X. CAUSES OF THE CONTINUANCE OF PROTESTANTISM…

X. CAUSES OF THE CONTINUANCE OF PROTESTANTISM

After having clearly shown the intrinsic weakness of Protestantism, it is natural to ask this question: If it be so feeble, owing to the radical defects of its constitution, why has it not by this time completely disappeared? If it bear in its own breast the seeds of death, how has it been able so long to withstand such powerful adversaries, as Catholicity, on the one hand, and irreligion or Atheism, on the other? In order to resolve this question satisfactorily, it is necessary to consider Protestantism in two points of view; as embodying a fixed creed, and as expressing a number of sects, who, in spite of their numerous mutual differences, agree in calling themselves Christians, and preserve a shadow of Christianity, although they reject the authority of the Church. It is necessary to consider Protestantism in this double point of view, since its founders, while endeavoring to destroy the authority and dogmas of the Roman Church, were compelled to form a system of doctrines to serve as a symbol for their followers. Considered in the first aspect, it has almost entirely disappeared; we should rather say it scarcely ever had existence. This truth is sufficiently evident from what I have said of the variations and actual condition of Protestantism in the various countries of Europe; time has shown how much the pretended Reformers were deceived, when they fancied that they could fix the columns of Hercules of the human mind, to repeat the expression of Madame de Staël.

Who now defends the doctrines of Luther and Calvin? Who respects the limits which they prescribed? What Protestant Church distinguishes itself by the ardor of its zeal in preserving any particular dogmas? What Protestant now holds the divine mission of Luther, or believes the Pope to be Antichrist? Who watches over the purity of doctrine, and points out errors? Who opposes the torrent of sectarianism?

Do we find, in their writings, or in their discourses, the energetic tones of conviction, or the zeal of truth? In fine, what a wide difference do we find when we compare the Protestant Church with the Catholic! Inquire into the faith of the latter, and you will hear from the mouth of Gregory XVI., the successor of St. Peter, the same that Luther heard from Leo X. Compare the doctrine of Leo X. with that of his predecessors, you will always find it the same up to the Apostles, and to Jesus Christ himself. If you attempt to assail a dogma, if you try to attack the purity of morals, the voice of the ancient Fathers will denounce your errors, and in the middle of the nineteenth century you will imagine that the old Leos and Gregories are risen from the tomb. If your intentions are good, you will find indulgence; if your merits are great, you will be treated with respect; if you occupy an elevated position in the world, you will have attention paid to you. But if you attempt to abuse your talents by introducing novelty in doctrine; if, by your power, you aspire to demand a modification of faith; and if, to avoid troubles or prevent schism, or conciliate any one, you ask for a compromise or even an ambiguous explanation; the answer of the successor of St. Peter will be, "Never! faith is a sacred deposit which we cannot alter; truth is immutable; it is one:" and to this reply of the Vicar of Jesus Christ, which with a word will banish all your hopes, will be added those of the modern Athanasiuses, Gregories of Nazianzen, Ambroses, Jeromes, and Augustins. Always the same firmness in the same faith, the same unchangeableness, the same energy in preserving the sacred deposit intact, in defending it against the attacks of error, in teaching it to the faithful in all its purity, and in transmitting it unaltered to future generations. Will it be said that this is obstinacy, blindness, and fanaticism? But, eighteen centuries gone by, the revolutions of empires, the most fearful catastrophes, an infinite variety of ideas and manners, the most severe persecutions, the darkness of ignorance, the conflicts of passion, the lights of knowledge,--none of these have been able to enlighten this blindness, to bend this obstinacy, or extinguish this fanaticism. Certainly a reflecting Protestant, one of those who know how to rise above the prejudices of education, when fixing his eyes on this picture, the truth of which he cannot but acknowledge, if he is well informed on the question, will feel strong doubts arise within him as to the truth of the instruction he has received; he will at least feel a desire of examining more closely this great prodigy which the Catholic Church presents to us. But to return.

We see the Protestant sects melting away daily, and this dissolution must constantly increase; nevertheless, we have no reason to be astonished that Protestantism, inasmuch as it consists of a number of sects who preserve the name and some remains of Christianity, does not wholly disappear; for how could it disappear? Either Protestant nations must be completely swallowed up by irreligion or atheism, or they must give up Christianity and adopt one of the religions which are established in other parts of the world. Now both these suppositions are impossible; therefore this false form of Christianity has been and will be preserved, in some shape or other, until Protestants return to the bosom of the Church.

Let us develop these ideas. Why cannot Protestant nations be completely swallowed up by irreligion and atheism, or indifference? Because such a misfortune may happen to an individual, but not to a nation. By means of false books, erroneous reasonings, and continual efforts, some individuals may extinguish the lively sentiments of their hearts, stifle the voice of conscience, and trample under foot the dictates of common sense; but a nation cannot do so. A people always preserves a large fund of candor and docility, which, amid the most fatal errors and even the most atrocious crimes, compels it to lend an attentive ear to the inspirations of nature. Whatever may be the corruption of morals, whatever may be the errors of opinion, there will never be more than a small number of men found capable of struggling for a long time against themselves, in the attempt to eradicate from their hearts that fruitful germ of good feelings, that precious seed of virtuous thoughts, with which the beneficent hand of the Creator has enriched our souls. The conflagration of the passions, it is true, produces lamentable prostration, and sometimes terrible explosions; but when the fire is extinguished, man returns to himself, and his mind becomes again accessible to the voice of reason and virtue. An attentive study of society proves that the number of men is happily very small who are, as it were, steeled against truth and virtue; who reply with frivolous sophistry to the admonitions of good sense; who oppose with cold stoicism the sweetest and most generous inspirations of nature, and venture to display, as an illustration of philosophy, firmness, and elevation of mind, the ignorance, obstinacy, and barrenness of an icy heart. The generality of mankind, more simple, more candid, more natural, are consequently ill-suited to a system of atheism, or indifference. Such a system may take possession of the proud mind of a learned visionary; it may be adopted, as a convenient opinion, by dissipated youth; and in times of agitation, it may influence a few fiery spirits; but it will never be able to establish itself in society as a normal condition.

No, by no means. An individual may be irreligious, but families and society never will. Without a basis on which the social edifice must rest; without a great creative idea, whence will flow the ideas of reason, virtue, justice, obligation, and right, which are as necessary to the existence and preservation of society as blood and nourishment are to the life of the individual, society would be destroyed; without the sweet ties by which religious ideas unite together the members of a family, without the heavenly harmony which they infuse into all its connections, the family would cease to exist, or at least would be only a rude and transient union, resembling the intercourse of animals. God has happily gifted all his creatures with a marvellous instinct of self-preservation. Guided by that instinct, families and society repudiate with indignation those degrading ideas which, blasting by their fatal breath all the germs of life, breaking all ties, upsetting all laws, make both of them retrograde towards the most abject barbarism, and finish by scattering their members like dust before the wind.

The repeated lessons of experience ought to have convinced certain philosophers that these ideas and feelings, engraven on the heart of man by the finger of the Author of nature, cannot be eradicated by declamation or sophistry. If a few ephemeral triumphs have occasionally flattered their pride, and made them conceive false hopes of the result of their efforts, the course of events has soon shown them, that to pride themselves on these triumphs was to act like a man who, on account of having succeeded in infusing unnatural sentiments into the hearts of a few mothers, would flatter himself that he has banished maternal love from the world. Society (I do not mean the populace or the commonalty)--society will be religious, even at the risk of being superstitious; if it does not believe in reasonable things, it will in extravagant ones; and if it have not a divine religion, it will have a human one: to suppose the contrary, is to dream; to struggle against this tendency, is to struggle against an eternal law; to attempt to restrain it, is to attempt to restrain with a weak arm a body launched with an immense force--the arm will be destroyed, but the body will continue its course. Men may call this superstition, fanaticism, the result of error; but to talk thus can only serve to console them for their failure.

Since, then, religion is a real necessity, we have therein an explanation of the phenomenon which history and experience present to us, namely, that religion never wholly disappears, and that when changes take place, the two rival religions, during their struggles, more or less protracted, occupy successively the same ground. The consequence is, that Protestantism cannot entirely disappear unless another religion takes its place. Now, as in the actual state of civilization, no religion can replace it but the Catholic, it is evident that Protestant sects will continue to occupy, with more or less variation, the countries which they have gained.

Indeed, how is it possible, in the present state of civilization among Protestant nations, that the follies of the Koran, or the absurdities of idolatry, should have any chance of success among them? The spirit of Christianity circulates in the veins of modern society; its seal is set upon all legislation; its light is shed upon all branches of knowledge; its phraseology is found in all languages; its precepts regulate morals; habits and manners have assumed its form; the fine arts breathe its perfume, and all the monuments of genius are full of its inspirations. Christianity, in a word, pervades all parts of that great, varied, and fertile civilization, which is the glory of modern society. How then, is it possible for a religion entirely to disappear which possesses, with the most venerable antiquity, so many claims to gratitude, so many endearing ties, and so many glorious recollections? How could it give place, among Christian nations, to one of those religions which, at the first glance, show the finger of man, and indicate, as their distinctive mark, degradation and debasement? Although the essential principle of Protestantism saps the foundations of the Christian religion, although it disfigures its beauty, and lowers its sublimity, yet the remains which it preserves of Christianity, its idea of God, and its maxims of morality, raise it far above all the systems of philosophy, and all the other religions of the world.

If, then, Protestantism has preserved some shadow of the Christian religion, it was because, looking at the condition of the nations who took part in the schism, it was impossible for the Christian name wholly to disappear; and not on account of any principle of life contained in the bosom of the pretended Reformation. On the other hand, consider the efforts of politicians, the natural attachment of ministers to their own interests, the illusions of pride which flatter men with the freedom they will enjoy in the absence of all authority, the remains of old prejudices, the power of education, and such like causes, and you will find a complete solution of the question. Then you will no longer be surprised that Protestantism continues to retain possession of many of those countries where it unfortunately became deeply rooted.

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Chapter XI

THE POSITIVE DOCTRINES OF PROTESTANTISM REPUGNANT TO THE INSTINCT OF CIVILIZATION.

The best proof of the extreme weakness of Protestantism, considered as a body of doctrine, is the little influence which its positive doctrines have exercised in European civilization. I call its positive doctrines those which it attempts to establish as its own; and I distinguish them thus from its other doctrines, which I call negative, because they are nothing but the negation of authority. The latter found favor on account of their conformity with the inconstancy and changeableness of the human mind; but the others, which have not the same means of success, have all disappeared with their authors, and are now plunged in oblivion. The only part of Christianity which has been preserved among Protestants, is that which was necessary to prevent European civilization from losing among them its nature and character; and this is the reason why the doctrines which had too direct a tendency to alter the nature of this civilization have been repudiated, we should rather say, despised by it.

There is a circumstance here well worthy of attention, and which has not perhaps been noticed, viz. the fate of the doctrine held by the first reformers with respect to free-will. It is well known that one of the first and most important errors of Luther and Calvin consisted in denying free-will. We find this fatal doctrine professed in the works which they have left us. Does it not seem that this doctrine ought to have preserved its credit among the Protestants, and that they ought to have fiercely maintained it, since such is commonly the case with errors which serve as a nucleus in the formation of a sect? It seems, also, that Protestantism being widely spread, and deeply rooted in several countries of Europe, this fatalist doctrine ought to have exercised a strong influence on the legislation of Protestant nations. Wonderful as it is, such has not been the case; European moralists have despised it; legislation has not adopted it as a basis; civilization has not allowed itself to be directed by a principle which sapped all the foundations of morality, and which, if once applied to morals and laws, would have substituted for European civilization and dignity the barbarism and debasement of Mahometanism.

There is no doubt that this fatal doctrine has perverted some individuals; it has been adopted by sects more or less numerous; and it cannot be denied that it has affected the morality of some nations. But it is also certain, that, in the generality of the great human family, governments, tribunals, administration, legislation, science, and morals, have not listened to this horrible doctrine of Luther,--a doctrine which strips man of his free will, which makes God the author of sin, which charges the Creator with the responsibility of all the crimes of His creatures, and represents Him as a tyrant, by affirming that His precepts are impossible; a doctrine which monstrously confounds the ideas of good and evil, and removes all stimulus to good deeds, by teaching that faith is sufficient for salvation, and that all the good works of the just are only sins.

Public opinion, good sense, and morality here side with Catholicity. Those even who in theory embrace these fatal religious doctrines, usually reject them in practice; this is because Catholic instruction on these important points has made so deep an impression on them; because so strong an instinct of civilization has been communicated to European society by the Catholic religion. Thus the Church, by repudiating the destructive errors taught by Protestantism, preserved society from being debased by these fatalist doctrines. The Church formed a barrier against the despotism which is enthroned wherever the sense of dignity is lost; she was a fence against the demoralization which always spreads whenever men think themselves bound by blind necessity, as by an iron chain; she also freed the human mind from the state of abjection into which it falls whenever it thinks itself deprived of the government of its own conduct, and of the power of influencing the course of events. In condemning those errors of Luther, which were the bond of Protestantism at its birth, the Pope raised the alarm against an irruption of barbarism into the order of ideas; he saved morality, laws, public order, and society; the Vatican, by securing the noble sentiment of liberty in the sanctuary of conscience, preserved the dignity of man; by struggling against Protestant ideas, by defending the sacred deposit confided to it by its Divine Master, the Roman See became the tutelary divinity of future civilization.

Reflect on these great truths, understand them thoroughly, you who speak of religious disputes with cold indifference, with apparent mockery and pity, as if they were only scholastic puerilities. Nations do not live on bread alone; they live also on ideas, on maxims, which, converted into spiritual aliment, give them greatness, strength, and energy, or, on the contrary, weaken them, reduce them, and condemn them to stupidity. Look over the face of the globe, examine the periods of human history, compare times with times, and nations with nations, and you will see that the Church, by giving so much importance to the preservation of these transcendent truths, by accepting no compromise on this point, has understood and realized better than any other teacher, the elevated and salutary maxim, that truth ought to reign in the world; that on the order of ideas depends the order of events, and that when these great problems are called in question, the destinies of humanity are involved.

Let us recapitulate what we have said; the essential principle of Protestantism is one of destruction; this is the cause of its incessant variations, of its dissolution and annihilation. As a particular religion it no longer exists, for it has no peculiar faith, no positive character, no government, nothing that is essential to form an existence; Protestantism is only a negative. If there is any thing to be found in it of a positive nature, it is nothing more than vestiges and ruins; all is without force, without action, without the spirit of life. It cannot show an edifice raised by its own hands; it cannot, like Catholicity, stand in the midst of its vast works and say, "These are mine." Protestantism can only sit down on a heap of ruins, and say with truth, "I have made this pile."

As long as sectarian fanaticism lasted, as long as this flame, enkindled by furious declamation, was kept alive by unhappy circumstances, Protestantism showed a certain degree of force, which, although it was not the sign of vigorous life, at least indicated the convulsive energy of delirium. But that period has passed, the action of time has dispersed the elements that fed the flame, and none of the attempts which have been made to give to the Reformation the character of a work of God, have been able to conceal the fact that it was the work of human passions. Let us not be deceived by the efforts which are now being made; what is acting under our eyes is not living Protestantism, it is the operation of false philosophy, perhaps of policy, sometimes of sordid interest disguised under the name of policy. Every one knows how powerful Protestantism was in exciting disturbances and causing disunion. It is on this account that evil-minded men search in the bed of this exhausted torrent for some remains of its impure waters, and knowing them to contain a deadly poison, present them to the unsuspecting in a golden cup.

But it is in vain for weak man to struggle against the arm of the Almighty, God will not abandon His work. Notwithstanding all his attempts to deface the work of God, man cannot blot out the eternal characters which distinguish truth from error. Truth in itself is strong and robust: as it is the ensemble of the relations which unite things together, it is strongly connected with them, and cannot be separated either by the efforts of man or by the revolution of time. Error, on the contrary, the lying image of the great ties which bind together the compact mass of the universe, stretches over its usurped domain like those dead branches of the forest which, devoid of sap, afford neither freshness nor verdure, and only serve to impede the advance of the traveller.

Confiding men, do not allow yourselves to be seduced by brilliant appearances, pompous discourse, or false activity. Truth is open, modest, without suspicion, because it is pure and strong; error is hypocritical and ostentatious, because it is false and weak. Truth resembles a woman of real beauty, who, conscious of her charms, despises the affectation of ornament; error, on the contrary, paints and ornaments herself, because she is ugly, without expression, without grace, without dignity. Perhaps you may be pleased with its laborious activity. Know, then, that it has no strength but when it is the rallying cry of a faction; then, indeed, it is rapid in action and fertile in violent measures. It is like the meteor which explodes and vanishes, leaving behind it nothing but darkness, death, and destruction; truth, on the contrary, like the sun, sends forth its bright and steady beams, fertilizes with its genial warmth, and sheds on every side life, joy, and beauty.

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Chapter XII

THE EFFECTS WHICH THE INTRODUCTION OF PROTESTANTISM INTO SPAIN WOULD HAVE PRODUCED.

In order to judge of the real effect which the introduction of Protestant doctrines would have had in Spain, we shall do well, in the first place, to take a survey of the present state of religion in Europe. In spite of the confusion of ideas which is one of the prevailing characteristics of the age, it is undeniable that the spirit of infidelity and irreligion has lost much of its strength, and that where it still exists it has merged into indifference, instead of preserving its systematic form of the last century. With the lapse of time declamation ceases; men grow tired of continually repeating the same insulting language; their minds resist the intolerance and bad faith of sects; systems betray their emptiness, opinions their erroneousness, judgments their precipitation, and reasonings their want of exactitude. Time shows their counterfeit intentions, their deceptive statements, the littleness of their ideas, and the mischievousness of their projects; truth begins to recover its empire, things regain their real names, and, thanks to the new direction of the public mind, that which before was considered innocent and generous is now looked upon as criminal and vile. The deceitful masks are taken off, and falsehood is discovered surrounded by the discredit which ought always to have accompanied it.

Irreligious ideas, like all those which are prevalent in an advanced state of society, would not, and could not be confined to mere speculation; they invaded the domain of practice, and labored to gain the upper hand in all branches of administration and politics. But the revolution which they produced in society became fatal to themselves; for there is nothing which better exposes the faults and errors of a system, and undeceives men on the subject, than the touchstone of experience. There is in our minds a certain power of viewing an object under a variety of aspects, and an unfortunate aptitude for supporting the most extravagant proposition by a multitude of sophisms. In mere disputation, it is difficult for the most reasoning minds to keep clear of the snares of sophistry. But when we come to experience, it is otherwise; the mind is silent, and facts speak; and if the experience has been on a large scale, and applied to objects of great interest and importance, it is difficult for the most specious arguments to counteract the convincing eloquence of the result. Hence it is that a man of much experience obtains an instinct so sure and delicate, that when a system is but explained he can point out all its inconveniences. Inexperience, presumptuous and prejudiced, appeals to argument in support of its doctrines; but good sense, that precious and inestimable quality, shakes its head, shrugs its shoulders, and with a tranquil smile leaves its prediction to be tested by time.

It is not necessary now to insist on the practical results of those doctrines of which infidelity was the motto; we have said enough on that subject. Suffice it to say, that those same men who seem to belong to the last century by their principles, interests, recollections, or for other reasons, have been obliged to modify their doctrines, to limit their principles, to palliate their propositions, to cool the warmth and passion of their invectives; and when they wish to give a mark of their esteem and veneration for those writers who were the delight of their youth, they are compelled to declare "that those men were great philosophers, but philosophers of the cabinet;" as if in reality what they call the knowledge of the cabinet was not the most dangerous ignorance.

It is certain that these attempts have had the effect of throwing discredit on irreligion as a system. If people do not regard it with horror, at least they look upon it with mistrust. Irreligion has labored in all the branches of science, in the vain hope that the heavens would cease to relate the glories of God, that the earth would disown Him who laid its foundations, and that all nature would give testimony against the Lord who gave it existence and life. These same labors have banished the scandalous division which had begun between religion and science; so that the ancient accents of the man of Hus have again resounded, without dishonor to science, in the mouths of men in the nineteenth century; and what shall we say of the triumphs of religion in all that is noble, tender, and sublime on earth? How grand are the operations of Providence displayed therein! Admirable dispensation! The mysterious hand which governs the universe seems to hold in reserve for every great crisis of society an extraordinary man. At the proper moment this man presents himself; he advances, himself ignorant whither he is going, but he advances with a firm step towards the accomplishment of the high mission for which Providence has destined him.

