DEATH OF LOUIS XIV. REACTION AGAINST THE PROTECTIVE SPIRIT, AND
PREPARATIONS FOR THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
At length Louis XIV. died. When it was positively known that the old
king had ceased to breathe, the people went almost mad with joy.[518]
The tyranny which had weighed them down was removed; and there at once
followed a reaction which, for sudden violence, has no parallel in
modern history.[519] The great majority indemnified themselves for their
forced hypocrisy by indulging in the grossest licentiousness. But among
the generation then forming, there were some high-spirited youths, who
had far higher views, and whose notions of liberty were not confined to
the license of the gaming-house and the brothel. Devoted to the great
idea of restoring to France that freedom of utterance which it had lost,
they naturally turned their eyes towards the only country where the
freedom was practised. Their determination to search for liberty in the
place where alone it could be found, gave rise to that junction of the
French and English intellects, which, looking at the immense chain of
its effects, is by far the most important fact in the history of the
eighteenth century.
[518] 'L'annonce de la mort du grand roi ne produisit chez le peuple
français qu'une explosion de joie.' _Sismondi_, _Hist. des
Français_, vol. xxvii. p. 220. 'Le jour des obsèques de Louis
XIV, on établit des guinguettes sur le chemin de Saint-Denis.
Voltaire, que la curiosité avoit mené aux funérailles du
souverain, vit dans ces guinguettes le peuple ivre de vin et de
joie de la mort de Louis XIV.' _Duvernet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, p.
29: see also _Condorcet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, p. 118; _De
Tocqueville_, _Règne de Louis XV_, vol. i. p. 18; _Duclos_,
_Mémoires_, vol. i. p. 221; _Lemontey_, _Etablissement de Louis
XIV_, pp. 311, 388.
[519] 'Kaum hatte er aber die Augen geschlossen, als alles umschlug. Der
reprimirte Geist warf sich in eine zügellose Bewegung.' _Ranke_,
_die Päpste_, vol. iii. p. 192.
During the reign of Louis XIV., the French, puffed up by national
vanity, despised the barbarism of a people who were so uncivilized as to
be always turning on their rulers, and who, within the space of forty
years, had executed one king, and deposed another.[520] They could not
believe that such a restless horde possessed anything worthy the
attention of enlightened men. Our laws, our literature, and our manners,
were perfectly unknown to them; and I doubt if at the end of the
seventeenth century there were, either in literature or in science, five
persons in France acquainted with the English language.[521] But a long
experience of the reign of Louis XIV. induced the French to reconsider
many of their opinions. It induced them to suspect that despotism may
have its disadvantages, and that a government composed of princes and
bishops is not necessarily the best for a civilized country. They began
to look, first with complacency, and then with respect, upon that
strange and outlandish people, who, though only separated from
themselves by a narrow sea, appeared to be of an altogether different
kind; and who, having punished their oppressors, had carried their
liberties and their prosperity to a height of which the world had seen
no example. These feelings, which before the Revolution broke out, were
entertained by the whole of the educated classes in France, were in the
beginning, confined to those men whose intellects placed them at the
head of their age. During the two generations which elapsed between the
death of Louis XIV. and the outbreak of the Revolution, there was hardly
a Frenchman of eminence who did not either visit England or learn
English; while many of them did both. Buffon, Brissot, Broussonnet,
Condamine, Delisle, Elie de Beaumont, Gournay, Helvétius, Jussieu,
Lalande, Lafayette, Larcher, L'Héritier, Montesquieu, Maupertuis,
Morellet, Mirabeau, Nollet, Raynal, the celebrated Roland, and his still
more celebrated wife, Rousseau, Ségur, Suard, Voltaire--all these
remarkable persons flocked to London, as also did others of inferior
ability, but of considerable influence, such as Brequiny, Bordes,
Calonne, Coyer, Cormatin, Dufay, Dumarest, Dezallier, Favier, Girod,
Grosley, Godin, D'Hancarville, Hunauld, Jars, Le Blanc, Ledru,
Lescallier, Linguet, Lesuire, Lemonnier, Levesque de Pouilly,
Montgolfier, Morand, Patu, Poissonier, Reveillon, Septchènes,
Silhouette, Siret, Soulavie, Soulès, and Valmont de Brienne.
[520] The shock which these events gave to the delicacy of the French
mind was very serious. The learned Saumaise declared that the
English are 'more savage than their own mastiffs.' _Carlyle's
Cromwell_, vol. i. p. 444. Another writer said that we were
'barbares révoltés;' and 'les barbares sujets du roi.' _Mém. de
Motteville_, vol. ii. pp. 105, 362. Patin likened us to the
Turks; and said, that having executed one king, we should
probably hang the next. _Lettres de Patin_, vol. i. p. 261, vol.
ii. p. 518, vol. iii. p. 148. Compare _Mém. de Campion_, p. 213.
After we had sent away James II., the indignation of the French
rose still higher, and even the amiable Madame Sévigné, having
occasion to mention Mary the wife of William III., could find no
better name for her than Tullia: 'la joie est universelle de la
déroute de ce prince, dont la femme est une Tullie.' _Lettres de
Sévigné_, vol. v. p. 179. Another influential French lady
mentions 'la férocité des anglais.' _Lettres inédites de
Maintenon_, vol. i. p. 303; and elsewhere (p. 109), 'je hais les
anglais comme le peuple.... Véritablement je ne les puis
souffrir.'
I will only give two more illustrations of the wide diffusion of
such feelings. In 1679, an attempt was made to bring bark into
discredit as a 'remède anglais' (_Sprengel_, _Hist. de la
Médecine_, vol. v. p. 430): and at the end of the seventeenth
century, one of the arguments in Paris against coffee was that
the English liked it. _Monteil_, _Divers Etats_, vol. vii.
p. 216.
[521] 'Au temps de Boileau, personne en France n'apprenait l'anglais.'
_[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xxxviii. p. 337, and see vol. xix.
p. 159. 'Parmi nos grands écrivains du xvii^e siècle, il n'en est
aucun, je crois, ou l'on puisse reconnaître un souvenir, une
impression de l'esprit anglais.' _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e
Siècle_, vol. iii. p. 324. Compare _Barante_, _XVIII^e Siècle_,
p. 47, _Grimm_, and _Correspond._ vol. v. p. 135, vol. xvii.
p. 2.
The French, during the reign of Louis XIV., principally knew us
from the accounts given by two of their countrymen, Monconys and
Sorbière; both of whom published their travels in England, but
neither of whom were acquainted with the English language. For
proof of this, see _Monconys_, _Voyages_, vol. iii. pp. 34, 69,
70, 96; and _Sorbière_, _Voyage_, pp. 45, 70.
When Prior arrived at the court of Louis XIV. as plenipotentiary,
no one in Paris was aware that he had written poetry (_Lettres
sur les Anglais_, in _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xxvi. p. 130);
and when Addison, being in Paris, presented Boileau with a copy
of the _Musæ Anglicanæ_, the Frenchman learnt for the first time
that we had any good poets: 'first conceived an opinion of the
English genius for poetry.' Tickell's statement, in _Aikin's Life
of Addison_, vol. i. p. 65. Finally, it is said that Milton's
_Paradise Lost_ was not even by report in France until after the
death of Louis XIV., though the poem was published in 1667, and
the king died in 1715; 'Nous n'avions jamais entendu parler de ce
poëme en France, avant que l'auteur de la Henriade nous en eût
donné une idée dans le neuvième chapitre de son Essai sur la
poésie épique. _Dict. Philos._ article _Epopée_, in _[OE]uvres de
Voltaire_, vol. xxxix. p. 175; see also vol. lxvi. p. 249.
Nearly all of these carefully studied our language, and most of them
seized the spirit of our literature. Voltaire, in particular, devoted
himself with his usual ardour to the new pursuit, and acquired in
England a knowledge of those doctrines, the promulgation of which,
afterwards won for him so great a reputation.[522] He was the first who
popularized in France the philosophy of Newton, where it rapidly
superseded that of Descartes.[523] He recommended to his countrymen the
writings of Locke;[524] which soon gained immense popularity, and which
supplied materials to Condillac for his system of metaphysics,[525] and
to Rousseau for his theory of education.[526] Besides this, Voltaire was
the first Frenchman who studied Shakespeare; to whose works he was
greatly indebted, though he afterwards wished to lessen what he
considered the exorbitant respect paid to them in France.[527] Indeed,
so intimate was his knowledge of the English language,[528] that we can
trace his obligations to Butler,[529] one of the most difficult of our
poets, and to Tillotson,[530] one of the dullest of our theologians. He
was acquainted with the speculations of Berkeley,[531] the most subtle
metaphysician who has ever written in English; and he had read the
works, not only of Shaftesbury,[532] but even of Chubb,[533]
Garth,[534] Mandeville,[535] and Woolston.[536] Montesquieu imbibed in
our country many of his principles; he studied our language; and he
always expressed admiration for England, not only in his writings, but
also in his private conversation.[537] Buffon learnt English, and his
first appearance as an author was as the translator of Newton and of
Hales.[538] Diderot, following in the same course, was an enthusiastic
admirer of the novels of Richardson;[539] he took the idea of several of
his plays from the English dramatists, particularly from Lillo; he
borrowed many of his arguments from Shaftesbury and Collins, and his
earliest publication was a translation of Stanyan's _History of
Greece_.[540] Helvétius, who visited London, was never weary of praising
the people; many of the views in his great work on the Mind are drawn
from Mandeville; and he constantly refers to the authority of Locke,
whose principles hardly any Frenchman would at an earlier period have
dared to recommend.[541] The works of Bacon, previously little known,
were now translated into French; and his classification of the human
faculties was made the basis of that celebrated Encyclopædia, which is
justly regarded as one of the greatest productions of the eighteenth
century.[542] The _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, by Adam Smith, was
during thirty-four years translated three different times, by three
different French authors.[543] And such was the general eagerness, that
directly the _Wealth of Nations_, by the same great writer, appeared,
Morellet, who was then high in reputation, began to turn it into French;
and was only prevented from printing his translation by the
circumstance, that before it could be completed, another version of it
was published in a French periodical.[544] Coyer, who is still
remembered for his _Life of Sobieski_, visited England; and after
returning to his own country, showed the direction of his studies by
rendering into French the Commentaries of Blackstone.[545] Le Blanc
travelled in England, wrote a work expressly upon the English, and
translated into French the Political Discourses of Hume.[546] Holbach
was certainly one of the most active leaders of the liberal party in
Paris; but a large part of his very numerous writings consists solely in
translations of English authors.[547] Indeed, it may be broadly stated,
that while, at the end of the seventeenth century, it would have been
difficult to find, even among the most educated Frenchmen, a single
person acquainted with English, it would, in the eighteenth century,
have been nearly as difficult to find in the same class one who was
ignorant of it. Men of all tastes, and of the most opposite pursuits,
were on this point united as by a common bond. Poets, geometricians,
historians, naturalists, all seemed to agree as to the necessity of
studying a literature on which no one before had wasted a thought. In
the course of general reading, I have met with proofs that the English
language was known, not only to those eminent Frenchmen whom I have
already mentioned, but also to mathematicians, as D'Alembert,[548]
Darquier,[549] Du Val le Roy,[550] Jurain,[551] Lachapelle,[552]
Lalande,[553] Le Cozic,[554] Montucla,[555] Pezenas,[556] Prony,[557]
Romme,[558] and Roger Martin;[559] to anatomists, physiologists, and
writers on medicine, as Barthèz,[560] Bichat,[561] Bordeu,[562] Barbeu
Dubourg,[563] Bosquillon,[564] Bourru,[565] Begue de Presle,[566]
Cabanis,[567] Demours,[568] Duplanil,[569] Fouquet,[570] Goulin,[571]
Lavirotte,[572] Lassus,[573] Petit Radel,[574] Pinel,[575] Roux,[576]
Sauvages,[577] and Sue;[578] to naturalists, as Alyon,[579]
Brémond,[580] Brisson,[581] Broussonnet,[582] Dalibard,[583] Haüy,[584]
Latapie,[585] Richard,[586] Rigaud,[587] and Romé de Lisle;[588] to
historians, philologists, and antiquaries, as Barthélemy,[589] Butel
Dumont,[590] De Brosses,[591] Foucher,[592] Freret,[593] Larcher,[594]
Le Coc de Villeray,[595] Millot,[596] Targe,[597] Velly,[598]
Volney,[599] and Wailly;[600] to poets and dramatists, as Chéron,[601]
Colardeau,[602] Delille,[603] Desforges,[604] Ducis,[605] Florian,[606]
Laborde,[607] Lefèvre de Beauvray,[608] Mercier,[609] Patu,[610]
Pompignan,[611] Quétant,[612] Roucher,[613] and Saint Ange;[614] to
miscellaneous writers, as Bassinet,[615] Baudeau,[616] Beaulaton,[617]
Benoist,[618] Bergier,[619] Blavet,[620] Bouchaud,[621]
Bougainville,[622] Bruté,[623] Castera,[624] Chantreau,[625]
Charpentier,[626] Chastellux,[627] Contant d'Orville,[628] De
Bissy,[629] Demeunier,[630] Desfontaines,[631] Devienne,[632]
Dubocage,[633] Dupré,[634] Duresnel,[635] Eidous,[636] Estienne,[637]
Favier,[638] Flavigny,[639] Fontanelle,[640] Fontenay,[641]
Framery,[642] Fresnais,[643] Fréville,[644] Frossard,[645] Galtier,[646]
Garsault,[647] Goddard,[648] Goudar,[649] Guénée,[650] Guillemard,[651]
Guyard,[652] Jault,[653] Imbert,[654] Joncourt,[655] Kéralio,[656]
Laboreau,[657] Lacombe,[658] Lafargue,[659] La Montagne,[660]
Lanjuinais,[661] Lasalle,[662] Lasteyrie,[663] Le Breton,[664]
Lécuy,[665] Léonard des Malpeines,[666] Letourneur,[667] Linguet,[668]
Lottin,[669] Luneau,[670] Maillet Duclairon,[671] Mandrillon,[672]
Marsy,[673] Moet,[674] Monod,[675] Mosneron,[676] Nagot,[677]
Peyron,[678] Prévost,[679] Puisieux,[680] Rivoire,[681] Robinet,[682]
Roger,[683] Roubaud,[684] Salaville,[685] Sauseuil,[686] Secondat,[687]
Septchènes,[688] Simon,[689] Soulès,[690] Suard,[691] Tannevot,[692]
Thurot,[693] Toussaint,[694] Tressan,[695] Trochereau,[696] Turpin,[697]
Ussieux,[698] Vaugeois,[699] Verlac,[700] and Virloys.[701] Indeed, Le
Blanc, who wrote shortly before the middle of the eighteenth century,
says: 'We have placed English in the rank of the learned languages; our
women study it, and have abandoned Italian in order to study the
language of this philosophic people; nor is there to be found among us
any one who does not desire to learn it.'[702]
[522] 'Le vrai roi du xviii^e siècle, c'est Voltaire; mais Voltaire à
son tour est un écolier de l'Angleterre. Avant que Voltaire eût
connu l'Angleterre, soit par ses voyages, soit part ses amitiés,
il n'était pas Voltaire, et le xviii^e siècle se cherchait
encore.' _Cousin_, _Hist. de la Philos._ I^{re} série, vol. iii.
pp. 38, 39. Compare _Damiron_, _Hist. de la Philos. en France_,
Paris, 1828, vol. i. p. 34.
