Part 2

I feel a profound respect for the Catholic Church. She has been during centuries the Christian Church of all Europe. She is the great Christian Church of France. I look upon her dignity, her liberty, her moral authority, as essential to the fate of entire Christianity; and did I believe that the Catholic church could not, without self-abjuration, accept in the State the principle of religious liberty, I should be silent; for above all things I detest hypocrisy and subtlety. _But it is not so_.

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Let the Catholic Church maintain fully her fundamental principles, her permanent inspiration, her doctrinal infallibility, her unity. Let her by her laws and internal discipline interdict to her faithful followers all that may tend to the injury of these; it is her right as well as her faith. But let her at the same time fully admit, not of the separation of the Church and State, that clumsy expedient which lowers and weakens both under the pretext of freeing both, but of the separation of spiritual and temporal order, of the civil and religious state, and acknowledge the illegality of all forcible interference in spiritual order, albeit in the cause of truth. Let her thus accept religious liberty as a law, not of religious society, but of policy, as a right not of the Christian, but of the citizen. At once will the pretended incompatibility between modern society and the Catholic Church disappear. The problem of peace between civil and religious society will be solved.

The Catholic Church can pursue this course; for all that religiously constitutes it, all her spiritual order thus remains intact and independent: and if she so pursues it; if, while she firmly upholds her principles and rights as a religious society, she accepts loyally the principles of our political order and the religious liberty which forms a part of it; not only will she lay the foundation of peace between herself and civil society, but she will assure to herself great strength and a great future. {21} Christianity has many conquests to make and to repeat. For the re-establishment of social order and the moral welfare of the soul, she must regain much ground. Nor is it known how rapidly obstacles and resistance would disappear before her, if the dread of her old intolerance were dispelled, and respect for religious liberty on the part of the Catholic Church herself considered as assured.

I would go still further, and submit to Christians another consideration.

There is amongst Christians of whatever church a common faith. They believe in a divine revelation contained in the gospels, and in Jesus Christ who came upon earth to save the world.

For Christians of whatever church there is now a common cause. They have to maintain Christian faith and law against impiety and anarchy.

This faith and this necessity, common to all Christians, are of infinitely greater moment than all the differences which separate them.

Do I say that they ought at all hazards to set aside those differences, and in the name of their common faith and common danger undergo fusion,--to use an expression of the day,--and form hereafter but one and the same church?

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I do not dream of it. The re-establishment of unity in the bosom of Christianity by the re-union of all Christian churches, has been the desire and the endeavour of the greatest minds, both Catholic and Protestant. Bossuet and Leibnitz have attempted it. Even now the idea is present to many noble spirits, and pious bishops have so expressed it to me, with a confidence by which I feel profoundly honoured. I respect the sympathetic wish, but I do not believe that it can be realised. Between temporal order and human interests, fusion, difficult as it may be, is always possible; for interests may be made to agree through the force and in the name of necessity. In spiritual order and between religious beliefs, no such agreement is possible, for necessity can never become truth. Faith does not admit of fusion; she insists on unity.

But where the unity of the church does not exist, when the fusion of different churches is impossible, and when religious liberty is established, there is room for practical good sense and Christian charity. Good sense tells Christians that they are all in front of the same enemy, much more dangerous to them than they can be to each other; for should he triumph, the blow will fall on each. Amongst the upper classes, the war against religion manifests itself only under the forms of reserved scepticism or rationalism; timid, often serious and polite, rather seeking to screen than display itself. But at the bottom of society, and amidst the masses, it is passionate impiety which is at work, and for the sake of victory becomes subservient to the most gross and furious interests. The Christian faith, in its essential and vital character, that is, faith and submission to supernatural Christian order, is alone capable of sustaining the contest. {23} Let Christians, whether Catholic or Protestant, be convinced of it, the loss of credit and authority on either side would redound to the advantage not of Protestantism or Catholicism, but of impiety. It is then for all Christians, whatever their differences in their Christian sphere, an obvious interest and imperative duty to accept and maintain each other as natural allies against anti-christian impiety. It will require all their strength, all their united efforts, to triumph finally in this warfare, and save at once Christianity and society.

What interest dictates to Christians, Christian charity commands. I use without hesitation plain words to express the ideas and sentiments which I feel, and even amidst the coldness of heart which is one of the most melancholy evils of my day, I feel no embarrassment in speaking to Christians of Christian charity.

