Читать книгу History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3 - Henry Buckley, Buckle Henry Thomas - Страница 5

At length Louis XIV. died. When it was positively known that the old king had ceased to breathe, the people went almost mad with joy.518 The tyranny which had weighed them down was removed; and there at once followed a reaction which, for sudden violence, has no parallel in modern history.519 The great majority indemnified themselves for their forced hypocrisy by indulging in the grossest licentiousness. But among the generation then forming, there were some high-spirited youths, who had far higher views, and whose notions of liberty were not confined to the license of the gaming-house and the brothel. Devoted to the great idea of restoring to France that freedom of utterance which it had lost, they naturally turned their eyes towards the only country where the freedom was practised. Their determination to search for liberty in the place where alone it could be found, gave rise to that junction of the French and English intellects, which, looking at the immense chain of its effects, is by far the most important fact in the history of the eighteenth century.

During the reign of Louis XIV., the French, puffed up by national vanity, despised the barbarism of a people who were so uncivilized as to be always turning on their rulers, and who, within the space of forty years, had executed one king, and deposed another.520 They could not believe that such a restless horde possessed anything worthy the attention of enlightened men. Our laws, our literature, and our manners, were perfectly unknown to them; and I doubt if at the end of the seventeenth century there were, either in literature or in science, five persons in France acquainted with the English language.521 But a long experience of the reign of Louis XIV. induced the French to reconsider many of their opinions. It induced them to suspect that despotism may have its disadvantages, and that a government composed of princes and bishops is not necessarily the best for a civilized country. They began to look, first with complacency, and then with respect, upon that strange and outlandish people, who, though only separated from themselves by a narrow sea, appeared to be of an altogether different kind; and who, having punished their oppressors, had carried their liberties and their prosperity to a height of which the world had seen no example. These feelings, which before the Revolution broke out, were entertained by the whole of the educated classes in France, were in the beginning, confined to those men whose intellects placed them at the head of their age. During the two generations which elapsed between the death of Louis XIV. and the outbreak of the Revolution, there was hardly a Frenchman of eminence who did not either visit England or learn English; while many of them did both. Buffon, Brissot, Broussonnet, Condamine, Delisle, Elie de Beaumont, Gournay, Helvétius, Jussieu, Lalande, Lafayette, Larcher, L'Héritier, Montesquieu, Maupertuis, Morellet, Mirabeau, Nollet, Raynal, the celebrated Roland, and his still more celebrated wife, Rousseau, Ségur, Suard, Voltaire – all these remarkable persons flocked to London, as also did others of inferior ability, but of considerable influence, such as Brequiny, Bordes, Calonne, Coyer, Cormatin, Dufay, Dumarest, Dezallier, Favier, Girod, Grosley, Godin, D'Hancarville, Hunauld, Jars, Le Blanc, Ledru, Lescallier, Linguet, Lesuire, Lemonnier, Levesque de Pouilly, Montgolfier, Morand, Patu, Poissonier, Reveillon, Septchènes, Silhouette, Siret, Soulavie, Soulès, and Valmont de Brienne.

Nearly all of these carefully studied our language, and most of them seized the spirit of our literature. Voltaire, in particular, devoted himself with his usual ardour to the new pursuit, and acquired in England a knowledge of those doctrines, the promulgation of which, afterwards won for him so great a reputation.522 He was the first who popularized in France the philosophy of Newton, where it rapidly superseded that of Descartes.523 He recommended to his countrymen the writings of Locke;524 which soon gained immense popularity, and which supplied materials to Condillac for his system of metaphysics,525 and to Rousseau for his theory of education.526 Besides this, Voltaire was the first Frenchman who studied Shakespeare; to whose works he was greatly indebted, though he afterwards wished to lessen what he considered the exorbitant respect paid to them in France.527 Indeed, so intimate was his knowledge of the English language,528 that we can trace his obligations to Butler,529 one of the most difficult of our poets, and to Tillotson,530 one of the dullest of our theologians. He was acquainted with the speculations of Berkeley,531 the most subtle metaphysician who has ever written in English; and he had read the works, not only of Shaftesbury,532 but even of Chubb,533 Garth,534 Mandeville,535 and Woolston.536 Montesquieu imbibed in our country many of his principles; he studied our language; and he always expressed admiration for England, not only in his writings, but also in his private conversation.537 Buffon learnt English, and his first appearance as an author was as the translator of Newton and of Hales.538 Diderot, following in the same course, was an enthusiastic admirer of the novels of Richardson;539 he took the idea of several of his plays from the English dramatists, particularly from Lillo; he borrowed many of his arguments from Shaftesbury and Collins, and his earliest publication was a translation of Stanyan's History of Greece.540 Helvétius, who visited London, was never weary of praising the people; many of the views in his great work on the Mind are drawn from Mandeville; and he constantly refers to the authority of Locke, whose principles hardly any Frenchman would at an earlier period have dared to recommend.541 The works of Bacon, previously little known, were now translated into French; and his classification of the human faculties was made the basis of that celebrated Encyclopædia, which is justly regarded as one of the greatest productions of the eighteenth century.542 The Theory of Moral Sentiments, by Adam Smith, was during thirty-four years translated three different times, by three different French authors.543 And such was the general eagerness, that directly the Wealth of Nations, by the same great writer, appeared, Morellet, who was then high in reputation, began to turn it into French; and was only prevented from printing his translation by the circumstance, that before it could be completed, another version of it was published in a French periodical.544 Coyer, who is still remembered for his Life of Sobieski, visited England; and after returning to his own country, showed the direction of his studies by rendering into French the Commentaries of Blackstone.545 Le Blanc travelled in England, wrote a work expressly upon the English, and translated into French the Political Discourses of Hume.546 Holbach was certainly one of the most active leaders of the liberal party in Paris; but a large part of his very numerous writings consists solely in translations of English authors.547 Indeed, it may be broadly stated, that while, at the end of the seventeenth century, it would have been difficult to find, even among the most educated Frenchmen, a single person acquainted with English, it would, in the eighteenth century, have been nearly as difficult to find in the same class one who was ignorant of it. Men of all tastes, and of the most opposite pursuits, were on this point united as by a common bond. Poets, geometricians, historians, naturalists, all seemed to agree as to the necessity of studying a literature on which no one before had wasted a thought. In the course of general reading, I have met with proofs that the English language was known, not only to those eminent Frenchmen whom I have already mentioned, but also to mathematicians, as D'Alembert,548 Darquier,549 Du Val le Roy,550 Jurain,551 Lachapelle,552 Lalande,553 Le Cozic,554 Montucla,555 Pezenas,556 Prony,557 Romme,558 and Roger Martin;559 to anatomists, physiologists, and writers on medicine, as Barthèz,560 Bichat,561 Bordeu,562 Barbeu Dubourg,563 Bosquillon,564 Bourru,565 Begue de Presle,566 Cabanis,567 Demours,568 Duplanil,569 Fouquet,570 Goulin,571 Lavirotte,572 Lassus,573 Petit Radel,574 Pinel,575 Roux,576 Sauvages,577 and Sue;578 to naturalists, as Alyon,579 Brémond,580 Brisson,581 Broussonnet,582 Dalibard,583 Haüy,584 Latapie,585 Richard,586 Rigaud,587 and Romé de Lisle;588 to historians, philologists, and antiquaries, as Barthélemy,589 Butel Dumont,590 De Brosses,591 Foucher,592 Freret,593 Larcher,594 Le Coc de Villeray,595 Millot,596 Targe,597 Velly,598 Volney,599 and Wailly;600 to poets and dramatists, as Chéron,601 Colardeau,602 Delille,603 Desforges,604 Ducis,605 Florian,606 Laborde,607 Lefèvre de Beauvray,608 Mercier,609 Patu,610 Pompignan,611 Quétant,612 Roucher,613 and Saint Ange;614 to miscellaneous writers, as Bassinet,615 Baudeau,616 Beaulaton,617 Benoist,618 Bergier,619 Blavet,620 Bouchaud,621 Bougainville,622 Bruté,623 Castera,624 Chantreau,625 Charpentier,626 Chastellux,627 Contant d'Orville,628 De Bissy,629 Demeunier,630 Desfontaines,631 Devienne,632 Dubocage,633 Dupré,634 Duresnel,635 Eidous,636 Estienne,637 Favier,638 Flavigny,639 Fontanelle,640 Fontenay,641 Framery,642 Fresnais,643 Fréville,644 Frossard,645 Galtier,646 Garsault,647 Goddard,648 Goudar,649 Guénée,650 Guillemard,651 Guyard,652 Jault,653 Imbert,654 Joncourt,655 Kéralio,656 Laboreau,657 Lacombe,658 Lafargue,659 La Montagne,660 Lanjuinais,661 Lasalle,662 Lasteyrie,663 Le Breton,664 Lécuy,665 Léonard des Malpeines,666 Letourneur,667 Linguet,668 Lottin,669 Luneau,670 Maillet Duclairon,671 Mandrillon,672 Marsy,673 Moet,674 Monod,675 Mosneron,676 Nagot,677 Peyron,678 Prévost,679 Puisieux,680 Rivoire,681 Robinet,682 Roger,683 Roubaud,684 Salaville,685 Sauseuil,686 Secondat,687 Septchènes,688 Simon,689 Soulès,690 Suard,691 Tannevot,692 Thurot,693 Toussaint,694 Tressan,695 Trochereau,696 Turpin,697 Ussieux,698 Vaugeois,699 Verlac,700 and Virloys.701 Indeed, Le Blanc, who wrote shortly before the middle of the eighteenth century, says: ‘We have placed English in the rank of the learned languages; our women study it, and have abandoned Italian in order to study the language of this philosophic people; nor is there to be found among us any one who does not desire to learn it.’702

