Chapter XV: Preface (14)

In this respect, and in this degree, it may safely be affirmed that the Christian principle of the state is more favorable to an hereditary monarchy than to a republican constitution. But at this point the proposition must be left purposely indeterminate. For a rigorous exclusion of all republican states, as if, properly, they could never be right and legitimate, would most assuredly not be accordant with the Christian principle of a state and the fundamental religious conception of all political relations and events. On the contrary, it would, undoubtedly, go directly counter to all proper feelings and ideas on the subject. For the Christian principle of justice respects all that has an historical existence, and leaves even the imperfect in the undisturbed possession of its rights. In this respect it is entirely opposed to the revolutionary spirit. For the latter, in its inmost essence, is anti-historical; its first step being the refusal to recognize the value and the claims of all that comes down from, and has been established by, the past. And, moreover, the Christian idea of justice, with all its strict rigor, involves a principle of equity. For, in truth, every Christian sentiment embraces the whole of life, and its several relations, with a loving mildness, and pays a due regard to all really existent though subordinate circumstances. And it is this exactly that constitutes the very notion of equity. Lastly, the doctrine of Christianity, and the idea of human life which it gives rise to, is highly favorable to true liberty. But, then, it is liberty, in a large and exalted sense of the term, in which, first and before all, a spiritual and moral freedom is meant as necessary to be firmly established within men before the external liberty in social and political life can be hoped for. For most true is the sublime declaration, “If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.”[55] To every one for whom this sentiment possesses a meaning and significance it would be superfluous to add, what, indeed, is so palpably evident, that the Son makes no one free except in the way that He Himself was, viz., by obedience--a perfect obedience which brings the whole man, with all its passions and affections, as a free-will offering to the Father.

The predominant tendency of modern Christendom to a monarchical constitution, as most accordant with the Christian principle of the state, is abundantly evinced in history. The fact is so generally admitted, that it is almost a work of supererogation to adduce instances of it. Not only within the memory of living men, but also two centuries ago, a great Christian monarchy, fanatically possessed and inflamed with the idea of absolute liberty and equality, lapsed for a while into a republic. But in both cases this passing fever of fanaticism soon worked itself out by its very violence, and the foreign and diseased matter was thrown off by the political body. It was out of this crisis, however, that the much-lauded constitution of England arose, with its dynamical theory of the division and nicely-adjusted balance of power, which has reached at present so great a height of practical excellence. Moreover, it is almost superfluous to notice the fact how a second-rate maritime power, which in its very origin was entirely republican, gradually approximated to, and has at last entirely adopted, a monarchical polity.[56] Another state, monarchical indeed, but which, from the fact that its sovereigns were elective, deserves rather to be called a republic, and in some respects was really so, amid the anarchy of party and the feuds which arose out of the elections, soon lost its ancient greatness and splendor, and even its existence as an independent nation. In short, in the whole of Christian Europe, but a few small and uninfluential communities have retained a republican form. As for the republics which have sprung up out of the colonial states in the New World, the very oldest of them are of too recent an origin to allow us to pass upon them any judgment which could be justly and truly called historical. On the other hand, however, the modern Christian era furnishes one remarkable phenomenon of a republican state on a large scale, and of a wholly peculiar kind. And we may adduce this instance as a proof that such a constitution is by no means excluded from the spirit of a Christian polity or its legitimate and historical principle.

I am alluding to the ancient German, or the Christian Roman Empire of the middle ages, during a period of many centuries, and in the time of its vigor and splendor, when it led, not to say, formed, the great political world.[57] As an elective empire, but still monarchical in the unity of the whole, it possessed so far a republican tendency and shape. And this it preserved even long afterward, when, by a long succession of emperors of the same house, the imperial crown had in fact become almost the hereditary right of a single family; for the solemn sanction of an election was still indispensable, and this gave rise to more than one exception or interruption to the otherwise historically confirmed law of succession. Moreover, this great system or confederation of states embraced many smaller and principally republican states; at least in its members were comprised every possible form of political constitution. The four great dukedoms, who in the imperial diet were the original representatives, together with the other hereditary powers which subsequently attained to the electoral dignity, formed, as it were, the monarchical element in the whole body, retaining, however, at the same time, its national and popular character. Alongside of these the spiritual princes, as entirely dependent on choice and election for their dignities, formed an aristocracy, not only of birth, but of science and the intellectual culture of the age--in short, an aristocracy of merit. Lastly, the trading and manufacturing free towns, with their imperial privileges and charters, formed, among the other members of the Empire, a true democratical element, in the highest and noblest sense of the term. For we must not understand thereby any mere universal equality, leading to the usual popular anarchy, but corporations, with well-defined rights, of the burgher classes, as they attained to historical importance and influence. The very name of the Hanse Towns is sufficient to remind us of the vast and important part which the latter played, even in the declining times of the Empire.