[523] 'J'avais été le premier qui eût osé développer à ma nation les
découvertes de Newton, en langage intelligible.' _[OE]uvres de
Voltaire_, vol. i. p. 315; see also vol. xix. p. 87, vol. xxvi.
p. 71; _Whewell's Hist. of Induc. Sciences_, vol. ii. p. 206;
_Weld's Hist. of the Royal Society_, vol. i. p. 441. After this,
the Cartesian physics lost ground every day; and in _Grimm's
Correspondence_, vol. ii. p. 148, there is a letter, dated Paris,
1757, which says, 'Il n'y a guère plus ici de partisans de
Descartes que M. de Mairan.' Compare _Observations et Pensées_,
in _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. iii. p. 298.
[524] Which he was never weary of praising; so that, as M. Cousin says
(_Hist. de la Philos._ II. série, vol. ii. pp. 311, 312), 'Locke
est le vrai maître de Voltaire.' Locke was one of the authors he
put into the hands of Madame du Châtelet. _Condorcet_, _Vie de
Voltaire_, p. 296.
[525] _Morell's Hist. of Philos._ 1846, vol. i. p. 134; _Hamilton's
Discuss._ p. 3.
[526] 'Rousseau tira des ouvrages de Locke une grande partie de ses
idées sur la politique et l'éducation; Condillac toute sa
philosophie.' _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. i. p.
83. See also, on the obligations of Rousseau to Locke, _Grimm_,
_Correspond._ vol. v. p. 97; _Musset Pathay_, _Vie de Rousseau_,
vol. i. p. 38, vol. ii. p. 394; _Mém. de Morellet_, vol. i. p.
113; _Romilly's Memoirs_, vol. i. pp. 211, 212.
[527] In 1768, Voltaire (_[OE]uvres_, vol. lxvi. p. 249) writes to
Horace Walpole, 'Je suie le premier qui ait fait connaître
Shakespeare aux français.' See also his _Lettres inédites_, vol.
ii. p. 500; _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. iii. p.
325; and _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. xii. pp. 124, 125, 133.
[528] There are extant many English letters written by Voltaire, which,
though of course containing several errors, also contain abundant
evidence of the spirit with which he seized our idiomatic
expressions. In addition to his _Lettres inédites_, published at
Paris in the present year (1856), see _Chatham Correspond._ vol.
ii. pp. 131-133; and _Phillimore's Mém. of Lyttelton_, vol. i.
pp. 323-325, vol. ii. pp. 555, 556, 558.
[529] _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. i. p. 332; _Voltaire_, _Lettres
inédites_, vol. ii. p. 258; and the account of Hudibras, with
translations from it, in _[OE]uvres_, vol. xxvi. pp. 132-137;
also a conversation between Voltaire and Townley, in _Nichols's
Illustrations of the Eighteenth Century_, vol. iii. p. 722.
[530] Compare _Mackintosh's Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 341, with _[OE]uvres de
Voltaire_, vol. xxxix. p. 259, vol. xlvii. p. 85.
[531] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xxxviii. pp. 216-218, vol. xlvi.
p. 282, vol. xlvii. p. 439, vol. lvii. p. 178.
[532] _Ibid._ vol. xxxvii. p. 353, vol. lvii. p. 66; _Correspond.
inédite de Dudeffand_, vol. ii. p. 230.
[533] _[OE]uvres_, vol. xxxiv. p. 294, vol. lvii. p. 121.
[534] _Ibid._ vol. xxxvii. pp. 407, 441.
[535] _Ibid._ vol. xxxvi. p. 46.
[536] _Ibid._ vol. xxxiv. p. 288, vol. xli. pp. 212-217; _Biog. Univ._
vol. li. pp. 199, 200.
[537] _Lerminier_, _Philos. du Droit_, vol. i. p. 221; _Klimrath_,
_Hist. du Droit_, vol. ii. p. 502; _Harris's Life of Hardwicke_,
vol. ii. p. 398, vol. iii. pp. 432-434; _Mém. de Diderot_, vol.
ii. pp. 193, 194; _Lacretelle_, _XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. ii. p. 24.
[538] _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. ii. p. 182; _Biog.
Univ._ vol. vi. p. 235; _Le Blanc_, _Lettres_, vol. i. p. 93,
vol. ii. pp. 159, 160.
[539] 'Admirateur passionné du romancier anglais.' _Biog. Univ._
vol. xxxvii. p. 581. Compare _Diderot_, _Corresp._ vol. i. p.
352, vol. ii. pp. 44, 52, 53; _Mercier sur Rousseau_, vol. i.
p. 44.
[540] _Villemain_, _Lit._ vol. ii. p. 115; _Schlosser's Eighteenth
Century_, vol. i. pp. 34, 42; _Tennemann_, _Gesch. der Philos._
vol. xi. p. 314; _Biog. Univ._ vol. xi. p. 314; _Grimm_,
_Correspond._ vol. xv. p. 81. Stanyan's _History of Greece_ was
once famous, and even so late as 1804, I find Dr. Parr
recommending it. Parr's _Works_, vol. viii. p. 422. Diderot told
Sir Samuel Romilly that he had collected materials for a history
of the trial of Charles I. _Life of Romilly_, vol. i. p. 46.
[541] _Diderot_, _Mém._ vol. ii. p. 286; _Cousin_, _Hist. de la Philos._
II^e série, vol. ii. p. 331; _Helvétius de l'Esprit_, vol. i. pp.
31, 38, 46, 65, 114, 169, 193, 266, 268, vol. ii. pp. 144, 163,
165, 195, 212; _Letters addressed to Hume_, Edinb. 1849, pp. 9,
10.
[542] This is the arrangement of our knowledge under the heads of
Memory, Reason, and Imagination, which D'Alembert took from
Bacon. Compare _Whewell's Philos. of the Sciences_, vol. ii. p.
306; _Cuvier_, _Hist. des Sciences_, part ii. p. 276; _Georgel_,
_Mém._ vol. ii. p. 241; _Bordas Demoulin_, _Cartésianisme_,
vol. i. p. 18.
[543] _Quérard_, _France Lit._ ix. 193.
[544] _Mém de. Morellet_, i. 236, 237.
[545] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, lxv. 161, 190, 212; _Biog. Univ._ x. 158,
159.
[546] _Burton's Life of Hume_, vol. i. pp. 365, 366, 406.
[547] See the list, in _Biog. Univ._ vol. xx. pp. 463-466; and compare
_Mém. de Diderot_, vol. iii. p. 49, from which it seems that
Holbach was indebted to Toland, though Diderot speaks rather
doubtingly. In _Almon's Mem. of Wilkes_ 1805, vol. iv. pp. 176,
177, there is an English letter, tolerably well written, from
Holbach to Wilkes.
[548] _Musset Pathay_, _Vie de Rousseau_, ii. 10, 175; _[OE]uvres de
Voltaire_, liv. 207.
[549] _Biog. Univ._ x. 556.
[550] _Ibid._ xii. 418.
[551] _Quérard_, _France Lit._ iv. 34, 272.
[552] _Ibid._ iv. 361.
[553] _Biog. Univ._ xxiii. 226.
[554] _Montucla_, _Hist. des Mathém._ ii. 170.
[555] _Montucla_, ii. 120, iv. 662, 665, 670.
[556] _Biog. Univ._ iii. 253, xxxiii. 564.
[557] _Quérard_, _France Lit._ vii. 353.
[558] _Biog. Univ._ xxxviii. 530.
[559] _Ibid._ xxxviii. 411.
[560] _Ibid._ iii. 450.
[561] _Bichat sur la Vie_, 244.
[562] _Quérard_, i. 416.
[563] _Biog. Univ._ iii. 345.
[564] _Quérard_, i. 260, 425, ii. 354.
[565] _Ibid._ i. 476.
[566] _Biog. Univ._ iv. 55, 56.
[567] _Notice sur Cabanis_, p. viii. in his _Physique et Moral._
[568] _Biog. Univ._ xi. 65, 66.
[569] _Ibid._ xii. 276.
[570] _Ibid._ xv. 359.
[571] _Ibid._ xviii. 187.
[572] _Quérard_, iv. 641, vi. 9, 398.
[573] _Cuvier_, _Eloges_, i. 354.
[574] _Quérard_, vii. 95.
[575] _Cuvier_, _Eloges_, iii. 382.
[576] _Biog. Univ._ xxxix. 174.
[577] _Le Blanc_, _Lettres_, i. 93.
[578] _Quérard_, ix. 286.
[579] _Robin et Verdeil_, _Chim. Anat._ ii. 416.
[580] _Biog. Univ._ v. 530, 531.
[581] _Cuvier_, _Eloges_, i. 196.
[582] _Biog. Univ._ vi. 47.
[583] _Quérard_, ii. 372.
[584] _Haüy_, _Minéralogie_, ii. 247, 267, 295, 327, 529, 609, iii. 75,
293, 307, 447, 575, iv. 45, 280, 292, 362.
[585] _Quérard_, iv. 598.
[586] _Ibid._ viii. 22.
[587] _Swainson_, _Disc. on Nat. Hist._ 52; _Cuvier_, _Règne Animal_,
iii. 415.
[588] _De Lisle_, _Cristallographie_, 1772, xviii. xx. xxiii. xxv.
xxvii. 78, 206, 254.
[589] _Albemarle's Rockingham_, ii. 156; _Campbell's Chancellors_,
v. 365.
[590] _Biog. Univ._ vi. 386.
[591] _Letters to Hume_, Edin. 1849, 276, 278.
[592] _Biog. Univ._ xv. 332.
[593] _Brewster's Life of Newton_, ii. 302.
[594] _Palissot_, _Mém._ ii. 56.
[595] _Biog. Univ._ ix. 549.
[596] _Ibid._ xxix. 51, 53.
[597] _Ibid._ xliv. 534.
[598] _Ibid._ xlviii. 93.
[599] _Volney_, _Syrie et Egypte_, ii. 100, 157; _Quérard_, x. 271, 273.
[600] _Biog. Univ._ i. 42.
[601] _Ibid._ viii. 340, 341.
[602] _Mém. de Genlis_, i. 276.
[603] _Palissot_, _Mém._ i. 243.
[604] _Biog. Univ._ xi. 281, xi. 172, 173.
[605] _Quérard_, ii. 626, 627.
[606] _Ibid._ iii. 141.
[607] _Quérard_, iv. 342.
[608] _Ibid._ v. 83.
[609] _Ibid._ vi. 62.
[610] _Garrick Correspond._ 4to, 1832, ii. 385, 395, 416.
[611] _Biog. Univ._ xxxv. 314.
[612] _Quérard_, vii. 399.
[613] _Biog. Univ._ xxxix. 93.
[614] _Ibid._ xxxix. 530.
[615] _Quérard_, i. 209.
[616] _Biog. Univ._ iii. 533.
[617] _Ibid._ iii. 631.
[618] _Cuvier_, _Règne Animal_, iii. 334.
[619] _Quérard_, i. 284, vii. 287.
[620] _Mém. de Morellet_, i. 237.
[621] _Biog. Univ._ v. 264.
[622] _Dutens_, _Mém._ iii. 32.
[623] _Biog. Univ._ vi. 165.
[624] _Murray's Life of Bruce_, 121; _Biog. Univ._ vi. 79.
[625] _Ibid._ viii. 46.
[626] _Ibid._ viii. 246.
[627] _Ibid._ viii. 266.
[628] _Ibid._ ix. 497.
[629] _Ibid._ xlv. 394.
[630] _Lettres de Dudeffand à Walpole_, iii. 184.
