselves, as obliging them to proceed directly towards their
true object, and prevents them from turning aside to alter or
lower themselves in despotism or rebellion.
The spirit of religion comes again into the world to conquer but
not to usurp. Religious creeds rise and increase together, at
once free and contented; free to elevate themselves, to elevate
souls to heaven, restrained by their mental liberty and by the
independence of the civil power. Let us honor the community in
the bosom of which such a sight is possible! It needs, it
absolutely needs that religion should step in to purify and
strengthen it; but religion can do her work there without
dishonor or sacrifice, and when she can, it becomes her bounden
duty to do so.
{74}
{75}
Essay III.
Catholicism, Protestantism, And Philosophy In France.
{76}
{77}
Catholicism, Protestantism, And Philosophy In France.
(_July_, 1838.)
It is of Catholicism and Protestantism, not of religion or even
Christianity in general, that I wish to speak.
I regret that I cannot find a word to suit me better than
_Philosophy_. The nature of things forbids it. But in order
to make myself at once and clearly understood, I hasten to say
that I here call _Philosophy_ every opinion which disclaims,
under whatever name or shape, any faith as restrictive of human
thought, and which leaves thought, in religious matters as in all
others, free to believe or not to believe, and guide itself by
its own authority.
It is also of France, and France alone, that I speak. The
condition of Catholicism, Protestantism, and Philosophy is not
the same in France and elsewhere, after our moral and social
revolutions, as it is in countries which have not undergone such
changes. I wish to say nothing but that which results from and
applies to precise facts. The time has arrived in such matters
for dealing with real facts, and setting aside general terms
which avoid the questions they affect to settle.
{78}
I am convinced that Catholicism, Protestantism, and Philosophy,
in the bosom of the novel state of society in France under the
Charter, can live peaceably, both as regards themselves and
society; in peace not only material but moral, not only
obligatory but voluntary,--without submission, without
abasement,--both with truth and with honor.
I wish to prove it.
I repeat my first position. This peace must be established; it is
necessary.
Look at the state of things.
Catholicism, Protestantism, Philosophy, and modern French society
can neither destroy one another, nor change nor remodel
themselves as they wish.
They are facts, old, powerful, living, and indestructible from
the remotest times. They have resisted the longest and most
severe trials, ages of order and days of chaos.
For ages has new France, the France of the Charter, been forming
itself and increasing. Every thing has opposed it, yet everything
has contributed to its triumph, the church, nobility, royalty,
the court, the greatness of Louis XIV., the inactivity of Louis
XV., the wars of the empire, the peace after the restoration. She
has surmounted even her own faults, as well as the efforts of her
enemies.
{79}
Catholicism was born at the same time and in the same cradle as
modern Europe. It has associated itself with all the labours of
European civilization. It has survived all its transformations.
In our own days it has sustained the most terrible shock that has
ever been encountered by a creed and a church. It has been raised
up again by the hands of the very destroyers themselves. It
appears again. Enter the family circle, traverse the country,
then will be seen what the power of Catholicism is, in spite of
the lukewarmness of many of the faithful members--even of many of
the priests.
The lot of Protestantism in France has been hard. It has had
against it the king and the people, the literati of the
seventeenth, the philosophers of the eighteenth century; at one
time it appeared as if extirpated by Catholicism, at another as
absorbed by philosophy. It has yielded neither to persecution nor
ridicule. It still exists, and is no sooner restored to liberty
than it exhibits all its ancient fervour.
As for Philosophy, she has sustained many checks amidst her
triumphs. It is easy to set forth her follies and mistakes. She
has much to amend in what is past, but nothing to fear for the
future. Most of the principles which she proclaimed have become
rights. The rights have become facts. The new social condition to
which philosophy has given rise will not be more averse to her
than the old one which she has overcome.
These are all clearly powers full of life, and which a long
futurity awaits. They have struggled roughly but in vain. They
have been unable to destroy each other.
{80}
They will neither change or perish. No doubt they will modify
themselves according to their new position. They will listen to
reason. They will bow to necessity, but without renouncing their
principles or sacrificing their nature. They can make no such
concession. What characteristics and vitality they have must
remain. To renounce this would be to die.
Thus, without metamorphosis and as God and time have made them,
are these powers called to dwell side by side under the same
social roof.
What will happen if they do not live in peace, sincere peace?
Shall we again see the old wars which our fathers have seen?
War between Catholicism and Protestantism? Between religious
creeds and philosophy? Between the Church and the new-modelled
State? Shall we see a revival of every fanaticism, lay and
clerical, philosophic and religious?
