



Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.







THE WORKS OF HONORE De BALZAC

About Catherine de' Medici

Seraphita

AND OTHER STORIES

With Introductions by

GEORGE SAINTSBURY

UNIVERSITY EDITION

AVIL PUBLISHING COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA.

COPYRIGHTED 1901

BY

John D. Avil

_All Rights Reserved_




CONTENTS


PART I

                                                                 PAGE

_INTRODUCTION_                                                     ix

_ABOUT CATHERINE DE' MEDICI_:
              (_Sur Catherine de Medicis_)

PREFACE                                                             3

PART I. THE CALVINIST MARTYR                                       44

 "  II. THE RUGGIERI'S SECRET                                     233

 " III. THE TWO DREAMS                                            308

_GAMBARA_                                                         327

      (_Gambara_)


PART II

_INTRODUCTION_                                                     ix

_SERAPHITA_:

      (_Seraphita_)

I. SERAPHITUS                                                       2

II. SERAPHITA                                                      22

III. SERAPHITA--SERAPHITUS                                         40

IV. THE CLOUDS OF THE SANCTUARY                                    82

V. THE FAREWELL                                                   112

VI. THE ROAD TO HEAVEN                                            123

VII. THE ASSUMPTION                                               134

_LOUIS LAMBERT_                                                   145

      (_Louis Lambert_)

_THE EXILES_

      (_Les Proscrits_)

      ALMAE SORORI                                                259

_MAITRE CORNELIUS_                                                293

      (_Maitre Cornelius_)

_THE ELIXIR OF LIFE_                                              359

      (_L'Elixir de longue Vie_)

      (Translators, CLARA BELL AND JAMES WARING)




ILLUSTRATIONS


PART I

QUADRANGLE OF THE COLLEGE OF VENDOME WHERE
BALZAC WAS EDUCATED                                   _Frontispiece_

                                                                 PAGE

"I AM CHAUDIEU!"                                                   53

PLACED HIMSELF IN FRONT OF A LOOKING-GLASS                        328


PART II

TOWER IN WHICH BALZAC PASSED MOST OF HIS TIME
AT COLLEGE                                                        164

HE NOW SAW WITH A TERRIFIED SHUDDER THAT THERE
WAS A BRIGHT LIGHT ON THE STAIRS, AND PERCEIVED
CORNELIUS, IN HIS OLD DALMATIC, CARRYING
HIS LAMP                                                          324




ABOUT CATHERINE DE' MEDICI

AND

GAMBARA




INTRODUCTION


This book (as to which it is important to remember the _Sur_ if injustice
is not to be done to the intentions of the author) has plenty of interest
of more kinds than one; but it is perhaps more interesting because of the
place it holds in Balzac's work than for itself. He had always considerable
hankerings after the historical novel: his early and lifelong devotion to
Scott would sufficiently account for that. More than one of the _Oeuvres
de Jeunesse_ attempts the form in a more or less conscious way: the
_Chouans_, the first successful book, definitely attempts it; but by far
the most ambitious attempt is to be found in the book before us. It is most
probable that it was of this, if of anything of his own, that Balzac was
thinking when, in 1846, he wrote disdainfully to Madame Hanska about Dumas,
and expressed himself towards _Les Trois Mousquetaires_ (which had whiled
him through a day of cold and inability to work) nearly as ungratefully as
Carlyle did towards Captain Marryat. And though it is, let it be repeated,
a mistake, and a rather unfair mistake, to give such a title to the book as
might induce readers to regard it as a single and definite novel, of which
Catherine is the heroine, though it is made up of three parts written at
very different times, it has a unity which the introduction shows to some
extent, and which a rejected preface given by M. de Lovenjoul shows still
better.

To understand this, we must remember that Balzac, though not exactly an
historical scholar, was a considerable student of history; and that,
although rather an amateur politician, he was a constant thinker and writer
on political subjects. We must add to these remembrances the fact of his
intense interest in all such matters as Alchemy, the Elixir of Life, and so
forth, to which the sixteenth century in general, and Catherine de' Medici
in particular, were known to be devoted. All these interests of his met in
the present book, the parts of which appeared in inverse order, and the
genesis of which is important enough to make it desirable to incorporate
some of the usual bibliographical matter in the substance of this preface.
The third and shortest, _Les Deux Reves_, a piece partly suggestive of the
famous _Prophecy of Cazotte_ and other legends of the Revolution (but with
more retrospective than prospective view), is dated as early as 1828
(before the turning-point), and was actually published in a periodical in
1830. _La Confidence des Ruggieri_, written in 1836 (and, as I have noted
in the general introduction, according to its author, in a single night)
followed, and _Le Martyr Calviniste_, which had several titles, and was
advertised as in preparation for a long time, did not come till 1841.

