at that period gained most ground, and in which they were put in practice, whilst in other countries they had already abandoned the field. I do not mean to say that the Italian Republics were a model worthy of being imitated by the other nations of Europe. I am well aware that these forms of government were attended with grave inconveniences; but since so much is said of spirit and tendencies, since the Catholic Church is reproached with her affinity to despotism, and the Popes with a taste for oppression, it is well to adduce those facts which may serve to throw some doubt upon certain authoritative assertions, adduced as so many philosophico-historical dogmas. If Italy preserved her independence in spite of the efforts of the Emperors of Germany to wrest it from her, she owed it in a great part to the firmness and energy of the Popes.

In order to comprehend fully the relations which Catholicism bears to political institutions, in order to ascertain what degree of affinity it bears to such and such forms, and to form a correct idea of the influence of Protestantism in this respect over European civilisation, we must examine carefully and in detail each of the elements claiming preponderance. When we examine them afterwards in their relations with each other, we will ascertain, as far as possible, where the truth lies in this shapeless mass. Every one of these three may be considered in two ways: 1. According to the ideas formed of them at the period we are speaking of; 2. According to the interests these elements represent, and the part they play in society. We must lay particular stress upon this distinction, without which we should expose ourselves to the commission of serious errors. In fact, the ideas which were entertained upon such or such principles of government did not coincide with the interest represented by this same element, and with the part it acted in society; and although it is clear that these two things must have had very close relations with each other, and could not be disengaged from a real and reciprocal influence, yet it is most certain that they differ considerably, and that this difference, the source of very various considerations, shews the subject in points of view quite dissimilar.

CHAPTER LVIII.

MONARCHY IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

THE idea of monarchy has ever existed in the bosom of European society, even at the time when the least use was made of it; and it is worthy of remark, that at the time when its energy was taken away, and it was destroyed in practice, it still retained its force in theory. We cannot say that our ancestors had any very fixed notions upon the nature of the object represented by this idea; nor can we wonder at it, since the continual variations and modifications which they witnessed must have prevented them from forming any very correct knowledge of it. Nevertheless, if we peruse the codes in places where monarchy is treated of, and if we consult the writings which have been preserved upon this matter, we shall find that their ideas on this point were more fixed than might have been imagined. By studying the manner of thinking of this period, we find that men in general were almost destitute of analytical knowledge, being more erudite than philosophical; so much so, that they scarcely ventured to express an idea without supporting it upon a multitude of authorities. This taste for erudition, which is visible at the first glance into their writings —a mere tissue of quotations—and which must have been very natural, since it was so general and lasting, had very advantageous results; not the least of which was the uniting of ancient with modern society, by the preservation of a great number of records and memorials, which, had it not been for this public taste, must have been destroyed, and by exhuming from the dust the remains of antiquity about to perish. But, on the other hand, it produced many evils; amongst others, a sort of stifling of thought, which could no longer indulge in its own inspirations, although they may have been more happy than the ancient ones on some points.

However it may be, such is the fact: on examining it in relation to the matter under discussion, we find that monarchy was represented at that time as one single picture, in which there appeared at the same time the kings of the Jews and the Roman emperors,

whose features had been corrected by the hand of Christianity. That is to say, the principles of monarchy were composed of the teachings of Scripture and the Roman codes. Seek every where the idea of emperor, king, or prince, you will always find the same thing, whether you look for the origin of power, its extent, its exercise, or its object. But what ideas were entertained of monarchy? what was the acceptation of this word? Taken in a general sense, abstractedly from the various modifications which a variety of circumstances gave to its signification, it meant, the supreme command over society, vested in the hands of one man, who was to exercise it according to reason and justice. This was the leading idea, the only one fixed, as a sort of pole, round which all other questions revolved. Did the monarch possess in himself the faculty of making laws without consulting general assemblies, which, under different names, represented the different classes of the kingdom? From the moment that we propose this question we come upon new ground. We have descended from theory to practice; we have brought our ideas into contact with the object to which they are to be applied. From that moment, we must allow, every thing vacillates and becomes obscure; a thousand incoherent, strange, and contradictory facts pass before our eyes; the parchments upon which are inscribed the rights, liberties, and laws of the people give rise to a variety of interpretations, which multiply doubts and increase difficulties. We see, in the first place, that the relations of the monarch with the subject, or, more properly speaking, the mode in which government should be exercised, was not very well defined. The confusion from which society was emerging was still felt, and was inevitable in an aggregation of heterogeneous bodies, in a combination of rival and hostile elements; that is, we discover an embryo, and consequently it is impossible as yet to find regular and welldefined forms.