Atheism was bathing France in a sea of tears and blood; an unknown man silently traverses the ocean. While the violence of the tempest rends the sails of his vessel, he listens attentively to the hurricane--he is lost in the contemplation of the majesty of the heavens. Wandering in the solitudes of America, he asks of the wonders of creation the name of their Author; the thunder on the confines of the desert, the low murmuring of the forests, and the beauties of nature answer him with canticles of love and harmony. The view of a solitary cross reveals to him mysterious secrets; the traces of an unknown missionary awaken important recollections which connect the new world with the old; a monument in ruins, the hut of a savage, excite in his mind thoughts which penetrate to the foundations of society and to the heart of man. Intoxicated with these spectacles, his mind full of sublime conceptions, and his heart inundated with the charms of so much beauty, this man returns to his native soil. What does he find there? The bloody traces of Atheism; the ruins and ashes of ancient temples devoured by the flames or destroyed by violence; the remains of a multitude of innocent victims, buried in the graves which formerly afforded an asylum to persecuted Christians. He observes, however, that something is in agitation; he sees that religion is about to redescend upon France, like consolation upon the unfortunate, or the breath of life upon a corpse. From that moment he hears on all sides a concert of celestial harmony; the inspirations of meditation and solitude revive and ferment in his great soul; transported out of himself, and ravished into ecstasy, he sings with a tongue of fire the glories of religion, he reveals the delicacy and beauty of the relations between religion and nature, and in surpassing language he points out to astonished men the mysterious golden chain which connects the heavens and the earth. That man was Chateaubriand.

It must, however, be confessed, that the confusion which has been introduced into ideas cannot be corrected in a short time, and that it is not easy to eradicate the deep traces of the ravages of irreligion. Men's minds, it is true, are tired of the irreligious system; society, which had lost its balance, is generally ill at ease; the family feels its ties relaxed, and individuals sigh after a ray of light, a drop of hope and consolation. But where shall the world find the remedy which is wanting? Will it follow the best road--the only road? Will it re-enter the fold of the Catholic Church? Alas! God alone knows the secrets of the future; He alone has clearly unfolded before His eyes the great events which are no doubt awaiting humanity. He alone knows what will be the result of that activity, of that energy, which again urges men to the examination of great political and religious questions; and He alone knows what, to future generations, will be the result of the triumphs obtained by religion, in the fine arts, in literature, in science, in politics, in all the operations carried on by the human mind.

As to us, carried away as we are by the rapid and precipitate course of revolution, hardly have we time to cast a fleeting glance upon the chaos in which our country is involved. What can we confidently predict? All that we can be sure of is, that we are in an age of disquietude, of agitation, of transition; that the multiplied examples and warnings of so many disappointed expectations, the fruits of fearful revolutions and unheard-of catastrophes, have everywhere thrown discredit upon irreligious and disorganizing doctrines, without having established the legitimate empire of true religion. Hearts sick of so many misfortunes are willingly open to hope; but minds are in a state of great uncertainty as to the future: perhaps they even anticipate a new series of calamities. Owing to revolutions, to the efforts of industry, to the activity and extension of commerce, to the progress and prodigious diffusion of printing, to scientific discoveries, to the ease, rapidity, and universality of communication, to the taste for travelling, to the dissolving action of Protestantism, of incredulity, and skepticism, the human mind certainly now presents one of the most singular phases of its history. Reason, imagination, and the heart are in a state of agitation, of movement, and of extraordinary development, and show us at the same time the most singular contrasts, the most ridiculous extravagances, and the most absurd contradictions. Observe the sciences, and you will no longer find those lengthened labors, that indefatigable patience, that calm and tranquil progress, which characterized these studies at other epochs; but you will find there a spirit of observation, and a tendency to place questions in that transcendental point of view where may be discovered the relations subsisting between them, the ties by which they are connected, and the way in which they throw light upon each other. Questions of religion, of politics, of legislation, of morals, of government, are all mingled, stand prominently forward, and give to the horizon of science a grandeur and immensity which it did not previously possess. This progress, this confusion, this chaos, if you like to call it so, is a fact which must be taken into account in studying the spirit of the age, in examining the religious condition of the time; for it is not the work of a single man, or the effect of accident; it is the result of a multitude of causes, the fruit of a great number of facts; it is an expression of the present state of intelligence; a symptom of strength and disease, an announcement of change and of transition, perhaps a sign of consolation, perhaps a presage of misfortune. And who has not observed the fertility of imagination and unbounded reach of thought in that literature, so various, so irregular, and so vague, but at the same time so rich in fine images, in delicate feeling, and in bold and generous thought? You may talk as much as you please of the debasement of science, of the falling off in study. You may speak in a tone of derision of the lights of the age, and turn with regret to ages more studious and more learned; there will be some exaggeration, truth and error, in all this, as there always is in declamation of this kind; but whatever may be the degree of utility belonging to the present labors of the human mind, never, perhaps, was there a time when it displayed more activity and energy, never was it agitated by a movement so general, so lively, so various, and never, perhaps, did it desire, with a more excusable curiosity and impatience, to raise a part of the veil which covers the boundless future. What will be able to govern elements so powerful and so opposite? What can calm this tempestuous sea? What will give the union, the connection, the consistency necessary to form, out of these repulsive and discordant elements, a whole compact and capable of resisting the action of time? Will this be done by Protestantism, with its fundamental principle which establishes and diffuses and sanctions the dissolving principle of private interpretation in matters of religion, and realizes this unhappy notion by circulating among all classes of society copies of the Bible?

Nations numerous, proud of their power, vain of their knowledge, rendered dissipated by pleasure, refined by luxury, continually exposed to the powerful influence of the press, and possessing means of communication which would have appeared fabulous to their ancestors; nations in whom all the violent passions have an object, all intrigues an existence, all corruptions a veil, all crimes a title, all errors an advocate, all interests a support; nations which, warned and deceived, still vacillate in a state of dreadful uncertainty between truth and falsehood; sometimes looking at the torch of truth as if they meant to be guided by its light, and then again seduced by an ignis fatuus; sometimes making an effort to rule the storm, and then abandoning themselves to its violence; modern nations show us a picture as extraordinary as it is interesting, where hopes, fears, prognostics, and conjectures have free scope, and nobody can pretend to predict with accuracy, and the wise man must await in silence the dénouement marked out in the secret decrees of God, where alone are clearly written the events of all time, and the future destinies of men.

But it may be easily understood that Protestantism, on account of its essentially dissolving nature, is incapable of producing any thing in morals or religion to increase the happiness of nations, for it is impossible for this happiness to exist as long as men's minds are at war on the most important questions which can occupy them.

When the observer, amid this chaos and obscurity, seeks for a ray of light to illuminate the world--for a powerful principle capable of putting an end to so much confusion and anarchy, and of bringing back men's minds to the path of truth, Catholicity immediately presents herself to him, as the only source of all these benefits. When we consider with what éclat and with what power Catholicity maintains herself against all the unprecedented attempts which are made to destroy her, our hearts are filled with hope and consolation; and we feel inclined to hail this divine religion, and to congratulate her on the new triumph which she is about to achieve on earth.

There was a time when Europe, inundated by a torrent of barbarians, saw at once overwhelmed all the monuments of ancient civilization and refinement. Legislators and their laws, the empire and its power and splendor, philosophers and the sciences, the arts and their chef-d'œuvres, all disappeared; and those immense regions, where had flourished all the civilization and refinement that had been gained during so many ages, were suddenly plunged into ignorance and barbarism. Nevertheless, the spark of light which had appeared to the world in Palestine, continued to shine amid the chaos: in vain did whirlwinds threaten to extinguish it; kept alive by the breath of the Eternal, it continued to shine. Ages rolled away, and it appeared with greater brilliancy; and when, perchance, the nations only expected a beam of light to guide them in the darkness, they found a resplendent sun, everywhere diffusing life and light: and who shall say that there is not reserved for her in the secrets of the Eternal, another triumph more difficult, but not less useful, not less brilliant? If in other times that religion instructed ignorance, civilized barbarism, polished rudeness, softened ferocity, and preserved society from being always the prey of the fiercest brutality and the most degrading stupidity, will it be less glorious for her to correct ideas, to harmonize and refine feelings, to establish the eternal principles of society, to curb the passions, to remove animosities, to remove excesses, to govern all minds and hearts? How honorable will it be to her, if, while regulating all things, and unceasingly stimulating all kinds of knowledge and improvement, she can inspire with a proper spirit of moderation that society which so many elements, devoid of central attraction, threaten every moment with dissolution and death!

It is not given to man to penetrate the future; but in the same way as the physical world would be broken up by a terrible catastrophe, if it were deprived for a moment of the fundamental principle which gives unity, order, and concert to the various movements of the system; in the same way, if society, full as it is of motion, of communication, and life, were not placed under the direction of a constant and universal regulating principle, we could not fix our eyes on the lot of future generations without the greatest alarm.

There is, however, a fact which is consoling in the highest degree, viz. the wonderful progress which Catholicity has made in different countries. It is gaining strength in France and Belgium: the obstinacy with which it is combated in the north of Europe shows how much it is feared. In England its progress has been recently so great that it would not be credited without the most irresistible evidence; and in the foreign missions it has shown an extent of enterprise and fruitfulness, worthy of the time of its greatest ascendency and power.

When other nations tend towards unity, shall we commit the gross mistake of adopting schism? at a time when other nations would be happy to find within their bosoms a vital principle capable of restoring the power which incredulity has destroyed, shall Spain, which preserves Catholicity, and alone possesses it full and complete, allow the germ of death to be introduced into her bosom, thereby rendering impossible the cure of her evils, or rather entailing on herself complete and certain ruin? Amid the moral regeneration towards which nations are advancing, seeking to quit the painful position in which they have been placed by irreligious doctrines, is it possible to overlook the immense advantage which Spain still preserves over most of them? Spain is one of those least affected by the gangrene of irreligion; she still preserves religious unity, that inestimable inheritance of a long line of ages. Is it possible to overlook the advantage of that unity if properly made use of, that unity which is mixed up with all our glories, which awakens such noble recollections, and which may be made so wonderful an instrument in the regeneration of social order?

If I am asked my opinion of the nearness of the danger, and if I think the present attempts of Protestants have any probability of success, I must draw a distinction in my reply. Protestantism is extremely weak, both on account of its own nature, and of its age and decaying condition. In endeavoring to introduce itself into Spain, it will have to contend with an adversary full of life and strength, and deeply rooted in the soil. This is the reason why I think that its direct action is not to be feared; and yet, if it should succeed in establishing itself in any part of our country, however limited may be its domain, it is sure to produce fearful results. It is evident that we shall then have in the midst of us a new apple of discord, and it is not difficult to foresee that collisions will frequently arise. Protestantism in Spain, besides its intrinsic weakness, will labor under the disadvantage of not finding its natural aliment. Hence it will be obliged to take advantage of any support that is offered; it will immediately become the point of reunion for the discontented; and although failing in its intended object, it will succeed in becoming the nucleus of new parties and the banner of factions. Scandal, strife, demoralization, troubles, and perhaps catastrophes,--such will be the immediate and infallible results of the introduction of Protestantism among us. On this point I appeal to the candid opinion of every man who is well acquainted with Spain. But this is not all: the question is enlarged, and acquires an incalculable importance, if we consider it with reference to foreign politics. What a lever will be afforded to foreigners for all kinds of attempts in our unhappy country! How gladly will those, who are perhaps on the look-out for such an aid, avail themselves of it!

There is in Europe a nation remarkable for her immense power, and worthy of respect on account of the great progress which she has made in the arts and sciences; a nation that holds in her hands powerful means of action in all parts of the world, and knows how to use them with wonderful discretion and sagacity. As that nation has taken the lead in modern times in passing through all the phases of political and religious revolution, and has seen, during fearful convulsions, the passions in all their nakedness, and crime in all its forms, she is better acquainted than all others with their causes.

Not misled by the vain names under which, at such periods, the lowest passions and the most sordid interests disguise themselves, she is too much on her guard to allow the troubles which have inundated other countries with tears and blood, to be easily excited within herself. Her internal peace is not disturbed by the agitation and heat of disputes; although she may expect to have to encounter, sooner or later, difficulties and embarrassments, she enjoys, in the mean time, the tranquillity which is secured to her by her constitution, her manners, her riches,--and, above all, by the ocean which surrounds her. Placed in so advantageous a position, that nation watches the progress of others, for the purpose of attaching them to her car by golden chains, if they are simple enough to listen to her flattery; at least she attempts to hinder their advance, when a noble independence is about to free them from her influence. Always attentive to her own aggrandizement, by means of commerce and the arts, and by a policy eminently mercantile, she hides her self-interest under all sorts of disguises; and although religion and politics, where she has to do with another people, are quite indifferent to her, she knows how to make an adroit use of these powerful arms, to make friends, to defeat her enemies, and to enclose all within the net of commerce, which she is always extending in all quarters of the world. Her sagacity must necessarily have perceived how much progress she will have made in adding Spain to the number of her colonies, when she has persuaded the Spanish people to fraternize with her in religion; not so much on account of the sympathy which such a fraternization would establish between them, as because she would find therein a sure method of stripping the Spanish people of that peculiar character and grave appearance which distinguishes them from all others, by depriving them of the only national and regenerative idea which remains to them after so many convulsions; from that moment, in truth, Spain, that proud nation, would be rendered accessible to all kinds of foreign impressions, docile and pliable in bending to all opinions, and subject to the interests of her astute protectors. Let it not be forgotten that there is no other nation that conceives her plans with so much foresight, prepares them with so much prudence, executes them with so much ability and perseverance. As she has remained since her great revolutions, that is, since the end of the seventeenth century, in a settled condition, and entirely free from the convulsions undergone since that time by other European nations, she has been able to follow a regular political system, both internal and external; and her politicians have been formed to the perfect science of government, by constantly inheriting the experience and views of their predecessors. Her statesmen well know how important it is to be prepared beforehand for every event. They deeply study what may aid or impede them in other nations. They go out of the sphere of politics: they penetrate to the heart of every nation over which they propose to extend their influence: they examine what are the conditions of its existence; what is its vital principle; what are the causes of the strength and energy of every people.

During the autumn of 1805, Pitt gave a dinner in the country to some of his friends. While thus engaged, a despatch was brought to him announcing the surrender of Mack at Ulm, with 40,000 men, and the march of Napoleon on Vienna. Pitt communicated the fatal news to his friends, who cried out, "All is lost; there is no longer any resource against him." "There is one still left," replied the minister, "if I can excite a national war in Europe; and that war must begin in Spain." "Yes, gentlemen," he added, "Spain will be the first country to commence the patriotic war which shall give liberty to Europe." Such was the importance attributed by this profound statesman to a national idea; he expected from it what the strength of all the governments could not effect, the downfall of Napoleon, and the liberation of Europe. But it not uncommonly happens that the march of events is such, that these same national ideas, which one time were the powerful auxiliaries of ambitious cabinets, become, at another, the greatest obstacles; and then, instead of encouraging, it becomes their interest to extinguish them. As the nature of this work will not allow me to enter into the details of politics, I must content myself with appealing to the judgment of those who have observed the line of conduct pursued by England during our war and revolution, since the death of Ferdinand VII. If we consider what the interests of that powerful nation require for the future, we may conjecture the part which she will take.

The means of saving a nation, by delivering it from interested protectors, and of securing her real independence, are to be found in great and generous ideas, deeply rooted in the people; in feelings engraved on their hearts by the action of time, by the influence of powerful institutions, by ancient manners and customs; in fine, in that unity of religious thought, which makes a whole people as one man. Then the past is united with the present, the present is connected with the future; then arises in the mind that enthusiasm which is the source of great deeds; then are found disinterestedness, energy, and constancy; because ideas are fixed and elevated, because hearts are great and generous.

It is not impossible that during one of the convulsions which disturb our unhappy country, men may arise amongst us blind enough to attempt to introduce the Protestant religion into Spain. We have had warnings enough to alarm us; we have not forgotten events which showed plainly enough how far some would sometimes have gone, if the great majority of the nation had not restrained them by their disapprobation. We do not dread the outrages of the reign of Henry VIII.; but what we do fear is, that advantage may be taken of a violent rupture with the Holy See, of the obstinacy and ambition of some ecclesiastics, of the pretext of establishing toleration in our country, or some other pretext, to attempt to introduce amongst us, in some shape or other, the doctrines of Protestantism. We certainly have no need of importing toleration from abroad; it already exists amongst us so fully, that no one is afraid of being disturbed on account of his religious opinions. What would be thus introduced and established in Spain, would be a new system of religion, provided with every thing necessary for gaining the upper hand; and for weakening, and, if possible, destroying Catholicity. Then would resound in our ears, with a force constantly increasing, the fierce declamation which we have heard for several years; the vain threatenings of a party who are delirious, because they are on the point of expiring. The aversion with which the nation regards the pretended Reformation, we have no doubt, would be looked upon as rebellion; the pastorals of bishops would be treated as insidious persuasions, and the fervent zeal of our priests as sedition; the unanimity of Catholics to preserve themselves from contagion would be denounced as a diabolical conspiracy, devised by intolerance and party spirit, and executed by ignorance and fanaticism. Amid the efforts of the one party, and the resistance of the other, we should see enacted, in a greater or less degree, the scenes of times gone by; and although the spirit of moderation, which is one of the characteristics of this age, would not allow the perpetration of excesses which have stained the annals of other nations, they would not be without imitators. We must not forget that, with respect to religion in Spain, we cannot calculate on the coldness and indifference which other nations would now display on a similar occasion. With the latter, religious feelings have lost much of their force, but in Spain they are still deep, lively, and energetic; and if they were to come into open and avowed opposition to each other, the shock would be violent and general. Although we have witnessed lamentable scandals, and even fearful catastrophes in religious matters, yet, up to this time, perverse intentions have been always concealed by a mask, more or less transparent. Sometimes the attack was made against a person charged with political machinations; sometimes against certain classes of citizens, who were accused of imaginary crimes. If, at times, the revolution exceeded its bounds, it was said that it was impossible to restrain it, and thus the vexations, the insults, the outrages heaped upon all that was most sacred upon earth, were only the inevitable results, and the work of a mob that nothing could restrain. There has always been more or less of disguise; but if the dogmas of Catholicity were attacked deliberately, and with sang froid; if the most important points of discipline were trodden under foot; if the most august mysteries were turned into ridicule, and the most holy ceremonies treated with public contempt; if church were raised against church, and pulpit against pulpit, what would be the result? It is certain that minds would be very much exasperated; and if, as might be feared, alarming explosions did not ensue, at least religious controversy would assume a character so violent that we should believe ourselves transferred to the sixteenth century.

It is a common thing among us for the principles which prevail in politics to be entirely opposed to those which rule in society; it may then easily happen that a religious principle, rejected by society, may find support among influential statesmen. We should then see reproduced, under more important circumstances, a phenomenon which we have witnessed for so many years, viz. governments attempting to alter the course of society by force. This is one of the principal differences between our revolution and those of other countries; it is, at the same time, a key which explains the greatest anomalies. Everywhere else revolutionary ideas took possession of society, and afterwards extended themselves to the sphere of politics; with us they first ruled in the political sphere, and afterwards strove to descend into the social sphere; society was far from being prepared for such innovations; this was the cause of shocks so violent and so frequent. It is on account of this want of harmony that the government of Spain exercises so little influence over the people; I mean by influence, that moral ascendency which does not require to be accompanied by the idea of force. There is no doubt that this is an evil, since it tends to weaken that authority which is indispensably necessary for all societies. But on more than one occasion it has been a great benefit. It is no slight advantage that in presence of a senseless and inconstant government there is found a society full of calmness and wisdom, and that that society pursues its quiet and majestic march, while the government is carried away by rashness. We may expect much from the right instinct of the Spanish nation, from her proverbial gravity, which so many misfortunes have only augmented, and from that fact, which teaches her so well how to discern the true path to happiness, by rendering her deaf to the insidious suggestions of those who seek to lead her astray. Although for so many years, owing to a fatal combination of circumstances, and a want of harmony between the social and political order, Spain has not been able to obtain a government which understands her feelings and instincts, follows her inclinations, and promotes her prosperity, we still cherish the hope that the day will come when from her own bosom, so fertile in future life, will come forth the harmony which she seeks, and the equilibrium which she has lost. In the mean time, it is of the highest importance that all men who have a Spanish heart in their breasts, and who do not wish to see the vitals of their country torn to pieces, should unite and act in concert to preserve her from the genius of evil. Their unanimity will prevent the seeds of perpetual discord from being scattered upon our soil, will ward off this additional calamity, and will preserve from destruction those precious germs, whence may arise, with renovated vigor, our civilization, which has been so much injured by disastrous events.