It is not likely. Here and there, indeed, in books, in
newspapers, even in the gravest publications, hints are given of
such a restoration of things: attacks by Catholics on Protestant
impiety, by Protestants against popish idolatry, by devotees
against reason and its lights, by philosophers against faith and
the clergy. A war of words, often sincere, frequently cold,
always powerless. Doubtless, the old leaven of hatred and war,
deep laid in every human heart, still exists, but it will no more
arouse society. Customs as well as laws will prevent this. Even
the inclination will soon fail those most anxious for it.
{81}
The voices which still preach this strife, passionate, radical,
and mortal, either of Christian communities between themselves,
or of Philosophy against Christianity, are the voices of dying
men, already deserted on the battle-field where they persist in
staying. This is rather what will happen.
Living neither in peace nor at war, forced to admit vicinity
without friendship, and distrust without violence, Catholicism,
Protestantism, Philosophy, and in their train society in general,
will descend, grow cold, and languish. The dignity and power
which spring from truly moral communications will be equally
wanting in all. A dry and barren spirit will prevail in relations
which are purely official and matters of routine; and we should
see spreading and strengthening itself, becoming permanent and in
some sort legally consecrated, that spirit of indifference at the
same time disdainful yet subordinate, cold yet insecure. This is
the lot of societies which are kept together by the bond of
administrative regulations alone, void of moral life, that is, of
faith and devotion.
Was it then to arrive at this state of things, that for ages
human genius displayed itself so gloriously in our country? Was
it to end at last in this degradation that all the great creeds,
all the moral forces, have contended with so much eagerness and
glory for the empire of our society?
They must save it and themselves from this disgraceful peril.
They must accept, respect, and loyally serve the new social
state; they must learn to live amicably together in its bosom.
{82}
I say _they must!_ It is an immense point in a great work to
look upon success as indispensable and vital. The feeling of
necessity gives to those whom that necessity pleases, much power;
to the opposite party much resignation. A passionate desire
supports even more than it deceives. And here there is indeed
room for such a desire; for, during a long future, the honor and
moral repose of society are at stake. It cannot remain in this
state of apathy and uneasiness in which the mind languishes and
exhausts itself. Man desires for his soul more activity and more
security, a firmer ground, a higher flight. The true agreement of
the great intellectual powers can alone grant him these.
How can this be accomplished?
I grapple at once with the more notorious and serious of the
difficulties,--the nature of Catholicism and the conditions of
its agreement with the new state of society which has attacked
it, and been in its turn so roughly attacked.
I set aside, too, without hesitation, the questions of religion,
properly so called; questions which concern the dealings of God
with man, questions about the safety of the human soul.
Not that I look on them with indifference, or that their
importance is not now as it has always been, overwhelming and
immense. It ought, on the contrary, to be frequently repeated,
for in our day it has been too much forgotten, and it is the real
object, and substance, nay, the essence of religion. The moral
quality, the rule of conduct for man in his relations with man,
is important.
{83}
The mental calm and resignation of men in the trials of life is
important. The Christian religion teaches these, and thence its
great position upon earth and in society. But it does more, it
goes far beyond human society and this world. It binds man to
God, it reveals to him the secret of this awful tie, it teaches
him what he ought to believe and do in respect to his relation to
God and his prospect of eternity. Imperishable things from which
man may turn aside his gaze, but which do not disappear from his
nature; sublime wants from which he cannot free himself, though
he may mistake and deny them--the law of these things, the
satisfying of these wants, that is to say, the dogma and its
consequences, constitute the Christian religion, the first which
has really understood and embraced its object.
But in these questions and in the dogmas which reply to them,
nothing can now arouse between Catholicism and civil society
either conflict or embarrassment. In this matter, the State
proclaims not only the liberty but the right of the church, and
declares itself absolutely incompetent to interfere. And here
lies whatever truth exists in that deplorable and confused saying
which has excited so much comment, "_The law is
atheistical_." Surely not so. The law is not atheistical. How
should it be so? Is the law a real living being, a being with a
soul which approaches to or recedes from God, which may be lost
or saved? "Human societies," says M. Royer Collard, "live and die
on the earth, there they fulfil their destinies." But they do not
comprehend man as an entire.
{84}
After he has bound himself to society there still remains to him
the noblest part of himself, the high faculties by which he
raises himself to God, to a future life, to unknown good in an
invisible world. We, as individuals, as beings endowed with
immortality, have a different destiny from states.
And it is on this account that the State should not interfere
with that other destiny. As its nature and aim are different from
her own, as the two have nothing in common, to interfere must
produce confusion and usurpation.
