ALLEGED CAUSES OF POLITICAL CATASTROPHES EXAMINED.
FANATICISM--Aztec Empire of Mexico.--LUXURY--Modern European States
as luxurious as the ancient.--Corruption of morals--The standard of
morality fluctuates in the various periods of a nation's history:
example, France--Is no higher in youthful communities than in old
ones--Morality of Paris.--IRRELIGION--Never spreads through all
ranks of a nation--Greece and Rome--Tenacity of Paganism.
Before entering upon my reasons for the opinion expressed at the end of
the preceding chapter, it will be necessary to explain and define what I
understand by the term society. I do not apply this term to the more or
less extended circle belonging to a distinct sovereignty. The republic
of Athens is not, in my sense of the word, a society; neither is the
kingdom of Magadha, the empire of Pontus, or the caliphat of Egypt in
the time of the Fatimites. These are fragments of societies, which are
transformed, united, or subdivided, by the operation of those
primordial laws into which I am inquiring, but whose existence or
annihilation does not constitute the existence or annihilation of a
society. Their formation is, for the most part, a transient phenomenon,
which exerts but a limited, or even indirect influence upon the
civilization that gave it birth. By the term society, I understand an
association of men, actuated by similar ideas, and possessed of the same
general instincts. This association need by no means be perfect in a
political sense, but must be complete from a social point of view. Thus,
Egypt, Assyria, Greece, India, China, have been, or are still, the
theatres upon which distinct societies have worked out their destinies,
to which the perturbations in their political relations were merely
secondary. I shall, therefore, speak of the fractions of these societies
only when my reasoning applies equally to the whole. I am now prepared
to proceed to the examination of the question before us, and I hope to
prove that fanaticism, luxury, corruption of morals, and irreligion, do
not _necessarily_ occasion the ruin of nations.
All these maladies, either singly or combined, have attacked, and
sometimes with great virulence, nations which nevertheless recovered
from them, and were, perhaps, all the more vigorous afterward.
The Aztec empire, in Mexico, seemed to flourish for the especial glory
and exaltation of fanaticism. What can there be more fanatical than a
social and political system, based on a religion which requires the
incessant and profuse shedding of the blood of fellow-beings?[32] Our
remote ancestors, the barbarous nations of Northern Europe, did indeed
practise this unholy rite, but they never chose for their sacrifices
innocent victims,[33] or, at least, such as they considered so: the
shipwrecked and prisoners of war, were not considered innocent. But, for
the Mexicans, all victims were alike; with that ferocity, which a modern
physiologist[34] recognizes as a characteristic of the races of the New
World, they butchered their own fellow-citizens indiscriminately, and
without remorse or pity. And yet, this did not prevent them from being a
powerful, industrious, and wealthy nation, who might long have
continued to blaspheme the Deity by their dark creed, but for Cortez's
genius and the bravery of his companions. In this instance, then,
fanaticism was not the cause of the downfall.[35]
Nor are luxury or enervation more powerful in their effects. These
vices are almost always peculiar to the higher classes, and seldom
penetrate the whole mass of the population. But I doubt whether among
the Greeks, the Persians, or the Romans, whose downfall they are said to
have caused, luxury and enervation, albeit in a different form, had
risen to a higher pitch than we see them to-day in some of our modern
States, in France, Germany, England, and Russia, for instance. The two
last countries are especially distinguished for the luxury prevalent
among the higher classes, and yet, these two countries seem to be endued
with a vitality much more vigorous and promising than most other
European States. In the Middle Ages, the Venetians, Genoese, Pisanese,
accumulated in their magazines the treasures and luxuries of the world;
yet, the gorgeous magnificence of their palaces, and the splendid
decorations of their vessels, did certainly not diminish their power, or
subvert their dominion.[36]
Even the corruption of morals, this most terrible of all scourges, is
not necessarily a cause of national ruin. If it were, the prosperity of
a nation, its power and preponderance, would be in a direct ratio to the
purity of its manners; and it is hardly necessary to say that this is
not the case. The odd fashion of ascribing all sorts of imaginary
virtues to the first Romans, is now pretty much out of date.[37] Few
would now dare to hold up as models of morality those sturdy patricians
of the old school, who treated their women as slaves, their children as
cattle, and their creditors like wild beasts. If there should still be
some who would defend so bad a cause, their reasoning could easily be
refuted, and its want of solidity shown. Abuse of power, in all epochs,
has created equal indignation; there were deeper reasons for the
abolition of royalty than the rape of Lucretia, for the expulsion of the