When religious struggles are the ruling passion and great practical business of an epoch,--when different creeds are arrayed, wielding temporal as well as spiritual arms, with the mutual hope of subjecting if not of extirpating,--I feel that Christian charity is difficult to exercise. The temptations are too strong, the interests too pressing to be surmounted. The Chancellor De L'Hopital and the President De Thou, though recommending peace to Catholics and Protestants, would hardly have dreamt, on the eve or the morrow of a massacre or a battle, of speaking to them of charity.

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But when material strife has ceased, when religious liberty is established in manners as well as in the laws, when in fact and truth the different religious creeds are obliged to live peaceably one with another, why should not the desire arise of adorning and furthering peace by the exercise of charity? When the coarser passions are powerless, why should not the more mild and equitable feelings develope themselves? I know the force of traditions, of recollections, as well as the permanent differences which tend to support controversy, even when purely speculative. Nevertheless, prolonged peace and freedom have much influence in calming the soul. At this day we have before us a signal instance, and I do not hesitate to repeat that to which I gave utterance in the Bible Society:--"See what is passing in England; there, doubtless, the irritation of the Protestants is great, there is a general and passionate movement in favour of a popular and powerful faith. The government itself associates with and follows this movement. English Protestantism shows itself strongly inclined to seek security and satisfaction at the expense of the religious liberty of the Catholics. Well! although matters wear this appearance, nothing is really done; they dare not; they cannot; and in the bottom of their hearts they desire not to do so. Amidst this Protestant excitement, the religious liberty of English Catholics still remains and extends. They have liberty of worship; their churches are open, nay, increasing in number; their priests perform their duties without interruption: they possess the liberty of the press; they publicly defend their creed and their conduct, and have freedom of speech and power of voting in parliament, where they strenuously uphold their cause." {25} A noble sight, which, after having justly filled the friends of religious liberty with uneasiness, ought now to give them every satisfaction. The spirit of persecution had reappeared, that of justice and liberty met it face to face, and in spite of appearances remained master of the field. May Christians, Catholic and Protestant, at last acknowledge it; it will be hereafter more natural than they imagine, to live in the exercise of Christian charity, for they have lost the habit, almost the power of efficacious oppression.

A few words more, and I have done. Under a well grounded and well understood system of religious freedom, not only can different religious sects live peacefully and harmoniously together, but can contribute, by their pacific co-existence, to their mutual religious prosperity. What has been for Catholicism in France one of the most glorious and pious periods? Surely, the seventeenth century. French Catholicism then flourished in the presence of Protestantism, which was still tolerated, and Jansenism, then in full vigour. What has prevented the Anglican church from falling into that apathy which has appeared more than once ready to overcome her? What but the neighbourhood of opposing and half free sects, who have always kept her in play, and forced her to overcome her langour? There is no establishment, no power, that is not benefited by a sense of control, and by the necessity of making an effort to maintain its position. {26} It is good to overcome, not to exterminate an enemy; and in spiritual as in temporal orders, the reign of liberty bestows on all their just rewards. While it preserves their rights to the weak, it incessantly regenerates the victorious.

Doubtless, Catholicism leans on the principle of authority; but without detaching itself from this base, it can admit, and in the course of its career has often admitted, very different degrees of liberty. From the eleventh to the fourteenth century, while the Catholic church was for civil society a great school of authority, she was in her own bosom a great theatre of freedom. For in her councils, her congregations, her correspondence with the faithful, discussion between her chiefs was ever open and animated. It is not for me to ask whether our times advise or warrant a return to such methods of government; and I am rather disposed to hesitate than undertake the task. But one great fact strikes me; one which deserves, if I mistake not, the entire attention of the Catholic clergy: it is that the disposition of the mind and heart of the faithful who are under their charge is not always the same, and neither the same measure nor the same quality of religious nutriment is requisite at all times, if I may so speak, for Christian souls. After the fall of the Roman empire, when the mission of the Catholic clergy was to convert the barbarians, and to cause a little moral light to penetrate amongst the rude conquerors, and the miserable population who lived under their yoke, it was above all by the firm and striking exercise of religious authority that the priests were enabled to attain their end. {27} They found amongst the Christian population, high and low, many passions to repress, and but few intellectual wants to satisfy. There was greater need to strike and to govern the imagination than to nourish and direct mental activity. Time and individuals are now different. Minds are now active, varied, curious, eager. The spiritual life of faithful Christians, of the most faithful as well as the most wavering, is infinitely more animated than it was formerly. Souls so disposed require a moral rule proportionably animated; one which, while it guides, may give to their innate activity a greater share of satisfaction. I am expressing a profound conviction,--one, I will venture to say, free from any reservation or ill-will,--when I say that henceforth the Catholic church, without any sacrifice of authority, will be obliged, for the government of the soul, to admit of more intellectual and spontaneous movement on the part of the faithful than was required in other times. Yet I am convinced that when once the Catholic church shall herself have acknowledged this new moral state of Christian society, she will also know how to provide for it.

