same mould is shown by the similarity of their dispositions. They had
the same ambition, the same love of liberty, and the same timidity
in war and danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised
themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and power; both opposed
kings and tyrants; both of them were banished, then returned with
honour, were forced to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and
with both of them expired the liberties of their countries.
Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years, lost his father, and
his fortune was dissipated by unworthy guardians. But his ambition
was fired in early years by hearing the pleadings of the orator
Callistratus, and by noting the honours which attended success in that
profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of declamation,
and studied rhetoric under Isæus; and as soon as he came of age he
appeared at the Bar in the prosecution of his guardians for their
embezzlements. Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much to
learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement of his audience.
His manner was at once violent and confused, his voice weak and
stammering, and his delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome
by an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the subterraneous
study which he had built, where he would remain for two or three months
together. He corrected the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his
mouth; strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming while
still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were studied before a
mirror.
Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore, and though the people
called upon him in the assembly, he would sit silent unless he had come
prepared. He wrote a great part, if not the whole, of each oration
beforehand, so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the
lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared, and
then as if from a supernatural impulse.
His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable. He was never
a time-server in word or in action, and he maintained to the end the
political standpoint with which he had begun. The glorious object of
his ambition was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip;
and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are written
upon the principle that the right and worthy course is to be chosen
for its own sake. He does not exhort his countrymen to that which is
most agreeable, or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most
honourable. If, besides this noble ambition of his and the lofty tone
of his orations, he had been gifted also with warlike courage and had
kept his hands clean from bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be
numbered with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles.
Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his school-days; he
had the capacity and inclination to learn all the arts, but was most
inclined to poetry, and the time came when he was reputed the best
poet as well as the greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law
and some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of philosophic
study, but being persuaded to appear in the courts for Roscius, who was
unjustly charged with the murder of his father, Cicero immediately made
his reputation as an orator.
His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that only late in
the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill regulated; but, like
Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous practice to modulate his
enunciation to a full, sonorous, and sweet tone, and his studies under
the leading rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence.
His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced by his conduct
in public offices, as quæstor, prætor, and then as consul. In his
attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he showed the Romans what charms
eloquence can add to truth, and that justice is invincible when
properly supported. But his immoderate love of praise interrupted his
best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many by continually
magnifying himself.
Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the single art of
speaking, became unrivalled in the power, grandeur, and accuracy of
his eloquence. Cicero's studies had a wider range; he strove to excel
not only as an orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their
difference of temperament is reflected in their styles. Demosthenes is
always grave and serious, an austere man of thought; Cicero, on the
other hand, loves his jest, and is sometimes playful to the point of
buffoonery. The Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except
with some great point in view, and then does it modestly and without
offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his intemperate vanity.
Both of these men had high political abilities; but while the former
held no public office, and lies under the suspicion of having at times
sold his talent to the highest bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a
pro-consul at a time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known
only for his humanity and his contempt of money.
MADAME DE STAËL
On Germany
Madame de Staël's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne) was finished
in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor, and partly
printed, when the whole impression was seized by the order of the
Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Staël herself escaped secretly,
and came eventually to London, where, in 1813, the work was
published. She did not long survive the fall of her tremendous
enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on July 14, 1817.
When it is considered that "On Germany" was written by other
than an inhabitant of the country, and that Madame de Staël did
not travel far beyond her own residences at Mainz, Frankfort,
Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned the most remarkable
performance of its kind in literature or biography (Mme. de
Staël, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89).
_I.--Germany, Its People and Customs_
The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still new
civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited nature. It is
a sad country, and time is needed to discover what there is to love in
it. The ruined castles on the hills, the narrow windows of the houses,
the long stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men,
all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and its inhabitants
are interesting and poetical. You feel that human souls and imagination
have embellished this land.
The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the Gothic ones which
recall the age of chivalry. Modern German architecture is not worth
mentioning, but the towns are well built, and the people try to make
their houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The gardens
in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful as in England, which
denotes love of nature. Often, in the midst of the superb gardens of
the German princes, æolian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound
and scent at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct Italian
nature.
The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they scarcely ever
break their word and are strangers to deception. Power of work and
thought is another of their national traits. They are naturally
literary and philosophical, but their pride of class affects in some
ways their _esprit_ adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas, and
the men of letters know too little about business. The Germans have
imagination rather than _esprit_.
The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers and the
workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of music. I have been to
some poor houses, blackened with tobacco smoke, and not only the
mistress, but also the master of the house, improvise on the piano,
just as the Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as
generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy. Italy has
the advantage, because instrumental music requires work, whilst the
southern sky suffices to produce beautiful voices.
Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put on finery, decorate
their hair with a few flowers, so that imagination may at least enter
into their attire.
