Part 9

Many nations, either by choice, or necessity, have deposited their wills in the hands of an individual; and have thus erected a perpetual monument to the spirit of discord, and injustice, which has so frequently reigned amongst men. It is true, that from time to time they have wished to recollect that they were capable of knowing themselves their true interest; but monarchs mistrusting their inconstancy, have taken care to fortify the springs of authority, by surrounding themselves with standing armies; and they have only left them the power of being disgusted with slavery: soldiers and taxes have supported each other; and through the assistance of this corresponding action, they have become masters and directors of every thing. How much good and evil depend on them? We then necessarily wish them to possess a vigorous morality, proportioned to their immense duties; but what force will your morality have, if they perceive at last, that it is not supported by a divine sanction; if they consider it as a human institution, which they have power to break, and which they are in the habit of modifying? At least they will have the liberty, like other men, to examine if their private interest agrees with that of the public, and their conduct will depend on the result of this calculation.

I will acknowledge, that at the point of elevation, where kings find themselves placed, they ought not to be acquainted with those passions which proceed from our petty competitions; but how many other sentiments have they not to repress? And with what celerity it is necessary to do it; since they do not experience any contradiction, they are not, like us, obliged to reflect and consider! Besides, though sovereigns are supposed to be sheltered by their situation, from the irritations of self-love, and from the desires of fortune and advancement, they are not, however, disengaged from every passion of this kind; it is towards other princes that they feel them; and envy, ambition, and revenge, become often very dangerous, as they associate with these passions those of the nation they govern, by means of a war. It is then that, freed from religious ties, and sure of not accounting with any body, they would find morality a very ingenious invention, to render the maintenance of public order more easy, and to preserve the subordination which secures their power; but, would not acknowledge such a master for themselves, and would dispense with bowing to its dictates.

You will say, undoubtedly, that a virtuous king would be recompensed by the applause of his subjects: but I have already shown, that the influence of public opinion would be very weak, if the principles of morality, which serve to guide this opinion, were not supported by religion. We should also observe, that elogiums and applause, homage so encouraging to private men, have not an equal power over princes, who cannot, like individuals, consider this suffrage as an earnest, or forerunner of exaltation; it is by the continual view of the advantages and triumphs of others, that the desire of respect and distinction is continually kept alive; and it may, perhaps, proceed a little from the stimulation of envy, or at least from those jarring pretentions, and from those struggles of self-love, of which society alone is the theatre. Princes without rivals are not subject to the same impressions; and the flattery they have so early imbibed, and the praises which are lavished on them from the simple motive of hope, all serve to render them less sensible to deserved applause; in short, this exaggerated praise soon becomes a dull monotony, which extinguishes, by its uniformity, that emulation which a just homage sometimes inspires. There would be then great danger in reposing too much on the power of public opinion, if we were to consider it as a check able to replace with princes the compressing force of religion.

I must now make an essential remark: those who surround a monarch, often mislead his judgment by the nature and the application of the elogiums which they lavish on him. The praise of men, in a monarchy, always has a taint of slavery: thus, in such countries, a look, a word from the prince, which seems to efface, for an instant, the distance that separates him from his subjects, delights them; and their enthusiasm in those moments serves to persuade the monarch, that it is sufficient for him to smile, to render his people happy: dangerous illusion, sad effect of servility: in short, in consequence of the character which is impressed by an habitual yoke, men are pleased with exalting the power of him to whom they are obliged to submit; they love to see their servile companions multiplied; and as the greater part of them have seldom any access to the prince, vanity persuades them, that in affecting to partake of the royal grandeur, they contract a kind of familiarity with it; therefore, without reflecting whether it will be more in the power of the sovereign to make them happy, when, by enlarging his dominions, he shall have more subjects, and of course more duties to fulfil, they celebrate, above all, the conquering warrior, and thus invite princes to prefer the pursuit of military glory to every other; and, as the multitude can quickly comprehend this kind of merit; as the gaining of a battle is a simple idea, easily conceived by men of every condition and turn of mind, it happens, by this reasoning, that these triumphs are the most highly extolled; and even that men, on account of them, can excuse every other failure, broken treaties, violated oaths, alliances abandoned—In short, such is the mad folly of our praise, that the tranquillity of the state, the repose of the people, the mild benefits of peace, appear no more than the last consequence of the labours and the success of a monarch; and even history frequently represents this fortunate time, as the days of obscurity in which heroes of blood and carnage are educated; kings, discontented with their destiny, are warriors through ambition, and happy by the victories, to which we annex our first honours, and the most noble wreaths of fame.