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In a recent publication, [Footnote 1] a justly eminent stranger, M. Donoso Cortes, speaking of me in terms which I cannot allow myself to repeat, said, "The great mistake into which M. Guizot has fallen, in his 'History of European Civilization,' is the having attempted the impossible task of explaining visible things by visible things, natural things by natural things; which is as superfluous as to explain a fact by itself, a thing by the thing itself; because all visible and natural things, considered as visible and natural, are one and the same thing."

[Footnote 1: Essai sur le Catholicisme, le Liberalisme, et le Socialisme, par M. Donoso Cortes, Marquis de Valdegamas, p. 99-105.]

M. Donoso Cortes will be convinced, I hope, that such is not my idea; and that, far from resting satisfied with visible and natural things, I believe in supernatural order, and in its necessity to explain and govern the world. Philosophers, I think, will on their side acknowledge that if I reject their doctrine, I do not abandon their right. I do not say this with the view of seeking the frivolous honour of maintaining at the same time two great causes, but to affirm a double truth to which I yield my entire conviction and devotion, Christian faith and religious freedom. The welfare of all nations demands these as its price.

Guizot.

Val Richer, September, 1851.

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Essay I.

On The State Of Men's Souls.

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On The State Of Men's Souls. (_October_, 1838.)

The sublimity of the gospel consists in two sentiments, which manifest themselves in it simultaneously,--hatred of evil, and tenderness for man who does evil; horror of sin, to speak as the gospel speaks, and love of the sinner.

How profound a depth of judgment as well as of moral justice! How admirable a knowledge of things as well as of men! For evil is truly hateful both in itself and in its effects; and men, the best of men, are surcharged with evil. Yet, at the same time, man is infinitely capable of good, infinitely worthy of affection; and with all his imperfections, a being to be loved beyond expression.

How great, too, the knowledge displayed of the true conditions of moral authority! It is not acquaintance with the nature of man, but power over him, that the Gospel seeks. Yet to influence men morally, it is needful both to love and reform them; to win their confidence by love and their respect by severity. {32} Severity and love are the two engines wherewith to control the heart of man, for men know by instinct their moral wants--those which press them down as well as those which please them. They are deeply troubled by the sense of their imperfections; they wish to be raised. Love felt and inspired is at once their noblest and their most lively joy; they desire to love and be beloved. Complete control over them, I mean moral control, involves these two conditions,--that much be required from them of virtue, much be bestowed on them of love.

The last century had thus much good; it loved mankind and men. It bore a really deep affection to them, and wished them well. But as it was a critical and reasoning age, the sentiment of love often disguised itself in the dress and shape of controversy and analysis. Nevertheless, the feeling was there, sincere and powerful. That spirit of universal justice and humanity which characterized the epoch, whence did it spring if not from a lively sympathy with man, and a tender interest in his welfare?

But, together with this virtue, the last century certainly exhibited one great defect; it did not feel for evil the aversion it deserves. Not only as regarded certain rules of conduct and certain duties, but as concerned a rule in general and the very principle of duty, the spirits of the day were victims to doubt, that great corrupter of the human heart. In the moral system, stability and elevation go together; to waver is to descend; uncertainty is the sign and the cause of abasement. Not knowing where the evil existed, or even if it did exist, the eighteenth century denied or excused it when met with, instead of execrating and opposing it to the utmost.

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And with the fixed points the long perspectives disappeared. By an admirable law of his nature, in order that man may hope he must believe, and believe in good. Virtue alone demands an eternity. Doubting about duty, they doubted their own future. Moral faith tottered; God veiled his countenance.

In such a state of mind, in an age which loved man and interested itself about him, man must have been an object of pity. What a destiny was that of a creature thus powerful yet faltering; always in motion, yet not knowing where to fix his foot firmly in this world, or where to fix his gaze beyond it! To aspire so high, in order to fall low and pass away so quickly! Such ambition without a worthy object! Such labour without any sure results! What father, if he thought his child were reserved for such a lot, but would feel overwhelmed by compassion and grief?

