Revolution and the Republic

Home > Other > Revolution and the Republic > Page 73
Revolution and the Republic Page 73

by Jeremy Jennings


  Church, in his second lecture Montalembert went so far as to argue that liberty of

  thought should include the toleration of heresy and error.

  For his pains Montalembert was reprimanded by the Church and did not appear

  at the next Malines conference the following year. Three months after that

  Congress, Pope Pius IX promulgated his encyclical Quanta Cura, to which was

  appended the Syllabus Errorum detailing the Holy See’s objections to the secular

  state, freedom of conscience and religion, freedom of the press, popular sovereignty,

  and much else. Six years later, in 1870, the Vatican Council affirmed the doctrine

  of papal infallibility. The papacy, to all intents and purposes, had turned its back,

  rightly or wrongly, upon the modern world. Yet not even these measures could put

  an end to what was a genuine and profound disagreement about how the Christian

  religion could best be protected. On the one side stood the traditionalists, con-

  vinced of the incompatibility between faith and reason and that dogmatic intoler-

  ance required political and civil intolerance; on the other were the liberals, intent on

  remaining sincere and loyal Catholics, but determined to effect a reconciliation

  between the Church and modern society and learning. The Church in France had

  made a remarkable and unexpected recovery in the nineteenth century and now

  stood in a stronger position than might ever have been imagined, but the renewal of

  hostilities was not far away. The anticlerical Third Republic awaited.

  262 Montalembert, L’Église libre dans l’État libre (1863). An important part of the context here was a

  discussion of moves towards Italian unification. To Montalembert’s displeasure Cavour took up his

  slogan.

  8

  Positivism, Science, and Philosophy

  I

  On 24 January 1861 an event took place in Paris that no other country could

  replicate and that also provided a fine illustration of the complicated arguments

  that had divided liberal opinion on religious matters during the first half of the

  nineteenth century. On that day Henri-Dominique Lacordaire, follower of

  the Ultramontane Lamennais, was received as one of the forty members of the

  Académie Française. The person he replaced was the Jansenist and Gallican Alexis

  de Tocqueville. The formal welcome to Lacordaire was given by the Protestant

  François Guizot.1 As befitted the occasion and the demands of tradition, Lacor-

  daire’s speech in honour of Tocqueville was as generous as it was uncritical.2

  Coming from a priest, it made repeated mention of Tocqueville as a Christian,

  concluding that Tocqueville had seen the truth of Christianity and of ‘an active,

  living, personal God’, and had served both ‘with no sense of shame’. ‘It was death’,

  Lacordaire announced to his fellow immortels, ‘that brought him the gift of love. He

  received the God who visited him as an old friend and, touched to tears by his

  presence, at last free of the world, he forgot what he had been, his name, his

  services, his regrets, and his desires . . . keeping in his soul only the virtues he had

  gained from his passage here on earth.’3

  From what we know of Tocqueville’s last, desperate days in Cannes this

  reassuring picture of a man secure in the bosom of the Church seems far from

  accurate. It also glosses over the complexities of Tocqueville’s religious beliefs and

  makes no mention of his profound doubts on religious matters. In a (now well-

  known) letter to Madame Swetchine, a woman who had herself been instructed by

  Joseph de Maistre in Russia, he wrote that ‘I believe firmly in another life, since

  God who is supremely just has given us the idea of it; in this other life, I believe in

  the remuneration of good and evil, since God has allowed us to distinguish between

  them and given us the freedom to choose; but beyond these clear ideas, everything

  beyond the bounds of this world seems to me to be surrounded by shadows which

  1 Lacordaire’s election was secured through a coalition of Catholics (including Montalembert),

  Protestants, supporters of Eclecticism (Victor Cousin), and Voltaireans (in this case, Adolphe Thiers):

  see Tocqueville, Œuvres complètes, xvi. Mélanges (1989), 312 n. 1.

