CHAPTER LXII.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MONARCHY IN EUROPE.

A single glance at the state of Europe in the fifteenth century enables us to discover that such a state of things could not long exist, and that of the three elements claiming preference, the monarchical must necessarily prevail. And it could not be otherwise; for we have always seen that societies, after a long period of trouble and agitation, place themselves at last under the protection of that power which offers them the greatest security and well-being. Beholding, on the one hand, those great feudatories, so proud, so exacting, so turbulent, enemies to each other, and rivals of the king as well as of the people; on the other hand, the commons, whose existence appears under so many different forms--whose rights, privileges, _fueros_ and liberties present so various and complex an aspect--whose ideas have no constant and well defined direction;--we conclude at once, that neither were possessed of sufficient force to struggle against the royal power, already acting by a fixed plan and a determinate system, seizing every opportunity which might serve to forward its views. Who is not aware of the sagacity displayed by Ferdinand the Catholic in developing and implanting his prominent idea--that of centralizing power, giving it vigor, and rendering its action forcible and universal; that is, the idea of founding a true monarchy? And why not acknowledge in the immortal Ximenes a worthy and more eminent continuator of this policy? It would be erroneous to consider this as an evil to nations. All publicists agree that it was necessary to give strength and stability to power, and prevent its action from becoming weak or intermittent; but the only representative of real power at that time was the throne. Hence, to fortify and aggrandize royal power was of real necessity; all plans and efforts of man would have failed to place an obstacle in its way. But it remains, nevertheless, to be seen, whether this aggrandizement of royal power outstepped its due bounds; and this is the place for contrasting Protestantism with Catholicity, that we may ascertain which of them was culpable, if either, and to what extent. This is a very important and curious subject, but at the same time one of difficulty and delicacy. In fact, such a change has taken place of late in the meaning of words, the aversion which parties profess for each other is so profound, each one repels with such impetuosity every thing which bears the most remote resemblance to what is esteemed by his adversaries, that it is an arduous undertaking to render the state of the question and the meaning of words comprehensible. I ask one thing of my readers of all opinions; that is, that they will suspend their judgment until they have read the whole of what I have to adduce on this point. If they consent to this, and do not quarrel with the first word that shocks them--in a word, if they have sufficient patience to hear before they judge, I am confident that, if we do not altogether agree, which is impossible amid such a variety of opinions, they will at least grant that I have taken an apparently reasonable view of the subject, and that my conjectures are not altogether unfounded.

I shall commence, in the first place, by completely laying aside the question whether it was advantageous or not to society that, in the greatest part of European monarchies, royal power should have any other limits than those naturally imposed upon it by the state of ideas and customs. This question some will answer in the affirmative, others in the negative; and I need not observe to what party they respectively belong. To many people the word _liberty_ is a scandal, just as the term absolute power is with others synonymous with despotism. But what is that liberty which the former repel with so much force? what meaning is attached to this word in their dictionaries? They have witnessed the French Revolution, with its iniquities and frightful crimes, and they have heard it continually crying out for liberty: they have witnessed the Spanish Revolution, with its vociferations of death, and its sanguinary excesses--its injustice, its disdain for every thing that Spaniards had been accustomed to esteem the most valuable and sacred; and yet they have heard the cries of this Revolution also for _liberty_. What was to be expected? Why, what we now witness. They confounded the name of liberty with all sorts of impieties and crimes; and, in consequence, they hated it, they repelled it, they fought against it sword in hand. In vain were they informed that the cortes was an ancient institution; they replied, that the ancient cortes was not like that of their times. In vain were they reminded that our laws ordained the nation's right of interference by its vote on the levying of taxes. They replied: "We are well aware of it; but the nation is not now represented by those who interfere in its affairs; they only avail themselves of this pretended title to enslave both the king and the people." They were told that the representatives of the different classes had formerly the right of intervention in the important affairs of the state. "What class do you represent," they replied; "you who degrade the monarch, insult and persecute the nobility, abuse and plunder the clergy, despising the people, and making their customs and their religious belief a subject for your sneers? What, then, do you represent? Is it the Spanish nation, when you trample on her religion and laws, when you excite social dissolution on all sides, and make blood flow in torrents? How can you call yourselves the restorers of our fundamental laws, when we find nothing either in you or in your acts which marks the true Spaniard; when all your theories, plans, and projects are only miserable copies of foreign books but too well known, while you have forgotten your own language?"

I pray the reader will cast his eyes over the files of the journals, the bulletins of the cortes, and other documents that remain of the two epochs of 1812 and 1820; let him also call to mind the events we have recently witnessed; let him afterwards peruse the records and memorials of anterior epochs,--our codes, our books, every thing, in fine, capable of throwing light upon the character, the ideas, and the customs of the Spanish people; then let him lay his hand upon his heart, and, whatever be his political opinions, let him tell us, upon his honor, if he finds the least resemblance between the past and the present; if he does not, at the very first glance, perceive a striking and violent contrast between the two epochs--a chasm, in fact, to fill up which, I say it with grief, would require heaps of fresh ruins, ashes, dead bodies, and torrents of blood. Were we to place the question beyond the influence of the empoisoned atmosphere of human passions and of bitter recollections, we might, it is true, very well examine the expediency of allowing the royal authority to attain to a growth that set it free from every kind of check or restraint, even in affairs of the most essential importance and in the voting of the government supplies. The question would then have merely a historico-political aspect, could not be confounded with actual practice, and, consequently, would not affect either the interests or the opinions of our time. However that might be, I will not stop to consider or to notice what has been thought and said upon the subject, but will take up the hypothesis, that the disappearance from the body politic, at that time, of every element save the monarchical, was a misfortune to the people, and an obstacle to the progress of true civilization. And whose was the fault? let me ask.

It is remarkable that the greatest increase of royal power in Europe dates precisely from the commencement of Protestantism. In England, from the time of Henry VIII., not only did monarchy prevail, but a despotism so cruel that no vain appearances of impotent forms have availed to disguise its excesses. In France, after the Huguenot war, royal power became more absolute than ever; in Sweden, Gustavus ascended the throne, and from that time kings began to exercise an almost unlimited power; in Denmark, monarchy continued, and became stronger; in Germany, the kingdom of Prussia was formed, and absolute forms generally prevailed; in Austria, the empire of Charles V. arose in all its power and splendor; in Italy, the small republics were fast disappearing, and the people, under some title or another, became subject to princes; in Spain, in fine, the ancient cortes of Castile, Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia fell into disuse: that is to say, instead of seeing, by the accession of Protestantism, the people take one step towards representative forms, we find, on the contrary, that they rapidly advanced towards absolute government. This is a certain, incontestable fact. Sufficient attention has not perhaps been paid to so singular a coincidence; but it is not the less real, and is certainly of a nature to suggest numerous and interesting reflections. Was this coincidence purely accidental? Was there any hidden connection between Protestantism and the development and definitive establishment of absolutism? I think there was; and I will even add, that, had Catholicism retained an exclusive sway in Europe, the power of the throne would have been gradually diminished--that representative forms would probably not have disappeared altogether--that the people would have continued to take part in national affairs--that we should have been much farther advanced in civilization, much better fitted for the enjoyment of true liberty--and that this liberty would not be associated in our minds with scenes of horror. Yes, the fatal Reformation has given a wrong direction to European society, injured civilization, created necessities that previously had no existence, and opened chasms which it cannot close. It destroyed many elements of good, and consequently produced a radical change in the conditions of the political problem. This I think I can demonstrate.