Chapter VII: Part 7

Undoubtedly even within the pale of Catholicism, we meet occasionally with individuals who adopt the same, or at least very similar systems, who either give in to the principle of Rationalism, or to a false theological illuminism (as in the recent period of Neology), or like some of the Jansenists, indulge in the unsafe and illusive suggestions of a sentimental mysticism. For the contests of two hostile parties will not always prevent the imitation of defects, and the contagion of errors; and this is only an additional reason, why in a work of this kind, we should abstain from entering more closely and minutely into the nature of these controversies. In contemplating the first steps of this great Revolution; in considering the circumstances of that period, we experience a feeling of regret, that the great problem of that age, the arduous task which devolved on it, of accomplishing an universal regeneration and real Reformation of the world, should have remained unexecuted, from the very revolutionary turn which affairs took--nay, that this task should not even have been understood or felt by any of the leading characters of the time. The earlier disputes between the spiritual and temporal powers had related to the dominion over certain territories, or over Ecclesiastical property in general, and especially to the jurisdiction of the state over the latter species of property. The allurements which the confiscation of church property held out to cupidity, must be ranked among the main causes which contributed to the diffusion of Protestantism. Thus, for instance, Prussia, the country of the Teutonic order, was now converted into a secular dutchy; and in the interior of Germany, a celebrated knight,[10] led away by the spirit of that age of feud, invaded one of the Ecclesiastical electorates, thinking no doubt, that that state, like every other Ecclesiastical domain, was the lawful booty of the first comer. But independently of these partial changes and minor transactions, (and in many Protestant countries, such as England and Sweden, church property remained inviolate, and even Episcopacy was retained,) the hostility of the German Reformers to the church was of a different and more spiritual nature; and it was the religious dignity of the priesthood which was more especially the object of their destructive efforts. And this is the point, where doctrinal controversy enters within the province of history; for the priesthood stands or falls with faith in the sacred mysteries. The rejection of these mysteries, by one half of the Protestant body in Switzerland, France, England, and the Netherlands, Luther not only discountenanced, but strenuously reprobated; yet it was only by a subtle distinction he attempted to separate those mysteries from the functions of the priesthood; and it was not difficult to foresee that together with faith in the sacred mysteries, respect for the clergy must sooner or later be destroyed, as indeed experience has sufficiently demonstrated. For that great mystery of religion, on which the whole dignity of the Christian priesthood depends, forms the simple, but very deep internal keystone of all Christian doctrines; and thus the rejection, or even the infringement of this dogma, shakes the foundations of religion, and leads to its total overthrow. The pacific conferences of learned and well-meaning men of both parties, though often renewed, were not attended with real and ultimate success; although sometimes, in looking at the language of such a man as the mild Melancthon, we are almost perplexed to discover the few points which do not coincide with the old Catholic doctrines--so nearly akin, and almost identical do the two religious systems appear, when we merely consider their separate parts. Equally fruitless were all those honest attempts at pacification, incessantly made by the Emperor Charles, who sought by his interim to create delay, while he indulged a secret hope, that the agitated waves of anarchy,--all that mighty tempest of opinion, would be allayed by time, and would finally be stilled. But that interim has been of longer duration than was at first calculated, and it still awaits the judgment of God for its great day of termination.

When we consider Luther's original powers of mind, independently of the use and employment which he made of those extraordinary powers, (for even the greatest comet, though it should cover half the heavens with the splendour of its light, can never possess, or be supposed to possess, the sun's genial warmth;)--when I say, we consider the intellectual endowments of this extraordinary man solely in themselves; the boldness of his speculations and the vigour of his eloquence will be found to form an epoch, not only (as is universally acknowledged) in the history of the German language, but in the progress of European science and European culture. After the first period in the intellectual history of Europe, which I denominated the scholastico-romantic epoch, and after the second, which I termed the epoch of enthusiasm for Pagan Antiquity, and in which a Christian simplicity of eloquence and a depth of scientific enquiry appear as only happy and occasional exceptions; a third epoch now arose, which from the general spirit of the age, and the tone of the writings, which exerted a commanding influence over the times, cannot be otherwise designated than as the era of a polemico-barbarous eloquence. This rude polemic spirit which had its origin in the Reformation, and in that concussion of faith, and consequently of all thought and all science which Protestantism occasioned, continued, down to the end of the seventeenth century, to prevail in the controversial writings and philosophic speculations both of Germany and England. This spirit was not incompatible with a sort of deep mystical sensibility, and a certain original boldness of thought and expression, such, for instance, as Luther's writings display; yet we cannot at all regard in a favourable light the general spirit of that intellectual epoch, or consider it as one by any means adapted to the intellectual exigencies of that age. But with respect to the language and literature of Germany, so far as these are of general interest, I should wish to make one observation. Besides Thomas à Kempis, whom I have already mentioned, I might cite several other religious writers of the fifteenth century and even of an earlier period, who though less known, were distinguished by a similar spirit, partly among those who made use of the Latin language, then universally current, and partly among those who, like Taulerus, for example, made the German the vehicle of their thoughts. And indeed were we to compare the gentle simplicity, the charming clearness of thought and expression which reign in the works of these writers, with the productions of the following age of barbarous polemic strife, we should then be furnished with the best criterion for duly appreciating the earlier and the later period.