  2 ‘Discours de M. Lacordaire’, ibid. 312–31. See also ‘Réponse de M.Guizot’, ibid. 332–45.

  3 ‘Discours de M. Lacordaire’, 326.

  Positivism, Science, and Philosophy

  345

  terrify me.’4 The cousin of the author of Le Génie du Christianisme, it is clear

  that Tocqueville lost the severe Augustinian faith imparted to him in his youth by

  the devoted Abbé Le Sueur and that, for all his lifelong reading of Pascal, he was

  never fully to recover from this early religious crisis. Yet Tocqueville remained

  convinced that religion was ‘as natural to the human heart as hope itself ’.5 And,

  just as importantly, he understood that religion would not die with the advent

  of democracy. ‘The philosophers of the eighteenth century’, Tocqueville wrote,

  ‘had a very simple explanation for the gradual weakening of beliefs. Religious zeal,

  they said, was bound to be extinguished as enlightenment and freedom spread.

  It is tiresome that the facts do not fit the theory at all.’6 Disbelief, he argued, was

  the exception.

  But what sort of religion was this to be?7 One of the first things that the young

  Tocqueville had noticed was that ‘Men of religion combat freedom, and the friends

  of freedom attack religion.’8 This was perplexing because, as he had seen in

  America, Catholicism was no enemy of democracy. Indeed, one of the most

  surprising conclusions he reached during his visit was that Catholicism, rather

  than Protestantism, thrived in a democratic and republican environment.9 More-

  over, he had seen that religion could perform the key function of regulating the

  ‘overly ardent and overly exclusive taste for well-being that men feel in times of

  equality’.10 Viewed ‘from a purely human point of view’, religion curbed the

  potential excesses associated with the materialism and individualism of democratic

  man.

  Yet Tocqueville also saw that democracy would change the nature of religious

  experience, and specifically that the act of worship would be less bound by external

  forms and practices. Religion in the United States, he observed, ‘presents ideas

  more clearly, simply, and generally to the human mind’.11 This was a tendency

  with which Tocqueville had some sympathy and he saw that it was only to be

  expected in a mobile society that the ‘external and secondary’ dimensions of

  religious observance would themselves change. However, with equal conviction

  Tocqueville thought that ‘men cannot do without dogmatic beliefs’ and therefore

  that ‘general ideas about God and human nature are, among all ideas, the ones it is

  most fitting to shield from the habitual action of individual reason and for which

  there is most to gain and least to lose in recognizing an authority’.12 The danger was

  4 Tocqueville, letter of 26 Feb. 1857, in Olivier Zunz and Alan S. Kahan (eds.), The Tocqueville

  Reader: A Life in Letters and Politics (Oxford, 2002), 336.

  5 Tocqueville, De la Démocratie en Amérique, Œuvres complètes (1951), i/1. 310.


  6 Ibid. 308.

  7 See Agnès Antoine, L’Impensé de la démocratie: Tocqueville, la citoyenneté et la religion (2003).

  See also Joshua Mitchell, ‘Tocqueville on Democratic Religious Experience’, in Cheryl B. Welch

  (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Tocqueville (Cambridge, 2006), 276–302; Agnès Antoine,

  ‘Démocratie et religion: le point de vue tocquevillien’, Tocqueville Review, 27/2 (2006), 121–32;

  Pierre Gilbert, ‘Tocqueville et la religion: Entre réflexion politique et confidences épistolaires’,

  Tocqueville Review, 27/2 (2006), 133–48; Frank M. Turner, ‘Alexis de Tocqueville and John

  Stuart Mill on Religion’, Tocqueville Review, 27/2 (2006), 149–72; and Larry Siedentop,

  Tocqueville (Oxford, 1994), 96–112.

