"If," says he, "the government be good, let it have its natural duties and powers at its command; but, if not good, let it be made so....We follow, therefore, the true course in looking first for the true idea, or abstract conception of a government, of course with allowance for the evil and frailty that are in man, and then in examining whether there be comprised in that idea a capacity and consequent duty on the part of a government to lay down any laws or devote any means for the purposes of religion,--in short, to exercise a choice upon religion."Of course, Mr.Gladstone has a perfect right to argue any abstract question, provided that he will constantly bear in mind that it is only an abstract question that he is arguing.Whether a perfect government would or would not be a good machinery for the propagation of religious truth is certainly a harmless, and may, for aught we know, be an edifying subject of inquiry.But it is very important that we should remember that there is not, and never has been, any such government in the world.There is no harm at all in inquiring what course a stone thrown into the air would take, if the law of gravitation did not operate.But the consequences would be unpleasant, if the inquirer, as soon as he had finished his calculation, were to begin to throw stones about in all directions, without considering that his conclusion rests on a false hypothesis, and that his projectiles, instead of flying away through infinite space, will speedily return in parabolas, and break the windows and heads of his neighbours.
It is very easy to say that governments are good, or if not good, ought to be made so.But what is meant by good government? And how are all the bad governments in the world to be made good? And of what value is a theory which is true only on a supposition in the highest degree extravagant?
We do not, however, admit that, if a government were, for all its temporal ends, as perfect as human frailty allows, such a government would, therefore, be necessarily qualified to propagate true religion.For we see that the fitness of governments to propagate true religion is by no means proportioned to their fitness for the temporal end of their institution.Looking at individuals, we see that the princes under whose rule nations have been most ably protected from foreign and domestic disturbance, and have made the most rapid advances in civilisation, have been by no means good teachers of divinity.Take for example, the best French sovereign, Henry the Fourth, a king who restored order, terminated a terrible civil war, brought the finances into an excellent condition, made his country respected throughout Europe, and endeared himself to the great body of the people whom he ruled.Yet this man was twice a Huguenot and twice a Papist.He was, as Davila hints, strongly suspected of having no religion at all in theory, and was certainly not much under religious restraints in his practice.
Take the Czar Peter, the Empress Catharine, Frederick the Great.
It will surely not be disputed that these sovereigns, with all their faults, were, if we consider them with reference merely to the temporal ends of government, above the average of merit.
Considered as theological guides, Mr.Gladstone would probably put them below the most abject drivellers of the Spanish branch of the House of Bourbon.Again, when we pass from individuals to systems, we by no means find that the aptitude of governments for propagating religious truth is proportioned to their aptitude for secular functions.Without being blind admirers either of the French or of the American institutions, we think it clear that the persons and property of citizens are better protected in France and in New England than in almost any society that now exists, or that has ever existed; very much better, certainly, than in the Roman Empire under the orthodox rule of Constantine and Theodosius.But neither the Government of France, nor that of New England, is so organised as to be fit for the propagation of theological doctrines.Nor do we think it improbable that the most serious religious errors might prevail in a state which, considered merely with reference to temporal objects, might approach far nearer than any that has ever been known to the idea of what a state should be.
But we shall leave this abstract question, and look at the world as we find it.Does, then, the way in which governments generally obtain their power make it at all probable that they will be more favourable to orthodoxy than to heterodoxy? A nation of barbarians pours down on a rich and unwarlike empire, enslaves the people, portions out the land, and blends the institutions which it finds in the cities with those which it has brought from the woods.A handful of daring adventurers from a civilised nation wander to some savage country, and reduce the aboriginal race to bondage.A successful general turns his arms against the State which he serves.A society made brutal by oppression, rises madly on its masters, sweeps away all old laws and usages, and when its first paroxy** of rage is over, sinks down passively under any form of polity which may spring out of the chaos.Achief of a party, as at Florence, becomes imperceptibly a sovereign, and the founder of a dynasty.A captain of mercenaries, as at Milan, seizes on a city, and by the sword makes himself its ruler.An elective senate, as at Venice, usurps permanent and hereditary power.It is in events such as these that governments have generally originated; and we can see nothing in such events to warrant us in believing that the governments thus called into existence will be peculiarly well fitted to distinguish between religious truth and heresy.
When, again, we look at the constitutions of governments which have become settled, we find no great security for the orthodoxy of rulers.One magistrate holds power because his name was drawn out of a purse; another, because his father held it before him.