Thus free and republican in its spirit was the old Christian monarchy of the German Kaisers. It had no doubt to undergo many convulsions from domestic faction, and, finally sunk beneath them. Still this political constitution of the middle ages, in their best days, must forever remain a remarkable and singular phenomenon. Its full and deep significance and grandeur are little recognized, and still less perfectly understood, by the modern science of politics. Peculiarly Christian in principle, in its kingly administration as vigorous and successful as any other state in the most brilliant eras of the history of the world, while in the internal development of its republican members and constituents it was more rich and varied, and, in truth, much freer than even the most lauded among the mixed constitutions of modern times. For historical experience, that great teacher of political science, distinctly proves that in those _dynamical_ states, which are based on the principle of the division and nicely-adjusted balance of power, the ministry and the opposition usurp between them all the functions of authority, while the sacred cipher of an hereditary monarch is nothing more than a mere shadow, beneath which they can sit at ease to carry on their endless disputes.

The Christian view, then, of the world, and of the state, as we have already remarked, does not exclude or reject any form of political existence. On the contrary, it recognizes whatever possesses an historical cause and foundation, and allows it to stand in its proper place, and in its true and original significance and rights. Accordingly, it admits the validity as such even of the dynamical form of polity, even though it feels it impossible to agree with partial and enthusiastic admirers in considering it as perfect. Nay, it does not reject even an absolute despotism, notwithstanding that it sees clearly enough all its imperfections and great inferiority. It is only by a complete view of history that their existence can be explained and understood. And in this they will appear either as a necessary evil in its mildest form, _i.e._, as the less pernicious and dangerous, under existing circumstances, or as a remedy for some more fearful disorder, by which alone the social frame can be restored to a more healthy condition.

The usual transition and natural issue of popular anarchy, when it has lasted long enough to exhaust its own fearful violence, is a perpetual dictatorship or despotism in some shape or other, but devoid of a higher and diviner sanction. This form of government, or (since, strictly speaking, it is not a form) this political condition, must be carefully distinguished from a long-established, legitimate, and hereditary monarchy, with which its whole character has nothing in common. No doubt when the revolutionary evil has reached its greatest height, and when a successful and prudent usurper, like the much-lauded Augustus in ancient Rome, without being personally answerable for the overthrow of the previous constitution, appears pre-eminently in the character of mediator between parties and a general pacificator, the world is ready to accord to him its applause. Gradually his authority is more and more widely acknowledged. Although at first he is recognized conditionally only and relatively, nevertheless, if he remains faithful to his better tendencies, and continues to the last to confer important benefits on his people, he may often give a permanent and historical foundation to his dynasty. But if, on the contrary, under his usurped power, revolution, phenix-like, only renews itself out of its own ashes, and the old anarchy from below revives in another form from above, as a merely military despotism, which, in its resistless and annihilating lust of conquest, honors nothing, but throws the whole world into confusion, then is the second evil worse than the first, which it promised to remedy. By such a course it loses its only moral foundation, inasmuch as it was to the better promise it held out that it owed its temporary and conditional recognition. Such an instance has been brought closely enough before our eyes in the history of very recent times, to enable us at once intuitively to understand its whole character. More slowly, and in a more organized method, and, consequently, with more lasting and historical results, did such transitions shape themselves in the ancient world, and especially in the Roman constitution. The ancient development, therefore, of this phenomenon, and its special form, is highly instructive and pre-eminently calculated to throw a clear light on our whole theory.

Modern history at no period presents to us such a vast system of republican states as we meet with in the annals of antiquity, which exhibit this under the most various forms, as the predominant constitution of the whole civilized world, not only in its infant, but in its maturest and most flourishing development. Not only the Grecian communities, Carthage, Rome, and the Italian municipalities, but also all the independent nations of central and northern Europe, possessed a more or less perfect form of republican polity. This portion, therefore, of ancient history furnishes to political science a phenomenon which in the highest degree demands its attention. However greatly its freedom of inquiry and high intellectual culture, its splendid examples of patriotism and its noble characters and heroic deeds, may prepossess us in its favor, on the whole we are forced to confess that experience has decided against such a system. This great teacher shows it to us as utterly impracticable, and ill adapted to promote the real progress of human development, inasmuch as with whatever of brightest promise it may begin, it invariably terminates in barbarism and disorder. In all of these states we trace early enough the same evil tendency to political license and anarchy, which, developing itself with ceaseless rapidity, soon paves the way to the indeterminate condition of absolute power. Almost all the great thinkers and political writers of antiquity, without exception, set themselves to oppose the democratic element of their national constitutions, and foresaw and predicted the ruin of their country from this source, without being able in any way to prevent it. It will be enough to mention Plato in Athens, and in a different manner and degree, Cicero in Rome, who was himself drawn into the vortex of political strife. The remedy and counterpoise for the evils of this democratical spirit was sought by the political thinkers and philosophers of those times, in a doubtlessly noble but still very imperfect form of an aristocracy--a remedy which is as little consonant to our feelings as it is unlikely to satisfy our scientific convictions. A just and clear idea of an hereditary and well-regulated monarchy was at that date almost entirely unknown, since in its essential features, in its true and perfect character, it is entirely of a Christian origin. In the ancient world, at most, a few and faint outlines of it are occasionally to be discovered.

