Protestantism and Catholicity

In the second place, Are we to obey the civil power when it interferes in matters not included in the circle of its faculties? No; for, with regard to these matters, it is not a power. From the very supposition that its faculties do not extend so far, we affirm that, in this point of view, it is not a real power. Besides, what I have advanced does not exactly and exclusively concern spiritual matters, to which I appear to allude. I apply this restriction of civil power also to matters purely temporal. It is necessary to refer here to what I have said in another part of this work, viz., that whilst we grant to civil power sufficient force and attributes for the maintenance of order and unity in the social body, it is just nevertheless, that we should not allow it to absorb the individual and the family, so as to destroy their individuality, to deprive them of their own sphere, and leave them only the means of acting as an integral part of society. This is one of the distinguishing features between Christian and pagan civilisation: the latter, in its zeal for the preservation of social unity, excluded every individual and family right; the former, on the contrary, has amalgamated the interests of the individual with those of families and society, so that they neither destroy nor embarrass each other. Thus, besides the sphere within which the action of the civil power is properly confined, there are others into which it has no right to enter, and in which individuals and families live without clashing with the colossal force of the government.

It is just to observe here, that Catholicity has done much for the maintenance of this principle, which is a strong guarantee of the liberty of the people. The separation of the two powers temporal and spiritual, the independence of the latter with respect to the former, the distinction of the persons in whom it is vested: such has been one of the principal causes of this liberty, which, under different forms of government, is the common inheritance of European nations. Ever since the foundation of the Church, this principle of the independence of the spiritual power has at all times served, by the mere fact of its existence, to remind men that the rights of civil power are limited, that there are things beyond its province, cases in which a man may say, and ought to say, I will not obey.

This is another of those cases in which Protestantism has given a wrong direction to the civilisation of Europe, and in which, far from opening the way to liberty, it has riveted the chains of slavery. Its first step was the abolition of the Pontifical authority, the overthrow of the hierarchy, the refusal to grant to the Church any kind of power whatever, and the placing of spiritual supremacy in the hands of princes; that is to say, it has retrograded towards pagan civilisation, in which we find the sceptre united with the pontificate. The grand political problem was precisely the separation of these two powers, in order to save society from subjection to one sole unlimited authority, exercising its faculties without restraint, and from which might consequently be expected vexation and oppression. This separation was effected without any political views, any fixed design on the part of men, wherever Catholicity was established; for her discipline required and her dogmas inculcated it. Is it not strange that the advocates of theories of equilibrium and counterpoise, who have so loudly extolled the utility of separating powers, and of dividing authority among them with a view to prevent it from being converted into tyranny, should not have noticed the profound wisdom of this Catholic doctrine, even when considered merely in a social and political point of view? But no; it is remarkable, on the contrary, that all modern revolutions have manifested a decided tendency towards the amalgamation of the civil and ecclesiastical powers – a convincing proof that these revolutions have proceeded from an origin contrary to the generative principle of European civilisation, and that instead of guiding it towards perfection, they have rather served to lead it astray. The union of Church and State in England, under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, produced the most cruel despotism; and if that country at a later period acquired a higher degree of liberty, it was not assuredly owing to that religious authority given by Protestantism to the head of the state, but in spite of it. It is worthy of remark, that in later times, when England entered upon a more extensive sphere of liberty, it was owing to the diminution of the civil power on all matters appertaining to religion, and to a greater development of Catholicity, opposed in its very principles to this monstrous supremacy. In the North of Europe, where the Protestant system has also prevailed, civil authority has been unlimited; and even at the present time, we find the Emperor of Russia indulging in the most barbarous persecutions against Catholics; more distrustful of those who defend the independence of spiritual power, than of the revolutionary clubs. The autocrat is devoured with a thirst for unlimited authority, and a decided instinct urges him to attack in particular the Catholic religion, which forms his principal obstacle.