With respect to those institutes of the church, which had early devoted themselves to the task of the propagation of the gospel, or of the defence and support of religion, and made this spiritual conflict and holy engagement the business of their lives; it now happened, as it had often occurred before, that the proper defenders of the church arose at that moment, and adopted that course and mode of defence which the circumstances of the church precisely required. The powerful prelates of the old Episcopal sees, who had rendered such high and imperishable services to the cause of European civilization, though they might not be unfaithful to the original spirit of their calling, and might be no strangers to science, were, however, much too dependant on government, and mixed up in affairs of state. The more popular and mendicant orders, from their very nature and character, and their peculiar habits of life and modes of speech, were not always calculated to exert due influence on government and the upper classes of society, while their ardent zeal, unmindful of times and circumstances, often transgressed the bounds of moderation. The great want of the age was a religious order, which established in opposition to Protestantism, should not be dependant on the state, but devoted exclusively to the interests of the church; a religious order, which well equipped with modern learning, science and accomplishment, possessing a knowledge of the world, acquainted with the spirit of the times, and pursuing the course which expediency dictated, with prudence and circumspection, should undertake the defence of the Catholic religion, and the propagation of the gospel in foreign countries, and worthily and successfully prosecute this twofold object. Such an order was the society of the Jesuits in its first institution; and that among the founders and first members of this order, there were men of undoubted piety and eminent sanctity, men animated by the sublimest principles of Christian self-denial, possessed of great intellectual endowments, and favoured by God with high preternatural powers, no unprejudiced historical enquirer will deny. Whether the reproaches which have been made to many members of this order, of having exerted an undue political influence, and displayed a spirit of intrigue and ambition in the history of this period, be well-founded or not, I shall not stop to enquire; because such charges at best can affect individuals only, and not the society, whose very name indeed has become in our times the watch-word of party strife and contention. The severest condemnation of the Jesuits proceeds from a quarter where we clearly discern the most implacable hostility to Christianity and to all religion; and this circumstance ought to furnish the Jesuits with an additional claim to our good opinion; but any judgment on the merits of this society, as this is a question which more immediately regards the present age, is quite foreign to the purpose of the present work. If some members of the order adopted at this period those absolute maxims and principles of policy and government, which in general characterized that age; and if the writings of others were distinguished by that rude polemic tone and spirit spoken of above, and which was equally characteristic of those times; it would be unjust to lay to the charge of the order, or even of particular members, failings and defects which were common to the age, and a perfect exemption from which is the most rare of human excellencies.

A violent insurrection can be put down only by forcible means; but every system of terror, of whatsoever nature, is sure to provoke, sooner or later, a re-action equally terrible. And if the dangerous disease be checked by means merely external, and no healing remedy be applied to the root and principle of the disorder, nor used to renovate the impaired organs of life--if the fire be smothered in its own flames--it will lie concealed beneath the ashes, and will burn in secret, till the first casual and unlucky spark shall kindle it anew into a fiercer blaze. Such, in my opinion, are the plain and obvious principles which the historian should bear in mind, while passing in review periods of revolution like the one under consideration; principles, which even now are susceptible of no very remote application.

In that first period of ferment which marked the birth of the reformation, the revolt of the peasants had been put down with amazing promptitude and vigour. It was but ten years later, when in the north of Germany, a new insurrection broke out, which from its religious complexion, seemed still more revolting, whose adherents sought to establish on earth the invisible empire of God by fire and sword, and whose new spiritual monarch, John of Leyden, made his triumphant entry into Munster, amid many and dreadful excesses; till at last this savage fanaticism was crushed, and (as invariably happens in similar cases), met with a bloody end.