The internal and external dissensions of the republics of Greece, and the consequent loss of their independence and subjugation by the Macedonian monarchy, or the half-Asiatic half-Grecian powers which sprung out of it, affords a sufficient confirmation of the law that the republican constitution, in the times of moral degeneracy, invariably terminates in popular anarchy and ruin. The same transition in the Roman polity presents us with interesting considerations of a higher but different kind. For in this instance the change was effected with clear ideas, definite views, and well-digested principles. After a long and unparalleled succession of bloody civil wars, and an equally fearful series of foreign conquest and aggression, which were almost indispensable as an outlet for the wild and ambitions passions of men, the catastrophe which forecasting minds had long foreseen at last came about. And instead of continuing a hopeless resistance, it was now the first object of the wise and prudent to convert the new military power into an instrument of peace, and by investing the modern but absolute authority with all the old and hallowed forms of dignity, to bring it as near as possible to the character of an hereditary monarchy. It is to the tendency to improvement which forms the germ of these ideas that we must look for the apology, while in the course of history at this period there lies whatever there can be of reason and justification for such absolute despotism as prevailed at this era in the political world. In itself, however, it can not be too often repeated, it is altogether formless and full of imperfection. A true family succession and hereditary dynasty, however, was scarcely possible, so long as there existed no limit to caprice in adoption or divorce, and when all the relations of marriage and the family were undermined by the universal corruption in morals, which the better emperors sought in vain to check and restrain.

By the ascription to the imperial dignity of priestly offices and titles belonging to the popular religion, it was indeed attempted to give it a more sacred character and sanction. This, however, secured to the emperor no real accession of power. Such was the state of decay and weakness in which religion, no less than morals, was sunk. The heathenism of those days consisted in nothing but some poetical legends, external rites, and ceremonial pomp, which occasionally found a philosophical interpretation, but without a proper intrinsic substance and coherence, and an organized priesthood--all which are to be still found in the ancient religion of the Hindoos. And it was only a natural addition to the other numerous inconsistencies--it only rendered the whole drama the more revolting, if, after an inhuman reign, and after being at last put out of the way in a very human, and, at the same time, very _un_human way, the hated tyrant was in conclusion placed among the national gods. And if under Aurelius and the Antonines better days appeared, still they were but brief and transitory, since they did not, and in truth could not, possess any historical confirmation and moral basis like that of the hereditary monarchy of Christian times and states.

In jurisprudence, not only as a science, but in its practical administration, the Romans have in all ages, and even modern times, been justly famous. One reason, perhaps, of this was the fact, that all who still retained the least sense of right and justice, withdrawing from the dangers of political life and honors, retired to the still inviolate domain of law, and devoted themselves to the development of the old juristic principles. But when the whole social frame, and the very principle of civil existence has become in its inmost essence unrighteous, and based on injustice, a few just laws about property, and robbery, and fraud, and murder, and the like (offenses which, generally speaking, are, for the most part, essentially the same in all times and places), can profit little. Equally unavailing, too, are the shrewdest and most sagacious of juridical treatises on such topics. To extol the Roman Empire on this ground would be tantamount to praising one of the worst and most pernicious systems of philosophical error, or excusing it because it does not violate, or, rather, because it necessarily observes, the ordinary rules of logic, which, however, does not by any means lessen or remove the error, but, on the contrary, aggravates it; since by rendering it so much the more specious, it does but gain for it a more ready acceptance among men.

In the later epoch of the Christian renovation of the Roman Empire in the German, the better elements of the old Roman jurisprudence were rich in valuable and beneficial results. Still the Christian principle of the state accords better with the old Teutonic laws than with the civil code, inasmuch as by the old German usages a greater regard is paid, and a higher influence allowed, to the rights of equity. No doubt but the Roman jurisprudence has most acutely defined and developed this beautiful notion; but it is chiefly as an exception from strict right that it recognizes it at all. For such was the Roman law from its commencement; and it was regarded and established as the proper province of equity to moderate and to soften its original sternness and severity. But, according to Christian law, equity and strict right ought to be in every instance intimately associated and blended together, as is, indeed, implied in the very idea of Christian sentiment and feeling.