It is thus, however, that the prevailing opinion, and the rumour of renown, can sometimes deceive princes, though inconsistent with the instructions of morality and the legislation of yore, which point out the true interest of the people as the first object of a sovereign’s anxious solicitude; and instead of a sounding name, and dazzling qualities, enforce those requisite to form the guardian and protector of the felicity of the public; duties of a vast extent, and which are discharged by the secret labours of paternal vigilance, still more than by the noise of the drum and the instruments of destruction.

Let us consider, however, the influence the opinion of the world will have on sovereigns, in directing only our views towards the interior functions of administration. An essential observation presents itself at first to the mind: it is, that the thirst for glory is especially felt when a great abuse is to be reformed, and when we can hope to make regularity succeed to confusion; but when this task is fulfilled, and that it is only necessary to preserve and support what is good, the love of renown has not sufficient aliment, and it is then that the virtue of princes becomes the only faithful guardian of the public interest. A reign, such as we have formed an idea of, would carry away from the following ones every subject of dazzling splendour; and it would be necessary that new troubles and fears re-animated the sentiment of admiration, to give it its ancient ascendency and original force.

We should be able also, and this picture would be very different, to figure to ourselves a period, when, by the successive degradation of character, the opinion of the public would no longer indicate the way to fame, nor resound to excite ambition; the recompenses it offers would not be a motive sufficiently powerful to influence men. Thus, in a country, in a metropolis, where covetousness seemed triumphant, where every body would appear to pursue that fortune which is only acquired by intrigue, and the vices of those who bestow it, respect for the real interest of the people, and attention to lighten their burthens, would no longer purchase renown. In like manner, in a country where despotism reigns, and the people are accustomed to prostrate themselves before power, they would acknowledge no other idol; we should not there be able to acquire a contemporary fame by elevation of character, by tempering with wisdom the exercise of authority, and allowing the citizens to enjoy that degree of freedom, which does not degenerate into licentiousness. It is then morality, and morality alone, which comes at all times, and in all circumstances, to resist the revolutions of habit and opinion, of which history furnishes examples, and of which men are ever susceptible.

I ought not to neglect another very important consideration: princes, by the elevation of their rank, and influence on the national manners, find that they are in that singular situation, where one is more called to direct the reigning opinion, than to receive instruction and encouragement from it: thus we are impelled to wish, that a monarch should have principles which flow from his heart, and which depend on his reflections, from which he may be able to derive, at all times, a force properly his own, a natural courage. It is necessary for a prince to investigate and decide on his own conduct; and a sublime morality should nourish in his heart an ideal model of perfection, with which he can continually compare the opinions of the world and the private judgment of his conscience.

In short, and this last reflection which I have made will apply, in a general manner, to the preceding remarks; the opinion of the public, the just complaints of the people, are sometimes a long while in reaching the prince; they ring in the kingdom before he hears the rumour; they wander round the palace, but the whispers do not reach him; vanity, pride, and every vice excludes them; the old courtiers sneer, and the insignificant pursuers of credit or favour amuse themselves by indulging their turn for ridicule. The ministers, who are followed by the clamour, are often importuned by it; and when it reaches their master, find some method to weaken its impression, attributing these commotions to private passions, and giving the name of cabal to a just indignation against vice. Yes, such is the unhappy fate of princes, that the peace of a state is often tottering, before the opinion of the world reaches them, and discovers the truth; a new consideration, very proper to convince us, that the power of opinion can never equal in utility those grand principles of morality, which, by the aid of religion, are fixed, in the hearts of men, to give them laws, without distinction of birth, rank, or dignity.