But no! at the same time that the last century loved men it admired them; and I can understand this. God and duty being abandoned, what remains of great and good if it be not man? Imperfect as is human nature, a mixture of good and evil, good is found there; the power of good makes itself felt. All that it possesses of what is elevated, rich, tender, or attractive, does not necessarily vanish because the mind misunderstands its source and government. {34} And if it should happen, as it then did, that these great mental errors should occur in the midst of a period of great intellectual developement, of a great outflowing of sympathetic and noble sentiments, of a great march in the condition of mankind; if, at the moment when man rises highest and shines with most brilliancy, he loses sight of his compass, his God, how can he do otherwise than admire himself? how avoid a feeling of pride? He has no longer faith or hope on high, yet he advances, prospers, becomes rich, triumphs. He must believe; he must hope in himself; he must worship himself. Does religion fall? Then idolatry must arise, the idolatry of man for man. Man was the god of the eighteenth century, the object of worship as well as of love. Thence a great and deplorable leaning to human nature, to its weaknesses and inclinations. It was loved, but with a blind and weak love, which could only approve, caress, and promise, having nothing to advise, nothing to require.

Thence an immoderate thirst, in the name of and for man, of immediate worldly and palpable happiness. Loving man truly, and having nothing to offer him in this world superior to this world's happiness, nothing better or eternal beyond, it was necessary that men should be happy, that all should be happy here below; as here below their destiny and their treasure were contained. {35} To accept the imperfect condition of humanity may be the part of selfishness which cares for nothing, and of faith which hopes for everything; but he who loves men, and yet can only dispose in their favour the blessings of this life and this world, cannot resign himself to a lot for the most part so rude, to progress so slow and always so incomplete. He is compelled to find much more to bestow on men, to distribute something, and at once, to all. And as spirits imbued with so noble a longing do not dream of the impossibility of satisfying it, they are compelled to assign to the sufferings and hardships of the human state an accidental and factitious cause, one which human wisdom and power can overcome. Hence the other maxim of the last century, that, left to themselves and their natural equilibrium, men and things go on well; that evil proceeds not from our innate nature and state, but merely from the ill regulated state of society, where the few have substituted their will and interest for the wills and interests of the many; that it is society and not men that need reformation, as the latter would not need it had not society corrupted him.

A maxim which has given rise, and naturally, to the sorest and most plausible of modern grievances, that incurable impatience of whatever is, that boundless disquiet, that insatiable thirst for change in the pursuit of a social condition which shall give at last to man, to every man, all the happiness to which he aspires.

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This is the state in which the eighteenth century has placed men's souls. And I here speak of upright, honest, and sincere minds, not carried away by selfishness, not domineered over by evil passions, which think of others, and only wish for themselves as well as for those others what they consider legitimate.

The great mistakes and ills of any epoch are those of the good. These must be looked to and provided against, for there lies the hidden danger. Who can struggle against ill if the good are themselves infected with it?

I have seen the last of the master spirits of the eighteenth century--those who had remained faithful to it. I have seen them emerging from our revolution after their fearful experience of it. The condition of their minds was a touching and instructive spectacle. They were sorrowful, but not discouraged; full of esteem and affection for mankind; full of confidence and hope despite so many mistakes and reverses. The same fertility of wit, the same generosity of heart, the same spirit of justice and progress animated them. They accounted for their momentary failure by the violence of passion, the force of old habits, the want of public intelligence, the too hasty application of good principles carried to too great a length. And while their explanation bore witness to their sincerity and perseverance, still there was visible and perceptible in them at every step a persistance in the same mistakes; the same absence of moral dogma and religious faith; the same idolatry of man, the same tenderness towards him, the same pretensions for him. They had lost nothing of their noble ambition or tender sympathy for human nature, but they had learned nothing of its inward laws nor of the true methods for its government.

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Thus a secret feeling of disquiet was apparent through the constancy of their ideas and of their hope; and they remained melancholy after their explanation, as if hardly satisfied with it themselves.

We are far in advance of our fathers. "I was carried here by a cannon shot," said Danton to M. de Talleyrand, who saw him at the Ministere de la Justice. The same shot has carried us all a hundred leagues from our cradle. We have learnt much. We have seen novel appearances under a new light. The intelligence and power of man; his reason, his morality, his power of action, and resistance to direction and restraint in the affairs of the world; all has been put to the proof, gauged, and measured. We know how deeply seated and closely hidden is the evil in our nature, yet how readily and terribly it occasionally breaks out. We know the bounds both of our spirit and of our will. We have been powerful, immensely powerful; and yet we have been unable to accomplish our will because it was in opposition to the laws of eternal wisdom, and our power was shivered against them like glass. At this price, we have acquired a more accurate and profound knowledge of ourselves and our condition. We no longer put ourselves off with desires or arguments, appearances or hopes. We see that which is. We live more than our fathers did in the truth. We are wiser and more modest.

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