Herein lies, consequently, the great and essential distinction between Roman and Christian law. And this is the principle on which a thorough and systematic development of Christian jurisprudence must proceed, and in such a spirit alone can it be consistently carried out. A second distinctive mark of Christian law and of its very conception consists in this, that beyond all others, it is founded on historical rights. No doubt in its simple and natural character the Germanic custom invariably tends toward an historical legislation, both for the burgher and for the private individual, and is so far perfectly reconcilable with the Christian principle of right and justice. But in the full and extensive signification of the term, as it embraces the state, and all such powers of the civilized world as are brought by geographical contact into political relations with each other, it is only the Christian principle of right that can be truly said to be historical; for none but the Christian view of the world really embraces in its plans and consideration the whole of mankind.

Had man not fallen from the very first into dissension and discontent with himself and his fellows, with nature and with God, society would have stood in no need of a constraining force, or of the state to constrain it. For what else is the state but an armed neutrality for the preservation of peace--a sword of justice against wrong, whether from individuals or communities, a fortress and a bulwark against unjust attacks and the violence of war? And whence but from that only perfect system--the system of Christian truth and the first opening of revelation--can we derive the explanation of that which is but the propagation of the old evil and the primal curse? Does it not furnish, in the first wrong and the first fratricide, the historical derivation and origin of the state, accounting for it as the divinely-appointed protection against man’s inborn tendency to injustice? And if in any other history or tradition a tolerably clear and definite allusion to such ideas exist, it was, without doubt, originally derived from the same source.

It is, however, as in my last Lecture I have already endeavored to show, in the second and new divine commencement of the human race that we are to look for the true sanction and foundation of the state; for it is in this renovation of mankind that their true intrinsic and higher peace was first proclaimed and offered to him. Not, however, perfect peace, for that is to be the fruit and reward of having “fought a good fight.”[58] Still it is, in the mean time, a sure and everlasting basis of future peace, and an ever-growing germ of tranquillity even in the present. Viewed in this light, then, every human peace which is not merely specious and pretended, but honestly intended, and in so far Christian, however imperfect and partial, forms, nevertheless, a step in the great scale of progression--an approximation and a preparation to that universal and all-embracing peace of God which is higher than all reason, and all the disputes which arise out of or about it.

If injustice and wrong should ever disappear totally from the earth--if the peace of God were actually established thereon, then would the end of law be attained, and all institutions for its accomplishment would become superfluous. Law presupposes a condition of struggle, and is intended to endure as long as it lasts. It is itself nothing less than a struggle against wrong. The Christian view, accordingly, and theory of law, is far higher. In a scientific point of view, too, it alone is satisfactory on this account, that it recognizes a higher principle as the source of right, or as right itself, and that it alone contains in itself the historical key for the whole, and embraces at once the beginning and the end. But now the Christian idea of right is thus historical, not merely because it furnishes a complete explanation of the first beginning of wrong, and gives an historical derivation of the divine sanction of the state; but also in this sense, that in obedience to the principle of equity, as extended to the wider relations of political life, and to the law of toleration founded on this feeling, it respects even the imperfect and inferior degrees of right, whenever, at least, they are the unavoidable results of a previous course of things, and possess an historical foundation, and are established as less evil, and at least as comparatively good. And this explains, what is otherwise incomprehensible, how the Christian sense of right could reconcile itself to the absolute form, or, rather, formlessness of the later Roman world, and being gradually associated and fused therewith, led to its complete renovation in the exalted phenomenon of a Christian empire.

This peace-loving and tolerant recognition of imperfect political constitutions and forms of state is only applicable, however, where the absolute and the pernicious had its foundation in some historical occasion, and where, by a natural course of development, the evil has followed as the result of some previous defective condition of the political body. It has no place where the evil is radical and of spontaneous growth, as in the empire of Mohammed, and of his immediate successors; for a fanatical lust of conquest was introduced in the first germ of this dynasty, and indeed formed its foundation and its animating and vital principle. The brilliant success and personal talents of the first caliphs may indeed win our admiration and chain our imagination, but still in the very worst times of the old Roman world absolute power never presented itself in so unmitigated a form as it does in this empire of deadly fanaticism. This is the calm judgment of history. In the former case the evil sprung chiefly from the personal caprice of individual tyrants; in the latter, the pervading principle was despotism, which, on the whole, remained unchanged in the most famous and greatest characters. For such immutability is an essential principle of despotism whenever the spiritual and the temporal power are held by the same hand, and are united in one common center and sovereign.

In another point of view also, that, viz., of the moral estimate, the historical comparison between the old Roman and the Mohammedan empires turns out to the disadvantage of the latter. In the latter times of the Roman Empire, the family relations, and the sacred ties of married life, were no doubt greatly disturbed and perverted by the prevailing tone of immorality. But among the Mohammedans they were entirely overthrown by a false religion. Even in this respect, therefore, it is evident that there could be no place in the latter for that moral foundation of a long-established family unity, such as a civilized state like the Christian monarchy requires. It is nothing strange, consequently, if in the times of the Arabian dynasty, the Mohammedan state stood in more decided opposition, and proved less reconcilable to the Christian polity than ever heathenism did in the days of ancient Rome. But, notwithstanding this, we find, on the other side, the Christian principle of peace extending itself even to the historical phenomena and political relations of the Mohammedan world. For the most part (and in a greater degree with the advance of time) these events have been judged in that mild spirit of historical justice which, in its complete and comprehensive estimate, allows a due consideration to every motive and circumstance.

