History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3

Scarcely was the war in Béarn brought to an end, when the Protestants determined on making a great effort in the west of France.[162 - On the connexion between the proceedings of Béarn and those of Rochelle, compare Mém. de Montglat, vol. i. p. 33, with Mém. de Richelieu, vol. ii. p. 113, and Mém. de Rohan, vol. i. p. 446.] The seat of this new struggle was Rochelle, which was one of the strongest fortresses in Europe, and was entirely in the hands of the Protestants,[163 - Their first church was established in 1556 (Ranke's Civil Wars in France, vol. i. p. 360); but, by the reign of Charles IX. the majority of the inhabitants were Protestants. See De Thou, Hist. Univ. vol. iv. p. 263, vol. v. p. 379, ad. ann. 1562 and 1567.] who had grown wealthy, partly by their own industry and partly by following the occupation of public pirates.[164 - Or, as M. Capefigue courteously puts it, ‘les Rochelois ne respectaient pas toujours les pavillons amis.’ Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 332. A delicate circumlocution, unknown to Mezeray who says (Hist. de France, vol. iii. p. 426) in 1587: ‘et les Rochelois, qui par le moyen du commerce et de la piraterie,’ &c.] In this city, which they believed to be impregnable,[165 - ‘Ceste place, que les huguenots tenoient quasy pour imprenable.’ Mém. de Fontenay Mareuil, vol. i. p. 512. ‘Cette orgueilleuse cité, qui se croyoit imprenable.’ Mém. de Montglat, vol. i. p. 45. Howell, who visited Rochelle in 1620 and 1622, was greatly struck by its strength. Howell's Letters, pp. 46, 47, 108. At p. 204, he calls it, in his barbarous style, ‘the chiefest propugnacle of the Protestants there.’ For a description of the defences of Rochelle, see De Thou, Hist. Univ. vol. vi. pp. 615–617; and some details worth consulting in Mezeray, Hist. de France, vol. ii. pp. 977–980.] they, in December, 1620, held a Great Assembly, to which their spiritual chiefs flocked from all parts of France. It was soon evident that their party was now governed by men who were bent on the most violent measures. Their great secular leaders were, as we have already seen, gradually falling off; and, by this time, there only remained two of much ability, Rohan and Mornay, both of whom saw the inexpediency of their proceedings, and desired that the assembly should peaceably separate.[166 - Bazin, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 139; Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxii. pp. 480, 481. Rohan himself says (Mém. vol. i. p. 446): ‘je m'efforçai de la séparer.’ In a remarkable letter, which Mornay wrote ten years before this, he shows his apprehensions of the evil that would result from the increasing violence of his party; and he advises, ‘que nostre zèle soit tempéré de prudence.’ Mém. et Correspond. vol. xi. p. 122; and as to the divisions this caused among the Protestants, see pp. 154, 510, vol. xii. pp. 82, 255; and Sully, Œconomies Royales, vol. ix. pp. 350, 435.] But the authority of the clergy was irresistible; and, by their prayers and exhortations, they easily gained over the ordinary citizens, who were then a gross and uneducated body.[167 - ‘Les seigneurs du parti, et surtout le sage Duplessis Mornay, firent ce qu'ils purent pour engager les réformés à ne pas provoquer l'autorité royale pour des causes qui ne pouvoient justifier une guerre civile; mais le pouvoir dans le parti avoit passé presque absolument aux bourgeois des villes et aux ministres qui se livroient aveuglement à leur fanatisme, et à leur orgueil, et qui étoient d'autant plus applaudis qu'ils montroient plus de violence.’ Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxii. p. 478.] Under their influence, the Assembly adopted a course which rendered civil war inevitable. Their first act was an edict, by which they at once confiscated all the property belonging to Catholic churches.[168 - ‘On confisqua les biens des églises catholiques.’ Lavallée des Français, vol. iii. p. 85: and see Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 258.] They then caused a great seal to be struck; under the authority of which they ordered that the people should be armed, and taxes collected from them for the purpose of defending their religion.[169 - ‘Ils donnent des commissions d'armer et de faire des impositions sur le peuple, et ce sous leur grand sceau, qui étoit une Religion appuyée sur une croix, ayant en la main un livre de l'évangile, foulant aux pieds un vieux squelette, qu'ils disoient être l'église romaine.’ Mém. de Richelieu, vol. ii. p. 120. M. Capefigue (Richelieu, vol. i. p. 259) says that this seal still exists; but it is not even alluded to by a late writer (Felice, Hist. of the Protestants of France, p. 240), who systematically suppresses every fact unfavourable to his own party.] Finally, they drew up the regulations, and organized the establishment of what they called the Reformed Churches of France and of Béarn; and, with a view to facilitate the exercise of their spiritual jurisdiction, they parcelled out France into eight circles, to each of which there was allotted a separate general, who, however, was to be accompanied by a clergyman, since the administration, in all its parts, was held responsible to that ecclesiastical assembly which called it into existence.[170 - Le Vassor, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. iv. p. 157; Bazin, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 145; Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. pp. 353–355; Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 258.]

Such were the forms and pomp of authority assumed by the spiritual leaders of the French Protestants; men by nature destined to obscurity, and whose abilities were so despicable, that, notwithstanding their temporary importance, they have left no name in history. These insignificant priests, who, at the best, were only fit to mount the pulpit of a country village, now arrogated to themselves the right of ordering the affairs of France, imposing taxes upon Frenchmen, confiscating property, raising troops, levying war; and all this for the sake of propagating a creed, which was scouted by the country at large as a foul and mischievous heresy.

In the face of these inordinate pretensions, it was evident that the French government had no choice, except to abdicate its functions, or else take arms in its own defence.[171 - Even Mosheim, who, as a Protestant, was naturally prejudiced in favour of the Huguenots, says, that they had established ‘imperium in imperio;’ and he ascribes to the violence of their rulers the war of 1621. Mosheim's Eccles. Hist. vol. ii. pp. 237, 238.] Whatever may be the popular notion respecting the necessary intolerance of the Catholics, it is an indisputable fact, that, early in the seventeenth century, they displayed in France a spirit of forbearance, and a Christian charity, to which the Protestants could make no pretence. During the twenty-two years which elapsed between the Edict of Nantes and the Assembly of Rochelle, the government, notwithstanding repeated provocations, never attacked the Protestants;[172 - Compare Mém. de Fontenay Mareuil, vol. ii. p. 88, with Flassan, Hist. de la Diplomatie Française, vol. ii. p. 351.] nor did they make any attempt to destroy the privileges of a sect, which they were bound to consider heretical, and the extirpation of which had been deemed by their fathers to be one of the first duties of a Christian statesman.

The war that now broke out lasted seven years, and was uninterrupted, except by the short peace, first of Montpelier, and afterwards of Rochelle; neither of which, however, was very strictly preserved. But the difference in the views and intentions of the two parties corresponded to the difference between the classes which governed them. The Protestants, being influenced mainly by the clergy, made their object religious domination. The Catholics being led by statesmen, aimed at temporal advantages. Thus it was, that circumstances had in France so completely obliterated the original tendency of these two great sects, that, by a singular metamorphosis, the secular principle was now represented by the Catholics, and the theological principle by the Protestants. The authority of the clergy, and therefore the interests of superstition, were upheld by that very party which owed its origin to the diminution of both; they were, on the other hand, attacked by a party whose success had hitherto depended on the increase of both. If the Catholics triumphed, the ecclesiastical power would be weakened; if the Protestants triumphed, it would be strengthened. Of this fact, so far as the Protestants are concerned, I have just given ample proof, collected from their proceedings, and from the language of their own synods. And that the opposite, or secular principle, predominated among the Catholics, is evident, not only from their undeviating policy in the reigns of Henry IV. and Louis XIII., but also from another circumstance worthy of note. For, their motives were so obvious, and gave such scandal to the church, that the pope, as the great protector of religion, thought himself bound to reprehend that disregard of theological interests which they displayed, and which he considered to be a crying and unpardonable offence. In 1622, only one year after the struggle between the Protestants and Catholics had begun, he strongly remonstrated with the French government upon the notorious indecency of which they were guilty, in carrying on war against heretics, not for the purpose of suppressing the heresy, but merely with a view of procuring for the state those temporal advantages which, in the opinion of all pious men, ought to be regarded as of subordinate importance.[173 - See the paper of instructions from Pope Gregory XV. in the appendix to Ranke, die Röm. Päpste, vol. iii. pp. 173, 174: ‘Die Hauptsache aber ist was er dem Könige von Frankreich vorstellen soll: 1, dass er ja nicht den Verdacht auf sich laden werde als verfolge er die Protestanten bloss aus Staatsinteresse.’ Bazin (Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 320) says, that Richelieu attacked the Huguenots ‘sans aucune idée de persécution religieuse.’ See, to the same effect, Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 274; and the candid admissions of the Protestant Le Vassor, in his Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. v. p. 11.]