It is unnecessary to say that all are interesting. The personages, both
imaginary and historical, appear at times in a manner worthy of Balzac;
many separate scenes are excellent; and, to those who care to perceive
them, the various occupations of the author appear in the most interesting
manner. Politically, his object was, at least by his own account, to defend
the maxim that private and public morality are different; that the policy
of a state cannot be, and ought not to be, governed by the same
considerations of duty to its neighbors as those which ought to govern the
conduct of an individual. The very best men--those least liable to the
slightest imputation of corrupt morals and motives--have endorsed this
principle; though it has been screamed at by a few fanatics, a somewhat
larger number of persons who found their account in so doing, and a great
multitude of hasty, dense, or foolish folk. But it was something of a mark
of that amateurishness which spoilt Balzac's dealing with the subject to
choose the sixteenth century for his text. For every cool-headed student of
history and ethics will admit that it was precisely the abuse of this
principle at this time, and by persons of whom Catherine de' Medici, if not
the most blamable, has had the most blame put on her, that brought the
principle itself into discredit. Between the assertion that the strictest
morality of the Sermon on the Mount must obtain between nation and nation,
between governor and governed, and the maxim that in politics the end of
public safety justifies _any_ means whatever, there is a perfectly immense
gulf fixed.

If, however, we turn from this somewhat academic point, and do not dwell
very much on the occult and magical sides of the matter, interesting as
they are, we shall be brought at once face to face with the question, Is
the handling of this book the right and proper one for an historical novel?
Can we in virtue of it rank Balzac (this is the test which he would
himself, beyond all question, have accepted) a long way above Dumas and
near Scott?

I must say that I can see no possibility of answer except, "Certainly not."
For the historical novel depends almost more than any other division of the
kind upon interest of story. Interest of story is not, as has been several
times pointed out, at any time Balzac's main appeal, and he has succeeded
in it here less than in most other places. He has discussed too much; he
has brought in too many personages without sufficient interest of plot;
but, above all, he exhibits throughout an incapacity to handle his
materials in the peculiar way required. How long he was before he grasped
"the way to do it," even on his own special lines, is the commonplace and
refrain of all writing about him. Now, to this special kind he gave
comparatively little attention, and the result is that he mastered it less
than any other. In the best stories of Dumas (and the best number some
fifteen or twenty at least) the interest of narrative, of adventure, of
what will happen to the personages, takes you by the throat at once, and
never lets you go till the end. There is little or nothing of this sort
here. The three stories are excellently well-informed studies, very curious
and interesting in divers ways. The _Ruggieri_ is perhaps something more;
but it is, as its author no doubt honestly entitled it, much more an _Etude
Philosophique_ than an historical novelette. In short, this was not
Balzac's way. We need not be sorry--it is very rarely necessary to be
that--that he tried it; we may easily forgive him for not recognizing the
ease and certainty with which Dumas trod the path. But we should be most of
all thankful that he did not himself enter it frequently, or ever pursue it
far.

The most important part of the bibliography of the book has been given
above. The rest is a little complicated, and for its ins and outs reference
must be made to the usual authority. It should be enough to say that the
_Martyr_, under the title of _Les Lecamus_, first appeared in the _Siecle_
during the spring of 1841. Souverain published it as a book two years later
with the other two, as _Catherine de Medicis Expliquee_. The second part,
entitled, not _La Confidence_, but _Le Secret des Ruggieri_, had appeared
much earlier in the _Chronique de Paris_ during the winter of 1836-37, and
had been published as a book in the latter year; it was joined to
_Catherine de Medicis Expliquee_ as above. The third part, after appearing
in the _Monde_ as early as May 1830, also appeared in the _Deux Mondes_ for
December of the same year, then became one of the _Romans et Contes
Philosophiques_, then an _Etude Philosophique_, and in 1843 joined
_Catherine de Medicis Expliquee_. The whole was inserted in the _Comedie_
in 1846.

                                        G. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Gambara_ exhibits a curious and, it must be admitted, a somewhat
incoherent mixture of two of Balzac's chief outside interests--Italy and
music. In his helter-skelter ramblings, indulged in despite his enormous
literary labors, he took many a peep at Italy; and it is evident that for
him the country exercised a powerful fascination. In his eyes it was
ideal--ideal in its music, in its painting, and in those who fanned the
fires divine. His affection for Italy was, in fact, about as ardent and
untutored as that for the arts. The story of _Gambara_ is an illustration
of these two sentiments; it can best be understood when the author's
attitude is known.