The soul is overwhelmed with painful apprehensions at the thought that a day may come when religious unity will be banished from among us; that unity which is identified with our habits, our customs, our manners, our laws; which guarded the cradle of our monarchy in the cavern of Covadonga, and which was the emblem on our standard during a struggle of eight centuries against the formidable crescent; that unity which developed and illustrated our civilization in times of the greatest difficulty; that unity which followed our terrible tercios, when they imposed silence upon Europe; which led our sailors when they discovered the new world, and guided them when they for the first time made the circuit of the globe; that unity which sustains our soldiers in their most heroic exploits, and which, at a recent period, gave the climax to their many glorious deeds in the downfall of Napoleon. You who condemn so rashly the work of ages; you who offer so many insults to the Spanish nation, and who treat as barbarism and ignorance the regulating principle of our civilization, do you know what it is you insult? Do you know what inspired the genius of Gonzalva, of Ferdinando Cortez, of the conqueror of Lepanto? Do not the shades of Garcilazo, of Herrara, of Ercilla, of Fray Luis de Leon, of Cervantes, of Lope de Vega, inspire you with any respect? Can you venture to break the tie which connects us with them, to make us the unworthy posterity of these great men? Do you wish to place an impassable barrier between their faith and ours, between their manners and ours, to make us destroy all our traditions, and to forget our most inspiring recollections? Do you wish to preserve the great and august monuments of our ancestors' piety among us only as a severe and eloquent reproach? Will you consent to see dried up the most abundant fountains to which we can have recourse to revive literature, to strengthen science, to reorganize legislation, to re-establish the spirit of nationality, to restore our glory, and replace this nation in the high position which her virtues merit, by restoring to her the peace and happiness which she seeks with so much anxiety, and which her heart requires?

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Chapter XIII

CATHOLICITY AND PROTESTANTISM IN RELATION TO SOCIAL PROGRESS. PRELIMINARY COUP D'ŒIL.

After having placed Catholicity and Protestantism in contrast, in a religious point of view, in the picture which I have just drawn; after having shown the superiority of the one over the other, not only in certainty, but also in all that regards the instincts, the feelings, the ideas, the characteristics of the human mind, it seems to me proper to approach another question, certainly not less important, but much less understood, and in the examination of which we shall have to contend against strong antipathies, and to dissipate many prejudices and errors. Amid the difficulties by which the question that I am about to undertake is surrounded, I am supported by a strong hope that the interest of the subject, and its analogy with the scientific taste of the age, will invite a perusal; and that I shall thereby avoid the danger which commonly threatens those who write in favor of the Catholic religion, that of being judged without being heard. The question may be stated thus: "When we compare Catholicity and Protestantism, which do we find the most favorable to real liberty, to the real progress of nations, to the cause of civilization?" Liberty! This is one of those words which are as generally employed as they are little understood; words which, because they contain a certain vague idea, easily perceived, present the deceptive appearance of perfect clearness, while, on account of the multitude and variety of objects to which they apply, they are susceptible of a variety of meanings, and, consequently, are extremely difficult to comprehend. Who can reckon the number of applications made of the word liberty? There is always found in this word a certain radical idea, but the modifications and graduations to which the idea is subject are infinite. The air circulates with liberty; we move the soil around the plant, to enable it to grow and increase with liberty; we clean out the bed of a stream to allow it to flow with liberty; when we set free a fish in a net, or a bird in a cage, we give them their liberty; we treat a friend with freedom; we have free methods, free thoughts, free expressions, free successions, free will, free actions; a prisoner has no liberty; nor have boys, girls, or married people; a man behaves with greater freedom in a foreign country; soldiers are not free; there are men free from conscription, from contributions; we have free votes, free acknowledgments, free interpretation, free evidence; freedom of commerce, of instruction, of the press, of conscience; civil freedom, and political freedom; we have freedom just, unjust, rational, irrational, moderate, excessive, limited, licentious, seasonable, unseasonable. But I need not pursue the endless enumeration. It seemed to me necessary to dwell upon it for a moment, even at the risk of fatiguing the reader; perhaps the remembrance of all this may serve to engrave deeply on our minds the truth, that when, in conversation, in writing, in public discussions, in laws, this word is so frequently employed as applied to objects of the highest importance, it is necessary to consider maturely the number and nature of the ideas which it embraces in the particular case, the meaning that the subject needs, the modifications which the circumstances require, and the precaution demanded in the case.

Whatever may be the acceptation in which the word liberty is taken, it is apparent that it always implies the absence of a cause restraining the exercise of a power. Hence it follows that, in order to fix in each case the real meaning of the word, it is indispensable to pay attention to the circumstances as well as to the nature of the power, the exercise of which is to be prevented or limited, without losing sight of the various objects to which it applies, the conditions of its exercise, as also the character, power, and extent of the means which are employed to restrain it. To explain this matter, let it be proposed to form a judgment on the proposition, "Man ought to enjoy liberty of thought."

It is here affirmed that freedom of thought in man ought not to be restrained; but do you speak of physical force exercised directly on thought itself? In that case the proposition is entirely vain; for as such an application of force is impossible, it is useless to say that it ought not to be employed. Do you mean to say that it is not allowable to restrain the expression of thought; that is to say, that the liberty of manifesting thought ought not to be hindered or restrained? You have, then, made a great step, you have placed the question on a different footing. Or if you do not mean to say that every man, at all times, in all places, and on all subjects, has a right to give utterance to all that comes into his head, and that in any way he may think proper, you must then specify the things, the persons, the places, the times, the subjects, the conditions; in short, you must note a variety of circumstances, you must prohibit altogether in some cases, limit in others, bind in some, loosen in others; in fine, make so many restrictions, that you will make little progress in establishing your general principle of freedom of thought, which at first appeared so simple and so clear. Even in the sanctuary of thought, where human sight does not extend, and which is open to the eye of God alone, what means the liberty of thought? Is it owing to chance that laws are imposed on thought to which it is obliged to submit under pain of losing itself in chaos? Can it despise the rules of sound reason? Can it refuse to listen to the counsels of good sense? Can it forget that its object is truth? Can it disregard the eternal principles of morality? Thus we find, in examining the meaning of the word liberty, even as applied to what is certainly freer than any thing else in man, viz. thought--we find such a number and variety of meanings that we are forced to make many distinctions, and necessity compels us to limit the general proposition, if we wish to avoid saying any thing in opposition to the dictates of reason and good sense, the eternal laws of morality, the interests of individuals, and the peace and preservation of society. And what may not be said of so many claims of liberty which are constantly propounded in language intentionally vague and equivocal?

I avail myself of these examples to prevent a confusion of ideas; for in defending the cause of Catholicity, I have no need of pleading for oppression, or of applauding tyranny, or of approving the conduct of those who have trodden under foot men's most sacred rights. Yes, I say, sacred; for after the august religion of Jesus Christ has been preached, man is sacred in the eyes of other men on account of his origin and divine destiny, on account of the image of God which is reflected in him, and because he has been redeemed with ineffable goodness and love by the Son of the Eternal. This divine religion declares the rights of man to be sacred; for its august Founder threatens with eternal punishment not only those who kill a man, those who mutilate or rob him, but even those who offend him in words: "He who shall say to his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire." (Matt. v. 22.) Thus speaks our divine Lord.

Our hearts swell with generous indignation, when we hear the religion of Jesus Christ reproached with a tendency towards oppression. It is true that, if you confound the spirit of real liberty with that of demagogues, you will not find it in Catholicity; but, if you avoid a monstrous misnomer, if you give to the word liberty its reasonable, just, useful, and beneficial signification, then the Catholic religion may fearlessly claim the gratitude of the human race, for she has civilized the nations who embraced her, and civilization is true liberty.

It is a fact now generally acknowledged, and openly confessed, that Christianity has exercised a very important and salutary influence on the development of European civilization; if this fact has not yet had given to it the importance which it deserves, it is because it has not been sufficiently appreciated. With respect to civilization, a distinction is sometimes made between the influence of Christianity and that of Catholicity; its merits are lavished on the former, and stinted to the latter, by those who forget that, with respect to European civilization, Catholicity can always claim the principal share; and, for many centuries, an exclusive one; since, during a very long period, she worked alone at the great work. People have not been willing to see that, when Protestantism appeared in Europe, the work was bordering on completion; with an injustice and ingratitude which I cannot describe, they have reproached Catholicity with the spirit of barbarism, ignorance, and oppression, while they were making an ostentatious display of the rich civilization, knowledge, and liberty, for which they were principally indebted to her.

If they did not wish to fathom the intimate connection between Catholicity and European civilization, if they had not the patience necessary for the long investigations into which this examination would lead them, at least it would have been proper to take a glance at the condition of countries where the Catholic religion has not exerted all her influence during centuries of trouble, and compare them with those in which she has been predominant. The East and the West, both subject to great revolutions, both professing Christianity, but in such a way that the Catholic principle was weak and vacillating in the East, while it was energetic and deeply rooted in the West; these, we say, would have afforded two very good points of comparison to estimate the value of Christianity without Catholicity, when the civilization and the existence of nations were at stake. In the West, the revolutions were multiplied and fearful; the chaos was at its height; and, nevertheless, out of chaos came light and life. Neither the barbarism of the nations who inundated those countries, and established themselves there, nor the furious assaults of Islamism, even in the days of its greatest power and enthusiasm, could succeed in destroying the germs of a rich and fertile civilization. In the East, on the contrary, all tended to old age and decay; nothing revived; and, under the blows of the power which was ineffectual against us, all was shaken to pieces. The spiritual power of Rome, and its influence on temporal affairs, have certainly borne fruits very different from those produced, under the same circumstances, by its violent opponents.

If Europe were destined one day again to undergo a general and fearful revolution, either by a universal spread of revolutionary ideas or by a violent invasion of social and proprietary rights by pauperism; if the colossus of the North, seated on its throne amid eternal snows, with knowledge in its head, and blind force in its hands, possessing at once the means of civilization, and unceasingly turning towards the East, the South, and the West that covetous and crafty look which in history is the characteristic march of all invading empires; if, availing itself of a favorable moment, it were to make an attempt on the independence of Europe, then we should perhaps have a proof of the value of the Catholic principle in a great extremity; then we should feel the power of the unity which is proclaimed and supported by Catholicity, and while calling to mind the middle ages, we should come to acknowledge one of the causes of the weakness of the East and the strength of the West. Then would be remembered a fact, which, though but of yesterday, is falling into oblivion, viz. that the nation whose heroic courage broke the power of Napoleon was proverbially Catholic; and who knows whether, in the attempts made in Russia against Catholicity, attempts which the Vicar of Jesus Christ has deplored in such touching language--who knows whether there be not the secret influence of a presentiment, perhaps even a foresight of the necessity of weakening that sublime power, which has been in all ages, when the cause of humanity was in question, the centre of great attempts? But let us return.

It cannot be denied that, since the sixteenth century, European civilization has shown life and brilliancy; but it is a mistake to attribute this phenomenon to Protestantism. In order to examine the extent and influence of a fact, we ought not to be content with the events which have followed it; it is also necessary to consider whether these events were already prepared; whether they are any thing more than the necessary result of anterior facts; and we must take care not to reason in a way which is justly declared to be sophistical by logicians, post hoc, ergo propter hoc: after that, therefore on account of it. Without Protestantism, and before it, European civilization was already very much advanced, thanks to the labors and influence of the Catholic religion; the greatness and splendor which it subsequently displayed were not owing to it, but arose in spite of it.

Erroneous ideas on this matter have arisen from the fact, that Christianity has not been deeply studied; and that, without entering into a serious examination of Church history, men have too often contented themselves with taking a superficial view of the principles of brotherhood which she has so much recommended. In order fully to understand an institution, it is not enough to remain satisfied with its leading ideas; it is necessary to follow all its steps, see how it realizes its ideas, and how it triumphs over the obstacles that oppose it. We shall never form a complete idea of an historical fact, unless we carefully study its history. Now the study of Church history in its relations with civilization, is still incomplete. It is not that ecclesiastical history has not been profoundly studied; but it may be said that since the spirit of social analysis has been developed, that history has not yet been made the subject of those admirable labors which have thrown so much light upon it in a critical and dogmatical point of view.

Another impediment to the complete comprehension of this matter is, that an exaggerated importance is given to the intentions of men, and the great march of events is too much neglected. The greatness of events is measured, and their nature judged of, by the immediate means which produces them, and the objects of the men whose actions are treated of; this is a very important error. The eye ought to range over a wider field; we ought to observe the successive development of ideas, the influence which they have exercised on events, the institutions which have sprung from them; but it is necessary to see all these things as they are in themselves, that is, on a large scale, without stopping to consider particular and isolated facts. It is an important truth, which ought to be deeply engraven on the mind, that when one of those great facts which change the lot of a considerable portion of the human race is developed, it is rarely understood by those who take part in it, and figure as the principal actors. The march of humanity is a grand drama; the parts are played by persons who pass by and disappear: man is very little; God alone is great. Neither the actors who figured on the scene in the ancient empires of the East, nor Alexander invading Asia and reducing numberless nations into servitude, nor the Romans subjugating the world, nor the barbarians overturning the empire and breaking it in pieces, nor the Mussulmen ruling Asia and Africa and menacing the independence of Europe, knew, or could know, that they were the instruments in the great designs whereof we admire the execution.

I mean to show from this, that when we have to do with Christian civilization, when we collect and analyze the facts which distinguish its march, it is not necessary, or even often proper, to suppose that the men who have contributed to it in the most remarkable manner understood, to the full extent, the results of their own efforts. It is glory enough for a man to be pointed out as the chosen instrument of Providence, without the necessity of attributing to him great ability or lofty ambition. It is enough to observe that a ray of light has descended from heaven and illumined his brow; it is of little importance whether he foresaw that this ray, by reflection, was destined to shed a brilliant light on future generations. Little men are commonly smaller than they think themselves, but great men are often greater than they imagine; if they do not know all their grandeur, it is because they are ignorant that they are the instruments of the high designs of Providence. Another observation which we ought always to have present in the study of these great events is, that we should not expect to find there a system, the connection and harmony of which are apparent at the first coup d'œil. We must expect to see some irregularities and objects of an unpleasant aspect; it is necessary to guard against the childish impatience of anticipating the time; it is indispensable to abandon that desire which we always have, in a greater or less degree, and which always urges us to seek every thing in conformity with our own ideas, and to see every thing advance in the way most pleasing to us.

Do you not see nature herself so varied, so rich, so grand, lavish her treasures in disorder, hide her inestimable precious stones and her most valuable veins of metal in masses of earth? See how she presents huge chains of mountains, inaccessible rocks, and fearful precipices, in contrast with her wide and smiling plains. Do you not observe this apparent disorder, this prodigality, in the midst of which numberless agents work, in secret concert, to produce the admirable whole which enchants our eyes and ravishes the lover of nature? So with society; the facts are dispersed, scattered here and there, frequently offering no appearance of order or concert; events succeed each other, act on each other, without the design being discovered; men unite, separate, co-operate, and contend, and nevertheless time, that indispensable agent in the production of great works, goes on, and all is accomplished according to the destinies marked out in the secrets of the Eternal.

This is the march of humanity; this is the rule for the philosophic study of history; this is the way to comprehend the influence of those productive ideas, of those powerful institutions, which from time to time appear among men to change the face of the earth. When in a study of this kind we discover acting at the bottom of things a productive idea, a powerful institution, the mind, far from being frightened at meeting with some irregularities, is inspired, on the contrary, with fresh courage; for it is a sure sign that the idea is full of truth, that the institution is fraught with life, when we see them pass through the chaos of ages, and come safe out of the frightful ordeals. Of what importance is it that certain men were not influenced by the idea, that they did not answer the object of the institution, if the latter has survived its revolutions, and the former has not been swallowed up in the stormy sea of the passions? To mention the weaknesses, the miseries, the faults, the crimes of men, is to make the most eloquent apology for the idea and the institution.

In viewing men in this way, we do not take them out of their proper places, and we do not require from them more than is reasonable. We see them enclosed in the deep bed of the great torrent of events, and we do not attribute to their intellects, or to their will, any thing that exceeds the sphere appointed for them; we do not, however, fail to appreciate in a proper manner the nature and the greatness of the works in which they take part, but we avoid giving to them an exaggerated importance, by honoring them with eulogiums which they do not deserve, or reproaching them unjustly. Times and circumstances are not monstrously confounded; the observer sees with calmness and sang froid the events which pass before his eyes; he speaks not of the empire of Charlemagne as he would of that of Napoleon, and is not hurried into bitter invectives against Gregory VII. because he did not adopt the same line of political conduct as Gregory XVI.

Observe that I do not ask from the philosophical historian an impassive indifference to good and evil, to justice and injustice; I do not claim indulgence for vice, nor would I refuse to virtue its eulogy. I have no sympathy with that school of historic fatalism, which would bring back to the world the destiny of the ancients; a school which, if it acquired influence, would corrupt the best part of history, and stifle the most generous emotions. I see in the march of society a plan, a harmony, but not a blind necessity; I do not believe that events are mingled up together indiscriminately in the dark urn of destiny, nor that fatalism holds the world enclosed in an iron circle. But I see a wonderful chain stretching over the course of centuries, a chain which does not fetter the movements of individuals or of nations, and which accommodates itself to the ebb and flow which are required by the nature of things; at its touch great thoughts arise in the minds of men: this golden chain is suspended by the hand of the Eternal, it is the work of infinite intelligence and ineffable love.

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Chapter XIV

DID THERE EXIST AT THE EPOCH WHEN CHRISTIANITY APPEARED ANY OTHER PRINCIPLE OF REGENERATION?

In what condition did Christianity find the world? This is a question which ought to fix all our attention, if we wish to appreciate correctly the blessings conferred by that divine religion on individuals and on society, if we are desirous of knowing the real character of Christian civilization. Certainly at the time when Christianity appeared, society presented a dark picture. Covered with fine appearances, but infected to the heart with a mortal malady, it presented an image of the most repugnant corruption, veiled by a brilliant garb of ostentation and opulence. Morality was without reality, manners without modesty, the passions without restraint, laws without authority, and religion without God. Ideas were at the mercy of prejudices, of religious fanaticism, and philosophical subtilties. Man was a profound mystery to himself; he did not know how to estimate his own dignity, for he reduced it to the level of brutes; and when he attempted to exaggerate its importance, he did not know how to confine it within the limits marked out by reason and nature: and it is well worthy of observation, that while a great part of the human race groaned in the most abject servitude, heroes, and even the most abominable monsters, were elevated to the rank of gods.

Such elements must, sooner or later, have produced social dissolution. Even if the violent irruption of the barbarians had not taken place, society must have been overturned sooner or later, for it did not possess a fertile idea, a consoling thought, or a beam of hope, to preserve it from ruin.

Idolatry had lost its strength; it was an expedient exhausted by time and by the gross abuse which the passions had made of it. Its fragile tissue once exposed to the dissolving influence of philosophical observation, idolatry was entirely disgraced; and if the rooted force of habit still exercised a mechanical influence on the minds of men, that influence was neither capable of re-establishing harmony in society, nor of producing that fiery enthusiasm which inspires great actions--enthusiasm which in virgin hearts may be excited by superstition the most irrational and absurd. To judge of them by the relaxation of morals, by the enervated weakness of character, by the effeminate luxury, by the complete abandonment to the most repulsive amusements and the most shameful pleasures, it is clear that religious ideas no longer possessed the majesty of the heroic age; no longer efficacious, they only exerted on men's minds a feeble influence, while they served in a lamentable manner as instruments of dissolution. Now it was impossible for it to be otherwise: nations who had obtained the high degree of cultivation of the Greeks and Romans; nations who had heard their great sages dispute on the grand questions of divinity and man, could not continue in the state of simplicity which was necessary to believe with good faith the intolerable absurdities of which Paganism is full; and whatever may have been the disposition of mind among the ignorant portion of the people, assuredly those who were raised above the common standard did not believe them--those who listened to philosophers as enlightened as Cicero, and who daily enjoyed the malicious railleries of their satirical poets.