  8 Tocqueville, De la Démocratie, 10.

  9 Ibid. i/2. 35–6.

  10 Ibid. 33.

  11 Ibid.

  12 Ibid. 28.

  346

  Positivism, Science, and Philosophy

  that, divested of its ‘general and eternal truths’, Christianity would be reduced to an

  unmediated personal religious experience. The outcome, as Tocqueville correctly

  sensed, would be pantheism.13 Religion, as we now know to our cost, would

  amount to little more than tree hugging.

  But Tocqueville had a further point of considerable significance to make. Men,

  he believed, required ‘very fixed ideas’ about God, their souls, and their general

  duties towards their Creator. Few were they, in his opinion, who could ‘let their

  minds float at random between obedience and freedom’14 and the consequence of

  complete religious independence was a generalized sentiment of doubt throughout

  society. With that came confusion and the sense that all actions were delivered up

  to chance. Men, Tocqueville wrote, were condemned to ‘a sort of disorder and

  impotence’.15

  It is possibly only a slight exaggeration to say that a large proportion of

  the literary and philosophical output of the French nineteenth century was a

  commentary upon and response to that feeling of disorder and impotence. As

  D. G. Charlton remarked some years ago,16 the characteristic temperament of the

  age was one of ‘honest unbelief ’, of religious sensibility estranged from Christian

  belief. This took a variety of forms, not the least being a profound distress and

  regret for lost faith, but included in these responses was the very frequent theme

  that, if it was no longer possible to accept the literal inerrancy of the Bible or the

  truth of Christian doctrines, a religious ethic of some kind was still indispensable

  to the well-being of society as a whole. The nineteenth century therefore saw a

  remarkable proliferation of alternative creeds (many both bizarre and exotic), each

  designed to offer a substitute for a discredited and outmoded Christianity. One of

  these was science itself, raised to the level of a guide to the future of humanity.

  Others took a more prophetic and messianic form. Quite commonly, however,

  there was a shared aspiration to put an end to the epistemological and metaphysical

  uncertainties associated with what continued to be seen by many as the destructive

  and sceptical philosophy of the eighteenth century. In its place there was to be

  provided a new intellectual synthesis appropriate to the conditions of the new

  century. The irony was that, not infrequently, these spiritual offerings came clothed

  in the regalia of the old religion. Ecclesiastical orthodoxy simply reappeared in

  novel (if less convincing and less aesthetically pleasing) garb.

  A key early protagonist in these (and many other) developments was Claude-

  Henri de Rouvray, Comte de Saint-Simon.17 Few men could have had as varied

  and as eventful life as Saint-Simon and few could have been as influential.18 Having

  narrowly escaped both death and financial ruin during the Revolution, he pub-

  lished his first text, Lettres d’un habitant de Genève à ses contemporains, in 1802 and

  13 Tocqueville, De la Démocratie, 37–8.

  14 Ibid. 36.

  15 Ibid. 27.

  16 Charlton, Secular Religions in France 1815–1870 (London, 1963), 1–12.

  17 See Frank E. Manuel, The New World of Henri de Saint-Simon (Cambridge, Mass., 1956);

  Manuel, The Prophets of Paris (Cambridge, Mass., 1962), 103–48; Jack Hayward, After the French

  Revolution: Six Critics of Democracy and Nationalism (Hemel Hempstead, 1991), 65–100.

  18 See Antoine Picon, Les Saint-Simoniens: Raison, imaginaire et utopie (2002) and Christophe

  Prochasson, Saint-Simon ou l’Anti-Marx (2005).

  Positivism, Science, and Philosophy

  347

  from then on he did not cease in his endeavours to establish a set of doctrines

  outlining the principles required to effect the complete reorganization of society

  and the creation of a new terrestrial morality. Moreover, as an admirer of Con-

  dorcet, Saint-Simon developed this analysis within the framework of an account of

  the development of the human mind.