If, at this juncture, the Protestants had carried the day, the loss to France would have been immense, perhaps irreparable. For no one, who is acquainted with the temper and character of the French Calvinists, can doubt, that if they had obtained possession of the government, they would have revived those religious persecutions which, so far as their power extended, they had already attempted to enforce. Not only in their writings, but even in the edicts of their assemblies, we find ample proof of that meddling and intolerant spirit which, in every age, has characterized ecclesiastical legislation. Indeed, such a spirit is the legitimate consequence of the fundamental assumption from which theological lawgivers usually start. The clergy are taught to consider that their paramount duty is to preserve the purity of the faith, and guard it against the invasions of heresy. Whenever, therefore, they rise to power, it almost invariably happens, that they carry into politics the habits they have contracted in their profession; and having long been accustomed to consider religious error as criminal, they now naturally attempt to make it penal. And as all the European countries have, in the period of their ignorance, been once ruled by the clergy, just so do we find in the law-books of every land those traces of their power which the progress of knowledge is gradually effacing. We find the professors of the dominant creed enacting laws against the professors of other creeds: laws sometimes to burn them, sometimes to exile them, sometimes to take away their civil rights, sometimes only to take away their political rights. These are the different gradations through which persecution passes; and by observing which, we may measure, in any country, the energy of the ecclesiastical spirit. At the same time, the theory by which such measures are supported generally gives rise to other measures of a somewhat different, though of an analogous character. For, by extending the authority of law to opinions as well as to acts, the basis of legislation becomes dangerously enlarged; the individuality and independence of each man are invaded; and encouragement is given to the enactment of intrusive and vexatious regulations, which are supposed to perform for morals the service that the other class of laws performs for religion. Under pretence of favouring the practice of virtue, and maintaining the purity of society, men are troubled in their most ordinary pursuits, in the commonest occurrences of life, in their amusements, nay, even in the very dress they may be inclined to wear. That this is what has actually been done, must be known to whoever has looked into the writings of the fathers, into the canons of Christian councils, into the different systems of ecclesiastical law, or into the sermons of the earlier clergy. Indeed, all this is so natural, that regulations, conceived in the same spirit, were drawn up for the government of Geneva by the Calvinist clergy, and for the government of England by Archbishop Cranmer and his coadjutors; while a tendency, precisely identical, may be observed in the legislation of the Puritans, and to give a still later instance, in that of the Methodists. It is, therefore, not surprising that, in France, the Protestant clergy, having great power among their own party, should enforce a similar discipline. Thus, to mention only a few examples, they forbade any one to go to a theatre, or even to witness the performance of private theatricals.[174 - Quick's Synodicon in Gallia, vol. i. p. 62.] They looked upon dancing as an ungodly amusement, and, therefore, they not only strictly prohibited it, but they ordered that all dancing-masters should be admonished by the spiritual power, and desired to abandon so unchristian a profession. If, however, the admonition failed in effecting its purpose, the dancing-masters, thus remaining obdurate, were to be excommunicated.[175 - Ibid. vol. i. pp. lvii. 17, 131, vol. ii. p. 174.] With the same pious care did the clergy superintend other matters equally important. In one of their synods, they ordered that all persons should abstain from wearing gay apparel, and should arrange their hair with becoming modesty.[176 - ‘And both sexes are required to keep modesty in their hair,’ &c. Ibid. vol. i. p. 119.] In another synod, they forbade women to paint; and they declared that if, after this injunction, any woman persisted in painting, she should not be allowed to receive the sacrament.[177 - Quick's Synodicon, vol. i. p. 165.] To their own clergy, as the instructors and shepherds of the flock, there was paid an attention still more scrupulous. The ministers of the Word were permitted to teach Hebrew, because Hebrew is a sacred dialect, uncontaminated by profane writers. But the Greek language, which contains all the philosophy and nearly all the wisdom of antiquity, was to be discouraged, its study laid aside, its professorship suppressed.[178 - The synod of Alez, in 1620, says, ‘A minister may at the same time be professor in divinity and of the Hebrew tongue. But it is not seemly for him to profess the Greek also, because the most of his employment will be taken up in the exposition of Pagan and profane authors, unless he be discharged from the ministry.’ Quick's Synodicon, vol. ii. p. 57. Three years later, the synod of Charenton suppressed altogether the Greek professorships, ‘as being superfluous and of small profit.’ Ibid. vol. ii. p. 115.] And, in order that the mind might not be distracted from spiritual things, the study of chemistry was likewise forbidden; such a mere earthly pursuit being incompatible with the habits of the sacred profession.[179 - The synod of St. Maixant, in 1609, orders that ‘colloquies and synods shall have a watchful eye over those ministers who study chemistry, and grievously reprove and censure them.’ Ibid. vol. i. p. 314.] Lest, however, in spite of these precautions, knowledge should still creep in among the Protestants, other measures were taken to prevent even its earliest approach. The clergy, entirely forgetting that right of private judgment upon which their sect was founded, became so anxious to protect the unwary from error, that they forbade any person to print or publish a work without the sanction of the church; in other words, without the sanction of the clergy themselves.[180 - Ibid. vol. i. pp. 140, 194, vol. ii. p. 110.] When, by these means, they had destroyed the possibility of free inquiry, and, so far as they were able, had put a stop to the acquisition of all real knowledge, they proceeded to guard against another circumstance to which their measures had given rise. For, several of the Protestants, seeing that under such a system, it was impossible to educate their families with advantage, sent their children to some of those celebrated Catholic colleges, where alone a sound education could then be obtained. But the clergy, so soon as they heard of this practice, put an end to it, by excommunicating the offending parents;[181 - Quick's Synodicon, vol. i. pp. lv. 235, 419, vol. ii. pp. 201, 509, 515. Compare Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. p. 473.] and to this there was added an order forbidding them to admit into their own private houses any tutor who professed the Catholic religion.[182 - Quick's Synodicon, vol. ii. p. 81.] Such was the way in which the French Protestants were watched over and protected by their spiritual masters. Even the minutest matters were not beneath the notice of these great legislators. They ordered that no person should go to a ball or masquerade;[183 - Ibid. vol. ii. p. 174.] nor ought any Christian to look at the tricks of conjurors, or at the famous game of goblets, or at the puppet-show; neither was he to be present at morris-dances; for all such amusements should be suppressed by the magistrates, because they excite curiosity, cause expense, waste time.[184 - ‘All Christian magistrates are advised not in the least to suffer them, because it feeds foolish curiosity, puts upon unnecessary expenses, and wastes time,’ Ibid. vol. i. p. 194.] Another thing to be attended to, is the names that are bestowed in baptism. A child may have two christian names, though one is preferable.[185 - This was a very knotty question for the theologians; but it was at length decided in the affirmative by the synod of Saumur: ‘On the 13th article of the same chapter, the deputies of Poicton demanded, whether two names might be given a child at baptism? To which it was replied: The thing was indifferent; however, parents were advised to observe herein Christian simplicity.’ Ibid. vol. i. p. 178.] Great care, however, is to be observed in their selection. They ought to be taken from the Bible, but they ought not to be Baptist or Angel; neither should any infant receive a name which has been formerly used by the Pagans.[186 - Ibid. vol. i. pp. xlvi. 25.] When the children are grown up, there are other regulations to which they must be subject. The clergy declared that the faithful must by no means let their hair grow long, lest by so doing they indulge in the luxury of ‘lascivious curls.’[187 - I quote the language of the synod of Castres, in 1626. Ibid. vol. ii. p. 174.] They are to make their garments in such a manner as to avoid ‘the new-fangled fashions of the world:’ they are to have no tassels to their dress: their gloves must be without silk and ribbons: they are to abstain from fardingales: they are to beware of wide sleeves.[188 - Quick's Synodicon, vol. i. p. 165, vol. ii. pp. 7, 174, 574, 583. In the same way, the Spanish clergy, early in the present century, attempted to regulate the dress of women. See Doblado's Letters from Spain, pp. 202–205: a good illustration of the identity of the ecclesiastical spirit, whether it be Catholic or Protestant.]

Those readers who have not studied the history of ecclesiastical legislation, will perhaps be surprised to find, that men of gravity, men who had reached the years of discretion, and were assembled together in solemn council, should evince such a prying and puerile spirit; that they should display such miserable and childish imbecility. But, whoever will take a wider survey of human affairs, will be inclined to blame, not so much the legislators, as the system of which the legislators formed a part. For as to the men themselves, they merely acted after their kind. They only followed the traditions in which they were bred. By virtue of their profession, they had been accustomed to hold certain views, and, when they rose to power, it was natural that they should carry those views into effect; thus transplanting into the law-book the maxims they had already preached in the pulpit. Whenever, therefore, we read of meddling, inquisitive, and vexatious regulations imposed by ecclesiastical authority, we should remember, that they are but the legitimate result of the ecclesiastical spirit; and that the way to remedy such grievances, or to prevent their occurrence, is not by vainly labouring to change the tendencies of that class from whence they proceed, but rather by confining the class within its proper limits, by jealously guarding against its earliest encroachments, by taking every opportunity of lessening its influence, and finally, when the progress of society will justify so great a step, by depriving it of that political and legislative power which, though gradually falling from its hands, it is, even in the most civilized countries, still allowed in some degree to retain.

But, setting aside these general considerations, it will, at all events, be admitted, that I have collected sufficient evidence to indicate what would have happened to France, if the Protestants had obtained the upper hand. After the facts which I have brought forward, no one can possibly doubt, that if such a misfortune had occurred, the liberal, and, considering the age, the enlightened policy of Henry IV. and Louis XIII. would have been destroyed, in order to make way for that gloomy and austere system, which, in every age and in every country, has been found to be the natural fruit of ecclesiastical power. To put, therefore, the question in its proper form, instead of saying that there was a war between hostile creeds, we should rather say that there was a war between rival classes. It was a contest, not so much between the Catholic religion and the Protestant religion, as between Catholic laymen and Protestant clergy. It was a struggle between temporal interests and theological interests, – between the spirit of the present and the spirit of the past. And the point now at issue was, whether France should be governed by the civil power or by the spiritual power, – whether she should be ruled according to the large views of secular statesmen, or according to the narrow notions of a factious and intolerant priesthood.

The Protestants having the great advantage of being the aggressive party, and being, moreover, inflamed by a religious zeal unknown to their opponents, might, under ordinary circumstances, have succeeded in their hazardous attempt; or, at all events, they might have protracted the struggle for an indefinite period. But, fortunately for France, in 1624, only three years after the war began, Richelieu assumed the direction of the government. He had for some years been the secret adviser of the queen-mother, into whose mind he had always inculcated the necessity of complete toleration.[189 - On his influence over her in and after 1616, see Le Vassor, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 508; Mém. de Pontchartrain, vol. ii. p. 240; Mém. de Montglat, vol. i. p. 23; and compare, in Mém. de Richelieu, vol. ii. pp. 198–200, the curious arguments which he put in her mouth respecting the impolicy of making war on the Protestants.] When placed at the head of affairs, he pursued the same policy, and attempted in every way to conciliate the Protestants. The clergy of his own party were constantly urging him to exterminate the heretics, whose presence they thought polluted France.[190 - In 1625, the Archbishop of Lyons wrote to Richelieu, urging him ‘assiéger la Rochelle, et châtier ou, pour mieux dire, exterminer les huguenots, toute autre affaire cessante.’ Bazin, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 276. See also, on the anxiety of the clergy in the reign of Louis XIII. to destroy the Protestants, Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. pp. 155, 166, 232, 245, 338, 378, 379, 427; Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxii. p. 485.] But Richelieu, having only secular objects, refused to embitter the contest by turning it into a religious war. He was determined to chastise the rebellion, but he would not punish the heresy. Even while the war was raging, he would not revoke those edicts of toleration by which the full liberty of religious worship was granted to the Protestants. And when they, in 1626, showed signs of compunction, or at all events of fear, he publicly confirmed the Edict of Nantes,[191 - He confirmed it in March 1626; Flassan, Hist. de la Diplomatie Française, vol. ii. p. 399; and also in the preceding January. See Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. appendix, pp. 77, 81.] and he granted them peace; although, as he says, he knew that by doing so he should fall under the suspicion of those ‘who so greatly affected the name of zealous Catholics.’[192 - ‘Ceux qui affectent autant le nom de zélés catholiques.’ Mém. de Richelieu, vol. iii. p. 16; and at p. 2, he, in the same year (1626), says, that he was opposed by those who had ‘un trop ardent et précipité désir de ruiner les huguenots.’] A few months afterwards, war again broke out; and then it was that Richelieu determined on that celebrated siege of Rochelle, which, if brought to a successful issue, was sure to be a decisive blow against the French Protestants. That he was moved to this hazardous undertaking solely by secular considerations is evident, not only from the general spirit of his preceding policy, but also from his subsequent conduct. With the details of this famous siege history is not concerned, as such matters have no value except to military readers. It is enough to say that, in 1628, Rochelle was taken; and the Protestants, who had been induced by their clergy[193 - Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxiii. p. 66.] to continue to resist long after relief was hopeless, and who, in consequence, had suffered the most dreadful hardships, were obliged to surrender at discretion.[194 - On the sufferings of the inhabitants, see extract from the Dupuis Mss., in Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 351. Fontenay Mareuil, who was an eye-witness, says, that the besieged, in some instances, ate their own children; and that the burial-grounds were guarded, to prevent the corpses from being dug up and turned into food. Mém. de Fontenay Mareuil, vol. ii. p. 119.] The privileges of the town were revoked, and its magistrates removed; but the great minister by whom these things were effected, still abstained from that religious persecution to which he was urged.[195 - And in which he would most assuredly have been supported by Louis XIII.; of whom an intelligent writer says ‘Il étoit plein de piété et de zèle pour le service de Dieu et pour la grandeur de l'église; et sa plus sensible joie, en prenant La Rochelle et les autres places qu'il prit, fut de penser qu'il chasseroit de son royaume les hérétiques, et qu'il le purgeroit par cette voie des différentes religions qui gâtent et infectent l'église de Dieu.’ Mém. de Motteville, vol. i. p. 425, edit. Petitot, 1824.] He granted to the Protestants the toleration which he had offered at an earlier period, and he formally conceded the free exercise of their public worship.[196 - Bazin, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 423; Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxiii. p. 77; Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 357; Mém. de Fontenay Mareuil, vol. ii. p. 122.] But, such was their infatuation, that because he likewise restored the exercise of the Catholic religion, and thus gave to the conquerors the same liberty that he had granted to the conquered, the Protestants murmured at the indulgence; they could not bear the idea that their eyes should be offended by the performance of Popish rites.[197 - ‘Les huguenots murmuraient de voir le rétablissement de l'église romaine au sein de leur ville.’ Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 359.] And their indignation waxed so high, that in the next year they, in another part of France, again rose in arms. As, however, they were now stripped of their principal resources, they were easily defeated; and, their existence as a political faction being destroyed, they were, in reference to their religion, treated by Richelieu in the same manner as before.[198 - ‘Dès qu'il ne s'agit plus d'un parti politique, il concéda, comme à la Rochelle, la liberté de conscience et la faculté de prêche.’ Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 381. Compare Smedley's Hist. of the Reformed Religion in France, vol. iii. p. 201, with Mémoires de Richelieu, vol. iv. p. 484.] To the Protestants generally, he confirmed the privilege of preaching and of performing the other ceremonies of their creed.[199 - The Edict of Nismes, in 1629, an important document, will be found in Quick's Synodicon, vol. i. pp. xcvi.–ciii., and in Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. appendix, pp. 92–98; and a commentary on it in Bazin, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. iii. pp. 36–38. M. Bazin, unfortunately for the reputation of this otherwise valuable work, never quotes his authorities.] To their leader, Rohan, he granted an amnesty, and, a few years afterwards, employed him in important public services. After this, the hopes of the party were destroyed; they never again rose in arms, nor do we find any mention of them until a much later period, when they were barbarously persecuted by Louis XIV.[200 - In 1633, their own historian says: ‘les Réformez ne faisoient plus de party.’ Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. p. 532. Compare Sir Thomas Hanmer's account of France in 1648, in Bunbury's Correspond. of Hanmer, p. 309, Lond. 1838.] But from all such intolerance Richelieu sedulously abstained; and having now cleared the land from rebellion, he embarked in that vast scheme of foreign policy, of which I have already given some account, and in which he clearly showed that his proceedings against the Protestants had not been caused by hatred of their religious tenets. For, the same party which he attacked at home, he supported abroad. He put down the French Protestants, because they were a turbulent faction that troubled the state, and wished to suppress the exercise of all opinions unfavourable to themselves. But so far from carrying on a crusade against their religion, he, as I have already observed, encouraged it in other countries; and, though a bishop of the Catholic church, he did not hesitate, by treaties, by money, and by force of arms, to support the Protestants against the House of Austria, maintain the Lutherans against the Emperor of Germany, and uphold the Calvinists against the King of Spain.

