They will neither change or perish. No doubt they will modify themselves according to their new position. They will listen to reason. They will bow to necessity, but without renouncing their principles or sacrificing their nature. They can make no such concession. What characteristics and vitality they have must remain. To renounce this would be to die. Thus, without metamorphosis and as God and time have made them, are these powers called to dwell side by side under the same social roof. What will happen if they do not live in peace, sincere peace? Shall we again see the old wars which our fathers have seen? War between Catholicism and Protestantism? Between religious creeds and philosophy? Between the Church and the new-modelled State? Shall we see a revival of every fanaticism, lay and clerical, philosophic and religious? It is not likely. Here and there, indeed, in books, in newspapers, even in the gravest publications, hints are given of such a restoration of things: attacks by Catholics on Protestant impiety, by Protestants against popish idolatry, by devotees against reason and its lights, by philosophers against faith and the clergy. A war of words, often sincere, frequently cold, always powerless. Doubtless, the old leaven of hatred and war, deep laid in every human heart, still exists, but it will no more arouse society. Customs as well as laws will prevent this. Even the inclination will soon fail those most anxious for it. {81} The voices which still preach this strife, passionate, radical, and mortal, either of Christian communities between themselves, or of Philosophy against Christianity, are the voices of dying men, already deserted on the battle-field where they persist in staying. This is rather what will happen. Living neither in peace nor at war, forced to admit vicinity without friendship, and distrust without violence, Catholicism, Protestantism, Philosophy, and in their train society in general, will descend, grow cold, and languish. The dignity and power which spring from truly moral communications will be equally wanting in all. A dry and barren spirit will prevail in relations which are purely official and matters of routine; and we should see spreading and strengthening itself, becoming permanent and in some sort legally consecrated, that spirit of indifference at the same time disdainful yet subordinate, cold yet insecure. This is the lot of societies which are kept together by the bond of administrative regulations alone, void of moral life, that is, of faith and devotion. Was it then to arrive at this state of things, that for ages human genius displayed itself so gloriously in our country? Was it to end at last in this degradation that all the great creeds, all the moral forces, have contended with so much eagerness and glory for the empire of our society?