decemvirs than the outrage of Appius; but these pretexts for two
important revolutions, sufficiently demonstrate the public sentiment
with regard to morals. It is a great mistake to ascribe the vigor of a
young nation to its superior virtues; since the beginning of historical
times, there has not been a community, however small, among which all
the reprehensible tendencies of human nature were not visible,
notwithstanding which, it has increased and prospered. There are even
instances where the splendor of a state was owing to the most abominable
institutions. The Spartans are indebted for their renown, and place in
history, to a legislation fit only for a community of bandits.[38]
So far from being willing to accord to youthful communities any
superiority in regard to morals, I have no doubt that, as nations
advance in age and consequently approach their period of decay, they
present to the eyes of the moralist a far more satisfactory
spectacle.[39] Manners become milder; men accommodate themselves more
readily to one another; the means of subsistence become, if not easier,
at least more varied; reciprocal obligations are better defined and
understood; more refined theories of right and wrong gain ground. It
would be difficult to show that at the time when the Greek arms
conquered Darius, or when Greek liberty itself fled forever from the
battle-field of Chæronæa, or when the Goths entered Rome as victors;
that the Persian monarchy, Athens, or the imperial city, in those times
of their downfall, contained a smaller proportion of honest and virtuous
people than in the most glorious epochs of their national existence.
But we need not go so far back for illustrations. If any one were
required to name the place where the spirit of our age displayed itself
in the most complete contrast with the virtuous ages of the world (if
such there were), he would most certainly point out Paris. Yet, many
learned and pious persons have assured me, that nowhere, and in no
epoch, could more practical virtue, solid piety, greater delicacy of
conscience, be found than within the precincts of this great and corrupt
city. The ideal of goodness is as exalted, the duties of a Christian as
well understood, as by the most brilliant luminaries of the Church in
the seventeenth century. I might add, that these virtues are divested of
the bitterness and severity from which, in those times, they were not
always exempt; and that they are more united with feelings of toleration
and universal philanthropy.[40] Thus we find, as if to counterbalance
the fearful aberrations of our own epoch, in the principal theatre of
these aberrations, contrasts more numerous and more striking, than
probably blessed the sight of the faithful in preceding ages.
I cannot even perceive that great men are wanting in those periods of
corruption and decay; on the contrary, these periods are often
signalized by the appearance of men remarkable for energy of character
and stern virtue.[41] If we look at the catalogue of Roman emperors, we
find a great number of them as exalted in merit as in rank; we meet with
names like those of Trajan, Antoninus Pius, Septimius Severus, Alexander
Severus, Jovian; and if we glance beneath the throne, we see a glorious
constellation of great doctors of our faith, of martyrs, and apostles of
the primitive church; not to consider the number of virtuous pagans.
Active, firm, and valorous minds filled the camps and the forums, so
that it may reasonably be doubted whether Rome, in the times of
Cincinnatus, possessed so great a number of eminent men in every
department of human activity. Many other examples might be alleged, to
prove that senile and tottering communities, so far from being deficient
in men of virtue, talent, and action, possess them probably in greater
number than young and rising states; and that their general standard of
morals is often higher.
Public morality, indeed, varies greatly at different periods of a
nation's history. The history of the French nation, better than any
other, illustrates this fact. Few will deny that the Gallo-Romans of
the fifth and sixth centuries, though a subject race, were greatly
superior in point of morals to their heroic conquerors.[42] Individually
taken, they were often not inferior to the latter in courage and
military virtue.[43] The intermixture of the two races, during the
eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, reduced the standard of morals among
the whole nation to a disgraceful level. In the three succeeding
centuries, the picture brightens again. Yet, this period of comparative
light was succeeded by the dark scenes of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries, when tyranny and debauchery ran riot over the land, and
infected all classes of society, not excepting the clergy; when the
nobles robbed their vassals, and the commonalty sold their country to a
foreign foe. This period, so distinguished for the total absence of
patriotism, and every honest sentiment, was emphatically one of decay;
the state was shaken to its very foundation, and seemed ready to bury
under its ruins so much shame and dishonor. But the crisis passed;
foreign and intestine foes were vanquished; the machinery of government
reconstructed on a firmer basis; the state of society improved.