Such was the eagerness with which the French imbibed the literature of a people whom but a few years before they had heartily despised. The truth is, that in this new state of things they had no alternative. For where but in England was a literature to be found that could satisfy those bold and inquisitive thinkers who arose in France after the death of Louis XIV.? In their own country there had no doubt been great displays of eloquence, of fine dramas, and of poetry, which, though never reaching the highest point of excellence, is of finished and admirable beauty. But it is an unquestionable fact, and one melancholy to contemplate, that during the sixty years which succeeded the death of Descartes, France had not possessed a single man who dared to think for himself. Metaphysicians, moralists, historians, all had become tainted by the servility of that bad age. During two generations, no Frenchman had been allowed to discuss with freedom any question, either of politics or of religion. The consequence was, that the largest intellects, excluded from their legitimate field, lost their energy; the national spirit died away; the very materials and nutriment of thought seemed to be wanting. No wonder then, if the great Frenchmen of the eighteenth century sought that aliment abroad which they were unable to find at home. No wonder if they turned from their own land, and gazed with admiration at the only people who, pushing their inquiries into the highest departments, had shown the same fearlessness in politics as in religion; a people who, having punished their kings and controlled their clergy, were storing the treasures of their experience in that noble literature which never can perish, and of which it may be said in sober truth, that it has stimulated the intellect of the most distant races, and that, planted in America and in India, it has already fertilized the two extremities of the world.

There are, in fact, few things in history so instructive as the extent to which France was influenced by this new pursuit. Even those who took part in actually consummating the Revolution, were moved by the prevailing spirit. The English language was familiar to Carra,703 Dumouriez,704 Lafayette,705 and Lanthénas.706 Camille Desmoulins had cultivated his mind from the same source.707 Marat travelled in Scotland as well as in England, and was so profoundly versed in our language that he wrote two works in it; one of which, called The Chains of Slavery, was afterwards translated into French.708 Mirabeau is declared by a high authority to have owed part of his power to a careful study of the English constitution;709 he translated not only Watson's History of Philip II., but also some parts of Milton;710 and it is said that when he was in the National Assembly, he delivered, as his own, passages from the speeches of Burke.711 Mounier was well acquainted with our language, and with our political institutions both in theory and in practice;712 and in a work, which exercised considerable influence, he proposed for his own country the establishment of two chambers, to form that balance of power of which England supplied the example.713 The same idea, derived from the same source, was advocated by Le Brun, who was a friend of Mounier's, and who, like him, had paid attention to the literature and government of the English people.714 Brissot knew English; he had studied in London the working of the English institutions, and he himself mentions that, in his treatise on criminal law, he was mainly guided by the course of English legislation.715 Condorcet also proposed as a model our system of criminal jurisprudence,716 which, bad as it was, certainly surpassed that possessed by France. Madame Roland, whose position, as well as ability, made her one of the leaders of the democratic party, was an ardent student of the language and literature of the English people.717 She too, moved by the universal curiosity, came to our country; and, as if to show that persons of every shade and of every rank were actuated by the same spirit, the Duke of Orleans likewise visited England; nor did his visit fail to produce its natural results. ‘It was,’ says a celebrated writer, ‘in the society of London that he acquired a taste for liberty; and it was on his return from there that he brought into France a love of popular agitation, a contempt for his own rank, and a familiarity with those beneath him.’718

This language, strong as it is, will not appear exaggerated to any one who has carefully studied the history of the eighteenth century. It is no doubt certain, that the French Revolution was essentially a reaction against that protective and interfering spirit which reached its zenith under Louis XIV., but which, centuries before his reign, had exercised a most injurious influence over the national prosperity. While, however, this must be fully conceded, it is equally certain that the impetus to which the reaction owed its strength, proceeded from England; and that it was English literature which taught the lessons of political liberty, first to France, and through France to the rest of Europe.719 On this account, and not at all from mere literary curiosity, I have traced with some minuteness that union between the French and English minds, which, though often noticed, has never been examined with the care its importance deserves. The circumstances which reinforced this vast movement will be related towards the end of the volume; at present I will confine myself to its first great consequence, namely, the establishment of a complete schism between the literary men of France, and the classes who exclusively governed the country.