But if, from sovereigns, we carry our views to those who share their confidence, we shall perceive still more the absolute necessity of an active and governing morality. Ministers, without virtue, are more to be feared than sovereigns indifferent to public good; newly come out of the crowd they know better than the monarch the selfish use that they can make of all the passions and vices; and as they are connected with society, as they have a continual relation with the different orders of the state, their corruptions are propagated, and their dangerous influence spreads to a great distance. Attacked, nevertheless, by the public, they become still more mischievous in their means of warding off danger, for despairing of disguise before the attentive eyes of a whole people, they turn their address against the prince; they study, they pry into his weaknesses, and artfully encourage those which may protect or cover the defects of their character; they apply themselves, at the same time, to adorn immorality with every grace which can render it amiable, and they endeavour to make virtue hateful, by delineating it as austere, imperious, unsociable, and almost incompatible with our morals and manners: it is thus that ministers, not restrained by principles, occasion not only the misery of a country whilst their influence lasts, but they poison the source of public felicity, by weakening in the monarch his sentiments of duty, diverting his good dispositions, and discouraging, if I may say so, his natural virtues.

In short, the picture which I have just drawn will produce another important observation: the prince, after having wandered out of the path of true glory, may return, when he pleases, to the love of virtue and greatness; all the avenues are open to him, all hearts ready to welcome him, we have an inclination to love him, and desire to esteem him, whom fate has placed at the head of the nation; and who, invested with the majesty which he borrows from a long train of ancestors, exhibits himself surrounded by all the enchantments of a diadem; we adopt with pleasure any interpretation which can excuse his conduct; we impute to ill counsels the faults which he has committed; and we are eager to enter with him into a new contract of esteem and hope. It is not the same with ministers; a like indulgence is not due to them, because they cannot throw the blame on others, and all their actions proceed from themselves; when they have once lost the opinion of the public, their depravity will increase daily; because, to maintain their post they are obliged to redouble their intrigues and dissimulation.

I have maturely reflected: the religion of princes, of ministers, of government in general, is the first source of the happiness of the people; we despise it, because it is not our invention, and we often give the preference to those artifices of the mind, which seduce us as being our own work; and perhaps they are wanted, after having lost sight of this sure and faithful guide, this companion of true genius, which, like it, prefers easy and simple means. Yes, this exalted virtue, resembling superior abilities, rejects equally those weak resources and inventions, which derive not their origin from an elevated sentiment or grand thought; and, whilst one obliges a statesman to respect honour, justice, and truth, the other discovers the union of these principles with the just means which strengthen authority, and with the true glory and durable success of politics; in short, whilst one renders him anxious about the happiness of the people, the other shows how, from the bosom of this happiness, they would see rise insensibly an agreement of interests and of wills, of whose extensive use we are still ignorant.

If we wish to dwell a moment on the private happiness of princes, we shall readily perceive, that they have a real want of the encouragement religion affords. Their distinguished authority appears, indeed, to their mind, a singular privilege; they believe this power should extend to every thing, and they indiscretly endeavour to accelerate the moments of enjoyment; but as they cannot change the law of nature, it happens, that in delivering themselves up to every thing which seduces their imagination, they experience as quickly the sad langour of indifference, and the oppression of apathy.

Kings, in the exercise of their intellectual faculties are exposed to the same extremes; providence having placed them on the pinnacle of fortune, they consequently have not been led from one view to another, and know not those gradations which actuate their subjects in the name of vanity, self-love, or fortune.—Alas! we obey so quickly, and their desires are so soon gratified, that their taste and inclinations cannot be renewed with the quickness necessary to enable them to fill the irksome void which so frequently occurs. If the magnificent end which religion offers were to be obscured, and if, henceforth, we were to consider it as a fallacious illusion, unworthy of our attention, kings would soon attain to that term when the future would appear to their mind a barren uniformity, a space without colour or form.