  History, Saint-Simon argued, could be divided into three distinct periods: the

  Greek and Roman; the Christian and medieval; and the scientific or ‘positive’. At

  their height, each of these periods was characterized by a moral or intellectual

  system that bound society together as a unified whole and by a set of political

  institutions in conformity with existing ideas and circumstances. The Christian

  period, for example, had imagined that everything could be explained in terms of

  ‘one universal and unique intelligence’, had been held in concert by the ‘passive

  link’ of the Catholic religion and the ‘active link’ of the clergy, and had formed ‘a

  confederate society united through common institutions and subject to a common

  government’ under the direction of the papacy. As such, it had lived at peace with

  itself.

  According to Saint-Simon, there were two principal phenomena that explained

  the disintegration of the social and political organization of the Christian period.

  The first was the emergence of science, which from the thirteenth century onwards

  began to dislodge theistic explanations of the world. Consequently, over time, it

  came to be seen that ‘the relations between God and the universe were incompre-

  hensible and unimportant’.19 Nothing, it was now established, was to be accepted

  as true unless it was confirmed by reason and experience. The heroes of this process

  were the very same thinkers who had been lambasted by Maistre—Bacon, Des-

  cartes, Newton, and Locke—as it was they who had masterminded the ‘scientific

  revolution’ that had come to fruition with the Enlightenment. They had revealed

  ‘the most essential faults’ of the old ‘religious system’ and ‘constructed the first

  scaffolding for the erection of the new system’.20 Manifestly, Saint-Simon had

  considerable sympathy for this exercise—the philosophers of the eighteenth centu-

  ry had been right to overturn the ‘edifice that the clergy had taken centuries to

  construct’21—but he also saw that, when developed with greater boldness by

  Condillac and Condorcet, the result had been to formulate a ‘general anti-theology’.

  In summary, the Encyclopedists had succeeded in destroying the theological

  system but they had not been able to fashion a new system to repla
ce the one

  they had torn down. ‘The philosophy of the eighteenth century’, Saint-Simon

  concluded, ‘was critical and revolutionary; that of the nineteenth will be inventive

  and constructive.’22

  The second phenomenon serving to undermine the feudal and Christian order

  was the emergence of industry and of an industrial class. Saint-Simon wrote at great

  19 ‘Introduction aux Travaux scientifiques du XIXe siècle’, Œuvres de Claude-Henri de Saint-Simon

  (1966), vi. 155.

  20 Ibid. 25.

  21 ‘Saint-Simon à Chateaubriand’, Œuvres de Saint-Simon (1868), ii. 216.

  22 ‘Sur l’Encyclopédie’, ibid. i. 92.

  348

  Positivism, Science, and Philosophy

  length upon this theme and many of his numerous (and often short-lived and

  unread) publishing initiatives were designed to convey the message that les indus-

  triels, as the most useful class in society, should assume its direction. This was the

  argument to be found in Catéchisme des Industriels, written in 1823.23 Saint-

  Simon’s point was that the aristocratic, military, and religious classes that had

  dominated feudal society had lost their raison d’être, for the simple reason that they

  no longer had any useful function to perform. Similarly, this was the force of the

  parable sketched out in the opening pages of L’Organisateur, where Saint-Simon

  asked his readers to contemplate the loss of ‘all the great officers of the crown, all

  Ministers of State, all the Councillors of State, all chief magistrates, all its marshals,

  all its cardinals, archbishops, vicars-general, and canons’.24 Apart from distress from

  a purely sentimental point of view, Saint-Simon suggested, no harm would be

  caused. Indeed, a hindrance to the progress of society would have been removed.

  Les oisifs, as Saint-Simon derogatively described them, were no more than parasites.

  The first major political expression of this fundamental change in the structure of

  society, Saint-Simon argued, had been the English Civil War. It was, however, to

  France that ‘the natural order of things and the advance of civilization’ had reserved

  ‘the glory of ending the great European Revolution’.25 ‘When the French Revolu-

  tion broke out’, Saint-Simon argued, ‘it was no longer a matter of modifying the

  feudal and theological system which had already lost almost all its force. It was a

 

‹ Prev