whose works, like those of all men of the highest eminence,--like those
of Aristotle, Bacon, and Descartes,--mark an epoch in the history of the
human mind; and as such, can only be fairly estimated by connecting them
with the social and intellectual condition of the age in which they
appeared. This gives an importance and a meaning to the writings of
Bichat, of which few indeed are fully aware. The two greatest recent
discoveries respecting the classification of animals are, as we have
just seen, the result of his teaching; but his influence has produced
other effects still more momentous. He, aided by Cabanis, rendered to
physiology the incalculable service, of preventing it from participating
in that melancholy reaction to which France was exposed early in the
nineteenth century. This is too large a subject to discuss at present;
but I may mention, that when Napoleon, not from feelings of conviction,
but for selfish purposes of his own, attempted to restore the power of
ecclesiastical principles, the men of letters, with disgraceful
subserviency, fell into his view; and there began a marked decline in
that independent and innovating spirit, with which during fifty years
the French had cultivated the highest departments of knowledge. Hence
that metaphysical school arose, which, though professing to hold aloof
from theology, was intimately allied with it; and whose showy conceits
form, in their ephemeral splendour, a striking contrast to the severer
methods followed in the preceding generation.[1111] Against this
movement, the French physiologists have, as a body, always protested;
and it may be clearly proved that their opposition, which even the great
abilities of Cuvier were unable to win over, is partly due to the
impetus given by Bichat, in enforcing in his own pursuit the necessity
of rejecting those assumptions by which metaphysicians and theologians
seek to control every science. As an illustration of this I may mention
two facts worthy of note. The first is, that in England, where during a
considerable period the influence of Bichat was scarcely felt, many,
even of our eminent physiologists, have shown a marked disposition to
ally themselves with the reactionary party; and have not only opposed
such novelties as they could not immediately explain, but have degraded
their own noble science by making it a handmaid to serve the purposes of
natural theology. The other fact is, that in France the disciples of
Bichat have, with scarcely an exception, rejected the study of final
causes, to which the school of Cuvier still adheres: while as a natural
consequence, the followers of Bichat are associated in geology with the
doctrine of uniformity; in zoology, with that of the transmutation of
species; and in astronomy, with the nebular hypothesis: vast and
magnificent schemes, under whose shelter the human mind seeks an escape
from that dogma of interference, which the march of knowledge every
where reduces, and the existence of which is incompatible with those
conceptions of eternal order, towards which, during the last two
centuries, we have been constantly tending.
[1111] In literature and in theology, Chateaubriand and De Maistre were
certainly the most eloquent, and were probably the most
influential leaders of this reaction. Neither of them liked
induction, but preferred reasoning deductively from premises
which they assumed, and which they called first principles. De
Maistre, however, was a powerful dialectician, and on that
account his works are read by many who care nothing for the
gorgeous declamation of Chateaubriand. In metaphysics, a
precisely similar movement occurred; and Laromiguière, Royer
Collard, and Maine de Biran, founded that celebrated school
which culminated in M. Cousin, and which is equally
characterized by an ignorance of the philosophy of induction,
and by a want of sympathy with physical science.
These great phenomena, which the French intellect presents, and of which
I have only sketched a rapid outline, will be related with suitable
detail in the latter part of this work, when I shall examine the present
condition of the European mind, and endeavour to estimate its future
prospects. To complete, however, our appreciation of Bichat, it will be
necessary to take notice of what some consider the most valuable of all
his productions, in which he aimed at nothing less than an exhaustive
generalization of the functions of life. It appears, indeed, to me, that
in many important points Bichat here fell short; but the work itself
still stands alone, and is so striking an instance of the genius of the
author, that I will give a short account of its fundamental views.
Life considered as a whole has two distinct branches;[1112] one branch
being characteristic of animals, the other of vegetables. That which is
confined to animals is called animal life; that which is common both to
animals and vegetables is called organic life. While, therefore, plants
have only one life, man has two distinct lives, which are governed by
entirely different laws, and which, though intimately connected,
constantly oppose each other. In the organic life, man exists solely for
himself; in the animal life he comes in contact with others. The
functions of the first are purely internal, those of the second are
external. His organic life is limited to the double process of creation
and destruction: the creative process being that of assimilation, as
digestion, circulation, and nutrition; the destructive process being
that of excretion, such as exhalation and the like. This is what man has
in common with plants; and of this life he, when in a natural state, is
unconscious. But the characteristic of his animal life is consciousness,
since by it he is made capable of moving, of feeling, of judging. By
virtue of the first life he is merely a vegetable; by the addition of
the second he becomes an animal.
[1112] _Bichat_, _Recherches sur la Vie et la Mort_, pp. 5-9, 226; and
his _Anat. Gén._ vol. i. p. 72.
If now we look at the organs by which in man the functions of these two
lives are carried on, we shall be struck by the remarkable fact, that
the organs of his vegetable life are very irregular, those of his animal
life very symmetrical. His vegetative, or organic, life is conducted by
the stomach, the intestines, and the glandular system in general, such
as the liver and the pancreas; all of which are irregular, and admit of
the greatest variety of form and development, without their functions
being seriously disturbed. But in his animal life the organs are so
essentially symmetrical, that a very slight departure from the ordinary
type impairs their action.[1113] Not only the brain, but also the
organs of sense, as the eyes, the nose, the ears, are perfectly
symmetrical; and they as well as the other organs of animal life, as the
feet and hands, are double, presenting on each side of the body two
separate parts which correspond with each other, and produce a symmetry
unknown to our vegetative life, the organs of which are, for the most
part, merely single, as in the stomach, liver, pancreas, and
spleen.[1114]
[1113] 'C'est de là, sans doute, que naît cette autre différence entre
les organes des deux vies, savoir, que la nature se livre bien
plus rarement à des écarts de conformation dans la vie animale
que dans la vie organique.... C'est une remarque qui n'a pu
échapper à celui dont les dissections ont été un peu
multipliées, que les fréquentes variations de formes, de
grandeur, de position, de direction des organes internes, comme
la rate, le foie, l'estomac, les reins, les organes salivaires,
etc.... Jetons maintenant les yeux sur les organes de la vie
animale, sur les sens, les nerfs, le cerveau, les muscles
volontaires, le larynx; tout y est exact, précis, rigoureusement
déterminé dans la forme, la grandeur et la position. On n'y voit
presque jamais de variétés, de conformation; s'il en existe, les
fonctions sont troublées, anéanties; tandis qu'elles restent les
mêmes dans la vie organique, au milieu des altérations diverses
des parties.' _Bichat sur la Vie_, pp. 23-25. Part of this view
is corroborated by the evidence collected by Saint Hilaire
(_Anomalies de l'Organisation_, vol. i. pp. 248 seq.) of the
extraordinary aberrations to which the vegetative organs are
liable; and he mentions (vol. ii. p. 8) the case of a man, in
whose body, on dissection, 'on reconnut que tous les viscères
étaient transposés.' Comparative anatomy supplies another
illustration. The bodies of mollusca are less symmetrical than
those of articulata; and in the former, the 'vegetal series of
organs,' says Mr. Owen, are more developed than the animal
series; while in the articulata, 'the advance is most
conspicuous in the organs peculiar to animal life.' _Owen's
Invertebrata_, p. 470. Compare _Burdach's Physiologie_, vol. i.
pp. 153, 189; and a confirmation of the 'unsymmetrical' organs
of the gasterpoda, in _Grant's Comparative Anatomy_, p. 461.
This curious antagonism is still further seen in the
circumstance, that idiots, whose functions of nutrition and of
excretion are often very active, are at the same time remarkable
for a want of symmetry in the organs of sensation. _Esquirol_,
_Maladies Mentales_, vol. ii. pp. 331, 332.
A result, though perhaps an unconscious one, of the application
and extension of these ideas, is, that within the last few years
there has arisen a pathological theory of what are called
'symmetrical diseases,' the leading facts of which have been
long known, but are now only beginning to be generalized. See
_Paget's Pathology_, vol. i. pp. 18-22, vol. ii. pp. 244, 245;
_Simon's Pathology_, pp. 210, 211; _Carpenter's Human Physiol._
pp. 607, 608.
[1114] _Bichat sur la Vie_, pp. 15-21.
From this fundamental difference between the organs of the two lives,
there have arisen several other differences of great interest. Our
animal life being double, while our organic life is single, it becomes
possible for the former life to take rest, that is, stop part of its
functions for a time, and afterwards renew them. But in organic life, to
stop is to die. The life, which we have in common with vegetables, never
sleeps; and if its movements entirely cease only for a single instant,
they cease for ever. That process by which our bodies receive some
substances and give out others, admits of no interruption; it is, by its
nature, incessant, because, being single, it can never receive
supplementary aid. The other life we may refresh, not only in sleep, but
even when we are awake. Thus we can exercise the organs of movement
while we rest the organs of thought; and it is even possible to relieve
a function while we continue to employ it, because, our animal life
being double, we are able for a short time, in case of one of its parts
being fatigued, to avail ourselves of the corresponding part; using, for
instance, a single eye or a single arm, in order to rest the one which
circumstances may have exhausted; an expedient which the single nature
of organic life entirely prevents.[1115]
[1115] _Ibid._ pp. 21-50.