I have thus endeavoured to draw a slight, though, I trust, a clear outline, of the events which took place in France during the reign of Louis XIII., and particularly during that part of it which included the administration of Richelieu. But such occurrences, important as they are, only formed a single phase of that larger development which was now displaying itself in nearly every branch of the national intellect. They were the mere political expression of that bold and sceptical spirit which cried havoc to the prejudices and superstitions of men. For, the government of Richelieu was successful, as well as progressive; and no government can unite these two qualities, unless its measures harmonize with the feelings and temper of the age. Such an administration, though it facilitates progress, is not the cause of it, but is rather its measure and symptom. The cause of the progress lies far deeper, and is governed by the general tendency of the time. And as the different tendencies observable in successive generations depend on the difference in their knowledge, it is evident, that we can only understand the working of the tendencies, by taking a wide view of the amount and character of the knowledge. To comprehend, therefore, the real nature of the great advance made during the reign of Louis XIII., it becomes necessary that I should lay before the reader some evidence respecting those higher and more important facts, which historians are apt to neglect, but without which the study of the past is an idle and trivial pursuit, and history itself a barren field, which, bearing no fruit, is unworthy of the labour that is wasted on the cultivation of so ungrateful a soil.

It is, indeed, a very observable fact, that while Richelieu, with such extraordinary boldness, was secularizing the whole system of French politics, and by his disregard of ancient interests, was setting at naught the most ancient traditions, a course precisely similar was being pursued, in a still higher department, by a man greater than he; by one, who, if I may express my own opinion, is the most profound among the many eminent thinkers France has produced. I speak of Réné Descartes, of whom the least that can be said is, that he effected a revolution more decisive than has ever been brought about by any other single mind. With his mere physical discoveries we are not now concerned, because in this Introduction I do not pretend to trace the progress of science, except in those epochs which indicate a new turn in the habits of national thought. But I may remind the reader, that he was the first who successfully applied algebra to geometry;[201 - Thomas (Eloge, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. p. 32) says, ‘cet instrument, c'est Descartes qui l'a créé; c'est l'application de l'algèbre à la géométrie.’ And this, in the highest sense, is strictly true; for although Vieta and two or three others in the sixteenth century had anticipated this step, we owe entirely to Descartes the magnificent discovery of the possibility of applying algebra to the geometry of curves, he being undoubtedly the first who expressed them by algebraic equations. See Montucla, Hist. des Mathémat. vol. i. pp. 704, 705, vol. ii. p. 120, vol. iii. p. 64.] that he pointed out the important law of the sines;[202 - The statements of Huygens and of Isaac Vossius to the effect that Descartes had seen the papers of Snell before publishing his discovery, are unsupported by any direct evidence; at least none of the historians of science, so far as I am aware, have brought forward any. So strong, however, is the disposition of mankind at large to depreciate great men, and so general is the desire to convict them of plagiarism, that this charge, improbable in itself, and only resting on the testimony of two envious rivals, has been not only revived by modern writers, but has been, even in our own time, spoken of as a well-established and notorious fact! The flimsy basis of this accusation is clearly exposed by M. Bordas Demoulin, in his valuable work Le Cartesianisme, Paris, 1843, vol. ii. pp. 9–12; while, on the other side of the question, I refer with regret to Sir D. Brewster on the Progress of Optics, Second Report of British Association, pp. 309, 310; and to Whewell's Hist. of the Inductive Sciences, vol. ii. pp. 379, 502, 503.] that in an age in which optical instruments were extremely imperfect, he discovered the changes to which light is subjected in the eye by the crystalline lens;[203 - See the interesting remarks of Sprengel (Hist. de la Médecine, vol. iv. pp. 271, 272), and Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iv. pp. 371 seq. What makes this the more observable is this: that the study of the crystalline lens was neglected long after the death of Descartes, and no attempt made for more than a hundred years to complete his views by ascertaining its intimate structure. Indeed, it is said (Thomson's Animal Chemistry, p. 512) that the crystalline lens and the two humours were first analyzed in 1802. Compare Simon's Animal Chemistry, vol. ii. pp. 419–421; Henle, Traité d'Anatomie, vol. i. p. 357; Lepelletier, Physiologie Médicale, vol. iii. p. 160; Mayo's Human Physiol., p. 279; Blainville, Physiol. comparée, vol. iii. pp. 325–328; none of whom refer to any analysis earlier than the nineteenth century. I notice this partly as a contribution to the history of our knowledge, and partly as proving how slow men have been in following Descartes, and in completing his views; for, as M. Blanville justly observes, the chemical laws of the lens must be understood, before we can exhaustively generalize the optical laws of its refraction; so that, in fact, the researches of Berzelius on the eye are complemental to those of Descartes. The theory of the limitation of the crystalline lens according to the descending scale of the animal kingdom, and the connexion between its development and a general increase of sensuous perception, seem to have been little studied; but Dr. Grant (Comparative Anatomy, p. 252) thinks that the lens exists in some of the rotifera; while in regard to its origin, I find a curious statement in Müller's Physiology, vol. i. p. 450, that after its removal in mammals, it has been reproduced by its matrix, the capsule. (If this can be relied on, it will tell against the suggestion of Schwann, who supposes, in his Microscopical Researches, 1847, pp. 87, 88, that its mode of life is vegetable, and that it is not ‘a secretion of its capsule’). As to its probable existence in the hydrozoa, see Rymer Jones's Animal Kingdom, 1855, p. 96, ‘regarded either as a crystalline lens, or an otolithe;’ and as to its embryonic development, see Burdach, Traité de Physiologie, vol. iii. pp. 435–438.] that he directed attention to the consequences resulting from the weight of the atmosphere;[204 - Torricelli first weighed the air in 1643. Brande's Chemistry, vol. i. p. 360; Leslie's Natural Philosophy, p. 419: but there is a letter from Descartes, written as early as 1631, ‘où il explique le phénomène de la suspension du mercure dans un tuyau fermé par en haut, en l'attribuant au poids de la colonne d'air élevée jusqu'au delà des nues.’ Bordas Demoulin, le Cartésianisme, vol. i. p. 311. And Montucla (Hist. des Mathémat. vol. ii. p. 205) says of Descartes, ‘nous avons des preuves que ce philosophe reconnut avant Torricelli la pesanteur de l'air.’ Descartes himself says, that he suggested the subsequent experiment of Pascal. Œuvres de Descartes, vol. x. pp. 344, 351.] and that he, moreover, detected the causes of the rainbow,[205 - Dr. Whewell, who has treated Descartes with marked injustice, does nevertheless allow that he is ‘the genuine author of the explanation of the rainbow.’ Hist. of the Induc. Sciences, vol. ii. pp. 380, 384. See also Boyle's Works, vol. iii. p. 189; Thomson's Hist. of the Royal Society, p. 364; Hallam's Lit. of Europe, vol. iii. p. 205; Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 47, 48, vol. v. pp. 265–284. On the theory of the rainbow as known in the present century, see Kaemtz, Course of Meteorology, pp. 440–445; and Forbes on Meteorology, pp. 125–130, in Report of British Association for 1840. Compare Leslie's Natural Philosophy, p. 531; Pouillet, Elémens de Physique, vol. ii. p. 788.] that singular phenomenon, with which, in the eyes of the vulgar, some theological superstitions are still connected.[206 - The Hebrew notion of the rainbow is well known; and for the ideas of other nations on this subject, see Prichard's Physical History of Mankind, vol. v. pp. 154, 176; Kame's Sketches of the History of Man, vol. iv. p. 252, Edinb. 1788; and Burdache's Physiologie, vol. v. pp. 546, 547, Paris, 1839.] At the same time, and as if to combine the most varied forms of excellence, he is not only allowed to be the first geometrician of the age,[207 - Thomas calls him ‘le plus grand géomètre de son siècle.’ Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. p. 89. Sir W. Hamilton (Discussions on Philosophy, p. 271) says, ‘the greatest mathematician of the age;’ and Montucla can find no one but Plato to compare with him: ‘On ne sauroit donner une idée plus juste de ce qu'a été l'époque de Descartes dans la géométrie ancienne… De même enfin que Platon prépara par sa découverte celles des Archimède, des Apollonius, &c., on peut dire que Descartes a jetté les fondemens de celles qui illustrent aujourd'hui les Newton, les Leibnitz, &c.’ Montucla, Hist. des Mathémat. vol. ii. p. 112.] but by the clearness and admirable precision of his style, he became one of the founders of French prose.[208 - ‘Descartes joint encore à ses autres titres, celui d'avoir été un des créateurs de notre langue.’ Biog. Univ. vol. xi. p. 154. Sir James Mackintosh (Dissert. on Ethical Philos. p. 186) has also noticed the influence of Descartes in forming the style of French writers; and I think that M. Cousin has somewhere made a similar remark.] And although he was constantly engaged in those lofty inquiries into the nature of the human mind, which can never be studied without wonder, I had almost said can never be read without awe, he combined with them a long course of laborious experiment upon the animal frame, which raised him to the highest rank among the anatomists of his time.[209 - Thomas says, ‘Descartes eut aussi la gloire d'être un des premiers anatomistes de son siècle.’ Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. p. 55; see also p. 101. In 1639, Descartes writes to Mersenne (Œuvres, vol. viii. p. 100) that he had been engaged ‘depuis onze ans’ in studying comparative anatomy by dissection. Compare p. 174, and vol. i. pp. 175–184.] The great discovery made by Harvey of the circulation of the blood, was neglected by most of his contemporaries;[210 - Dr. Whewell (Hist. of the Inductive Sciences, vol. iii. p. 440) says: ‘It was for the most part readily accepted by his countrymen; but that abroad it had to encounter considerable opposition.’ For this no authority is quoted; and yet one would be glad to know who told Dr. Whewell that the discovery was readily accepted. So far from meeting in England with ready acceptance, it was during many years most universally denied. Aubrey was assured by Harvey that, in consequence of his book on the Circulation of the Blood, he lost much of his practice, was believed to be crackbrained, and was opposed by ‘all the physicians.’ Aubrey's Letters and Lives, vol. ii. p. 383. Dr. Willis (Life of Harvey, p. xli., in Harvey's Works, edit. Sydenham Society, 1847) says ‘Harvey's views were at first rejected almost universally.’ Dr. Elliotson (Human Physiology, p. 194) says, ‘His immediate reward was general ridicule and abuse, and a great diminution of his practice.’ Broussais (Examen des Doctrines Médicales, vol. i. p. vii.) says, ‘Harvey passa pour fou quand il annonça la découverte de la circulation.’ Finally, Sir William Temple, who belongs to the generation subsequent to Harvey, and who, indeed, was not born until some years after the discovery was made, mentions it in his works in such a manner as to show that even then it was not universally received by educated men. See two curious passages, which have escaped the notice of the historians of physiology, in Works of Sir W. Temple, vol. iii. pp. 293, 469, 8vo., 1814.] but it was at once recognized by Descartes, who made it the basis of the physiological part of his work on Man.[211 - ‘Taken by Descartes as the basis of his physiology, in his work on Man.’ Whewell's Hist. of the Induc. Sciences, vol. iii. p. 441. ‘Réné Descartes se déclara un des premiers en faveur de la doctrine de la circulation.’ Renourd, Hist. de la Médecine, vol. ii. p. 163. See also Bordas Demoulin, le Cartésianisme, vol. ii. p. 324; and Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 68, 179, vol. iv. pp. 42, 449, vol. ix. pp. 159, 332. Compare Willis's Life of Harvey, p. xlv., in Harvey's Works.] He likewise adopted the discovery of the lacteals by Aselli,[212 - ‘Les veines blanches, dites lactées, qu'Asellius a découvertes depuis peu dans le mésentère.’ De la Formation du Fœtus, sec. 49, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iv. p. 483.] which, like every great truth yet laid before the world, was, at its first appearance, not only disbelieved, but covered with ridicule.[213 - Even Harvey denied it to the last. Sprengel, Hist. de la Méd. vol. iv. pp. 203, 204. Compare Harvey's Works, edit. Sydenham Soc. pp. 605, 614.]