If religion was impotent, was there not another means, viz. knowledge? Before we examine what was to be hoped from this, it is necessary to observe, that knowledge never founded a society, nor was it ever able to restore one that had lost its balance. In looking over the history of ancient times, we find at the head of some nations eminent men who, thanks to the magic influence which they exercised over others, dictated laws, corrected abuses, rectified ideas, reformed morals, and established a government on wise principles; thus securing, in a more or less satisfactory manner, the happiness and prosperity of those who were confided to their care. But we should be much mistaken if we imagined that these men proceeded according to what we call scientific combinations. Generally simple and rude, they acted according to the impulses of their generous hearts, only guided by the wisdom and good sense of the father of a family in the management of his domestic affairs: never did these men adopt for their rule the wretched subtilties which we call theories, the crude mass of ideas which we disguise under the pompous name of science. Were the most distinguished days of Greece those of Plato and Aristotle? The proud Romans, who conquered the world, certainly had not the extent and variety of knowledge of the Augustan age; and yet who would exchange the times or the men?

Modern times also can show important evidences of the sterility of science in creating social institutions; which is the more evident as the practical effects of the natural sciences are the more visible. It seems that in the latter sciences man has a power which he has not in the former; although, when the matter is fully examined, the difference does not appear so great as at the first view.

Let us briefly compare their respective results.

When man seeks to apply the knowledge which he has acquired of the great laws of nature, he finds himself compelled to pay respect to her; as, whatever might be his wishes, his weak arm could not cause any great bouleversement, he is obliged to make his attempts limited in extent, and the desire of success induces him to act in conformity with the laws which govern the bodies he has to do with. It is quite otherwise with the application made of the social sciences. There man is able to act directly and immediately on society itself, on its eternal foundations; he does not consider himself necessarily bound to make his attempts on a small scale, or to respect the eternal laws of society; he is able, on the contrary, to imagine those laws as he pleases, indulge in as many subtilties as he thinks proper, and bring about disasters which humanity laments. Let us remember the extravagances which have found favor, with respect to nature, in the schools of philosophy, ancient and modern, and we shall see what would have become of the admirable machine of the universe, if philosophers had had full power over it. Descartes said, "Give me matter and motion, and I will form a world!" He could not derange an atom in the system of the universe. Rousseau, in his turn, dreamed of placing society on a new basis, and he upset the social state. It must not be forgotten that science, properly so called, has little power in the organization of society: this ought to be remembered in modern times, when it boasts so much of its pretended fertility. It attributes to its own labors what is the fruit of the lapse of ages, of the instinctive law of nations, and sometimes of the inspirations of genius; now neither this instinct of nations nor genius at all resembles science.

But without pushing any further these general considerations, which are, nevertheless, very useful in leading us to a knowledge of man, what could be hoped from the false light of science which was preserved in the ruins of the ancient schools at the time we are speaking of? However limited the knowledge of the ancient philosophers, even the most distinguished, may have been on these subjects, we must allow that the names of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle command some degree of respect, and that amid their errors and mistakes they give us thoughts which are really worthy of their lofty genius. But when Christianity appeared, the germs of knowledge planted by them had been destroyed; dreams had taken the place of high and fruitful thoughts, the love of disputation had replaced that of wisdom, sophistry and subtilties had been substituted for mature judgment and severe reasoning. The ancient schools had been upset, others as sterile as they were strange had been formed out of their ruins; on all sides there appeared a swarm of sophists like the impure insects which announce the corruption of a dead body. The Church has preserved for us a very valuable means of judging of the science of that time, in the history of the early heresies. Without speaking of what therein deserves all our indignation, as, for example, their profound immorality, can we find any thing more empty, absurd, or pitiable?[14]

The Roman legislation, so praiseworthy for its justice and equity, its wisdom and prudence, and much as it deserves to be regarded as one of the most precious ornaments of ancient civilization, was yet incapable of preventing the dissolution with which society was threatened. Never did it owe its safety to jurisconsults; so great a work is beyond the sphere of action of jurisprudence. Let us suppose the laws as perfect as possible, jurisprudence carried to the highest point, jurisconsults animated by the purest feelings and guided by the most honest intentions, what would all this avail if the heart of society is corrupt, if moral principles have lost their force, if manners are in continual opposition with laws? Let us consider the picture of Roman manners such as their own historians have painted them; we shall not find even a reflection of the equity, justice, and good sense which made the Roman laws deserve the glorious name of written reason.

To give a proof of impartiality, I purposely omit the blemishes from which the Roman law was certainly not exempt, for I do not desire to be accused of wishing to lower every thing which is not the work of Christianity. Yet I must not pass over in silence the important fact, that it is by no means true that Christianity had no share in perfecting the jurisprudence of Rome; I do not mean merely during the period of the Christian emperors, which does not admit of a doubt, but even at a prior period. It is certain that some time before the coming of Jesus Christ the number of the Roman laws was very considerable, and that their study and arrangement already occupied the attention of many of the most illustrious men. We know from Suetonius (In Cæsar. c. 44) that Julius Cæsar had undertaken the extremely useful task of condensing into a small number of books those which were the most select and necessary among the immense collection of laws; a similar idea occurred to Cicero, who wrote a book on the methodical digest of the civil law (de jure civili in arte redigendo), as Aulus Gellius attests. (Noct. Att. lib. i. c. 22.) According to Tacitus, this work also occupied the attention of the Emperor Augustus. Certainly these projects show that legislation was not in its infancy; but it is not the less true that the Roman law, as we possess it, is in great part the product of later ages. Many of the most famous jurists, whose opinions form a considerable part of the law, lived long after the coming of Jesus Christ. As to the constitutions of the emperors, their very names remind us of the time when they were digested.

These facts being established, I shall observe that it does not follow that because the emperors and jurists were pagans, the Christian ideas had no influence on their works. The number of Christians was immense in all places; the cruelty alone with which they had been persecuted, the heroic courage which they had displayed in the face of torments and death, must have drawn upon them the attention of the whole world; and it is impossible that this should not have excited, among men of reflection, curiosity enough to examine what this new religion taught its proselytes. The reading of the apologies for Christianity already written in the first ages with so much force of reasoning and eloquence, the works of various kinds published by the early Fathers, the homilies of Bishops to their people, contain so much wisdom, breathe such a love for truth and justice, and proclaim so loudly the eternal principles of morality, that it was impossible for their influence not to be felt even by those who condemned the religion of Christ. When doctrines having for their object the greatest questions which affect man are spread everywhere, propagated with fervent zeal, received with love by a considerable number of disciples, and maintained by the talent and knowledge of illustrious men, these doctrines make a profound impression in all directions, and affect even those who warmly combat them. Their influence in this case is imperceptible, but it is not the less true and real. They act like the exhalations which impregnate the atmosphere; with the air we inhale sometimes death, and sometimes a salutary odor which purifies and strengthens us.

Such must necessarily have been the case with a doctrine which was preached in so extraordinary a manner, propagated with so much rapidity, and the truth of which, sealed by torrents of blood, was defended by writers such as Justin, Clement of Alexandria, Irenæus, and Tertullian. The profound wisdom, the ravishing beauty of these doctrines, explained by the Christian doctors, must have called attention to the sources whence they flowed; it was natural that curiosity thus excited should put the holy Scriptures into the hands of many philosophers and jurists. Would it be strange if Epictetus had imbibed some of the doctrines of the Sermon on the Mount, and if the oracles of jurisprudence had imperceptibly received the inspiration of a religion whose power, spreading in a wonderful manner, took possession of all ranks of society? Burning zeal for truth and justice, the spirit of brotherhood, grand ideas of the dignity of man, the continued themes of Christian instruction, could not remain confined among the children of the Church. More or less rapidly they penetrated all classes; and when, by the conversion of Constantine, they acquired political influence and imperial authority, it was only the repetition of an ordinary phenomenon; when a system has become very powerful in the social order, it ends by exerting an empire, or at least an influence, in the political.

I leave these observations to the judgment of thinking men with perfect confidence; I am sure that if they do not adopt them, at least they will not consider them unworthy of reflection. We live at a time fruitful in great events, and when important revolutions have taken place; therefore we are better able to understand the immense effects of indirect and slow influences, the powerful ascendency of ideas, and the irresistible force with which doctrines work their way.

To this want of vital principles capable of regenerating society, to all those elements of dissolution which society contained within itself, was joined another evil of no slight importance,--the vice of its political organization. The world being under the yoke of Rome, hundreds of nations differing in manners and customs were heaped together in confusion, like spoils on the field of battle, and constrained to form a factitious body, like trophies placed upon a spear. The unity of the government being violent, could not be advantageous; and moreover, as it was despotic, from the emperor down to the lowest proconsul, it will be seen that it could not produce any other result than the debasement and degradation of nations, and that it was impossible for them to display that elevation and energy of character which are the precious fruit of a feeling of self-dignity and love for national independence. If Rome had preserved her ancient manners, if she had retained in her bosom warriors as celebrated for the simplicity and austerity of their lives as for the renown of their victories, some of the qualities of the conquerors might have been communicated to the conquered, as a young and robust heart reanimates with its vigor a body attenuated by disease. Unfortunately such was not the case. The Fabiuses, the Camilluses, the Scipios, would not have acknowledged their unworthy posterity; Rome, the mistress of the world, like a slave, was trodden under the feet of monsters who mounted to the throne by perjury and violence, stained their sceptres with corruption and cruelty, and fell by the hands of assassins. The authority of the Senate and people had disappeared; only vain imitations of them were left, vestigia morientis libertatis, as Tacitus calls them, vestiges of expiring liberty; and this royal people, who formerly disposed of kingdoms, consulships, legions, and all, then thought only of two things, food and games,

"Qui dabat olim Imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se Continet, atque duas tantum res anxius optat, Panem et Circenses."--JUVENAL, Satire X.

At length, in the plenitude of time Christianity appeared; and without announcing any change in political forms, without intermeddling in the temporal and earthly, it brought to mankind a twofold salvation, by calling them to the path of eternal felicity, but at the same time bountifully supplying them with the only means of preservation from social dissolution, the germ of a regeneration slow and pacific, but grand, immense, and lasting, and secure from the revolutions of ages; and this preservative against social dissolution, this germ of invaluable improvements, was a pure and lofty doctrine, diffused among all mankind, without exception of age, sex, and condition, as the rain which falls like a mild dew on an arid and thirsty soil. No religion has ever equalled Christianity in knowledge of the hidden means of influencing man; none has ever, when doing so, paid so high a compliment to his dignity; and Christianity has always adopted the principle, that the first step in gaining possession of the whole man is that of gaining his mind; and that it is necessary, in order either to destroy evil or to effect good, to adopt intellectual means: thereby it has given a mortal blow to the systems of violence which prevailed before its existence; it has proclaimed the wholesome truth, that in influencing men, the weakest and most unworthy method is force; a fruitful and beneficial truth, which opened to humanity a new and happy future. Only since the Christian era do we find the lessons of the sublimest philosophy taught to all classes of the people, at all times and in all places. The loftiest truths relating to God and man, the rules of the purest morality, are not communicated to a chosen number of disciples in hidden and mysterious instructions; the philosophy of Christianity has been bolder; it has ventured to reveal to man the whole naked truth, and that in public, with a loud voice, and that generous boldness which is the inseparable companion of the truth. "That which I tell you in the dark, speak ye in the light; and that which you hear in the ear, preach ye upon the housetop." (Matt. x. 27.)

As soon as Christianity and Paganism met face to face, the superiority of the former was rendered palpable, not only by its doctrines themselves, but by the manner in which it propagated them. It might easily be imagined that a religion so wise and pure in its teachings, and which, in propagating them, addressed itself directly to the mind and heart, must quickly drive from its usurped dominion the religion of imposture and falsehood. And, indeed, what did Paganism do for the good of man? What moral truths did it teach? How did it check the corruption of manners? "As to morals," says St. Augustine, "why have not the gods chosen to take care of those of their adorers, and prevent their irregularities? As to the true God, it is with justice that He has neglected those who did not serve Him. But whence comes it that those gods, the prohibition of whose worship is complained of by ungrateful men, have not established laws to lead their adorers to virtue? Was it not reasonable that, as men undertook their mysteries and sacrifices, the gods, on their side, should undertake to regulate the manners and actions of men? It is replied, that no one is wicked but because he wishes to be so. Who doubts this? but the gods ought not on that account to conceal from their worshippers precepts that might serve to make them practise virtue. They were, on the contrary, under the obligation of publishing those precepts aloud, of admonishing and rebuking sinners by their prophets; of publicly threatening punishment to those who did evil, and promising rewards to those who did well. Was there ever heard, in the temples of the gods, a loud and generous voice teaching any thing of the kind?" (De Civit. lib. ii. c. 4.) The holy doctor afterwards paints a dark picture of the infamies and abominations which were committed in the spectacles and sacred games celebrated in honor of the gods--games and shows at which he had himself assisted in his youth; he continues thus: "Thence it comes that these divinities have taken no care to regulate the morals of the cities and nations who adore them, or to avert by their threats those dreadful evils which injure not only fields and vineyards, houses and properties, or the body which is subject to the mind, but the mind itself, the directress of the body, which was drenched with their iniquities. Or if it be pretended that they did make such menaces, let them be shown and proved to us. But let there not be alleged a few secret words whispered in the ears of a small number of persons, and which, with a great deal of mystery, were to teach virtue. It is necessary to point out, to name the places consecrated to the assemblies--not those in which were celebrated games with lascivious words and gestures; not those feasts called fuites, and which were solemnized with the most unbridled license; but the assemblies where the people were instructed in the precepts of the gods for the repression of avarice, moderating ambition, restraining immodesty; those where these unfortunate beings learn what Perseus desires them to know, when he says, in severe language, 'Learn, O unhappy mortals, the reason of things, what we are, why we come into the world, what we ought to do, how miserable is the term of our career, what bounds we ought to prescribe to ourselves in the pursuit of riches, what use we ought to make of them, what we owe to our neighbor, in fine, the obligations we owe to the rank we occupy among men.' Let them tell us in what places they have been accustomed to instruct the people in these things by order of the gods; let them show us these places, as we show them churches built for this purpose wherever the Christian religion has been established." (De Civit. lib. ii. c. 6.) This divine religion was too deeply acquainted with the heart of man ever to forget the weakness and inconstancy which characterize it; and hence it has ever been her invariable rule of conduct unceasingly to inculcate to him, with untiring patience, the salutary truths on which his temporal well-being and eternal happiness depend. Man easily forgets moral truths when he is not constantly reminded of them; or if they remain in his mind, they are there like sterile seeds, and do not fertilize his heart. It is good and highly salutary for parents constantly to communicate this instruction to their children, and that it should be made the principal object of private education; but it is necessary, moreover, that there should be a public ministry, never losing sight of it, diffusing it among all classes and ages, repairing the negligences of families, and reviving recollections and impressions which the passions and time constantly efface.

This system of constant preaching and instruction, practised at all times and in all places by the Catholic Church, is so important for the enlightenment and morality of nations, that it must be looked upon as a great good, that the first Protestants, in spite of their desire to destroy all the practices of the Church, have nevertheless preserved that of preaching. We need not be insensible on this account to the evils produced at certain times by the declamation of some factious or fanatical ministers; but as unity had been broken, as the people had been precipitated into the perilous paths of schism, we say that it must have been extremely useful for the preservation of the most important notions with respect to God and man and the fundamental maxims of morality, that such truths should be frequently explained to the people by men who had long studied them in the sacred Scriptures. No doubt the mortal blow given to the hierarchy by the Protestant system, and the degradation of the priesthood which was the consequence, have deprived its preachers of the sacred characteristics of the Holy Spirit; no doubt it is a great obstacle to the efficacy of their preachers, that they cannot present themselves as the anointed of the Lord, and that they are only, as an able writer has said, men clothed in black, who mount the pulpit every Sunday to speak reasonable things; but at least the people continue to hear some fragments of the excellent moral discourses contained in the sacred Scriptures, they have often before their eyes the edifying examples spread over the Old and New Testament, and, what is still more precious, they are reminded frequently of the events in the life of Jesus Christ,--of that admirable life, the model of all perfection, which, even when considered in a human point of view, is acknowledged by all to be the purest sanctity par excellence, the noblest code of morality that was ever seen, the realization of the finest beau idéal that philosophy in its loftiest thoughts has ever conceived under human form, and which poetry has ever imagined in its most brilliant dreams. This we say is useful and highly salutary; for it will always be salutary for nations to be nourished with the wholesome food of moral truths, and to be excited to virtue by such sublime examples.

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Chapter XV

DIFFICULTIES WHICH CHRISTIANITY HAD TO OVERCOME IN THE WORK OF SOCIAL REGENERATION.--OF SLAVERY.--COULD IT BE DESTROYED WITH MORE PROMPTNESS THAN IT WAS BY CHRISTIANITY?

Although the Church attached the greatest importance to the propagation of truth, although she was convinced that to destroy the shapeless mass of immorality and degradation that met her sight, her first care should be to expose error to the dissolving fire of true doctrines, she did not confine herself to this; but, descending to real life, and following a system full of wisdom and prudence, she acted in such a manner as to enable humanity to taste the precious fruit which the doctrines of Jesus Christ produce even in temporal things. The Church was not only a great and fruitful school; she was also a regenerative association; she did not diffuse her general doctrines by throwing them abroad at hazard, merely hoping that they would fructify with time; she developed them in all their relations, applied them to all subjects, inoculated laws and manners with them, and realized them in institutions which afforded silent but eloquent instructions to future generations. Nowhere was the dignity of man acknowledged, slavery reigned everywhere; degraded woman was dishonored by the corruption of manners, and debased by the tyranny of man. The feelings of humanity were trodden under foot, infants were abandoned, the sick and aged were neglected, barbarity and cruelty were carried to the highest pitch of atrocity in the prevailing laws of war; in fine, on the summit of the social edifice was seen an odious tyranny, sustained by military force, and looking down with an eye of contempt on the unfortunate nations that lay in fetters at its feet.

In such a state of things it certainly was no slight task to remove error, to reform and improve manners, abolish slavery, correct the vices of legislation, impose a check on power, and make it harmonize with the public interest, give new life to individuals, and reorganize family and society; and yet nothing less than this was done by the Church. Let us begin with slavery. This is a matter which is the more to be fathomed, as it is a question eminently calculated to excite our curiosity and affect our hearts. What abolished slavery among Christian nations? Was it Christianity? Was it Christianity alone, by its lofty ideas on human dignity, by its maxims and its spirit of fraternity and charity, and also by its prudent, gentle, and beneficent conduct? I trust I shall prove that it was. No one now ventures to doubt that the Church exercised a powerful influence on the abolition of slavery; this is a truth too clear and evident to be questioned. M. Guizot acknowledges the successful efforts with which the Church labored to improve the social condition. He says: "No one doubts that she struggled obstinately against the great vices of the social state; for example, against slavery." But, in the next line, and as if he were reluctant to establish without any restriction a fact which must necessarily excite in favor of the Catholic Church the sympathies of all humanity, he adds: "It has been often repeated that the abolition of slavery in the modern world was entirely due to Christianity. I believe that this is saying too much; slavery existed for a long time in the bosom of Christian society without exciting astonishment or much opposition." M. Guizot is much mistaken if he expects to prove that the abolition of slavery was not due exclusively to Christianity, by the mere representation that slavery existed for a long time amid Christian society. To proceed logically, he must first see whether the sudden abolition of it was possible, if the spirit of peace and order which animates the Church could allow her rashly to enter on an enterprise which, without gaining the desired object, might have convulsed the world. The number of slaves was immense; slavery was deeply rooted in laws, manners, ideas, and interests, individual and social; a fatal system, no doubt, but the eradication of which all at once it would have been rash to attempt, as its roots had penetrated deeply and spread widely in the bowels of the land.