But the most singular phenomenon at this momentous epoch was Henry VIII. of England: a prince who while he adhered to the Catholic doctrines, and zealously asserted them against Luther, yet severed his kingdom from the church, declared himself its spiritual head, and by that monstrous and unchristian combination of the two powers, appeared in the midst of Christendom, like the Caliph of England. When, too, we take into consideration the private life of this Prince, his endless series of divorces, and the execution of his Queens; his conduct was a greater scandal to his contemporaries, and fixes a deeper stain on the history of his age, than any other earlier example in Italy, or elsewhere, several of which have been already mentioned. The executions on account of religion which took place under Henry, and which, as he was opposed to both Catholics and Protestants, affected the two parties alike, were of a peculiarly odious and blood-thirsty character. On this subject I wish to make one observation. From the connection which then subsisted between church and state, a case might easily arise, where a religious error would become a political crime. When an insurrection originating in a religious cause, breaks out and threatens the peace of society, like the religious war of the Hussites, and the revolt of the German peasants, no other resource remains but to put down force by force. But when the first violence has subsided, another and a better and a truly moral remedy should, if possible, be applied to the evil; and this remedy was not always administered in a right, benign, and truly Christian form. Strange and fanciful have been, in all times and places, the offsprings of human error. Thus even in the most modern times, and in a peaceful and civilized country, examples still occur, where religious errors lead their unhappy dupes to violent attempts on their own lives, or the lives of others; and a wise legislation and humane judicature should rather treat these errors as mental diseases, than judge them according to the rigid letter of criminal law. How much more should not this be the case, when religious error is confined to the sphere of speculation, and is not attended with any practical consequences. It is often perhaps not easy to draw the line of demarcation between measures of wise precaution against the assaults of a dangerous fanaticism, and unchristian modes of punishment. But certainly the criminal process of Ecclesiastical tribunals at that period, was not only opposed to the spirit of Christianity, but at utter variance with the express and ancient canons of the church, and urgent admonitions of the Fathers, that the church should strenuously avoid the shedding of blood. Men sought to evade this wise and beautiful law, by abandoning all executions to the secular arm; but except in the punishment of actual crimes, and in the necessary defence against open insurrection, we must admit that the spirit of this law was grievously violated. A vindictive criminal jurisprudence, which was then dictated by the mutual rage of contending parties, and which was made still more revolting to Christian feelings by the religious colouring it assumed, remains a stigma on that age; for it was the work not of one, but of both religious parties, or to speak more properly, of members of both parties. The commencement, indeed, of this great disorder--of this great departure from the law of love--is to be found in the middle age, during the strife of exasperated factions; but how small are those beginnings when compared with the excesses of subsequent times. When we hear the middle age called barbarous, we should remember that that epithet applies with far greater force to the truly barbarous era of the Reformation, and of the religious wars which that event produced, and which continued down to the period when a sort of moral and political pacification was re-established, apparently at least, in society and in the human mind.

[7] The Prince.

[8] Schlegel here alludes to the Ordinances promulgated
a few years ago by the King of Prussia, for the reform
of the Protestant Liturgy.

[9] The author here refers to that mania for Biblical
criticism, long prevalent in Protestant Germany, and
which however it may inform our reason, and gratify a
laudable curiosity, is in itself no guide to the
knowledge of religious truth.--_Trans._

[10] Schlegel here alludes to Prince Albert of
Brandenburgh.

END OF LECTURE XV.

LECTURE XVI.

Further developement and extension of Protestantism, in the
period of the religious wars, and subsequently thereto.--On
the different results of those wars in the principal European
countries.