These things might have been sufficient to rescue even the physical labours of Descartes from the attacks constantly made on them by men who either have not studied his works, or else, having studied them, are unable to understand their merit. But the glory of Descartes, and the influence he exercised over his age, do not depend even on such claims as these. Putting them aside, he is the author of what is emphatically called Modern Philosophy.[214 - M. Cousin (Hist. de la Philos. II. série, vol. i. p. 39) says of Descartes, ‘Son premier ouvrage écrit en français est de 1637. C'est donc de 1637 que date la philosophie moderne.’ See the same work, I. série, vol. iii. p. 77; and compare Stewart's Philos. of the Mind, vol. i. pp. 14, 529, with Eloge de Parent, in Œuvres de Fontenelle, Paris, 1766, vol. v. p. 444, and vol. vi. p. 318: ‘Cartésien, ou, si l'on veut, philosophe moderne.’] He is the originator of that great system and method of metaphysics, which, notwithstanding its errors, has the undoubted merit of having given a wonderful impulse to the European mind, and communicated to it an activity which has been made available for other purposes of a different character. Besides this, and superior to it, there is another obligation which we are under to the memory of Descartes. He deserves the gratitude of posterity, not so much on account of what he built up, as on account of what he pulled down. His life was one great and successful warfare against the prejudices and traditions of men. He was great as a creator, but he was far greater as a destroyer. In this respect he was the true successor of Luther, to whose labours his own were the fitting supplement. He completed what the great German reformer had left undone.[215 - ‘Descartes avait établi dans le domaine de la pensée l'indépendance absolue de la raison; il avait déclaré à la scholastique et à la théologie que l'esprit de l'homme ne pouvait plus relever que de l'évidence qu'il aurait obtenue par lui-même. Ce que Luther avait commencé dans la religion, le génie français si actif et si prompt l'importait dans la philosophie, et l'on peut dire à la double gloire de l'Allemagne et de la France que Descartes est le fils aîné de Luther.’ Lerminier, Philos. du Droit, vol. ii. p. 141. See also, on the philosophy of Descartes as a product of the Reformation. Ward's Ideal of a Christian Church, p. 498.] He bore to the old systems of philosophy precisely the same relation that Luther bore to the old systems of religion. He was the great reformer and liberator of the European intellect. To prefer, therefore, even the most successful discoverers of physical laws to this great innovator and disturber of tradition, is just as if we should prefer knowledge to freedom, and believe that science is better than liberty. We must, indeed, always be grateful to those eminent thinkers, to whose labours we are indebted for that vast body of physical truths which we now possess. But, let us reserve the full measure of our homage for those far greater men, who have not hesitated to attack and destroy the most inveterate prejudices: men who, by removing the pressure of tradition, have purified the very source and fountain of our knowledge, and secured its future progress, by casting off obstacles in the presence of which progress was impossible.[216 - For, as Turgot finely says, ‘ce n'est pas l'erreur qui s'oppose aux progrès de la vérité. Ce sont la mollesse, l'entêtement, l'esprit de routine, tout ce qui porte à l'inaction,’ Pensées in Œuvres de Turgot, vol. ii. p. 343.]

It will not be expected, perhaps it will hardly be desired, that I should enter into a complete detail of the philosophy of Descartes: a philosophy which, in England at least, is rarely studied, and therefore, is often attacked. But it will be necessary to give such an account of it as will show its analogy with the anti-theological policy of Richelieu, and will thus enable us to see the full extent of that vast movement which took place in France before the accession of Louis XIV. By this means, we shall be able to understand how the daring innovations of the great minister were so successful, since they were accompanied and reinforced by corresponding innovations in the national intellect; thus affording an additional instance of the way in which the political history of every country is to be explained by the history of its intellectual progress.

In 1637, when Richelieu was at the height of his power, Descartes published that great work which he had long been meditating, and which was the first open announcement of the new tendencies of the French mind. To this work he gave the name of a ‘Method;’ and, assuredly, the method is the most alien to what is commonly called theology that can possibly be conceived. Indeed, so far from being theological, it is essentially and exclusively psychological. The theological method rests on ancient records, on tradition, on the voice of antiquity. The method of Descartes rests solely on the consciousness each man has of the operations of his own mind, and lest anyone should mistake the meaning of this, he, in subsequent works, developed it at great length, and with unrivalled clearness. For his main object was to popularize the views which he put forward. Therefore, says Descartes, ‘I write in French rather than in Latin, because I trust that they who only employ their simple and native reason will estimate my opinions more fairly than they who only believe in ancient books.’[217 - ‘Et si j'écris en français, qui est la langue de mon pays, plutôt qu'en latin, qui est celle de mes précepteurs, c'est à cause que j'espère que ceux qui ne se servent que de leur raison naturelle toute pure, jugeront mieux de mes opinions que ceux qui ne croient qu'aux livres anciens.’ Discours de la Méthode, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 210, 211.] So strongly does he insist upon this, that, almost at the beginning of his first work, he cautions his readers against the common error of looking to antiquity for knowledge; and he reminds them that ‘when men are too curious to know the practices of past ages, they generally remain very ignorant of their own.’[218 - Ibid. vol. i. p. 127.]

Indeed, so far from following the old plan of searching for truths in the records of the past, the great essential of this new philosophy is to wean ourselves from all such associations, and, beginning the acquisition of knowledge by the work of destruction, first pull down, in order that afterwards we may build up.[219 - ‘Er fing also vom Zweifel an, und ging durch denselben zur Gewissheit über.’ Tennemann, Gesch. der Philos. vol. x. p. 218. Compare Second Discours en Sorbonne, in Œuvres de Turgot, vol. ii. p. 89.] When I, says Descartes, set forth in the pursuit of truth, I found that the best way was to reject every thing I had hitherto received, and pluck out all my old opinions, in order that I might lay the foundation of them afresh: believing that, by this means, I should more easily accomplish the great scheme of life, than by building on an old basis, and supporting myself by principles which I had learned in my youth, without examining if they were really true.[220 - Disc. de la Méthode, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. p. 136.] ‘I, therefore, will occupy myself freely and earnestly in effecting a general destruction of all my old opinions.’[221 - ‘Je m'appliquerai sérieusement et avec liberté à détruire généralement toutes mes anciennes opinions.’ Méditations in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. p. 236.] For, if we would know all the truths that can be known, we must, in the first place, free ourselves from our prejudices, and make a point of rejecting those things which we have received, until we have subjected them to a new examination.[222 - Principes de la Philosophie, part i. sec. 75, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iii. pp. 117, 118; and compare vol. ii. p. 417, where he gives a striking illustration of this view.] We, therefore, must derive our opinions, not from tradition, but from ourselves. We must not pass judgment upon any subject which we do not clearly and distinctly understand; for, even if such a judgment is correct, it can only be so by accident, not having solid ground on which to support itself.[223 - Méditations, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 303, 304.] But, so far are we from this state of indifference, that our memory is full of prejudices:[224 - ‘Nous avons rempli notre mémoire de beaucoup de préjugés.’ Principes de la Philos. part i. sec. 47, in Œuvres, vol. iii. p. 91.] we pay attention to words rather than to things;[225 - Œuvres, vol. iii. p. 117.] and being thus slaves to form, there are too many of us ‘who believe themselves religious, when, in fact, they are bigoted and superstitious; who think themselves perfect because they go much to church, because they often repeat prayers, because they wear short hair, because they fast, because they give alms. These are the men who imagine themselves such friends of God, that nothing they do displeases Him; men who, under pretence of zeal, gratify their passions by committing the greatest crimes, such as betraying towns, killing princes, exterminating nations: and all this they do to those who will not change their opinions.’[226 - ‘Ce qu'on peut particulièrement remarquer en ceux qui, croyant être dévots, sont seulement bigots et superstitieux, c'est à dire qui, sous ombre qu'ils vont souvent à l'église, qu'ils récitent force prières, qu'ils portent les cheveux courts, qu'ils jeûnent, qu'ils donnent l'aumône, pensent être entièrement parfaits, et s'imaginent qu'ils sont si grands amis de Dieu, qu'ils ne sauroient rien faire qui lui déplaise, et que tout ce que leur dicte leur passion est un bon zèle, bien qu'elle leur dicte quelquefois les plus grands crimes qui puissent être commis par des hommes, comme de trahir des villes, de tuer des princes, d'exterminer des peuples entiers, pour cela seul qu'ils ne suivent pas leurs opinions.’ Les Passions de l'Ame, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iv. pp. 194, 195.]

These were the words of wisdom which this great teacher addressed to his countrymen only a few years after they had brought to a close the last religious war that has ever been waged in France. The similarity of those views to those which, about the same time, were put forth by Chillingworth, must strike every reader, but ought not to excite surprise; for they were but the natural products of a state of society in which the right of private judgment, and the independence of the human reason, were first solidly established. If we examine this matter a little closer, we shall find still further proof of the analogy between France and England. So identical are the steps of the progress, that the relation which Montaigne bears to Descartes is just the same as that which Hooker bears to Chillingworth; the same in reference to the difference of time, and also in reference to the difference of opinions. The mind of Hooker was essentially sceptical; but his genius was so restrained by the prejudices of his age, that, unable to discern the supreme authority of private judgment, he hampered it by appeals to councils and to the general voice of ecclesiastical antiquity: impediments which Chillingworth, thirty years later, effectually removed. In precisely the same way, Montaigne, like Hooker, was sceptical; but, like him, he lived at a period when the spirit of doubt was yet young, and when the mind still trembled before the authority of the Church. It is, therefore, no wonder that even Montaigne, who did so much for his age, should have hesitated respecting the capacity of men to work out for themselves great truths; and that, pausing in the course that lay before him, his scepticism should often have assumed the form of a distrust of the human faculties.[227 - As is particularly evident in his long chapter, headed ‘Apologie de Raimond Sebond.’ Essais de Montaigne, livre ii. chap. xii. Paris, 1843, pp. 270–382, and see Tennemann, Gesch. der Philos. vol. ix. p. 455.] Such shortcomings, and such imperfections, are merely an evidence of the slow growth of society, and of the impossibility for even the greatest thinkers to outstrip their contemporaries beyond a certain point. But, with the advance of knowledge, this deficiency was at length supplied; and, as the generation after Hooker brought forth Chillingworth, just so did the generation after Montaigne bring forth Descartes. Both Chillingworth and Descartes were eminently sceptical; but their scepticism was directed, not against the human intellect, but against those appeals to authority and tradition without which it had hitherto been supposed that the intellect could not safely proceed. That this was the case with Chillingworth, we have already seen. That it was likewise the case with Descartes, is, if possible, still more apparent; for that profound thinker believed, not only that the mind, by its own efforts, could root out its most ancient opinions, but that it could, without fresh aid, build up a new and solid system in place of the one which it had thrown down.[228 - He very clearly separates himself from men like Montaigne: ‘Non que j'imitasse pour cela les sceptiques, qui ne doutent que pour douter, et affectent d'être toujours irrésolus; car, au contraire, tout mon dessein ne tendoit qu'à m'assurer, et à rejeter la terre mouvante et le sable pour trouver le roc ou l'argile.’ Discours de la Méthode, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 153, 154.]