[631] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire._ lvi. 527.
[632] _Biog. Univ._ xi. 264.
[633] _Quérard_, ii. 598.
[634] _Biog. Univ._ xii. 313, 314.
[635] _Nichols's Lit. Anec._ ii. 154; _Palissot_, _Mém._ ii. 311.
[636] _Biog. Univ._ iv. 547, xii. 595.
[637] _Ibid._ xiii. 399.
[638] _Quérard_, iii. 79.
[639] _Biog. Univ._ xv. 29.
[640] _Ibid._ xv. 203.
[641] _Ibid._ 218.
[642] _Quérard_, i. 525.
[643] _Biog. Univ._ xvi. 48.
[644] _Ibid._ li. 508.
[645] _Smith's Tour on the Continent in 1786_, i. 143.
[646] _Biog. Univ._ xvi. 388.
[647] _Ibid._ xvi. 502.
[648] _Sinclair's Correspond._ i. 157.
[649] _Quérard_, iii. 418.
[650] _Biog. Univ._ xix. 13.
[651] _Quérard_, i. 10, iii. 536.
[652] _Ibid._ iii. 469.
[653] _Biog. Univ._ xxi. 419.
[654] _Ibid._ xxi. 200.
[655] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, xxxviii. 244.
[656] _Palissot_, _Mém._ i. 425.
[657] _Biog. Univ._ xxiii. 34.
[658] _Ibid._ xxiii. 56.
[659] _Ibid._ xxiii. 111.
[660] _Quérard_, iv. 503.
[661] _Biog. Univ._ xxiii. 373.
[662] _Quérard_, iv. 579.
[663] _Sinclair's Correspond._ ii. 139.
[664] _Mem. and Correspond. of Sir. J. E. Smith_, i. 163.
[665] _Biog. des Hommes Vivants_, iv. 164.
[666] _Quérard_, v. 177.
[667] _Nichols's Lit. Anec._ iv. 583; _Longchamp et Wagnière_, _Mém._
i. 395.
[668] _Quérard_, v. 316.
[669] _Biog. Univ._ xxv. 87.
[670] _Ibid._ xxv. 432.
[671] _Ibid._ xxvi. 244.
[672] _Ibid._ xxvi. 468.
[673] _Ibid._ xxvii. 269.
[674] _Ibid._ xxix. 208.
[675] _Lettres de Dudeffand à Walpole_, i. 222.
[676] _Quérard_, vi. 330.
[677] _Biog. Univ._ xxx. 539.
[678] _Ibid._ xxxiii. 553.
[679] _Lettres de Dudeffand à Walpole_, i. 22, iii. 307, iv. 207.
[680] _Biog. Univ._ xxxvi. 305, 306.
[681] _Ibid._ xxxviii. 174.
[682] _Peignot_, _Dict. des Livres_, ii. 233.
[683] _Quérard_, viii. 111.
[684] _Biog. Univ._ xxxix. 84.
[685] _Biog. des Hommes Vivants_, v. 294.
[686] _Quérard_, viii. 474.
[687] _Biog. Univ._ xli. 426.
[688] _Ibid._ xlii. 45, 46.
[689] _Ibid._ xlii. 389.
[690] _Ibid._ xliii. 181.
[691] _Garrick Correspond._ ii. 604; _Mém. de Genlis_, vi. 205.
[692] _Biog. Univ._ xliv. 512.
[693] _Life of Roscoe_, _by his Son_, i. 200.
[694] _Biog. Univ._ xlvi. 398, 399.
[695] _Ibid._ xlvi. 497.
[696] _Quérard_, iv. 45, ix. 558.
[697] _Biog. Univ._ xlvii. 98.
[698] _Ibid._ xlvii. 232.
[699] _Mém. de Brissot_, i. 78.
[700] _Biog. Univ._ xlviii. 217, 218.
[701] _Ibid._ xlix. 223.
[702] 'Nous avons mis depuis peu leur langue au rang des langues
savantes; les femmes même l'apprennent, et ont renoncé à
l'italien pour étudier celle de ce peuple philosophe. Il n'est
point dans la province d'Armande et de Belise qui ne veuille
savoir l'anglois.' _Le Blanc_, _Lettres_, vol. ii. p. 465.
Compare _Grimm_, _Corresp._ vol. xiv. p. 484; and _Nichols's Lit.
Anec._ vol. iii. pp. 460, 461.
Such was the eagerness with which the French imbibed the literature of a
people whom but a few years before they had heartily despised. The truth
is, that in this new state of things they had no alternative. For where
but in England was a literature to be found that could satisfy those
bold and inquisitive thinkers who arose in France after the death of
Louis XIV.? In their own country there had no doubt been great displays
of eloquence, of fine dramas, and of poetry, which, though never
reaching the highest point of excellence, is of finished and admirable
beauty. But it is an unquestionable fact, and one melancholy to
contemplate, that during the sixty years which succeeded the death of
Descartes, France had not possessed a single man who dared to think for
himself. Metaphysicians, moralists, historians, all had become tainted
by the servility of that bad age. During two generations, no Frenchman
had been allowed to discuss with freedom any question, either of
politics or of religion. The consequence was, that the largest
intellects, excluded from their legitimate field, lost their energy; the
national spirit died away; the very materials and nutriment of thought
seemed to be wanting. No wonder then, if the great Frenchmen of the
eighteenth century sought that aliment abroad which they were unable to
find at home. No wonder if they turned from their own land, and gazed
with admiration at the only people who, pushing their inquiries into the
highest departments, had shown the same fearlessness in politics as in
religion; a people who, having punished their kings and controlled their
clergy, were storing the treasures of their experience in that noble
literature which never can perish, and of which it may be said in sober
truth, that it has stimulated the intellect of the most distant races,
and that, planted in America and in India, it has already fertilized the
two extremities of the world.
There are, in fact, few things in history so instructive as the extent
to which France was influenced by this new pursuit. Even those who took
part in actually consummating the Revolution, were moved by the
prevailing spirit. The English language was familiar to Carra,[703]
Dumouriez,[704] Lafayette,[705] and Lanthénas.[706] Camille Desmoulins
had cultivated his mind from the same source.[707] Marat travelled in
Scotland as well as in England, and was so profoundly versed in our
language that he wrote two works in it; one of which, called _The Chains
of Slavery_, was afterwards translated into French.[708] Mirabeau is
declared by a high authority to have owed part of his power to a careful
study of the English constitution;[709] he translated not only Watson's
_History of Philip II._, but also some parts of Milton;[710] and it is
said that when he was in the National Assembly, he delivered, as his
own, passages from the speeches of Burke.[711] Mounier was well
acquainted with our language, and with our political institutions both
in theory and in practice;[712] and in a work, which exercised
considerable influence, he proposed for his own country the
establishment of two chambers, to form that balance of power of which
England supplied the example.[713] The same idea, derived from the same
source, was advocated by Le Brun, who was a friend of Mounier's, and
who, like him, had paid attention to the literature and government of
the English people.[714] Brissot knew English; he had studied in London
the working of the English institutions, and he himself mentions that,
in his treatise on criminal law, he was mainly guided by the course of
English legislation.[715] Condorcet also proposed as a model our system
of criminal jurisprudence,[716] which, bad as it was, certainly
surpassed that possessed by France. Madame Roland, whose position, as
well as ability, made her one of the leaders of the democratic party,
was an ardent student of the language and literature of the English
people.[717] She too, moved by the universal curiosity, came to our
country; and, as if to show that persons of every shade and of every
rank were actuated by the same spirit, the Duke of Orleans likewise
visited England; nor did his visit fail to produce its natural results.
'It was,' says a celebrated writer, 'in the society of London that he
acquired a taste for liberty; and it was on his return from there that
he brought into France a love of popular agitation, a contempt for his
own rank, and a familiarity with those beneath him.'[718]
[703] _Williams's Letters from France_, vol. iii. p. 68, 2nd edit. 1796;
_Biog. Univ._ vol. vii. p. 192.
[704] _Adolphus's Biog. Mem._ 1799, vol. i. p. 352.
[705] _Lady Morgan's France_, vol. ii. p. 304; _Mém. de Lafayette_,
vol. i. pp. 41, 49, 70, vol. ii. pp. 26, 74, 83, 89.
[706] _Quérard_, _France Littéraire_, vol. iv. p. 540.
[707] The last authors he read, shortly before his execution, were Young
and Hervey. _Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. viii. p. 45.
In 1769 Madame Riccoboni writes from Paris, that Young's _Night
Thoughts_ had become very popular there; and she justly adds,
'c'est une preuve sans réplique du changement de l'esprit
français.' _Garrick Correspondence_, vol. ii. p. 566, 4to. 1832.
[708] _Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. iv. p. 119; _Mém. de
Brissot_, vol. i. pp. 336, 337, vol. ii. p. 3.
[709] 'Une des supériorités secondaires, une des supériorités d'étude
qui appartenaient à Mirabeau, c'était la profonde connaissance,
la vive intelligence de la constitution anglaise, de ses ressorts
publics et de ses ressorts cachés.' _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e
Siècle_, vol. iv. p. 153.
[710] Particularly the democratic passages, 'un corps de doctrine de
tous ses écrits républicains.' _Dumont_, _Souvenirs sur
Mirabeau_, p. 119. As to his translation of Watson, see _Alison's
Europe_, vol. i. p. 452. He also intended to translate Sinclair's
History of the Revenue. _Correspond. of Sir J. Sinclair_,
vol. ii. p. 119.
[711] _Prior's Life of Burke_, p. 546, 3rd edit. 1839.
[712] 'Il étudiait leur langue, la théorie et plus encore la pratique de
leurs institutions.' _Biog. Univ._ vol. xxx. p. 310.
[713] _Continuation de Sismondi_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. xxx.
p. 434. Montlosier (_Monarchie Française_, vol. ii. p. 340) says
that this idea was borrowed from England; but he does not mention
who suggested it.
[714] _Du Mesnil_, _Mém. sur Le Brun_, pp. 10, 14, 29, 82, 180, 182.
[715] _Mém. de Brissot_, vol. i. pp. 63, 64, vol. ii. pp. 25, 40, 188,
206, 260, 313.
[716] Dupont de Nemours (_Mém. sur Turgot_, p. 117) says of criminal
jurisprudence, 'M. de Condorcet proposait en modèle celle des
Anglais.'
[717] _Mém. de Roland_, vol. i. pp. 27, 55, 89, 136, vol. ii. pp. 99,
135, 253.
[718] 'Le duc d'Orléans puisa ainsi le goût de la liberté dans la vie de
Londres. Il en rapporta en France les habitudes d'insolence
contre la cour, l'appétit des agitations populaires, le mépris
pour son propre rang, la familiarité avec la foule,' &c.
_Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. ii. p. 102.
This language, strong as it is, will not appear exaggerated to any one
who has carefully studied the history of the eighteenth century. It is
no doubt certain, that the French Revolution was essentially a reaction
against that protective and interfering spirit which reached its zenith
under Louis XIV., but which, centuries before his reign, had exercised a
most injurious influence over the national prosperity. While, however,
this must be fully conceded, it is equally certain that the impetus to
which the reaction owed its strength, proceeded from England; and that
it was English literature which taught the lessons of political liberty,
first to France, and through France to the rest of Europe.[719] On this
account, and not at all from mere literary curiosity, I have traced with
some minuteness that union between the French and English minds, which,
though often noticed, has never been examined with the care its
importance deserves. The circumstances which reinforced this vast
movement will be related towards the end of the volume; at present I
will confine myself to its first great consequence, namely, the
establishment of a complete schism between the literary men of France,
and the classes who exclusively governed the country.
[719] M. Lerminier (_Philos. du Droit_, vol. i. p. 19) says of England,
'cette île célèbre donne à l'Europe l'enseignement de la liberté
politique; elle en fut l'école au dix-huitième siècle pour tout
ce que l'Europe eut de penseurs.' See also _Soulavie_, _Règne de
Louis XVI_, vol. iii. p. 161; _Mém. de Marmontel_, vol. iv. pp.
38, 39; _Stäudlin_, _Gesch. der theolog. Wissenschaften_,
vol. ii. p. 291.
Those eminent Frenchmen who now turned their attention to England, found
in its literature, in the structure of its society, and in its
government, many peculiarities of which their own country furnished no
example. They heard political and religious questions of the greatest
moment debated with a boldness unknown in any other part of Europe. They
heard dissenters and churchmen, whigs and tories, handling the most
dangerous topics, and treating them with unlimited freedom. They heard
public disputes respecting matters which no one in France dared to
discuss; mysteries of state and mysteries of creed unfolded and rudely
exposed to the popular gaze. And, what to Frenchmen of that age must
have been equally amazing, they not only found a public press possessing
some degree of freedom, but they found that within the very walls of
parliament the administration of the crown was assailed with complete
impunity, the character of its chosen servants constantly aspersed, and,
strange to say, even the management of its revenues effectually
controlled.[720]
[720] Hume, who was acquainted with several eminent Frenchmen who
visited England, says (_Philosophical Works_, vol. iii. p. 8),
'nothing is more apt to surprise a foreigner than the extreme
liberty which we enjoy in this country, of communicating whatever
we please to the public, and of openly censuring every measure
entered into by the king or his ministers.'