Notwithstanding its bloody follies, the sixteenth century dishonors less
the annals of the nation than its predecessors, and it formed the
transition period to the age of those pure and ever-brilliant lights,
Fenelon, Bossuet, Montausier, and others. This period, again, was
succeeded by the vices of the regency, and the horrors of the
Revolution. Since that time, we have witnessed almost incredible
fluctuations of public morality every decade of years.
I have sketched rapidly, and merely pointed out the most prominent
changes. To do even this properly, much more to descend to details,
would require greater space than the limits and designs of this work
permit. But I think what I have said is sufficient to show that the
corruption of public morals, though always a great, is often a transient
evil, a malady which may be corrected or which corrects itself, and
cannot, therefore, be the sole cause of national ruin, though it may
hasten the catastrophe.
The corruption of public morals is nearly allied to another evil, which
has been assigned as one of the causes of the downfall of empires. It is
observed of Athens and Rome, that the glory of these two commonwealths
faded about the same time that they abandoned their national creeds.
These, however, are the only examples of such a coincidence that can be
cited. The religion of Zoroaster was never more flourishing in the
Persian empire, than at the time of its downfall. Tyre, Carthage, Judea,
the Mexican and Peruvian empires expired at the moment when they
embraced their altars with the greatest zeal and devotion. Nay, I do not
believe that even at Athens and Rome, the ancient creed was abandoned
until the day when it was replaced in every conscience, by the complete
triumph of Christianity. I am firmly convinced that, politically
speaking, irreligion never existed among any people, and that none ever
abandoned the faith of their forefathers, except in exchange for
another. In other words, there never was such a thing as a religious
interregnum. The Gallic Teutates gave way to the Jupiter of the Romans;
the worship of Jupiter, in its turn, was replaced by Christianity. It is
true that, in Athens, not long before the time of Pericles, and in Rome,
towards the age of the Scipios, it became the fashion among the higher
classes, first to reason upon religious subjects, next to doubt them,
and finally to disbelieve them altogether, and to pride themselves upon
scepticism. But though there were many who joined in the sentiment of
the ancient "freethinker" who dared the augurs to look at one another
without laughing, yet this scepticism never gained ground among the mass
of the people.
Aspasia at her evening parties, and Lelius among his intimates, might
ridicule the religious dogmas of their country, and amuse themselves at
the expense of those that believed them. But at both these epochs, the
most brilliant in the history of Greece and Rome, it would have been
highly dangerous to express such sentiments publicly. The imprudence of
his mistress came near costing Pericles himself dearly, and the tears
which he shed before the tribunal, were not in themselves sufficiently
powerful to save the fair sceptic. The poets of the times, Aristophanes,
Sophocles, and afterwards Æschylus, found it necessary, whatever were
their private sentiments, to flatter the religious notions of the
masses. The whole nation regarded Socrates as an impious innovator, and
would have put to death Anaxagoras, but for the strenuous intercession
of Pericles. Nor did the philosophical and sceptical theories penetrate
the masses at a later period. Never, at any time, did they extend beyond
the sphere of the elegant and refined. It may be objected that the
opinion of the rest, the mechanics, traders, the rural population, the
slaves, etc., was of little moment, as they had no influence in the
policy of the state. If this were the case, why was it necessary, until
the last expiring throb of Paganism, to preserve its temples and pay the
hierophants? Why did men, the most eminent and enlightened, the most
sceptical in their religious notions, not only don the sacerdotal robe,
but even descend to the most repugnant offices of the popular worship?
The daily reader of Lucretius[44] had to snatch moments of leisure from
the all-absorbing game of politics, to compose a treatise on haruspicy.
