a general sketch of the
nature of God and the nature of man. The _Discours_ is a history of
God's dealings with humanity in the past. The _Politique_ is a code of
rights and duties drawn up in the light thrown by those dealings. Not
that Bossuet literally supposed that the last word of political wisdom
had been said by the Old Testament. His conclusions are only "drawn from
Holy Scripture," because he wished to gain the highest possible sanction
for the institutions of his country--to hallow the France of Louis XIV.
by proving its astonishing likeness to the Israel of Solomon. Then, too,
the veil of Holy Scripture enabled him to speak out more boldly than
court-etiquette would have otherwise allowed, to remind the son of Louis
XIV. that kings have duties as well as rights. Louis had often forgotten
these duties, but Louis' son would bear them in mind. The tutor's
imagination looked forward to a time when France would blossom into
Utopia, with a Christian philosopher on the throne. That is what made
him so stalwart a champion of authority in all its forms: _"le roi,
Jesus-Christ et l'Eglise, Dieu en ces trois noms"_, he says in a
characteristic letter. And the object of his books is to provide
authority with a rational basis. For Bossuet's worship of authority by
no means killed his confidence in reason; what it did was to make him
doubt the honesty of those who reasoned otherwise than himself. The
whole chain of argument seemed to him so clear and simple. Philosophy
proved that a God exists, and that He shapes and governs the course of
human affairs. History showed that this governance is, for the most
part, indirect, exercised through certain venerable corporations, as
well civil as ecclesiastical, all of which demand implicit obedience as
the immediate representatives of God. Thus all revolt, whether civil or
religious, is a direct defiance of the Almighty. Cromwell becomes a
moral monster, and the revocation of the edict of Nantes is "the
greatest achievement of the second Constantine." Not that Bossuet
glorified the _status quo_ simply as a clerical bigot. The France of his
youth had known the misery of divided counsels and civil war; the France
of his manhood, brought together under an absolute sovereign, had
suddenly shot up into a splendour only comparable with ancient Rome. Why
not, then, strain every nerve to hold innovation at bay and prolong that
splendour for all time? Bossuet's own _Discours sur l'histoire
u