Our animal life being thus essentially intermittent, and our organic
life being essentially continuous,[1116] it has necessarily followed
that the first is capable of an improvement of which the second is
incapable. There can be no improvement without comparison, since it is
only by comparing one state with another that we can rectify previous
errors, and avoid future ones. Now, our organic life does not admit of
such comparison, because, being uninterrupted, it is not broken into
stages, but when unchequered by disease, runs on in dull monotony. On
the other hand, the functions of our animal life, such as thought,
speech, sight, and motion, cannot be long exercised without rest; and as
they are constantly suspended, it becomes practicable to compare them,
and, therefore, to improve them. It is by possessing this resource that
the first cry of the infant gradually rises into the perfect speech of
the man, and the unformed habits of early thought are ripened into that
maturity which nothing can give but a long series of successive
efforts.[1117] But our organic life, which we have in common with
vegetables, admits of no interruption, and consequently of no
improvement. It obeys its own laws; but it derives no benefit from that
repetition to which animal life is exclusively indebted. Its functions,
such as nutrition and the like, exist in man several months before he is
born, and while, his animal life not having yet begun, the faculty of
comparison, which is the basis of improvement, is impossible.[1118] And
although, as the human frame increases in size, its vegetative organs
become larger, it cannot be supposed that their functions really
improve, since, in ordinary cases, their duties are performed as
regularly and as completely in childhood as in middle age.[1119]
[1116] On intermittence as a quality of animal life, see _Holland's
Medical Notes_, pp. 313, 314, where Bichat is mentioned as its
great expounder. As to the essential continuity of organic life,
see _Burdach's Physiologie_, vol. vii. p. 420. M. Comte has made
some interesting remarks on Bichat's law of intermittence.
_Philos. Positive_, vol. iii. pp. 300, 395, 744, 745, 750, 751.
[1117] On the development arising from practice, see _Bichat sur la
Vie_, pp. 207-225.
[1118] _Ibid._ pp. 189-203, 225-230. M. Broussais also (in his able
work, _Cours de Phrénologie_, p. 487) says, that comparison only
begins after birth; but surely this must be very doubtful. Few
physiologists will deny that embryological phenomena, though
neglected by metaphysicians, play a great part in shaping the
future character; and I do not see how any system of psychology
can be complete which ignores considerations, probable in
themselves, and not refuted by special evidence. So carelessly,
however, has this subject been investigated, that we have the
most conflicting statements respecting even the _vagitus
uterinus_, which, if it exists to the extent alleged by some
physiologists, would be a decisive proof that animal life (in
the sense of Bichat) does begin during the f[oe]tal period.
Compare _Burdach_, _Physiol._ vol. iv. pp. 113, 114, with
_Wagner's Physiol._ p. 182.
[1119] 'Les organes internes qui entrent alors en exercice, ou qui
accroissent beaucoup leur action, n'ont besoin d'aucune
éducation; ils atteignent tout à coup une perfection à laquelle
ceux de la vie animale ne parviennent que par habitude d'agir
souvent.' _Bichat sur la Vie_, p. 231.
Thus it is, that although other causes conspire, it may be said that the
progressiveness of animal life is due to its intermittence; the
unprogressiveness of organic life to its continuity. It may, moreover,
be said, that the intermittence of the first life results from the
symmetry of its organs, while the continuity of the second life results
from their irregularity. To this wide and striking generalization, many
objections may be made, some of them apparently insuperable; but that it
contains the germs of great truths I entertain little doubt, and, at all
events, it is certain that the method cannot be too highly praised, for
it unites the study of function and structure with that of embryology,
of vegetable physiology, of the theory of comparison, and of the
influence of habit; a vast and magnificent field, which the genius of
Bichat was able to cover, but of which, since him, neither physiologists
nor metaphysicians have even attempted a general survey.
This stationary condition, during the present century, of a subject of
such intense interest, is a decisive proof of the extraordinary genius
of Bichat; since, notwithstanding the additions made to physiology, and
to every branch of physics connected with it, nothing has been done at
all comparable to that theory of life which he, with far inferior
resources, was able to construct. This stupendous work he left, indeed,
very imperfect; but even in its deficiencies we see the hand of the
great master, whom, on his own subject, no one has yet approached. His
essay on life may well be likened to those broken fragments of ancient
art, which, imperfect as they are, still bear the impress of the
inspiration which gave them birth, and present in each separate part
that unity of conception which to us makes them a complete and living
whole.
From the preceding summary of the progress of physical knowledge, the
reader may form some idea of the ability of those eminent men who arose
in France during the latter half of the eighteenth century. To complete
the picture, it is only necessary to examine what was done in the two
remaining branches of natural history, namely, botany and mineralogy, in
both of which the first great steps towards raising each study to a
science were taken by Frenchmen a few years before the Revolution.
In botany, although our knowledge of particular facts has, during the
last hundred years, rapidly increased,[1120] we are only possessed of
two generalizations wide enough to be called laws of nature. The first
generalization concerns the structure of plants; the other concerns
their physiology. That concerning their physiology is the beautiful
morphological law, according to which the different appearance of the
various organs arises from arrested development: the stamens, pistils,
corolla, calyx, and bracts being simple modifications or successive
stages of the leaf. This is one of many valuable discoveries we owe to
Germany; it being made by Göthe late in the eighteenth century.[1121]
With its importance every botanist is familiar; while to the historian
of the human mind it is peculiarly interesting, as strengthening that
great doctrine of development, towards which the highest branches of
knowledge are now hastening, and which, in the present century, has been
also carried into one of the most difficult departments of animal
physiology.[1122]
[1120] Dioscorides and Galen knew from 450 to 600 plants (_Winckler_,
_Geschichte der Botanik_, 1854, pp. 34, 40); but, according to
Cuvier (_Eloges_, vol. iii. p. 468), Linnæus, in 1778, 'en
indiquait environ huit mille espèces;' and Meyen (_Geog. of
Plants_, p. 4) says, at the time of Linnæus's death, 'about
8,000 species were known.' (Dr. Whewell, in his _Bridgewater
Treatise_, p. 247, says, 'about 10,000.') Since then the
progress has been uninterrupted; and in _Henslow's Botany_,
1837, p. 136, we are told that 'the number of species already
known and classified in works of botany amounts to about
60,000.' Ten years later, Dr. Lindley (_Vegetable Kingdom_,
1847, p. 800) states them at 92,930; and two years afterwards,
Mr. Balfour says 'about 100,000.' _Balfour's Botany_, 1849, p.
560. Such is the rate at which our knowledge of nature is
advancing. To complete this historical note, I ought to have
mentioned, that in 1812, Dr. Thomson says 'nearly 30,000 species
of plants have been examined and described.' _Thomson's Hist. of
the Royal Society_, p. 21.
[1121] It was published in 1790. _Winckler_, _Gesch. der Botanik_, p.
389. But the historians of botany have overlooked a short
passage in Göthe's works, which proves that he had glimpses of
the discovery in or before 1786. See _Italiänische Reise_, in
_Göthe's Werke_, vol. ii. part ii. p. 286, Stuttgart, 1837,
where he writes from Padua, in September 1786, 'Hier in dieser
neu mir entgegen tretenden Mannigfaltigkeit wird jener Gedanke
immer lebendiger: dass man sich alle Pflanzengestalten
vielleicht aus Einer entwickeln könne.' There are some
interesting remarks on this brilliant generalization in _Owen's
Parthenogenesis_, 1849, pp. 53 seq.
[1122] That is, into the study of animal monstrosities, which, however
capricious they may appear, are now understood to be the
necessary result of preceding events. Within the last thirty
years several of the laws of these unnatural births, as they
used to be called, have been discovered; and it has been proved
that, so far from being unnatural, they are strictly natural. A
fresh science has thus been created, under the name of
Teratology, which is destroying the old _lusus naturæ_ in one of
its last and favourite strongholds.
But the most comprehensive truth with which we are acquainted respecting
plants, is that which includes the whole of their general structure; and
this we learnt from those great Frenchmen who, in the latter half of the
eighteenth century, began to study the external world. The first steps
were taken directly after the middle of the century, by Adanson, Duhamel
de Monceau, and, above all, Desfontaines; three eminent thinkers, who
proved the practicability of a natural method hitherto unknown, and of
which even Ray himself had only a faint perception.[1123] This, by
weakening the influence of the artificial system of Linnæus,[1124]
prepared the way for an innovation more complete than has been effected
in any other branch of knowledge. In the very year in which the
Revolution occurred, Jussieu put forward a series of botanical
generalizations, of which the most important are all intimately
connected, and still remain the highest this department of inquiry has
reached.[1125] Among these, I need only mention the three vast
propositions which are now admitted to form the basis of vegetable
anatomy. The first is, that the vegetable kingdom, in its whole extent,
is composed of plants either with one cotyledon, or with two cotyledons,
or else with no cotyledon at all. The second proposition is, that this
classification, so far from being artificial, is strictly natural; since
it is a law of nature, that plants having one cotyledon are endogenous,
and grow by additions made to the centre of their stems, while, on the
other hand, plants having two cotyledons are exogenous, and are
compelled to grow by additions made, not to the centre of their stems,
but to the circumference.[1126] The third proposition is, that when
plants grow at their centre, the arrangement of the fruit and leaves is
threefold; when, however, they grow at the circumference, it is nearly
always fivefold.[1127]
[1123] Dr. Lindley (_Third Report of Brit. Assoc._ p. 33) says, that
Desfontaines was the first who demonstrated the opposite modes
of increase in dicotyledonous and monocotyledonous stems. See
also _Richard_, _Eléments de Botanique_, p. 131; and _Cuvier_,
_Eloges_, vol. i. p. 64. In regard to the steps taken by Adanson
and De Monceau, see _Winckler_, _Gesch. der Botanik_, pp. 204,
205; _Thomson's Chemistry of Vegetables_, p. 951; _Lindley's
Introduc. to Botany_, vol. ii. p. 132.