There is a little about the forceful character of Andrea Marcosini that
reminds one of de Marsay. He has an inherent nobleness unknown to the
latter, but unfortunately made subservient to a banality which even the
genius of Balzac cannot efface. This marring clause of the Count and
Marianna is hardly to be excused on the ground of dramatic necessity, since
other themes of this nature are not cloyed by baser earth. The introductory
scene in the restaurant is good, and stands out brightly contrasted with
Gambara's music-ravings and the faint echo of Giardini's cookery conceits.
Each is but the quest of something unattained--a note more grandly uttered
in _La Peau de Chagrin_, or _La Recherche de l'Absolu_, or the wonderful
sketch, _Le Chef d'Oeuvre Inconnu_. But as a fresh embodiment of this
thought, _Gambara_ may be welcomed, for in such themes as these the
novelist is most distinctly in his element.

The first appearance of _Gambara_ was in the _Revue et Gazette Musicale de
Paris_ during July and August 1837, in four chapters and a conclusion. In
1839 it was included in a book with the _Cabinet des Antiques_. Ten years
later it was included as _Le Livre des Douleurs_ with _Seraphita_, _Les
Proscrits_, and _Massimilla Doni_. It took its place in the _Comedie_ in
1846.




ABOUT CATHERINE DE' MEDICI

     _To Monsieur le Marquis de Pastoret, Member of the
     Academie des Beaux-Arts._


When we consider the amazing number of volumes written to ascertain the
spot where Hannibal crossed the Alps, without our knowing to this day
whether it was, as Whitaker and Rivaz say, by Lyons, Geneva, the
Saint-Bernard, and the Valley of Aosta; or, as we are told by Letronne,
Follard, Saint-Simon, and Fortia d'Urban, by the Isere, Grenoble,
Saint-Bonnet, Mont Genevre, Fenestrella, and the Pass of Susa, or,
according to Larauza, by the Mont Cenis and Susa; or, as Strabo, Polybius
and de Luc tell us, by the Rhone, Vienne, Yenne, and the Mont du Chat; or,
as certain clever people opine, by Genoa, la Bochetta, and la Scrivia--the
view I hold, and which Napoleon had adopted--to say nothing of the vinegar
with which some learned men have dressed the Alpine rocks, can we wonder,
Monsieur le Marquis, to find modern history so much neglected that some
most important points remain obscure, and that the most odious calumnies
still weigh on names which ought to be revered?--And it may be noted
incidentally that by dint of explanations it has become problematical
whether Hannibal ever crossed the Alps at all. Father Menestrier believes
that the Scoras spoken of by Polybius was the Saome; Letronne, Larauza, and
Schweighauser believe it to be the Isere; Cochard, a learned man of Lyons,
identifies it with the Drome. But to any one who has eyes, are there not
striking geographical and linguistic affinities between Scoras and Scrivia,
to say nothing of the almost certain fact that the Carthaginian fleet lay
at la Spezzia or in the Gulf of Genoa?

I could understand all this patient research if the battle of Cannae could
be doubted; but since its consequences are well known, what is the use of
blackening so much paper with theories that are but the Arabesque of
hypothesis, so to speak; while the most important history of later times,
that of the Reformation, is so full of obscurities that the name remains
unknown of the man[A] who was making a boat move by steam at Barcelona at
the time when Luther and Calvin were inventing the revolt of mind?

We, I believe, after having made, each in his own way, the same
investigation as to the great and noble character of Catherine de' Medici,
have come to the same opinion. So I thought that my historical studies on
the subject might be suitably dedicated to a writer who has labored so long
on the history of the Reformation; and that I should thus do public homage,
precious perhaps for its rarity, to the character and fidelity of a man
true to the Monarchy.

                                        PARIS, _January 1842_.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] The inventor of this experiment was probably Salomon of Caux, not of
Caus. This great man was always unlucky; after his death even his name was
misspelt. Salomon, whose original portrait, at the age of forty-six, was
discovered by the author of the _Human Comedy_, was born at Caux, in
Normandy.




PREFACE


When men of learning are struck by a historical blunder, and try to correct
it, "Paradox!" is generally the cry; but to those who thoroughly examine
the history of modern times, it is evident that historians are privileged
liars, who lend their pen to popular beliefs, exactly as most of the
newspapers of the day express nothing but the opinions of their readers.