In a census of Athens there were reckoned 20,000 citizens and 40,000 slaves; in the Peloponnesian war no less than 20,000 passed over to the enemy. This we learn from Thucydides. The same author tells us, that at Chio the number of slaves was very considerable, and that their defection, when they passed over to the Athenians, reduced their masters to great extremities. In general, the number of slaves was so very great everywhere that the public safety was often compromised thereby. Therefore it was necessary to take precautions to prevent their acting in concert. "It is necessary," says Plato (Dial. 6, de Leg.), "that slaves should not be of the same country, and that they should differ as much as possible in manners and desires; for experience has many times shown, in the frequent defections which have been witnessed, among the Messenians, and in other cities that had a great number of slaves of the same language, that great evils commonly result from it." Aristotle in his Government (b. i. c. 5) gives various rules as to the manner in which slaves ought to be treated; it is remarkable that he is of the same opinion as Plato, for he says: "That there should not be many slaves of the same country." He tells us in his Politics (b. ii. c. 7), "That the Thessalians were reduced to great embarrassments on account of the number of their Penestes, a sort of slaves; the same thing happened to the Spartans on account of the Helotes. The Penestes have often rebelled in Thessaly; and the Spartans, during their reverses, have been menaced by the plots of the Helotes." This was a difficulty which required the serious attention of politicians. They did not know how to prevent the inconveniences induced by this immense multitude of slaves. Aristotle laments the difficulty there was in finding the best way of treating them; and we see that it was the subject of grave cares; I will transcribe his own words: "In truth," he says, "the manner in which this class of men ought to be treated is a thing difficult and full of embarrassment; for if they are treated mildly, they become insolent, and wish to become equal to their masters; if they are treated harshly, they conceive hatred, and conspire."

At Rome, the multitude of slaves was such that when, at a certain period, it was proposed to give them a distinctive dress, the Senate opposed the measure, fearing that if they knew their own numbers the public safety would be endangered; and certainly this precaution was not vain, for already, a long time before, the slaves had caused great commotions in Italy. Plato, in support of the advice which I have just quoted, states, "That the slaves had frequently devastated Italy with piracy and robbery." In more recent times Spartacus, at the head of an army of slaves, was the terror of that country for some time, and engaged the best generals of Rome. The number of slaves had reached such an excess, that many masters reckoned them by hundreds. When the Prefect of Rome, Pedanius Secundus, was assassinated, four hundred slaves who belonged to him were put to death. (Tac. Ann. b. xiv.) Pudentila, the wife of Apulcius, had so many that she gave four hundred to her son. They became a matter of pomp, and the Romans vied with each other in their number. When asked this question, quod pascit servos, how many slaves does he keep, according to the expression of Juvenal (Sat. 3, v. 140), they wished to be able to show a great number. The thing had reached such a pass that, according to Pliny, the cortege of a family resembled an army.

It was not only in Greece and Italy that this abundance of slaves was found; at Tyre they arose against their masters, and, by their immense numbers, they were able to massacre them all. If we turn our eyes towards barbarous nations, without speaking of some the best known, we learn from Herodotus that the Scythians, on their return from Media, found their slaves in rebellion, and were compelled to abandon their country to them. Cæsar in his Commentaries (de Bello Gall. lib. vi.) bears witness to the multitude of slaves in Gaul. As their number was everywhere so considerable, it is clear that it was quite impossible to preach freedom to them without setting the world on fire. Unhappily we have, in modern times, the means of forming a comparison which, although on an infinitely smaller scale, will answer our purpose. In a colony where black slaves abound, who would venture to set them at liberty all at once? Now how much are the difficulties increased, what colossal dimensions does not the danger assume, when you have to do, not with a colony, but with the world? Their intellectual and moral condition rendered them incapable of turning such an advantage to their own benefit and that of society; in their debasement, urged on by the hatred and the desire of vengeance which ill-treatment had excited in their minds, they would have repeated, on a large scale, the bloody scenes with which they had already, in former times, stained the pages of history; and what would then have happened? Society, thus endangered, would have been put on its guard against principles favoring liberty; henceforth it would have regarded them with prejudice and suspicion, and the chains of servitude, instead of being loosened, would have been the more firmly riveted. Out of this immense mass of rude, savage men, set at liberty without preparation, it was impossible for social organization to arise; for social organization is not the creation of a moment, especially with such elements as these; and in this case, since it would have been necessary to choose between slavery and the annihilation of social order, the instinct of preservation, which animates society as well as all beings, would undoubtedly have brought about the continuation of slavery where it still existed, and its re-establishment where it had been destroyed. Those who complain that Christianity did not accomplish the work of abolishing slavery with sufficient promptitude, should remember that, even supposing a sudden or very rapid emancipation possible, and to say nothing of the bloody revolutions which would necessarily have been the result, the mere force of circumstances, by the insurmountable difficulties which it would have raised, would have rendered such a measure absolutely useless. Let us lay aside all social and political considerations, and apply ourselves to the economical question. First, it was necessary to change all the relations of property. The slaves played a principal part therein; they cultivated the land, and worked as mechanics; in a word, among them was distributed all that is called labor; and this distribution being made on the supposition of slavery, to take away this would have made a disruption, the ultimate consequences of which could not be estimated. I will suppose that violent spoliations had taken place, that a repartition or equalization of property had been attempted, that lands had been distributed to the emancipated, and that the richest proprietors had been compelled to hold the pickaxe and the plough; I will suppose all these absurdities and mad dreams to be realized, and I say that this would have been no remedy; for we must not forget that the production of the means of subsistence must be in proportion to the wants of those they are intended to support, and that this proportion would have been destroyed by the abolition of slavery. The production was regulated, not exactly according to the number of the individuals who then existed, but on the supposition that the majority were slaves; now we know that the wants of a freeman are greater than those of a slave.

If at the present time, after eighteen centuries, when ideas have been corrected, manners softened, laws ameliorated; when nations and governments have been taught by experience; when so many public establishments for the relief of indigence have been founded; when so many systems have been tried for the division of labor; when riches are distributed in a more equitable manner; if it is still so difficult to prevent a great number of men from becoming the victims of dreadful misery, if that is the terrible evil, which, like a fatal nightmare, torments society, and threatens its future, what would have been the effect of a universal emancipation, at the beginning of Christianity, at a time when slaves were not considered by the law as persons, but as things; when their conjugal union was not looked upon as a marriage; when their children were property, and subject to the same rules as the progeny of animals; when, in fine, the unhappy slave was ill-treated, tormented, sold, or put to death, according to the caprices of his master? Is it not evident that the cure of such evils was the work of ages? Do not humanity and political and social economy unanimously tell us this? If mad attempts had been made, the slaves themselves would have been the first to protest against them; they would have adhered to a servitude which at least secured to them food and shelter; they would have rejected a liberty which was inconsistent even with their existence. Such is the order of nature: man, above all, requires wherewith to live; and the means of subsistence being wanting, liberty itself would cease to please him. It is not necessary to allude to the individual examples of this, which we have in abundance; entire nations have given signal proofs of this truth. When misery is excessive, it is difficult for it not to bring with it degradation, stifle the most generous sentiments, and take away the magic of the words independence and liberty. "The common people," says Cæsar, speaking of the Gauls (lib. vi. de Bello Gall.), "are almost on a level with slaves; of themselves they venture nothing; their voice is of no avail. There are many of that class, who, loaded with debts and tributes, or oppressed by the powerful, give themselves up into servitude to the nobles, who exercise over those who have thus delivered themselves up the same rights as over slaves." Examples of the same kind are not wanting in modern times; we know that in China there is a great number of slaves whose servitude is owing entirely to the incapacity of themselves or their fathers to provide for their own subsistence.

These observations, which are supported by facts that no one can deny, evidently show that Christianity has displayed profound wisdom in proceeding with so much caution in the abolition of slavery.

It did all that was possible in favor of human liberty; if it did not advance more rapidly in the work, it was because it could not do so without compromitting the undertaking--without creating serious obstacles to the desired emancipation. Such is the result at which we arrive when we have thoroughly examined the charges made against some proceedings of the Church. We look into them by the light of reason, we compare them with the facts, and in the end we are convinced that the conduct blamed is perfectly in accordance with the dictates of the highest wisdom and the counsels of the soundest prudence. What, then, does M. Guizot mean, when, after having allowed that Christianity labored with earnestness for the abolition of slavery, he accuses it of having consented for a long time to its continuance? Is it logical thence to infer that it is not true that this immense benefit is due exclusively to Christianity? That slavery endured for a long time in presence of the Church is true; but it was always declining, and it only lasted as long as was necessary to realize the benefit without violence--without a shock--without compromitting its universality and its continuation. Moreover, we ought to subtract from the time of its continuance many ages, during which the Church was often proscribed, always regarded with aversion, and totally unable to exert a direct influence on the social organization. We ought also, to a great extent, to make exception of later times, as the Church had only begun to exert a direct and public influence, when the irruption of the northern barbarians took place, which, together with the corruption which infected the empire and spread in a frightful manner, produced such a perturbation, such a confused mass of languages, customs, manners, and laws, that it was almost impossible to make the regulating power produce salutary fruits. If, in later times, it has been difficult to destroy feudality; if there remain to this day, after ages of struggles, the remnants of that constitution; if the slave-trade, although limited to certain countries and circumstances, still merits the universal reprobation which is raised throughout the world against its infamy; how can we venture to express our astonishment--how can we venture to make it a reproach against the Church, that slavery continued some ages after she had proclaimed men's fraternity with each other, and their equality before God?

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Chapter XVI

IDEAS AND MANNERS OF ANTIQUITY WITH RESPECT TO SLAVERY.--THE CHURCH BEGINS BY IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF SLAVES.

Happily the Catholic Church was wiser than philosophers; she knew how to confer on humanity the benefit of emancipation, without injustice or revolution. She knew how to regenerate society, but not in rivers of blood. Let us see what was her conduct with respect to the abolition of slavery. Much has been already said of the spirit of love and fraternity which animates Christianity, and that is sufficient to show that its influence in this work must have been great. But perhaps sufficient care has not been taken in seeking the positive and practical means which the Church employed for this end. In the darkness of ages, in circumstances so complicated or various, will it be possible to discover any traces of the path pursued by the Catholic Church in accomplishing the destruction of that slavery under which a large portion of the human race groaned? Will it be possible to do any thing more than praise her Christian charity? Will it be possible to point out a plan, a system, and to prove the existence and development of it, not by referring to a few expressions, to elevated thoughts, generous sentiments, and the isolated actions of a few illustrious men, but by exhibiting positive facts, and historical documents, which show what were the esprit de corps and tendency of the Church? I believe that this may be done, and I have no doubt that I shall be able to do it, by availing myself of what is most convincing and decisive in the matter, viz. the monuments of ecclesiastical legislation.

In the first place, it will not be amiss to remember what I have already pointed out, viz. that when we have to do with the conduct, designs, and tendencies of the Church, it is by no means necessary to suppose that these designs were conceived in their fullest extent by the mind of any individual in particular, nor that the merit and all the prudence of that conduct was understood by those who took part in it. It is not even necessary to suppose that the first Christians understood all the force of the tendencies of Christianity with respect to the abolition of slavery. What requires to be shown is, that the result has been obtained by the doctrines and conduct of the Church, as with Catholics, (although they know how to esteem at their just value the merit and greatness of each man,) individuals, when the Church is concerned, disappear. Their thoughts and will are nothing; the spirit which animates, vivifies, and directs the Church, is not the spirit of man, but that of God himself. Those who belong not to our faith will employ other names; but at least we shall agree in this, that facts, considered in this way, above the mind and the will of individuals, preserve much better their real dimensions; and thus the great chain of events in the study of history remains unbroken. Let it be said that the conduct of the Church was inspired and directed by God; or that it was the result of instinct; that it was the development of a tendency contained in her doctrines; we will not now stay to consider the expressions which may be used by Catholics, or by philosophers; what we have to show is, that this instinct was noble and well-directed; that this tendency had a great object in view, and knew how to attain it.

The first thing that Christianity did for slaves, was to destroy the errors which opposed, not only their universal emancipation, but even the improvement of their condition; that is, the first force which she employed in the attack was, according to her custom, the force of ideas. This first step was the more necessary, as the same thing applies to all other evils, as well as to slavery; every social evil is always accompanied by some error which produces or foments it. There existed not only the oppression and degradation of a large portion of the human race, but, moreover, an accredited error, which tended more and more to lower that portion of humanity. According to this opinion, slaves were a mean race, far below the dignity of freemen: they were a race degraded by Jupiter himself, marked by a stamp of humiliation, and predestined to their state of abjection and debasement. A detestable doctrine, no doubt, and contradicted by the nature of man, by history and experience; but which, nevertheless, reckoned distinguished men among its defenders, and which we see proclaimed for ages, to the shame of humanity and the scandal of reason, until Christianity came to destroy it, by undertaking to vindicate the rights of man. Homer tells us (Odys. 17) that "Jupiter has deprived slaves of half the mind." We find in Plato a trace of the same doctrine, although he expresses himself, as he is accustomed to do, by the mouth of another; he ventures to advance the following: "It is said that, in the mind of slaves, there is nothing sound or complete; and that a prudent man ought not to trust that class of persons; which is equally attested by the wisest of our poets." Here Plato cites the above-quoted passage of Homer (Dial. 8, de Legibus). But it is in the Politics of Aristotle that we find this degrading doctrine in all its deformity and nakedness. Some have wished to excuse this philosopher, but in vain; his own words condemn him without appeal. In the first chapter of his work, he explains the constitution of the family, and attempts to state the relations of husband and wife, of master and slave; he states that, as the wife is by nature different from the husband, so is the slave from the master. These are his words: "Thus the woman and the slave are distinguished by nature itself." Let it not be said that this is an expression that escaped from the pen of the writer; it was stated with a full knowledge, and is a résumé of his theory. In the third chapter, where he continues to analyze the elements which compose the family, after having stated "that a complete family is formed of free persons and slaves," he alludes particularly to the latter, and begins by combating an opinion which he thinks too favorable to them: "There are some," he says, "who think that slavery is a thing out of the order of nature, since it is the law itself which makes some free and others slaves, while nature makes no distinction." Before combating this opinion, he explains the relations between master and slave, by using the comparison of artist and instrument, and that of the soul and body; he continues thus: "If we compare man to woman, we find that the first is superior, therefore he commands; the woman is inferior, therefore she obeys. The same thing ought to take place among all men. Thus it is that those among them who are as inferior with respect to others, as the body is with respect to the soul, and the animal to man; those whose powers principally consist in the use of the body, the only service that can be obtained from them, they are naturally slaves." We should imagine, at first sight, that the philosopher spoke only of idiots; his words would seem to indicate this; but we shall see, by the context, that such is not his intention. It is evident that if he spoke only of idiots, he would prove nothing against the opinion which he desires to combat; for the number of them is nothing with respect to the generality of men. If he spoke only of idiots, of what use would be a theory founded on so rare and monstrous an exception?

But we have no need of conjectures as to the real intention of the philosopher, he himself takes care to explain it to us, and tells us at the same time for what reason he ventures to make use of expressions which seem, at first, to place the matter on another level. His intention is nothing less than to attribute to nature the express design of producing men of two kinds; one born for slavery, the other for liberty. The passage is too important and too curious to be omitted. It is this: "Nature has taken care to create the bodies of free men different from those of slaves; the bodies of the latter are strong, and proper for the most necessary labors: those of freemen, on the contrary, well formed, although ill adapted for servile works, are proper for civil life, which consists in the management of things in war and peace. Nevertheless, the contrary often happens. To a free man is given the body of a slave; and to a slave the soul of a free man. There is no doubt that, if the bodies of some men were as much more perfect than others, as we see is the case in the image of the Gods, all the world would be of opinion that these men should be obeyed by those who had not the same beauty. If this is true in speaking of the body, it is still more so in speaking of the soul; although it is not so easy to see the beauty of the soul as that of the body. Thus it cannot be doubted that there are some men born for liberty, as others are for slavery; a slavery which is not only useful to the slaves themselves, but, moreover, just." A miserable philosophy, which, in order to support that degraded state, was obliged to have recourse to such subtilties, and ventured to impute to nature the intention of creating different castes, some born to command and others to obey; a cruel philosophy, which thus labored to break the bonds of fraternity with which the Author of nature has desired to knit together the human race, pretending to raise a barrier between man and man, and inventing theories to support inequality; not that inequality which is the necessary result of all social organization, but an inequality so terrible and degrading as that of slavery.

Christianity raises its voice, and by the first words which it pronounces on slaves, declares them equal to all men in the dignity of nature, and in the participation of the graces which the Divine Spirit diffuses upon earth. We must remark the care with which St. Paul insists on this point; it seems as if he had in view those degrading distinctions which have arisen from a fatal forgetfulness of the dignity of man. The Apostle never forgets to inculcate to the faithful that there is no difference between the slave and the freeman. "For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free." (1 Cor. xii. 13.) "For you are all children of God, by faith in Jesus Christ. For as many of you as have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither bond or free; there is neither male or female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal. iii. 26-28.) "Where there is neither Gentile nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian or Scythian, bond or free; but Christ is all and in all." (Colos. iii. 11.) The heart dilates at the sound of the voice thus loudly proclaiming the great principles of holy fraternity and equality. After having heard the oracles of Paganism inventing doctrines to degrade still more the unhappy slaves, we seem to awake from a painful dream, and to find ourselves in the light of day in the midst of the delightful reality. The imagination delights to contemplate the millions of men who, bent under degradation and ignominy, at this voice raised their eyes towards Heaven, and were animated with hope.

It was with this teaching of Christianity as with all generous and fruitful doctrines; they penetrate the heart of society, remain there as a precious germ, and, developed by time, produce an immense tree which overshadows families and nations. When these doctrines were diffused among men, they could not fail to be misunderstood and exaggerated. Thus there were found some who pretended that Christian freedom was the proclamation of universal freedom. The pleasing words of Christ easily resounded in the ears of slaves: they heard themselves declared children of God, and brethren of Jesus Christ; they saw that there was no distinction made between them and their masters, between them and the most powerful lords of the earth; is it, then, strange that men only accustomed to chains, to labor, to every kind of trouble and degradation, exaggerated the principles of Christian liberty, and made applications of them which were neither just in themselves, nor capable of being reduced to practice? We know, from St. Jerome, that many, hearing themselves called to Christian liberty, believed that they were thereby freed. Perhaps the Apostle alluded to this error when, in his first epistle to Timothy, he said, "Whosoever are servants under the yoke, let them count their masters worthy of all honor; lest the name of the Lord and His doctrines be blasphemed." (1 Timothy vi. 1.) This error had been so general, that after three centuries it was still much credited; and the Council of Gangres, held about 324, was obliged to excommunicate those who, under pretence of piety, taught that slaves ought to quit their masters, and withdraw from their service. This was not the teaching of Christianity; besides, we have clearly shown that it would not have been the right way to achieve universal emancipation. Therefore this same Apostle, from whose mouth we have heard such generous language in favor of slaves, frequently inculcates to them obedience to their masters; but let us observe, that while fulfilling this duty imposed by the spirit of peace and justice which animates Christianity, he so explains the motives on which the obedience of slaves ought to be based, he calls to mind the obligations of masters in such affecting and energetic words, and establishes so expressly and conclusively the equality of all men before God, that we cannot help seeing how great was his compassion for that unhappy portion of humanity, and how much his ideas on this point differed from those of a blind and hardened world. There is in the heart of man a feeling of noble independence, which does not permit him to subject himself to the will of another, except when he sees that the claims to his obedience are founded on legitimate titles. If they are in accordance with reason and justice, and, above all, if they have their roots in the great objects of human love and veneration, his understanding is convinced, his heart is gained, and he yields. But if the reason for the command is only the will of another, if it is only man against man, these thoughts of equality ferment in his mind, then the feeling of independence burns in his heart, he puts on a bold front, and his passions are excited. Therefore, when a willing and lasting obedience is to be obtained, it is necessary that the man should be lost sight of in the ruler, and that he should only appear as the representative of a superior power, or the personification of the motives which convince the subject of the justice and utility of his submission; thus he does not obey the will of another because it is that will, but because it is the representative of a superior power, or the interpreter of truth and justice; then man no longer considers his dignity outraged, and obedience becomes tolerable and pleasing.

