At first men had no kings save the gods, and no government save theocracy.

They reasoned like Caligula, and, at that period, reasoned aright.

It takes a long time for feeling so to change that men can make up their minds to take their equals as masters, in the hope that they will profit by doing so.

 From the mere fact that God was set over every political society, it followed that there were as many gods as peoples.

Two peoples that were strangers the one to the other, and almost always enemies, could not long recognise the same master: two armies giving battle could not obey the same leader.

National divisions thus led to polytheism, and this in turn gave rise to theological and civil intolerance, which, as we shall see hereafter, are by nature the same.

 The fancy the Greeks had for rediscovering their gods among the barbarians arose from the way they had of regarding themselves as the natural Sovereigns of such peoples.

But there is nothing so absurd as the erudition which in our days identifies and confuses gods of different nations.

As if Moloch, Saturn and Chronos could be the same god!

As if the Phœnician Baal, the Greek Zeus, and the Latin Jupiter could be the same!

As if there could still be anything common to imaginary beings with different names!

 If it is asked how in pagan times, where each State had its cult and its gods, there were no wars of religion, I answer that it was precisely because each State, having its own cult as well as its own government, made no distinction between its gods and its laws.

Political war was also theological;

the provinces of the gods were, so to speak, fixed by the boundaries of nations.

The god of one people had no right over another.

The gods of the pagans were not jealous gods;

they shared among themselves the empire of the world: even Moses and the Hebrews sometimes lent themselves to this view by speaking of the God of Israel.

It is true, they regarded as powerless the gods of the Canaanites, a proscribed people condemned to destruction, whose place they were to take;

but remember how they spoke of the divisions of the neighbouring peoples they were forbidden to attack!

“Is not the possession of what belongs to your god Chamos lawfully your due?” said Jephthah to the Ammonites.

“We have the same title to the lands our conquering God has made his own.”

Here, I think, there is a recognition that the rights of Chamos and those of the God of Israel are of the same nature.

 But when the Jews, being subject to the kings of Babylon, and, subsequently, to those of Syria, still obstinately refused to recognise any god save their own, their refusal was regarded as rebellion against their conqueror, and drew down on them the persecutions we read of in their history, which are without parallel till the coming of Christianity.

 Every religion, therefore, being attached solely to the laws of the State which prescribed it, there was no way of converting a people except by enslaving it, and there could be no missionaries save conquerors.

The obligation to change cults being the law to which the vanquished yielded, it was necessary to be victorious before suggesting such a change.

So far from men fighting for the gods, the gods, as in Homer, fought for men;

each asked his god for victory, and repayed him with new altars.

The Romans, before taking a city, summoned its gods to quit it;

and, in leaving the Tarentines their outraged gods, they regarded them as subject to their own and compelled to do them homage.

They left the vanquished their gods as they left them their laws.

A wreath to the Jupiter of the Capitol was often the only tribute they imposed.

 Finally, when, along with their empire, the Romans had spread their cult and their gods, and had themselves often adopted those of the vanquished, by granting to both alike the rights of the city, the peoples of that vast empire insensibly found themselves with multitudes of gods and cults, everywhere almost the same;

and thus paganism throughout the known world finally came to be one and the same religion.

 It was in these circumstances that Jesus came to set up on earth a spiritual kingdom, which, by separating the theological from the political system, made the State no longer one, and brought about the internal divisions which have never ceased to trouble Christian peoples.

As the new idea of a kingdom of the other world could never have occurred to pagans, they always looked on the Christians as really rebels, who, while feigning to submit, were only waiting for the chance to make themselves independent and their masters, and to usurp by guile the authority they pretended in their weakness to respect.

This was the cause of the persecutions.

 What the pagans had feared took place.

Then everything changed its aspect: the humble Christians changed their language, and soon this so-called kingdom of the other world turned, under a visible leader, into the most violent of earthly despotisms.

 However, as there have always been a prince and civil laws, this double power and conflict of jurisdiction have made all good polity impossible in Christian States;

and men have never succeeded in finding out whether they were bound to obey the master or the priest.

 Several peoples, however, even in Europe and its neighbourhood, have desired without success to preserve or restore the old system: but the spirit of Christianity has everywhere prevailed.

The sacred cult has always remained or again become independent of the Sovereign, and there has been no necessary link between it and the body of the State.

Mahomet held very sane views, and linked his political system well together;

and, as long as the form of his government continued under the caliphs who succeeded him, that government was indeed one, and so far good.

But the Arabs, having grown prosperous, lettered, civilised, slack and cowardly, were conquered by barbarians:

the division between the two powers began again;

and, although it is less apparent among the Mahometans than among the Christians, it none the less exists, especially in the sect of Ali, and there are States, such as Persia, where it is continually making itself felt.

 Among us, the Kings of England have made themselves heads of the Church, and the Czars have done the same: but this title has made them less its masters than its ministers;

they have gained not so much the right to change it, as the power to maintain it: they are not its legislators, but only its princes.

Wherever the clergy is a corporate body, it is master and legislator in its own country.