It is remarkable with what uniformity all power, in this respect, tends to despotism, whether under a revolutionary or monarchical form. Impatient of the restraint laid upon him by the spiritual power, Louis XIV. attempted to crush the power of Rome. He was urged to it by the same motives as the Constituent Assembly; the monarch rested his cause upon the rights of royalty, and the liberties of the Gallican Church – the Constituent Assembly invoked the rights of the nation, and the principles of philosophy; but in the main they were actuated by one and the same motive, that of ascertaining whether or not civil power should be restricted: in the former case, it was monarchy tending to despotism; in the latter, democracy advancing to the terrors of the Convention. When Napoleon wished to bruise the head of the revolutionary hydra, to reorganize society, to create a power, he made use of religion as the most potent element. Catholicity was the only predominating religion in France; to this he had recourse, and signed the Concordat. But, observe, that no sooner did he imagine his work of reparation complete, and the critical moment of the establishment of his power passed, than he began to think of extending it, of freeing himself from all restraint. He began to look upon that pontiff, whose presence at his coronation had so much gratified him, with a more supercilious eye. At first he had some serious disputes with him, and ended by becoming his most inveterate enemy.

These observations, to which I invite the attention of every reflecting mind, acquire more importance from the consideration of what has taken place in our own religious and most Catholic monarchy. In spite of the preponderating influence of the Catholic religion in Spain, the principle of resistance to the court of Rome has ever been preserved in a particular and remarkable manner; thus, whilst the Austrian dynasty and the Bourbons endeavoured to lay aside our old laws, so far as they were favourable to political liberty, they preserved as a sacred deposit the traditional resistance of Ferdinand the Catholic, of Charles V., and of Philip II. The deep root which Catholicity had taken in Spain doubtless prevented matters from being carried to extremes; but it is no less true that the germ existed, and was handed down from generation to generation, as if its complete development was expected at some more favourable period. This fact was placed in peculiarly strong relief at the time of the Bourbon accession, when the monarchy of Louis XIV. was introduced amongst us, and the last vestiges of the ancient liberties of Castile, Aragon, Valencia, and Catalonia disappeared; the mania for kingly rights was at its height in the reigns of Charles III. and Charles IV. Strange coincidence! The epoch in which the greatest jealousy was entertained against the Court of Rome and the independence of Church authority, was exactly that in which ministerial despotism was in its greatest force, and in which there was seen something still worse – the despotism of a favorite, with all its pitiful show. True, the ideas of the French schools were at that time influencing Spain; and of this neither the King, nor, probably, some of his ministers, were aware: but this does not militate against the reflections we are making; on the contrary, it comes in support of them, by showing their applicability to circumstances quite dissimilar, and consequently their soundness and importance. The object here aimed at was the overthrow of the established authority, to make way for another equally unlimited; to effect this, it was necessary to urge on the former to abuse its prerogatives, and, at the same time, to establish precedents to fall back upon, so soon as the revolution should have displaced the absolute monarchy. What important reflections are here presented to us! What strange analogies rise to view between circumstances apparently most antagonistic! In our times, we have seen bishops brought to trial from the same motives that were alleged in a celebrated cause in the reign of Charles III.; and the Supreme Tribunals of our own days have heard from the lips of their fiscals2 the same doctrines formerly propounded by those of the Council. Thus do doctrines meet, and thus, by different ways, do we arrive at the same end. According to the ancient fiscals, the authority of the king was every thing; the rights of the crown, like the ark of old, were held so sacred, that to touch, or even to look upon them, was accounted a sacrilege. Well, the ancient monarchy has disappeared – the throne is no longer any thing more than a shadow of what it once was – the Revolution has triumphed over it; and yet, despite a change so profound, it is not long since a fiscal of the Supreme Tribunal, charging a bishop with an offence against the rights of the civil power, made use of these words: "In the state, a leaf cannot be plucked without the permission of government." These words need no comment; the writer of these lines heard them uttered; and this plain, unequivocal declaration of arbitrary power seemed to him to throw a new ray of light upon history.