Those eminent Frenchmen who now turned their attention to England, found in its literature, in the structure of its society, and in its government, many peculiarities of which their own country furnished no example. They heard political and religious questions of the greatest moment debated with a boldness unknown in any other part of Europe. They heard dissenters and churchmen, whigs and tories, handling the most dangerous topics, and treating them with unlimited freedom. They heard public disputes respecting matters which no one in France dared to discuss; mysteries of state and mysteries of creed unfolded and rudely exposed to the popular gaze. And, what to Frenchmen of that age must have been equally amazing, they not only found a public press possessing some degree of freedom, but they found that within the very walls of parliament the administration of the crown was assailed with complete impunity, the character of its chosen servants constantly aspersed, and, strange to say, even the management of its revenues effectually controlled.720

The successors of the age of Louis XIV., seeing these things, and seeing, moreover, that the civilization of the country increased as the authority of the upper classes and of the crown diminished, were unable to restrain their wonder at so novel and exciting a spectacle. ‘The English nation,’ says Voltaire, ‘is the only one on the earth, which, by resisting its kings, has succeeded in lessening their power.721 How I love the boldness of the English! how I love men who say what they think!’722 The English, says Le Blanc, are willing to have a king, provided they are not obliged to obey him.723 The immediate object of their government, says Montesquieu, is political liberty;724 they possess more freedom than any republic;725 and their system is in fact a republic disguised as a monarchy.726 Grosley, struck with amazement, exclaims, ‘Property is in England a thing sacred, which the laws protect from all encroachment, not only from engineers, inspectors, and other people of that stamp, but even from the king himself.’727 Mably, in the most celebrated of all his works, says, ‘The Hanoverians are only able to reign in England because the people are free, and believe they have a right to dispose of the crown. But if the kings were to claim the same powers as the Stuarts, if they were to believe that the crown belonged to them by divine right, they would be condemning themselves and confessing that they were occupying a place which is not their own.’728 In England, says Helvétius, the people are respected; every citizen can take some part in the management of affairs; and authors are allowed to enlighten the public respecting its own interests.729 And Brissot, who had made these matters his especial study, cries out, ‘Admirable constitution! which can only be disparaged either by men who know it not, or else by those whose tongues are bridled by slavery.’730

Such were the opinions of some of the most celebrated Frenchmen of that time; and it would be easy to fill a volume with similar extracts. But, what I now rather wish to do, is, to point out the first great consequence of this new and sudden admiration for a country which, in the preceding age, had been held in profound contempt. The events which followed are, indeed, of an importance impossible to exaggerate; since they brought about that rupture between the intellectual and governing classes, of which the revolution itself was but a temporary episode.

The great Frenchmen of the eighteenth century being stimulated by the example of England into a love of progress, naturally came into collision with the governing classes, among whom the old stationary spirit still prevailed. This opposition was a wholesome reaction against that disgraceful servility for which, in the reign of Louis XIV., literary men had been remarkable; and if the contest which ensued had been conducted with anything approaching to moderation, the ultimate result would have been highly beneficial; since it would have secured that divergence between the speculative and practical classes which, as we have already seen, is essential to maintain the balance of civilization, and to prevent either side from acquiring a dangerous predominance. But, unfortunately, the nobles and clergy had been so long accustomed to power, that they could not brook the slightest contradiction from those great writers, whom they ignorantly despised as their inferiors. Hence it was, that when the most illustrious Frenchmen of the eighteenth century attempted to infuse into the literature of their country a spirit of inquiry similar to that which existed in England, the ruling classes became roused into a hatred and jealousy which broke all bounds, and gave rise to that crusade against knowledge which forms the second principal precursor of the French Revolution.

The extent of that cruel persecution to which literature was now exposed, can only be fully appreciated by those who have minutely studied the history of France in the eighteenth century. For it was not a stray case of oppression, which occurred here and there; but it was a prolonged and systematic attempt to stifle all inquiry, and punish all inquirers. If a list were drawn up of all the literary men who wrote during the seventy years succeeding the death of Louis XIV., it would be found, that at least nine out of every ten had suffered from the government some grievous injury; and that a majority of them had been actually thrown into prison. Indeed, in saying thus much, I am understating the real facts of the case; for I question if one literary man out of fifty escaped with entire impunity. Certainly, my own knowledge of those times, though carefully collected, is not so complete as I could have wished; but, among those authors who were punished, I find the name of nearly every Frenchman whose writings have survived the age in which they were produced. Among those who suffered either confiscation, or imprisonment, or exile, or fines, or the suppression of their works, or the ignominy of being forced to recant what they had written, I find, besides a host of inferior writers, the names of Beaumarchais, Berruyer, Bougeant, Buffon, D'Alembert, Diderot, Duclos, Freret, Helvétius, La Harpe, Linguet, Mably, Marmontel, Montesquieu, Mercier, Morellet, Raynal, Rousseau, Suard, Thomas, and Voltaire.

The mere recital of this list is pregnant with instruction. To suppose that all these eminent men deserved the treatment they received, would, even in the absence of direct evidence, be a manifest absurdity; since it would involve the supposition, that a schism having taken place between two classes, the weaker class was altogether wrong, and the stronger altogether right. Fortunately, however, there is no necessity for resorting to any merely speculative argument respecting the probable merits of the two parties. The accusations brought against these great men are before the world; the penalties inflicted are equally well known; and, by putting these together, we may form some idea of the state of society, in which such things could be openly practised.