Historical independence of thought has been far less conspicuous among lay
writers than among the priesthood. The purest light thrown on history has
come from the Benedictines, one of the glories of France--so long, that is
to say, as the interests of the monastic orders are not in question. Since
the middle of the eighteenth century, some great and learned
controversialists have arisen who, struck by the need for rectifying
certain popular errors to which historians have lent credit, have published
some remarkable works. Thus Monsieur Launoy, nicknamed the Evicter of
Saints, made ruthless war on certain saints who have sneaked into the
Church Calendar. Thus the rivals of the Benedictines, the two little known
members of the Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres, began their
_memoires_, their studious notes, full of patience, erudition, and logic,
on certain obscure passages of history. Thus Voltaire, with an unfortunate
bias, and sadly perverted passions, often brought the light of his
intellect to bear on historical prejudices. Diderot, with this end in view,
began a book--much too long--on a period of the history of Imperial Rome.
But for the French Revolution, criticism, as applied to history, might
perhaps have laid up the materials for a good and true history of France,
for which evidence had long been amassed by the great French Benedictines.
Louis XVI., a man of clear mind, himself translated the English work,
which so much agitated the last century, in which Walpole tried to explain
the career of Richard III.

How is it that persons so famous as kings and queens, so important as
generals of great armies, become objects of aversion or derision? Half the
world hesitates between the song on Marlborough and the history of England,
as they do between popular tradition and history as concerning Charles IX.

At all periods when great battles are fought between the masses and the
authorities, the populace creates an _ogresque_ figure--to coin a word for
the sake of its exactitude. Thus in our own time, but for the _Memorials of
Saint-Helena_, and the controversies of Royalists and Bonapartists, there
was scarcely a chance but that Napoleon would have been misunderstood.
Another Abbe de Pradt or two, a few more newspaper articles, and Napoleon
from an Emperor would have become an Ogre.

How is error propagated and accredited? The mystery is accomplished under
our eyes without our discerning the process. No one suspects how greatly
printing has helped to give body both to the envy which attends persons in
high places, and to the popular irony which sums up the converse view of
every great historical fact. For instance, every bad horse in France that
needs flogging is called after the Prince de Polignac; and so who knows
what opinion the future may hold as to the Prince de Polignac's _coup
d'Etat_? In consequence of a caprice of Shakespeare's--a stroke of revenge
perhaps, like that of Beaumarchais on Bergasse (Begearss)--Falstaff, in
England, is a type of the grotesque; his name raises a laugh, he is the
King of Buffoons. Now, instead of being enormously fat, ridiculously
amorous, vain, old, drunken, and a corrupter of youth, Falstaff was one of
the most important figures of his time, a Knight of the Garter, holding
high command. At the date of Henry V.'s accession, Falstaff was at most
four-and-thirty. This General, who distinguished himself at the battle of
Agincourt, where he took the Duc d'Alencon prisoner, in 1420 took the town
of Montereau, which was stoutly defended. Finally, under Henry VI., he beat
ten thousand Frenchmen with fifteen hundred men who were dropping with
fatigue and hunger. So much for valor!

If we turn to literature, Rabelais, among the French, a sober man who drank
nothing but water, is thought of as a lover of good cheer and a persistent
sot. Hundreds of absurd stories have been coined concerning the author of
one of the finest books in French literature, _Pantagruel_.

Aretino, Titian's friend, and the Voltaire of his day, is now credited with
a reputation, in complete antagonism with his works and character, which he
acquired by his over free wit, characteristic of the writings of an age
when gross jests were held in honor, and queens and cardinals indited tales
which are now considered licentious. Instances might be infinitely
multiplied.

In France, and at the most important period of our history, Catherine de'
Medici has suffered more from popular error than any other woman, unless it
be Brunehaut or Fredegonde; while Marie de' Medici, whose every action was
prejudicial to France, has escaped the disgrace that should cover her name.
Marie dissipated the treasure amassed by Henri IV.; she never purged
herself of the suspicion that she was cognizant of his murder; Epernon, who
had long known Ravaillac, and who did not parry his blow, was _intimate_
with the Queen; she compelled her son to banish her from France, where she
was fostering the rebellion of her other son, Gaston; and Richelieu's
triumph over her on the _Journee des Dupes_ was due solely to the
Cardinal's revealing to Louis XIII. certain documents secreted after the
death of Henri IV.