The gravity and importance of this subject required this digression; it was incumbent on me to show how far the Catholic principle of the independence of spiritual power may serve the cause of true liberty. This principle, in fact, eminently teaches that the faculties of civil power are limited, and it is, consequently, a perpetual condemnation of despotism. To revert to the original question. It remains, then, established, that we are to be subject to the civil power so long as it does not go beyond its proper limits; but that the Catholic doctrine never enjoins obedience when civil power oversteps the limits of its faculties.

It will not be uninteresting to the reader to learn how the principle of obedience was understood by one of the most illustrious interpreters of Catholic doctrine – by the holy Doctor so often cited. According to him, whenever laws are unjust (and observe, that, in his opinion, they may be so in many ways), they are not binding on conscience, unless for fear of creating scandal, or causing greater evils; that is to say, that, in certain cases, an unjust law may become obligatory, not by virtue of any duty which it imposes, but from motives of prudence. These are his words, to which I crave the reader's particular attention: "Laws are unjust in two ways; either because they are opposed to the common weal; or on account of their aim, as is the case when a government imposes upon its subjects onerous laws, not for the good of the commonweal, but for the sake of self-interest or ambition; or on account of their author, as when any one makes a law without being invested with proper faculties; again, they may be unjust in form, as when the taxes are unequally divided among the multitude, although in other respects tending to the public good. Such laws are rather outrages than laws; since, as St. Augustin observes (lib. i. de Lib. Arb. cap. 5), 'An unjust law does not appear to be a law.' Such laws, therefore, are not binding in conscience, unless, perhaps, for the avoiding of scandal and trouble – a motive which ought to induce man to give up his right, as St. Matthew observes: 'And whosoever shall force thee to go one mile, go with him other two; and if any man will go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.' Laws may also be unjust in another point of view, when they are contrary to the will of God; as the laws of tyrants enforcing idolatry, or anything else contrary to divine law. With respect to such laws, it is not allowable, under any circumstances, to obey them; for, as it is said in the Acts of the Apostles, 'We must obey God rather than man.'" "Injustæ autem sunt leges dupliciter; uno modo per contrarietatem ad bonum commune e contrario prædictis, vel ex fine, sicut cum aliquis præsidens leges imponit onerosas subditis non pertinentes ad utilitatem communem, sed magis ad propriam cupiditatem vel gloriam; vel etiam ex auctore, sicut cum aliquis legem fert ultra sibi commissam potestatem; vel etiam ex forma cum inæqualiter onera multitudinis dispensantur, etiamsi ordinentur ad bonum commune; et hujusmodi magis sunt violentiæ quam leges, quia sicut Augustinus dicit (lib. i. de Lib. Arb. cap. 5, parum a princ.) lex esse non videtur quæ justa non fuerit, unde tales leges in foro conscientiæ non obligant, nisi forte propter vitandum scandalum vel turbationem, propter quod etiam homo juri suo cedere debet secundum illud Math. cap. v. 'Qui te angariaverit mille passus, vade cum eo alia duo, et qui abstulerit tibi tunicam da ei et pallium.' Alio modo leges possunt esse injustæ per contrarietatem ad bonum divinum, sicut leges tyrannorum inducentes ad idololatriam, vel ad quodcumque aliud quod sit contra legem divinam, et tales leges nullo modo licet observare, quia sicut dicitur Act. cap. v.: 'Obedire oportet Deo magis quam hominibus.'" (D. Th. 1, 2, quæst. 90, art. 1.)

This doctrine furnishes us with the following rules:

1. We cannot, under any circumstances, obey the civil power when its commands are opposed to the divine law.

2. When laws are unjust, they are not binding in conscience.

3. It may become necessary to obey these laws from motives of prudence; that is, in order to avoid scandal and commotions.

4. Laws are unjust from some one of the following causes:

When they are opposed to the common weal – when their aim is not the good of the commonweal – when the legislator outsteps the limits of his faculties – when, although in other respects tending to the good of the commonweal, and proceeding from competent authority, they do not observe suitable equity; for instance, when they divide unequally the public imposts.