I allude to the first Cæsar.[45] And all his successors, down to
Constantine, were compelled to unite the pontificial with the imperial
dignity. Even Constantine himself, though as a Christian prince he had
far better reasons for repugnance to such an office than any of his
predecessors, was compelled to compromise with the still powerful
ancient religion of the nation.[46] This is a clear proof of the
prevalence of the popular sentiment over the opinion of the higher and
more enlightened classes. They might appeal to reason and common sense,
against the absurdities of the masses, but the latter would not, could
not, renounce one faith until they had adopted another, confirming the
old truth, that in the affairs of this world, the positive ever takes
precedent over the negative. The popular sentiment was so strong that,
in the third century, it infected even the higher classes to some
extent, and created among them a serious religious reaction, which did
not entirely subside until after the final triumph of Christianity. The
revolution of ideas which gradually diffused true religion among all
classes, is highly interesting, and it may not be altogether irrelevant
to my subject, to point out the principal causes which occasioned it.
In the latter stages of the Roman empire, the armies had acquired such
undue political preponderance, that from the emperor, who inevitably
was chosen by them, down to the pettiest governor of a district, all the
functionaries of the government issued from the ranks. They had sprung
from those popular masses, of whose passionate attachment to their faith
I have already spoken, and upon attaining their elevated stations, came
in contact with the former rulers of the country, the old distinguished
families, the municipal dignitaries of cities, in fact those classes who
took pride and delight in sceptical literature. At first there was
hostility between these latter and the real rulers of the state, whom
they would willingly have treated as upstarts, if they had dared. But as
the court gave the tone, and all the minor military chiefs were, for the
most part, devout and fanatic, the sceptics were compelled to disguise
their real sentiments, and the philosophers set about inventing systems
to reconcile the rationalistic theories with the state religion. This
revival of pagan piety caused the greater number of the persecutions.
The rural populations, who had suffered their faith to be outraged by
the atheists so long as the higher classes domineered over them, now,
that the imperial democracy had reduced all to the same level, were
panting for revenge; but, mistaking their victims, they directed their
fury against the Christians. The real sceptics were such men as King
Agrippa, who wishes to hear St. Paul[47] from mere curiosity; who hears
him, debates with him, considers him a fool, but never thinks of
persecuting him because he differs in opinion; or Tacitus, the
historian, who, though full of contempt for the believers in the new
religion, blames Nero for his cruelties towards them.
Agrippa and Tacitus were pagan sceptics. Diocletian was a politician,
who gave way to the clamors of an incensed populace. Decius and Aurelian
were fanatics, like the masses they governed, and from whom they had
sprung.
Even after the Christian religion had become the religion of the state,
what immense difficulties were experienced in attempting to bring the
masses within its pale! So hopeless was in some places the contest with
the local divinities, that in many instances conversion was rather the
result of address, than the effect of persuasion. The genius of the holy
propagators of our religion was reduced to the invention of pious
frauds. The divinities of the groves, fields, and fountains, were still
worshipped, but under the name of the saints, the martyrs, and the
Virgin. After being for a time misdirected, these homages would finally
find the right way. Yet such is the obstinacy with which the masses
cling to a faith once received, that there are traces of it remaining in
our day. There are still parishes in France, where some heathenish
superstition alarms the piety, and defies the efforts of the minister.
In Catholic Brittany, even in the last centuries, the bishop in vain
attempted to dehort his flock from the worship of an idol of stone. The
rude image was thrown into the water, but rescued by its obstinate
adorers; and the assistance of the military was required to break it to
pieces. Such was, and such is the longevity of paganism. I conclude,
therefore, that no nation, either in ancient or modern times, ever
abandoned its religion without having duly and earnestly embraced
another, and that, consequently, none ever found itself, for a moment,
in a state of irreligion, which could have been the cause of its ruin.
Having denied the destructive effects of fanaticism, luxury, and
immorality, and the political possibility of irreligion, I shall now
speak of the effects of bad government. This subject is well worthy of
an entire chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[32] See Prescott's _History of the Conquest of Mexico_.
[33] C. F. Weber, _M. A. Lucani Pharsalia_. Leipzig, 1828, vol. i. pp.
122-123, _note_.
[34] Prichard, _Natural History of Man_.--Dr. Martius is still more
explicit. (See _Martius and Spix_, _Reise in Brasilien_. Munich, vol. i.
pp. 379-380.)
Mr. Gobineau quotes from M. Roulin's French translation of Prichard's
great work, and as I could not always find the corresponding pages in
the original, I have sometimes been obliged to omit the citation of the
page, that in the French translation being useless to English
readers.--_Transl._
[35] I greatly doubt whether the fanaticism of even the ancient Mexicans
could exceed that displayed by some of our not very remote ancestors.