The successors of the age of Louis XIV., seeing these things, and
seeing, moreover, that the civilization of the country increased as the
authority of the upper classes and of the crown diminished, were unable
to restrain their wonder at so novel and exciting a spectacle. 'The
English nation,' says Voltaire, 'is the only one on the earth, which, by
resisting its kings, has succeeded in lessening their power.[721] How I
love the boldness of the English! how I love men who say what they
think!'[722] The English, says Le Blanc, are willing to have a king,
provided they are not obliged to obey him.[723] The immediate object of
their government, says Montesquieu, is political liberty;[724] they
possess more freedom than any republic;[725] and their system is in fact
a republic disguised as a monarchy.[726] Grosley, struck with amazement,
exclaims, 'Property is in England a thing sacred, which the laws protect
from all encroachment, not only from engineers, inspectors, and other
people of that stamp, but even from the king himself.'[727] Mably, in the
most celebrated of all his works, says, 'The Hanoverians are only able
to reign in England because the people are free, and believe they have a
right to dispose of the crown. But if the kings were to claim the same
powers as the Stuarts, if they were to believe that the crown belonged
to them by divine right, they would be condemning themselves and
confessing that they were occupying a place which is not their
own.'[728] In England, says Helvétius, the people are respected; every
citizen can take some part in the management of affairs; and authors are
allowed to enlighten the public respecting its own interests.[729] And
Brissot, who had made these matters his especial study, cries out,
'Admirable constitution! which can only be disparaged either by men who
know it not, or else by those whose tongues are bridled by
slavery.'[730]
[721] 'La nation anglaise est la seule de la terre qui soit parvenue à
régler le pouvoir des rois en leur résistant.' _Lettre VIII sur
les Anglais_, in _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xxvi. p. 37.
[722] 'Que j'aime la hardiesse anglaise! que j'aime les gens qui disent
ce qu'ils pensent!' _Letter from Voltaire_, in _Correspond. de
Dudeffand_, vol. ii. p. 263. For other instances of his
admiration of England, see _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xl. pp.
105-109; vol. li. pp. 137, 390; vol. liv. pp. 298, 392; vol. lvi.
pp. 162, 163, 195, 196, 270; vol. lvii. p. 500; vol. lviii. pp.
128, 267; vol. lix. pp. 265, 361; vol. lx. p. 501; vol. lxi. pp.
43, 73, 129, 140, 474, 475; vol. lxii. pp. 343, 379, 392; vol.
lxiii. pp. 128, 146, 190, 196, 226, 237, 415; vol. lxiv. pp. 36,
96, 269; vol. lxvi. pp. 93, 159; vol. lxvii. pp. 353, 484.
[723] 'Ils veulent un roi, aux conditions, pour ainsi dire, de ne lui
point obéir.' _Le Blanc_, _Lettres d'un François_, vol. i.
p. 210.
[724] 'Il y a aussi une nation dans le monde qui a pour objet direct de
sa constitution la liberté politique.' _Esprit des Lois_, livre
xi. chap. v. in _[OE]uvres de Montesquieu_, p. 264. Conversely De
Staël (_Consid. sur la Rév._ vol. iii. p. 261), 'la liberté
politique est le moyen suprême.'
[725] 'L'Angleterre est à présent le plus libre pays qui soit au monde,
je n'en excepte aucune république.' _Notes sur l'Angleterre_, in
_[OE]uvres de Montesquieu_, p. 632.
[726] 'Une nation où la république se cache sous la forme de la
monarchie.' _Esprit des Lois_, livre v. chap. xix. in _[OE]uvres
de Montesquieu_, page 225; also quoted in _Bancroft's American
Revolution_, vol. ii. p. 36.
[727] _Grosley's Tour to London_, vol. i. pp. 16, 17.
[728] _Mably_, _Observ. sur l'Hist. de France_, vol. ii. p. 185.
[729] _Helvétius de l'Esprit._ vol. i. pp. 102, 199: 'un pays où le
peuple est respecté comme en Angleterre; ... un pays où chaque
citoyen a part au maniement des affaires générales, où tout homme
d'esprit peut éclairer le public sur ses véritables intérêts.'
[730] _Mém. de Brissot_, vol. ii. p. 25.
Such were the opinions of some of the most celebrated Frenchmen of that
time; and it would be easy to fill a volume with similar extracts. But,
what I now rather wish to do, is, to point out the first great
consequence of this new and sudden admiration for a country which, in
the preceding age, had been held in profound contempt. The events which
followed are, indeed, of an importance impossible to exaggerate; since
they brought about that rupture between the intellectual and governing
classes, of which the revolution itself was but a temporary episode.
The great Frenchmen of the eighteenth century being stimulated by the
example of England into a love of progress, naturally came into
collision with the governing classes, among whom the old stationary
spirit still prevailed. This opposition was a wholesome reaction against
that disgraceful servility for which, in the reign of Louis XIV.,
literary men had been remarkable; and if the contest which ensued had
been conducted with anything approaching to moderation, the ultimate
result would have been highly beneficial; since it would have secured
that divergence between the speculative and practical classes which, as
we have already seen, is essential to maintain the balance of
civilization, and to prevent either side from acquiring a dangerous
predominance. But, unfortunately, the nobles and clergy had been so long
accustomed to power, that they could not brook the slightest
contradiction from those great writers, whom they ignorantly despised as
their inferiors. Hence it was, that when the most illustrious Frenchmen
of the eighteenth century attempted to infuse into the literature of
their country a spirit of inquiry similar to that which existed in
England, the ruling classes became roused into a hatred and jealousy
which broke all bounds, and gave rise to that crusade against knowledge
which forms the second principal precursor of the French Revolution.
The extent of that cruel persecution to which literature was now
exposed, can only be fully appreciated by those who have minutely
studied the history of France in the eighteenth century. For it was not
a stray case of oppression, which occurred here and there; but it was a
prolonged and systematic attempt to stifle all inquiry, and punish all
inquirers. If a list were drawn up of all the literary men who wrote
during the seventy years succeeding the death of Louis XIV., it would be
found, that at least nine out of every ten had suffered from the
government some grievous injury; and that a majority of them had been
actually thrown into prison. Indeed, in saying thus much, I am
understating the real facts of the case; for I question if one literary
man out of fifty escaped with entire impunity. Certainly, my own
knowledge of those times, though carefully collected, is not so complete
as I could have wished; but, among those authors who were punished, I
find the name of nearly every Frenchman whose writings have survived the
age in which they were produced. Among those who suffered either
confiscation, or imprisonment, or exile, or fines, or the suppression of
their works, or the ignominy of being forced to recant what they had
written, I find, besides a host of inferior writers, the names of
Beaumarchais, Berruyer, Bougeant, Buffon, D'Alembert, Diderot, Duclos,
Freret, Helvétius, La Harpe, Linguet, Mably, Marmontel, Montesquieu,
Mercier, Morellet, Raynal, Rousseau, Suard, Thomas, and Voltaire.
The mere recital of this list is pregnant with instruction. To suppose
that all these eminent men deserved the treatment they received, would,
even in the absence of direct evidence, be a manifest absurdity; since
it would involve the supposition, that a schism having taken place
between two classes, the weaker class was altogether wrong, and the
stronger altogether right. Fortunately, however, there is no necessity
for resorting to any merely speculative argument respecting the probable
merits of the two parties. The accusations brought against these great
men are before the world; the penalties inflicted are equally well
known; and, by putting these together, we may form some idea of the
state of society, in which such things could be openly practised.
Voltaire, almost immediately after the death of Louis XIV., was falsely
charged with having composed a libel on that prince; and, for this
imaginary offence, he, without the pretence of a trial, and without even
the shadow of a proof, was thrown into the Bastille, where he was
confined more than twelve months.[731] Shortly after he was released,
there was put upon him a still more grievous insult; the occurrence,
and, above all, the impunity of which, supply striking evidence as to
the state of society in which such things were permitted. Voltaire, at
the table of the Duke de Sully, was deliberately insulted by the
Chevalier de Rohan Chabot, one of those impudent and dissolute nobles
who then abounded in Paris. The duke, though the outrage was committed
in his own house, in his own presence, and upon his own guest, would not
interfere; but seemed to consider that a poor poet was honoured by being
in any way noticed by a man of rank. But, as Voltaire, in the heat of
the moment, let fall one of those stinging retorts which were the terror
of his enemies, the chevalier determined to visit him with further
punishment. The course he adopted was characteristic of the man, and of
the class to which he belonged. He caused Voltaire to be seized in the
streets of Paris, and in his presence ignominiously beaten, he himself
regulating the number of blows of which the chastisement was to consist.
Voltaire, smarting under the insult, demanded that satisfaction which it
was customary to give. This, however, did not enter into the plan of his
noble assailer, who not only refused to meet him in the field, but
actually obtained an order, by which he was confined in the Bastille for
six months, and at the end of that time was directed to quit the
country.[732]
[731] _Condorcet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, pp. 118, 119; _Duvernet_, _Vie de
Voltaire_, pp. 30, 32; _Longchamp et Wagnière_, _Mém. sur
Voltaire_, vol. i. p. 22.
[732] _Duvernet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, pp. 46-48; _Condorcet_, _Vie de
Voltaire_, pp. 125, 126. Compare vol. lvi. p. 162; _Lepan_, _Vie
de Voltaire_, 1837, pp. 70, 71; and _Biog. Univ._ vol. xlix. p.
468. Duvernet, who, writing from materials supplied by Voltaire,
had the best means of information, gives a specimen of the fine
feeling of a French duke in the eighteenth century. He says,
that, directly after Rohan had inflicted this public
chastisement, 'Voltaire rentre dans l'hôtel, demande au duc de
Sully de regarder cet outrage fait à l'un de ses convives, comme
fait à lui-même: il le sollicite de se joindre à lui pour en
poursuivre la vengeance, et de venir chez un commissaire en
certifier la déposition. _Le duc de Sully se refuse à tout._'
Thus it was that Voltaire, having first been imprisoned for a libel
which he never wrote, and having then been publicly beaten because he
retorted an insult wantonly put upon him, was now sentenced to another
imprisonment, through the influence of the very man by whom he had been
attacked. The exile which followed the imprisonment seems to have been
soon remitted; as, shortly after these events, we find Voltaire again in
France, preparing for publication his first historical work, a life of
Charles XII. In this, there are none of those attacks on Christianity
which gave offence in his subsequent writings; nor does it contain the
least reflection upon the arbitrary government under which he had
suffered. The French authorities at first granted that permission,
without which no book could then be published; but as soon as it was
actually printed, the license was withdrawn, and the history forbidden
to be circulated.[733] The next attempt of Voltaire was one of much
greater value: it was therefore repulsed still more sharply. During his
residence in England, his inquisitive mind had been deeply interested by
a state of things so different from any he had hitherto seen; and he now
published an account of that remarkable people, from whose literature he
had learned many important truths. His work, which he called
_Philosophic Letters_, was received with general applause; but,
unfortunately for himself, he adopted in it the arguments of Locke
against innate ideas. The rulers of France, though not likely to know
much about innate ideas, had a suspicion that the doctrine of Locke was
in some way dangerous; and, as they were told that it was a novelty,
they felt themselves bound to prevent its promulgation. Their remedy was
very simple. They ordered that Voltaire should be again arrested and
that his work should be burned by the common hangman.[734]
[733] 'L'Histoire de Charles XII, dont on avait arrêté une première
édition après l'avoir autorisée.' _Biog. Univ._ vol. xlix. p.
470. Comp. _Nichols's Lit. Anec._ vol. i. p. 388.
[734] _Duvernet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, pp. 63-65; _Condorcet_, _Vie de
Voltaire_, pp. 138-140; _Lepan_,_ Vie de Voltaire_, pp. 93, 381.
These repeated injuries might well have moved a more patient spirit than
that of Voltaire.[735] Certainly, those who reproach this illustrious
man, as if he were the instigator of unprovoked attacks upon the
existing state of things, must know very little of the age in which it
was his misfortune to live. Even on what has been always considered the
neutral ground of physical science, there was displayed the same
despotic and persecuting spirit. Voltaire, among other schemes for
benefiting France, wished to make known to his countrymen the wonderful
discoveries of Newton, of which they were completely ignorant. With this
view, he drew up an account of the labours of that extraordinary
thinker; but here again the authorities interposed, and forbade the work
to be printed.[736] Indeed, the rulers of France, as if sensible that
their only security was the ignorance of the people, obstinately set
their face against every description of knowledge. Several eminent
authors had undertaken to execute, on a magnificent scale, an
Encyclopædia, which should contain a summary of all the branches of
science and of art. This, undoubtedly the most splendid enterprise ever
started by a body of literary men, was at first discouraged by the
government, and afterwards entirely prohibited.[737] On other occasions,
the same tendency was shown in matters so trifling that nothing but the
gravity of their ultimate results prevents them from being ridiculous.