There are thus two powers, two Sovereigns, in England and in Russia, as well as elsewhere.

 Of all Christian writers, the philosopher Hobbes alone has seen the evil and how to remedy it, and has dared to propose the reunion of the two heads of the eagle, and the restoration throughout of political unity, without which no State or government will ever be rightly constituted.

But he should have seen that the masterful spirit of Christianity is incompatible with his system, and that the priestly interest would always be stronger than that of the State.

It is not so much what is false and terrible in his political theory, as what is just and true, that has drawn down hatred on it.

 I believe that if the study of history were developed from this point of view, it would be easy to refute the contrary opinions of Bayle and Warburton, one of whom holds that religion can be of no use to the body politic, while the other, on the contrary, maintains that Christianity is its strongest support.

We should demonstrate to the former that no State has ever been founded without a religious basis, and to the latter, that the law of Christianity at bottom does more harm by weakening than good by strengthening the constitution of the State.

To make myself understood, I have only to make a little more exact the too vague ideas of religion as relating to this subject.

 Religion, considered in relation to society, which is either general or particular, may also be divided into two kinds: the religion of man, and that of the citizen.

The first, which has neither temples, nor altars, nor rites, and is confined to the purely internal cult of the supreme God and the eternal obligations of morality, is the religion of the Gospel pure and simple, the true theism, what may be called natural divine right or law.

The other, which is codified in a single country, gives it its gods, its own tutelary patrons;

it has its dogmas, its rites, and its external cult prescribed by law;

outside the single nation that follows it, all the world is in its sight infidel, foreign and barbarous;

the duties and rights of man extend for it only as far as its own altars.

Of this kind were all the religions of early peoples, which we may define as civil or positive divine right or law.

 There is a third sort of religion of a more singular kind, which gives men two codes of legislation, two rulers, and two countries, renders them subject to contradictory duties, and makes it impossible for them to be faithful both to religion and to citizenship.

Such are the religions of the Lamas and of the Japanese, and such is Roman Christianity, which may be called the religion of the priest.

It leads to a sort of mixed and anti-social code which has no name.

 In their political aspect, all these three kinds of religion have their defects.

The third is so clearly bad, that it is waste of time to stop to prove it such.

All that destroys social unity is worthless;

all institutions that set man in contradiction to himself are worthless.

 The second is good in that it unites the divine cult with love of the laws, and, making country the object of the citizens' adoration, teaches them that service done to the State is service done to its tutelary god.

It is a form of theocracy, in which there can be no pontiff save the prince, and no priests save the magistrates.

To die for one's country then becomes martyrdom;

violation of its laws, impiety;

and to subject one who is guilty to public execration is to condemn him to the anger of the gods: Sacer estod.

 On the other hand, it is bad in that, being founded on lies and error, it deceives men, makes them credulous and superstitious, and drowns the true cult of the Divinity in empty ceremonial.

It is bad, again, when it becomes tyrannous and exclusive, and makes a people bloodthirsty and intolerant, so that it breathes fire and slaughter, and regards as a sacred act the killing of every one who does not believe in its gods.

The result is to place such a people in a natural state of war with all others, so that its security is deeply endangered.

 There remains therefore the religion of man or Christianity—not the Christianity of to-day, but that of the Gospel, which is entirely different.

By means of this holy, sublime, and real religion all men, being children of one God, recognise one another as brothers, and the society that unites them is not dissolved even at death.

 But this religion, having no particular relation to the body politic, leaves the laws in possession of the force they have in themselves without making any addition to it;

and thus one of the great bonds that unite society considered in severalty fails to operate.

Nay, more, so far from binding the hearts of the citizens to the State, it has the effect of taking them away from all earthly things.

I know of nothing more contrary to the social spirit.

 We are told that a people of true Christians would form the most perfect society imaginable.

I see in this supposition only one great difficulty: that a society of true Christians would not be a society of men.

 I say further that such a society, with all its perfection, would be neither the strongest nor the most lasting:

the very fact that it was perfect would rob it of its bond of union;

the flaw that would destroy it would lie in its very perfection.

 Every one would do his duty;

the people would be law-abiding, the rulers just and temperate;

the magistrates upright and incorruptible;

the soldiers would scorn death;

there would be neither vanity nor luxury.

So far, so good; but let us hear more.

 Christianity as a religion is entirely spiritual, occupied solely with heavenly things;

the country of the Christian is not of this world.

He does his duty, indeed, but does it with profound indifference to the good or ill success of his cares.

Provided he has nothing to reproach himself with, it matters little to him whether things go well or ill here on earth.

If the State is prosperous, he hardly dares to share in the public happiness, for fear he may grow proud of his country's glory;

if the State is languishing, he blesses the hand of God that is hard upon His people.

 For the State to be peaceable and for harmony to be maintained, all the citizens without exception would have to be good Christians; if by ill hap there should be a single self-seeker or hypocrite, a Catiline or a Cromwell, for instance, he would certainly get the better of his pious compatriots.

Christian charity does not readily allow a man to think hardly of his neighbours.