The true Reformation, loudly demanded in the fifteenth century as the most urgent want of the times, not only by the capricious voice of the multitude, but by the first and most legitimate organs of opinion in church and state, and the nature of which had been long before clearly stated, and fully and generally understood,--ought to have been a divine Reformation. Then would it have carried with it its own high sanction--it would have proved it by the fact--and at no time and under no condition would it have severed itself from the sacred centre and venerable basis of Christian tradition, in order, reckless of all legitimate decisions, preceding as well as actual, to perpetuate discord, and seek in negation itself a new and peculiar basis for the edifice of schismatic opinion. Such a vast, extensive, deep, and effectual Reform, which while it kept within the limits of ancient faith, and steadily adhered to its divine centre, would at the same time renovate and revivify the church, was not then accomplished. The disciplinary canons of the council of Trent undoubtedly contained many wise, excellent and wholesome regulations, whose efficacy has been proved by the experience of the different Catholic countries, and whose reception has been determined by the local circumstances of each; for these regulations intended for the correction and removal of abuses, and for the revival of ancient discipline, were not adopted without modification, nor received to a like extent in all Catholic countries. On the other hand, with respect to the Protestants, the decrees of the council of Trent, from the very nature of things, could be only of a defensive character. Instead of the desired Reformation, Protestantism early enough announced itself as a new and peculiar religion, and still more was it constituted as such; but the rupture was already consummated--the evil had become incurable, before the remedy was applied. Protestantism was the work of man; and it appears in no other light even in the history which its own disciples have drawn of its origin. The Partisans of the Reformation proclaimed indeed at the outset, that if it were more than a human work, it would endure, and that its duration would serve as a proof of its divine origin. But surely no one will consider this an adequate proof, when he reflects that the great Mohammedan heresy, which more than any other destroys and obliterates the divine image stamped on the human soul, has stood its ground for full twelve hundred years; though this religion, if it proceed from no worse source, is at best a human work. But even as the mere work of man, the Reformation was unquestionably a mighty, extraordinary, and momentous revolution, which when once it had been outwardly established in the world, (though inwardly it remained in a state of perpetual agitation,) has thenceforward mostly directed the march of modern times, influenced the legislation and policy of the European states, and stamped the character of modern science, down to our own days, when though its influence has not been so exclusive and undivided, as at an earlier period, it has been still the main and stirring cause of all the great political changes, and all the new and astonishing events of our age. We must endeavour to view this great Revolution with the impartial eye of the historian, and labour duly to comprehend and judge it in all its manifold bearings, and in all its remote consequences; and if we should feel inclined to lament and deplore the long continuance of this unhappy division in the great European family, we should remember that such a feeling of regret, however innocent and natural in our own bosoms, and in our own conviction, can furnish no adequate criterion for an historical decision. At any rate, we should in no case immoderately repine at such an event, and murmur against Destiny, that is to say, the ruling Providence which permits the occurrence of such evils. The permission by God of a mere human, unsanctioned enterprise, nay, of a mighty, general, protracted, and incurable division among mankind--a system of opposition with all its unhappy consequences, its moral impediments, and its political disasters; such a permission forms, as I have already observed, the great enigma of history--the wonderful secret of the divine decrees in the conduct of mankind, as well as in the conduct of individuals. Perhaps this great enigma will then only be perfectly unravelled, and the mystery which hangs over this subject, then only be perfectly dispelled, when this mighty Revolution shall have been terminated, and brought to a close. Even now, the experience we have acquired, however imperfect and limited it may be, makes one thing evident; namely, that the influence of Protestantism has not been confined to those states and countries where it became predominant, and where it received a public and legal establishment. Far greater was the danger, far more fatal were the consequences, when an open rupture, a formal separation from the church did not take place, or had, if a temporary, at least no permanent existence--but where Protestantism, that is to say, the spirit of Protestantism, a like or a kindred set of opinions, was infused into the moral system of countries externally Catholic, and secretly instilled into the veins of the body politic, gradually corroded its vitals; till at last, amid a false and apparent repose, the long suppressed element of revolutionary innovation infected with its deadly virus, opinion, science, and lastly, government and society. The conscience in its enquiries after religious truth, to whatever decision it may come, only looks to the determination of a point of faith as the sole clue of its investigations. But in historical enquiries, this rigid intersecting line of faith forms no adequate rule of judgment. The experience of our own times, or that of the last generation has proved, that innovations in faith, politics and philosophy ingrafted on a Catholic nation, are far more fatal to its repose, and that of its neighbours, than a system of Protestantism which has settled into a state of permanent peace and stability. Hence for instance, the policy and political interests of England, which is a state more than any other essentially Protestant, have often been in perfect accordance with the political system of an old leading Catholic power. And I would ask, has the Atheism of the eighteenth century been productive of fewer commotions and less convulsion in the world, than Protestantism in the first period of its existence, or in the era of religious wars; although the infidel party in the last century by no means constituted a distinct and separate sect, but was like a deadly contagion of the spirit of the times, infecting all beside and around, above and below it, whithersoever the wind of chance, or the breath of fanatic zeal might carry it.

According to my own personal conviction, the theological point of view is to be preferred in historical enquiries as the best and final rule of investigation. But in these latter times, when religious opinion is so divided, and where the juridical view of things, in which each party struggles to make out a favourable case for itself, leads only to endless disputes; the historian is compelled to view the diseased state of society with the eye of a pathologist. In medicine it is considered far better and more advantageous, that a dangerous disease should be got rid of in a decisive but happily terminated struggle for life or death, than that by any sudden check given to the crisis, the disorder should fall on any internal part, and thus attack and corrode the vital powers. This principle, which the history of particular countries has shewn to be equally applicable to man's moral existence, may be applied to the general state of Europe at that period. If Protestantism had then been outwardly suppressed and put down, would it not have raged inwardly, that is to say, would not the most essential part of Protestantism, the spirit of Revolutionary innovation, the spirit of destructive negation, rationalism, in a word, have secretly remained? And may we not conclude from the examples of a partial experience, that that secret and inward working of the disease would have been far more dangerous and fatal?--I should wish that these and other like expressions before made use of, should not be taken as so many categorical assertions; for the question of doctrine, lying as it does beyond the reach of doubt, does not fall within the limits of my plan, and the perfect reconciliation of minds is not in the power of man, but can come only from God. But these expressions are merely meant to convey a conciliatory view of things in history, (and, as is the proper duty of the philosophic historian,) to vindicate the ways of providence. Undoubtedly this great religious contest, this long protracted struggle has tended to excite the emulation of both parties in the pursuits of learning, and the labours of science, to stir up a mutual vigilance in the moral conduct of individuals, as well as in the administration of states, and thus to keep both parties in a state of salutary watchfulness and activity. Even from the collision of these two conflicting elements, there has sprung up in some countries a new and third element, which though not such as could be desired, nor entirely conformable to Christianity, has still been productive of important and remarkable consequences. Of the eight or nine countries, in which Protestantism has obtained a firm footing, and acquired a permanent existence, there are three in particular, where it has been attended with mighty historical effects, and where the originally destructive conflict of hostile elements has given birth to three new and momentous phenomena in the history of mankind. These are, in Germany the religious pacification, which forms the basis of her future prosperity, stamps the peculiar character of the German nation, and designates its future moral destiny: in England, the highly valued, or as it is there called, the glorious Constitution of 1688, whose mere outward form, or dead letter, has been an object of desire to so many other nations:--lastly in France, the Revolution in philosophy, produced by the indirect influence of Protestantism, and the combination of so many Protestant, or semi-protestant elements, and which gave birth to a frightful political Revolution, which after a short intervenient period of military despotism, has been succeeded in its turn by a mighty epoch of moral and social regeneration--a regeneration which indeed has not yet been consummated, which is still in a state of precarious and convulsive labour, but is even on that account the more entitled to the historian's attention.