One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast between sentiment
and custom, between talent and taste; civilisation and nature do not
seem to have properly amalgamated yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry
goes with very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more
bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of Germany, where
soldiers are met at every step, with the indoor life led by the people.
There is a dread of fatigue and change of air, as if the nation were
composed only of shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the
institutions tend towards giving the nation military habits.
Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German people a kind
of heavy and hot atmosphere which they do not like to leave. This
atmosphere is injurious to activity, which is at least as necessary
in war as in courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy,
because a generally sad existence does not engender much confidence in
fortune.
Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the fatherland and
of liberty, love of glory, and religious fanaticism. There is not
much love of the fatherland in an Empire that has been divided for
centuries, where Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not
very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society. The
Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract ideas than by the
interests of life.
The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans; they have learnt
neither by enjoyment, nor by privation, the prize that may be attached
to it. The very independence enjoyed by Germany in all respects made
the Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession,
liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was crossed in Germany
either in his rights or in his pleasures, nobody felt the need for an
order of things that would maintain this happiness.
The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable of succeeding
in anything that requires cleverness and skill; everything troubles
them, makes them nervous, and they need method in action as well as
independence in thought.
German women have a charm of their own, a touching quality of voice,
fair hair, and brilliant complexion; they are modest, but not as shy
as the English. One can see that they have often met men who were
superior to them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity of
public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility, and to arouse
interest by the imagination. The language of poetry and of the fine
arts is known to them; they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts
in France with _esprit_ and wit.
Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion, which willingly
tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility. The facility of
divorce in the Protestant provinces certainly affects the sanctity of
marriage. Husbands are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a
question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature of men
and women prevents any bitterness entering these easy ruptures.
Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation that amounts to
affectation, and the sweet expressions of which efface whatever there
may be piquant or pronounced in their mind and character. They are not
frank, and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing with
truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like phantasmagoria.
But these women are the exception. Many German women have true
sentiment and simple manners. Their careful education and natural
purity of soul renders their dominion gentle and moderate; every day
they inspire you with increased interest for all that is great and
noble, with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What is rare
among German women is real _esprit_ and quick repartee. Conversation,
as a talent, exists only in France; in other countries it only serves
for polite intercourse, for discussion and for friendship; in France it
is an art.
_II.--On Southern Germany and Austria_
Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the foundation of the
Munich Academy, strangely heavy and monotonous countries; no arts
except music, little literature; an accent that did not lend itself
well to the pronunciation of the Latin languages, no society; great
parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement; obsequious
politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy; kindness and loyalty in
all classes, but a certain smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor
dignity. In a country where society counts for nothing, and nature for
little, only the literary towns can be really interesting.
A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry. Where the climate
is neither severe nor beautiful, one lives without fearing or hoping
anything from heaven, and one only takes interest in the positive facts
of existence. Southern Germany, temperate in every respect, keeps up a
state of monotonous well-being which is as bad for business activity as
it is for the activity of the mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants
of that peaceful and fertile country is to continue the same existence.
And what can one do with that one desire? It is not even enough to
preserve that with which one is contented.
There are many excellent things in Austria, but few really superior
men, because in that country it is not much use to excel one's
neighbour; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is still more
discouraging. Ambition turns in the direction of obtaining good posts.
Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians, Hungarians,
etc., has not the unity necessary for a monarchy. Yet the great
moderation of the heads of the state has for a long time constituted a
strong link.
Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are Austria's principal
interests. In spite of the glory she gained by the perseverance and
valour of her troops, the military spirit has really never got hold of
all classes of the nation.
In a country where every movement is difficult, and where everything
inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle is an excuse for complete
idleness of action and thought. One might say that this is real
happiness; but does happiness consist of the faculties which one
develops, or of those which one chokes?
Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills. It is an old
town, very small, but surrounded by very spacious suburbs. It is said
that the city proper within the fortifications is no larger than it
was when Richard Cœur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its
gates. The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall a
little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles the rest of
Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which bring back the Middle Ages
to the imagination. First among these is the tower of St. Stephen's,
around which somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No building
can be as patriotic as a church--the only one in which all classes of
the population meet, the only one which recalls not only the public
events, but also the secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the
rulers and the citizens have brought within its precincts.
Every great city has some building, or promenade, some work of art
or nature, to which the recollections of childhood are attached. It
seems to me that the _Prater_ should have this charm for the Viennese.
No other city can match this splendid promenade through woods and
deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade at a fixed hour is an Italian
custom. Such regularity would be impossible in a country where the
pleasures are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never do
without it. Society folk in their carriages and the people on their
feet assemble here every evening. It is in the Prater that one is most
struck with the easy life and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna
has the uncontested reputation of consuming more food than any other
equally populous city. You can see whole families of citizens and
artisans starting for the Prater at five o'clock for a rustic meal as
substantial as dinner in any other country, and the money they are able
to spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule.