It is this extraordinary confidence in the power of the human intellect, which eminently characterizes Descartes, and has given to his philosophy that peculiar sublimity which distinguishes it from all other systems. So far from thinking that a knowledge of the external world is essential to the discovery of truth, he laid it down as a fundamental principle, that we must begin by ignoring such knowledge;[229 - According to the view of Descartes, it was to be ignored, not denied. There is no instance to be found in his works of a denial of the existence of the external world; nor does the passage quoted from him by Mr. Jobert (New System of Philos. vol. ii. pp. 161, 162, Lond. 1849) at all justify the interpretation of that ingenious writer, who confuses certainty in the ordinary sense of the word with certainty in the Cartesian sense. A similar error is made by those who suppose that his ‘Je pense, donc je suis,’ is an enthymeme; and having taken this for granted, they turn on the great philosopher, and accuse him of begging the question! Such critics overlook the difference between a logical process and a psychological one; and therefore they do not see that this famous sentence was the description of a mental fact, and not the statement of a mutilated syllogism. The student of the philosophy of Descartes must always distinguish between these two processes, and remember that each process has an order of proof peculiar to itself; or at all events he must remember that such was the opinion of Descartes. Compare, on the Cartesian enthymeme, Cousin, Hist. de la Philos. I. série, vol. iv. pp. 512, 513, with a note in Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Kant's Werke, vol. ii. pp. 323, 324.] that the first step is to separate ourselves from the delusions of nature, and reject the evidence presented to our senses.[230 - Méditations, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 220, 226; and again in the Objections et Réponses, Œuvres, vol. ii. pp. 245, 246.] For, says Descartes, nothing is certain but thought; nor are there any truths except those which necessarily follow from the operation of our own consciousness. We have no knowledge of our soul except as a thinking substance:[231 - ‘Au lieu que, lorsque nous tâchons à connoître plus distinctement notre nature, nous pouvons voir que notre âme, en tant qu'elle est une substance distincte du corps, ne nous est connue que par cela seul qu'elle pense.’ Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iv. p. 432. Compare vol. iii. p. 96, Principes de la Philosophie, part i. sec. 53.] and it were easier for us to believe that the soul should cease to exist, than that it should cease to think.[232 - ‘En sorte qu'il me seroit bien plus aisé de croire que l'âme cesseroit d'être quand on dit qu'elle cesse de penser, que non pas de concevoir qu'elle soit sans pensée.’ Œuvres de Descartes, vol. viii. p. 574. That ‘the soul always thinks,’ is a conclusion also arrived at by Berkeley by a different process. See his subtle argument, Principles of Human Knowledge, part i. sec. 98, in Berkeley's Works, vol. i. p. 123; and for a curious application of this to the theory of dreaming, see Burdach, Physiologie comme Science d'Observation, vol. v. pp. 205, 230.] And, as to man himself, what is he but the incarnation of thought? For that which constitutes the man, is not his bones, nor his flesh, nor his blood. These are the accidents, the incumbrances, the impediments of his nature. But the man himself is the thought. The invisible me, the ultimate fact of existence, the mystery of life, is this: ‘I am a thing that thinks.’ This, therefore, is the beginning and the basis of our knowledge. The thought of each man is the last element to which analysis can carry us; it is the supreme judge of every doubt; it is the starting-point for all wisdom.[233 - Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 251, 252, 279, 293, vol. ii. pp. 252, 283.]

Taking our stand on this ground, we rise, says Descartes, to the perception of the existence of the Deity. For, our belief in His existence is an irrefragable proof that He exists. Otherwise, whence does the belief arise? Since nothing can come out of nothing, and since no effect can be without a cause, it follows that the idea we have of God must have an origin; and this origin, whatever name we give it, is no other than God.[234 - Ibid. vol. i. p. 419; and at p. 420: ‘Or de tout cela on conclut très-manifestement que Dieu existe.’ See also pp. 159–162, 280, 290, 291. But the simplest statement is in a letter to Mersenne (vol. viii. p. 529): ‘J'ai tiré la preuve de l'existence de Dieu de l'idée que je trouve en moi d'un être souverainement parfait.’] Thus, the ultimate proof of His existence is our idea of it. Instead, therefore, of saying that we know ourselves because we believe in God, we should rather say that we believe in God because we know ourselves.[235 - ‘Ainsi, quoique, de ce que je suis, je conclue avec certitude que Dieu est, je ne puis réciproquement affirmer, de ce que Dieu est, que j'existe.’ Règles pour la Direction de l'Esprit, in Œuvres, vol. xi. p. 274. See also Principes de la Philosophie, part i. sec. 7, vol. iii. p. 66.] This is the order and precedence of things. The thought of each man is sufficient to prove His existence, and it is the only proof we can ever possess. Such, therefore, is the dignity and supremacy of the human intellect, that even this, the highest of all matters, flows from it, as from its sole source.[236 - On this famous argument, which it is said was also broached by Anselm, see King's Life of Locke, vol. ii. p. 133; the Benedictine Hist. Lit. de la France, vol. ix. pp. 417, 418; Mosheim's Eccles. Hist. vol. i. p. 239; and Cudworth's Intellect. Syst. vol. iii. p. 383.] Hence, our religion should not be acquired by the teaching of others, but should be worked out by ourselves: it is not to be borrowed from antiquity, but it is to be discovered by each man's mind; it is not traditional, but personal. It is because this great truth has been neglected, that impiety has arisen. If each man were to content himself with that idea of God which is suggested by his own mind, he would attain to a true knowledge of the Divine Nature. But when, instead of confining himself to this, he mixes up with it the notions of others, his ideas become perplexed; they contradict themselves; and the composition being thus confused, he often ends by denying the existence, not, indeed, of God, but of such a God as that in whom he has been taught to believe.[237 - ‘Et certes jamais les hommes ne pourroient s'éloigner de la vraie connoissance de cette nature divine, s'ils vouloient seulement porter leur attention sur l'idée qu'ils ont de l'être souverainement parfait. Mais ceux qui mêlent quelques autres idées avec celle-là composent par ce moyen un dieu chimérique, en la nature duquel il y a des choses qui se contrarient; et, après l'avoir ainsi composé, ce n'est pas merveille s'ils nient qu'un tel dieu, qui leur est représenté par une fausse idée, existe.’ Œuvres de Descartes, vol. i. pp. 423, 424.]

The mischief which these principles must have done to the old theology is very obvious.[238 - This is delicately but clearly indicated in an able letter from Arnaud, printed in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. ii. pp. 1–36: see in particular pp. 31, 34. And Duclos bluntly says: ‘Si, depuis la révolution que Descartes a commencée, les théologiens se sont éloignés des philosophes, c'est que ceux-ci ont paru ne pas respecter infiniment les théologiens. Une philosophie qui prenoit pour base le doute et l'examen devoit les effaroucher.’ Duclos, Mémoires, vol. i. p. 109.] Not only were they fatal, in the minds of those who received them, to many of the common dogmas – such, for instance, as that of transubstantiation,[239 - On the relation of the Cartesian philosophy to the doctrine of transubstantiation, compare Palmer's Treatise on the Church, vol. ii. pp. 169, 170, with Hallam's Lit. of Europe, vol. ii. p. 453; and the remark ascribed to Hobbes, in Aubrey's Letters and Lives, vol. ii. p. 626. But Hobbes, if he really made this observation, had no right to expect Descartes to become a martyr.]– but they were likewise directly opposed to other opinions, equally indefensible, and far more dangerous. For Descartes, by founding a philosophy which rejected all authority except that of the human reason,[240 - ‘Le caractère de la philosophie du moyen âge est la soumission à une autorité autre que la raison. La philosophie moderne ne reconnaît que l'autorité de la raison. C'est le cartésianisme qui a opéré cette révolution décisive.’ Cousin, Hist. de la Philos. II. série, vol. i. pp. 258, 259.] was, of course, led to abandon the study of final causes,[241 - ‘Nous rejetterons entièrement de notre philosophie la recherche des causes finales.’ Principes de la Philos., part i. sec. 28, in Œuvres de Descartes, vol. iii. p. 81. See also part iii. sec. 3, p. 182; and his reply to Gassendi, in Œuvres, vol. ii. pp. 280, 281. Compare Cousin, Hist. de la Philosophie, II. série, vol. ii. p. 71, with Sprengel, Hist. de la Médecine, vol. v. p. 203.]– an old and natural superstition, by which, as we shall hereafter see, the German philosophers were long impeded, and which still hangs, though somewhat loosely, about the minds of men.[242 - Dr. Whewell, for instance, says, that we must reject final causes in the inorganic sciences, but must recognize them in the organic ones; which, in other words, simply means, that we know less of the organic world than of the inorganic, and that because we know less, we are to believe more; for here, as everywhere else, the smaller the science the greater the superstition. Whewell's Philos. of the Inductive Sciences, 8vo., 1847, vol. i. pp. 620, 627, 628; and his Hist. of the Induc. Sciences, vol. iii. pp. 430, 431. If the question were to be decided by authority, it would be enough to appeal to Bacon and Descartes, the two greatest writers on the philosophy of method in the seventeenth century; and to Auguste Comte, who is admitted by the few persons who have mastered his Philosophie Positive, to be the greatest in our own time. These profound and comprehensive thinkers have all rejected the study of final causes, which, as they have clearly seen, is a theological invasion of scientific rights. On the injury which this study has wrought, and on the check it has given to the advance of our knowledge, see Robin et Verdeil, Chimie Anat. Paris, 1853, vol. i. pp. 489, 493, 494, vol. ii. p. 555; Renouard, Hist. de la Médecine, vol. i. pp. 232, 237; Sprengel, Hist. de la Médecine, vol. ii. p. 220; Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Hist. des Anomalies de l'Organisation, vol. iii. pp. 435, 436; Herder, Ideen zur Gesch. der Menschheit, vol. iii. p. 270; Lawrence's Lectures on Man, p. 36; and Burdach, Traité de Physiologie, vol. i. p. 190.] At the same time, by superseding the geometry of the ancients, he aided in weakening that inordinate respect with which antiquity was then regarded. In another matter, still more important, he displayed the same spirit, and met with the same success. With such energy did he attack the influence, or rather the tyranny of Aristotle, that although the opinions of that philosopher were intimately interwoven with the Christian theology,[243 - ‘Auf das innigste verbunden mit der Theologie, nicht allein in den katholischen, sondern selbst auch in den protestantischen Ländern.’ Tennemann, Gesch. der Philos. vol. ix. p. 516. Descartes, in a letter to Mersenne (Œuvres, vol. vi. p. 73), writes, in 1629, ‘La théologie, laquelle on a tellement assujettie à Aristote, qu'il est impossible d'expliquer une autre philosophie qu'il ne semble d'abord qu'elle soit contre la foi.’ Compare vol. vii. p. 344, vol. viii. pp. 281, 497.] his authority was entirely overthrown by Descartes; and with it there perished those scholastic prejudices, for which Aristotle, indeed, was not responsible, but which, under the shelter of his mighty name, had, during several centuries, perplexed the understandings of men, and retarded the progress of their knowledge.[244 - Dr. Brown (Philosophy of the Mind, Edinburgh, 1838, p. 172) calls Descartes ‘that illustrious rebel, who, in overthrowing the authority of Aristotle,’ &c. See also Duvernet, Hist. de la Sorbonne, vol. ii. p. 192; Cuvier, Hist. des Sciences, part ii. p. 532; and Locke's Works, vol. iii. p. 48. This, I need hardly say, refers to the habit of appealing to Aristotle, as if he were infallible, and is very different from that respect which is naturally felt for a man who was probably the greatest of all the ancient thinkers. The difference between the Aristotelian and Cartesian systems is touched on rather hastily in Cudworth's Intellect. Syst. vol. i. pp. 170, 171.]

These were the principal services rendered to civilization by one of the greatest men Europe has ever produced. The analogy between him and Richelieu is very striking, and is as complete as their relative positions would allow. The same disregard of ancient notions, the same contempt for theological interests, the same indifference to tradition, the same determination to prefer the present to the past: in a word, the same essentially modern spirit, is seen alike in the writings of Descartes, and in the actions of Richelieu. What the first was to philosophy, that was the other to politics. But, while acknowledging the merits of these eminent men, it behoves us to remember that their success was the result, not only of their own abilities, but likewise of the general temper of their time. The nature of their labours depended on themselves; the way in which their labours were received, depended on their contemporaries. Had they lived in a more superstitious age, their views would have been disregarded, or, if noticed, would have been execrated as impious novelties. In the fifteenth, or early in the sixteenth century, the genius of Descartes and of Richelieu would have lacked the materials necessary to their work; their comprehensive minds would, in that state of society, have found no play; they would have awakened no sympathies; their bread would have been cast upon those waters which return it not again. And it would have been well for them if, in such a case, indifference were the only penalty with which they would be visited. It would have been well if they had not paid the forfeit incurred by many of those illustrious thinkers who have vainly attempted to stem the torrent of human credulity. It would have been well if the church had not risen in her wrath – if Richelieu had not been executed as a traitor, and Descartes burned as a heretic.

Indeed, the mere fact that two such men, occupying so conspicuous a place before the public eye, and enforcing views so obnoxious to the interests of superstition, should have lived without serious danger, and then have died peaceably in their beds – the mere fact that this should have happened, is a decisive proof of the progress which, during fifty years, had been made by the French nation. With such rapidity were the prejudices of that great people dying away, that opinions utterly subversive of theological traditions, and fatal to the whole scheme of ecclesiastical power, were with impunity advocated by Descartes, and put in practice by Richelieu. It was now clearly seen, that the two foremost men of their time could, with little or no risk, openly propagate ideas which, half a century before, it would have been accounted dangerous even for the most obscure man to whisper in the privacy of his own chamber.