[1124] It is curious to observe how even good botanists clung to the
Linnæan system long after the superiority of a natural system
was proved. This is the more noticeable, because Linnæus, who
was a man of undoubted genius, and who possessed extraordinary
powers of combination, always allowed that his own system was
merely provisional, and that the great object to be attained was
a classification according to natural families. See _Winckler_,
_Geschichte der Botanik_, p. 202; and _Richard_, _Eléments de
Botanique_, p. 570. Indeed, what could be thought of the
permanent value of a scheme which put together the reed and the
barberry, because they were both hexandria; and forced sorrel to
associate with saffron, because both were trigynia? _Jussieu's
Botany_, 1849, p. 524.
[1125] _The Genera Plantarum_ of Antoine Jussieu was printed at Paris in
1789; and, though it is known to have been the result of many
years of continued labour, some writers have asserted that the
ideas in it were borrowed from his uncle, Bernard Jussieu. But
assertions of this kind rarely deserve attention; and as Bernard
did not choose to publish anything of his own, his reputation
ought to suffer for his uncommunicativeness. Compare _Winckler_,
_Gesch. der Botanik_, pp. 261-272, with _Biog. Univ._ vol. xxii.
pp. 162-166. I will only add the following remarks from a work
of authority, _Richard_, _Eléments de Botanique_, Paris, 1846,
p. 572: 'Mais ce ne fut qu'en 1789 que l'on eut véritablement un
ouvrage complet sur la méthode des familles naturelles. Le
_Genera Plantarum_ d'A. L. de Jussieu présenta la science des
végétaux sous un point de vue si nouveau, par la précision et
l'élégance qui y règnent, par la profondeur et la justesse des
principes généraux qui y sont exposés pour la première fois, que
c'est depuis cette époque seulement que la méthode des familles
naturelles a été véritablement créée, et que date la nouvelle
ère de la science des végétaux.... L'auteur du _Genera
Plantarum_ posa le premier les bases de la science, en faisant
voir quelle était l'importance relative des différents organes
entre eux, et par conséquent leur valeur dans la
classification.... Il a fait, selon la remarque de Cuvier, la
même révolution dans les sciences d'observation que la chimie de
Lavoisier dans les sciences d'expérience. En effet, il a non
seulement changé la face de la botanique; mais son influence
s'est également exercée sur les autres branches de l'histoire
naturelle, et y a introduit cet esprit de recherches, de
comparaison, et cette méthode philosophique et naturelle, vers
le perfectionnement de laquelle tendent désormais les efforts de
tous les naturalistes.'
[1126] Hence the removal of a great source of error; since it is now
understood that in dicotyledons alone can age be known with
certainty. _Henslow's Botany_, p. 243: compare _Richard_,
_Eléments de Botanique_, p. 159, aphorisme xxiv. On the stems of
endogenous plants, which, being mostly tropical, have been less
studied than the exogenous, see _Lindley's Botany_, vol. i. pp.
221-236; where there is also an account, pp. 229 seq., of the
views which Schleiden advanced on this subject in 1839.
[1127] On the arrangement of the leaves, now called phyllotaxis, see
_Balfour's Botany_, p. 92; _Burdach's Physiologie_, vol. v.
p. 518.
This is what was effected by the Frenchmen of the eighteenth century for
the vegetable kingdom:[1128] and if we now turn to the mineral kingdom,
we shall find that our obligations to them are equally great. The study
of minerals is the most imperfect of the three branches of natural
history, because, notwithstanding its apparent simplicity, and the
immense number of experiments which have been made, the true method of
investigation has not yet been ascertained; it being doubtful whether
mineralogy ought to be subordinated to the laws of chemistry, or to
those of crystallography, or whether both sets of laws will have to be
considered.[1129] At all events it is certain that, down to the present
time, chemistry has shown itself unable to reduce mineralogical
phenomena; nor has any chemist, possessing sufficient powers of
generalization, attempted the task except Berzelius; and most of his
conclusions were overthrown by the splendid discovery of isomorphism,
for which, as is well known, we are indebted to Mitscherlich, one of the
many great thinkers Germany has produced.[1130]
[1128] The classification by cotyledons has been so successful, that,
'with very few exceptions, however, nearly all plants may be
referred by any botanist, at a single glance, and with unerring
certainty, to their proper class; and a mere fragment even of
the stem, leaf, or some other part, is often quite sufficient to
enable him to decide this question.' _Henslow's Botany_, p. 30.
In regard to some difficulties still remaining in the way of the
threefold cotyledonous division of the whole vegetable world,
see _Lindley's Botany_, vol. ii. pp. 61 seq.
[1129] Mr. Swainson (_Study of Natural History_, p. 356) says
'mineralogy, indeed, which forms but a part of chemistry.' This
is deciding the question very rapidly; but in the meantime, what
becomes of the geometrical laws of minerals? and what are we to
do with that relation between their structure and optical
phenomena, which Sir David Brewster has worked out with signal
ability?
[1130] The difficulties introduced into the study of minerals by the
discovery of isomorphism and polymorphism, are no doubt
considerable; but M. Beudant (_Minéralogie_, Paris, 1841, p. 37)
seems to me to exaggerate their effect upon 'l'importance des
formes crystallines.' They are much more damaging to the purely
chemical arrangement, because our implements for measuring the
minute angles of crystals are still very imperfect, and the
goniometer may fail in detecting differences which really exist;
and, therefore, many alleged cases of isomorphism are probably
not so in reality. Wollaston's reflecting goniometer has been
long considered the best instrument possessed by
crystallographers; but I learn from _Liebig and Kopp's Reports_,
vol. i. pp. 19, 20, that Frankenheim has recently invented one
for measuring the angles of 'microscopic crystals.' On the
amount of error in the measurement of angles, see _Phillips's
Mineralogy_, 1837, p. viii.
Although the chemical department of mineralogy is in an unformed and
indeed anarchical condition, its other department, namely,
crystallography, has made great progress; and here again the earliest
steps were taken by two Frenchmen, who lived in the latter half of the
eighteenth century. About 1760, Romé De Lisle[1131] set the first
example of studying crystals, according to a scheme so large as to
include all the varieties of their primary forms, and to account for
their irregularities, and the apparent caprice with which they were
arranged. In this investigation he was guided by the fundamental
assumption, that what is called an irregularity, is in truth perfectly
regular, and that the operations of nature are invariable.[1132]
Scarcely had this great idea been applied to the almost innumerable
forms into which minerals crystallize, when it was followed up with
still larger resources by Haüy, another eminent Frenchman.[1133] This
remarkable man achieved a complete union between mineralogy and
geometry; and, bringing the laws of space to bear on the molecular
arrangements of matter, he was able to penetrate into the intimate
structure of crystals.[1134] By this means, he succeeded in proving that
the secondary forms of all crystals are derived from their primary forms
by a regular process of decrement;[1135] and that, when a substance is
passing from a liquid to a solid state, its particles are compelled to
cohere, according to a scheme which provides for every possible change,
since it includes even those subsequent layers which alter the ordinary
type of the crystal, by disturbing its natural symmetry.[1136] To
ascertain that such violations of symmetry are susceptible of
mathematical calculation, was to make a vast addition to our knowledge;
but what seems to me still more important is, that it indicates an
approach to the magnificent idea, that every thing which occurs is
regulated by law, and that confusion and disorder are impossible.[1137]
For, by proving that even the most uncouth and singular forms of
minerals are the natural results of their antecedents, Haüy laid the
foundation of what may be called the pathology of the inorganic world.
However paradoxical such a notion may seem, it is certain that symmetry
is to crystals what health is to animals; so that an irregularity of
shape in the first, corresponds with an appearance of disease in the
second.[1138] When, therefore, the minds of men became familiarized with
the great truth, that in the mineral kingdom there is, properly
speaking, no irregularity, it became more easy for them to grasp the
still higher truth, that the same principle holds good of the animal
kingdom, although, from the superior complexity of the phenomena, it
will be long before we can arrive at an equal demonstration. But, that
such a demonstration is possible, is the principle upon which the future
progress of all organic, and indeed of all mental science, depends. And
it is very observable, that the same generation which established the
fact, that the apparent aberrations presented by minerals are strictly
regular, also took the first steps towards establishing the far higher
fact, that the aberrations of the human mind are governed by laws as
unfailing as those which determine the condition of inert matter. The
examination of this would lead to a digression foreign to my present
design; but I may mention that, at the end of the century, there was
written in France the celebrated treatise on insanity, by Pinel; a work
remarkable in many respects, but chiefly in this, that in it the old
notions respecting the mysterious and inscrutable character of mental
disease are altogether discarded:[1139] the disease itself is considered
as a phenomenon inevitably occurring under certain given conditions, and
the foundation laid for supplying another link in that vast chain of
evidence which connects the material with the immaterial, and thus
uniting mind and matter into a single study, is now preparing the way
for some generalization, which, being common to both, shall serve as a
centre round which the disjointed fragments of our knowledge may safely
rally.