Moreover, a high principle of toleration has extended to them the benefit of the international laws of Christian states--a policy which only requires to be rightly understood to be pronounced in no ways deserving of blame or reprobation; for the evil can only be radically extirpated by the complete triumph of Christian truth over the false foundation and leading idea of this fanatical delusion.

But, however improbable it may seem, regarded merely in an historical light, that the Mohammedan races will ever adopt Christian sentiments, morals, and principles, still in the great course of mundane things, or, in other words, in the counsels of Providence, nothing, however it may contradict human expectations, can rightly be held to be impossible. And, indeed, recent times furnish many speaking indications of a growing tendency to such an approximation. Many signs might be pointed out, which, while they bear witness to a widening and deepening feeling of its desirableness, encourage us to entertain higher and better hopes. To promote, and indeed to co-operate in bringing about so great and divine a consummation, so long as it can be done without violating higher duties and principles, does not appear to go in any degree beyond the sphere of a truly Christian and pacific policy, or to interfere with the relations which it is right to observe in regard to non-Christian states. On the contrary, the worst violation thereof, and one that most surely menaces danger and mischief, is for a Christian state, in direct opposition to its natural principle and vocation, to be seized and actuated by a fanatical lust of conquest similar to that which animated the Saracens. Such a subversion and confusion of all moral ideas, and of political life, was publicly manifested, for the first time in the Christian world, during the French Revolution. Breaking out with furious violence, in the brief period of its duration it developed itself with fearful rapidity. How many, or, rather, how few steps it would have required, had its reign been longer, to convert it into a military despotism, thoroughly heathenish, such as the Revolution indeed was from beginning to end; into a despotism which, like that of the caliphate already mentioned, should unite in the same person all spiritual, as well as temporal authority, we need not here further investigate. The dreadful possibility of such a contingency has been brought only too closely home to our fears.

The essence of despotism, as I said before, lies in the union in one person of the civil and spiritual powers--or in a most anomalous state, which is, by a rare and faulty combination, at once spiritual and temporal. And since the distinction between the two powers is involved in the very notion of a Christian state, it is of the highest importance that the state should carefully observe and respect the boundaries between the two domains. It is extremely difficult to establish any general standard for all the cases of collision between the two that either have actually occurred or are conceivably possible. For it is evident that this contingency must be modified in an infinite number of ways, by existing treaties, the local circumstances and political constitution of the different states. The chief point is the general spirit and feeling. The question turns principally on good will and honest intentions; but pre-eminently on a right conception of both powers, as alike possessing in their respective spheres a higher sanction, a divine foundation, and a sacred character. This must be recognized in every case and time, and all circumstances belonging to either sphere must be treated accordingly.

Many and serious cases of such collision between the church and the state have occurred and are perpetually recurring. Many and grave errors have been committed on both sides. But for the most part they have been unfairly judged, or, rather, misjudged, through ignorance both of the times, and of the actual circumstances of the case. The day is not long gone by when in this respect it was the habitual rule to subject certain of the early popes especially to an unqualified vituperation and censure. And it must be told, to the praise of German impartiality, that Protestant writers were the first, by their historical researches, to do justice to and to form a fair estimate of these, in their day, truly great and eminent characters. Still we do not by any means pretend to deny that both in these and later times grave blame rests with many of the popes individually. On neither side, however, and at no time, were the limits which divide the two powers overstepped so far as they were by Henry VIII. of England, that absolute monarch in temporals, and who wished also to be equally supreme in spirituals. The most despotic sovereign that ever sat on the throne of England, by founding [the independence of] the Anglican Church,[59] became undesignedly and unconsciously the true author of that much-lauded constitution of England, which, essentially resting on this foundation, furnishes the only instance of a dynamical polity, as the only remedy of an otherwise incurable tendency to division and anarchy, attaining to a highly perfect shape and development. As for the schism in the faith, which in these latter times has in so many Christian countries made the problem of religion only the more difficult, and its relation to the state more delicate and liable to aggression, it has in England, through this royal reformer, assumed so complicated a shape that, unsolved as yet, it appears to many, judging of it in a merely human light, totally and forever incapable of solution.

We must reserve to the succeeding Lecture the enumeration of all the results which flow from these premises, and this first outline of a truly Christian justice, which as such involves the principle of equity, and is even truly historical.

LECTURE XIV.

OF THE DIVISION OF RANKS, AND OF THE RECIPROCAL RELATIONS OF STATES ACCORDING TO THE CHRISTIAN IDEA.--OF SCIENCE AS A POWER; OF ITS CONSTITUTION, AND OF THE RIGHT REGULATION OF IT.