At night thousands of people return, without disorder, without
quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so silently do they take their
pleasures. It is not due to sadness, but to laziness and physical
well-being. Society is here with magnificent horses and carriages.
Their whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue the friends
they have just left in a drawing-room. The emperor and his brothers
take their place in the long row of carriages, and prefer to be
considered just as ordinary private people. They only use their rights
when they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar: the
charity institutions are admirably managed. And there are very few
mortal crimes in Austria. Everything in this country bears the impress
of a paternal, wise, and religious government.
_III.--On the German Language_
Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry, and the prose is
better written than spoken; it is an excellent instrument if you wish
to describe or to say everything; but you cannot playfully pass from
subject to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the German
words to the French style of conversation you would rob them altogether
of grace and dignity. The merit of the Germans is to fill their time
well; the talent of the French is to make us forget time.
Although the sense of German sentences is frequently only revealed at
the very end, the construction does not always permit to close a phrase
with the most piquant expression, which is one of the great means to
make conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans what
is known as a _bon-mot_; you have to admire the thought and not the
brilliant way in which it is expressed.
Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism by
the Germans, who take to abstract expression because it is more
conscientious and approaches more closely to the very essence of
truth. But conversation ought not to cause any trouble either to the
listener or to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany departs
from the ordinary interests of life it becomes too metaphysical;
there is nothing between the common and the sublime; and it is just
this intermediate region that is the proper sphere for the art of
conversation.
WEIMAR
Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one best realise the
advantages of a small country, if the ruler is a man of fine intellect
who may try to please his subjects without losing their obedience. The
Duchess Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman destined
for high rank. The duke's military talents are highly esteemed; his
conversation is pointed and well considered; his intellect and his
mother's have attracted the most distinguished men of letters to
Weimar. Germany had for the first time a literary capital.
Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but Wieland, Goethe,
and Schiller were still there. They can be judged from their works,
for their books bear a striking resemblance to their character and
conversation.
Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's intellect seems to
become narrow and woman's heart cold. One feels oppressed by the close
proximity of one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely
examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character is no longer
understood. And the more your spirit is independent and elevated, the
less you can breathe within the narrow confines. This disagreeable
discomfort did not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a
large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in every new art
production. Imagination, constantly stimulated by the conversation of
the poets, felt less need for those outside distractions which lighten
the burden of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has
been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It was the only
place where interest in the fine arts was, so to speak, rational and
served as fraternal link between the different ranks.
_IV.--Prussia_
To know Prussia, one has to study the character of Frederick II. A man
has created this empire which had not been favoured by nature, and
which has only become a power because a soldier has been its master.
There are two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature, and a
Frenchman by education. All that the German did in a German kingdom has
left lasting traces; all that the Frenchman tried has been fruitless.
Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not enough respect
for religion and customs. His tastes were cynical. Frederick, in
liberating his subjects of what he called prejudices, stifled in
them their patriotism, for in order to get attached to a naturally
sombre and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern opinions
and principles. Frederick's predilection for war may be excused on
political grounds. His realm, as he took it over from his father, could
not exist, and aggrandisement was necessary for its preservation. He
had two and a half million subjects when he ascended the throne, and he
left six millions on his death.
One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the division of Poland.
Silesia was acquired by force of arms. Poland by Macchiavellian
conquest, "and one could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be
faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign."
Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone in his country,
and had no consideration for German literature, which, no doubt, was
then not as remarkable as it is to-day; but a German prince should
encourage all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin resemble
Paris, and he flattered himself to have found among the French
refugees some writers of sufficient distinction to have a French
literature. Such hope was bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture
never prospers; a few individuals may fight against the natural
difficulties, but the masses will always follow their natural leaning.
Frederick did a real wrong to his country when he professed to despise
German genius.
BERLIN
Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets, beautiful
houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has only recently been
rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall the past. No Gothic monument
exists among the modern dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in
no way interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with all its
beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells nothing of the history
of the country or the character of its inhabitants; and these beautiful
new houses seem to be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of
business or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin are built of
brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia herself; its buildings and
institutions have the age of one generation, and no more, because one
man alone is their creator.
THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS
Customs and Peoples of Germany
"Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the Geography,
the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of Germany," consists
of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven describing the
characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs, and
institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the individual
peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of the Teutonic
tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical standpoint,
the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the whole, is
regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography, details
of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt gathered from
hearsay. The main object of the work was not so much to compose
a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison between the
independence of the Northern peoples and the corrupt civilisation
of contemporary Roman life. Possibly, also, Tacitus intended to
sound a note of alarm.
_I.--Germany and the German Tribes_