In 1770, Imbert translated Clarke's _Letters on Spain_: one of the best
works then existing on that country. This book, however, was suppressed
as soon as it appeared; and the only reason assigned for such a stretch
of power is, that it contained some remarks respecting the passion of
Charles III. for hunting, which were considered disrespectful to the
French crown, because Louis XV. was himself a great hunter.[738] Several
years before this, La Bletterie, who was favourably known in France by
his works, was elected a member of the French Academy. But he, it seems,
was a Jansenist, and had, moreover, ventured to assert that the Emperor
Julian, notwithstanding his apostacy, was not entirely devoid of good
qualities. Such offences could not be overlooked in so pure an age; and
the king obliged the Academy to exclude La Bletterie from their
society.[739] That the punishment extended no further, was an instance
of remarkable leniency; for Fréret, an eminent critic and scholar,[740]
was confined in the Bastille, because he stated in one of his memoirs,
that the earliest Frankish chiefs had received their titles from the
Romans.[741] The same penalty was inflicted four different times upon
Lenglet du Fresnoy.[742] In the case of this amiable and accomplished
man, there seems to have been hardly the shadow of a pretext for the
cruelty with which he was treated; though, on one occasion, the alleged
offence was, that he had published a supplement to the History of De
Thou.[743]
[735] The indignation of Voltaire appears in many of his letters; and he
often announced to his friends his intention of quitting for ever
a country where he was liable to such treatment. See _[OE]uvres
de Voltaire_, vol. liv. pp. 58, 335, 336, vol. lv. p. 229, vol.
lvi. pp. 162, 163, 358, 447, 464, 465, vol. lvii. pp. 144, 145,
155, 156, vol. lviii. pp. 36, 222, 223, 516, 517, 519, 520, 525,
526, 563, vol. lix. pp. 107, 116, 188, 208.
[736] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. i. pp. 147, 315, vol. lvii. pp. 211,
215, 219, 247, 295; _Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e Siècle_,
vol. i. p. 14; _Brougham's Men of Letters_, vol. i. pp. 53, 60.
[737] _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. i. pp. 90-95, vol. ii. p. 399; _Biog.
Univ._ vol. xi. p. 316; _Brougham's Men of Letters_, vol. ii.
p. 439.
[738] _Boucher de la Richarderie_, _Bibliothèque des Voyages_, vol. iii.
pp. 390-393, Paris, 1808: 'La distribution en France de la
traduction de ce voyage fut arrêtée pendant quelque temps par des
ordres supérieurs du gouvernement.... Il y a tout lieu de croire
que les ministres de France crurent, ou feignirent de croire, que
le passage en question pouvoit donner lieu à des applications sur
le goût effréné de Louis XV pour la chasse, et inspirèrent
aisément cette prévention à un prince très-sensible, comme on
sait, aux censures les plus indirectes de sa passion pour ce
genre d'amusement.' See also the account of Imbert, the
translator, in _Biog. Univ._ vol. xxi. p. 200.
[739] _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. vi. pp. 161, 162; the crime being,
'qu'un janséniste avait osé imprimer que Julien, apostat
exécrable aux yeux d'un bon chrétien, n'était pourtant pas un
homme sans quelques bonnes qualités à en juger mondainement.'
[740] M. Bunsen (_Egypt_, vol. i. p. 14) refers to Fréret's 'acute
treatise on the Babylonian year;' and Turgot, in his
_Etymologie_, says (_[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. iii. p. 83),
'l'illustre Fréret, un des savans qui ont su le mieux appliquer
la philosophie à l'érudition.'
[741] This was at the very outset of his career: 'En 1715, l'homme qui
devait illustrer l'érudition française au xviii^e siècle, Fréret,
était mis à la Bastille pour avoir avancé, dans un mémoire sur
l'origine des Français, que les Francs ne formaient pas une
nation à part, et que leurs premiers chefs avaient reçu de
l'empire romain le titre de _patrices_.' _Villemain_, _Lit. au
XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. ii. p. 30: see also _Nichols's Lit. Anec._
vol. ii. p. 510.
[742] He was imprisoned in the Bastille, for the first time, in 1725;
then in 1743, in 1750, and finally in 1751. _Biographie
Universelle_, vol. xxiv. p. 85.
[743] In 1743, Voltaire writes: 'On vient de mettre à la Bastille l'abbé
Lenglet, pour avoir publié des mémoires déjà très-connus, qui
servent de supplément à l'histoire de notre célèbre De Thou.
L'infatigable et malheureux Lenglet rendait un signalé service
aux bons citoyens, et aux amateurs des recherches historiques. Il
méritait des récompenses; on l'emprisonne cruellement à l'âge de
soixante-huit ans.' _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. i. pp. 400,
401, vol. lviii. pp. 207, 208.
Indeed, we have only to open the biographies and correspondence of that
time, to find instances crowding upon us from all quarters. Rousseau was
threatened with imprisonment, was driven from France, and his works were
publicly burned.[744] The celebrated treatise of Helvétius on the mind
was suppressed by an order from the royal council: it was burned by the
common hangman, and the author was compelled to write two letters,
retracting his opinions.[745] Some of the geological views of Buffon
having offended the clergy, that illustrious naturalist was obliged to
publish a formal recantation of doctrines which are now known to be
perfectly accurate.[746] The learned Observations on the History of
France, by Mably, were suppressed as soon as they appeared;[747] for
what reason it would be hard to say, since M. Guizot, certainly no
friend either to anarchy or to irreligion, has thought it worth while to
republish them, and thus stamp them with the authority of his own great
name. The History of the Indies, by Raynal, was condemned to the flames,
and the author ordered to be arrested.[748] Lanjuinais, in his
well-known work on Joseph II., advocated not only religious toleration,
but even the abolition of slavery; his book, therefore, was declared to
be 'seditious;' it was pronounced 'destructive of all subordination,'
and was sentenced to be burned.[749] The Analysis of Bayle, by Marsy,
was suppressed, and the author was imprisoned.[750] The History of the
Jesuits, by Linguet, was delivered to the flames; eight years later his
_Journal_ was suppressed; and, three years after that, as he still
persisted in writing, his Political Annals were suppressed, and he
himself was thrown into the Bastille.[751] Delisle de Sales was
sentenced to perpetual exile, and confiscation of all his property, on
account of his work on the Philosophy of Nature.[752] The treatise by
Mey, on French Law, was suppressed;[753] that by Boncerf, on Feudal Law,
was burned.[754] The Memoirs of Beaumarchais were likewise burned;[755]
the Eloge on Fénelon by La Harpe was merely suppressed.[756] Duvernet
having written a History of the Sorbonne, which was still unpublished,
was seized and thrown into the Bastille, while the manuscript was yet in
his own possession.[757] The celebrated work of De Lolme on the English
constitution was suppressed by edict directly it appeared.[758] The fate
of being suppressed, or prohibited, also awaited the Letters of
Gervaise, in 1724;[759] the Dissertations of Courayer, in 1727;[760] the
Letters of Montgon, in 1732;[761] the History of Tamerlane, by Margat,
also in 1732;[762] the Essay on Taste, by Cartaud, in 1736;[763] the
Life of Domat, by Prévost de la Jannès, in 1742;[764] the History of
Louis XI., by Duclos, in 1745;[765] the Letters of Bargeton, in
1750;[766] the Memoirs on Troyes, by Grosley, in the same year;[767] the
History of Clement XI., by Reboulet, in 1752;[768] the School of Man, by
Génard, also in 1752;[769] the Therapeutics of Garlon, in 1756;[770] the
celebrated thesis of Louis, on Generation, in 1754;[771] the Treatise on
Presidial Jurisdiction, by Jousse, in 1755;[772] the Ericie of
Fontanelle, in 1768;[773] the Thoughts of Jamin, in 1769;[774] the
History of Siam, by Turpin, and the Eloge of Marcus Aurelius, by Thomas,
both in 1770;[775] the works on Finance by Darigrand in 1764; and by Le
Trosne, in 1779;[776] the Essay on Military Tactics, by Guibert, in
1772; the Letters of Boucquet, in the same year;[777] and the Memoirs of
Terrai, by Coquereau, in 1776.[778] Such wanton destruction of property
was, however, mercy itself, compared to the treatment experienced by
other literary men in France. Desforges, for example, having written
against the arrest of the Pretender to the English throne, was, solely
on that account, buried in a dungeon eight feet square, and confined
there for three years.[779] This happened in 1749; and in 1770, Audra,
professor at the college of Toulouse, and a man of some reputation,
published the first volume of his Abridgment of General History. Beyond
this, the work never proceeded; it was at once condemned by the
archbishop of the diocese, and the author was deprived of his office.
Audra, held up to public opprobrium, the whole of his labours rendered
useless, and the prospects of his life suddenly blighted, was unable to
survive the shock. He was struck with apoplexy, and within twenty-four
hours was lying a corpse in his own house.[780]
[744] _Musset Pathay_, _Vie de Rousseau_, vol. i. pp. 68, 99, 296, 377,
vol. ii. pp. 111, 385, 390; _Mercier sur Rousseau_, vol. i. p.
14, vol. ii. pp. 179, 314.
[745] _Grimm_, _Corresp._ vol. ii. p. 349; _Walpole's Letters_, 1840,
vol. iii. p. 418.
[746] _Lyell's Principles of Geology_, pp. 39, 40; _Mém. of Mallet du
Pan_, vol. i. p. 125.
[747] _Soulavie_, _Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. ii. p. 214; _Williams's
Letters from France_, vol. ii. p. 86, 3rd edit. 1796.
[748] _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 253; _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. ii.
p. 34 note; _Lettres de Dudeffand à Walpole_, vol. ii. p. 365. On
Raynal's flight, compare a letter from Marseilles, written in
1786, and printed in _Mem. and Correspond. of Sir J. E. Smith_,
vol. i. p. 194.
[749] See the proceedings of the avocat-général, in _Peignot_, _Livres
condamnés_, vol. i. pp. 230, 231; and in _Soulavie_, _Règne de
Louis XVI_, vol. iii. pp. 93-97.
[750] _Quérard_, _France Lit._ vol. v. p. 565.
[751] _Peignot_, _Livres condamnés_, vol. i. pp. 241, 242.
[752] _Biog. Univ._ vol. xxiv. p. 561; _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_,
vol. lxix. pp. 374, 375; _Lettres inédites de Voltaire_, vol. ii.
p. 528; _Duvernet_, _Vie de Voltaire_, pp. 202, 203. According to
some of these authorities, parliament afterwards revoked this
sentence; but there is no doubt that the sentence was passed, and
De Sales imprisoned, if not banished.
[753] _Peignot_, _Livres condamnés_, vol. i. pp. 314, 316.
[754] _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. lxix. p. 204;_ Lettres de Dudeffand
à Walpole_, vol. iii. p. 260.
[755] 'Quatre mémoires ... condamnés à être lacérés et brûlés par la
main du bourreau.' _Peignot_, vol. i. p. 24.
[756] _Biog. Univ._ vol. xxiii. p. 187.
[757] _Duvernet_, _Hist. de la Sorbonne_, vol. i. p. vi.
[758] 'Supprimée par arrêt du conseil' in 1771, which was the year of
its publication. Compare _Cassagnac's Révolution_, vol. i. p. 33;
_Biog. Univ._ vol. xxiv. p. 634.
[759] _Quérard_, _France Lit._ vol. iii. p. 337.
[760] _Biog. Univ._ vol. x. p. 97.
[761] _Peignot_, vol. i. p. 328.
[762] _ibid._ vol. i. p. 289.
[763] _Biog. Univ._ vol. vii. p. 227.
[764] _Lettres d'Aguesseau_, vol. ii. pp. 320, 321.
[765] _Cassagnac_, _Causes de la Rév._ vol. i. p. 32.
[766] _Biog. Univ._ vol. iii. p. 375.
[767] _Quérard_, vol. iii. p. 489.
[768] _Ibid._ vol. vii. pp. 483, 484.
[769] _Ibid._ vol. iii. p. 302.
[770] _Ibid._ vol. iii. p. 261.
[771] On the importance of this remarkable thesis, and on its
prohibition, see _Saint-Hilaire_, _Anomalies de l'Organisation_,
vol. i. p. 355.
[772] _Quérard_, vol. iv. p. 255.
[773] _Biog. Univ._ vol. xv. p. 203.
[774] _Ibid._ vol. xxi. p. 391.
[775] _Ibid._ vol. xlv. p. 462, vol. xlvii. p. 98.
[776] _Peignot_, vol. i. pp. 90, 91, vol. ii. p. 164.
[777] _Ibid._ vol. i. p. 170, vol. ii. p. 57.
[778] _Ibid._ vol. ii. p. 214.
[779] 'Il resta trois ans dans la cage; c'est un caveau creusé dans le
roc, de huit pieds en carré, où le prisonnier ne reçoit le jour
que par les crevasses des marches de l'église.' _Biog. Univ._
vol. xi. p. 171.
[780] _Peignot_, _Livres condamnés_, vol. i. pp. 14, 15.
It will probably be allowed that I have collected sufficient evidence to
substantiate my assertion respecting the persecutions directed against
every description of literature; but the carelessness with which the
antecedents of the French Revolution have been studied, has given rise
to such erroneous opinions on this subject, that I am anxious to add a
few more instances, so as to put beyond the possibility of doubt the
nature of the provocations habitually received by the most eminent
Frenchmen of the eighteenth century.
Among the many celebrated authors who, though, inferior to Voltaire,
Montesquieu, Buffon, and Rousseau, were second only to them, three of
the most remarkable were Diderot, Marmontel, and Morellet. The first two
are known to every reader; while Morellet, though comparatively
forgotten, had in his own time considerable influence, and had,
moreover, the distinguished merit of being the first who popularized in
France those great truths which had been recently discovered in
political economy by Adam Smith, and in jurisprudence by Beccaria.
A certain M. Cury wrote a satire upon the Duke d'Aumont, which he showed
to his friend Marmontel, who, struck by its power, repeated it to a
small circle of his acquaintance. The duke, hearing of this, was full of
indignation, and insisted upon the name of the author being given up.