Whenever philosophy, setting up any conceit of its own as a principle, intrudes either into the domain of religion or of politics, such an intrusion is, in every case, an aggression. And if the aggressive idea, once formed and entertained, is, nevertheless, externally and in appearance held in check and restrained--if, from ulterior considerations and for the sake of some remote object, science accommodates itself to the established system of law or religion--then is the case only so much the worse. The deep and pervading hostility of sentiment is but concealed beneath the external servility of language, and the rankling wound has but skinned over the surface. The influence of evil is far from being checked and destroyed; or, to say the least, that of good is nipped in the bud, not being allowed fully to expand itself. And at the same time the dignity of science, which can only be maintained by its independence, is fatally and irretrievably endangered.

Under this conviction, I strongly protested, at the very opening of these Lectures, against all such intermeddling of philosophy with matters foreign to it; and I trust that, for my part, I have hitherto duly observed the spirit of that protest. But now, the end which philosophy strives to attain to is a right estimate and full understanding of its own nature, and that of man, both in the internal properties of his mind and in his external existence relatively to God and nature, and also to the world and society. In pursuit of this object, having once found and acknowledged the center of the inner life, such as it is given to us, and setting out therefrom, philosophy can and may, with perfect propriety, submit to investigation the highest ideas of life, and judge them after its own method, and from its own peculiar position. But still it will do this in the hope rather of explaining what actually exists, than of establishing any self-devised ideal of its own, or of setting up impracticable laws for a merely conceivable state of things under the most arbitrary assumptions--for a wholly visionary world.

Consistently, then, with this notion of philosophy, and under this limitation, I have not, I think, deviated in the latter Lectures from the law I originally laid down. Inasmuch, however, as the exposition of a philosophy of life must necessarily be _vivid_, and consequently requires to be interspersed with historical views and examples, I must request you, looking principally to the ideas which form the essential foundation of these discourses, to judge the latter by the pervading tenor and connection of the thoughts rather than by the several allusions and instances which I have introduced for the mere purpose of illustration. All that is merely personal in the interpretation passed upon those events will, I trust, be looked upon as the private opinions, indeed, but still the unprejudiced conclusions, of an individual.

In the course of these Lectures I attempted, first of all, to establish a firm foundation for the human soul, considered both in its own proper nature and with regard to its most essential relations in life to nature and to God. In the next place, by investigating the order of the divine dispensations in nature, and in the realms of truth and history, it was my endeavor to obtain for it a wider and more solid basis. Lastly, I occupied myself with tracing the course which the Spirit of Eternal Truth pursues in science and in life, and the shapes which in its progress toward perfection it successively assumes. Accordingly, I have pointed out to you, first of all, how this Spirit of Eternal Truth is ever one and the same in the highest science and in divine faith; then, how victoriously it comes forth out of the conflict between faith and infidelity; and, in conclusion, I showed you that, far from being confined to the narrow region of science, it may and rightly ought to enter with an earnest influence into life itself. How the latter duty is actually fulfilled we endeavored to show, by considering the symbolical signification of life, and, as derived therefrom, its higher sanction and divine foundation, especially in public life and the state. And herein the idea of a universal Christian and truly historical justice found a closer application and wider development. And this formed the subject of our last disquisition.

I there sought to elucidate this idea solely and entirely from history. For this purpose I endeavored, by means of historical instances, to set in a clear, discriminating light the opposite and divergent notions of an absolute and of a dynamical or limited monarchy, so far at least as regards the essential features and characteristic constitution of each. As instances of the former, I pointed to the old Roman world and the empire of the caliphs, while the latter was elucidated by the English constitution, in which, as yet, it has attained to its highest and most perfect development. This is, no doubt, a master-piece of political wisdom, wherein an intractable spirit of opposition being adopted, as it were, into the very constitution, is thereby rendered legitimate and its evil tendency is held in check. Still the principle of it can not rightly be viewed in any other light than the wise procedure of the physician who, in the case of an inevitable epidemic, resolves to inoculate the disease in order to be able to control it the better, and by watching more closely its crisis, to regulate its course and issue.

In its true historical place, therefore, this constitution finds its satisfactory explanation and justification; or, rather, deserves our highest praise, the fullest acknowledgment of its merits, and even our admiration. But inasmuch as every feature of it is thoroughly historical and national, and since the slightest local diversity in the character of a people or nation might with different relations and circumstances give rise to wants and difficulties little expected or dreamed of, we must be cautious how we seek to introduce it elsewhere. In the arts it is ever a sorry business to imitate great works of original genius. By such a course little but _manner_ is multiplied. So it is rarely a felicitous idea to suppose that a constitution, though copied from ever so lauded a model, must be suited to all nations alike, and must prove a universal and unfailing source of political felicity--a tree of liberty, which we may transplant at pleasure, or, as it were, a constitutional bill of exchange, which, once endorsed we may put in circulation.