Of the countries immediately contiguous to Germany, the home and cradle of Protestantism, Switzerland was at the commencement of the Reformation, the theatre of a fierce civil war, in which the Swiss Reformer fell fighting on the field of battle. But the strong federal spirit of the Swiss, the necessity of mutual defence, and the nearly equal numbers and strength of both religious parties, produced at an early period a religious pacification. The indirect Protestant influence which French Switzerland has exerted over France, has continued very great and powerful from Calvin to Rousseau. After the German treaty of Westphalia, the Austrian Emperors established in Hungary, which was already half subdued by the Turks, and still more exposed to their ravages, the principle of religious toleration--a principle that became a received maxim of state, and was incorporated into the very constitution of the country. In the last half of the sixteenth century, there penetrated into Poland the sect of Socinus, which professed tenets distinct from those of the primitive Reformers, and which with the usually rapid march of religious innovation, and schismatic dissent, had now rejected along with the great Mystery of devotion, the fundamental article of Christian theology, the doctrine of the Trinity. As long as the Socinians formed a distinct and separate body of religionists, they were not very numerous in Poland, or elsewhere; but during the prevailing infidelity of the eighteenth century, they acquired many more disciples, and in many countries have become almost the predominant sect.--How Prussia, the land of the Teutonic order was transformed into a secular duchy, which for about a century remained connected with Poland, I have already had occasion to observe. Into no country of Europe was Christianity introduced so late as into Lithuania, where the faith was planted only towards the end of the fourteenth century. In the ancient Russian provinces of Poland, as well as in Hungary and other neighbouring countries, a large portion of the population belonged to the Greek church. In the great struggle of the following age, and in the perpetual wars which Poland had to sustain against Turkey, Sweden and Russia, all these hostile and heterogeneous elements of which I have spoken, and to which may be added the real or apparent attachment of the religious Dissenters to Sweden, increased the general ferment and confusion in the Polish state, down to the final dissolution and dismemberment of the kingdom. Russia, which towards the end of the fifteenth century had been restored to a high degree of power and splendour by Wassili Ivanowitch, (who entertained the most friendly relations with the Emperor Maximilian, and who had established in his Empire the German Hanseatic league), Russia still remained totally separated from the European community, and was exempt from the influence of Protestantism, like Spain and Italy at the opposite extremity of Europe. The Scandinavian countries at the commencement of the fifteenth century, had been incorporated into one state, and considered merely in a geographical point of view, they might have formed a great and lasting power in the North; and under many vicissitudes, they remained united till the sixteenth century. Yet the voice and feelings of the two nations were against the Union; and Gustavus Vasa effected at once the total and definitive separation of Sweden from Denmark, the establishment of his own monarchical sway in the former country, and the introduction of Protestantism, which was brought into Sweden, not as in other countries, by the torrent of popular opinion, but by the arm of power--by the authority of a sovereign who knew how to conduct the enterprise with steady perseverance, and slow, patient and consummate skill. In Sweden, however, Episcopacy was retained. By its situation betwixt Prussia and Poland, and by the Protestant influence in Germany, Sweden became for a time in the seventeenth century a great European power; and to this political eminence the personal qualities of Gustavus Adolphus, as well as of several other Swedish monarchs principally contributed. In Sweden, Protestantism did not give rise to any events of a new and peculiar character, or of great historical moment, as in England and Germany. The Reformation was established in Denmark, chiefly though not exclusively as in Sweden, by sovereign power; in Iceland, its establishment was almost the work of violence. In those still regions of the North, the real abuses and scandals existing in the Catholic church were neither so great nor numerous as in the Southern countries. There was greater simplicity of manners; and corruption was much less diffused, much less generally known than even in Germany; and thus the ancient faith had struck deeper roots in the minds of men, and could not be eradicated but with difficulty. To that old Revolutionary spirit of the Swedes, which in their earlier history had often displayed itself in the party-contests of their high aristocracy, a wider field was now opened by the Reformation introduced by the court; and armed in the Protestant cause, this spirit found fuller scope in the troubles of Poland, in its connection with Prussia and other states, and above all, in the great religious war of Germany. When at a later period, and after the Swedish ascendancy in Europe had passed away, this spirit became compressed within narrower limits, and was thrown back upon itself, it then broke out into many violent internal commotions.