Nor are the causes of this impunity difficult to understand. They are to be found in the diffusion of that sceptical spirit, by which, in France as well as in England, toleration was preceded. For, without entering into details which would be too long for the limits of this Introduction, it is enough to say, that French literature generally was, at this period, distinguished by a freedom and a boldness of inquiry, of which, England alone excepted, no example had then been seen in Europe. The generation which had listened to the teachings of Montaigne and of Charron, was now succeeded by another generation, the disciples, indeed, of those eminent men, but disciples who far outstripped their masters. The result was, that, during the thirty or forty years which preceded the power of Louis XIV.,[245 - That is in 1661, when Louis XIV. first assumed the government.] there was not to be found a single Frenchman of note who did not share in the general feeling – not one who did not attack some ancient dogma, or sap the foundation of some old opinion. This fearless temper was the characteristic of the ablest writers of that time;[246 - M. Barante (Tableau de la Littérature Française, pp. 26, 27) notices ‘cette indépendance dans les idées, ce jugement audacieux de toutes choses, qu'on remarque dans Corneille, dans Mézéray, dans Balzac, dans Saint-Réal, dans Lamothe-Levayer.’ To these may be added Naudé, Patin, and probably Gassendi. Compare Hallam's Literat. of Europe, vol. ii. pp. 364, 365, with Mackintosh's Ethical Philos. p. 116, and Lettres de Patin, vol. i. p. 297, vol. ii. pp. 33, 186, 191, 242, 342, 498, 508, vol. iii. p. 87.] but what is still more observable is, that the movement spread with such rapidity as to include in its action even those parts of society which are invariably the last to be affected by it. That spirit of doubt, which is the necessary precursor of all inquiry, and therefore of all solid improvement, owes its origin to the most thinking and intellectual parts of society, and is naturally opposed by the other parts: opposed by the nobles, because it is dangerous to their interests; opposed by the uneducated, because it attacks their prejudices. This is one of the reasons why neither the highest nor the lowest ranks are fit to conduct the government of a civilized country; since both of them, notwithstanding individual exceptions, are, in the aggregate, averse to those reforms which the exigencies of an advancing nation constantly require. But, in France, before the middle of the seventeenth century, even these classes began to participate in the great progress; so that, not only among thoughtful men, but likewise among the ignorant and the frivolous, there was seen that inquisitive and incredulous disposition, which, whatever may be said against it, has at least this peculiarity, that, in its absence, there is no instance to be found of the establishment of those principles of toleration and of liberty, which have only been recognized with infinite difficulty, and after many a hard-fought battle against prejudices whose inveterate tenacity might almost cause them to be deemed a part of the original constitution of the human mind.[247 - The increase of incredulity was so remarkable, as to give rise to a ridiculous assertion, ‘qu'il y avoit plus de 50,000 athées dans Paris vers l'an 1623.’ Baillet, Jugemens des Savans, Paris, 1722, 4to. vol. i. p. 185. Baillet has no difficulty in rejecting this preposterous statement (which is also noticed in Coleridge's Literary Remains, vol. i. p. 305; where, however, there is apparently a confusion between two different periods); but the spread of scepticism among the upper ranks and courtiers, during the reign of Louis XIII. and the minority of Louis XIV., is attested by a great variety of evidence. See Mém. de Madame de Motteville, vol. iii. p. 52; Mém. de Retz, vol. i. p. 266; Conrart, Mém. p. 235 note; Des Réaux, Historiettes, vol. vii. p. 143; Mém. de Brienne, vol. ii. p. 107 note.]

It is no wonder if, under these circumstances, the speculations of Descartes and the actions of Richelieu should have met with great success. The system of Descartes exercised immense influence, and soon pervaded nearly every branch of knowledge.[248 - Volumes might be written on the influence of Descartes, which was seen, not only in subjects immediately connected with his philosophy, but even in those apparently remote from it. Compare Broussais, Examen des Doctrines Médicales, vol. ii. pp. 55 seq.; Lettres de Patin, vol. iii. p. 153; Sprengel, Hist. de la Médecine, vol. iv. p. 238; Cuvier, Hist. des Sciences, part ii. pp. 327, 332, 352, 363; Stäudlin, Geschichte der theologischen Wissenschaften, vol. i. p. 263; Tennemann, Gesch. der Philos. vol. x. pp. 285 seq.; Huetius de Rebus ad eum pertinentibus, pp. 35, 295, 296, 385–389; Mosheim's Eccles. Hist. vol. ii. p. 258; Dacier, Rapport Historique, p. 334; Leslie's Nat. Philos. p. 121; Eloges, in Œuvres de Fontenelle, Paris, 1766, vol. v. pp. 94, 106, 137, 197, 234, 392, vol. vi. pp. 157, 318, 449; Thomson's Hist. of Chemistry, vol. i. p. 195; Quérard, France Lit. vol. iii. p. 273.] The policy of Richelieu was so firmly established, that it was continued without the slightest difficulty by his immediate successor: nor was any attempt made to reverse it until that forcible and artificial reaction which, under Louis XIV., was fatal, for a time, to every sort of civil and religious liberty. The history of that reaction, and the way in which, by a counter-reaction, the French Revolution was prepared, will be related in the subsequent chapters of this volume; at present we will resume the thread of those events which took place in France before Louis XIV. assumed the government.

A few months after the death of Richelieu, Louis XIII. also died, and the crown was inherited by Louis XIV., who was then a child, and who for many years had no influence in public affairs. During his minority, the government was administered, avowedly by his mother, but in reality by Mazarin: a man who, though in every point inferior to Richelieu, had imbibed something of his spirit, and who, so far as he was able, adopted the policy of that great statesman, to whom he owed his promotion.[249 - On the connexion between Richelieu and Mazarin, see Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxiii. pp. 400, 530; and a curious, though perhaps apocryphal anecdote in Tallemant des Réaux, Historiettes, vol. ii. pp. 231, 232. In 1636 there was noticed ‘l'étroite union’ between Richelieu and Mazarin. Le Vassor, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. viii. part ii. p. 187.] He, influenced partly by the example of his predecessor, partly by his own character, and partly by the spirit of his age, showed no desire to persecute the Protestants, or to disturb them in any of the rights they then exercised.[250 - ‘Mazarin n'avoit ni fanatisme ni esprit persécuteur,’ Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xxiv. p. 531. That he did not persecute the Protestants is grudgingly confessed in Felice's Hist. of the Protestants of France, p. 292. See also Smedley's Reformed Religion in France, vol. iii. p. 222.] His first act was to confirm the Edict of Nantes;[251 - He confirmed it in July, 1643. See Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. iii. appendix, p. 3; and Quick's Synodicon in Gallia, vol. i. p. ciii.] and, towards the close of his life, he even allowed the Protestants again to hold those synods which their own violence had been the means of interrupting.[252 - In 1659, there was assembled the Synod of Loudon, the moderator of which said, ‘It is now fifteen years since we had a national synod.’ Quick's Synodicon in Gallia, vol. ii. p. 517.] Between the death of Richelieu and the accession to power of Louis XIV., there elapsed a period of nearly twenty years, during which Mazarin, with the exception of a few intervals, was at the head of the state; and in the whole of that time, I have found no instance of any Frenchman being punished for his religion. Indeed, the new government, so far from protecting the church by repressing heresy, displayed that indifference to ecclesiastical interests which was now becoming a settled maxim of French policy. Richelieu, as we have already seen, had taken the bold step of placing Protestants at the head of the royal armies; and this he had done upon the simple principle, that one of the first duties of a statesman is to employ for the benefit of the country the ablest men he can find, without regard to their theological opinions, with which, as he well knew, no government has any concern. But Louis XIII., whose personal feelings were always opposed to the enlightened measures of his great minister, was offended by this magnanimous disregard of ancient prejudices; his piety was shocked at the idea of Catholic soldiers being commanded by heretics; and, as we are assured by a well-informed contemporary, he determined to put an end to this scandal to the church, and, for the future, allow no Protestant to receive the staff of marshal of France.[253 - Brienne records the determination of the king, ‘que cette dignité ne seroit plus accordée à des Protestans.’ Sismondi, Histoire des Français, vol. xxiv. p. 65.] Whether the king, if he had lived, would have carried his point, is doubtful;[254 - He was so uneasy about the sin he had committed, that before his death he intreated the Protestant marshals to change their creed: ‘Il ne voulut pas mourir sans avoir exhorté de sa propre bouche les maréchaux de la Force et de Chatillon à se faire Catholiques.’ Benoist, Hist. de l'Edit de Nantes, vol. ii. p. 612. The same circumstance is mentioned by Le Vassor, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. x. part ii. p. 785.] but what is certain is, that, only four months after his death, this appointment of marshal was bestowed upon Turenne, the most able of all the Protestant generals.[255 - Louis XIII. died in May 1643; and Turenne was made marshal in the September following. Lavallée, Hist. des Français, vol. iii. pp. 148, 151.] And in the very next year, Gassion, another Protestant, was raised to the same dignity; thus affording the strange spectacle of the highest military power in a great Catholic country wielded by two men against whose religion the church was never weary of directing her anathemas.[256 - Sismondi (Hist. des Français, vol. xxiv. p. 65) makes the appointment of Gassion in 1644; according to Montglat (Mémoires, vol. i. p. 437) it was at the end of 1643. There are some singular anecdotes of Gassion in Les Historiettes de Tallemant des Réaux, vol. v. pp. 167–180; and an account of his death in Mém. de Motteville, vol. ii. p. 290, from which it appears that he remained a Protestant to the last.] In a similar spirit, Mazarin, on mere grounds of political expediency, concluded an intimate alliance with Cromwell; an usurper who, in the opinion of the theologians, was doomed to perdition, since he was soiled by the triple crime of rebellion, of heresy, and of regicide.[257 - The Pope especially was offended by this alliance (Ranke, die Päpste, vol. iii. p. 158, compared with Vaughan's Cromwell, vol. i. p. 343, vol. ii. p. 124); and, judging from the language of Clarendon, the orthodox party in England was irritated by it. Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion, pp. 699, 700. Contemporary notices of this union between the cardinal and the regicide, will be found in Mém. de Retz, vol. i. p. 349; Mém. de Montglat, vol. ii. p. 478, vol. iii. p. 23; Lettres de Patin, vol. ii. pp. 183, 302, 426; Marchand, Dict. Historique, vol. ii. p. 56; Mem. of Sir Philip Warwick, p. 377; Harris's Lives of the Stuarts, vol. iii. p. 393.] Finally, one of the last acts of this pupil of Richelieu's[258 - De Retz (Mémoires, vol. i. p. 59), who knew Richelieu, calls Mazarin ‘son disciple.’ And at p. 65 he adds, ‘comme il marchoit sur les pas du cardinal de Richelieu, qui avoit achevé de détruire toutes les anciennes maximes de l'état.’ Compare Mém. de Motteville, vol. ii. p. 18; and Mém. de la Rochefoucauld, vol. i. p. 444.] was to sign the celebrated treaty of the Pyrenees, by which ecclesiastical interests were seriously weakened, and great injury inflicted on him who was still considered to be the head of the church.[259 - On the open affront to the Pope by this treaty, see Ranke, die Päpste, vol. iii. p. 159: ‘An dem pyrenäischen Frieden nahm er auch nicht einmal mehr einen scheinbaren Antheil: man vermied es seine Abgeordneten zuzulassen: kaum wurde seiner noch darin gedacht.’ The consequences and the meaning of all this are well noticed by M. Ranke.]