But if the true Gordian knot in that master-piece of polity, the English constitution, remains still an unsolved problem, since that war of religious opinion, which seems at every moment to be threatening an outbreak, is as yet, with consummate skill and prudence, kept under and restrained within its recognized limits, we may see in this fact a further confirmation and justification of the encomiums we recently passed upon the religious peace which has become for us in Germany as it were a second nature, and which, in the place of such a constitution, is to us the guaranty of mental freedom and the pledge of a higher unity than one simply political. It is not a mere dead letter, but it is a living power enshrined in the minds of men. And if occasionally some rash expression in a great and influential writer, or any grievous act on the part of a powerful and leading political character, may seem to menace violence to this religious peace, the general feeling soon pronounces itself against such indiscretion, and the single note of discord is quickly brought in unison with the general harmony, or else dies away without producing any deep or widely-prejudicial consequences. Not, indeed, that the existing differences in religious opinion are a thing desirable--we mean any thing but that by our encomiums on the religious peace. What we really mean is, that in the present state of things such a peace is of the very highest value, and one whose great blessing can only be appreciated fully by those who enjoy it. And nothing but a comparison with other civilized nations in this respect can enable us to understand and to form a full estimate of its value. And if every ordinary treaty of peace between states, whenever it is settled on true and lasting foundations and sincerity of purpose, has an influence on the inward development of mind or spirit in the course of history, and affords, as it were, a calm presage of a higher and a more universal peace of God, how can we look upon this peculiar and internal peace between men’s minds in any other light than as a token of a richer and fuller future, and as a symbol of ultimate perfection and unity?

In our notice of the schism in the faith we made allusion to the possibility of a collision between the two highest and most sacred powers, the civil and the spiritual, according to the distinction involved in the very idea of the Christian life. In order, therefore, to avoid every possible misconception, it seems to be necessary, or, at least, not a superfluous task, to add one brief remark on the extreme case when, in such an unfortunate collision, right and justice are openly violated and set at defiance. If the civil power be the party attacked and unduly interfered with in its legitimate province, it has a perfect right to defend itself, as, indeed, in our days, it is quite able and knows well how to do. The only thing that apparently remains to be desired is, that in the exercise of this right it should observe, as indeed becomes the stronger side, the greatest moderation. But if, on the contrary, the aggression proceeds from this side, and the spiritual power is attacked, then it ought to bear in mind that its legitimate opposition to the civil power ought to assume a material character. Its resistance must never be public and open violence, nor, either directly or indirectly, by means of what we may call _machinations_, for such a proceeding would undermine the sacred foundations of public confidence, and shake the whole edifice of moral order and society. In the case of such an aggression, religion would deprive herself of her duly-acquired position in the state. But this, so long as the latter remains Christian, religion itself never can and never will do, as neither will those whose duty it is to guide and to minister it in a truly reverent and pious spirit.

The only opposition, therefore, that the spiritual power can rightly and justly make to the aggression of the state must be of a passive nature. It is not necessary to lay down any elaborate and rigorous distinctions for such an emergency; for such definitions rarely meet the complicated variety and special character of every possible or even every actual case. A few historical examples, which readily present themselves, will serve briefly and perspicuously to illustrate the view of duty which we wish to enforce. In the unfortunate case of a great and public collision between the Church and the State, the model of a just and legitimate resistance on the part of the spiritual power has been furnished by the conduct of that venerable old man,[60] whom half of Europe regarded as invested with the highest priestly and apostolical dignity. With calm fortitude, even in bonds, he refused to yield to the military despot, and won the personal esteem and admiration likewise of that other half of Europe which denied his spiritual authority. Or, to take an example from a more limited sphere, and of a more personal nature, we may appeal to the history of the patron saint of Bohemia, which, at least, can not be classed among the legends, and which, in any case, will afford a beautiful and simple example of a noble, perfectly-allowable resistance of a spiritual party against the injustice of the political head of the nation. By such passive resistance, and by such alone, did Christianity, in the earliest centuries, though so unattractive and so lowly at its first commencement, gradually attain a secure external foundation, and become the religion of the whole civilized world. A public outbreak, and even a secret feeling of discontent between the spiritual and the temporal power, between Church and State, is, at all times, and in every case, a great evil, threatening and bringing danger and ruin on both. For the state, as being ultimately founded on a religious basis, undermines its own foundation by assuming a hostile attitude toward religion. No financial difficulties, or any such partial calamities, will ever ruin a people so long as any moral energy still exists in the whole body, and it is consequently sound at the core. Political skepticism, which is the immediate and necessary consequence of infidelity in religion, is the true cause and origin of the decay of nations. These two vital principles of human society, therefore--these two powers, however essentially and necessarily distinct--must work together in perfect peace and unity. For the one can only flourish where the soil has been rendered morally fertile by the other, while the latter can not exercise its full influence except under the sanction of the political power. If religion were at unity in itself, and totally free from party and controversy, and the state, as the public life, were in perfect harmony with it, and thoroughly pervaded by its life-giving spirit, humanity would, by such a consummation, have made a great step in advance toward that divine peace for which every human pacification, however imperfect, is the expression of a profound and imperishable longing--of a pursuit which, though ever attaining, is still never wholly abandoned.