Catherine de' Medici, on the contrary, saved the throne of France, she
maintained the Royal authority under circumstances to which more than one
great prince would have succumbed. Face to face with such leaders of the
factions and ambitions of the houses of Guise and of Bourbon as the two
Cardinals de Lorraine and the two "Balafres," the two Princes de Conde,
Queen Jeanne d'Albret, Henri IV., the Connetable de Montmorency, Calvin,
the Colignys, and Theodore de Beze, she was forced to put forth the rarest
fine qualities, the most essential gifts of statesmanship, under the fire
of the Calvinist press. These, at any rate, are indisputable facts. And to
the student who digs deep into the history of the sixteenth century in
France, the figure of Catherine de' Medici stands out as that of a great
king.

When once calumnies are undermined by facts laboriously brought to light
from under the contradictions of pamphlets and false anecdotes, everything
is explained to the glory of this wonderful woman, who had none of the
weakness of her sex, who lived chaste in the midst of the gallantries of
the most licentious Court in Europe, and who, notwithstanding her lack of
money, erected noble buildings, as if to make good the losses caused by the
destructive Calvinists, who injured Art as deeply as they did the body
politic.

Hemmed in between a race of princes who proclaimed themselves the heirs of
Charlemagne, and a factious younger branch that was eager to bury the
Connetable de Bourbon's treason under the throne; obliged, too, to fight
down a heresy on the verge of devouring the Monarchy, without friends, and
aware of treachery in the chiefs of the Catholic party and of republicanism
in the Calvinists, Catherine used the most dangerous but the surest of
political weapons--Craft. She determined to deceive by turns the party that
was anxious to secure the downfall of the House of Valois, the Bourbons who
aimed at the Crown, and the Reformers--the Radicals of that day, who
dreamed of an impossible republic, like those of our own day, who, however,
have nothing to reform. Indeed, so long as she lived, the Valois sat on the
throne. The great de Thou understood the worth of this woman when he
exclaimed, on hearing of her death:

"It is not a woman, it is Royalty that dies in her!"

Catherine had, in fact, the sense of Royalty in the highest degree, and she
defended it with admirable courage and persistency. The reproaches flung
at her by Calvinist writers are indeed her glory; she earned them solely by
her triumphs. And how was she to triumph but by cunning? Here lies the
whole question.

As to violence--that method bears on one of the most hotly disputed points
of policy, which, in recent days, has been answered here, on the spot where
a big stone from Egypt has been placed to wipe out the memory of regicide,
and to stand as an emblem of the materialistic policy which now rules us;
it was answered at les Carmes and at the Abbaye; it was answered on the
steps of Saint Roch; it was answered in front of the Louvre in 1830, and
again by the people against the King, as it has since been answered once
more by la Fayette's "best of all republics" against the republican
rebellion, at Saint-Merri and the Rue Transnonnain.

Every power, whether legitimate or illegitimate, must defend itself when it
is attacked; but, strange to say, while the people is heroic when it
triumphs over the nobility, the authorities are murderers when they oppose
the people! And, finally, if after their appeal to force they succumb, they
are regarded as effete idiots. The present Government (1840) will try to
save itself, by two laws, from the same evil as attacked Charles X., and
which he tried to scotch by two decrees. Is not this a bitter mockery? May
those in power meet cunning with cunning? Ought they to kill those who try
to kill them?

The massacres of the Revolution are the reply to the massacre of
Saint-Bartholomew. The People, being King, did by the nobility and the King
as the King and the nobility did by the rebels in the sixteenth century.
And popular writers, who know full well that, under similar conditions, the
people would do the same again, are inexcusable when they blame Catherine
de' Medici and Charles IX.

"All power is a permanent conspiracy," said Casimir Perier, when teaching
what power ought to be. We admire the anti-social maxims published by
audacious writers; why, then, are social truths received in France with
such disfavor when they are boldly stated? This question alone
sufficiently accounts for historical mistakes. Apply the solution of this
problem to the devastating doctrines which flatter popular passion, and to
the conservative doctrines which would repress the ferocious or foolish
attempts of the populace, and you will see the reason why certain
personages are popular or unpopular. Laubardemont and Laffemas, like some
people now living, were devoted to the maintenance of the power they
believed in. Soldiers and judges, they obeyed a Royal authority. D'Orthez,
in our day, would be discharged from office for misinterpreting orders from
the Ministry, but Charles X. left him to govern his province. The power of
the masses is accountable to no one; the power of one is obliged to account
to its subjects, great and small alike.