It was only under the successor of the despotic Henry that Protestantism was really introduced into England; but it there appeared under two different forms, and with two parties in a state of mutual and violent hostility. In England Episcopacy was retained; but in Scotland, the Puritans, the Methodists of those days, had the ascendant. But under Queen Mary, the wife of Philip II., King of Spain, a Catholic re-action took place; and this again was succeeded by a Protestant re-action under Elizabeth, whose steady and inflexible policy alone consolidated the establishment of Protestantism--a policy at whose shrine the head of the unhappy Mary Stuart fell a sacrifice. Thus things proceeded from one extremity to another--from the execution of King Charles I. to the establishment of a Republic, and the absolute sway of a Protector--till amid the various disputes of the Scotch and English Protestants, and the various struggles of national rivalry, the court fell back upon Catholicism. At last, King William from Holland, a century before the breaking out of the French Revolution, gave the final triumph to Protestantism, and brought to maturity the glorious constitution of that island, which has been so repeatedly transplanted, imitated and modified on the Continent and in other parts of the world. On this basis, a thorough Protestant policy was established, which affected even the public and international law of Europe--a policy which has so eminently characterized England in modern times, particularly during the period of her great power, and which was followed, or even accompanied by a Protestant philosophy. I should premise that this Protestantism in philosophy should not by any means be confounded with, but should carefully be distinguished from, the Revolutionary philosophy--from an unbridled anarchy in science and speculation, though the former in its corruption may easily degenerate into the latter. For the modern Paganism--the avowed Atheism of the eighteenth century acquired many more partisans and assumed a far bolder attitude on the Continent, than in the Constitutional island, which even in philosophy oscillates in a sort of artificial equipoise between truth and error.

In the Netherlands, Protestantism was indeed a strong co-operative cause, but not the only cause of the rupture with Spain; for even in earlier times the Burgundian spirit had been prone to turbulence, and the arbitrary rule of the Spaniards had excited in other countries also general dissatisfaction, aversion, and resistance. When the Protestant half of the Netherlands had separated from Spain, and had established the sovereign and independent state of Holland, the latter ever exerted a powerful influence on England in all religious and political matters, in the same way as Belgium has ever exercised a marked influence over France. But in Holland, Protestantism did not give rise, as in Germany and England, to any events of a new and peculiar character, if we except the general toleration of religious sects, which was there carried to a further extent than in any other state.

In her own interior, Spain had an arduous problem to solve--she had to overcome the old energetic resistance of a whole people,--the tolerably numerous descendants of the former lords and conquerors of the country, who still adhered to the Arabian manners and language, and even in part professed the doctrines of Mohammedanism. This struggle, which commenced under Philip II. by very severe laws against the Moriscoes, terminated under Philip the Third, with the barbarous expulsion of the whole Moorish population to the coasts of Africa. That from the intimate and manifold relations which existed between Spain and Germany under Charles V., the armies of the Emperor may have introduced into Spain the opinions of the new German gospellers to a greater extent perhaps than can be now stated with certainty, or than is now susceptible of minute and accurate proof, is by no means improbable; and this fact would serve to explain, though not entirely to justify many acts of the Spanish government. At any rate, the Spanish mind and character, in other repects so generous and upright, so little prone to selfish cunning or fickle frivolity, became in the long strife and animosities of a fierce religious war, more and more partial and exclusive, arbitrary and violent. There yet lingered, however, many chivalrous virtues peculiar to this high-minded nation--many extraordinary and lofty effusions of religious genius, such as are displayed in the wonderful writings of St. Theresa, whose holy meditations are couched in language of such inimitable beauty. Among no other people did the spirit and character of the middle age, in its most beautiful and dignified form, so long continue and survive in manners, ways of thinking, intellectual culture, and works of imagination and poetry, as among the Spaniards; and it is not the mere effect of chance, but it is a very remarkable and characteristic fact, that in Spain alone, the peculiar poetry of the middle age attained to its utmost perfection, and reached its last exquisite bloom.

In Italy, too, art and poetry flourished in her beautiful language; and classical erudition made considerable progress, and even arrived to a very advanced state, during that troubled period when the rest of Europe was involved in religious disputes and civil wars. But the fair and flourishing Italian literature of that age may be compared to a blooming garden, situated on a volcanic soil. No immediate danger then threatened Italy, though we are not to estimate private opinions by the standard of those which publicly prevailed; there were at least no public examples of that excessive partiality and passionate enthusiasm for Pagan antiquity, which occurred in that earlier and brilliant period of moral ferment and false security--the fifteenth century. On the contrary, in some individual instances the real progress of science was impeded, and on the whole its march retarded by a dread of the danger of its abuse; and hence the old scholasticism remained longer than was right in hereditary possession of its exclusive empire, although that contentious and partly negative Rationalism of the middle age was ill calculated to supply the place of a truly Christian philosophy, which the circumstances of the church then so imperiously demanded. It should then have been borne in mind, that every new error--every new shape which the old Proteus may assume in the changing spirit of time, requires, not indeed a new philosophy (for philosophy itself, which is, as the ancients said, the science of divine and human things, is in the sanctuary of its highest subjects and problems an edifice unchangeable through all ages, and built on the everlasting foundation of divine truth), but a new form and direction given to philosophy, a new resuscitation of its powers. Indeed the venerable Bishop and holy man of God, St. Charles Borromeo, had in his Manual of Religion furnished an example, in which we see the utmost profundity of ascetic science united with a beautiful lucidness of expression, and the greatest simplicity and purity of taste. But the regular philosophy of the schools remained for a long time yet much too scholastic; and it was prejudicial, or at least disadvantageous to the Catholic cause, that the first foundations of a better philosophy, of one at least more faithful to its high vocation, and of an enlarged and improved science, should have been laid by men, like Bacon and Leibnitz, who belonged to the opposite party.