However, the alienation and separation of the civil and spiritual powers seems to belong peculiarly and essentially to, or, rather, to be a necessary law of, the present condition of humanity, still involved in struggle with evil, and not yet having attained to the end of its endeavors. It is much older than men think. It must have existed in the first ages of the world, and in the earliest stage of the Gentile religion. For among the Hindoos, who, as they are the most ancient people that we are acquainted with, are also the most authentic monument that remains of the primeval condition of the human race, we find this separation formally and definitely established. It there forms an insurmountable barrier between the regal and the sacerdotal dignity. On this point it would not be advisable to direct our attention exclusively or even principally to the condition of the priestly class among the Greeks and Romans, since, in the later epochs of these nations, Gentilism had greatly degenerated, and in the more civilized days of these people had lost all its essential forms, and its true spirit had disappeared. But, with that still more ancient people of the Hindoos, the same unchanged law still exists in these days as in the very earliest times. A Brahmin who should attempt to ascend the throne or usurp its powers, or a rajah who should wish to be as a Brahmin, or to suppress and annihilate the Brahminical caste, would be universally regarded as an abomination. The attempt, on either side, would appear an offense against human nature and divine laws. For a mixture or confusion of castes signifies to the Hindoos the very abomination of anarchy; and by this term, in one characteristic word of their language, they designate all revolutionary times, even though, we must observe, such periods among the Hindoos were never more than brief and transitory, the waves of anarchy breaking harmlessly against the everlasting rocks of this ancient and solidly-compact system.

Besides the many other traces of family affinity between the Indian and Teutonic races, another is furnished by the Germanic constitution, which forms the political basis of most European kingdoms. In India the noble class who most especially are bound to military service forms also the caste of the lords of the soil; and from their latter character they also derive their name as a class.[61] Some of the most general and most ancient features of the feudal system have likewise been discovered among them, though not, indeed, its more artificial and complicated system, to which feudalism was in later times developed among European nations. To this landed nobility belong the nabobs and even the rajahs. For it was left open to the fluctuating fortunes of different families to rise or to fall from the summit of political dignity. Between the several grades of honor accessible to a particular caste no insurmountable barrier was raised; all were open to all the members of the same rank or caste.

The democratical writers of a recent era, in obedience to a sentiment natural enough to their false system, have expressed a deep horror and strong aversion to this institution of castes among the Hindoos, stamping it on every occasion with the strongest marks of reprobation. Viewing it, however, in an historical light, I for my part am disposed to think that it is to this ancient and hereditary institution, however much of imperfection it undoubtedly involves, that this great and populous country owes that firm stability of its laws and customs, and that indestructible prosperity which the various conquests it has undergone both in ancient and modern times have been unable to shake or to undermine. No doubt the Indian gradation of ranks wants the stamp of perfection and mildness which belongs to Christian politics. And in this respect the comparison is especially instructive. It serves to draw attention to, and strongly illustrates the fact, that a Christian division of ranks is, in some points, different in its principle, and the very opposite to the correspondent state of things in the old world, as yet unrefined and purified by this divine element. For, first of all, according to the Christian idea, the spiritual class can not depend upon birth; it must possess a higher and peculiar vocation. This order, consequently, can not recruit itself merely by birth, but must derive its members from the other classes which are hereditary. But in consequence of this principle, the partition-wall, otherwise impassable and absolute, between the other ranks, which, taken on the whole, are hereditary, is so far removed, that exceptional cases occur when these barriers are opened to merit or other important considerations. It is a self-evident fact, requiring no elaborate argument for its proof, that the Christian sentiment, or, as we have here expressed it, that principle of equity so universally and essentially interwoven with the Christian idea of justice, demands that every alleviation of their toilsome and oppressive lot should be afforded to the industrious classes. To those on whom the accident of birth, as the world speaks, or, as we should prefer to say, a higher and a divine Providence, has laid all the hardships of life, it is but just that every privilege should be conceded that does not militate against the general welfare, or the private rights of individuals. And in the same spirit, every political constitution that is organically arranged and founded on a Christian, and, consequently, modified separation of ranks, will attentively observe and engraft into its old constitutional stock every new historical shoot. A great and instructive example of the kind is at hand. In the Teutonic constitutions of the middle ages, and especially in the Germanic Empire, cities and trades, which at an earlier period had formed a very immaterial and comparatively insignificant element in the whole--in short, the growing burgher classes were, at their very first appearance, understood humanly and politically--received a great organic development, and taken into a living combination with the old.