It is unnecessary to say that such were not the titles on which was founded the obedience of slaves before Christianity: custom placed them in the rank of brutes; and the laws, outdoing it if possible, were expressed in language which cannot be read without indignation. Masters commanded because such was their pleasure, and slaves were compelled to obey, not on account of superior motives or moral obligations, but because they were the property of their masters, horses governed by the bridle, and mere mechanical machines. Was it, then, strange that these unhappy beings, drenched with misfortune and ignominy, conceived and cherished in their hearts that deep rancor, that violent hatred, and that terrible thirst for vengeance, which at the first opportunity exploded so fearfully? The horrible massacre of Tyre, the example and terror of the universe, according to the expression of Justin; the repeated revolts of the Penestes in Thessaly, of the Helotes in Sparta; the defections of the slaves of Chio and Athens; the insurrection under the command of Herdonius, and the terror which it spread in all the families of Rome; the scenes of blood, the obstinate and desperate resistance of the bands of Spartacus; was all this any thing but the natural result of the system of violence, outrage, and contempt with which slaves were treated? Is it not what we have seen repeated in modern times, in the catastrophes of the negro colonies? Such is the nature of man, whoever sows contempt and outrage will reap fury and vengeance. Christianity was well aware of these truths; and this is the reason why, while preaching obedience, it took care to found it on Divine authority. If it confirmed to masters their rights, it also taught them an exalted sense of their obligation. Wherever Christian doctrines prevailed, slaves might say: "It is true that we are unfortunate; birth, poverty, or the reverses of war have condemned us to misfortune; but at least we are acknowledged as men and brethren; between us and our masters there is a reciprocity of rights and obligations." Let us hear the Apostle: "You, slaves, obey those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the simplicity of your hearts, as to Jesus Christ himself. Not serving to the eye, as it were pleasing men, but, as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart. With a good will serving, as to the Lord, and not to men. Knowing that whatsoever good things any man shall do, the same shall he receive from the Lord, whether he be bond or free. And you, masters, do the same thing to them, forbearing threatenings, knowing that the Lord both of them and you is in heaven, and there is no respect of persons with Him." (Eph. vi. 5-9.) In the Epistle to the Colossians he inculcates the same doctrine of obedience anew, basing it on the same motives; for, to console the unfortunate slaves, he tells them: "You shall receive of the Lord the reward of inheritance: serve ye the Lord Christ. For he that doth wrong shall receive for that which he hath done wrongfully, and there is no respect of persons with God" (Colos. iii. 24, 25); and lower down, addressing himself to masters: "Masters, do to your servants that which is just and equal, knowing that you also have a Master in heaven." (iv. 1.)

The diffusion of such beneficent doctrines necessarily tended to improve greatly the condition of slaves; their immediate effect was to soften that excessive rigor, that cruelty which would be incredible if it were not incontrovertibly proved. We know that the master had the right of life and death, and that he abused that power even to putting a slave to death from caprice, as Quintus Flaminius did in the midst of a festival. Another caused one of these unfortunate beings to be thrown to the fishes, because he broke a glass of crystal. This is related of Vedius Pollio; and this horrible cruelty was not confined to the circle of a few families subject to a master devoid of compassion; no, cruelty was formed into a system, the fatal but necessary result of erroneous notions on this point, and of the forgetfulness of the sentiments of humanity. This violent system could only be supported by constantly trampling upon the slave; and there was no cessation of tyranny until the day when he, with superior power, attacked his master and destroyed him. An ancient proverb said, "So many slaves, so many enemies." We have already seen the ravages committed by men thus rendered savage by revenge, whenever they were able to break their chains; but certainly, when it was desired to terrify them, their masters did not yield to them in ferocity. At Sparta, on one occasion when they feared the ill-will of the Helotes, they assembled them all at the temple of Jupiter, and put them to death. (Thucyd. b. iv.) At Rome, whenever a master was assassinated, all his slaves were condemned to death. We cannot read in Tacitus without a shudder (Ann. l. xiv. 43) the horrible scene which was witnessed when the prefect of the town, Pedanius Secundus, was assassinated by one of his slaves. Not less than four hundred were to die; all, according to the ancient custom, were to be led to punishment. This cruel and pitiable spectacle, in which so many of the innocent were to suffer death, excited the compassion of the people, who raised a tumult to prevent this horrid butchery. The Senate, in doubt, deliberated on the affair, when an orator named Cassius maintained with energy that it was necessary to complete the bloody execution, not only in obedience to the ancient custom, but also because without it it would be impossible to preserve themselves from the ill-will of the slaves. His words are all dictated by injustice and tyranny; he sees on all sides dangers and conspiracies; he can imagine no other safeguards than force and terror. The following passage is above all remarkable in his speech, as showing in a few words the ideas and manners of the ancients in this matter: "Our ancestors," says the senator, "always mistrusted the character of slaves, even of those who, born on their possessions and in their houses, might be supposed to have conceived from their cradle an affection for their masters; but as we have slaves of foreign nations, differing in customs and religion, this rabble can only be restrained by terror." Cruelty prevailed, the boldness of the people was repressed, the way was filled with soldiers, and the four hundred unfortunate beings were led to punishment.

To soften this cruel treatment, to banish these frightful atrocities, ought to have been the first effect of the Christian doctrines; and we may rest assured that the Church never lost sight of so important an object. She devoted all her efforts to improve as much as possible the condition of slaves; in punishments she caused mildness to be substituted for cruelty; and what was more important than all, she labored to put reason in the place of caprice, and to make the impetuosity of masters yield to the calmness of judges; that is to say, she every day assimilated the condition of slaves more and more to that of freemen, by making right and not might reign over them. The Church never forgot the noble lesson which the Apostle gave when writing to Philemon, and interceding in favor of a fugitive slave named Onesimus; he spoke in his favor with a tenderness which this unhappy class had never before inspired: "I beseech thee," he says to him, "for my son Onesimus. Receive him as my own bowels; no more as a slave, but as a most dear brother. If he hath wronged thee in any thing, or is in thy debt, put that to my account." (Epis. to Phil.) The Council of Elvira, held in the beginning of the fourth century, subjects the woman who shall have beaten her slave so as to cause her death in three days to many years of penance; the Council of Orleans, held in 549, orders that if a slave guilty of a fault take refuge in a church, he is to be restored to his master, but not without having exacted from the latter a promise, confirmed by oath, that he will not do him any harm; that if the master, in violation of his oath, maltreat the slave, he shall be separated from the communion of the faithful and the sacraments. This canon shows us two things: the habitual cruelty of masters, and the zeal of the Church to soften the treatment of slaves. To restrain this cruelty, nothing less than an oath was required; and the Church, always so careful in these things, yet considered the matter important enough to justify and require the invocation of the sacred name of God.

The favor and protection which the Church granted to slaves rapidly extended. It seems that in some places the custom was introduced of requiring a promise on oath, not only that the slave who had taken refuge in the church should not be ill-treated in his person, but even that no extraordinary work should be imposed on him, and that he should wear no distinctive mark. This custom, produced no doubt by zeal for humanity, but which may have occasioned some inconveniences by relaxing too much the ties of obedience, and allowing excesses on the part of slaves, appears to be alluded to in a regulation of the Council of Epaone (now Abbon, according to some), held about 517. This Council labors to stop the evil by prescribing a prudent moderation; but without withdrawing the protection already granted. It ordains, in the 39th canon, "That if a slave, guilty of any atrocious offence, takes refuge in a church, he shall be saved from corporal punishment; but the master shall not be compelled to swear that he will not impose on him additional labor, or that he will not cut off his hair, in order to make known his fault." Observe that this restriction is introduced only in the case when the slave shall have committed a heinous offence, and even in this case all the power allowed to the master consists in imposing on the slave extraordinary labor, or distinguishing him by cutting his hair.

Perhaps such indulgence may be considered excessive; but we must observe that when abuses are deeply rooted, they cannot be eradicated without a vigorous effort. At first sight it often appears as if the limits of prudence were passed; but this apparent excess is only the inevitable oscillation which is observed before things regain their right position. The Church had therein no wish to protect crime, or give unmerited indulgence; her object was to check the violence and caprice of masters; she did not wish to allow a man to suffer torture or death because such was the will of another. The establishment of just laws and legitimate tribunals, the Church has never opposed; but she has never given her consent to acts of private violence. The spirit of opposition to the exercise of private force, which includes social organization, is clearly shown to us in the 15th canon of the Council of Merida, held in 666. I have already shown that slaves formed a large portion of property. As the division of labor was made in conformity with this principle, slaves were absolutely necessary to those who possessed property, especially when it was considerable. Now the Church found this to be the case; and as she could not change the organization of society on a sudden, she was obliged to yield to necessity, and admit slavery. But if she wished to introduce improvements in the lot of slaves in general, it was good for her to set the example herself: this example is found in the canon I have just quoted. There, after having forbidden the bishops and priests to maltreat the servants of the Church by mutilating their limbs, the Council ordains that if a slave commit an offence, he shall be delivered to the secular judges, but so that the bishops shall moderate the punishment inflicted on him. We see by this canon that the right of mutilation exercised by private masters was still in use; and perhaps it was still more strongly established, since we see that the Council limits itself to interdicting that kind of punishment to ecclesiastics, without saying any thing as to laymen. No doubt, one of the motives for this prohibition made to ecclesiastics, was to prevent their shedding human blood, and thus rendering themselves incapable of exercising their lofty ministry, the principal act of which is the august sacrifice in which they offer a victim of peace and love; but this does not in any way detract from the merit of the regulation, or at all diminish its influence on the improvement of the condition of slaves. It was the substitution of public vengeance for private; it was again to proclaim the equality of slaves and freemen with respect to the effusion of their blood; it was to declare that the hands which had shed the blood of a slave, had contracted the same stain as if they had shed that of a freeman. Now, it was necessary to inculcate these salutary truths on men's minds in every way, for they ran in direct contradiction to the ideas and manners of antiquity; it was necessary to labor assiduously to destroy the shameful and cruel exceptions which continued to deprive the majority of mankind of a participation in the rights of humanity. There is, in the canon which I have just quoted, a remarkable circumstance, which shows the solicitude of the Church to restore to slaves the dignity and respect of which they had been deprived. To shave the hair of the head was among the Goths a very ignominious punishment; which, according to Lucas de Tuy, was to them more cruel than death itself. It will be understood, that whatever was the force of prejudice on this point, the Church might have allowed the shaving of the hair without incurring the stain which was attached to the shedding of blood. Yet she was not willing to allow it, which shows us how attentive she was to destroy the marks of humiliation impressed on slaves. After having enjoined priests and bishops to deliver criminal slaves to the judges, she commands them "not to allow them to be shaved ignominiously." No care was too great in this matter; to destroy one after another the odious exceptions which affected slaves, it was necessary to seize upon all favorable opportunities. This necessity is clearly shown by the manner in which the eleventh Council of Toledo, held in 675, expresses itself. This Council, in its 6th canon, forbids bishops themselves to judge crimes of a capital nature, as it also forbids them to order the mutilation of members. Behold in what terms it was considered necessary to state that this rule admitted of no exception; "not even," says the Council, "with respect to the slaves of the Church." The evil was great, it could not be cured without assiduous care. Even the right of life and death, the most cruel of all, could not be extirpated without much trouble; and cruel applications of it were made in the beginning of the sixth century, since the Council of Epaone, in its 34th canon, ordains that "the master who, of his own authority, shall take away the life of his slave, shall be cut off for two years from the communion of the Church." After the middle of the ninth century, similar attempts were still made, and the Council of Worms, held in 868, labored to repress them, by subjecting to two years of penance the master who, of his own authority, shall have put his slave to death.

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XVII. MEANS EMPLOYED BY THE CHURCH TO ENFRANCHISE SLAVES

While improving the condition of slaves and assimilating it as much as possible to that of freemen, it was necessary not to forget the universal emancipation; for it was not enough to ameliorate slavery, it was necessary to abolish it. The mere force of Christian notions, and the spirit of charity which was spread at the same time with them over the world, made so violent an attack on the state of slavery, that they were sure sooner or later to bring about its complete abolition. It is impossible for society to remain for a long time under an order of things which is formally opposed to the ideas with which it is imbued. According to Christian maxims, all men have a common origin and the same destiny; all are brethren in Jesus Christ; all are obliged to love each other with all their hearts, to assist each other in their necessities, to avoid offending each other even in words; all are equal before God, for they will all be judged without exception of persons. Christianity extended and took root everywhere--took possession of all classes, of all branches of society; how, then, could the state of slavery last--a state of degradation which makes man the property of another, allows him to be sold like an animal, and deprives him of the sweetest ties of family and of all participation in the advantages of society? Two things so opposite could not exist together; the laws were in favor of slavery, it is true; it may even be said that Christianity did not make a direct attack on those laws. But, on the other hand, what did it do? It strove to make itself master of ideas and manners, communicated to them a new impulse, and gave them a different direction. In such a case, what did laws avail? Their rigor was relaxed, their observance was neglected, their equity began to be doubted, their utility was disputed, their fatal effects were remarked, and they gradually fell into desuetude, so that sometimes it was not necessary to strike a blow to destroy them. They were thrown aside as things of no use; or, if they deserved the trouble of an express abolition, it was only for the sake of ceremony; it was a body interred with honor.

But let it not be supposed, after what I have just said, that in attributing so much importance to Christian ideas and manners, I mean that the triumph of these ideas and manners was abandoned to that force alone, without that co-operation on the part of the Church which the time and circumstances required. Quite the contrary: the Church, as I have already pointed out, called to her aid all the means the most conducive to the desired result. In the first place, it was requisite, to secure the work of emancipation, to protect from all assault the liberty of the freed--liberty which unhappily was often attacked and put in great danger. The causes of this melancholy fact may be easily found in the remains of ancient ideas and manners, in the cupidity of powerful men, the system of violence made general by the irruptions of the barbarians, in the poverty, neglect, and total want of education and morality in which slaves must have been when they quitted servitude. It must be supposed that a great number of them did not know all the value of liberty; that they did not always conduct themselves, in their new state, according to the dictates of reason and the exigences of justice; and that, newly entered on the possession of the rights of freemen, they did not know how to fulfil all their new obligations. But these different inconveniences, inseparable from the nature of things, were not to hinder the consummation of an enterprise called for both by religion and humanity, and it was proper to be resigned to them from the consideration of the numerous motives for excusing the conduct of the enfranchised; the state which these men had just quitted had checked the development of their moral and intellectual faculties.

The liberty of newly-emancipated slaves was protected against the attacks of injustice, and clothed with an inviolable sanctity, from the time that their enfranchisement was connected with things which then exercised the most powerful ascendency. Now the Church, and all that belonged to her, was in this influential position; therefore the custom, which was then introduced, of performing the manumission in the churches, was undoubtedly very favorable to the progress of liberty. This custom, by taking the place of ancient usages, caused them to be forgotten; it was, at the same time, a tacit declaration of the value of human liberty in the sight of God, and a proclamation, with additional authority, of the equality of men before Him; for the manumission was made in the same place where it was so often read, that before Him there was no exception of persons; where all earthly distinctions disappeared, and all men were commingled and united by the sweet ties of fraternity and love. This method of manumission more clearly invested the Church with the right of defending the liberty of the enfranchised. As she had been witness to the act, she could testify to the spontaneity and the other circumstances which assured its validity; she could even insist on its observance, by representing that the promised liberty could not be violated without profaning the sacred place, without breaking a pledge which had been given in the presence of God himself. The Church did not forget to turn these circumstances to the advantage of the freed. Thus we see that the first Council of Orange, held in 441, ordains, in its 7th canon, that it was necessary to check, by ecclesiastical censures, whoever desired to reduce to any kind of servitude slaves who had been emancipated within the enclosure of the church. A century later we find the same prohibition repeated in the 7th canon of the fifth Council of Orleans, held in 549.

The protection given by the Church to freed slaves was so manifest and known to all, that the custom was introduced of especially recommending them to her. This recommendation was sometimes made by will, as the Council of Orange, which I have just quoted, gives us to understand; for it orders that the emancipated who had been recommended to the Church by will, shall be protected from all kinds of servitude, by ecclesiastical censures.

But this recommendation was not always made in a testamentary form. We read in the sixth canon of the sixth Council of Toledo, held in 589, that when any enfranchised persons had been recommended to the Church, neither they nor their children could be deprived of the protection of the Church: here they speak in general, without limitation to cases in which there had been a will. The same regulation may be seen in another Council of Toledo, held in 633, which simply says, that the Church will receive under her protection only the enfranchised of individuals who shall have taken care to recommend them to her.

In the absence of all particular recommendation, and even when the manumission had not been made in the Church, she did not cease to interest herself in defending the freed, when their liberty was endangered. He who has any regard for the dignity of man, and any feeling of humanity in his heart, will certainly not find it amiss that the Church interfered in affairs of this kind; indeed, she acted as every generous man should do, in the exercise of the right of protecting the weak. We shall not be displeased, therefore, to find in the twenty-ninth canon of the Council of Agde in Languedoc, held in 506, a regulation commanding the Church, in case of necessity, to undertake the defence of those to whom their masters had given liberty in a lawful way.

The zeal of the Church in all times and places for the redemption of captives has no less contributed to the great work of the abolition of slavery. We know that a considerable portion of slaves owed their servitude to the reverses of war. The mild character which we see in modern wars would have appeared fabulous to the ancients. Woe to the vanquished! might then be said with perfect truth; there was nothing but slavery or death. The evil was rendered still greater by a fatal prejudice, which was felt with respect to the redemption of captives--a prejudice which was, nevertheless, founded on a trait of remarkable heroism. No doubt the heroic firmness of Regulus is worthy of all admiration. The hair stands upon our head when we read the powerful description of Horace; the book falls from our hands at this terrible passage:

"Fertur pudicæ conjugis osculum Parvosque natos, ut capitis minor, Ab se removisse, et virilem Torvus humi posuisse vultum."--Lib. iii. od. 5.

Nevertheless, if we lay aside the deep impression which such heroism produces on us, and the enthusiasm at all that shows a great soul, we must confess that this virtue bordered on ferocity; and that, in the terrible discourse of Regulus, that is a cruel policy, against which the sentiments of humanity would strongly recoil, if the mind were not, as it were, prostrated at the sight of the sublime disinterestedness of the speaker. Christianity could not consent to such doctrines; it could not allow the maxim to be maintained that, in order to render men brave in battle, it was necessary to deprive them of hope. The wonderful traits of valor, the magnificent scenes of force and constancy, which shine in every page of the history of modern nations, eloquently show that the Christian religion was not deceived; gentleness of manners may be united with heroism. The ancients were always in excess, either in cowardice or ferocity; between these two extremes there is a middle way, and that has been taught to mankind by the Christian religion. Christianity, in accordance with its principles of fraternity and love, regarded the redemption of captives as one of the worthiest objects of its charitable zeal. Whether we consider the noble traits of particular actions, which have been preserved to us by history, or observe the spirit which guided the conduct of the Church, we shall find therein one of the most distinguished claims of the Christian religion to the gratitude of mankind.