But, the circumstance for which the administration of Mazarin is most remarkable, is the breaking out of that great civil war called the Fronde, in which the people attempted to carry into politics the insubordinate spirit which had already displayed itself in literature and in religion. Here we cannot fail to note the similarity between this struggle and that which, at the same time, was taking place in England. It would, indeed, be far from accurate to say that the two events were the counterpart of each other; but there can be no doubt that the analogy between them is very striking. In both countries, the civil war was the first popular expression of what had hitherto been rather a speculative, and, so to say, a literary scepticism. In both countries, incredulity was followed by rebellion, and the abasement of the clergy preceded the humiliation of the crown; for Richelieu was to the French church what Elizabeth had been to the English church. In both countries there now first arose that great product of civilization, a free press, which showed its liberty by pouring forth those fearless and innumerable works which mark the activity of the age.[260 - ‘La presse jouissait d'une entière liberté pendant les troubles de la Fronde, et le public prenait un tel intérêt aux débats politiques, que les pamphlets se débitaient quelquefois au nombre de huit et dix mille exemplaires.’ Sainte–Aulaire, Hist. de la Fronde, vol. i. p. 299. Tallemant des Réaux, who wrote immediately after the Fronde, says (Historiettes, vol. iv. p. 74), ‘Durant la Fronde, qu'on imprimoit tout.’ And Omer Talon, with the indignation natural to a magistrate, mentions, that in 1649, ‘toutes sortes de libelles et de diffamations se publioient hautement par la ville sans permission du magistrat.’ Mém. d'Omer Talon, vol. ii. p. 466. For further evidence of the great importance of the press in France in the middle of the seventeenth century, see Mém. de Lenet, vol. i. p. 162; Mém. de Motteville, vol. iii. pp. 288, 289; Lettres de Patin, vol. i. p. 432, vol. ii. p. 517; Monteil, Hist. des divers Etats, vol. vii. p. 175.In England, the Long Parliament succeeded to the licensing authority of the Star-chamber (Blackstone's Commentaries, vol. iv. p. 152); but it is evident from the literature of that time, that for a considerable period the power was in reality in abeyance. Both parties attacked each other freely through the press; and it is said that between the breaking out of the civil war and the restoration, there were published from 30,000 to 50,000 pamphlets. Morgan's Phœnix Britannicus, 1731, 4to. pp. iii. 557; Carlyle's Cromwell, vol. i. p. 4; Southey's Commonplace Book, third series, p. 449. See also on this great movement of the press, Bates's Account of the Late Troubles, part i. p. 78; Bulstrode's Memoirs, p. 4; Howell's Letters, p. 354; Hunt's Hist. of Newspapers, vol. i. p. 45; Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion, p. 81; Nichols's Lit. Anec. vol. iv. pp. 86, 102.] In both countries, the struggle was between retrogression and progress; between those who clung to tradition, and those who longed for innovation; while, in both, the contest assumed the external form of a war between king and parliament, the king being the organ of the past, the parliament the representative of the present. And, not to mention inferior similarities, there was one other point of vast importance in which these two great events coincide. This is, that both of them were eminently secular, and arose from the desire, not of propagating religious opinions, but of securing civil liberty. The temporal character of the English rebellion I have already noticed, and, indeed, it must be obvious to whoever has studied the evidence in its original sources. In France, not only do we find the same result, but we can even mark the stages of the progress. In the middle of the sixteenth century, and immediately after the death of Henry III., the French civil wars were caused by religious disputes, and were carried on with the fervour of a crusade. Early in the seventeenth century, hostilities again broke out; but though the efforts of the government were directed against the Protestants, this was not because they were heretics, but because they were rebels: the object being, not to punish an opinion, but to control a faction. This was the first great stage in the history of toleration; and it was accomplished, as we have already seen, during the reign of Louis XIII. That generation passing away, there arose, in the next age, the wars of the Fronde; and in this, which may be called the second stage of the French intellect, the alteration was still more remarkable. For, in the mean time, the principles of the great sceptical thinkers, from Montaigne to Descartes, had produced their natural fruit, and, becoming diffused among the educated classes, had influenced, as they always will do, not only those by whom they were received, but also those by whom they were rejected. Indeed, a mere knowledge of the fact, that the most eminent men have thrown doubt on the popular opinions of an age, can never fail, in some degree, to disturb the convictions even of those by whom the doubts are ridiculed.[261 - Dugald Stewart (Philos. of the Mind, vol. i. p. 357) says, ‘Nothing can be more just than the observation of Fontenelle, that “the number of those who believe in a system already established in the world, does not, in the least, add to its credibility; but that the number of those who doubt of it, has a tendency to diminish it.”’ Compare with this Newman on Development, Lond. 1845, p. 31; and the remark of Hylas in Berkeley's Works, edit. 1843, vol. i. pp. 151, 152, first dialogue.] In such cases, none are entirely safe: the firmest belief is apt to become slightly unsettled; those who outwardly preserve the appearance of orthodoxy, often unconsciously waver; they cannot entirely resist the influence of superior minds, nor can they always avoid an unwelcome suspicion, that when ability is on one side, and ignorance on the other, it is barely possible that the ability may be right, and the ignorance may be wrong.

Thus it fell out in France. In that country, as in every other, when theological convictions diminished, theological animosities subsided. Formerly religion had been the cause of war, and had also been the pretext under which it was conducted. Then there came a time when it ceased to be the cause: but so slow is the progress of society, that it was still found necessary to set it up as the pretext.[262 - Compare Capefigue's Richelieu, vol. i. p. 293, with a remarkable passage in Mém. de Rohan, vol. i. p. 317; where Rohan contrasts the religious wars he was engaged in during the administration of Richelieu, with those very different wars which had been waged in France a little earlier.] Finally, there came the great days of the Fronde, in which it was neither cause nor pretext,[263 - ‘L'esprit religieux ne s'était mêlé en aucune manière aux querelles de la Fronde.’ Capefigue, vol. ii. p. 434. Lenet, who had great influence with what was called the party of the princes, says that he always avoided any attempt ‘à faire aboutir notre parti à une guerre de religion.’ Mém. de Lenet, vol. i. p. 619. Even the people said that it was unimportant whether or not a man died a Protestant; but that if he were a partizan of Mazarin he was sure to be damned: ‘Ils disoient qu'étant mazarin, il falloit qu'il fût damné.’ Lenet, vol. i. p. 434.] and in which there was seen, for the first time in France, an arduous struggle by human beings avowedly for human purposes: a war waged by men who sought, not to enforce their opinions, but to increase their liberty. And, as if to make this change still more striking, the most eminent leader of the insurgents was the Cardinal de Retz; a man of vast ability, but whose contempt for his profession was notorious,[264 - Indeed he does not conceal this even in his memoirs. He says (Mém. vol. i. p. 3), he had ‘l'âme peut-être la moins ecclésiastique qui fût dans l'univers.’ At p. 13, ‘le chagrin que ma profession ne laissoit pas de nourrir toujours dans le fonds de mon âme.’ At p. 21, ‘je haïssois ma profession plus que jamais.’ At p. 48, ‘le clergé, qui donne toujours l'exemple de la servitude, la prêchoit aux autres sous le titre d'obéissance.’ See also the remark of his great friend Joly (Mém. de Joly, p. 209, edit. Petitot, 1825); and the account given by Tallemant des Réaux, who knew De Retz well, and had travelled with him, Historiettes, vol. vii. pp. 18-30. The same tendency is illustrated, though in a much smaller degree, by a conversation which Charles II., when in exile, held with De Retz, and which is preserved in Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion, p. 806, and is worth consulting merely as an instance of the purely secular view that De Retz always took of political affairs.] and of whom a great historian has said, ‘he is the first bishop in France who carried on a civil war without making religion the pretence.’[265 - ‘Cet homme singulier est le premier évêque en France qui ait fait une guerre civile sans avoir la religion pour prétexte.’ Siècle de Louis XIV, in Œuvres de Voltaire, vol. xix. p. 261.]

We have thus seen that, during the seventy years which succeeded the accession of Henry IV., the French intellect developed itself in a manner remarkably similar to that which took place in England. We have seen that, in both countries, the mind, according to the natural conditions of its growth, first doubted what it had long believed, and then tolerated what it had long hated. That this was by no means an accidental or capricious combination, is evident, not only from general arguments, and from the analogy of the two countries, but also from another circumstance of great interest. This is, that the order of events, and as it were their relative proportions, were the same, not only in reference to the increase of toleration, but also in reference to the increase of literature and science. In both countries, the progress of knowledge bore the same ratio to the decline of ecclesiastical influence, although they manifested that ratio at different periods. We had begun to throw off our superstitions somewhat earlier than the French were able to do; and thus, being the first in the field, we anticipated that great people in producing a secular literature. Whoever will take the pains to compare the growth of the French and English minds, will see that, in all the most important departments, we were the first, I do not say in merit, but in the order of time. In prose, in poetry, and in every branch of intellectual excellence, it will be found, on comparison, that we were before the French nearly a whole generation; and that, chronologically, the same proportion was preserved as that between Bacon and Descartes, Hooker and Pascal,[266 - Hooker and Pascal may properly be classed together, as the two most sublime theological writers either country has produced; for Bossuet is as inferior to Pascal as Jeremy Taylor is inferior to Hooker.] Shakespeare and Corneille, Massinger and Racine, Ben Jonson and Molière, Harvey and Pecquet. These eminent men were all justly celebrated in their respective countries; and it would perhaps be invidious to institute a comparison between them. But what we have here to observe is, that among those who cultivated the same department, the greatest Englishman, in every instance, preceded the greatest Frenchman by many years. The difference, running as it does, through all the leading topics, is far too regular to be considered accidental. And as few Englishmen of the present day will be so presumptuous as to suppose that we possess any native and inherent superiority over the French, it is evident that there must be some marked peculiarity in which the two countries differed, and which has produced this difference, not in their knowledge, but in the time at which their knowledge appeared. Nor does the discovery of this peculiarity require much penetration. For, notwithstanding that the French were more tardy than the English, still, when the development had fairly begun, the antecedents of its success were among both people precisely the same. It is, therefore, clear, according to the commonest principles of inductive reasoning, that the lateness of the development must be owing to the lateness of the antecedent. It is clear that the French knew less because they believed more.[267 - One of the most remarkable men they have ever possessed notices this connexion, which he expresses conversely, but with equal truth: ‘moins on sait, moins on doute; moins on a découvert, moins on voit ce qui reste à découvrir… Quand les hommes sont ignorans, il est aisé de tout savoir.’ Discours en Sorbonne, in Œuvres de Turgot, vol. ii. pp. 65, 70.] It is clear that their progress was checked by the prevalence of those feelings which are fatal to all knowledge, because, looking on antiquity as the sole receptacle of wisdom, they degrade the present in order that they may exaggerate the past: feelings which destroy the prospects of man, stifle his hopes, damp his curiosity, chill his energies, impair his judgment, and, under pretence of humbling the pride of his reason, seek to throw him back into that more than midnight darkness from which his reason alone has enabled him to emerge.

The analogy thus existing between France and England, is, indeed, very striking, and, so far as we have yet considered it, seems complete in all its parts. To sum up the similarities in a few words, it may be said, that both countries followed the same order of development in their scepticism, in their knowledge, in their literature, and in their toleration. In both countries, there broke out a civil war at the same time, for the same object, and, in many respects, under the same circumstances. In both, the insurgents, at first triumphant, were afterwards defeated; and the rebellion being put down, the governments of the two nations were fully restored almost at the same moment: in 1660 by Charles II.; in 1661, by Louis XIV.[268 - Mazarin, until his death in 1661, exercised complete authority over Louis. See Siècle de Louis XIV, in Œuvres de Voltaire, vol. xix. pp. 318, 319; and Lavallée, Hist. des Français, vol. iii. p. 195; so that, as Montglat says (Mém. vol. iii. p. 111), ‘On doit appeler ce temps-là le commencement du règne de Louis XIV.’ The pompous manner in which, directly after the death of Mazarin, the king assumed the government, is related by Brienne, who was present. Mém. de Brienne, vol. ii. pp. 154–158.] But there the similarity stopped. At this point there began a marked divergence between the two countries;[269 - By this I mean, that the divergence now first became clear to every observer; but the origin of the divergence dates from a much earlier period, as we shall see in the next chapter.] which continued to increase for more than a century, until it ended in England by the consolidation of the national prosperity, in France by a revolution more sanguinary, more complete, and more destructive, than any the world has ever seen. This difference between the fortunes of such great and civilized nations is so remarkable, that a knowledge of its causes becomes essential to a right understanding of European history, and will be found to throw considerable light on other events not immediately connected with it. Besides this, such an inquiry, independently of its scientific interest, will have a high practical value. It will show, what men seem only recently to have begun to understand, that, in politics, no certain principles having yet been discovered, the first conditions of success are compromise, barter, expediency, and concession. It will show the utter helplessness even of the ablest rulers, when they try to meet new emergencies by old maxims. It will show the intimate connexion between knowledge and liberty; between an increasing civilization and an advancing democracy. It will show that, for a progressive nation, there is required a progressive polity; that within certain limits, innovation is the sole ground of security; that no institution can withstand the flux and movements of society, unless it not only repairs its structure, but also widens its entrance; and that, even in a material point of view, no country can long remain either prosperous or safe, in which the people are not gradually extending their power, enlarging their privileges, and, so to say, incorporating themselves with the functions of the state.

The tranquillity of England, and her freedom from civil war, are to be ascribed to the recognition of these great truths;[270 - That is to say, their practical recognition; theoretically, they are still denied by innumerable politicians, who, nevertheless, assist in carrying them into effect, fondly hoping that each innovation will be the last, and enticing men into reform under the pretext that by each change they are returning to the spirit of the ancient British constitution.] while the neglect of them has entailed upon other countries the most woful calamities. On this account, therefore, if on no other, it becomes interesting to ascertain how it was that the two nations we have been comparing should, in regard to these truths, have adopted views diametrically opposite, although, in other matters, their opinions, as we have already seen, were very similar. Or, to state the question in other words, we have to inquire how it was that the French, after pursuing precisely the same course as the English, in their knowledge, in their scepticism, and in their toleration, should have stopped short in their politics; how it was that their minds, which had effected such great things, should, nevertheless, have been so unprepared for liberty, that, in spite of the heroic efforts of the Fronde, they not only fell under the despotism of Louis XIV., but never cared to resist it; and, at length, becoming slaves in their souls as well as in their bodies, they grew proud of a condition which the meanest Englishman would have spurned as an intolerable bondage.