Protestantism had penetrated into France from French Switzerland, as the very name of Hugonots indicates. The religious wars in France broke out much later than in Germany; and the religious disputes in that country had this distinctive character; that the Princes and noble leaders of the Opposition, the factious among the high aristocracy, and the contending parties at Court, made the Protestants (who formed indeed only the minority among the people, and still more in the state, but yet a very important and powerful minority), the tools and instruments of their own political designs and intrigues. It is this peculiar combination of circumstances which has stamped the character of the French religious wars, and which distinguishes them from those of Germany. The religious wars in the former country were not of such long and uninterrupted duration, nor were they of so destructive and desolating a character as the thirty years' war. On the other hand, the treaties of religious pacification were of much shorter duration, and were renewed even five or six times, for they were ever followed by new insurrections. Even the edict of Nantes, which was destined to terminate this long anarchy, did not prevent the recurrence of troubles after the assassination of Henry IV., and was itself totally repealed at a subsequent period. The various political intrigues of discontented nobles, and of factious leaders of the Opposition, gave a very hateful complexion to the religious wars in France; and that disposition to vindictive retaliation, which swayed parties in the various alternations of power, presented formidable, and almost insurmountable obstacles to the establishment of a permanent religious peace. That odious character in the religious wars of France, appears in England under equally revolting colours in the despotism of the eighth Henry, in the crafty policy of Elizabeth, in the great anarchical and regicide rebellion, and in the tyranny of Cromwell, and has been often and strongly pourtrayed by the national historians. It is extremely worthy of remark, as the fact serves to explain many posterior events in history, that the struggle in France remained undecided, partook from first to last of an uncertain and fluctuating character, and led neither to the establishment of a free Constitution, as in England; nor to the foundation of a firm, lasting, and irrevocable religious pacification, as in Germany. But this struggle remained an unsolved problem of state-policy, like the religious dispute itself--a dispute whose contagion infected the Catholics themselves, inoculated that portion of the population, and continued to rage among their descendants. In France, the Protestants were in a decided minority, and it was by other and subordinate causes that they acquired a temporary power and importance in the first religious wars; but in England they probably became the majority at a very early period, though not such an overwhelming majority as they form at the present day.

The Catholic and Protestant parties then divided Germany into two nearly equal portions, as in point of numbers they do at the present day; and although political power does not depend on numbers, particularly when, as was at that time the case, so many heterogeneous elements were combined, yet both the contending parties were sufficiently strong not to succumb easily in the contest. It is this fact which ultimately established the necessity of a cordial and permanent religious peace, and caused that necessity to be so universally acknowledged. But this very equality of numbers, and still more the active interference of almost all the great continental powers in the contest, rendered it at first more obstinate and lasting. Never was there a religious war, so widely extended and so complicated in its operations, so protracted in duration, and entailing misery on so many generations. That period of thirty years' havoc, in which the early civilization, and the noblest energies of Germany were destroyed, forms in history the great wall of separation between the ancient Germany, which in the middle age was the most powerful, flourishing, and wealthy country in Europe, and the new Germany of recent and happier times, which is now gradually recovering from her long exhaustion and general desolation, and rising again into light and life from the sepulchral darkness--the night of death, to which her ancient disputes had consigned her.

We can be little astonished at the origin of this war--indeed it is almost a matter of surprise that hostilities did not break out sooner; and the very fact that external warfare was so long suppressed, may account for the violence and animosity of the first conflict. The first religious peace was in reality a mere truce--another prolonged interim which still left many debateable points, that with the most honest intentions in both parties it was extremely difficult, and almost impossible to settle by a peaceful and equitable adjustment. Where so much combustible matter existed, the merest accident might enkindle a conflagration. This first occurred in Bohemia, where the old insurrection of the Hussites had been put down by force--(the only way in which on its first outbreak, it could have been suppressed) but where as it now appeared that no vital remedy had been applied to the roots of the disorder, much diseased and inflammable matter yet remained. Still the revolt of Bohemia was not the only cause or subject of a war, which some historians have considered rather as a complicated series of wars, partially varying in their object. The whole country--the age itself seemed involved in warfare; and war appeared as the permanent policy, the ruling spirit, the inveterate habit, and natural necessity of mankind. As a masterly hand[11] has seized and pourtrayed many events and incidents--many scenes and acts of this great tragedy--the religious feelings, and steadfast and inflexible character of the Emperor Ferdinand II.--the high military glory and conquests of the Swedish monarch Gustavus Adolphus--and the genius and disastrous fate of the General Wallenstein;--it is unnecessary to dwell at any length on these great historical recollections, though the subject is inexhaustible in itself. The peace which was the fruit of a high and imperious necessity, is in the point of view we here take, of far greater interest.