This, of course, was impossible without a gross breach of confidence;
but Marmontel, to do everything in his power, wrote to the duke,
stating, what was really the fact, that the lines in question had not
been printed, that there was no intention of making them public, and
that they had only been communicated to a few of his own particular
friends. It might have been supposed that this would have satisfied even
a French noble; but Marmontel, still doubting the result, sought an
audience of the minister, in the hope of procuring the protection of the
crown. All, however, was in vain. It will hardly be believed, that
Marmontel, who was then at the height of his reputation, was seized in
the middle of Paris, and because he refused to betray his friend, was
thrown into the Bastille. Nay, so implacable were his persecutors, that
after his liberation from prison they, in the hope of reducing him to
beggary, deprived him of the right of publishing the _Mercure_, upon
which nearly the whole of his income depended.[781]
[781] _Mémoires de Marmontel_, vol. ii. pp. 143-176; and see vol. iii.
pp. 30-46, 95, for the treatment he afterwards received from the
Sorbonne, because he advocated religious toleration. See also
_[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. liv. p. 258; and _Letters of
Eminent Persons addressed to Hume_, pp. 207, 212, 213.
To the Abbé Morellet a somewhat similar circumstance occurred. A
miserable scribbler, named Palissot, had written a comedy ridiculing
some of the ablest Frenchmen then living. To this Morellet replied by a
pleasant little satire, in which he made a very harmless allusion to the
Princess de Robeck, one of Palissot's patrons. She, amazed at such
presumption, complained to the minister, who immediately ordered the
abbé to be confined in the Bastille, where he remained for some months,
although he had not only been guilty of no scandal, but had not even
mentioned the name of the princess.[782]
[782] _Mém. de Morellet_, vol. i. pp. 86-89; _Mélanges par Morellet_,
vol. ii. pp. 3-12; _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. liv. pp. 106,
111, 114, 122, 183.
The treatment of Diderot was still more severe. This remarkable man owed
his influence chiefly to his immense correspondence, and to the
brilliancy of a conversation for which, even in Paris, he was
unrivalled, and which he used to display with considerable effect at
those celebrated dinners where, during a quarter of a century, Holbach
assembled the most illustrious thinkers in France.[783] Besides this, he
is the author of several works of interest, most of which are well
known to the students of French literature.[784] His independent spirit,
and the reputation he obtained, earned for him a share in the general
persecution. The first work he wrote was ordered to be publicly burned
by the common hangman.[785] This, indeed, was the fate of nearly all the
best literary productions of that time; and Diderot might esteem himself
fortunate in merely losing his property, provided he saved himself from
imprisonment. But, a few years later, he wrote another work, in which he
said that people who are born blind have some ideas different from those
who are possessed of their eyesight. This assertion is by no means
improbable,[786] and it contains nothing by which any one need be
startled. The men, however, who then governed France discovered in it
some hidden danger. Whether they suspected that the mention of blindness
was an allusion to themselves, or whether they were merely instigated by
the perversity of their temper, is uncertain; at all events, the
unfortunate Diderot, for having hazarded this opinion, was arrested, and
without even the form of a trial, was confined in the dungeon of
Vincennes.[787] The natural results followed. The works of Diderot rose
in popularity;[788] and he, burning with hatred against his persecutors,
redoubled his efforts to overthrow those institutions, under shelter of
which such monstrous tyranny could be safely practised.
[783] Marmontel (_Mém._ vol. ii. p. 313) says, 'qui n'a connu Diderot
que dans ses écrits ne l'a point connu:' meaning that his works
were inferior to his talk. His conversational powers are noticed
by Ségur, who disliked him, and by Georgel, who hated him.
_Ségur_, _Souvenirs_, vol. iii. p. 34; _Georgel_, _Mém._ vol. ii.
p. 246. Compare _Forster's Life of Goldsmith_, vol. i. p. 69;
_Musset Pathay_, _Vie de Rousseau_, vol. i. p. 95, vol. ii. p.
227; _Mémoires d'Epinay_, vol. ii. pp. 73, 74, 88; _Grimm_,
_Corresp._ vol. xv. pp. 79-90; _Morellet_, _Mém._ vol. i. p. 28;
_Villemain_, _Lit. au XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. i. p. 82.
As to Holbach's dinners, on which Madame de Genlis wrote a
well-known libel, see _Schlosser's Eighteenth Century_, vol. i.
p. 166; _Biog. Univ._ vol. xx. p. 462; _Jesse's Selwyn_, vol. ii.
p. 9; _Walpole's Letters to Mann_, vol. iv. p. 283; _Gibbon's
Miscellaneous Works_, p. 73.
[784] It is also stated by the editor of his correspondence, that he
wrote a great deal for authors, which they published under their
name. _Mém. et Corresp. de Diderot_, vol. iii. p. 102.
[785] This was the _Pensées Philosophiques_, in 1746, his first original
work; the previous ones being translations from English. _Biog.
Univ._ xi. p. 314. Duvernet (_Vie de Voltaire_, p. 240) says,
that he was imprisoned for writing it, but this I believe is a
mistake; at least I do not remember to have met with the
statement elsewhere, and Duvernet is frequently careless.
[786] Dugald Stewart, who has collected some important evidence on this
subject, has confirmed several of the views put forward by
Diderot. _Philos. of the Mind_, vol. iii. pp. 401 seq.; comp. pp.
57, 407, 435. Since then still greater attention has been paid to
the education of the blind, and it has been remarked that 'it is
an exceedingly difficult task to teach them to think accurately.'
_M. Alister's Essay on the Blind_, in _Jour. of Stat. Soc._ vol.
i. p. 378: see also Dr. Fowler, in _Report of Brit. Assoc._ for
1847; _Transac. of Sec._ pp. 92, 93, and for 1848, p. 88. These
passages unconsciously testify to the sagacity of Diderot; and
they also testify to the stupid ignorance of a government, which
sought to put an end to such inquiries by punishing their author.
[787] _Mém. et Corresp. de Diderot_, vol. i. pp. 26-29; _Musset Pathay_,
_Vie de Rousseu_, vol. i. p. 47, vol. ii. p. 276; _Letter to
d'Argental_ in _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. lviii. p. 454;
_Lacretelle_, _Dix-huitième Siècle_, vol. ii. p. 54.
[788] A happy arrangement, by which curiosity baffles despotism. In
1767, an acute observer wrote, 'Il n'y a plus de livres qu'on
imprime plusieurs fois, que les livres condamnés. Il faut
aujourd'hui qu'un libraire prie les magistrate de brûler son
livre pour le faire vendre.' _Grimm_, _Corresp._ vol. v. p. 498.
To the same effect, _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. pp. 15, 16; _Mém. de
Georgel_, vol. ii. p. 256.
It seems hardly necessary to say more respecting the incredible folly
with which the rulers of France, by turning every able man into a
personal enemy,[789] at length arrayed against the government all the
intellect of the country, and made the Revolution a matter not of choice
but of necessity. I will, however, as a fitting sequel to the preceding
facts, give one instance of the way in which, to gratify the caprice of
the higher classes, even the most private affections of domestic life,
could be publicly outraged. In the middle of the eighteenth century,
there was an actress on the French stage of the name of Chantilly. She,
though beloved by Maurice de Saxe, preferred a more honourable
attachment, and married Favart, the well-known writer of songs and of
comic operas. Maurice, amazed at her boldness, applied for aid to the
French crown. That he should have made such an application is
sufficiently strange; but the result of it is hardly to be paralleled
except in some Eastern despotism. The government of France, on hearing
the circumstance, had the inconceivable baseness to issue an order
directing Favart to abandon his wife, and intrust her to the charge of
Maurice, to whose embraces she was compelled to submit.[790]
[789] 'Quel est aujourd'hui parmi nous l'homme de lettres de quelque
mérite qui n'ait éprouvé plus ou moins les fureurs de la calomnie
et de la persécution?' etc. _Grimm_, _Corresp._ vol. v. p. 451.
This was written in 1767, and during more than forty years
previously we find similar expressions; the earliest I have met
with being in a letter to Thiriot, in 1723, in which Voltaire
says _([OE]uvres_, vol. lvi. p. 94), 'la sévérité devient plus
grande de jour en jour dans l'inquisition de la librairie.' For
other instances, see his letter to De Formont, pp. 423-425, also
vol. lvii. pp. 144, 351, vol. lviii. p. 222; his _Lettres
inédites_, vol. i. p. 547; _Mém. de Diderot_, vol. ii. p. 215;
_Letters of Eminent Persons to Hume_, pp. 14, 15.
[790] Part of this is related, rather inaccurately, in _Schlosser's
Eighteenth Century_, vol. iii. p. 483. The fullest account is in
_Grimm_, _Corresp. Lit._ vol. viii. pp. 231-233: 'Le grand
Maurice, irrité d'une résistance qu'il n'avait jamais éprouvée
nulle part, eut la faiblesse de demander une lettre de cachet
pour enlever à un mari sa femme, et pour la contraindre d'être sa
concubine; et, chose remarquable, cette lettre de cachet fut
accordée et exécutée. Les deux époux plièrent sous le joug de la
nécessité, et la petite Chantilly fut à la fois femme de Favart
et maîtresse de Maurice de Saxe.'
These are among the insufferable provocations, by which the blood of men
is made to boil in their veins. Who can wonder that the greatest and
noblest minds in France were filled with loathing at the government by
whom such things were done? If we, notwithstanding the distance of time
and country, are moved to indignation by the mere mention of them, what
must have been felt by those before whose eyes they actually occurred?
And when, to the horror they naturally inspired, there was added that
apprehension of being the next victim which every one might personally
feel; when, moreover, we remember that the authors of these persecutions
had none of the abilities by which even vice itself is sometimes
ennobled;--when we thus contrast the poverty of their understandings
with the greatness of their crimes, we, instead of being astonished that
there was a revolution, by which all the machinery of the state was
swept away, should rather be amazed at that unexampled patience by which
alone the revolution was so long deferred.
To me, indeed, it has always appeared, that the delay of the Revolution
is one of the most striking proofs history affords of the force of
established habits, and of the tenacity with which the human mind clings
to old associations. For, if ever there existed a government inherently
and radically bad, it was the government of France in the eighteenth
century. If ever there existed a state of society likely, by its crying
and accumulated evils, to madden men to desperation, France was in that
state. The people, despised and enslaved, were sunk in abject poverty,
and were curbed by laws of stringent cruelty, enforced with merciless
barbarism. A supreme and irresponsible control was exercised over the
whole country by the clergy, the nobles, and the crown. The intellect of
France was placed under the ban of a ruthless proscription, its
literature prohibited and burned, its authors plundered and imprisoned.
Nor was there the least symptom that these evils were likely to be
remedied. The upper classes, whose arrogance was increased by the long
tenure of their power, only thought of present enjoyment: they took no
heed of the future: they saw not that day of reckoning, the bitterness
of which they were soon to experience. The people remained in slavery
until the Revolution actually occurred; while as to the literature,
nearly every year witnessed some new effort to deprive it of that share
of liberty which it still retained. Having, in 1764, issued a decree
forbidding any work to be published in which questions of government
were discussed;[791] having, in 1767, made it a capital offence to
write a book likely to excite the public mind;[792] and having,
moreover, denounced the same penalty of death against any one who
attacked religion,[793] as also against any one who spoke of matters of
finance;[794]--having taken these steps, the rulers of France, very
shortly before their final fall, contemplated another measure still more
comprehensive. It is, indeed, a singular fact, that only nine years
before the Revolution, and when no power on earth could have saved the
institutions of the country, the government was so ignorant of the real
state of affairs, and so confident that it could quell the spirit which
its own despotism had raised, that a proposal was made by an officer of
the crown to do away with all the publishers, and not allow any books to
be printed except those which were issued from a press paid, appointed,
and controlled by the executive magistrate.[795] This monstrous
proposition, if carried into effect, would of course have invested the
king with all the influence which literature can command; it would have
been as fatal to the national intellect as the other measures were to
national liberty; and it would have consummated the ruin of France,
either by reducing its greatest men to complete silence, or else by
degrading them into mere advocates of those opinions which the
government might wish to propagate.
[791] 'L'Averdy was no sooner named controller of finance than he
published a decree, in 1764 (_arrêt du conseil_),--which,
according to the state of the then existing constitution, had the
force of a law,--by which every man was forbidden to print, or
cause to be printed, anything whatever upon administrative
affairs, or government regulations in general, under the penalty
of a breach of the police laws; by which the man was liable to be
punished without defence, and not as was the case before the law
courts, where he might defend himself, and could only be judged
according to law.' _Schlosser's Eighteenth Century_, vol. ii. p.
166: see also _Mém. de Morellet_, vol. i. p. 141, vol. ii. p. 75,
'un arrêt du conseil, qui défendait d'imprimer sur les matières
d'administration.'
[792] 'L'ordonnance de 1767, rendue sous le ministère du chancelier
Maupeou, portait la peine de mort contre tout auteur d'écrits
tendant à émouvoir les esprits.' _Cassagnac_, _Causes de la
Révolution_, vol. i. p. 313.
[793] In April 1757, D'Alembert writes from Paris, 'on vient de publier
une déclaration qui inflige la peine de mort à tous ceux qui
auront publié des écrits tendants à attaquer la religion.'
_[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. liv. p. 34. This, I suppose, is the
same edict as that mentioned by M. Amédée Renée, in his
continuation of _Sismondi_, _Histoire des Français_, vol. xxx. p.
247.
[794] 'Il avait été défendu, sous peine de mort, aux écrivains de parler
de finances.' _Lavallée_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. iii. p. 490.
[795] This was the suggestion of the avocat-général in 1780. See the
proposal, in his own words, in _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. xi.
pp. 143, 144. On the important functions of the avocats-généraux
in the eighteenth century, see a note in _Lettres d'Aguesseau_,
vol. i. p. 264.