Voltaire, almost immediately after the death of Louis XIV., was falsely charged with having composed a libel on that prince; and, for this imaginary offence, he, without the pretence of a trial, and without even the shadow of a proof, was thrown into the Bastille, where he was confined more than twelve months.731 Shortly after he was released, there was put upon him a still more grievous insult; the occurrence, and, above all, the impunity of which, supply striking evidence as to the state of society in which such things were permitted. Voltaire, at the table of the Duke de Sully, was deliberately insulted by the Chevalier de Rohan Chabot, one of those impudent and dissolute nobles who then abounded in Paris. The duke, though the outrage was committed in his own house, in his own presence, and upon his own guest, would not interfere; but seemed to consider that a poor poet was honoured by being in any way noticed by a man of rank. But, as Voltaire, in the heat of the moment, let fall one of those stinging retorts which were the terror of his enemies, the chevalier determined to visit him with further punishment. The course he adopted was characteristic of the man, and of the class to which he belonged. He caused Voltaire to be seized in the streets of Paris, and in his presence ignominiously beaten, he himself regulating the number of blows of which the chastisement was to consist. Voltaire, smarting under the insult, demanded that satisfaction which it was customary to give. This, however, did not enter into the plan of his noble assailer, who not only refused to meet him in the field, but actually obtained an order, by which he was confined in the Bastille for six months, and at the end of that time was directed to quit the country.732

Thus it was that Voltaire, having first been imprisoned for a libel which he never wrote, and having then been publicly beaten because he retorted an insult wantonly put upon him, was now sentenced to another imprisonment, through the influence of the very man by whom he had been attacked. The exile which followed the imprisonment seems to have been soon remitted; as, shortly after these events, we find Voltaire again in France, preparing for publication his first historical work, a life of Charles XII. In this, there are none of those attacks on Christianity which gave offence in his subsequent writings; nor does it contain the least reflection upon the arbitrary government under which he had suffered. The French authorities at first granted that permission, without which no book could then be published; but as soon as it was actually printed, the license was withdrawn, and the history forbidden to be circulated.733 The next attempt of Voltaire was one of much greater value: it was therefore repulsed still more sharply. During his residence in England, his inquisitive mind had been deeply interested by a state of things so different from any he had hitherto seen; and he now published an account of that remarkable people, from whose literature he had learned many important truths. His work, which he called Philosophic Letters, was received with general applause; but, unfortunately for himself, he adopted in it the arguments of Locke against innate ideas. The rulers of France, though not likely to know much about innate ideas, had a suspicion that the doctrine of Locke was in some way dangerous; and, as they were told that it was a novelty, they felt themselves bound to prevent its promulgation. Their remedy was very simple. They ordered that Voltaire should be again arrested and that his work should be burned by the common hangman.734

These repeated injuries might well have moved a more patient spirit than that of Voltaire.735 Certainly, those who reproach this illustrious man, as if he were the instigator of unprovoked attacks upon the existing state of things, must know very little of the age in which it was his misfortune to live. Even on what has been always considered the neutral ground of physical science, there was displayed the same despotic and persecuting spirit. Voltaire, among other schemes for benefiting France, wished to make known to his countrymen the wonderful discoveries of Newton, of which they were completely ignorant. With this view, he drew up an account of the labours of that extraordinary thinker; but here again the authorities interposed, and forbade the work to be printed.736 Indeed, the rulers of France, as if sensible that their only security was the ignorance of the people, obstinately set their face against every description of knowledge. Several eminent authors had undertaken to execute, on a magnificent scale, an Encyclopædia, which should contain a summary of all the branches of science and of art. This, undoubtedly the most splendid enterprise ever started by a body of literary men, was at first discouraged by the government, and afterwards entirely prohibited.737 On other occasions, the same tendency was shown in matters so trifling that nothing but the gravity of their ultimate results prevents them from being ridiculous. In 1770, Imbert translated Clarke's Letters on Spain: one of the best works then existing on that country. This book, however, was suppressed as soon as it appeared; and the only reason assigned for such a stretch of power is, that it contained some remarks respecting the passion of Charles III. for hunting, which were considered disrespectful to the French crown, because Louis XV. was himself a great hunter.738 Several years before this, La Bletterie, who was favourably known in France by his works, was elected a member of the French Academy. But he, it seems, was a Jansenist, and had, moreover, ventured to assert that the Emperor Julian, notwithstanding his apostacy, was not entirely devoid of good qualities. Such offences could not be overlooked in so pure an age; and the king obliged the Academy to exclude La Bletterie from their society.739 That the punishment extended no further, was an instance of remarkable leniency; for Fréret, an eminent critic and scholar,740 was confined in the Bastille, because he stated in one of his memoirs, that the earliest Frankish chiefs had received their titles from the Romans.741 The same penalty was inflicted four different times upon Lenglet du Fresnoy.742 In the case of this amiable and accomplished man, there seems to have been hardly the shadow of a pretext for the cruelty with which he was treated; though, on one occasion, the alleged offence was, that he had published a supplement to the History of De Thou.743

Indeed, we have only to open the biographies and correspondence of that time, to find instances crowding upon us from all quarters. Rousseau was threatened with imprisonment, was driven from France, and his works were publicly burned.744 The celebrated treatise of Helvétius on the mind was suppressed by an order from the royal council: it was burned by the common hangman, and the author was compelled to write two letters, retracting his opinions.745 Some of the geological views of Buffon having offended the clergy, that illustrious naturalist was obliged to publish a formal recantation of doctrines which are now known to be perfectly accurate.746 The learned Observations on the History of France, by Mably, were suppressed as soon as they appeared;747 for what reason it would be hard to say, since M. Guizot, certainly no friend either to anarchy or to irreligion, has thought it worth while to republish them, and thus stamp them with the authority of his own great name. The History of the Indies, by Raynal, was condemned to the flames, and the author ordered to be arrested.748 Lanjuinais, in his well-known work on Joseph II., advocated not only religious toleration, but even the abolition of slavery; his book, therefore, was declared to be ‘seditious;’ it was pronounced ‘destructive of all subordination,’ and was sentenced to be burned.749 The Analysis of Bayle, by Marsy, was suppressed, and the author was imprisoned.750 The History of the Jesuits, by Linguet, was delivered to the flames; eight years later his Journal was suppressed; and, three years after that, as he still persisted in writing, his Political Annals were suppressed, and he himself was thrown into the Bastille.751 Delisle de Sales was sentenced to perpetual exile, and confiscation of all his property, on account of his work on the Philosophy of Nature.752 The treatise by Mey, on French Law, was suppressed;753 that by Boncerf, on Feudal Law, was burned.754 The Memoirs of Beaumarchais were likewise burned;755 the Eloge on Fénelon by La Harpe was merely suppressed.756 Duvernet having written a History of the Sorbonne, which was still unpublished, was seized and thrown into the Bastille, while the manuscript was yet in his own possession.757 The celebrated work of De Lolme on the English constitution was suppressed by edict directly it appeared.758 The fate of being suppressed, or prohibited, also awaited the Letters of Gervaise, in 1724;759 the Dissertations of Courayer, in 1727;760 the Letters of Montgon, in 1732;761 the History of Tamerlane, by Margat, also in 1732;762 the Essay on Taste, by Cartaud, in 1736;763 the Life of Domat, by Prévost de la Jannès, in 1742;764 the History of Louis XI., by Duclos, in 1745;765 the Letters of Bargeton, in 1750;766 the Memoirs on Troyes, by Grosley, in the same year;767 the History of Clement XI., by Reboulet, in 1752;768 the School of Man, by Génard, also in 1752;769 the Therapeutics of Garlon, in 1756;770 the celebrated thesis of Louis, on Generation, in 1754;771 the Treatise on Presidial Jurisdiction, by Jousse, in 1755;772 the Ericie of Fontanelle, in 1768;773 the Thoughts of Jamin, in 1769;774 the History of Siam, by Turpin, and the Eloge of Marcus Aurelius, by Thomas, both in 1770;775 the works on Finance by Darigrand in 1764; and by Le Trosne, in 1779;776 the Essay on Military Tactics, by Guibert, in 1772; the Letters of Boucquet, in the same year;777 and the Memoirs of Terrai, by Coquereau, in 1776.778 Such wanton destruction of property was, however, mercy itself, compared to the treatment experienced by other literary men in France. Desforges, for example, having written against the arrest of the Pretender to the English throne, was, solely on that account, buried in a dungeon eight feet square, and confined there for three years.779 This happened in 1749; and in 1770, Audra, professor at the college of Toulouse, and a man of some reputation, published the first volume of his Abridgment of General History. Beyond this, the work never proceeded; it was at once condemned by the archbishop of the diocese, and the author was deprived of his office. Audra, held up to public opprobrium, the whole of his labours rendered useless, and the prospects of his life suddenly blighted, was unable to survive the shock. He was struck with apoplexy, and within twenty-four hours was lying a corpse in his own house.780