The numerous duties of princes, undoubtedly, afford a continual source of satisfaction; but it is necessary that they should be able to connect all their obligations to a grand idea, the only one which can constantly animate their actions and thoughts, who have need of neither favour nor advancement from their fellow-creatures. And how much would it contribute to their happiness sometimes, to imagine themselves between this world, in which they are weary of their own power, and that magnificent future; the sublime contemplation of which would carry them, with a new charm, to the exercise of their authority! What pleasure then would flow from this authority, the source of so much good!—What pleasure would they not find in more closely imitating the divine beneficence, the most comfortable of all ideas, and what a moment for him, when particularly conscious of the presence of the exalted friend of the whole human race, he should be able to reflect, in the morning, on the people he was going to make happy; and in the evening, on those he had actually done good to. What a difference between these delicious moments, whose influence the nation feels, and those insignificant levees, only known to courtiers, in which the monarch is the spectacle, and tastes the sad pleasure of seeing so many men cringing before his own image. What a difference, even between these rapturous sensations, and those raised by flattery, or the dazzling parade which surrounds him, in the midst of which he cannot discern himself, whether he is a great man, or only a king.

In short, we ought to acknowledge, that the more extensive the horizon, which opens before sovereigns, the greater is the number of duties presented to their reflections, the more they must feel the want of that sustaining power so infinitely superior to their own strength: they are conscious of the disproportion which exists between the extent of their authority and the means entrusted to human nature; and it is only by supporting themselves against that mysterious pillar, erected by religion, that they can be firm, and consider without affright, that Providence has called them to regulate and direct the destiny of a whole empire. It was when profoundly meditating on the existence of a God; reflecting on the influence and various relations of such a grand thought, that Marcus Aurelius discovered all the extent of his duties, and felt, at the same time, the courage and the will to fulfil them. The happy and constant agreement of his actions and principles made his reign an illustrious example of wisdom and morality.

We must confess, that it is to virtue, supported by every sentiment which it imprints on the human heart, that we should wish to confide the sacred deposit of public happiness; this alone is always faithful and vigilant, surpasses the spur of praise, and, by the ascendency of a great example, leads men to the knowledge of every thing they ought to admire.

CHAP. VIII. _An Objection drawn from the Wars and from the Commotions which Religion has given Rise to._

I shall present, at first, this objection in all its force, or rather I will not seek to weaken it; it would be needless to recal to the memory of men all the evils that have happened during a long series of years, with which we have reason to reproach the blind and savage zeal of religious fanaticism. Every one has present to his mind those multiplied acts of intolerance which have sullied the annals of history; every one knows the scenes of discord, of war, and fury, which theological controversies have caused amongst men; they have been informed of the fatal consequences which these enterprizes have brought in their train, and which the rare virtues of a great king have not been able to justify. In short, to maintain, in all ages, a remembrance of the fatal abuses which have been committed in the name of the God of Peace, it would be sufficient to describe those direful days, when some different tenet produced a sentence of proscription, and the frightful signal of the most cruel frenzies.

It is thus then, that in all times, by an absurd tyranny, or by a ferocious enthusiasm, triumphs have been contrived for the eager detractors of religion. Let us examine, however, if the deductions that they wish to draw from these errors of the human mind, are founded on reason and justice.

I shall not stop to observe, that religion has oftener been the pretext, than the true motive, of the unhappy convulsions of which it appears at present the sole origin; or stop to recal the various political advantages, which could only arise from such a grand principle of action; those august testimonies are commemorated in history: I shall only borrow the support of reason, and shall bound my discussion to a few simple reflections.

Do you think, that by relating the different abuses of authority we could prove the advantage of anarchy? Could we decry every species of jurisprudence, by recounting all the ills which have been produced by chicane? Should we be able to throw an odium on the sciences, by recalling all the fatal discoveries which are owing to our researches? Would it be proper to stifle every kind of self-love and activity, by reciting the different crimes which covetousness, pride, and ambition have given rise to? And ought we, then, to desire to annihilate religion, because fanaticism has made an instrument of it to distress the human species? All these questions are similar, and all should be resolved in the same manner: thus we may say with respect to them, that in all our interests and passions, it is by acquired knowledge, and the light of reason, that right is separated from wrong; but we ought never to confound their proximity with a real identity.