[1131] He says, 'depuis plus de vingt ans que je m'occupe de cet objet.'
_Romé de Lisle_, _Cristallographie, ou Description des Formes
propres à tous les Corps du Règne Minéral_, Paris, 1783, vol. i.
p. 91.
[1132] See his _Essai de Cristallographie_, Paris, 1772, p. x.: 'un de
ceux qui m'a le plus frappé ce sont les formes régulières et
constantes que prennent naturellement certains corps que nous
désignons par le nom de cristaux.' In the same work, p. 13: 'il
faut nécessairement supposer que les molécules intégrantes des
corps ont chacune, suivant qui lui est propre, une figure
constante et déterminée.' In his later treatise
(_Cristallographie_, 1783, vol. i. p. 70), after giving some
instances of the extraordinary complications presented by
minerals, he adds: 'Il n'est donc pas étonnant que d'habiles
chimistes n'aient rien vu de constant ni de déterminé dans les
formes cristallines, tandis qu'il n'en est aucune qu'on ne
puisse, avec un peu d'attention rapporter à la figure
élémentaire et primordiale dont elle dérive.' Even Buffon,
notwithstanding his fine perception of law, had just declared,
'qu'en général la forme de cristallisation n'est pas un
caractère constant, mais plus équivoque et plus variable
qu'aucun autre des caractères par lesquels on doit distinguer
les minéraux.' _De Lisle_, vol. i. p. xviii. Compare, on this
great achievement of De Lisle's, _Herschel's Nat. Philos._ p.
239: 'he first ascertained the important fact of the constancy
of the angles at which their faces meet.'
[1133] The first work of Haüy appeared in 1784 (_Quérard_, _France
Littéraire_, vol. iv. p. 41); but he had read two special
memoirs in 1781. _Cuvier_, _Eloges_, vol. iii. p. 138. The
intellectual relation between his views and those of his
predecessor must be obvious to every mineralogist; but Dr.
Whewell, who has noticed this judiciously enough, adds (_Hist.
of the Induc. Sciences_, vol. iii. pp. 229, 230): 'Unfortunately
Romé de Lisle and Haüy were not only rivals, but in some measure
enemies.... Haüy revenged himself by rarely mentioning Romé in
his works, though it was manifest that his obligations to him
were immense; and by recording his errors while he corrected
them.' The truth, however, is, that so far from rarely
mentioning De Lisle, he mentions him incessantly; and I have
counted upwards of three hundred instances in Haüy's great work,
in which he is named, and his writings are referred to. On one
occasion he says of De Lisle, 'En un mot, sa cristallographie
est le fruit d'un travail immense par son étendue, presque
entièrement neuf par son objet, et très-précieux par son
utilité.' _Haüy_, _Traité de Minéralogie_, Paris, 1801, vol. i.
p. 17. Elsewhere he calls him, 'cet habile naturaliste; ce
savant célèbre,' vol. ii. p. 323; 'ce célèbre naturaliste,' vol.
iii. p. 442; see also vol. iv. pp. 51, &c. In a work of so much
merit as Dr. Whewell's, it is important that these errors should
be indicated, because we have no other book of value on the
general history of the sciences; and many authors have deceived
themselves and their readers, by implicitly adopting the
statements of this able and industrious writer. I would
particularly caution the student in regard to the physiological
part of Dr. Whewell's History, where, for instance, the
antagonism between the methods of Cuvier and Bichat is entirely
lost sight of, and while whole pages are devoted to Cuvier,
Bichat is disposed of in four lines.
[1134] 'Haüy est donc le seul véritable auteur de la science
mathématique des cristaux.' _Cuvier_, _Progrès des Sciences_,
vol. i. p. 8; see also p. 317. Dr. Clarke, whose celebrated
lectures on mineralogy excited much attention among his hearers,
was indebted for some of his principal views to his
conversations with Haüy: see _Otter's Life of Clarke_, vol. ii.
p. 192.
[1135] See an admirable statement of the three forms of decrement, in
_Haüy_, _Traité de Minéralogie_, vol. i. pp. 285, 286. Compare
_Whewell's Hist. of the Induc. Sciences_, vol. iii. pp. 224,
225; who, however, does not mention Haüy's classification of
'décroissemens sur les bords,' 'décroissemens sur les angles,'
and 'décroissemens intermédiaires.'
[1136] And, as he clearly saw, the proper method was to study the laws
of symmetry, and then apply them deductively to minerals,
instead of rising inductively from the aberrations actually
presented by minerals. This is interesting to observe, because
it is analogous to the method of the best pathologists, who seek
the philosophy of their subject in physiological phenomena,
rather than in pathological ones; striking downwards from the
normal to the abnormal. '_La symétrie des formes_ sous
lesquelles se présentent les solides que nous avons considérés
jusqu'ici, _nous a fourni des données_ pour exprimer les lois de
décroissemens dont ces solides sont susceptibles.' _Haüy_,
_Traité de Minéralogie_, vol. i. p. 442; compare vol. ii.
p. 192.
[1137] 'Un coup d'[oe]il peu attentif, jeté sur les cristaux, les fit
appeler d'abord de _purs jeux de la nature_, ce qui n'étoit
qu'une manière plus élégante de faire l'aveu de son ignorance.
Un examen réfléchi nous y découvre des lois d'arrangement, à
l'aide desquelles le calcul représente et enchaîne l'un à
l'autre les résultats observés; lois si variables et en même
temps si précises et si régulières; ordinairement très-simples,
sans rien perdre de leur fécondité.' _Haüy_, _Minéralogie_, vol.
i. pp. xiii. xiv. Again, vol. ii. p. 57, 'notre but, qui est de
prouver que les lois d'où dépend la structure du cristal sont
les plus simples possibles dans leur ensemble.'
[1138] On the remarkable power possessed by crystals, in common with
animals, of repairing their own injuries, see _Paget's
Pathology_, 1853, vol. i. pp. 152, 153, confirming the
experiments of Jordan on this curious subject: 'The ability to
repair the damages sustained by injury ... is not an exclusive
property of living beings; for even crystals will repair
themselves when, after pieces have been broken from them, they
are placed in the same conditions in which they were first
formed.'
[1139] 'M. Pinel a imprimé une marche nouvelle à l'étude de la folie....
En la rangeant simplement, et sans différences aucunes, au
nombre des autres dérangemens de nos organes, en lui assignant
une place dans le cadre nosographique, il fit faire un pas
immense à son histoire.' _Georget_, _de la Folie_, Paris, 1820,
p. 69. In the same work, p. 295, 'M. Pinel, le premier en
France, on pourrait dire en Europe, jeta les fondemens d'un
traitement vraiment rationnel en rangeant la folie au nombre des
autres affections organiques.' M. Esquirol, who expresses the
modern and purely scientific view, says in his great work (_Des
Maladies Mentaes_, Paris, 1838, vol. i. p. 336), 'L'aliénation
mentale, que les anciens peuples regardaient comme une
inspiration ou une punition des dieux, qui dans la suite fut
prise pour la possession des démons, qui dans d'autres temps
passa pour une [oe]uvre de la magie; l'aliénation mentale,
dis-je, avec toutes ses espèces et ses variétés innombrables, ne
diffère en rien des autres maladies.' The recognition of this he
expressly ascribes to his predecessor: 'grâce aux principes
exposés par Pinel.' p. 340. Pinel himself clearly saw the
connexion between his own opinions and the spirit of the age:
see _Pinel_, _Traité Médico-Philosophique sur l'Aliénation
Mentale_, p. xxxii.: 'Un ouvrage de médecine, publié en France à
la fin du dix-huitième siècle, doit avoir un autre caractère que
s'il avoit été écrit à une époque antérieure.'
These were the views which, during the latter half of the eighteenth
century, began to dawn upon French thinkers. The extraordinary ability
and success with which these eminent men cultivated their respective
sciences, I have traced at a length greater that I had intended, but
still very inadequate to the importance of the subject. Enough, however,
has been brought forward, to convince the reader of the truth of the
proposition I wished to prove; namely, that the intellect of France was,
during the latter half of the eighteenth century, concentrated upon the
external world with unprecedented zeal, and thus aided that vast
movement, of which the Revolution itself was merely a single
consequence. The intimate connexion between scientific progress and
social rebellion, is evident from the fact, that both are suggested by
the same yearning after improvement, the same dissatisfaction with what
has been previously done, the same restless, prying, insubordinate, and
audacious spirit. But in France this general analogy was strengthened by
the curious circumstances I have already noticed, by virtue of which,
the activity of the country was, during the first half of the century,
directed against the church rather than against the state; so that in
order to complete the antecedents of the Revolution, it was necessary
that, in the latter half of the century, the ground of attack should be
shifted. This is precisely what was done by the wonderful impetus given
to every branch of natural science. For, the attention of men being thus
steadily fixed upon the external world, the internal fell into neglect;
while, as the external corresponds to the state, and the internal to the
church, it was part of the same intellectual development, that the
assailers of the existing fabric should turn against political abuses
the energy which the preceding generation had reserved for religious
ones.