It will probably be allowed that I have collected sufficient evidence to substantiate my assertion respecting the persecutions directed against every description of literature; but the carelessness with which the antecedents of the French Revolution have been studied, has given rise to such erroneous opinions on this subject, that I am anxious to add a few more instances, so as to put beyond the possibility of doubt the nature of the provocations habitually received by the most eminent Frenchmen of the eighteenth century.

Among the many celebrated authors who, though, inferior to Voltaire, Montesquieu, Buffon, and Rousseau, were second only to them, three of the most remarkable were Diderot, Marmontel, and Morellet. The first two are known to every reader; while Morellet, though comparatively forgotten, had in his own time considerable influence, and had, moreover, the distinguished merit of being the first who popularized in France those great truths which had been recently discovered in political economy by Adam Smith, and in jurisprudence by Beccaria.

A certain M. Cury wrote a satire upon the Duke d'Aumont, which he showed to his friend Marmontel, who, struck by its power, repeated it to a small circle of his acquaintance. The duke, hearing of this, was full of indignation, and insisted upon the name of the author being given up. This, of course, was impossible without a gross breach of confidence; but Marmontel, to do everything in his power, wrote to the duke, stating, what was really the fact, that the lines in question had not been printed, that there was no intention of making them public, and that they had only been communicated to a few of his own particular friends. It might have been supposed that this would have satisfied even a French noble; but Marmontel, still doubting the result, sought an audience of the minister, in the hope of procuring the protection of the crown. All, however, was in vain. It will hardly be believed, that Marmontel, who was then at the height of his reputation, was seized in the middle of Paris, and because he refused to betray his friend, was thrown into the Bastille. Nay, so implacable were his persecutors, that after his liberation from prison they, in the hope of reducing him to beggary, deprived him of the right of publishing the Mercure, upon which nearly the whole of his income depended.781

To the Abbé Morellet a somewhat similar circumstance occurred. A miserable scribbler, named Palissot, had written a comedy ridiculing some of the ablest Frenchmen then living. To this Morellet replied by a pleasant little satire, in which he made a very harmless allusion to the Princess de Robeck, one of Palissot's patrons. She, amazed at such presumption, complained to the minister, who immediately ordered the abbé to be confined in the Bastille, where he remained for some months, although he had not only been guilty of no scandal, but had not even mentioned the name of the princess.782

The treatment of Diderot was still more severe. This remarkable man owed his influence chiefly to his immense correspondence, and to the brilliancy of a conversation for which, even in Paris, he was unrivalled, and which he used to display with considerable effect at those celebrated dinners where, during a quarter of a century, Holbach assembled the most illustrious thinkers in France.783 Besides this, he is the author of several works of interest, most of which are well known to the students of French literature.784 His independent spirit, and the reputation he obtained, earned for him a share in the general persecution. The first work he wrote was ordered to be publicly burned by the common hangman.785 This, indeed, was the fate of nearly all the best literary productions of that time; and Diderot might esteem himself fortunate in merely losing his property, provided he saved himself from imprisonment. But, a few years later, he wrote another work, in which he said that people who are born blind have some ideas different from those who are possessed of their eyesight. This assertion is by no means improbable,786 and it contains nothing by which any one need be startled. The men, however, who then governed France discovered in it some hidden danger. Whether they suspected that the mention of blindness was an allusion to themselves, or whether they were merely instigated by the perversity of their temper, is uncertain; at all events, the unfortunate Diderot, for having hazarded this opinion, was arrested, and without even the form of a trial, was confined in the dungeon of Vincennes.787 The natural results followed. The works of Diderot rose in popularity;788 and he, burning with hatred against his persecutors, redoubled his efforts to overthrow those institutions, under shelter of which such monstrous tyranny could be safely practised.

It seems hardly necessary to say more respecting the incredible folly with which the rulers of France, by turning every able man into a personal enemy,789 at length arrayed against the government all the intellect of the country, and made the Revolution a matter not of choice but of necessity. I will, however, as a fitting sequel to the preceding facts, give one instance of the way in which, to gratify the caprice of the higher classes, even the most private affections of domestic life, could be publicly outraged. In the middle of the eighteenth century, there was an actress on the French stage of the name of Chantilly. She, though beloved by Maurice de Saxe, preferred a more honourable attachment, and married Favart, the well-known writer of songs and of comic operas. Maurice, amazed at her boldness, applied for aid to the French crown. That he should have made such an application is sufficiently strange; but the result of it is hardly to be paralleled except in some Eastern despotism. The government of France, on hearing the circumstance, had the inconceivable baseness to issue an order directing Favart to abandon his wife, and intrust her to the charge of Maurice, to whose embraces she was compelled to submit.790

These are among the insufferable provocations, by which the blood of men is made to boil in their veins. Who can wonder that the greatest and noblest minds in France were filled with loathing at the government by whom such things were done? If we, notwithstanding the distance of time and country, are moved to indignation by the mere mention of them, what must have been felt by those before whose eyes they actually occurred? And when, to the horror they naturally inspired, there was added that apprehension of being the next victim which every one might personally feel; when, moreover, we remember that the authors of these persecutions had none of the abilities by which even vice itself is sometimes ennobled; – when we thus contrast the poverty of their understandings with the greatness of their crimes, we, instead of being astonished that there was a revolution, by which all the machinery of the state was swept away, should rather be amazed at that unexampled patience by which alone the revolution was so long deferred.

