you would be tempted to doubt it, the moment any human power presumed to
impose it upon you. The feeling of oppression would produce in your
conscience a strong inclination to revolt. Let us analyze this feeling.
You feel that it is words, not convictions, which are imposed by force;
you feel that declarations extorted by fear from lying lips are an
outrage to truth. You feel, in a word, that your belief is the right of
God over you, and not the right of your neighbor. Men respect God's
right over the souls of their fellow-men, in proportion as they are
intelligent in their own faith. The fanaticism which would impose words
by force is not an ardent but a blind faith. In order to bring it back
into the paths of liberty, it is enough to restore to it its sight.

The establishment of the Christian religion furnishes a great example in
support of our thesis. The Christians, when persecuted by the empire,
had never allowed themselves to reply to the violence of power by the
violence of rebellion. There came, however, and soon enough, a time when
they were sufficiently numerous to defend themselves, and had withal the
consciousness of their strength; but they had no will to conquer the
world, except by the arms of martyrdom, and heroism, and obedience. This
was not the case during a few years only, it is the history of three
centuries, an ever-memorable page of human annals, in which all ages
will be able to learn what are the true weapons of truth. Christendom,
too often forgetful of its origin, has in later times allowed the fury
of persecution to cloak itself under a pretended regard for sacred
interests; but the remedy has proceeded from the very evil. The
Christian conscience has protested, in the name of the Gospel, against
the crimes of which the Gospel was the pretext, and the passions of men
the cause. "We must bewail the misery and error of our time," already
St. Hilary was exclaiming, in the fourth century. "Men are thinking that
God has need of the protection of men.... The Church is uttering threats