Thus it was that the French Revolution, like every great revolution the
world has yet seen, was preceded by a complete change in the habits and
associations of the national intellect. But besides this, there was also
taking place, precisely at the same time, a vast social movement, which
was intimately connected with the intellectual movement, and indeed
formed part of it, in so far as it was followed by similar results and
produced by similar causes. The nature of this social revolution I
shall examine only very briefly, because in a future volume it will be
necessary to trace its history minutely, in order to illustrate the
slighter but still remarkable changes which in the same period were
going on in English society.
In France, before the Revolution, the people, though always very social,
were also very exclusive. The upper classes, protected by an imaginary
superiority, looked with scorn upon those whose birth or titles were
unequal to their own. The class immediately below them copied and
communicated their example, and every order in society endeavoured to
find some fanciful distinction which should guard them from the
contamination of their inferiors. The only three real sources of
superiority,--the superiority of morals, of intellect, and of
knowledge,--were entirely overlooked in this absurd scheme; and men
became accustomed to pride themselves not on any essential difference,
but on those inferior matters, which, with extremely few exceptions, are
the result of accident, and therefore no test of merit.[1140]
[1140] Comp. _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 23, with the Introduction to
_Des Réaux_, _Historiettes_, vol. i. p. 34. A good illustration
of this is, that the Prince de Montbarey, in his Memoirs, gently
censures Louis XV., not for his scandalous profligacy, but
because he selected for his mistresses some women who were not
of high birth. _Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. i. p. 341, and see
vol. iii. p. 117.
The first great blow to this state of things, was the unprecedented
impulse given to the cultivation of physical science. Those vast
discoveries which were being made, not only stimulated the intellect of
thinking men, but even roused the curiosity of the more thoughtless
parts of society. The lectures of chemists, of geologists, of
mineralogists, and of physiologists, were attended by those who came to
wonder, as well as by those who came to learn. In Paris, the scientific
assemblages were crowded to overflowing.[1141] The halls and
amphitheatres in which the great truths of nature were expounded, were
no longer able to hold their audience, and in several instances it was
found necessary to enlarge them.[1142] The sittings of the Academy,
instead of being confined to a few solitary scholars, were frequented by
every one whose rank or influence enabled them to secure a place.[1143]
Even women of fashion, forgetting their usual frivolity, hastened to
hear discussions on the composition of a mineral, on the discovery of a
new salt, on the structure of plants, on the organization of animals, on
the properties of the electric fluid.[1144] A sudden craving after
knowledge seemed to have smitten every rank. The largest and the most
difficult inquiries found favour in the eyes of those whose fathers had
hardly heard the names of the sciences to which they belonged. The
brilliant imagination of Buffon made geology suddenly popular; the same
thing was effected for chemistry by the eloquence of Fourcroy, and for
electricity by Nollet; while the admirable expositions of Lalande caused
astronomy itself to be generally cultivated. In a word, it is enough to
say, that during the thirty years preceding the Revolution, the spread
of physical science was so rapid, that in its favour the old classical
studies were despised;[1145] it was considered the essential basis of a
good education, and some slight acquaintance with it was deemed
necessary for every class, except those who were obliged to support
themselves by their daily labour.[1146]
[1141] And that too even on such a subject as anatomy. In 1768, Antoine
Petit began his anatomical lectures in the great amphitheatre of
the Jardin du Roi; and the press to hear him was so great, that
not only all the seats were occupied, but the very window-ledges
were crowded. See the animated description in _Biog. Univ._
vol. xxxiii. p. 494.
[1142] Dr. Thomson (_History of Chemistry_, vol. ii. p. 169) says of
Fourcroy's lectures on chemistry, which began in 1784: 'Such
were the crowds, both of men and women, who flocked to hear him,
that it was twice necessary to enlarge the size of the
lecture-room.' This circumstance is also mentioned in _Cuvier_,
_Eloges_, vol. ii. p. 19.
[1143] In 1779, it was remarked that 'les séances publiques de
l'Académie Française sont devenues une espèce de spectacle fort
à la mode:' and as this continued to increase, the throng became
at length so great, that in 1785 it was found necessary to
diminish the number of tickets of admission, and it was even
proposed that ladies should be excluded, in consequence of some
uproarious scenes which had happened. _Grimm et Diderot_,
_Correspond. Lit._ vol. x. p. 341, vol. xiv. pp. 148, 149, 185,
251.
[1144] Goldsmith, who was in Paris in 1755, says with surprise, 'I have
seen as bright a circle of beauty at the chemical lectures of
Rouelle, as gracing the court of Versailles.' _Prior's Life of
Goldsmith_, vol. i. p. 180; _Forster's Life of Goldsmith_, vol.
i. p. 65. In the middle of the century, electricity was very
popular among the Parisian ladies; and the interest felt in it
was revived several years later by Franklin. Compare _Grimm_,
_Correspondance_, vol. vii. p. 122, with _Tucker's Life of
Jefferson_, vol. i. pp. 190, 191. Cuvier (_Eloges_, vol. i. p.
56) tells us that even the anatomical descriptions which
Daubenton wrote for Buffon were to be found 'sur la toilette des
femmes.' This change of taste is also noticed, though in a
jeering spirit, in _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. vi. p. 32. Compare the
account given by Townsend, who visited France in 1786, on his
way to Spain: 'A numerous society of gentlemen and ladies of the
first fashion meet to hear lectures on the sciences, delivered
by men of the highest rank in their profession.... I was much
struck with the fluency and elegance of language with which the
anatomical professor spoke, and not a little so with the deep
attention of his auditors.' _Townsend's Journey through Spain_,
vol. i. p. 41: see also _Smith's Tour on the Continent in 1786_,
vol. i. p. 117.
[1145] In a letter written in 1756, it is said, 'Mais c'est peine perdue
aujourd'hui que de plaisanter les érudits; il n'y en a plus en
France.' _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. ii. p. 15. In 1764, 'Il est
honteux et incroyable à quel point l'étude des anciens est
négligée.' vol. iv. p. 97. In 1768, 'Une autre raison qui rendra
les traductions des auteurs anciens de plus en plus rares en
France, c'est que depuis long temps on n'y sait plus le Grec, et
qu'on néglige l'étude du Latin tous les jours davantage.' vol.
vi. p. 140. Sherlock (_New Letters from an English Traveller_,
London, 1781, p. 86) says, 'It is very rare to meet a man in
France that understands Greek.' In 1785, Jefferson writes from
Paris to Madison, 'Greek and Roman authors are dearer here than,
I believe, any where in the world; nobody here reads them,
wherefore they are not reprinted.' _Jefferson's Correspond._
vol. i. p. 301. See further, on this neglect of the ancients, a
significant precursor of the Revolution, _Mém. de Montbarey_,
vol. iii. p. 181; _Villemain_, _Littérature au XVIII^e Siècle_,
vol. iii. pp. 243-248; _Schlosser's Eighteenth Century_, vol. i.
p. 344.
[1146] For further evidence of the popularity of physical knowledge, and
of its study, even by those who might have been expected to
neglect it, see _Mém. de Roland_, vol. i. pp. 115, 268, 324,
343; _Mém. de Morellet_, vol. i. p. 16; _Dupont de Nemours_,
_Mém. sur Turgot_, pp. 45, 52, 53, 411; _Mém. de Brissot_, vol.
i. pp. 62, 151, 319, 336, 338, 357; _Cuvier_, _Progrès des
Sciences_, vol. i. p. 89.
The results produced by this remarkable change are very curious, and
from their energy and rapidity were very decisive. As long as the
different classes confined themselves to pursuits peculiar to their own
sphere, they were encouraged to preserve their separate habits; and the
subordination, or, as it were, the hierarchy, of society was easily
maintained. But when the members of the various orders met in the same
place with the same object, they became knit together by a new sympathy.
The highest and most durable of all pleasures, the pleasure caused by
the perception of fresh truths, was now a great link, which banded
together those social elements that were formerly wrapped up in the
pride of their own isolation. Besides this, there was also given to them
not only a new pursuit, but also a new standard of merit. In the
amphitheatre and the lecture-room, the first object of attention is the
professor and the lecturer. The division is between those who teach and
those who learn. The subordination of ranks makes way for the
subordination of knowledge.[1147] The petty and conventional
distinctions of fashionable life are succeeded by those large and
genuine distinctions, by which alone man is really separated from man.
The progress of the intellect supplies a new object of veneration; the
old worship of rank is rudely disturbed, and its superstitious devotees
are taught to bow the knee before what to them is the shrine of a
strange god. The hall of science is the temple of democracy. Those who
come to learn, confess their own ignorance, abrogate in some degree
their own superiority, and begin to perceive that the greatness of men
has no connexion with the splendour of their titles, or the dignity of
their birth; that it is not concerned with their quarterings, their
escutcheons, their descents, their dexter-chiefs, their sinister-chiefs,
their chevrons, their bends, their azures, their gules, and the other
trumperies of their heraldry; but that it depends upon the largeness of
their minds, the powers of their intellect, and the fullness of their
knowledge.