To me, indeed, it has always appeared, that the delay of the Revolution is one of the most striking proofs history affords of the force of established habits, and of the tenacity with which the human mind clings to old associations. For, if ever there existed a government inherently and radically bad, it was the government of France in the eighteenth century. If ever there existed a state of society likely, by its crying and accumulated evils, to madden men to desperation, France was in that state. The people, despised and enslaved, were sunk in abject poverty, and were curbed by laws of stringent cruelty, enforced with merciless barbarism. A supreme and irresponsible control was exercised over the whole country by the clergy, the nobles, and the crown. The intellect of France was placed under the ban of a ruthless proscription, its literature prohibited and burned, its authors plundered and imprisoned. Nor was there the least symptom that these evils were likely to be remedied. The upper classes, whose arrogance was increased by the long tenure of their power, only thought of present enjoyment: they took no heed of the future: they saw not that day of reckoning, the bitterness of which they were soon to experience. The people remained in slavery until the Revolution actually occurred; while as to the literature, nearly every year witnessed some new effort to deprive it of that share of liberty which it still retained. Having, in 1764, issued a decree forbidding any work to be published in which questions of government were discussed;791 having, in 1767, made it a capital offence to write a book likely to excite the public mind;792 and having, moreover, denounced the same penalty of death against any one who attacked religion,793 as also against any one who spoke of matters of finance;794– having taken these steps, the rulers of France, very shortly before their final fall, contemplated another measure still more comprehensive. It is, indeed, a singular fact, that only nine years before the Revolution, and when no power on earth could have saved the institutions of the country, the government was so ignorant of the real state of affairs, and so confident that it could quell the spirit which its own despotism had raised, that a proposal was made by an officer of the crown to do away with all the publishers, and not allow any books to be printed except those which were issued from a press paid, appointed, and controlled by the executive magistrate.795 This monstrous proposition, if carried into effect, would of course have invested the king with all the influence which literature can command; it would have been as fatal to the national intellect as the other measures were to national liberty; and it would have consummated the ruin of France, either by reducing its greatest men to complete silence, or else by degrading them into mere advocates of those opinions which the government might wish to propagate.

For these are by no means to be considered as trifling matters, merely interesting to men of letters. In France, in the eighteenth century, literature was the last resource of liberty. In England, if our great authors should prostitute their abilities by inculcating servile opinions, the danger would no doubt be considerable, because other parts of society might find it difficult to escape the contagion. Still, before the corruption had spread, there would be time to stop its course, so long as we possessed those free political institutions, by the mere mention of which the generous imagination of a bold people is easily fired. And although such institutions are the consequence, not the cause, of liberty, they do unquestionably react upon it, and from the force of habit they could for a while survive that from which they originally sprung. So long as a country retains its political freedom, there will always remain associations by which, even in the midst of mental degradation, and out of the depths of the lowest superstition, the minds of men may be recalled to better things. But in France such associations had no existence. In France everything was for the governors and nothing for the governed. There was neither free press, nor free parliament, nor free debates. There were no public meetings; there was no popular suffrage; there was no discussion on the hustings; there was no habeas-corpus act; there was no trial by jury. The voice of liberty, thus silenced in every department of the state, could only be heard in the appeals of those great men, who, by their writings, inspirited the people to resistance. This is the point of view from which we ought to estimate the character of those who are often accused of having wantonly disturbed the ancient fabric.796 They, as well as the people at large, were cruelly oppressed by the crown, the nobles, and the church; and they used their abilities to retaliate the injury. There can be no doubt that this was the best course open to them. There can be no doubt that rebellion is the last remedy against tyranny, and that a despotic system should be encountered by a revolutionary literature. The upper classes were to blame, because they struck the first blow; but we must by no means censure those great men, who, having defended themselves from aggression, eventually succeeded in smiting the government by whom the aggression was originally made.

Without, however, stopping to vindicate their conduct, we have now to consider what is much more important, namely, the origin of that crusade against Christianity, in which, unhappily for France, they were compelled to embark, and the occurrence of which forms the third great antecedent of the French Revolution. A knowledge of the causes of this hostility against Christianity is essential to a right understanding of the philosophy of the eighteenth century, and it will throw some light on the general theory of ecclesiastical power.

It is a circumstance well worthy of remark, that the revolutionary literature which eventually overturned all the institutions of France, was at first directed against those which were religious, rather than against those which were political. The great writers who rose into notice soon after the death of Louis XIV., exerted themselves against spiritual despotism; while the overthrow of secular despotism was left to their immediate successors.797 This is not the course which would be pursued in a healthy state of society; and there is no doubt, that to this peculiarity the crimes and the lawless violence of the French Revolution are in no small degree to be ascribed. It is evident, that in the legitimate progress of a nation, political innovations should keep pace with religious innovations, so that the people may increase their liberty while they diminish their superstition. In France, on the contrary, during nearly forty years, the church was attacked, and the government was spared. The consequence was, that the order and balance of the country were destroyed; the minds of men became habituated to the most daring speculations, while their acts were controlled by the most oppressive despotism; and they felt themselves possessed of capacities which their rulers would not allow them to employ. When, therefore, the French Revolution broke out, it was not a mere rising of ignorant slaves against educated masters, but it was a rising of men in whom the despair caused by slavery was quickened by the resources of advancing knowledge; men who were in that frightful condition when the progress of intellect outstrips the progress of liberty, and when a desire is felt, not only to remove a tyranny, but also to avenge an insult.

There can be no doubt that to this we must ascribe some of the most hideous peculiarities of the French Revolution. It, therefore, becomes a matter of great interest to inquire how it was, that while in England political freedom and religious sceptism have accompanied and aided each other, there should, on the other hand, have taken place in France a vast movement, in which, during nearly forty years, the ablest men neglected the freedom, while they encouraged the scepticism, and diminished the power of the church, without increasing the liberties of the people.

The first reason of this appears to be, the nature of those ideas out of which the French had long constructed the traditions of their glory. A train of circumstances which, when treating of the protective spirit, I attempted to indicate, had secured to the French kings an authority which, by making all classes subordinate to the crown, flattered the popular vanity.798 Hence it was, that in France the feelings of loyalty worked into the national mind deeper than in any other country of Europe, Spain alone excepted.799 The difference between this spirit and that observable in England has been already noticed, and may be still further illustrated by the different ways in which the two nations have dealt with the posthumous reputation of their sovereigns. With the exception of Alfred, who is sometimes called the Great,800 we in England have not sufficiently loved any of our princes to bestow upon them titles expressive of personal admiration. But the French have decorated their kings with every variety of panegyric. Thus, to take only a single name, one king is Louis the Mild, another is Louis the Saint, another is Louis the Just, another is Louis the Great, and the most hopelessly vicious of all was called Louis the Beloved.