As soon as, by some trick, he has discovered the art of imposing on them and getting hold of a share in the public authority, you have a man established in dignity;

it is the will of God that he be respected: very soon you have a power;

it is God's will that it be obeyed: and if the power is abused by him who wields it, it is the scourge wherewith God punishes His children.

There would be scruples about driving out the usurper: public tranquillity would have to be disturbed, violence would have to be employed, and blood spilt;

all this accords ill with Christian meekness;

and after all, in this vale of sorrows, what does it matter whether we are free men or serfs?

The essential thing is to get to heaven, and resignation is only an additional means of doing so.

 If war breaks out with another State, the citizens march readily out to battle;

not one of them thinks of flight;

they do their duty, but they have no passion for victory;

they know better how to die than how to conquer.

What does it matter whether they win or lose?

Does not Providence know better than they what is meet for them?

Only think to what account a proud, impetuous and passionate enemy could turn their stoicism!

Set over against them those generous peoples who were devoured by ardent love of glory and of their country, imagine your Christian republic face to face with Sparta or Rome: the pious Christians will be beaten, crushed and destroyed, before they know where they are, or will owe their safety only to the contempt their enemy will conceive for them.

It was to my mind a fine oath that was taken by the soldiers of Fabius, who swore, not to conquer or die, but to come back victorious—and kept their oath.

Christians, would never have taken such an oath;

they would have looked on it as tempting God.

 But I am mistaken in speaking of a Christian republic;

the terms are mutually exclusive.

Christianity preaches only servitude and dependence.

Its spirit is so favourable to tyranny that it always profits by such a régime.

True Christians are made to be slaves, and they know it and do not much mind: this short life counts for too little in their eyes.

 I shall be told that Christian troops are excellent.

I deny it. Show me an instance.

For my part, I know of no Christian troops.

I shall be told of the Crusades. Without disputing the valour of the Crusaders, I answer that, so far from being Christians, they were the priests' soldiery, citizens of the Church.

They fought for their spiritual country, which the Church had, somehow or other, made temporal.

Well understood, this goes back to paganism: as the Gospel sets up no national religion, a holy war is impossible among Christians.

 Under the pagan emperors, the Christian soldiers were brave;

every Christian writer affirms it, and I believe it: it was a case of honourable emulation of the pagan troops.

As soon as the emperors were Christian, this emulation no longer existed, and, when the Cross had driven out the eagle, Roman valour wholly disappeared.

 But, setting aside political considerations, let us come back to what is right, and settle our principles on this important point.

The right which the social compact gives the Sovereign over the subjects does not, we have seen, exceed the limits of public expediency.

The subjects then owe the Sovereign an account of their opinions only to such an extent as they matter to the community.

Now, it matters very much to the community that each citizen should have a religion.

That will make him love his duty;

but the dogmas of that religion concern the State and its members only so far as they have reference to morality and to the duties which he who professes them is bound to do to others.

Each man may have, over and above, what opinions he pleases, without it being the Sovereign's business to take cognisance of them;

for, as the Sovereign has no authority in the other world, whatever the lot of its subjects may be in the life to come, that is not its business, provided they are good citizens in this life.

 There is therefore a purely civil profession of faith of which the Sovereign should fix the articles, not exactly as religious dogmas, but as social sentiments without which a man cannot be a good citizen or a faithful subject.

While it can compel no one to believe them, it can banish from the State whoever does not believe them—it can banish him, not for impiety, but as an anti-social being, incapable of truly loving the laws and justice, and of sacrificing, at need, his life to his duty.

If any one, after publicly recognising these dogmas, behaves as if he does not believe them, let him be punished by death: he has committed the worst of all crimes, that of lying before the law.

 The dogmas of civil religion ought to be few, simple, and exactly worded, without explanation or commentary.

The existence of a mighty, intelligent and beneficent Divinity, possessed of foresight and providence, the life to come, the happiness of the just, the punishment of the wicked, the sanctity of the social contract and the laws: these are its positive dogmas.

Its negative dogmas I confine to one, intolerance, which is a part of the cults we have rejected.

 Those who distinguish civil from theological intolerance are, to my mind, mistaken.

The two forms are inseparable.

It is impossible to live at peace with those we regard as damned;

to love them would be to hate God who punishes them: we positively must either reclaim or torment them.

Wherever theological intolerance is admitted, it must inevitably have some civil effect;

and as soon as it has such an effect, the Sovereign is no longer Sovereign even in the temporal sphere: thenceforth priests are the real masters, and kings only their ministers.

 Now that there is and can be no longer an exclusive national religion, tolerance should be given to all religions that tolerate others, so long as their dogmas contain nothing contrary to the duties of citizenship.

But whoever dares to say: Outside the Church is no salvation, ought to be driven from the State, unless the State is the Church, and the prince the pontiff.

Such a dogma is good only in a theocratic government;

in any other, it is fatal.

The reason for which Henry IV is said to have embraced the Roman religion ought to make every honest man leave it, and still more any prince who knows how to reason.