With respect to indemnities, the treaty of Westphalia did not differ from any other treaty of general peace, in which lands and parcels of land are to be allotted, and even secularized, but where the number of claimants exceeds the portions of allotment. Considered, too, as a treaty which restored, and fixed on a firm basis, the peace of the German Empire, the treaty of Westphalia did not depend in this, as in other respects, on the force of its own articles, but on the general system of European policy--on the principle of the balance of power which regulated that policy--a principle which then, and still more in later times, this treaty has much contributed to diffuse and extend. But it is as a solemn pact of religious peace, that I wish here particularly to consider the treaty of Westphalia--as the final conclusion of all religious wars (and in this respect it has never been materially violated)--as a lasting covenant of religious freedom, whose main principle continues deeply implanted in the German mind, while the two other relations in which this treaty remained so incomplete, have for the most part lost their practical interest. When we contemplate, too, this treaty as a noble labour of equity--the successful work of unwearied industry, it has no parallel among preceding treaties of peace; and hence it has become the basis of the international law of Europe, and the textbook of diplomatic science in modern times even down to our own days. Hence its long, undisturbed duration. The nations--the age itself blessed it as the termination of their long calamities; but far greater has been its influence on after-times. The religious peace which it established, has become in modern times a national habitude--a second nature to the German people; for here and no where else must we look for its high historical destination. It may be said that this, like every other peace where the question of right remains the subject of dispute, is only a truce--another mere interim--but it is a sacred and eternal truce--a divine interim--that is to say, an intermediate state of peace to last till God shall pronounce his final and unfailing award. Of little moment to the philosopher, who considers this religious peace in its vast bearings on the past, the present, and the momentous future, is the reflection of the Jurist how far, and under what restrictions this treaty in the altered circumstances of recent times, can be considered as really valid and politically binding. For more than any other treaty, has this solemn pact of religious peace been interwoven with life, and become a reality. And when we take a wide survey of the world, and include the future in our prospective ken, we may say, that now that most of the separate articles of this treaty have lost their value, and are no longer susceptible of execution, the general spirit and object--the high import of this religious peace are much nearer their fulfilment than formerly, when the practical application of this treaty to particular cases was solely considered. For that outward, but lasting covenant of religious peace--that holy truce and interim forms the prelude and introduction to another, higher, far more comprehensive, spiritual and divine peace, for which our age--the epoch of a mighty regeneration--is irrevocably destined. For how can Christianity, that is to say, eternal truth itself, be for ever torn by divisions? The solution of the great problem of the last three hundred years is by no means complicated, if we understand it in this sense, but extremely simple. For, if as it is the object of all true and elevated philosophy to prove, faith and science are really and essentially one, faith will be restored to its former unity, and then the schism between faith and science will cease.

Even as regards the political relations of the present times, this great, fundamental treaty of peace has become a new Christian basis of international law; for the spirit of Christianity requires that where absolute justice, which is rarely attainable, cannot be found, a system of peaceable and equitable compromise should before all things be preferred. And hence this treaty has, for all succeeding times, stamped the pacific and conservative policy of the great German power of Austria. In France and England, indeed, religious wars afterwards occurred; but they were merely the last agitations--the after-pains of that fearful period of convulsive labour. These commotions were soon allayed; and the example and precedent of this great religious pacification in Germany, highly and universally admired as it was, caused the principle of religious toleration to be tacitly acknowledged as one which religion and necessity alike prescribed for the imitation of all Europe.

Among the last and most frightful consequences of the general revolution in the church, was the calamitous execution of King Charles the First, which for the sake of order, I have previously adverted to, and which took place a year after the establishment of the great religious peace in Germany, and was followed forty years afterwards by the great national peace of England--the final settlement of the British constitution. Among the lamentable events which occurred at that period in France, was the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the last, and comparatively speaking, the most solid and durable of the treaties of religious peace made in that country--a revocation which can by no means astonish us, since this edict, destitute of all internal and external guarantees, and which emanated solely from absolute power, could not offer the same security, nor possess the same durability, as the great, fundamental treaty of Westphalia. Yet both in France and abroad, this measure, so appalling to the whole European world, was, after so long an interval, extremely unexpected. One of the effects of this measure was a cruel war of extermination carried on in the mountains of the Cevennes against the Protestants, who appear to have there derived a part of their tenets from some of the earlier sects of the middle age. With respect to the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, considering it merely as an act of authority, and independently of the blow which it gave to the establishment of a permanent religious peace, we can only say that such an abuse of power on the part of the majority, (and it is to the influence of a preponderant majority this act was ascribed by public opinion,) such an abuse of power was a very dangerous precedent in the native land of all violent reactions; and thus in our days the emigration of the French nobility has been the great historical counter-blow to the banishment of the Hugonots.