Catherine, like Philip II. and the Duke of Alva, like the Guises and
Cardinal Granvelle, foresaw the future to which the Reformation was dooming
Europe. They saw monarchies, religion, and power all overthrown. Catherine,
from the Cabinet of the French kings, forthwith issued sentence of death on
that inquiring spirit which threatened modern society--a sentence which
Louis XIV. finally carried out. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes was a
measure that proved unfortunate, simply in consequence of the irritation
Louis XIV. had aroused in Europe. At any other time England, Holland, and
the German Empire would not have encouraged on their territory French
exiles and French rebels.

Why, in these days, refuse to recognize the greatness which the majestic
adversary of that most barren heresy derived from the struggle itself?
Calvinists have written strongly against Charles IX.'s stratagems; but
travel through France: as you see the ruins of so many fine churches
destroyed, and consider the vast breaches made by religious fanatics in the
social body; when you learn the revenges they took, while deploring the
mischief of individualism--the plague of France to-day, of which the germ
lay in the questions of liberty of conscience which they stirred up--you
will ask yourself on which side were the barbarians. There are always, as
Catherine says in the third part of this Study, "unluckily, in all ages,
hypocritical writers ready to bewail two hundred scoundrels killed in due
season." Caesar, who tried to incite the Senate to pity for Catiline's
party, would very likely have conquered Cicero if he had had newspapers and
an Opposition at his service.

Another consideration accounts for Catherine's historical and popular
disfavor. In France the Opposition has always been Protestant, because its
policy has never been anything but negative; it has inherited the theories
of the Lutherans, the Calvinists, and the Protestants on the terrible texts
of liberty, tolerance, progress, and philanthropy. The opponents of power
spent two centuries in establishing the very doubtful doctrine of freewill.
Two more were spent in working out the first corollary of freewill--liberty
of conscience. Our age is striving to prove the second--political liberty.

Standing between the fields already traversed and the fields as yet
untrodden, Catherine and the Church proclaimed the salutary principle of
modern communities, _Una fides, unus Dominus_, but asserting their right of
life and death over all innovators. Even if she had been conquered,
succeeding times have shown that Catherine was right. The outcome of
freewill, religious liberty, and political liberty (note, this does not
mean _civil_ liberty) is France as we now see it.

And what is France in 1840? A country exclusively absorbed in material
interests, devoid of patriotism, devoid of conscience; where authority is
powerless; where electoral rights, the fruit of freewill and political
liberty, raise none but mediocrities; where brute force is necessary to
oppose the violence of the populace; where discussion, brought to bear on
the smallest matter, checks every action of the body politic; and where
individualism--the odious result of the indefinite subdivision of property,
which destroys family cohesion--will devour everything, even the nation,
which sheer selfishness will some day lay open to invasion. Men will say,
"Why not the Tzar?" as they now say, "Why not the Duc d'Orleans?" We do
not care for many things even now; fifty years hence we shall care for
nothing.

Therefore, according to Catherine--and according to all who wish to see
Society soundly organized--man as a social unit, as a subject, has no
freewill, has no right to accept the dogma of liberty of conscience, or to
have political liberty. Still, as no community can subsist without some
guarantee given to the subject against the sovereign, the subject derives
from that certain liberties under restrictions. Liberty--no, but
liberties--yes; well defined and circumscribed liberties. This is in the
nature of things. For instance, it is beyond human power to fetter freedom
of thought; and no sovereign may ever tamper with money.

The great politicians who have failed in this long contest--it has gone on
for five centuries--have allowed their subjects wide liberties; but they
never recognize their liberty to publish anti-social opinions, nor the
unlimited freedom of the subject. To them the words _subject_ and _free_
are, politically speaking, a contradiction in terms; and, in the same way,
the statement that all citizens are equal is pure nonsense, and
contradicted by Nature every hour. To acknowledge the need for religion,
the need for authority, and at the same time to leave all men at liberty to
deny religion, to attack its services, to oppose the exercise of authority
by the public and published expression of opinion, is an impossibility such
as the Catholics of the sixteenth century would have nothing to say to.
Alas! the triumph of Calvinism will cost France more yet than it has ever
done; for the sects of to-day--religious, political, humanitarian, and
leveling--are the train of Calvinism; and when we see the blunders of those
in power, their contempt for intelligence, their devotion to those material
interests in which they seek support, and which are the most delusive of
all props, unless by the special aid of Providence the genius of
destruction must certainly win the day from the genius of conservatism. The
attacking forces, who have nothing to lose, and everything to win, are