Who, that reads the trials for witchcraft in the judicial records of
Scotland, and, after smiling at the frivolous, inconsistent testimony
against the accused, comes to the cool, uncommented marginal note of the
reporter: "Convicta et combusta," does not feel his heart leap for
horror? But, if he comes to an entry like the following, he feels as
though lightning from heaven could but inflict too mild a punishment on
the perpetrators of such unnatural crimes.
"1608, Dec. 1.--The Earl of Mar declared to the council, that some women
were taken in Broughton as witches, and being put to an assize, and
convicted, albeit they persevered constant in their denial to the end,
they were burnt quick (alive), after such a cruel manner, that some of
them died in despair, renouncing and blaspheming God; and _others,
half-burned, brak out of the fire, and were cast in it again, till they
were burned to death_." Entry in Sir Thomas Hamilton's _Minutes of
Proceedings in the Privy Council_. (From W. Scott's _Letters on
Demonology and Witchcraft_, p. 315.)
Really, I do not believe that the Peruvians ever carried fanaticism so
far. Yet, a counterpart to this horrible picture is found in the history
of New England. A man, named Cory, being accused of witchcraft, and
refusing to plead, was accordingly pressed to death. And when, in the
agony of death, the unfortunate man thrust out his tongue, the sheriff,
without the least emotion, crammed it back into the mouth with his cane.
(See Cotton Mather's _Magnalia Christi Americana_, Hardford. _Thau.
Pneu_, c. vii. p. 383, _et passim_.)
Did the ferocity of the most brutish savages ever invent any torture
more excruciating than that in use in the British Isles, not much more
than two centuries ago, for bringing poor, decrepit old women to the
confession of a crime which never existed but in the crazed brain of
bigots. "The nails were torn from the fingers with smith's pincers; pins
driven into the places which the nails defended; the knees were crushed
in the _boots_, the finger-bones splintered in the _pilniewinks_," etc.
(Scott, _op. cit._, p. 312.) But then, it is true, they had a more
_gentle_ torture, which an English Lord (Eglington) had the honor and
humanity to invent! This consisted in placing the legs of a poor woman
in the stocks, and then _loading the bare shins with bars of iron_.
Above thirty stones of iron were placed upon the limbs of an unfortunate
woman before she could be brought to the confession which led her to the
stake. (Scott, _op. cit._, pp. 321, 324, 327, etc. etc.)
As late as 1682, not yet 200 years ago, three women were hanged, in
England, for witchcraft; and the fatal statute against it was not
abolished until 1751, when the rabble put to death, in the most horrible
manner, an old pauper woman, and very nearly killed another.
And, in the middle of last century, eighty-five persons were burnt, or
otherwise executed, for witchcraft, at Mohra, in Sweden. Among them were
fifteen young children.
If God had ordained that fanaticism should be punished by national ruin,
were not these crimes, in which, in most cases, the whole nation
participated, were not they horrible enough to draw upon the
perpetrators the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah? Surely, if fanaticism were
the cause of national decay, most European nations had long since been
swept from the face of the globe, "so that their places could nowhere be
found."--H.
[36] There seem, at first sight, to be exceptions to the truth of the
assertion, that luxury, in itself, is not productive of national ruin.
Venice, Genoa, Pisa, etc., were _aristocratic_ republics, in which, as
in monarchies, a high degree of luxury is not only compatible with, but
may even be greatly conducive to the prosperity of the state. But the
basis of a _democratic_ republic is a more or less perfect equality
among its citizens, which is often impaired, and, in the end, subverted
by too great a disparity of wealth. Yet, even in them, glaring contrasts
between extravagant luxury and abject poverty are rather the sign than
the cause, of the disappearance of democratic principles. Examples might
be adduced from history, of democracies in which great wealth did not
destroy democratic ideas and a consequent simplicity of manners. These
ideas must first be forgotten, before wealth can produce luxury, and
luxury its attendant train of evils. Though accelerating the downfall of
a democratic republic, it is therefore not the primary cause of that
downfall.--H.
[37] Balzac, _Lettre à Madame la Duchesse de Montausier_.
[38] That this stricture is not too severe will be obvious to any one
who reflects on the principles upon which this legislation was based.