[1147] A celebrated writer has well said, though in a somewhat different
point of view, 'Il ne peut y avoir dans les sciences morales,
pas plus que dans les sciences physiques, ni maîtres, ni
esclaves, ni rois, ni sujets, ni citoyens, ni étrangers.'
_Comte_, _Traité de Législation_, vol. i. p. 43.
These were the views which, in the latter half of the eighteenth
century, began to influence those classes which had long been the
undisputed masters of society.[1148] And what shows the strength of this
great movement is, that it was accompanied by other social changes,
which, though in themselves apparently trifling, become full of meaning
when taken in connexion with the general history of the time.
[1148] The remarks which Thomas made upon Descartes in 1765, in an
_éloge_ crowned by the Academy, illustrate the opinions which,
in the latter half of the eighteenth century, were becoming
rapidly diffused in France. See the passage beginning 'O
préjugés! ô ridicule fierté des places et du rang!' &c.
_[OE]uvres de Descartes_, vol. i. p. 74. Certainly no one would
have used such language, on such an occasion, thirty years
earlier. So, too, the Count de Ségur says of the younger nobles
before the Revolution, 'nous préférions un mot d'éloges de
D'Alembert, de Diderot, à la faveur la plus signalée d'un
prince.' _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 142: see also vol. ii. p.
46.
While the immense progress of physical knowledge was revolutionizing
society, by inspiring the different classes with an object common to
all, and thus raising a new standard of merit, a more trivial, but
equally democratic tendency was observable even in the conventional
forms of social life. To describe the whole of these changes would
occupy a space disproportioned to the other parts of this Introduction;
but it is certain that, until the changes have been carefully examined,
it will be impossible for any one to write a history of the French
Revolution. As a specimen of what I mean, I will notice two of these
innovations which are very conspicuous, and are also interesting on
account of their analogy with what has happened in English society.
The first of these changes was an alteration in dress, and a marked
contempt for those external appearances hitherto valued as one of the
most important of all matters. During the reign of Louis XIV., and
indeed during the first half of the reign of Louis XV., not only men of
frivolous tastes, but even those distinguished for their knowledge,
displayed in their attire a dainty precision, a nice and studied
adjustment, a pomp of gold, of silver, and of ruffles, such as in our
days can nowhere be seen, except in the courts of European princes,
where a certain barbarian splendour is still retained. So far was this
carried, that in the seventeenth century the rank of a person might be
immediately known by his appearance; no one presuming to usurp a garb
worn by the class immediately above his own.[1149] But in that
democratic movement which preceded the French Revolution, the minds of
men became too earnest, too intent upon higher matters, to busy
themselves with those idle devices which engrossed the attention of
their fathers. A contemptuous disregard of such distinctions became
general. In Paris the innovation was seen even in those gay assemblies,
where a certain amount of personal decoration is still considered
natural. At dinners, suppers, and balls, it is noticed by contemporary
observers, that the dress usually worn was becoming so simple as to
cause a confusion of ranks, until at length every distinction was
abandoned by both sexes; the men, on such occasions, coming in a common
frock-coat, the women in their ordinary morning gowns.[1150] Nay, to
such a pitch was this carried, that we are assured by the Prince de
Montbarey, who was in Paris at the time, that shortly before the
Revolution, even those who had stars and orders were careful to hide
them by buttoning their coats, so that these marks of superiority might
no longer be seen.[1151]
[1149] Among many other illustrations which might be given of this
distinction of classes by dress, see _Monteil_, _Hist. des
divers Etats_, vol. vii. pp. 7-10; and _Tallemant des Réaux_,
_Historiettes_, vol. i. p. 36 note.
[1150] In August 1787, Jefferson writes from Paris (_Correspondence_,
vol. ii. p. 224): 'In society, the _habit habillé_ is almost
banished, and they begin to go even to great suppers in frock:
the court and diplomatic corps, however, must always be
excepted. They are too high to be reached by any improvement.
They are the last refuge from which etiquette, formality, and
folly will be driven. Take away these, and they would be on a
level with other people.' Jefferson was a statesman and a
diplomatist, and was well acquainted with his profession. The
change, however, which he noticed, had been coming on some years
earlier. In a letter written in May 1786, it is said: 'Il est
rare aujourd'hui de rencontrer dans le monde des personnes qui
soient ce qu'on appelle habillées. Lee femmes sont en chemise et
en chapeau, les hommes en froc et en gilet.' _Grimm_,
_Correspond._ vol. xiv. p. 485; and on the increased simplicity
of attire in 1780, see vol. xi. pp. 141, 142. Ségur, who
witnessed these changes, and was much displeased by them, says
of their advocates, 'ils ne voyaient pas que les frocs,
remplaçant les amples et imposans vêtemens de l'ancienne cour,
présagaient un penchant général pour l'égalité.' _Mém. de
Ségur_, vol. i. p. 131. Soulavie (_Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. vi.
p. 38) observes, that 'les grands, vers les approches de la
révolution, n'avoient plus que des habits simples et peu
coûteux;' and that 'on ne distingua plus une duchesse d'une
actrice,' p. 43: see also an extract from Montjoye, in _Alison's
History_, vol. i. pp. 352, 353. Compare _Mém. sur
Marie-Antoinette_, vol. i. pp. 226, 372, vol. ii. p. 174, and
_Mém. de Madame au Hausset_, introduc. p. 17.
[1151] 'Les personnes du premier rang et même d'un âge mûr, qui avaient
travaillé toute leur vie pour obtenir les ordres du roi, preuve
de la plus haute faveur, s'habituèrent à en cacher les marques
distinctives sous le froc le plus simple, qui leur permettait de
courir à pied dans les rues et de se confondre dans la foule.'
_Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. iii. pp. 161, 162. Another alteration
of the same tendency is worth recording. The Baroness
d'Oberkirch, who revisited Paris in 1784, remarked, on her
arrival, that 'gentlemen began about this time to go about
unarmed, and wore swords only in full dress.... And thus the
French nobility laid aside a usage which the example of their
fathers had consecrated through centuries.' _D'Oberkirch's
Memoirs_, Lond. 1852, vol. ii. p. 211.
The other innovation to which I have referred is equally interesting as
characteristic of the spirit of the time. This is, that the tendency to
amalgamate the different orders of society[1152] was shown in the
institution of clubs; a remarkable contrivance, which to us seems
perfectly natural because we are accustomed to it, but of which it may
be truly said, that until the eighteenth century its existence was
impossible. Before the eighteenth century, each class was so jealous of
its superiority over the one below it, that to meet together on equal
terms was impracticable; and although a certain patronizing familiarity
towards one's inferiors might be safely indulged in, this only marked
the immense interval of separation, since the great man had no fear of
his condescension being abused. In those good old times a proper respect
was paid to rank and birth; and he who could count his twenty ancestors
was venerated to an extent of which we, in these degenerate days, can
hardly form an idea. As to any thing like social equality, that was a
notion too preposterous to be conceived; nor was it possible that any
institution should exist which placed mere ordinary men on a level with
those illustrious characters, whose veins were filled with the purest
blood, and the quarterings of whose arms none could hope to rival.
[1152] A striking instance of which was, moreover, seen in the number of
_mésalliances_, which first became frequent about the middle of
the reign of Louis XV. Compare _Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. iii.
pp. 116, 156, 157; _Lacretelle_, _Dix-huitième Siècle_,
vol. iii. p. 220.
But in the eighteenth century the progress of knowledge became so
remarkable, that the new principle of intellectual superiority made
rapid encroachments on the old principle of aristocratic superiority. As
soon as these encroachments had reached a certain point, they gave rise
to an institution suited to them; and thus it was that there were first
established clubs, in which all the educated classes could assemble,
without regard to those other differences which, in the preceding
period, kept them separate. The peculiarity of this was, that, for mere
purposes of social enjoyment, men were brought into contact, who,
according to the aristocratic scheme, had nothing in common, but who
were now placed on the same footing in so far as they belonged to the
same establishment, conformed to the same rules, and reaped the same
advantages. It was, however, expected that the members, though varying
in many other respects, were to be all, in some degree, educated; and in
this way society first distinctly recognized a classification previously
unknown; the division between noble and ignoble being succeeded by
another division between educated and uneducated.
The rise and growth of clubs is, therefore, to the philosophic observer,
a question of immense importance; and it is one which, as I shall
hereafter prove, played a great part in the history of England during
the latter half of the eighteenth century. In reference to our present
subject, it is interesting to observe, that the first clubs, in the
modern sense of the word, which ever existed in Paris, were formed about
1782, only seven years before the French Revolution. At the beginning
they were merely intended to be social assemblages; but they quickly
assumed a democratic character, conformable to the spirit of the age.