Did this idea of monarchy contain any thing of despotism, any thing that subjected one man to the dominion of another by setting aside the eternal laws of reason and justice? No; from the moment that we touch upon this point we discover a new horizon, clear and transparent, upon which

objects present themselves distinctly, without a shade of dimness or obscurity. The answer of all writers is decisive: Rule ought to be conformable to reason and justice; if it is not, it is mere tyranny. So that the principle maintained by M. Guizot, in his Discours sur la Démocratie moderne, and in his History of Civilisation in Europe, viz. that the will alone does not constitute a right; that laws, to be laws, should accord with those of eternal reason, the only source of all legitimate power;—that this principle, I say, which we might imagine to be newly applied to society, is as ancient as the world. Acknowledged by ancient philosophers, developed, inculcated, and applied by Christianity, we find it in every page of jurists and theologians.

But we know what this principle was worth in the monarchies of antiquity, and also in our own days in countries where Christianity has not yet been established. Who, in such countries, presumes continually to remind kings of their obligation to be just? Observe, on the contrary, what is the case among Christians: the words 'reason' and 'justice' are constantly in the mouth of the subject, because he knows that no one has a right to treat him unreasonably or unjustly; and this he knows, because Christianity has impressed him with a profound idea of his own dignity, because it has accustomed him to look upon reason and justice, not as vain words, but as eternal characters engraven on the heart of man by the hand of God, perpetually reminding man that, although he is a frail creature, subject to error and to weakness, he is, nevertheless, stamped with the image of eternal truth and of immutable justice. If any one should question the truth of what I have advanced, it will suffice, to convince him, to remind him of the numerous texts previously cited in this work, and in which the most eminent Catholic writers bear testimony to their manner of thinking on the origin and faculties of civil power.

So much for ideas; as for facts, they vary according to times and countries. During the incursions of the barbarians, and so long as the feudal system prevailed, monarchy remained much beneath its typical idea; but during the course of the sixteenth century, matters assumed a dif

ferent aspect. In Germany, France, Eng- | land, and Spain, powerful monarchs were reigning, who filled the world with the fame of their names; in their presence aristocracy and democracy bowed with humility; or if by chance they ventured to raise their heads, it was only to suffer still greater degradation. The throne, it is true, had not yet attained that ascendency of power and importance which it acquired in the following century; but its destiny was irrevocably fixed-power and glory awaited it. Aristocracy and democracy might have laboured to take part in future events; but it would have been labour in vain for them to attempt to appropriate them. A fixed and powerful centre was essential to European society, and monarchy completely satisfied this imperative necessity. The people understood and felt it; hence we find them eagerly grasping at this saving principle, and placing themselves under the safeguard of the throne.

The question is not, therefore, whether or not the throne ought to exist, or whether it ought to preponderate over aristocracy and democracy; these two questions have been already resolved. At the commencement of the sixteenth century, its existence and preponderance were already necessary. The question to be resolved is, whether the throne ought so decisively to have prevailed, that the two elements, aristocracy and democracy, should be erased from the political world; whether the combination which had hitherto existed was still to exist; or, if these two elements should disappear, whether monarchical power should be absolute. The Church resisted royal power when it attempted to lay hands upon sacred things; but her zeal never carried her so far as to depreciate, in the eyes of the people, an authority which was so essential to them. On the contrary, besides continually giving to the power of kings a more solid basis, by her doctrines favourable to all legitimate authority, she endeavoured to give them a still more sacred character by the august ceremonies displayed at their coronations. The Church has been sometimes accused of anarchical tendencies, for having energetically struggled against the pretensions of sovereigns; by some, on the contrary, she has been reproached with favouring despotism, because she preached up to the people the

duty of obedience to the lawful authorities. If I mistake not, these accusations, so opposite to each other, prove that the Church has neither been adulatory nor anarchical; she has maintained the balance even, by telling the truth both to kings and their subjects.