These are facts which, insignificant as they seem, form most important materials for real history, since they are unequivocal symptoms of the state of the country in which they exist.801 Their relation to the subject before us is obvious. For, by them, and by the circumstances from which they sprung, an intimate and hereditary association was engendered in the minds of Frenchmen, between the glory of their nation and the personal reputation of their sovereign. The consequence was, that the political conduct of the rulers of France was protected against censure by a fence far more impassable than any that could be erected by the most stringent laws. It was protected by those prejudices which each generation bequeathed to its successor. It was protected by that halo which time had thrown round the oldest monarchy in Europe.802 And above all, it was protected by that miserable national vanity, which made men submit to taxation and to slavery, in order that foreign princes might be dazzled by the splendour of their sovereign, and foreign countries intimidated by the greatness of his victories.

The upshot of all this was, that when, early in the eighteenth century, the intellect of France began to be roused into action, the idea of attacking the abuses of the monarchy never occurred even to the boldest thinker. But, under the protection of the crown, there had grown up another institution, about which less delicacy was felt. The clergy, who for so long a period had been allowed to oppress the consciences of men, were not sheltered by those national associations which surrounded the person of the sovereign; nor had any of them, with the single exception of Bossuet, done much to increase the general reputation of France. Indeed, the French church, though during the reign of Louis XIV. it possessed immense authority, had always exercised it in subordination to the crown, at whose bidding it had not feared to oppose even the pope himself.803 It was, therefore, natural, that in France the ecclesiastical power should be attacked before the temporal power; because, while it was as despotic, it was less influential, and because it was unprotected by those popular traditions which form the principal support of every ancient institution.

These considerations are sufficient to explain why it was that, in this respect, the French and English intellects adopted courses so entirely different. In England, the minds of men, being less hampered with the prejudices of an indiscriminate loyalty, have been able at each successive step in the great progress to direct their doubts and inquiries on politics as well as on religion; and thus establishing their freedom as they diminished their superstition, they have maintained the balance of the national intellect, without allowing to either of its divisions an excessive preponderance. But in France the admiration for royalty had become so great, that this balance was disturbed; the inquiries of men not daring to settle on politics, were fixed on religion, and gave rise to the singular phenomenon of a rich and powerful literature, in which unanimous hostility to the church was unaccompanied by a single voice against the enormous abuses of the state.

There was likewise another circumstance which increased this peculiar tendency. During the reign of Louis XIV. the personal character of the hierarchy had done much to secure their dominion. All the leaders of the church were men of virtue, and many were men of ability. Their conduct, tyrannical as it was, seems to have been conscientious; and the evils which it produced are merely to be ascribed to the gross impolicy of entrusting ecclesiastics with power. But after the death of Louis XIV. a great change took place. The Clergy, from causes which it would be tedious to investigate, became extremely dissolute, and often very ignorant. This made their tyranny more oppressive, because to submit to it was more disgraceful. The great abilities and unblemished morals of men like Bossuet, Fénélon, Bourdaloue, Fléchier, and Mascaron, diminished in some degree the ignominy which is always connected with blind obedience. But when they were succeeded by such bishops and cardinals as Dubois, Lafiteau, Tencin, and others who flourished under the regency, it became difficult to respect the heads of the church, tainted as they were with open and notorious depravity.804 At the same time that there occurred this unfavourable change among the ecclesiastical rulers, there also occurred that immense reaction of which I have endeavoured to trace the early workings. It was therefore, at the very moment when the spirit of inquiry became stronger that the character of the Clergy became more contemptible.805 The great writers who were now rising in France, were moved to indignation when they saw that those who usurped unlimited power over consciences had themselves no consciences at all. It is evident, that every argument which they borrowed from England against ecclesiastical power, would gain additional force when directed against men whose personal unfitness was universally acknowledged.806

Such was the position of the rival parties, when, almost immediately after the death of Louis XIV., there began that great struggle between authority and reason, which is still unfinished, although in the present state of knowledge its result is no longer doubtful. On the one side there was a compact and numerous priesthood, supported by the prescription of centuries and by the authority of the crown. On the other side there was a small body of men, without rank, without wealth, and as yet without reputation, but animated by a love of liberty, and by a just confidence in their own abilities. Unfortunately, they at the very outset committed a serious error. In attacking the clergy, they lost their respect for religion. In their determination to weaken ecclesiastical power, they attempted to undermine the foundations of Christianity. This is deeply to be regretted for their own sake, as well as for its ultimate effects in France; but it must not be imputed to them as a crime, since it was forced on them by the exigencies of their position. They saw the frightful evils which their country was suffering from the institution of priesthood as it then existed; and yet they were told that the preservation of that institution in its actual form was essential to the very being of Christianity. They had always been taught that the interests of the clergy were identical with the interests of religion; how then could they avoid including both clergy and religion in the same hostility? The alternative was cruel; but it was one from which, in common honesty, they had no escape. We, judging these things by another standard, possess a measure which they could not possibly have. We should not now commit such an error, because we know that there is no connexion between any one particular form of priesthood and the interests of Christianity. We know that the clergy are made for the people, and not the people for the clergy. We know that all questions of church government are matters, not of religion, but of policy, and should be settled, not according to traditional dogmas, but according to large views of general expediency. It is because these propositions are now admitted by all enlightened men, that in our country the truths of religion are rarely attacked except by superficial thinkers. If, for instance, we were to find that the existence of our bishops, with their privileges and their wealth, is unfavourable to the progress of society, we should not on that account feel enmity against Christianity; because we should remember that episcopacy is its accident, and not its essential, and that we could do away with the institution and yet retain the religion. In the same way, if we should ever find, what was formerly found in France, that the clergy were tyrannical, this would excite in us an opposition, not to Christianity, but merely to the external form which Christianity assumed. So long as our clergy confine themselves to the beneficent duties of their calling, to the alleviation of pain and distress, either bodily or mental, so long will we respect them as the ministers of peace and of charity. But if they should ever again entrench on the rights of the laity, – if they should ever again interfere with an authoritative voice in the government of the state, – it will then be for the people to inquire, whether the time has not come to effect a revision of the ecclesiastical constitution of the country. This, therefore, is the manner in which we now view these things. What we think of the clergy will depend upon themselves; but will have no connection with what we think of Christianity. We look on the clergy as a body of men who, notwithstanding their disposition to intolerance, and notwithstanding a certain narrowness incidental to their profession, do undoubtedly form part of a vast and noble institution, by which the manners of men have been softened, their sufferings assuaged, their distresses relieved. As long as this institution performs its functions, we are well content to let it stand. If, however, it should be out of repair, or if it should be found inadequate to the shifting circumstances of an advancing society, we retain both the power and the right of remedying its faults; we may, if need be, remove some of its parts; but we would not, we dare not, tamper with those great religious truths which are altogether independent of it; truths which comfort the mind of man, raise him above the instincts of the hour, and infuse into him those lofty aspirations which, revealing to him his own immortality, are the measure and the symptom of a future life.