A celebrated writer of our times, M. de Chateaubriand, has described to us a Christian priest who, in the forests of France, voluntarily made himself a slave, who devoted himself to slavery for the ransom of a Christian soldier, and thus restored a husband to his desolate wife, and a father to three unfortunate orphan children. The sublime spectacle which Zachary offers us, when enduring slavery with calm serenity for the love of Jesus Christ, and for the unhappy being for whom he has sacrificed his liberty, is not a mere fiction of the poet. More than once, in the first ages of the Church, such examples were seen; and he who has wept over the sublime disinterestedness and unspeakable charity of Zachary, may be sure that his tears are only a tribute to the truth. "We have known," says St. Clement the Pope, "many of ours who have devoted themselves to captivity, in order to ransom their brethren." (First Letter to the Corinth. c. 55.) The redemption of captives was so carefully provided for by the Church that it was regulated by the ancient canons, and to fulfil it, she sold, if necessary, her ornaments, and even the sacred vessels. When unhappy captives were in question, her charity and zeal knew no bounds, and she went so far as to ordain that, however bad might be the state of her affairs, their ransom should be provided for in the first instance. (Caus. 12, 5, 2.) In the midst of revolutions produced by the irruption of barbarians, we see that the Church, always constant in her designs, forgot not the noble enterprise in which she was engaged. The beneficent regulations of the ancient canons fell not into forgetfulness or desuetude, and the generous words of the holy Bishop of Milan, in favor of slaves, found an echo which ceased not to be heard amid the chaos of those unhappy times. We see by the fifth canon of the Council of Mâcon, held in 585, that priests undertook the ransom of captives by devoting to it the Church property. The Council of Rheims, held in 625, inflicts the punishment of suspension from his functions on the bishop who shall have destroyed the sacred vessels; but with generous foresight, it adds, "for any other motive than the redemption of captives;" and long afterwards, in the twelfth canon of the Council of Verneuil, held in 844, we find that the property of the Church was used for that merciful purpose. When the captive was restored to liberty, the Church did not deprive him of her protection; she was careful to continue it, by giving him letters of recommendation, for the double purpose of protecting him from new trouble during his journey, and of furnishing him with the means of repairing his losses during his captivity. We find a proof of this new kind of protection in the second canon of the Council of Lyons, held in 583, which ordains that bishops shall state in the letters of recommendation which they give to captives, the date and price of their ransom. The zeal for this work was displayed in the Church with so much ardor, that it went so far as to commit acts of imprudence which the ecclesiastical authority was compelled to check. These excesses, and this mistaken zeal, prove how great was the spirit of charity. We know by a Council, called that of St. Patrick, held in Ireland in the year 451 or 456, that some of the clergy ventured to procure the freedom of captives by inducing them to run away. The Council, by its thirty-second canon, very prudently checks this excess, by ordaining that the ecclesiastic who desires to ransom captives must do so with his own money; for to steal them, by inducing them to run away, was to expose the clergy to be considered as robbers, which was a dishonor to the Church. A remarkable document, which, while showing us the spirit of order and equity which guides the Church, at the same time enables us to judge how deeply was engraved on men's minds the maxim, that it is holy, meritorious, and generous to give liberty to captives; for we see that some persons had persuaded themselves that the excellence of the work justified seizing them forcibly. The disinterestedness of the Church on this point is not less laudable. When she had employed her funds in the ransom of a captive, she did not desire from him any recompense, even when he had it in his power to discharge the debt. We have a certain proof of this in the letters of St. Gregory, where we see that that Pope reassures some persons who had been freed with the money of the Church, and who feared that after a time they would be called upon to pay the sum expended for their advantage. The Pope orders that no one, at any time, shall venture to disturb either them or their heirs, seeing that the sacred canons allow the employment of the goods of the Church for the ransom of captives. (L. 7, ep. 14.)

The zeal of the Church for so holy a work must have contributed in an extraordinary way to diminish the number of slaves; the influence of it was so much the more salutary, as it was developed precisely at the time when it was most needed, that is, in those ages when the dissolution of the Roman empire, the irruption of the barbarians, the fluctuations of so many peoples, and the ferocity of the invading nations, rendered wars so frequent, revolutions so constant, and the empire of force so habitual and prevailing. Without the beneficent and liberating intervention of Christianity, the immense number of slaves bequeathed by the old society to the new, far from diminishing, would have been augmented more and more; for wherever the law of brute force prevails, if it be not checked and softened by a powerful element, the human race becomes rapidly debased, the necessary result of which is the increase of slavery. This lamentable state of agitation and violence was in itself very likely to render the efforts which the Church made to abolish slavery useless; and it was not without infinite trouble that she prevented what she succeeded in preserving on one side, from being destroyed on the other. The absence of a central power, the complication of social relations, almost always badly determined, often affected by violence, and always deprived of the guarantee of stability and consistency, was the reason why there was no security either for things or persons, and that while properties were unceasingly invaded, persons were deprived of their liberty. So that it was at that time necessary to fight against the violence of individuals, as had been formerly done against manners and legislation. We see that the third canon of the Council of Lyons, held about 566, excommunicates those who unjustly retain free persons in slavery; in the seventeenth canon of the Council of Rheims, held in 625, it is forbidden, under the same penalty, to pursue free persons in order to reduce them to slavery: in the twenty-seventh canon of the Council of London, held in 1102, the barbarous custom of dealing in men, like animals, is proscribed: and in the seventh canon of the Council of Coblentz, held in 922, he who takes away a Christian to sell him is declared guilty of homicide; a remarkable declaration, when we see liberty valued at as high a price as life itself. Another means of which the Church availed herself to abolish slavery was, to preserve for the unfortunate who had been reduced to that state by misery, a sure means of quitting it.

We have already remarked above that indigence was one of the causes of slavery, and we have seen that this was frequently the cause among the Gauls, as is evidenced by a passage of Cæsar. We also know that by virtue of an ancient law, he who had fallen into slavery could not recover his liberty without the consent of his master; as the slave was really property, no one could dispose of him without the consent of his master, and least of all himself. This law was in accordance with Pagan doctrines, but Christianity regarded the thing differently; and if the slave was still in her eyes a property, he did not cease to be a man. Thus on this point the Church refused to follow the strict rules of other properties; and when there was the least doubt, at the first favorable opportunity she took the side of the slave. These observations make us understand all the value of the new law introduced by the Church, which ordained that persons who had been sold by necessity should be able to return to their former condition by restoring the price which they had received. This law, which is expressly laid down in a French Council, held about 616 at Boneuil, according to the common opinion, opened a wide field for the conquests of liberty; it supported in the heart of the slave a hope which urged him to seek and put into operation the means of obtaining his ransom, and it placed his liberty within the power of any one who, touched with his unhappy lot, was willing to pay or lend the necessary sum. Let us remember what we have said of the ardent zeal which was awakened in so many hearts for works of this kind; let us call to mind that the property of the Church was always considered as well employed when it was used for the succor of the unfortunate, and we shall understand the incalculable influence of the regulation which we have just mentioned. We shall see that it was to close one of the most abundant sources of slavery, and prepare a wide path to universal emancipation.

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XVIII. CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT

The conduct of the Church with respect to the Jews also contributed to the abolition of slavery. This singular people, who bear on their forehead the mark of proscription, and are found dispersed among all nations, like fragments of insoluble matter floating in a liquid, seek to console themselves in their misfortune by accumulating treasures, and appear to wish to avenge themselves for the contemptuous neglect in which they are left by other nations, by gaining possession of their wealth by means of insatiable usury. In times when revolutions and so many calamities must necessarily have produced distress, the odious vice of unfeeling avarice must have had a fatal influence. The harshness and cruelty of ancient laws and manners concerning debtors were not effaced, liberty was far from being estimated at its just value, and examples of persons who sold it to relieve their necessities were not wanting; it was therefore important to prevent the power of the wealthy Jews from reaching an exorbitant extent, to the detriment of the liberty of Christians. The unhappy notoriety which, after so many centuries, attaches to the Jews in this matter, proves that this danger was not imaginary; and facts of which we are now witnesses are a confirmation of what we advance. The celebrated Herder, in his Adrastus, ventures to prognosticate that the children of Israel, from their systematic and calculating conduct, will in time make slaves of all Christians. If this extraordinary and extravagant apprehension could enter the head of a distinguished man, in circumstances which are certainly infinitely less favorable to the Jews, what was to be feared from this people in the unhappy times of which we speak? From these considerations, every impartial observer, every man who is not under the influence of the wretched desire of taking the part of every kind of sect, in order to have the pleasure of accusing the Catholic Church, even at the risk of speaking against the interests of humanity; every observer who is not one of those who are less alarmed by an irruption of Caffres than by any regulation by which the ecclesiastical power appears in the smallest degree to extend the circle of its prerogative; every man, I say, who is neither thus bitter, little, nor pitiful, will see, not only without being scandalized, but even with pleasure, that the Church, with prudent vigilance, watched the progress of the Jews, and lost no opportunity of favoring their Christian slaves, until they were no longer allowed to have any.

The third Council of Orleans, held in 538, by its 13th canon, forbids Jews to compel Christian slaves to do things contrary to the religion of Jesus Christ. This regulation, which guarantied the liberty of the slave in the sanctuary of conscience, rendered him respectable even in the eyes of his master: it was besides a solemn proclamation of the dignity of man, it was a declaration that slavery could not extend its dominion over the sacred region of the mind. Yet this was not enough; it was proper also that the recovery of their liberty should be facilitated to the slaves of Jews. Three years only pass away; a fourth Council is held at Orleans; let us observe the progress which the question had made in so short a time. This Council, by its 30th canon, allows the Christian slaves who shall take refuge in the church to be ransomed, on paying to their Jewish master the proper price. If we pay attention, we shall see that such a regulation must have produced abundant results in favor of liberty, as it gave Christian slaves the opportunity of flying to the churches, and there imploring, with more effect, the charity of their brethren, to gain the price of their ransom. The same Council, in its 31st canon, ordains that the Jew who shall pervert a Christian slave shall be condemned to lose all his slaves; a new sanction given to the security of the slave's conscience--a new way opened to liberty. The Church constantly advanced with that unity of plan--that admirable consistency--which even her enemies have acknowledged in her. In the short interval between the period alluded to and the latter part of the same century, her progress was more perceptible. We observe, in the canonical regulations of the latter period, a wider scope, and, if we may so speak, greater boldness. In the Council of Mâcon, held in 581 or 582, canon 16, Jews are expressly forbidden to have Christian slaves; and it is allowed to ransom those who are in their possession for twelve sous. We find the same prohibition in the 14th canon of the Council of Toledo, held in 589; so that at this time the Church shows what her desire is; she is unwilling that a Christian should be in any way the slave of a Jew. Constant in her design, she checked the evil by all the means in her power; if it was necessary, limiting the right of selling slaves, when there was danger of their falling into the hands of Jews. Thus we see that, by the 9th canon of the Council of Châlons, held in 650, it is forbidden to sell slaves out of the kingdom of Clovis, lest they should fall into the power of Jews. Yet the intention of the Church on this point was not understood by all, and her views were not seconded as they ought to have been; but she did not cease to repeat and inculcate them. In the middle of the seventh century there were found clergy and laity who sold their Christian slaves to Jews. The Church labored to check this abuse. The tenth Council of Toledo, held in 657, by its 7th canon, forbids Christians, and especially clerics, to sell their slaves to Jews; the Council adds these noble words: "They cannot be ignorant that these slaves have been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ; wherefore they ought rather to buy than sell them."

This ineffable goodness of a God made man, who had shed His blood for the redemption of all men, was the powerful motive which urged the Church to interest herself with so much zeal in the enfranchisement of slaves; and, indeed, was it not enough to inspire horror for so degrading an inequality, to think that these same men, reduced to the level of brutes, had been, as well as their masters, as well as the most powerful monarchs upon earth, the objects of the merciful intentions of the Most High? "Since our Redeemer, the Creator of all things," said Pope S. Gregory, "has deigned, in His goodness, to assume the flesh of man, in order to restore to us our pristine liberty, by breaking, through the means of His Divine grace, the bonds of servitude, which held us captives, it is a salutary deed to restore to men, by enfranchisement, their native liberty; for, in the beginning, nature made them all free, and they have only been subjected to the yoke of servitude by the law of nations." (L. 5, lett. 72.)

During all times the Church has considered it very necessary to limit, as much as possible, the alienation of her property; and it may be said that the general rule of her conduct in this point was to trust very little to the discretion of any one of her ministers individually; she thus endeavored to prevent dilapidations, which otherwise would have been frequent. As her possessions were dispersed on all sides, and intrusted to ministers chosen from all classes of the people, and exposed to the various influences which the relations of blood, friendship, and a thousand other circumstances, the effects of difference of character, knowledge, prudence, and even of times and places, always exercise, the Church showed herself very watchful in giving her sanction to the power of alienation; and, when requisite, she knew how to act with salutary rigor against those ministers who, neglecting their duty, wasted the funds confided to them. We have seen that, in spite of all this, she was not stopped by any consideration when the ransom of captives was in question; it may be also shown that, with respect to property in slaves, she saw things in a different light, and changed her rigor into indulgence. When slaves had faithfully served the Church, the Bishops could grant them their liberty, and add a gift to assist them in maintaining themselves. This judgment as to the merit of slaves appears to have been confided to the discretion of the Bishops; and it is evident that such a regulation opened a wide door to their charity; at the same time, it stimulated the slaves to behave themselves, so as to deserve so precious a recompense. As it might happen that the succeeding Bishop might raise doubts as to the sufficiency of the motives which induced his predecessor to give liberty to a slave, and attempt afterwards to call it in question, it was ordained that they should respect the appointments of their predecessors on this point, and leave to the enfranchised not only their liberty, but also the gratuity which had been given to them in lands, vineyards, or houses: this is prescribed in the 7th canon of the Council of Agde in Languedoc, held in the year 506. Let it not be objected that manumission is forbidden by the canons of this Council in other places; they speak only in general terms, and allude not to cases where slaves had merited well. Alienations or mortgages made by a Bishop who left no property were to be revoked. This regulation itself shows that it alludes to cases in which the Bishops had acted against the canons. Yet if he had given liberty to any slaves, the rigor of the law was mitigated in their favor, and it was ordained that the enfranchised should continue to enjoy their liberty. This is ordained by the 9th canon of the Council of Orleans, held in 541. This canon only imposes on the enfranchised the obligation of lending their services to the Church; services which were evidently only those of the enfranchised. On the other hand, she recompensed them with the protection which she always granted to men in this condition.

As another proof of the indulgence of the Church with respect to slaves, may be cited the 10th canon of the Council of Celchite, in England, held in 816, the result of which must have been to enfranchise, in a few years, all the English slaves of the Churches existing in the countries where the Council was observed. Indeed, this canon ordained that, at the death of a Bishop, all his English slaves should be set at liberty; it added, that each of the other Bishops and Abbots might enfranchise three slaves on the occasion, by giving each of them three sous. Such regulations smoothed the way more and more, and prepared circumstances and men's minds, so that, some time later, was witnessed that noble scene, where, at the Council of Armagh, in 1172, liberty was given to all the English who were slaves in Ireland.

The advantageous conditions enjoyed by the slaves of the Church were so much the more valuable, because a regulation newly introduced prevented their losing them. If they could have passed into the hands of other masters, in this case they would have lost the benefits which they derived from living under the rule of so kind a mistress. But happily, it was forbidden to exchange them for others; and if they left the power of the Church, it was for freedom. We have a positive proof of this regulation in the decretals of Gregory IX. (l. 3, t. 19, chaps. 3 and 4). It should be observed that in this document the slaves of the Church are regarded as consecrated to God; thereon is founded the regulation which prevents their passing into other hands and leaving the Church, except as freemen. We also see there that the faithful, for the good of their souls, had the custom of offering their slaves to God and the Saints. By placing them thus in the power of the Church, they put them out of common dealing and prevented their again falling into profane servitude. It is useless to enlarge on the salutary effect which must have been produced by these ideas and manners, in which we see religion so intimately allied with the cause of humanity; it is enough to observe, that the spirit of that age was highly religious, and that which was attached to the cause of religion was sure to ride in safety.

Religious ideas, by constantly developing their strength and directing their action to all branches, were intended in a special manner to relieve men by all possible means from the yoke of slavery. On this subject we may be allowed to remark a canonical regulation of the time of Gregory the Great. In a Council at Rome, held in 595, and presided over by that Pope, a new means of escaping from their degraded state was offered to slaves, by deciding that liberty should be given to all those who desired to embrace the monastic life. The words of the holy Pope are worthy of attention; they show the ascendency of religious motives, and how much these motives preponderated over considerations and interests of a worldly nature. This important document is found in the letters of St. Gregory; it may be read in the notes at the end of the volume.

To imagine that such regulations would remain barren, is to mistake the spirit of those times: on the contrary, they produced the most important effects. We may form an idea of them by reading in the decree of Gratian (Distin. 54, c. 12), that they led to scandal; slaves fled from the houses of their masters and took refuge in monasteries, under pretext of religion. It was necessary to check this abuse, against which complaints arose on all sides. Without waiting to consider what these abuses themselves indicate, is it difficult to imagine that these regulations of the Church must have had valuable results? They not only gained liberty for a great many slaves, but also raised them very much in the eyes of the world, for they placed them in a state which every day gained importance and acquired an immense prestige and a powerful influence. We may form an idea of the profound change which took place every day in the organization of society, thanks to these various means, by fixing our attention for a moment on what resulted with respect to the ordination of slaves. The discipline of the Church on this point was in accordance with her doctrines. The slave was a man like other men, and he could be ordained as well as the greatest noble. Yet while he was subject to the power of his master, he was devoid of the independence necessary for the dignity of the sacred ministry; therefore it was required that he should not be ordained until he had been previously set at liberty. Nothing could be more just, reasonable, and prudent, than the limit thus placed on a discipline otherwise so noble and generous--a discipline which was in itself an eloquent protest in favor of the dignity of man. The Church solemnly declared that the misfortune of being a slave did not reduce him below the level of other men, for she did not think it unworthy of her to choose her ministers from among those who had been in servitude. By placing in so honorable a sphere those who had been slaves, she labored with lofty generosity to disperse the prejudices which existed against those who were placed in that unhappy condition, and created strong and effective ties between them and the most venerated class of freemen. The abuse which then crept in of conferring orders on slaves, without the consent of their masters, is above all worthy of our attention; an abuse, it is true, altogether contrary to the sacred canons, and which was checked by the Church with praiseworthy zeal, but which is not the less useful in enabling the observer duly to appreciate the profound effect of religious ideas and institutions. Without attempting in any way to excuse what was blamable therein, we may very well make use of the abuse itself, by considering that it frequently happens that abuses are only exaggerations of a good principle. Religious ideas accord but ill with slavery, although supported by laws; thence the incessant struggle, repeated under different aspects, but always directed towards the same end, viz. universal emancipation. It appears to us that we may now the more confidently avail ourselves of this kind of argument, as we have seen the most dreadful attempts at revolution treated with indulgence, on account of the principles with which the revolutionists were imbued and the objects which they had in view; objects which, as every one knows, were nothing less than an entire change in the organization of society. The abuse to which we have alluded, is attested by the curious documents which are found collected in the decree of Gratian (Dist. 54, c. 9, 10, 11, 12). When we examine these documents with attention, we find, 1st, that the number of slaves thus freed was very considerable, since the complaints on this subject were almost universal: 2d, that the Bishops were generally in favor of the slaves; that they carried their protection very far; that they labored in all ways to realize these doctrines of equality; indeed, it is affirmed in these documents that there was hardly a Bishop who could not be charged with this reprehensible compliance: 3d, that slaves were aware of this spirit of protection, and were eager to throw off their chains and cast themselves into the arms of the Church: 4th, that this combination of circumstances must have produced in men's minds a movement very favorable to liberty; and that this affectionate communication established between slaves and the Church, then so powerful and influential, must soon have weakened slavery, and rapidly have promoted the advance of nations towards that liberty which completely triumphed a few centuries later. The Church of Spain, whose civilizing influence has received so many eulogiums from men certainly but little attached to Catholicity, equally displays her lofty views and consummate prudence on this point. Charitable zeal in favor of slaves was so ardent, the tendency to raise them to the sacred ministry so decided, that it was necessary to allow free scope to this generous impulse, while reconciling it as much as possible with the sacredness of the ministry. Such was the twofold object of the discipline introduced into Spain, by virtue of which it was allowed to confer sacred orders on the slaves of the Church, on their being previously enfranchised. This is ordered by the 74th canon of the fourth Council of Toledo, held in 633; it is also inferred from the 11th canon of the ninth Council of Toledo, which ordains that Bishops shall not introduce the slaves of the Church among the clergy without having previously given them their liberty.

It is remarkable that this regulation was extended by the 18th canon of the Council of Merida, in 666, which gives to parish-priests the right of selecting clerks among the slaves of their own church, with the obligation of maintaining them according to their means. This wise discipline prevented, without any injustice, all the difficulties that might have ensued from the ordination of slaves; while it was a very mild way of effecting the most beneficent results, since in conferring orders on the slaves of the Church, it was easy to choose from among them such as were most deserving by their intellectual and moral qualifications. At the same time, it was affording the Church a most favorable and honorable mode of liberating her slaves, by enrolling them among her ministers. Finally, the Church by her generous conduct towards slaves, gave a salutary example to the laity. We have seen that she allowed the parochial clergy, as well as the bishops, the privilege of setting them free; and this must have rendered it less painful for laymen to emancipate their slaves, when circumstances seemed to call the latter to the sacred ministry.

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Chapter XIX

DOCTRINES OF S. AUGUSTINE AND S. THOMAS AQUINAS ON THE SUBJECT OF SLAVERY.--RÉSUMÉ OF THE SUBJECT.