Their first result, as was noticed by a keen observer of what was then
passing, was to make the manners of the upper classes more simple than
they had hitherto been, and to weaken that love of form and ceremony
suitable to their earlier habits. These clubs likewise effected a
remarkable separation between the sexes; and it is recorded, that after
their establishment, women associated more with each other, and were
oftener seen in public unaccompanied by men.[1153] This had the effect
of encouraging among men a republican roughness, which the influence of
the other sex would have tended to keep down. All these things effaced
the old lines of demarcation between the different ranks, and by
merging the various classes into one, made the force of their united
opposition irresistible, and speedily overthrew both the church and the
state. The exact period at which the clubs became political cannot, of
course, be ascertained, but the change seems to have taken place about
1784.[1154] From this moment all was over; and although the government,
in 1787, issued orders to close the leading club, in which all classes
discussed political questions, it was found impossible to stem the
current. The order, therefore, was rescinded; the club re-assembled, and
no further attempt was made to interrupt that course of affairs which a
long train of preceding events had rendered inevitable.[1155]
[1153] 'Nous commençâmes aussi à avoir des clubs: les hommes s'y
réunissaient, non encore pour discuter, mais pour dîner, jouer
au wisk, et lire tous les ouvrages nouveaux. Ce premier pas,
alors presque inaperçu, eut dans la suite de grandes, et
momentanément de funestes conséquences. Dans le commencement,
son premier résultat fut de séparer les hommes des femmes, et
d'apporter ainsi un notable changement dans nos m[oe]urs: elles
devinrent moins frivoles, mais moins polies; plus fortes, mais
moins aimables: la politique y gagna, la société y perdit.'
_Mém. de Ségur_, vol. ii. p. 28. By the spring of 1786, this
separation of the sexes had become still more marked; and it was
a common complaint, that ladies were obliged to go to the
theatre alone, men being at their clubs. See the very curious
observations in _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. xiv. pp. 486-489,
where there is also a notice of 'le prodigieux succès qu'a eu
l'établissement des clubs à l'anglaise.' See also, on the
diminished attention paid to women, _Williams's Letters from
France_, vol. ii. p. 80; 3rd edit. 1796.
[1154] The remarks of Georgel appear to apply to the political clubs
only: 'A Paris les assemblées de nouvellistes, les clubs qui
s'étoient formés à l'instar de ceux des Anglais, s'expliquaient
hautement et sans retenue sur les droits de l'homme, sur les
avantages de la liberté, sur les grands abus de l'inégalité des
conditions. Ces clubs, trop accrédités, avoient commencé à se
former en 1784.' _Mém. de Georgel_, vol. ii. p. 310.
[1155] 'Le lieutenant de police fit fermer le club nommé _Club du
Salon_; ordre arbitraire et inutile: ce club alors était composé
de personnes distinguées de la noblesse ou de la haute
bourgeoisie, ainsi que des artistes et des hommes de lettres les
plus considérés. Cette réunion offrait, pour la première fois,
l'image d'une égalité qui devient bientôt, plus que la liberté
même, le v[oe]u le plus ardent de la plus grande partie de la
nation. Aussi le mécontentement produit par la clôture de ce
club fut si vif, que l'autorité se crut obligée de la rouvrir.'
_Mém. de Ségur_, vol. iii. pp. 258, 259. On the increase of
these clubs from 1787 to 1789, compare _Du Mesnil_, _Mém. sur Le
Brun_, p. 148; _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. i. pp. 312, 322, 391,
434, vol. ii. p. 9; _Barruel_, _Hist. du Jacob._ vol. i. p. 40,
vol. ii. p. 310, vol. v. pp. 101, 168; _Thiers_, _Hist. de la
Révolution_, vol. i. p. 36, Paris, 1834.
While all these things were conspiring to overthrow the old
institutions, an event suddenly occurred which produced the most
remarkable effects in France, and is itself strikingly characteristic of
the spirit of the eighteenth century. On the other side of the Atlantic,
a great people, provoked by the intolerable injustice of the English
government, rose in arms, turned on their oppressors, and, after a
desperate struggle, gloriously obtained their independence. In 1776,
the Americans laid before Europe that noble Declaration, which ought to
be hung up in the nursery of every king, and blazoned on the porch of
every royal palace. In words, the memory of which can never die, they
declared, that the object of the institution of government is to secure
the rights of the people; that from the people alone it derives its
powers; and 'that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of
these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to
institute a new government, laying its foundations on such principles,
and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most
likely to effect their safety and happiness.'[1156]
[1156] _Mem. of Franklin_, vol. ii. pp. 14 seq.; and _Mem. of
Jefferson_, vol. i. pp. 17-22, where the passages are given
which Congress altered.
If this declaration had been made only one generation earlier, the whole
of France, with the exception of a few advanced thinkers, would have
rejected it with horror and with scorn. Such, however, was now the
temper of the public mind, that the doctrines it contained were not
merely welcomed by a majority of the French nation, but even the
government itself was unable to withstand the general feeling.[1157] In
1776, Franklin arrived in France, as envoy from the American people. He
met with the warmest reception from all classes,[1158] and succeeded in
inducing the government to sign a treaty, engaging to defend the young
republic in the rights it had gloriously won.[1159] In Paris, the
enthusiasm was irresistible.[1160] From every quarter large bodies of
men came forward, volunteering to cross the Atlantic and to fight for
the liberties of America. The heroism with which these auxiliaries aided
the noble struggle, forms a cheering passage in the history of that
time; but is foreign to my present purpose, which is merely to notice
its effect in hastening the approach of the French Revolution. And this
effect was indeed most remarkable. Besides the indirect result produced
by the example of a successful rebellion, the French were still further
stimulated by actual contact with their new allies. The French officers
and soldiers who served in America, introduced into their own country,
on their return, those democratic opinions which they had imbibed in the
infant republic.[1161] By this means, fresh strength was given to the
revolutionary tendencies already prevalent; and it is worthy of remark,
that Lafayette borrowed from the same source one of his most celebrated
acts. He drew his sword on behalf of the Americans; and they, in their
turn, communicated to him that famous doctrine respecting the rights of
man, which, at his instigation, was formally adopted by the National
Assembly.[1162] Indeed, there is reason to believe, that the final blow
the French government received was actually dealt by the hand of an
American; for it is said that it was in consequence of the advice of
Jefferson, that the popular part of the legislative body proclaimed
itself the National Assembly, and thus set the crown at open
defiance.[1163]
[1157] Ségur (_Mém._ vol. i. p. 111) says that his father had been
frequently told by Maurepas that public opinion forced the
government, against its own wishes, to side with America.
Compare _Mém. de Georgel_, vol. iv. p. 370; and _Flassan_,
_Diplomatie Française_, vol. vii. p. 166.
[1158] The news of which soon reached England. In January 1777, Burke
writes (_Works_, vol. ii. p. 394), 'I hear that Dr. Franklin has
had a most extraordinary reception at Paris from all ranks of
people.' Soulavie (_Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. ii. p. 50) says,
'J'ai vu Francklin devenir un objet de culte.' See also, on his
popularity, _Mém. d'Epinay_, vol. iii. p. 419.
[1159] _Flassan_, _Diplomatie Française_, vol. vii. p. 159; _Life of
Franklin_, _by Himself_, vol. ii. pp. 60, 61; _Mahon's Hist. of
England_, vol. vii. pp. 197, 198.
[1160] The sneering letter written from Paris by Lord Stormont, as early
as December 1774 (_Adolphus's George III._ vol. ii. p. 316),
should be compared with _Lafayette_, _Mémoires_, vol. i. pp. 24,
169, 229; _Dutens_, _Mém. d'un Voyageur_, vol. ii. p. 317; _Mém.
de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 149; and _Schlosser's Eighteenth Century_,
vol. v. p. 175.
[1161] _De Staël sur la Révolution_, vol. i. p. 88; _Mém. de Montbarey_,
vol. iii. pp. 134, 186; _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 277;
_Campan_, _Mém. de Marie Antoinette_, vol. i. p. 233, vol. iii.
pp. 96, 116; _Soulavie_, _Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. ii. pp.
xxiv. li. iii.; _Dumont_, _Souvenirs sur Mirabeau_, p. 176;
_Mém. de Du Hausset_, introduc. p. 40; _Mém. de Genlis_, vol.
vi. p. 57; _Jefferson's Mem. and Correspond._ vol. i. p. 59; and
Maitland's speech, in _Parl. Hist._ vol. xxx. pp. 198, 199; also
the remarks of the Duke of Bedford, vol. xxxi. p. 663.
[1162] _Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. i. p. 46. Dumont
(_Souvenirs_, p. 97) calls this 'une idée américaine;' and see
to the same effect, _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. i. pp. 193, 268,
269, 416, vol. ii. pp. 139, 140; _Jefferson's Correspond._ vol.
i. p. 90; _Barruel_, _Hist. du Jacobinisme_, vol. v. p. 311. The
influence which the American Revolution exercised over the mind
of Lafayette is noticed by Bouillé, his cousin and his enemy.
_Mém. de Bouillé_, vol. i. p. 102, vol. ii. pp. 131, 183.
[1163] 'The Duke of Dorset, the English ambassador, writing to Mr. Pitt
from Paris, July 9th, 1789, said, "Mr. Jefferson, the American
minister at this court, has been a great deal consulted by the
principal leaders of the _tiers état_; and I have great reason
to think that it was owing to his advice that order called
itself _L'Assemblée Nationale_."' _Tomline's Life of Pitt_,
vol. ii. p. 266.