That which the state now proclaims was taught to it by the
Church, the Catholic Church. During centuries when the state
wished to interfere in matters of opinion and salvation, did not
the Church distinctly reject such pretensions. And how did she do
so? By the distinction of temporal and spiritual, of terrestrial
and eternal life, that is, by the incompetence of the state to
deal with the relations of the soul with God.
And the Catholic Church was right in sustaining this principle,
the forgetfulness of which has cost her much. How did she lose a
portion of her empire? How came Henry VIII. amongst others to
separate from her? By proclaiming the temporal power competent to
matters of faith and salvation. Let Catholicism go back to the
sixteenth century, to the history of the reformation. It is by
the confusion of the two powers, by this religious competence of
the state, that she has suffered the rudest shocks.
{85}
The Catholic Church has no more dangerous enemies than lay
theologians, whether princes or doctors.
They are the more dangerous foes because religious motives are
not those which alone may animate them, and lay usurpations in
matters of faith have often served as a veil to the most worldly
interests. Had the religious incompetence of the state always
been acknowledged, the church would not so often have seen her
property as well as her power in danger or lost.
She has henceforth nothing similar to fear. Usurpation is on both
sides forbidden. Her kingdom belongs to herself alone; she
possesses it completely and securely.
On this side, the great side of Christian religion in this world,
peace is easy and may be sincere between Catholicism and the new
social state.
Let us see where the real difficulty exists.
The government of the Catholic Church is a power invested in her
own domain, and in matters of faith and salvation, with the
character of infallibility.
I put aside, great as they are, all secondary questions, such as
the knowledge of the conditions and limits in which infallibility
exists, to whom it belongs, to the Holy Seat or to Councils, or
to the Holy Seat and Councils united. I look to the one principle
which is found in every combination and form of Catholic belief.
The principle itself is founded on the perpetuity of divine
revelation, faithfully preserved in the church by means of
tradition, and renewed when needful by the inspiration of the
Holy Spirit, which ceases not to descend on the successor of St.
Peter who was placed at the head of the church by Jesus Christ
himself.
{86}
This is the essential and vital principle, the base and summit,
the Alpha and Omega of Catholicism.
Against a power of such a nature and origin, where it really
manifests itself, all discussion, resistance, and separation are
unlawful.
The new state of society and constitutional France has its
principle also, which has become that of its government.
All human power is fallible, and must be controlled and limited.
Every human society has the right of controlling and limiting,
directly and indirectly, in such and such measures, and under
such or such form, the power which it obeys.
I do not soften the problem. I set forth the two principles. They
are essentially different; they are said to be hostile.
They would be so indeed, could they meet and display themselves
in the same sphere. But here I find the remedy I sought.
When ages ago the church so loudly and vehemently insisted on the
distinction of the spiritual and temporal, she was acting in the
interest of her own dignity and founding her own liberty. She was
doing more. She thereby maintained the dignity of man, and laid
the foundations of liberty of conscience.
{87}
The separation of spiritual from temporal, the doctrine of the
church; and the separation of the religious and civil state, the
doctrine of our constitutional regime; the independence of
religious society in matters of faith, conquered by the church in
the earlier days of modern Europe; and liberty of conscience, a
victory achieved by modern society,--have one and the same
principle at the root. The application and form may be different,
the origin and moral signification entirely agree.
Hence the means of peace and harmony between Catholicism and our
new society.
Suppose that the two principles, the separation of spiritual and
temporal, of the religious and civil state, were (and it is
possible, since at the root they agree) sincerely and completely
allowed, respected and practised by church and state; whence
would the conflict spring?
The Catholic church would loudly maintain her infallibility in
the religious sphere, that is, as regards the connexion between
spiritual power and the faithful. The state would insist upon
liberty of conscience and thought in the social sphere, that is,
in the relations of the temporal power with the citizens. Each
power would advance according to its principles, parallel, and
without collision.
What then is the obstacle?
It is rather historical than reasonable. It arises from the
passed deeds and ancient life of the two powers, rather than from
their essential principles and actual relations.
{88}
The separation of the spiritual and temporal originates in the
chaos of the middle ages. It sprung from thence, as the sun
appears through a dark and stormy sky. Principles and powers,
ideas and situations, all have been in our Europe wonderfully
obscure, confused, incoherent, incomplete. There has long been a
depth of temporal affairs mixed with spiritual, spiritual with
temporal, in the existence and constitution of the church and
state. Hence the temptations and attempts, both frequent and
terrible, at reciprocal usurpation. The confusion of facts and
violence of passions struggled incessantly against the principle
which strove to restrain them.