We have quoted and copied the venerable text whence these rules are derived: their illustrious author has been the guide of all the theological schools during the last six centuries; his authority has never been called in question in these schools on points of dogma or morality; these rules may, therefore, be regarded as the recapitulation of the doctrines of Catholic theologians with reference to the obedience due to authority. We may now, without doubt, appeal with entire confidence to every man of good sense. Let him judge whether these doctrines are in the least inclined to despotism, whether they have the least tendency to tyranny, in fine, whether they aim the slightest blow at liberty. It is vain to seek in them the slightest appearance of flattery to the civil power, whose limits are marked out with rigorous severity; if it outsteps them, it is openly told, "Thy laws are not laws, but outrages; they are not binding in conscience; and if, in some instances, thou art obeyed, it is not owing to any obligation, but to prudence, in order to avoid scandal and commotion; it is thenceforth such a dishonor to thee, that thy triumph, far from entitling thee to renown, assimilates thee to the robber who despoils the peaceable man of his garment, and to whom the latter, for the sake of peace, gives up his cloak also." If these are doctrines of oppression and despotism, we also are advocates for such oppression and despotism; for we cannot conceive doctrines more favorable to liberty.

Upon these principles the admirable institution of European monarchy was founded. This teaching has created the moral defences by which that monarchy is surrounded; defences restraining it within the limits of its duties, even where political guarantees do not exist. The mind, wearied with foolish declamations against the tyranny of kings, and, on the other hand, not less tired of the boisterous adulations lavished upon power in modern times, expands and rejoices on meeting with this pure, disinterested, and sincere expression of the rights and duties of governments and of people, on hearing this language, impressed with as much of wisdom as of upright intention and generous freedom. What books were consulted by men making use of such language? The Scriptures, the Fathers, the collections of ecclesiastical documents. Could they have received their inspirations from the society which surrounded them? No; for in that same society disorder and confusion prevailed; sometimes a turbulent disobedience, at others despotism was predominant. And yet they speak with as much discretion, tact, and calmness as if they were living in the midst of well-regulated society. They were guided by divine revelation, which taught them truth. How often did they see it forgotten and trampled under foot! But uninfluenced by circumstances, however unfavorable, they wrote in a region far above the atmosphere of human passions. Truth is of all times; proclaim it ever, and God will effect the rest.31

CHAPTER LV.

ON RESISTANCE TO DE FACTO GOVERNMENTS

The questions hitherto discussed relating to the obedience due to power are very grave; but those of resistance to it are still more important.

Is it allowable, under any circumstances, in any supposition, to resist the civil power by physical force? Does there nowhere exist a deposing power? How far do Catholic doctrines extend on this subject? Such are the extreme points we purpose to discuss. According to one system, obedience is due to a government from the very fact of its existence, even on the supposition that its existence is illegitimate. Now, it is important to demonstrate, at the very outset, the unsoundness of this doctrine, which is contrary to right reason, and has never been taught by Catholicity. In preaching obedience "to the powers that be," the Church speaks of powers that have a legitimate existence. The absurdity, that a simple fact can create right, can never become a dogma of Catholicity. Were it true that resistance would be unlawful, it would be equally true that an illegitimate government has a right to command; for the obligation to obey is correlative with the right to command; and an illegitimate government would, consequently, become legitimatised by the simple fact of its existence. This would legitimatise all usurpations; the most heroic resistance on the part of the people would be condemned; the world would be abandoned to the mere rule of force. No; that degrading doctrine is not true which derives legitimacy from usurpation; which says to a people conquered and subjugated by any usurper whatever, "Obey your tyrant; his rights are founded on force, and your obligation to him on your weakness." No; there cannot be truth in a doctrine that would efface from our history one of its brightest pages, that would entail disgrace upon a nation taking up arms to expel an usurper, struggling for its independence during a period of six years, and finally overthrowing the conqueror of Europe. If Napoleon had succeeded in establishing his power amongst us, the Spanish nation would still have maintained the right on account of which it revolted in 1808; victory could not have rendered usurpation legitimate. The victims of the second of May did not legalise the command of Murat; and had even every corner of the peninsula been made a theatre of horrors similar to those witnessed on the Prado, the blood of martyred patriots, covering the usurper and his satellites with everlasting infamy, would only have confirmed the sacred right of revolting in defence of the throne, of national independence. We must repeat it: the simple fact does not create a right, either in private or public affairs; and so soon as such a principle is acknowledged, every idea of reason and justice disappears from the world. Those who may have wished to flatter governments with so fatal a doctrine, were not aware that this was the very way to ruin them, and to sow the seeds of usurpation and insurrection. What will be safe here below if we admit the principle, that success insures justice, and that the conqueror is always the rightful ruler? Is not this throwing open a wide gate to ambition, and to every crime? Is it not exciting men to forget every idea of right, reason, and justice, to acknowledge no other rule than brute force? Governments protected by so strange a doctrine would assuredly owe little gratitude to their protectors: this, in fact, is no defence; it is an insult; it is more of a cruel sarcasm than an apology. To what, indeed, does it amount, and how would this doctrine sound? Why, as follows: "People, obey him who commands you; you say his authority is usurped; we do not deny it; but, by the very fact of his having attained his end, the usurper has acquired a right. He is, indeed, a robber who has attacked you on the highway; he has stolen your money; but, by the mere fact of your not being able to resist him, and being forced to deliver to him your purse, now that he is possessed of it, you ought to respect this money as an inviolable property: such is your duty. It is a robbery; but this robbery being a consummated act, you cannot now obtain redress for it."