I have now brought to a close my examination of the causes of the French
Revolution; but before concluding the present chapter, it appears to me
that the variety of topics which have been discussed, makes it advisable
that I should sum up their leading points; and should state, as briefly
as possible, the steps of that long and complicated argument, by which I
have attempted to prove, that the Revolution was an event inevitably
arising out of preceding circumstances. Such a summary, by recalling the
entire subject before the reader, will remedy any confusion which the
fullness of detail may have produced, and will simplify an investigation
which many will consider to have been needlessly protracted; but which
could not have been abridged without weakening, in some essential part,
the support of those general principles that I seek to establish.
Looking at the state of France immediately after the death of Louis
XIV., we have seen that, his policy having reduced the country to the
brink of ruin, and having destroyed every vestige of free inquiry, a
reaction became necessary; but that the materials for the reaction could
not be found among a nation, which for fifty years had been exposed to
so debilitating a system. This deficiency at home, caused the most
eminent Frenchmen to turn their attention abroad, and gave rise to a
sudden admiration for the English literature, and for those habits of
thought which were then peculiar to the English people. New life being
thus breathed into the wasted frame of French society, an eager and
inquisitive spirit was generated, such as had not been seen since the
time of Descartes. The upper classes, taking offence at this unexpected
movement, attempted to stifle it, and made strenuous efforts to destroy
that love of inquiry which was daily gaining ground. To effect their
object, they persecuted literary men with such bitterness, as to make it
evident that the intellect of France must either relapse into its former
servility, or else boldly assume the offensive. Happily for the
interests of civilization, the latter alternative was adopted; and, in
or about 1750, a deadly struggle began, in which those principles of
liberty which France borrowed from England, and which had hitherto been
supposed only applicable to the church, were for the first time applied
to the state. Coinciding with this movement, and indeed forming part of
it, other circumstances occurred of the same character. Now it was that
the political economists succeeded in proving that the interference of
the governing classes had inflicted great mischief even upon the
material interests of the country; and had, by their protective
measures, injured what they were believed to have benefited. This
remarkable discovery in favour of general freedom, put a fresh weapon
into the hands of the democratic party; whose strength was still further
increased by the unrivalled eloquence with which Rousseau assailed the
existing fabric. Precisely the same tendency was exhibited in the
extraordinary impulse given to every branch of physical science, which
familiarized men with ideas of progress, and brought them into collision
with the stationary and conservative ideas natural to government. The
discoveries made respecting the external world, encouraged a
restlessness and excitement of mind hostile to the spirit of routine,
and therefore full of danger for institutions only recommended by their
antiquity. This eagerness for physical knowledge also effected a change
in education; and the ancient languages being neglected, another link
was severed which connected the present with the past. The church, the
legitimate protector of old opinions, was unable to resist the passion
for novelty, because she was weakened by treason in her own camp. For by
this time, Calvinism had spread so much among the French clergy, as to
break them into two hostile parties, and render it impossible to rally
them against their common foe. The growth of this heresy was also
important, because Calvinism being essentially democratic, a
revolutionary spirit appeared even in the ecclesiastical profession, so
that the feud in the church was accompanied by another feud between the
government and the church. These were the leading symptoms of that vast
movement which culminated in the French Revolution; and all of them
indicated a state of society so anarchical and so thoroughly
disorganized, as to make it certain that some great catastrophe was
impending. At length, and when everything was ready for explosion, the
news of the American Rebellion fell like a spark on the inflammatory
mass, and ignited a flame which never ceased its ravages until it had
destroyed all that Frenchmen once held dear, and had left for the
instruction of mankind an awful lesson of the crimes into which
continued oppression may hurry a generous and long-suffering people.
Such is a rapid outline of the view which my studies have led me to take
of the causes of the French Revolution. That I have ascertained all the
causes, I do not for a moment suppose; but it will, I believe, be found
that none of importance have been omitted. It is, indeed, true, that
among the materials of which the evidence consists, many deficiencies
will be seen; and a more protracted labour would have been rewarded by a
greater success. Of these shortcomings I am deeply sensible; and I can
only regret that the necessity of passing on to a still larger field has
compelled me to leave so much for future inquirers to gather in. At the
same time, it ought to be remembered, that this is the first attempt
which has ever been made to study the antecedents of the French
Revolution according to a scheme wide enough to include the whole of
their intellectual bearings. In defiance of sound philosophy, and, I
may say, in defiance of common understanding, historians obstinately
persist in neglecting those great branches of physical knowledge, in
which in every civilized country the operations of the human mind may be
most clearly seen, and therefore the mental habits most easily
ascertained. The result is, that the French Revolution, unquestionably
the most important, the most complicated, and the most glorious event in
history, has been given over to authors, many of whom have displayed
considerable ability, but all of whom have shown themselves destitute of
that preliminary scientific education, in the absence of which it is
impossible to seize the spirit of any period, or to take a comprehensive
survey of its various parts. Thus, to mention only a single instance: we
have seen that the extraordinary impulse given to the study of the
external world was intimately connected with that democratic movement
which overthrew the institutions of France. But this connexion
historians have been unable to trace; because they were unacquainted
with the progress of the various branches of natural philosophy and of
natural history. Hence it is that they have exhibited their great
subject maimed and mutilated, shorn of those fair proportions which it
ought to possess. According to this scheme, the historian sinks into the
annalist; so that, instead of solving a problem, he merely paints a
picture. Without, therefore, disparaging the labours of those
industrious men who have collected materials for a history of the French
Revolution, we may assuredly say, that the history itself has never been
written; since they who have attempted the task have not possessed such
resources as would enable them to consider it as merely a single part of
that far larger movement which was seen in every department of science,
of philosophy, of religion, and of politics.
Whether or not I have effected anything of real value towards remedying
this deficiency, is a question for competent judges to decide. Of this,
at least, I feel certain, that whatever imperfections may be observed,
the fault consists, not in the method proposed, but in the extreme
difficulty of any single man putting into full operation all the parts
of so vast a scheme. It is on this point, and on this alone, that I feel
the need of great indulgence. But, as to the plan itself, I have no
misgivings; because I am deeply convinced that the time is fast
approaching when the history of Man will be placed on its proper
footing; when its study will be recognized as the noblest and most
arduous of all pursuits; and when it will be clearly seen, that, to
cultivate it with success, there is wanted a wide and comprehensive
mind, richly furnished with the highest branches of human knowledge.
When this is fully admitted, history will be written only by those whose
habits fit them for the task; and it will be rescued from the hands of
biographers, genealogists, collectors of anecdotes, chroniclers of
courts, of princes, and of nobles,--those babblers of vain things, who
lie in wait at every corner, and infest this the public highway of our
national literature. That such compilers should trespass on a province
so far above their own, and should think that by these means they can
throw light on the affairs of men, is one of many proofs of the still
backward condition of our knowledge, and of the indistinctness with
which its boundaries have been mapped out. If I have done anything
towards bringing these intrusions into discredit, and inspiring
historians themselves with a sense of the dignity of their own calling,
I shall have rendered in my time some little service, and I shall be
well content to have it said, that in many cases I have failed in
executing what I originally proposed. Indeed, that there are in this
volume several instances of such failure, I willingly allow; and I can
only plead the immensity of the subject, the shortness of a single life,
and the imperfection of every single enterprise. I, therefore, wish this
work to be estimated, not according to the finish of its separate parts,
but according to the way in which those parts have been fused into a
complete and symmetrical whole. This, in an undertaking of such novelty
and magnitude, I have a right to expect. And I would, moreover, add,
that if the reader has met with opinions adverse to his own, he should
remember that his views are, perchance, the same as those which I too
once held, and which I have abandoned, because, after a wider range of
study, I found them unsupported by solid proof, subversive of the
interests of Man, and fatal to the progress of his knowledge. To examine
the notions in which we have been educated, and to turn aside from those
which will not bear the test, is a task so painful, that they who shrink
from the suffering should pause before they reproach those by whom the
suffering is undergone. What I have put forward may, no doubt, be
erroneous; but it is, at all events, the result of an honest searching
after truth, of unsparing labour, of patient and anxious reflection.
Conclusions arrived at in this way, are not to be overturned by stating
that they endanger some other conclusions; nor can they be even affected
by allegations against their supposed tendency. The principles which I
advocate, are based upon distinct arguments, supported by
well-ascertained facts. The only points, therefore, to be ascertained,
are, whether the arguments are fair, and whether the facts are certain.
If these two conditions have been obeyed, the principles follow by an
inevitable inference. Their demonstration is, in the present volume,
necessarily incomplete; and the reader must suspend his final judgment
until the close of this Introduction, when the subject in all its
bearings will be laid before him. The remaining part of the Introduction
will be occupied, as I have already intimated, with an investigation of
the civilizations of Germany, America, Scotland, and Spain; each of
which presents a different type of intellectual development, and has,
therefore, followed a different direction in its religious, scientific,
social, and political history. The causes of these differences I shall
attempt to ascertain. The next step will be to generalize the causes
themselves; and having thus referred them to certain principles common
to all, we shall be possessed of what may be called the fundamental laws
of European thought; the divergence of the different countries being
regulated either by the direction those laws take, or else by their
comparative energy. To discover these fundamental laws will be the
business of the Introduction; while, in the body of the work, I shall
apply them to the history of England, and endeavour by their aid to work
out the epochs through which we have successively passed, fix the basis
of our present civilization, and indicate the path of our future
progress.