Let the spirit of sectarianism seek, on all sides, historical facts, proving that the Popes have attempted to destroy civil monarchy by confiscating it to their own profit. But let us bear in mind what the Protestant Müller says, that the Father of the faithful was, during the barbarous ages, a tutor sent by God to the European nations; and let us not be astonished to find that differences have sometimes occurred between him and his pupils. To discover the intention which dictated these reproaches against the Court of Rome, relative to monarchy, we need only reflect upon the following question. All writers consider as a great benefit the creation of a strong central authority, and yet circumscribed within just limits, that it may not abuse its power; they laud to the skies every thing tending, directly or indirectly, among all the nations of Europe, to establish such an authority. Why, then, when speaking of the conduct of Popes, do they attribute to a pretended taste for despotism the support which they give to royal authority, whilst they qualify with anarchical usurpation their efforts to restrain, upon certain points, the faculties of sovereigns? The answer is not difficult. (34.)

CHAPTER LIX.

THE ARISTOCRACY OF THE SIXTEENTH
CENTURY.

THE aristocracy, as including the privileged portion of society, comprehended two classes very distinct in their origin and nature, the nobility and the clergy. Both abounded in power and riches; both were placed far above the people, and were important wheels in the political machine. There was, however, this remarkable difference between them, that the principal basis of the power and grandeur of the clergy was religious ideas— ideas which circulated throughout society, which animated it, gave it life, and consequently insured for a long time the preponderance of the ecclesiastical power; whilst

the grandeur and influence of the nobles rested solely upon a fact necessarily transient, viz. the social organisation of the epoch -an organisation which was becoming rapidly modified, since the people were then struggling to liberate themselves from the bonds of feudalism. I do not mean, that the nobles did not possess legitimate rights to the power and influence which they exercised; but merely that the principal portion of these rights, even supposing them founded upon the most just laws and titles, were not necessarily connected with any of the great conservative principles of society-those principles which invest with an immense force and ascendency the person or class which in any way represents them. But we touch here upon a subject little investigated, and upon the explanation of which depends the comprehension of great social facts. It is well, therefore, to develope it fully, and to examine it attentively.

Of what was monarchy the representative? Of a principle eminently conservative of society. a principle which has withstood all the attacks of theories and revolutions, and to which have been attached, as the only anchor of safety, those very nations in the bosom of which democratical ideas were diffused, and in which liberal institutions originated. This is one of the causes why monarchy, even in its most calamitous times, triumphed over its disasters. Feudal pride, and the unsettled state of the times, with the agitation of rising democracy, united to oppress it; scarcely was its power distinguishable amid the troubled waves of society, like the broken mast of a shipwrecked vessel. But, even at this time, we find the ideas of force and power bound to those of monarchy. Regal dignity was trampled under foot and outraged in various ways, but still held sacred and recognised as inviolable. Theory was not in accordance with practice; the idea was more forcible than the fact which it expressed but we need not be astonished at this phenomenon, since such is always the character of ideas producing great changes. They are, at first, merely visible in society; they spread, take root, and penetrate into all institutions; time continues to prepare the way; and if the idea is just and moral, if it point to the satisfaction of a want, the moment at length comes in which facts give

way, the idea triumphs, and bends and humbles all before it. This was the case, in the sixteenth century, with regard to monarchy; under one form or another, with greater or less modifications, it was actually essential to the people, as it is still; and for this reason it naturally prevailed over all its adversaries, and survived all.

With respect to the clergy, we need not attempt to shew that they were the representatives of the religious principle—a real social necessity for all the nations of the earth, when taken in its general sense; and a real social necessity for the nations of Europe, when taken in its Christian sense.