For these are by no means to be considered as trifling matters, merely
interesting to men of letters. In France, in the eighteenth century,
literature was the last resource of liberty. In England, if our great
authors should prostitute their abilities by inculcating servile
opinions, the danger would no doubt be considerable, because other parts
of society might find it difficult to escape the contagion. Still,
before the corruption had spread, there would be time to stop its
course, so long as we possessed those free political institutions, by
the mere mention of which the generous imagination of a bold people is
easily fired. And although such institutions are the consequence, not
the cause, of liberty, they do unquestionably react upon it, and from
the force of habit they could for a while survive that from which they
originally sprung. So long as a country retains its political freedom,
there will always remain associations by which, even in the midst of
mental degradation, and out of the depths of the lowest superstition,
the minds of men may be recalled to better things. But in France such
associations had no existence. In France everything was for the
governors and nothing for the governed. There was neither free press,
nor free parliament, nor free debates. There were no public meetings;
there was no popular suffrage; there was no discussion on the hustings;
there was no habeas-corpus act; there was no trial by jury. The voice of
liberty, thus silenced in every department of the state, could only be
heard in the appeals of those great men, who, by their writings,
inspirited the people to resistance. This is the point of view from
which we ought to estimate the character of those who are often accused
of having wantonly disturbed the ancient fabric.[796] They, as well as
the people at large, were cruelly oppressed by the crown, the nobles,
and the church; and they used their abilities to retaliate the injury.
There can be no doubt that this was the best course open to them. There
can be no doubt that rebellion is the last remedy against tyranny, and
that a despotic system should be encountered by a revolutionary
literature. The upper classes were to blame, because they struck the
first blow; but we must by no means censure those great men, who, having
defended themselves from aggression, eventually succeeded in smiting the
government by whom the aggression was originally made.
[796] And we should also remember what the circumstances were under
which the accusation was first heard in France. 'Les reproches
d'avoir tout détruit, adressés aux philosophes du dix-huitième
siècle, ont commencé le jour où il s'est trouvé en France un
gouvernement qui a voulu rétablir les abus dont les écrivains de
cette époque avaient accéléré la destruction.' _Comte_, _Traité
de Législation_, vol. i. p. 72.
Without, however, stopping to vindicate their conduct, we have now to
consider what is much more important, namely, the origin of that crusade
against Christianity, in which, unhappily for France, they were
compelled to embark, and the occurrence of which forms the third great
antecedent of the French Revolution. A knowledge of the causes of this
hostility against Christianity is essential to a right understanding of
the philosophy of the eighteenth century, and it will throw some light
on the general theory of ecclesiastical power.
It is a circumstance well worthy of remark, that the revolutionary
literature which eventually overturned all the institutions of France,
was at first directed against those which were religious, rather than
against those which were political. The great writers who rose into
notice soon after the death of Louis XIV., exerted themselves against
spiritual despotism; while the overthrow of secular despotism was left
to their immediate successors.[797] This is not the course which would
be pursued in a healthy state of society; and there is no doubt, that
to this peculiarity the crimes and the lawless violence of the French
Revolution are in no small degree to be ascribed. It is evident, that in
the legitimate progress of a nation, political innovations should keep
pace with religious innovations, so that the people may increase their
liberty while they diminish their superstition. In France, on the
contrary, during nearly forty years, the church was attacked, and the
government was spared. The consequence was, that the order and balance
of the country were destroyed; the minds of men became habituated to the
most daring speculations, while their acts were controlled by the most
oppressive despotism; and they felt themselves possessed of capacities
which their rulers would not allow them to employ. When, therefore, the
French Revolution broke out, it was not a mere rising of ignorant slaves
against educated masters, but it was a rising of men in whom the despair
caused by slavery was quickened by the resources of advancing knowledge;
men who were in that frightful condition when the progress of intellect
outstrips the progress of liberty, and when a desire is felt, not only
to remove a tyranny, but also to avenge an insult.
[797] The nature of this change, and the circumstances under which it
happened, will be examined in the last chapter of the present
volume; but that the revolutionary movement, while headed by
Voltaire and his coadjutors, was directed against the church, and
not against the state, is noticed by many writers; some of whom
have also observed, that soon after the middle of the reign of
Louis XV. the ground began to be shifted, and a disposition was
first shown to attack political abuses. On this remarkable fact,
indicated by several authors, but explained by none, compare
_Lacretelle_, _XVIII^e Siècle_, vol. ii. p. 305; _Barruel_, _Mém.
pour l'Hist. du Jacobinisme_, vol. i. p. xviii., vol. ii. p. 113;
_Tocqueville_, _L'Ancien Régime_, p. 241; _Alison's Europe_, vol.
i. p. 165, vol. xiv. p. 286; _Mém. de Rivarol_, p. 35;
_Soulavie_, _Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. iv. p. 397; _Lamartine_,
_Hist. des Girondins_, vol. i. p. 183; _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_,
vol. lx. p. 307, vol. lxvi. p. 34.
There can be no doubt that to this we must ascribe some of the most
hideous peculiarities of the French Revolution. It, therefore, becomes a
matter of great interest to inquire how it was, that while in England
political freedom and religious sceptism have accompanied and aided each
other, there should, on the other hand, have taken place in France a
vast movement, in which, during nearly forty years, the ablest men
neglected the freedom, while they encouraged the scepticism, and
diminished the power of the church, without increasing the liberties of
the people.
The first reason of this appears to be, the nature of those ideas out
of which the French had long constructed the traditions of their glory.
A train of circumstances which, when treating of the protective spirit,
I attempted to indicate, had secured to the French kings an authority
which, by making all classes subordinate to the crown, flattered the
popular vanity.[798] Hence it was, that in France the feelings of
loyalty worked into the national mind deeper than in any other country
of Europe, Spain alone excepted.[799] The difference between this spirit
and that observable in England has been already noticed, and may be
still further illustrated by the different ways in which the two nations
have dealt with the posthumous reputation of their sovereigns. With the
exception of Alfred, who is sometimes called the Great,[800] we in
England have not sufficiently loved any of our princes to bestow upon
them titles expressive of personal admiration. But the French have
decorated their kings with every variety of panegyric. Thus, to take
only a single name, one king is Louis the Mild, another is Louis the
Saint, another is Louis the Just, another is Louis the Great, and the
most hopelessly vicious of all was called Louis the Beloved.
[798] See some striking remarks in M. Tocqueville's great work, _De la
Démocratie_, vol. i. p. 5; which should be compared with the
observation of Horace Walpole, who was well acquainted with
French society, and who says, happily enough, that the French
'love themselves in their kings.' _Walpole's Mem. of George III_,
vol. ii. p. 240.
[799] Not only the political history of Spain, but also its literature,
contains melancholy evidence of the extraordinary loyalty of the
Spaniards, and of the injurious results produced by it. See, on
this, some useful reflections in _Ticknor's Hist. of Spanish
Literature_, vol. i. pp. 95, 96, 133, vol. iii. pp. 191-193.
[800] Our admiration of Alfred is greatly increased by the fact, that we
know very little about him. The principal authority referred to
for his reign is Asser, whose work, there is reason to believe,
is not genuine. See the arguments in _Wright's Biog. Brit. Lit._
vol. i. pp. 408-412. It moreover appears, that some of the
institutions popularly ascribed to him, existed before his time.
_Kemble's Saxons in England_, vol. i. pp. 247, 248.
These are facts which, insignificant as they seem, form most important
materials for real history, since they are unequivocal symptoms of the
state of the country in which they exist.[801] Their relation to the
subject before us is obvious. For, by them, and by the circumstances
from which they sprung, an intimate and hereditary association was
engendered in the minds of Frenchmen, between the glory of their nation
and the personal reputation of their sovereign. The consequence was,
that the political conduct of the rulers of France was protected against
censure by a fence far more impassable than any that could be erected by
the most stringent laws. It was protected by those prejudices which each
generation bequeathed to its successor. It was protected by that halo
which time had thrown round the oldest monarchy in Europe.[802] And
above all, it was protected by that miserable national vanity, which
made men submit to taxation and to slavery, in order that foreign
princes might be dazzled by the splendour of their sovereign, and
foreign countries intimidated by the greatness of his victories.
[801] The French writers, under the old régime, constantly boast that
loyalty was the characteristic of their nation, and taunt the
English with their opposite and insubordinate spirit. 'Il n'est
pas ici question des François, qui se sont toujours distingués
des autres nations par leur amour pour leurs rois.' _Le Blanc_,
_Lettres d'un François_, vol. iii. p. 523. 'The English do not
love their sovereigns as much as could be desired.' _Sorbière's
Voyage to England_, p. 58. 'Le respect de la majesté royale,
caractère distinctif des Français.' _Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. ii.
p. 54. 'L'amour et la fidélité que les Français ont naturellement
pour leurs princes.' _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. ii. p. 3. 'Les
Français, qui aiment leurs princes.' _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._
vol. iii. p. 381; and see vol. xi. p. 729. For further evidence,
see _Sully_, _[OE]conomies_, vol. iv. p. 346; _Monteil_, _Divers
Etats_, vol. vii. p. 105; _Ségur_, _Mémoires_, vol. i. p. 32;
_Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. iv. p. 58.
Now, contrast with all this the sentiments contained in one of
the most celebrated histories in the English language: 'There is
not any one thing more certain and more evident, than that
princes are made for the people, and not the people for them; and
perhaps there is no nation under heaven that is more entirely
possessed with this notion of princes than the English nation is
in this age; so that they will soon be uneasy to a prince who
does not govern himself by this maxim, and in time grow very
unkind to him.' _Burnet's History of his Own Time_, vol. vi. p.
223. This manly and wholesome passage was written while the
French were licking the dust from the feet of Louis XIV.
[802] 'La race des rois la plus ancienne.' _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. ix.
p. 281. 'Nos rois, issus de la plus grande race du monde, et
devant qui les Césars, et la plus grande partie des princes qui
jadis ont commandé tant de nations, ne sont que des roturiers.'
_Mém. de Motteville_, vol. ii. p. 417. And a Venetian ambassador,
in the sixteenth century, says, that France is 'il regno più
antico d'ogn' altro che sia in essere al presente.' _Relat. des
Ambassad._ vol. i. p. 470. Compare _Boullier_, _Maison Militaire
des Rois de France_, p. 360.
The upshot of all this was, that when, early in the eighteenth century,
the intellect of France began to be roused into action, the idea of
attacking the abuses of the monarchy never occurred even to the boldest
thinker. But, under the protection of the crown, there had grown up
another institution, about which less delicacy was felt. The clergy, who
for so long a period had been allowed to oppress the consciences of men,
were not sheltered by those national associations which surrounded the
person of the sovereign; nor had any of them, with the single exception
of Bossuet, done much to increase the general reputation of France.
Indeed, the French church, though during the reign of Louis XIV. it
possessed immense authority, had always exercised it in subordination to
the crown, at whose bidding it had not feared to oppose even the pope
himself.[803] It was, therefore, natural, that in France the
ecclesiastical power should be attacked before the temporal power;
because, while it was as despotic, it was less influential, and because
it was unprotected by those popular traditions which form the principal
support of every ancient institution.
[803] _Capefigue's Louis XIV_, vol. i. pp. 204, 301; _Koch_, _Tableau
des Révolutions_, vol. ii. p. 16. M. Ranke (_Die Päpste_, vol.
ii. p. 257) ascribes this to the circumstances attending the
apostasy of Henry IV.; but the cause lies much deeper, being
connected with that triumph of the secular interests over the
spiritual, of which the policy of Henry IV. was itself a
consequence.
These considerations are sufficient to explain why it was that, in this
respect, the French and English intellects adopted courses so entirely
different. In England, the minds of men, being less hampered with the
prejudices of an indiscriminate loyalty, have been able at each
successive step in the great progress to direct their doubts and
inquiries on politics as well as on religion; and thus establishing
their freedom as they diminished their superstition, they have
maintained the balance of the national intellect, without allowing to
either of its divisions an excessive preponderance. But in France the
admiration for royalty had become so great, that this balance was
disturbed; the inquiries of men not daring to settle on politics, were
fixed on religion, and gave rise to the singular phenomenon of a rich
and powerful literature, in which unanimous hostility to the church was
unaccompanied by a single voice against the enormous abuses of the
state.
There was likewise another circumstance which increased this peculiar
tendency. During the reign of Louis XIV. the personal character of the
hierarchy had done much to secure their dominion. All the leaders of the
church were men of virtue, and many were men of ability. Their conduct,
tyrannical as it was, seems to have been conscientious; and the evils
which it produced are merely to be ascribed to the gross impolicy of
entrusting ecclesiastics with power. But after the death of Louis XIV. a
great change took place. The Clergy, from causes which it would be
tedious to investigate, became extremely dissolute, and often very
ignorant. This made their tyranny more oppressive, because to submit to
it was more disgraceful. The great abilities and unblemished morals of
men like Bossuet, Fénélon, Bourdaloue, Fléchier, and Mascaron,
diminished in some degree the ignominy which is always connected with
blind obedience. But when they were succeeded by such bishops and
cardinals as Dubois, Lafiteau, Tencin, and others who flourished under
the regency, it became difficult to respect the heads of the church,
tainted as they were with open and notorious depravity.[804] At the same
time that there occurred this unfavourable change among the
ecclesiastical rulers, there also occurred that immense reaction of
which I have endeavoured to trace the early workings. It was therefore,
at the very moment when the spirit of inquiry became stronger that the
character of the Clergy became more contemptible.[805] The great writers
who were now rising in France, were moved to indignation when they saw
that those who usurped unlimited power over consciences had themselves
no consciences at all. It is evident, that every argument which they
borrowed from England against ecclesiastical power, would gain
additional force when directed against men whose personal unfitness was
universally acknowledged.[806]
[804] _Lavallée_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. iii. p. 408; _Flassan_,
_Hist. de la Diplomatie_, vol. v. p. 3; _Tocqueville_, _Règne de
Louis XV_, vol. i. pp. 35, 347; _Duclos_, _Mémoires_, vol. ii.
pp. 42, 43, 154, 155, 223, 224. What was, if possible, still more
scandalous, was, that in 1723 the assembly of the clergy elected
as their president, unanimously ('d'une voix unanime'), the
infamous Dubois, the most notoriously immoral man of his time.