Inculcating that war was the great business of life, and to be terrible
to one's enemies the only object of manly ambition, the Spartan laws
sacrificed the noblest private virtues and domestic affections. They
deprived the female character of the charms that most adorn it--modesty,
tenderness, and sensibility; they made men brutal, coarse, and cruel.
They stunted individual talents; Sparta has produced but few great men,
and these, says Macaulay, only became great when they ceased to be
Lacedemonians. Much unsound sentimentality has been expended in
eulogizing Sparta, from Xenophon down to Mitford, yet the verdict of the
unbiassed historian cannot differ very widely from that of Macaulay:
"The Spartans purchased for their government a prolongation of its
existence by the sacrifice of happiness at home, and dignity abroad.
They cringed to the powerful, they trampled on the weak, they massacred
their helots, they betrayed their allies, they contrived to be a day too
late for the battle of Marathon, they attempted to avoid the battle of
Salamis, they suffered the Athenians, to whom they owed their lives and
liberties, to be a second time driven from their country by the
Persians, that they might finish their own fortifications on the
Isthmus; they attempted to take advantage of the distress to which
exertions in their cause had reduced their preservers, in order to make
them their slaves; they strove to prevent those who had abandoned their
walls to defend them, from rebuilding them to defend themselves; they
commenced the Peloponnesian war in violation of their engagements with
their allies; they gave up to the sword whole cities which had placed
themselves under their protection; they bartered for advantages confined
to themselves the interests, the freedom, and the lives of those who had
served them most faithfully; they took, with equal complacency, and
equal infamy, the stripes of Elis and the bribes of Persia; they never
showed either resentment or gratitude; they abstained from no injury,
and they revenged none. Above all, they looked on a citizen who served
them well as their deadliest enemy."--_Essays_, iii. 389.--H.
[39] The horrid scenes of California life, its lynch laws, murders, and
list of all possible crimes, are still ringing in our ears, and have not
entirely ceased, though their number is lessened, and they are rapidly
disappearing before lawful order. Australia offered, and still offers,
the same spectacle. Texas, but a few years ago, and all newly settled
countries in our day, afford another striking illustration of the
author's remark. Young communities ever attract a great number of
lawless and desperate men; and this has been the case in all ages. Rome
was founded by a band of fugitives from justice, and if her early
history be critically examined, it will be found to reveal a state of
society, with which the Rome described by the Satirists, and upbraided
by the Censors, compares favorably. Any one who will cast a glance into
Bishop Potter's _Antiquities_, can convince himself that the state of
morals, in Athens, was no better in her most flourishing periods than at
the time of her downfall, if, indeed, as good; notwithstanding the
glowing colors in which Isocrates and his followers describe the virtues
of her youthful period, and the degeneracy of the age. Who can doubt
that public morality has attained a higher standard in England, at the
present day when her strength seems to have departed from her, than it
had at any previous era in her history. Where are the brutal fox-hunting
country squires of former centuries? the good old customs, when
hospitality consisted in drinking one's guest underneath the table? What
audience could now endure, or what police permit, the plays of Congreve
and of Otway? Even Shakspeare has to be pruned by the moral censor,
before he can charm our ears. Addison himself, than whom none
contributed more to purify the morals of his age, bears unmistakable
traces of the coarseness of the time in which he wrote. It will be
objected that we are only more prudish, no better at the bottom. But,
even supposing that the same vices still exist, is it not a great step
in advance, that they dare no longer parade themselves with unblushing
impudence? Many who derive their ideas of the Middle Ages, of chivalry,
etc., from the accounts of romance writers, have very erroneous notions
about the manners of that period. "It so happens," says Byron, "that the
good old times when '_l'amour du bon vieux temps, l'amour antique_'
flourished, were the most profligate of all possible centuries. Those
who have any doubts on the subject may consult St. Palay, particularly
vol. ii. p. 69. The vows of chivalry were no better kept than any other
vows whatever, and the songs of the troubadour were not more decent, and
certainly much less refined, than those of Ovid. The 'cours d'amour,
parlements d'amour, ou de courtoisie et de gentilesse,' had much more of
love than of courtesy and gentleness. (See Roland on the same subject
with St. Palay.)" _Preface to Childe Harold._ I should not have quoted
the authority of a poet on historical matters, were I not convinced,
from my own investigations, that his pungent remarks are perfectly
correct. As a further confirmation, I may mention that a few years ago,
in rummaging over the volumes of a large European library, I casually
lit upon a record of judicial proceedings during the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, in a little commonwealth, whose simplicity of
manners, and purity of public morals, especially in that period, has
been greatly extolled by historians. There, I found a list of crimes, to
which the most corrupt of modern great cities can furnish no parallel.