In this point of view the doctrine of consummated facts appears so much opposed to generally received ideas, that no reasonable man can seriously accept it. I do not deny that there are cases in which obedience, even to an illegitimate government, is to be recommended; when, for instance, we foresee that resistance would be useless, that it would only lead to new disorders, and to a greater effusion of blood: but in recommending prudence to the people, let us not disguise it under false doctrines – let us beware of calming the exasperation of misfortune by circulating errors subversive of all governments, of all society. It is worthy of remark, that all powers, even the most illegitimate, have a truer instinct than that manifested by the maintenance of such maxims. All powers in the first moment of their existence, before commencing their operations, before proceeding to one single act, proclaim their legitimacy. They seek it in right divine and human, they establish it upon birth or election, they derive it from historical titles, or the sudden development of extraordinary events; but all tends to the same point, the pretension to legitimacy. They never speak of the mere fact of their existence; from the instinct that prompts their own preservation they learn better than to rely upon such grounds, since to do so would be to annihilate their authority, to destroy their prestige, to encourage revolt; in a word, to commit self-destruction. We have here the most explicit condemnation of the doctrine we are combating, for the most shameless usurpers have more respect for good sense and the public conscience.

It sometimes happens that doctrines the most erroneous assume a veil of gentleness and Christian meekness. We must overthrow the arguments that might be employed against us, by the advocates of blind submission to any power that happens to be established. "The Scriptures," they will say, "prescribe to us obedience to the authorities, without any distinction; the Christian, therefore, ought not to make any distinction, but submit with resignation to such as he finds established." In reply to this objection, I see the following very decisive answers. 1. Illegitimate authority is no authority at all; the idea of power involves the idea of right, without which it is mere physical power, that is, force. When, therefore, the Scriptures prescribe obedience to the authorities, it is the lawful authorities that are implied. 2. The sacred text, in enjoining us obedience to the civil power, tells us that it is ordained by God Himself, that it is the minister of God Himself; and it is evident that usurpation is never invested with so high a character. The usurper is perhaps the instrument of Providence, the scourge of Heaven, as Attila designated himself, but not the minister of God. 3. The sacred Scriptures prescribe obedience to the subject in relation to the civil power, in the same way as they prescribe it to the slave in relation to his master. But what sort of masters are here implied? Evidently such as exercised a legitimate dominion, as it was understood at the time, conformable to the prevailing laws and customs; otherwise the Scriptures would require obedience from such slaves as were reduced to slavery by an abuse of power. Hence, as the obedience to masters prescribed by the Scriptures does not deprive the slave unjustly retained in servitude of his right, so also the obedience due to the established authorities should be restricted to the lawful authorities, and to cases in which prudence would dictate it in order to avoid commotion and scandal.