We have already seen that the nobility could not be compared either to monarchy or to the clergy, since they were destitute of the high principles represented by each of these bodies. Extensive privileges, and the ancient possession of great estates, with the guarantee of the laws and customs of the time; glorious traditions of military feats, pompous names, titles, and escutcheons of illustrious ancestors; such were the insignia of the lay aristocracy. But nothing of all this had any direct and essential relation with the great wants of society. The nobility depended upon a particular organisation, necessarily transient; they were too nearly allied to a law purely positive and human, to be able to reckon upon a long duration, or to flatter themselves with success in all their pretensions and exigencies. It will be objected, perhaps, that the existence of an intermediate class between the monarch and the people is an essential necessity, acknowledged by all publicists, and founded upon the very nature of things. In fact, we have seen that in nations from which the ancient aristocracy has disappeared, a new one has been formed, either by the course of events or by the action of governments. But this objection is not applicable to the question in the point of view under which I consider it. I do not deny the necessity of an intermediate class; I merely affirm that the ancient nobility, such as it was, did not contain elements to insure its duration, since it was liable to be replaced by another, as it has been in effect. The classes of the laity acquire their political and social importance from a superiority of intellect and force; this superiority no longer existing in

the nobility, its fall was inevitable. At the beginning of the sixteenth century the throne and the people daily acquired a greater ascendency; the former became the centre of all social forces, and the people were being constantly enriched by industry and commerce. With regard to learning, the discovery of printing, as it became general, prevented it from being henceforth the exclusive patrimony of any particular class.

It was evident, therefore, that the nobility perceived, at this epoch, their ancient power escaping, and possessed no other means of preserving a part of it than to struggle to preserve the titles which it had given them. Unfortunately for them, their wealth was daily decreasing, not only from the dilapidations occasioned by luxury, but also from the extraordinary increase of non-territorial riches; the profound changes wrought in the value of every thing by means of the re-organisation of society and the discovery of America caused immovable property to lose much of its importance. If the force of landed property was gradually diminishing, the rights of jurisdiction were marching still more rapidly towards their ruin. On one hand, these rights were opposed by the power of kings, and, on the other, by municipalities and other centres of action possessed by the popular element; so that, in spite of the most profound respect for acquired rights, and merely by allowing things to take their ordinary course, the ancient nobility was inevitably sunk to that point of depression in which it now exists. This could not happen to the clergy. Despoiled of their wealth, entirely or partially deprived of their privileges, there still remained for them the ministry of religion. No one could exercise this ministry without them; which was sufficient to insure them great influence in spite of all commotions and changes.

CHAPTER LX.

ON DEMOCRACY.

SUCH was the situation of Europe during the centuries preceding the sixteenth, that it appears difficult to find for democracy a welldefined place in political theories. Stifled by the established powers, deprived as yet of

the resources which, in time, gave it the ascendency, it was natural it should be almost unobserved by politicians. It was in reality very feeble; and it was not, therefore, surprising that, owing to the influence of reality over ideas, theorists should regard the people merely as an abject portion of society, unworthy of honours or happiness, and fit only to labour and to serve. It is, however, worthy of remark, that ideas from that time took a new direction; it may even be affirmed that they were infinitely more elevated and more generous than the facts. This is one of the most convincing proofs of the intellectual development that Christianity had operated amongst men-one of the most unexceptionable testimonies in favour of that profound sentiment of reason and justice which it had deposited in the heart of society. Now these elements were not to be stifled by events the most unfavourable, nor by the rudest shocks; for they were supported upon the very dogmas of religion, which still remain firm, in spite of all commotion, as an immovable axis remains fixed in the midst of broken machinery.

In perusing the writings of this epoch, we find established, as an indubitable fact, the right of the people to the administration of justice: they were not to be irritated by any vexatious regulations; the public imposts were to be equally divided; no one was to be forced to do any thing contrary to reason or the well-being of society: that is to say, these writers acknowledged and established all those principles upon which were to be based the laws and customs destined one day to produce civil liberty. This is so true, that, in proportion as circumstances permitted, these principles were rapidly and extensively developed; vast and numerous applications were immediately made of them; and civil liberty took such deep root among the people of modern Europe, that it has never been erased from their bosoms, and we see it preserved in forms of absolute government as well as in the mixed forms.

To complete my demonstration, that the ideas in favour of the people proceeded from Christianity, I will adduce a reason which appears to me decisive. The philosophy adopted by the schools of that period was that of Aristotle. Aristotle's authority was of great weight; he was called by an autono