Thus did the Church, by a variety of means, break the chains of slavery, without ever exceeding the limits marked out by justice and prudence: thus did she banish from among Christians that degrading condition, so contrary to their exalted ideas on the dignity of man, and their generous feelings of fraternity and love. Wherever Christianity shall be introduced, chains of iron shall be turned into gentle ties, and humiliated men shall raise their ennobled heads. With what pleasure do we read the remarks of one of the greatest men of Christianity, S. Augustine, on this point (De Civit. Dei, l. xix. c. 14, 15, 16). He establishes in a few words the obligation incumbent upon all who rule--fathers, husbands, and masters--to watch over the good of those who are under them: he lays down the advantage of those who obey, as one of the foundations for obedience; he says that the just do not rule from ambition or pride, but from duty and the desire of doing good to their subjects: "Neque enim dominandi cupiditate imperant, sed officio consulendi, nec principandi superbia, sed providendi misericordia;" and by these noble maxims he proscribes all opinions which tend to tyranny, or found obedience on any degrading notions; but on a sudden, as if this great mind apprehended some reply in violation of human dignity, he grows warm, he boldly faces the question; he rises to his full height, and, giving free scope to the noble thoughts that ferment in his mind, he invokes the idea of nature and the will of God in favor of the dignity of man thus menaced. He says: "Thus wills the order of nature; thus has man been created by God. He has given him to rule over the fishes of the sea, the birds of the air, and the reptiles that crawl on the face of the earth. He has ordained that reasoning creatures, made according to His own image, shall rule only over creatures devoid of reason. He has not established the dominion of man over man, but that of man over the brute." This passage of S. Augustine is one of those bold features which shine forth in writers of genius, when grieved by the sight of a painful object, they allow their generous ideas and feelings to have free scope, and cease to restrain their daring energies. Struck by the force of the expression, the reader, in suspense and breathless, hastens to read the succeeding lines; he fears that the author may be mistaken, seduced by the nobleness of his heart, and carried away by the force of his genius. But, with inexpressible pleasure, he finds that the writer has in no degree departed from the path of true doctrine, when, like a brave champion, he has descended into the arena to defend the cause of justice and humanity. Thus does S. Augustine now appear to us: the sight of so many unfortunate beings groaning in slavery, victims of the violence and caprice of their masters, afflicted his generous mind. By the light of reason and the doctrines of Christianity, he saw no reason why so considerable a portion of the human race should be condemned to live in such debasement; wherefore, when proclaiming the doctrines of submission and obedience, he labors to discover the cause of such ignominy; and not being able to find it in the nature of man, he seeks for it in sin, in malediction. "The primitive just men," says he, "were rather established as pastors over their flocks, than as kings over other men; whereby God gives us to understand what was called for by the order of creation, and what was required by the punishment of sin; for the condition of slavery has, with reason, been imposed on the sinner. Thus we do not find the word slave in the Scriptures before the day when the just man, Noah, gave it as a punishment to his guilty son; whence it follows that this word came from sin, and not from nature." This manner of considering slavery as the offspring of sin, as the fruit of the Divine malediction, was of the highest importance. By protecting the dignity of human nature, that doctrine completely destroyed all the prejudices of natural superiority which the pride of free men could entertain. Thereby also, slavery was deprived of all its supposed value as a political principle or means of government: it could only be regarded as one of the numberless scourges inflicted on the human race by the anger of the Most High. Henceforth slaves had a motive for resignation, while the absolute power of masters was checked, and the compassion of all free men was powerfully excited. All were born in sin, all might have been in a state of slavery. To make a boast of liberty would have been like the conduct of a man who, during an epidemic, should boast of having preserved his health, and imagine that on that account he had a right to insult the unhappy sick. In a word, the state of slavery was a scourge, nothing more; like pestilence, war, famine, or any thing else of the kind. The duty of all men was to labor to remedy and abolish it. Such doctrines did not remain sterile. Proclaimed in the face of day, they were heard in all parts of the Catholic world; and not only were they put in practice, as we have seen by numberless examples, but they were carefully preserved as a precious theory, throughout the confusion of the times. After the lapse of eight centuries, we see them repeated by one of the brightest lights of the Catholic Church, S. Thomas Aquinas (I. p. q. xcvi. art. 4). That great man does not see in slavery either difference of race or imaginary inferiority or means of government; he only considers it as a scourge inflicted on humanity by the sins of the first man.

Such is the repugnance with which Christians have looked upon slavery: we see from this, how false is the assertion of M. Guizot: "It does not seem that Christian society was surprised or much offended by it." It is true there was not that blind disturbance and irritation which, despising all barriers and paying no attention to the rules of justice or the counsels of prudence, ran with foolish haste to efface the mark of degradation and ignominy. But if that disturbance and irritation are meant which are caused by the sight of oppression and outrages committed against man, sentiments which can well accord with longanimity and holy resignation, and which, without checking for a moment the action of charitable zeal, nevertheless avoid precipitating events, preferring mature arrangement in order to secure a complete result; how can this perturbation of mind and holy indignation be better proved to have existed in the bosom of the Church than by the facts and doctrines which we have just quoted? What more eloquent protest against the continuance of slavery can you have than the doctrine of these two illustrious doctors? They declare it, as we have just seen, to be the fruit of malediction, the chastisement of the prevarication of the human race; and they only acknowledge its existence by considering it as one of the great scourges that afflict humanity.

I have explained, with sufficient evidence, the profound reasons which induced the Church to recommend obedience to slaves, and she cannot be reproached on that account with forgetting the rights of humanity. We must not suppose on that account that Christian society was wanting in the boldness necessary for telling the whole truth; but it told only the pure and wholesome truth. What took place with respect to the marriages of slaves is a proof of what I advance. We know that their union was not regarded as a real marriage, and that even that union, such as it was, could not be contracted without the consent of their masters, under pain of being considered as void. Here was a flagrant violation of reason and justice. What did the Church do? She directly reprobated so gross a violation of the rights of nature. Let us hear what Pope Adrian I. said on this subject: "According to the words of the Apostles, as in Jesus Christ we ought not to deprive either slaves or freemen of the sacraments of the Church, so it is not allowed in any way to prevent the marriage of slaves; and if their marriages have been contracted in spite of the opposition and repugnance of their masters, nevertheless they ought not to be dissolved in any way." (De Conju. Serv., lib. iv. tom. 9, c. 1.) And let it not be supposed that this regulation, which secured the liberty of slaves on one of the most important points, was restricted to particular circumstances; no, it was something more; it was a proclamation of their freedom in this matter. The Church was unwilling to allow that man, reduced to the level of the brute, should be forced to obey the caprice or the interest of another, without regard to the feelings of his heart. St. Thomas was of the same opinion, for he openly maintains that, with respect to the contracting of marriage, slaves are not obliged to obey their masters (2^a. 2, q. 104, art. 5).

In the hasty sketch which I have given, I believe that I have kept the promise which I made at the beginning, not to advance any proposition without supporting it by undeniable documents, and not to allow myself to be misled by enthusiasm in favor of Catholicity, so as to concede to it that to which it is not entitled. By passing, rapidly it is true, the course of ages, we have shown, by convincing proofs, which have been furnished by times and places the most various, that it was Catholicity that abolished slavery, in spite of ideas, manners, interests, and laws, which opposed obstacles apparently invincible; and that it has done so without injustice, without violence, without revolutions,--with the most exquisite prudence and the most admirable moderation. We have seen the Catholic Church make so extensive, so varied, and so efficacious an attack on slavery, that that odious chain was broken without a single violent stroke. Exposed to the action of the most powerful agents, it gradually relaxed and fell to pieces. Her proceedings may be thus recapitulated:--

First, she loudly teaches the truth concerning the dignity of man; she defines the obligations of masters and slaves; she declares them equal before God, and thus completely destroys the degrading theories which stain the writings even of the greatest philosophers of antiquity. She then comes to the application of her doctrines: she labors to improve the treatment of slaves; she struggles against the atrocious right of life and death; she opens her temples to them as asylums, and when they depart thence, prevents their being ill-treated; she labors to substitute public tribunals for private vengeance. At the same time that the Church guarantees the liberty of the enfranchised, by connecting it with religious motives, she defends that of those born free; she labors to close the sources of slavery, by displaying the most active zeal for the redemption of captives, by opposing the avarice of the Jews, by procuring for men who were sold, easy means of recovering their liberty. The Church gives an example of mildness and disinterestedness; she facilitates emancipation, by admitting slaves into monasteries and the ecclesiastical state; she facilitates it by all the other means that charity suggests; and thus it is that, in spite of the deep roots of slavery in ancient society--in spite of the perturbation caused by the irruptions of the barbarians--in spite of so many wars and calamities of every kind, which in great measure paralyzed the effect of all regulating and beneficent action--yet we see slavery, that dishonor and leprosy of ancient civilization, rapidly diminish among Christians, until it finally disappears. Surely in all this we do not discover a plan conceived and concerted by men. But we do observe therein, in the absence of that plan, such unity of tendencies, such a perfect identity of views, and such similarity in the means, that we have the clearest demonstration of the civilizing and liberating spirit contained in Catholicity. Accurate observers will no doubt be gratified in beholding, in the picture which I have just exhibited, the admirable concord with which the period of the empire, that of the irruption of the barbarians, and that of feudality, all tended towards the same end. They will not regret the poor regularity which distinguishes the exclusive work of man; they will love, I repeat it, to collect all the facts scattered in the seeming disorder, from the forests of Germany to the fields of Bœotia--from the banks of the Thames to those of the Tiber. I have not invented these facts; I have pointed out the periods, and cited the Councils. The reader will find, at the end of the volume, in the original and in full, the texts of which I have just given an abstract--a résumé: thus he may fully convince himself that I have not deceived him. If such had been my intention, surely I should have avoided descending to the level ground of facts; I should have preferred the vague regions of theory; I should have called to my aid high sounding and seductive language, and all the means the most likely to enchant the imagination and excite the feelings; in fine, I should have placed myself in one of those positions where a writer can suppose at his pleasure things which have never existed, and made the best use of the resources of imagination and invention. The task which I have undertaken is rather more difficult, perhaps less brilliant, but certainly more useful.

We may now inquire of M. Guizot what were the other causes, the other ideas, the other principles of civilization, the great development of which, to avail myself of his words, was necessary "to abolish this evil of evils, this iniquity of iniquities." Ought he not to explain, or at least point out, these causes, ideas, and principles of civilization, which, according to him, assisted the Church in the abolition of slavery, in order to save the reader the trouble of seeking or divining them? If they did not arise in the bosom of the Church, where did they arise? Were they found in the ruins of ancient civilization? But could these remains of a scattered and almost annihilated civilization effect what that same civilization, in all its vigor, power, and splendor, never did or thought of doing?--Were they in the individual independence of the barbarians? But that individuality, the inseparable companion of violence, must consequently have been the source of oppression and slavery. Were they found in the military patronage introduced, according to M. Guizot, by the barbarians themselves; patronage which laid the foundation of that aristocratical organization which was converted at a later period into feudality? But what could this patronage--an institution likely, on the contrary, to perpetuate slavery among the indigent in conquered countries, and to extend it to a considerable portion of the conquerors themselves--what could this patronage do for the abolition of slavery? Where, then, is the idea, the custom, the institution, which, born out of Christianity, contributed to the abolition of slavery? Let any one point out to us the epoch of its formation, the time of its development; let him show us that it had not its origin in Christianity, and we will then confess that the latter cannot exclusively lay claim to the glorious title of having abolished that degraded condition; and he may be sure that this shall not prevent our exalting that idea, custom, or institution which took part in the great and noble enterprise of liberating the human race.

We may be allowed, in conclusion, to inquire of the Protestant churches, of those ungrateful daughters who, after having quitted the bosom of their mother, attempt to calumniate and dishonor her, where were you when the Catholic Church accomplished in Europe the immense work of the abolition of slavery? and how can you venture to reproach her with sympathizing with servitude, degrading man, and usurping his rights? Can you, then, present any such claim entitling you to the gratitude of the human race? What part can you claim in that great work which prepared the way for the development and grandeur of European civilization? Catholicity alone, without your concurrence, completed the work; and she alone would have conducted Europe to its lofty destinies, if you had not come to interrupt the majestic march of its mighty nations, by urging them into a path bordered by precipices,--a path the end of which is concealed by darkness which the eye of God alone can pierce.[15]

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XX. CONTRAST BETWEEN TWO ORDERS OF CIVILIZATION

WE have seen that European civilization owes to the Catholic Church its finest ornament, its most valuable victory in the cause of humanity, the abolition of slavery. It was the Church that, by her doctrines, as beneficent as elevated, by a system as efficacious as prudent, by her unbounded generosity, her indefatigable zeal, her invincible firmness, abolished slavery in Europe; that is to say, she took the first step towards the regeneration of humanity, and laid the first stone for the wide and deep foundation of European civilization; we mean the emancipation of slaves, the abolition for ever of so degrading a state,--universal liberty. It was impossible to create and organize a civilization full of grandeur and dignity, without raising man from his state of abjection, and placing him above the level of animals. Whenever we see him crouching at another's feet, awaiting with anxiety the orders of his master or trembling at the lash; whenever he is sold like a beast, or a price is set upon his powers and his life, civilization will never have its proper development, it will always be weak, sickly, and broken; for thus humanity bears a mark of ignominy on its forehead.

After having shown that it was Catholicity that removed that obstacle to all social progress, by, as it were, cleansing Europe of the disgusting leprosy with which it was infected from head to foot, let us examine what it has done towards creating and erecting the magnificent edifice of European civilization. If we seriously reflect on the vitality and fruitfulness of this civilization, we shall find therein new and powerful claims on the part of the Catholic Church to the gratitude of nations. In the first place, it is proper to glance at the vast and interesting picture which European civilization presents to us, and to sum up in a few words its principal perfections; thereby we shall be enabled the more easily to account to ourselves for the admiration and enthusiasm with which it inspires us.

The individual animated by a lively sense of his own dignity, abounding in activity, perseverance, energy, and the simultaneous development of all his faculties; woman elevated to the rank of the consort of man, and, as it were, recompensed for the duty of obedience by the respectful regards lavished upon her; the gentleness and constancy of family ties, protected by the powerful guarantees of good order and justice; an admirable public conscience, rich in maxims of sublime morality, in laws of justice and equity, in sentiments of honor and dignity; a conscience which survives the shipwreck of private morality, and does not allow unblushing corruption to reach the height which it did in antiquity; a general mildness of manners, which in war prevents great excesses, and in peace renders life more tranquil and pleasing; a profound respect for man, and all that belongs to him, which makes private acts of violence very uncommon, and in all political constitutions serves as a salutary check on governments; an ardent desire of perfection in all departments; an irresistible tendency, sometimes ill-directed, but always active, to improve the condition of the many; a secret impulse to protect the weak, to succour the unfortunate--an impulse which sometimes pursues its course with generous ardor, and which, whenever it is unable to develop itself, remains in the heart of society, and produces there the uneasiness and disquietude of remorse; a cosmopolitan spirit of universality, of propagandism, an inexhaustible fund of resources to grow young again without danger of perishing, and for self-preservation in the most important junctures; a generous impatience, which longs to anticipate the future, and produces an incessant movement and agitation, sometimes dangerous, but which are generally the germs of great benefits, and the symptoms of a strong principle of life; such are the great characteristics which distinguish European civilization; such are the features which place it in a rank immensely superior to that of all other civilizations, ancient and modern.

Read the history of antiquity; extend your view over the whole world; wherever Christianity does not reign, and where the barbarous or savage life no longer prevails, you will find a civilization which in nothing resembles our own, and which cannot be compared with it for a moment. In some of these states of civilization, you will perhaps find a certain degree of regularity and some marks of power, for they have endured for centuries; but how have they endured? Without movement, without progress; they are devoid of life; their regularity and duration are those of a marble statue, which, motionless itself, sees the waves of generations pass by. There have also been nations whose civilization displayed motion and activity; but what motion and what activity? Some, ruled by the mercantile spirit, never succeeded in establishing their internal happiness on a firm basis; their only object was to invade new countries which tempted their cupidity, to pour into their colonies their superabundant population, and establish numerous factories in new lands: others, continually contending and fighting for a few measures of political freedom, forgot their social organization, took no care of their civil liberty, and acted in the narrowest circle of time and space; they would not be even worthy of having their names preserved for posterity, if the genius of the beautiful had not shone there with indescribable charm, and if the monuments of their knowledge, like a mirror, had not preserved the bright rays of Eastern learning: others, great and terrible, it is true, but troubled by intestine dissensions, bear inscribed upon their front the formidable destiny of conquest; this destiny they fulfilled by subjugating the world, and immediately their rapid and inevitable ruin approached: others, in fine, excited by violent fanaticism, raged like the waves of ocean in a storm; they threw themselves upon other nations like a devastating torrent, and threatened to involve Christian civilization itself in their deafening uproar; but their efforts were vain; their waves broke against insurmountable barriers; they repeated their attempts, but, always compelled to retire, they fell back again, and spread themselves on the beach with a sullen roar: and now look at the Eastern nations; behold them like an impure pool, which the heat of the sun is about to dry up; see the sons and successors of Mahomet and Omar on their knees at the feet of the European powers, begging a protection, which policy sometimes affords them, but only with disdain. Such is the picture presented to us by every civilization, ancient and modern, except that of Europe, that is, the Christian. It alone at once embraces every thing great and noble in the others; it alone survives the most thorough revolutions; it alone extends itself to all races and climates, and accommodates itself to forms of government the most various; it alone, in fine, unites itself with all kinds of institutions, whenever, by circulating in them its fertile sap, it can produce its sweet and salutary fruits for the good of humanity. And whence comes the immense superiority of European civilization over all others? How has it become so noble, so rich, so varied, so fruitful; with the stamp of dignity, of nobility, and of loftiness; without castes, without slaves, without eunuchs, without any of those miseries which prey upon other ancient and modern nations? It often happens that we Europeans complain and lament more than the most unfortunate portion of the human race ever did; and we forget that we are the privileged children of Providence, and that our evils, our share of the unavoidable patrimony of humanity, are very slight, are nothing in comparison with those which have been, and still are, suffered by other nations. Even the extent of our good fortune itself renders us difficult to please, and exceedingly fastidious. We are like a man of high rank, accustomed to live respected and esteemed in the midst of ease and pleasure, who is indignant at a slighting word, is filled with disquietude and affliction at the most trifling contradiction, and forgets the multitude of men who are plunged in misery, whose nakedness is covered with a few rags, and who meet with a thousand insults and refusals before they can obtain a morsel of bread to satisfy the cravings of hunger.

The mind, when contemplating European civilization, experiences so many different impressions, is attracted by so many objects that at the same time claim its attention and preference, that, charmed by the magnificent spectacle, it is dazzled, and knows not where to commence the examination. The best way in such a case is to simplify, to decompose the complex object, and reduce it to its simplest elements. The individual, the family, and society; these we have thoroughly to examine, and these ought to be the subjects of our inquiries. If we succeed in fully understanding these three elements, as they really are in themselves, and apart from the slight variations which do not affect their essence, European civilization, with all its riches and all its secrets, will be presented to our view, like a fertile and beautiful landscape lit up by the morning sun.

European civilization is in possession of the principal truths with respect to the individual, to the family, and to society; it is to this that it owes all that it is and all that it has. Nowhere have the true nature, the true relations and object of these three things been better understood than in Europe; with respect to them we have ideas, sentiments, and views which have been wanting in other civilizations. Now, these ideas and feelings, strongly marked on the face of European nations, have inoculated their laws, manners, institutions, customs, and language; they are inhaled with the air, for they have impregnated the whole atmosphere with their vivifying aroma. To what is this owing? To the fact, that Europe, for many centuries, has had within its bosom a powerful principle which preserves, propagates, and fructifies the truth; and it was especially in those times of difficulty, when the disorganized society had to assume a new form, that this regenerating principle had the greatest influence and ascendency. Time has passed away, great changes have taken place, Catholicity has undergone vast vicissitudes in its power and influence on society; but civilization, its work, was too strong to be easily destroyed; the impulse which had been given to Europe was too powerful and well secured to be easily diverted from its course. Europe was like a young man gifted with a strong constitution, and full of health and vigor; the excesses of labor or of dissipation reduce him and make him grow pale; but soon the hue of health returns to his countenance, and his limbs recover their suppleness and vigor.

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