That is the lot of truth here. It is boasted of but disdained,
invoked yet rejected, at once admitted and proscribed; here
supreme, there powerless. Man deserves no better, the world fares
no better than that.
However, after many efforts on certain memorable days some truth
does detach itself, and rises so high that she shines brightly
and commands respect.
The separation of the spiritual and temporal has had this
fortune. Church and state, bishops and philosophers, opinion and
law have contributed in turn to secure it for her. It is a
principle now so well established amongst us, that neither
persons nor things, neither mind nor art, could be kept long
clear from its influence.
Since the great ambitions which have disturbed the world be but
foolish pretensions, it behoves them carefully to avoid the last
risk they can run, that of becoming ridiculous squabbles.
{89}
Let the two powers, instead of painfully lowering themselves to
seize though but for a few days, some fragments from the past
confusion, admit fully both as regards right and deed their
mutual incompetence; let each establish itself firmly in its
special sphere, let each loudly proclaim its principle--the
Catholic church, its infallibility in religious orders; the
State, the liberty of thought in social concerns. Not only will
they then live in peace, but they will respect and serve
themselves really in spirit and in truth, and not in a
superficial appearance which is unworthy of both.
I say they will respect each other in spirit and in truth, and I
regret that I can but glance at the subject. Certainly, setting
aside all faith and law, the vital principle of Catholicism, the
religious infallibility of the church,--and the vital principle
of our civil society, the liberty of conscience and
thought,--have a right to the respect, the former of the boldest
thinkers, the latter of the most pious and the strictest minds.
But I have not room here to enter suitably on such a question; I
may attempt it some day.
As to the practical benefits of a true pacification to the
Catholic Church and to constitutional France, they are immense.
What is the prevailing ill of our temporal society?
{90}
The weakening of authority. I do not allude to that strength
which insists on being obeyed. Never had power greater command of
it; never perhaps so much. I allude to that authority recognized
beforehand on principle in a general way, received and felt as a
right which is not obliged to resort to force; that authority
before which the spirit bows without abasement of heart, and
which speaks from on high with the influence not of constraint,
but nevertheless of necessity.
That is truly authority. It is not the only principle of the
social state. It does not suffice for the government of men. But
without it nothing will suffice; neither argument unceasingly
persevered in, nor well-understood interest, nor the material
preponderance of numbers. Where authority is wanting, whatever
the force, obedience is precarious or mean, even near the extreme
of rebellion or of servility. Catholicism has the essence of
authority; it is authority itself, systematically conceived and
organised. It lays it down in principle, and puts it in practice
with great firmness of teaching, and a rare intelligence of human
nature.
Did this spirit prevail in our society, or did it lean towards
it, there would be need to seek elsewhere counterbalances and
limits. But the danger is clearly not there; and whilst our
institutions and manners cherish in us the spirit of individual
independence in thought as well as life, it is a great blessing
to society, to its morality as well as its repose, that other
causes, other methods of teaching maintain the principle of
authority and the spirit of internal submission.
"I learnt in the army what one learns no where else--respect;"
said an old retired non-commissioned officer of the Imperial
Guard, in 1820.
{91}
Catholicism is the greatest, the most holy school of respect that
the world has ever seen. France was brought up in this school, in
spite of the ill use which human passions have often made of her
precepts. The abuse is now little formidable; the benefit ought
to be great, for we have great need of it.
Catholicism itself is suffering at present from a grievous
malady.
This is the prevailing coldness and routine, the predominance of
form over foundation, of external practice over internal
feelings.
This arises from the often hypocritical incredulity of the
eighteenth century, not very distant from the nineteenth; and
also from the preponderance, which has long been excessive, in
the church, of the government over the vital principle, of
ecclesiastical authority over religious life.
Some analogy existed in this respect between the church and state
in the last century. On both sides power was afoot with its old
organization, in the hands of its former possessors; but amongst
the subjects there was little faith and little love.
What is it, nevertheless, that has saved Catholicism from
shipwreck? It is that it was a popular religion and faith. The
Catholic government yielded, the Catholic people survived. M. de
Monlosier was right; in our days, too, it was the cross of wood
which saved the world.
{92}
The safety is yet incomplete. The church has risen, but many a
soul languishes. Catholicism needs faith, a more inward and
lively faith.
It is the vague and ill-regulated feeling of this want, which has
for some time inspired those dreams of absolute independence, of
rupture between church and state, those shiverings of the fever
of democracy, which, under the name of M. l'Abbé de Lamennais,
have scandalised the faithful and made the indifferent smile.
Mad, shameful dreams which urge Catholicism to abjure her
principles and history, to hand herself over to the contagion of
modern evil and to dishonour while she destroys herself.