_Duclos_, _Mém._ vol. ii. p. 262.
[805] On this decline of the French clergy, see _Villemain_, _XVIII^e
Siècle_, vol. iii. pp. 178, 179; _Cousin_, _Hist. de la Philos._
II^e série, vol. i. p. 301. _Tocqueville_ (_Règne de Louis XV_,
vol. i. pp. 35-38, 365) says, 'le clergé prêchait une morale
qu'il compromettait par sa conduite;' a noticeable remark, when
made by an opponent of the sceptical philosophy, like the elder
M. Tocqueville. Among this profligate crew, Massillon stood
alone; he being the last French bishop who was remarkable for
virtue as well as for ability.
[806] Voltaire says of the English, 'quand ils apprennent qu'en France
de jeunes gens connus par leurs débauches, et élevés à la
prélature par des intrigues de femmes, font publiquement l'amour,
s'égaient à composer des chansons tendres, donnent tous les jours
des soupers délicats et longs, et de là vont implorer les
lumières du Saint-Esprit, et se nomment hardiment les
successeures des apôtres ils remercient Dieu d'être protestants.'
_Lettres sur les Anglais_, in _[OE]uvres_, vol. xxvi. p. 29.
Such was the position of the rival parties, when, almost immediately
after the death of Louis XIV., there began that great struggle between
authority and reason, which is still unfinished, although in the present
state of knowledge its result is no longer doubtful. On the one side
there was a compact and numerous priesthood, supported by the
prescription of centuries and by the authority of the crown. On the
other side there was a small body of men, without rank, without wealth,
and as yet without reputation, but animated by a love of liberty, and by
a just confidence in their own abilities. Unfortunately, they at the
very outset committed a serious error. In attacking the clergy, they
lost their respect for religion. In their determination to weaken
ecclesiastical power, they attempted to undermine the foundations of
Christianity. This is deeply to be regretted for their own sake, as well
as for its ultimate effects in France; but it must not be imputed to
them as a crime, since it was forced on them by the exigencies of their
position. They saw the frightful evils which their country was suffering
from the institution of priesthood as it then existed; and yet they were
told that the preservation of that institution in its actual form was
essential to the very being of Christianity. They had always been taught
that the interests of the clergy were identical with the interests of
religion; how then could they avoid including both clergy and religion
in the same hostility? The alternative was cruel; but it was one from
which, in common honesty, they had no escape. We, judging these things
by another standard, possess a measure which they could not possibly
have. We should not now commit such an error, because we know that there
is no connexion between any one particular form of priesthood and the
interests of Christianity. We know that the clergy are made for the
people, and not the people for the clergy. We know that all questions of
church government are matters, not of religion, but of policy, and
should be settled, not according to traditional dogmas, but according to
large views of general expediency. It is because these propositions are
now admitted by all enlightened men, that in our country the truths of
religion are rarely attacked except by superficial thinkers. If, for
instance, we were to find that the existence of our bishops, with their
privileges and their wealth, is unfavourable to the progress of society,
we should not on that account feel enmity against Christianity; because
we should remember that episcopacy is its accident, and not its
essential, and that we could do away with the institution and yet retain
the religion. In the same way, if we should ever find, what was formerly
found in France, that the clergy were tyrannical, this would excite in
us an opposition, not to Christianity, but merely to the external form
which Christianity assumed. So long as our clergy confine themselves to
the beneficent duties of their calling, to the alleviation of pain and
distress, either bodily or mental, so long will we respect them as the
ministers of peace and of charity. But if they should ever again
entrench on the rights of the laity,--if they should ever again
interfere with an authoritative voice in the government of the
state,--it will then be for the people to inquire, whether the time has
not come to effect a revision of the ecclesiastical constitution of the
country. This, therefore, is the manner in which we now view these
things. What we think of the clergy will depend upon themselves; but
will have no connection with what we think of Christianity. We look on
the clergy as a body of men who, notwithstanding their disposition to
intolerance, and notwithstanding a certain narrowness incidental to
their profession, do undoubtedly form part of a vast and noble
institution, by which the manners of men have been softened, their
sufferings assuaged, their distresses relieved. As long as this
institution performs its functions, we are well content to let it stand.
If, however, it should be out of repair, or if it should be found
inadequate to the shifting circumstances of an advancing society, we
retain both the power and the right of remedying its faults; we may, if
need be, remove some of its parts; but we would not, we dare not, tamper
with those great religious truths which are altogether independent of
it; truths which comfort the mind of man, raise him above the instincts
of the hour, and infuse into him those lofty aspirations which,
revealing to him his own immortality, are the measure and the symptom of
a future life.
Unfortunately, this was not the way in which these matters were
considered in France. The government of that country, by investing the
clergy with great immunities, by treating them as if there were
something sacred about their persons, and by punishing as heresy the
attacks which were made on them, had established in the national mind an
indissoluble connexion between their interests and the interests of
Christianity. The consequence was, that when the struggle began, the
ministers of religion, and religion itself, were both assailed with
equal zeal. The ridicule, and even the abuse, heaped on the clergy, will
surprise no one who is acquainted with the provocation that had been
received. And although, in the indiscriminate onslaught which soon
followed, Christianity was, for a time, subjected to a fate which ought
to have been reserved for those who called themselves her ministers;
this, while it moves us to regret, ought by no means to excite our
astonishment. The destruction of Christianity in France was the
necessary result of those opinions which bound up the destiny of the
national priesthood with the destiny of the national religion. If both
were connected by the same origin, both should fall in the same ruin. If
that which is the tree of life, were, in reality, so corrupt that it
could only bear poisonous fruits, then it availed little to lop off the
boughs and cut down the branches; but it were better, by one mighty
effort, to root it up from the ground, and secure the health of society
by stopping the very source of the contagion.
These are reflections which must make us pause before we censure the
deistical writers of the eighteenth century. So perverted, however, are
the reasonings to which some minds are accustomed, that those who judge
them most uncharitably are precisely those whose conduct forms their
best excuse. Such are the men who, by putting forth the most extravagant
claims in favour of the clergy, are seeking to establish the principle,
by the operation of which the clergy were destroyed. Their scheme for
restoring the old system of ecclesiastical authority depends on the
supposition of its divine origin: a supposition which, if inseparable
from Christianity, will at once justify the infidelity which they hotly
attack. The increase of the power of the clergy is incompatible with the
interests of civilization. If, therefore, any religion adopts as its
creed the necessity of such an increase, it becomes the bounden duty of
every friend to humanity to do his utmost, either to destroy the creed,
or failing in that, to overturn the religion. If pretensions of this
sort are an essential part of Christianity, it behoves us at once to
make our choice; since the only option can be, between abjuring our
faith or sacrificing our liberty. Fortunately, we are not driven to so
hard a strait; and we know that these claims are as false in theory, as
they would be pernicious in practice. It is, indeed, certain, that if
they were put into execution, the clergy, though they might enjoy a
momentary triumph, would have consummated their own ruin, by preparing
the way among us for scenes as disastrous as those which occurred in
France.
The truth is, that what is most blamed in the great French writers, was
the natural consequence of the development of their age. Never was there
a more striking illustration of the social law already noticed, that, if
government will allow religious scepticism to run its course, it will
issue in great things, and will hasten the march of civilization; but
that, if an attempt is made to put it down with a strong hand, it may,
no doubt, be repressed for a time, but eventually will rise with such
force as to endanger the foundation of society. In England, we adopted
the first of these courses; in France, they adopted the second. In
England, men were allowed to exercise their own judgment on the most
sacred subjects; and, as soon as the diminution of their credulity had
made them set bounds to the power of the clergy, toleration immediately
followed, and the national prosperity has never been disturbed. In
France, the authority of the clergy was increased by a superstitious
king; faith usurped the place of reason, not a whisper of doubt was
allowed to be heard, and the spirit of inquiry was stifled, until the
country fell to the brink of ruin. If Louis XIV. had not interfered with
the natural progress, France, like England, would have continued to
advance. After his death, it was, indeed, too late to save the clergy,
against whom all the intellect of the nation was soon arrayed. But the
force of the storm might still have been broken, if the government of
Louis XV. had conciliated what it was impossible to resist; and,
instead of madly attempting to restrain opinions by laws, had altered
the laws to suit the opinions. If the rulers of France, instead of
exerting themselves to silence the national literature, had yielded to
its suggestions, and had receded before the pressure of advancing
knowledge, the fatal collision would have been avoided; because the
passions which caused the collision would have been appeased. In such
case, the church would have fallen somewhat earlier; but the state
itself would have been saved. In such case, France would, in all
probability, have secured her liberties, without increasing her crimes;
and that great country, which, from her position and resources, ought to
be the pattern of European civilization, might have escaped the ordeal
of those terrible atrocities, through which she was compelled to pass,
and from the effects of which she has not yet recovered.
It must, I think, be admitted that, during, at all events, the first
half of the reign of Louis XV., it was possible, by timely concessions,
still to preserve the political institutions of France. Reforms there
must have been; and reforms too of a large and uncompromising character.
So far, however, as I am able to understand the real history of that
period, I make no doubt that, if these had been granted in a frank and
ungrudging spirit, everything could have been retained necessary for the
only two objects at which government ought to aim, namely, the
preservation of order, and the prevention of crime. But, by the middle
of the reign of Louis XV., or, at all events, immediately afterwards,
the state of affairs began to alter; and, in the course of a few years,
the spirit of France became so democratic, that it was impossible even
to delay a revolution, which, in the preceding generation, might have
been altogether averted. This remarkable change is connected with that
other change already noticed, by virtue of which, the French intellect
began, about the same period, to direct its hostility against the state,
rather than, as heretofore, against the church. As soon as this, which
may be called the second epoch of the eighteenth century, had been
fairly entered, the movement became irresistible. Event after event
followed each other in rapid succession; each one linked to its
antecedent, and the whole forming a tendency impossible to withstand. It
was in vain that the government, yielding some points of real
importance, adopted measures by which the church was controlled, the
power of the clergy diminished, and even the order of the jesuits
suppressed. It was in vain that the crown now called to its councils,
for the first time, men imbued with the spirit of reform; men, like
Turgot and Necker, whose wise and liberal proposals would, in calmer
days, have stilled the agitation of the popular mind. It was in vain
that promises were made to equalize the taxes, to redress some of the
most crying grievances, to repeal some of the most obnoxious laws. It
was even in vain that the states-general were summoned; and that thus,
after the lapse of a hundred and seventy years, the people were again
admitted to take part in the management of their own affairs. All these
things were in vain; because the time for treaty had gone by, and the
time for battle had come. The most liberal concessions that could
possibly have been devised would have failed to avert that deadly
struggle, which the course of preceding events made inevitable. For the
measure of that age was now full. The upper classes, intoxicated by the
long possession of power, had provoked the crisis; and it was needful
that they should abide the issue. There was no time for mercy; there was
no pause, no compassion, no sympathy. The only question that remained
was, to see whether they who had raised the storm could ride the
whirlwind; or, whether it was not rather likely that they should be the
first victims of that frightful hurricane, in which, for a moment, laws,
religion, morals, all perished, the lowest vestiges of humanity were
effaced, and the civilization of France not only submerged, but, as it
then appeared, irretrievably ruined.
To ascertain the successive changes of this, the second epoch of the
eighteenth century, is an undertaking full of difficulty; not only on
account of the rapidity with which the events occurred, but also on
account of their extreme complication, and of the way in which they
acted and reacted upon each other. The materials, however, for such an
inquiry are very numerous; and, as they consist of evidence supplied by
all classes and all interests, it has appeared to me possible to
reconstruct the history of that time, according to the only manner in
which history deserves to be studied; that is to say, according to the
order of its social and intellectual development. In the seventh chapter
of the present volume, I shall, therefore, attempt to trace the
antecedents of the French Revolution during that remarkable period, in
which the hostility of men, slackening in regard to the abuses of the
church, was, for the first time, turned against the abuses of the state.
But, before entering into this, which may be distinguished as the
political epoch of the eighteenth century, it will be necessary,
according to the plan which I have sketched, to examine the changes that
occurred in the method of writing history, and to indicate the way in
which those changes were affected by the tendencies of the earlier, or,
as it may be termed, the ecclesiastical epoch. In this manner, we shall
the more easily understand the activity of that prodigious movement
which led to the French Revolution; because we shall see that it not
only affected the opinions of men in regard to what was passing under
their eyes, but that it also biased their speculative views in regard to
the events of preceding ages; and thus gave rise to that new school of
historical literature, the formation of which is by no means the least
of the many benefits which we owe to the great thinkers of the
eighteenth century.