Unfortunately, this was not the way in which these matters were considered in France. The government of that country, by investing the clergy with great immunities, by treating them as if there were something sacred about their persons, and by punishing as heresy the attacks which were made on them, had established in the national mind an indissoluble connexion between their interests and the interests of Christianity. The consequence was, that when the struggle began, the ministers of religion, and religion itself, were both assailed with equal zeal. The ridicule, and even the abuse, heaped on the clergy, will surprise no one who is acquainted with the provocation that had been received. And although, in the indiscriminate onslaught which soon followed, Christianity was, for a time, subjected to a fate which ought to have been reserved for those who called themselves her ministers; this, while it moves us to regret, ought by no means to excite our astonishment. The destruction of Christianity in France was the necessary result of those opinions which bound up the destiny of the national priesthood with the destiny of the national religion. If both were connected by the same origin, both should fall in the same ruin. If that which is the tree of life, were, in reality, so corrupt that it could only bear poisonous fruits, then it availed little to lop off the boughs and cut down the branches; but it were better, by one mighty effort, to root it up from the ground, and secure the health of society by stopping the very source of the contagion.

These are reflections which must make us pause before we censure the deistical writers of the eighteenth century. So perverted, however, are the reasonings to which some minds are accustomed, that those who judge them most uncharitably are precisely those whose conduct forms their best excuse. Such are the men who, by putting forth the most extravagant claims in favour of the clergy, are seeking to establish the principle, by the operation of which the clergy were destroyed. Their scheme for restoring the old system of ecclesiastical authority depends on the supposition of its divine origin: a supposition which, if inseparable from Christianity, will at once justify the infidelity which they hotly attack. The increase of the power of the clergy is incompatible with the interests of civilization. If, therefore, any religion adopts as its creed the necessity of such an increase, it becomes the bounden duty of every friend to humanity to do his utmost, either to destroy the creed, or failing in that, to overturn the religion. If pretensions of this sort are an essential part of Christianity, it behoves us at once to make our choice; since the only option can be, between abjuring our faith or sacrificing our liberty. Fortunately, we are not driven to so hard a strait; and we know that these claims are as false in theory, as they would be pernicious in practice. It is, indeed, certain, that if they were put into execution, the clergy, though they might enjoy a momentary triumph, would have consummated their own ruin, by preparing the way among us for scenes as disastrous as those which occurred in France.

The truth is, that what is most blamed in the great French writers, was the natural consequence of the development of their age. Never was there a more striking illustration of the social law already noticed, that, if government will allow religious scepticism to run its course, it will issue in great things, and will hasten the march of civilization; but that, if an attempt is made to put it down with a strong hand, it may, no doubt, be repressed for a time, but eventually will rise with such force as to endanger the foundation of society. In England, we adopted the first of these courses; in France, they adopted the second. In England, men were allowed to exercise their own judgment on the most sacred subjects; and, as soon as the diminution of their credulity had made them set bounds to the power of the clergy, toleration immediately followed, and the national prosperity has never been disturbed. In France, the authority of the clergy was increased by a superstitious king; faith usurped the place of reason, not a whisper of doubt was allowed to be heard, and the spirit of inquiry was stifled, until the country fell to the brink of ruin. If Louis XIV. had not interfered with the natural progress, France, like England, would have continued to advance. After his death, it was, indeed, too late to save the clergy, against whom all the intellect of the nation was soon arrayed. But the force of the storm might still have been broken, if the government of Louis XV. had conciliated what it was impossible to resist; and, instead of madly attempting to restrain opinions by laws, had altered the laws to suit the opinions. If the rulers of France, instead of exerting themselves to silence the national literature, had yielded to its suggestions, and had receded before the pressure of advancing knowledge, the fatal collision would have been avoided; because the passions which caused the collision would have been appeased. In such case, the church would have fallen somewhat earlier; but the state itself would have been saved. In such case, France would, in all probability, have secured her liberties, without increasing her crimes; and that great country, which, from her position and resources, ought to be the pattern of European civilization, might have escaped the ordeal of those terrible atrocities, through which she was compelled to pass, and from the effects of which she has not yet recovered.

It must, I think, be admitted that, during, at all events, the first half of the reign of Louis XV., it was possible, by timely concessions, still to preserve the political institutions of France. Reforms there must have been; and reforms too of a large and uncompromising character. So far, however, as I am able to understand the real history of that period, I make no doubt that, if these had been granted in a frank and ungrudging spirit, everything could have been retained necessary for the only two objects at which government ought to aim, namely, the preservation of order, and the prevention of crime. But, by the middle of the reign of Louis XV., or, at all events, immediately afterwards, the state of affairs began to alter; and, in the course of a few years, the spirit of France became so democratic, that it was impossible even to delay a revolution, which, in the preceding generation, might have been altogether averted. This remarkable change is connected with that other change already noticed, by virtue of which, the French intellect began, about the same period, to direct its hostility against the state, rather than, as heretofore, against the church. As soon as this, which may be called the second epoch of the eighteenth century, had been fairly entered, the movement became irresistible. Event after event followed each other in rapid succession; each one linked to its antecedent, and the whole forming a tendency impossible to withstand. It was in vain that the government, yielding some points of real importance, adopted measures by which the church was controlled, the power of the clergy diminished, and even the order of the jesuits suppressed. It was in vain that the crown now called to its councils, for the first time, men imbued with the spirit of reform; men, like Turgot and Necker, whose wise and liberal proposals would, in calmer days, have stilled the agitation of the popular mind. It was in vain that promises were made to equalize the taxes, to redress some of the most crying grievances, to repeal some of the most obnoxious laws. It was even in vain that the states-general were summoned; and that thus, after the lapse of a hundred and seventy years, the people were again admitted to take part in the management of their own affairs. All these things were in vain; because the time for treaty had gone by, and the time for battle had come. The most liberal concessions that could possibly have been devised would have failed to avert that deadly struggle, which the course of preceding events made inevitable. For the measure of that age was now full. The upper classes, intoxicated by the long possession of power, had provoked the crisis; and it was needful that they should abide the issue. There was no time for mercy; there was no pause, no compassion, no sympathy. The only question that remained was, to see whether they who had raised the storm could ride the whirlwind; or, whether it was not rather likely that they should be the first victims of that frightful hurricane, in which, for a moment, laws, religion, morals, all perished, the lowest vestiges of humanity were effaced, and the civilization of France not only submerged, but, as it then appeared, irretrievably ruined.