In horror and hellish ingenuity, they can be faintly approached only by
the punishment which followed them. Of many, our generation ignores even
the name, and, of others, dares not utter them.--H.
[40] This assertion may surprise those who, in the words of a piquant
writer on Parisian life, "have thought of Paris only under two
aspects--one, as the emporium of fashion, fun, and refinement; the abode
of good fellows somewhat dissipated, of fascinating ladies somewhat
over-kind; of succulent dinners, somewhat indigestible; of pleasures,
somewhat illicit;--the other, as the place _par excellence_, of
revolutions, _émeutes_, and barricades." Yet, all who have pierced below
the brilliant surface, and penetrated into the recesses of destitution
and crime, have seen the ministering angel of charity on his errand, and
can bear witness to the truth of the author's remark. No city can show a
greater number of benevolent institutions, none more active and
practical _private_ charity, which inquires not after the country or
creed of its object.--H.
[41] Tottering, falling Greece, gave birth to a Demosthenes, a Phocian;
the period of the downfall of the Roman republic was the age of Cicero,
Brutus, and Cato.--H.
[42] The subjoined picture of the manners of the Frankish conquerors of
Gaul, is selected on account of the weighty authority from which it
comes, from among a number of even darker ones. "The history of Gregory
of Tours shows us on the one hand, a fierce and barbarous nation; and on
the other, kings of as bad a character. These princes were bloody,
unjust, and cruel, because all the nation was so. If Christianity seemed
sometimes to soften them, it was only by the terror which this religion
imprints in the guilty; the church supported herself against them by the
miracles and prodigies of her saints. The kings were not sacrilegious,
because they dreaded the punishments inflicted on sacrilegious people:
but this excepted, they committed, either in their passion or cold
blood, all manner of crimes and injustice, because in these the avenging
hand of the Deity did not appear so visible. The Franks, as I have
already observed, bore with bloody kings, because they were fond of
blood themselves; they were not affected with the wickedness and
extortion of their princes, because this was their own character. There
had been a great many laws established, but the kings rendered them all
useless by the practice of issuing _preceptions_, a kind of decrees,
after the manner of the rescripts of the Roman emperors. These
preceptions were orders to the judges to do, or to tolerate, things
contrary to law. They were given for illicit marriages, and even those
with consecrated virgins; for transferring successions, and depriving
relations of their rights; for putting to death persons who had not been
convicted of any crime, and not been heard in their defence,
etc."--MONTESQUIEU, _Esprit des Lois_, b. 31, c. 2.--H.
[43] Augustin Thierry, _Récit des Temps Mérovingiens_. (See particularly
the _History of Mummolus_.)
[44] Lucretius was the author of _De Rerum Natura_, and one of the most
distinguished of pagan "free-thinkers." He labored to combine the
philosophy of Epicurus, Evhenius, and others, into a sort of moral
religion, much after the fashion of some of the German mystics and
Platonists of our times.--H.
[45] Cæsar, whose private opinions were both democratical and sceptical,
found it convenient to speak very differently in public, as the funeral
oration in honor of his aunt proves. "On the maternal side, said he, my
aunt Julia is descended from the kings; on the paternal, from the
immortal gods. For my aunt's mother was of the family of the Martii, who
are descended from King Ancus Martius; and the Julii, to which stock our
family belongs, trace their origin to Venus. Thus, in her blood was
blended the majesty of kings, the most powerful of men, and the sanctity
of the gods, who have even the kings in their power."--_Suetonius_,
_Julius_, 5.
Are not these sentiments very monarchical for a democrat; very religious
for an atheist?
[46] It is well known that Constantine did not receive the rite of
baptism until within the last hours of his life, although he professed
to be a sincere believer. The coins, also, struck during his reign, all
bore pagan emblems.--H.
[47] Acts xxvi. 24, 28, 31.