The cause of this difference is to be sought in the existence of that spirit of protection which is so dangerous and yet so plausible, that it forms the most serious obstacle with which advancing civilization has to contend. This, which may truly be called an evil spirit, has always been far stronger in France than in England. Indeed, among the French, it continues, even to the present day, to produce the most mischievous results. It is, as I shall hereafter point out, intimately connected with that love of centralization which appears in the machinery of their government, and in the spirit of their literature. It is this which induces them to retain restrictions by which their trade has long been troubled, and to preserve monopolies which, in our country, a freer system has effectually destroyed. It is this which causes them to interfere with the natural relation between producers and consumers; to force into existence manufactures which otherwise would never arise, and which, for that very reason, are not required; to disturb the ordinary march of industry, and, under pretence of protecting their native labourers, diminish the produce of labour by diverting it from those profitable channels into which its own instincts always compel it to flow.

When the protective principle is carried into trade, these are its inevitable results. When it is carried into politics, there is formed what is called a paternal government, in which supreme power is vested in the sovereign, or in a few privileged classes. When it is carried into theology, it produces a powerful church, and a numerous clergy, who are supposed to be the necessary guardians of religion, and every opposition to whom is resented as an insult to the public morals. These are the marks by which protection may be recognized; and from a very early period they have displayed themselves in France much more clearly than in England. Without pretending to discover their precise origin, I will, in the next chapter, endeavour to trace them back to a time sufficiently remote to explain some of the discrepancies which, in this respect existed between the two countries.

Note to p. 93 (#Page_93).Descartes died in Sweden on a visit to Christina; so that, strictly speaking, there is an error in the text. But this does not affect the argument; because the works of Descartes, being eagerly read in France, and not being prohibited, we must suppose that his person would have been safe, had he remained in his own country. To burn a heretic is a more decisive step than to suppress a book; and as the French clergy were not strong enough to effect the latter, it is hardly likely that they could have accomplished the former.

CHAPTER II

HISTORY OF THE PROTECTIVE SPIRIT, AND COMPARISON OF IT IN FRANCE AND ENGLAND

When, towards the end of the fifth century, the Roman empire was broken up, there followed, as is well known, a long period of ignorance and of crime, in which even the ablest minds were immersed in the grossest superstitions. During these, which are rightly called the Dark Ages, the clergy were supreme: they ruled the consciences of the most despotic sovereigns, and they were respected as men of vast learning, because they alone were able to read and write; because they were the sole depositaries of those idle conceits of which European science then consisted; and because they preserved the legends of the saints and the lives of the fathers, from which, as it was believed, the teachings of divine wisdom might easily be gathered.

Such was the degradation of the European intellect for about five hundred years, during which the credulity of men reached a height unparalleled in the annals of ignorance. But at length the human reason, that divine spark which even the most corrupt society is unable to extinguish, began to display its power, and disperse the mists by which it was surrounded. Various circumstances, which it would be tedious here to discuss, caused this dispersion to take place at different times in different countries. However, speaking generally, we may say that it occurred in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and that by the twelfth century there was no nation now called civilized, upon whom the light had not begun to dawn.

It is from this point that the first great divergence between the European nations took its rise. Before this time their superstition was so great and universal, that it would avail little to measure the degree of their relative darkness. Indeed, so low had they fallen, that, during the earlier period, the authority of the clergy was in many respects an advantage, as forming a barrier between the people and their rulers, and as supplying the sole instance of a class that even made an approach to intellectual pursuits. But when the great movement took place, when the human reason began to rebel, the position of the clergy was suddenly changed. They had been friendly to reasoning as long as the reasoning was on their side.[271 - ‘Toute influence qu'on accordait à la science ne pouvait, dans les premiers temps, qu'être favorable au clergé.’ Meyer, Institut. Judic. vol. i. p. 498.] While they were the only guardians of knowledge, they were eager to promote its interests. Now, however, it was falling from their hands: it was becoming possessed by laymen: it was growing dangerous: it must be reduced to its proper dimensions. Then it was that there first became general the inquisitions, the imprisonments, the torturings, the burnings, and all the other contrivances by which the church vainly endeavoured to stem the tide that had turned against her.[272 - Early in the eleventh century the clergy first began systematically to repress independent inquiries by punishing men who attempted to think for themselves. Compare Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. iv. pp. 145, 146; Neander's Hist. of the Church, vol. vi. pp. 365, 366; Prescott's Hist. of Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. i. p. 261 note. Before this, such a policy, as Sismondi justly observes, was not required: ‘Pendant plusieurs siècles, l'église n'avoit été troublée par aucune hérésie; l'ignorance étoit trop complète la soumission trop servile, la foi trop aveugle, pour que les questions qui avoient si long-temps exercé la subtilité des Grecs fussent seulement comprises par les Latins.’ As knowledge advanced, the opposition between inquiry and belief became more marked: the church redoubled her efforts, and at the end of the twelfth century the popes first formally called on the secular power to punish heretics; and the earliest constitution addressed ‘inquisitoribus hæreticæ pravitatis’ is one by Alexander IV. Meyer, Inst. Jud. vol. ii. pp. 554, 556. See also on this movement, Llorente, Hist. de l'Inquisition, vol. i. p. 125, vol. iv. p. 284. In 1222 a synod assembled at Oxford caused an apostate to be burned; and this, says Lingard (Hist. of England, vol. ii. p. 148), ‘is, I believe, the first instance of capital punishment in England on the ground of religion.’ Compare Wright's Biog. Brit. Lit. vol. ii. p. 444.] From that moment there has been an unceasing struggle between these two great parties, – the advocates of inquiry, and the advocates of belief: a struggle which, however it may be disguised, and under whatever forms it may appear, is at bottom always the same, and represents the opposite interests of reason and faith, of scepticism and credulity, of progress and reaction, of those who hope for the future, and of those who cling to the past.

This, then, is the great starting point of modern civilization. From the moment that reason began, however faintly, to assert its supremacy, the improvement of every people has depended upon their obedience to its dictates, and upon the success with which they have reduced to its standard the whole of their actions. To understand, therefore, the original divergence of France and England, we must seek it in the circumstances that took place when this, which may be called the great rebellion of the intellect, was first clearly seen.

If now, with a view to such inquiry, we examine the history of Europe, we shall find that just at this period there sprung up the feudal system: a vast scheme of polity, which, clumsy and imperfect as it was, supplied many of the wants of the rude people among whom it arose.[273 - Sir F. Palgrave (English Commonwealth, vol. ii. p. ccvi.) says, ‘it is generally admitted, by the best authorities, that from about the eleventh century benefices acquired the name of fiefs or feuds;’ and Robertson (State of Europe, note viii. in Works, p. 393) supposes that the word feudum does not occur before 1008. But according to M. Guizot (Civilisation en France, vol. iii. p. 238), ‘il apparaît, pour la première fois, dans une charte de Charles le Gros en 884.’ This is a question more curious than important; since whatever the origin of the word may be, it is certain that the thing did not, and could not, exist before the tenth century at the earliest: inasmuch as the extreme disorganisation of society rendered so coercive an institution impossible. M. Guizot, in another work (Essais sur l'Hist. de France, p. 239), rightly says, ‘Au Xe siècle seulement, les rapports et les pouvoirs sociaux acquirent quelque fixité.’ See also his Civilisation en Europe, p. 90.] The connexion between it and the decline of the ecclesiastical spirit is very obvious. For the feudal system was the first great secular plan that had been seen in Europe since the formation of the civil law: it was the first comprehensive attempt which had been made, during more than four hundred years, to organize society according to temporal, not according to spiritual circumstances, the basis of the whole arrangement being merely the possession of land, and the performance of certain military and pecuniary services.[274 - ‘La terre est tout dans ce système… Le système féodal est comme une religion de la terre.’ Origines du Droit, in Œuvres de Michelet, vol. ii. p. 302. ‘Le caractère de la féodalité, c'était la prédominance de la réalité sur la personnalité, de la terre sur l'homme.’ Eschbach, Etude du Droit, p. 256.]

This was, no doubt, a great step in European civilization, because it set the first example of a large public polity in which the spiritual classes as such had no recognized place;[275 - According to the social and political arrangements from the fourth to the tenth century, the clergy were so eminently a class apart, that they were freed from ‘burdens of the state,’ and were not obliged to engage in military services unless they thought proper to do so. See Neander's Hist. of the Church, vol. iii. p. 195, vol. v. pp. 133, 140; and Petrie's Ecclesiast. Archit. p. 382. But under the feudal system this immunity was lost; and in regard to performing services no separation of classes was admitted. ‘After the feudal polity became established, we do not find that there was any dispensation for ecclesiastical fiefs.’ Hallam's Supplemental Notes, p. 120; and for further proof of the loss of the old privileges, compare Grose's Military Antiquities, vol. i. pp. 5, 64; Meyer, Instit. Judic. vol. i. p. 257; Turner's Hist. of England, vol. iv. p. 462; and Mably's Observations, vol. i. pp. 434, 435: so that, as this writer says, p. 215, ‘Chaque seigneur laïc avait gagné personnellement à la révolution qui forma le gouvernement féodal; mais les évêques et les abbés, en devenant souverains dans leurs terres, perdirent au contraire beaucoup de leur pouvoir et de leur dignité.’] and hence there followed that struggle between feudality and the church, which has been observed by several writers, but the origin of which has been strangely overlooked. What, however, we have now to notice is, that by the establishment of the feudal system, the spirit of protection, far from being destroyed, was probably not even weakened, but only assumed a new form. Instead of being spiritual, it became temporal. Instead of men looking up to the church, they looked up to the nobles. For, as a necessary consequence of this vast movement, or rather as a part of it, the great possessors of land were now being organized into an hereditary aristocracy.[276 - The great change of turning life-possessions of land into hereditary possessions, began late in the ninth century, being initiated in France by a capitulary of Charles the Bald, in 877. See Allen on the Prerogative, p. 210; Spence's Origin of the Laws of Europe, pp. 282, 301; Meyer, Instit. Judiciaires, vol. i. p. 206.] In the tenth century, we find the first surnames:[277 - That surnames first arose in the tenth century is stated by the most competent authorities. See Sismondi, Hist. de Français, vol. iii. pp. 452-455; Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. i. p. 138; Monteil, Hist. des divers Etats, vol. iii. p. 268; Petrie's Ecclesiast. Archit. pp. 277, 342. Koch (Tableau des Révolutions, vol. i. p. 138) erroneously says, ‘c'est pareillement aux croisades que l'Europe doit l'usage des surnoms de famille;’ a double mistake, both as to the date and the cause, since the introduction of surnames being part of a large social movement, can under no circumstances be ascribed to a single event.] by the eleventh century most of the great offices had become hereditary in the leading families:[278 - On this process from the end of the ninth to the twelfth century, compare Hallam's Supplemental Notes, pp. 97, 98; Dalrymple's Hist. of Feudal Property, p. 21; Klimrath, Hist. du Droit, vol. i. p. 74.] and in the twelfth century armorial bearings were invented, as well as other heraldic devices, which long nourished the conceit of the nobles, and were valued by their descendants as marks of that superiority of birth to which, during many ages, all other superiority was considered subordinate.[279 - As to the origin of armorial bearings, which cannot be traced higher than the twelfth century, see Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. i. pp. 138, 139; Ledwich, Antiquities of Ireland, pp. 231, 232; Origines du Droit, in Œuvres de Michelet, vol. ii. p. 382.]

Such was the beginning of the European aristocracy, in the sense in which that word is commonly used. With the consolidation of its power, feudality was made, in reference to the organization of society, the successor of the church;[280 - For, as Lerminia says (Philos. du Droit, vol. i. p. 17), ‘la loi féodale n'est autre chose que la terre élevée à la souveraineté.’ On the decline of the church in consequence of the increased feudal and secular spirit, see Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. iii. p. 440, vol. iv. p. 88. In our own country, one fact may be mentioned illustrative of the earliest encroachments of laymen: namely, that, before the twelfth century, we find no instance in England of the great seal being entrusted ‘to the keeping of a layman.’ Campbell's Chancellors, vol. i. p. 61.] and the nobles, becoming hereditary, gradually displaced in government, and in the general functions of authority, the clergy, among whom the opposite principle of celibacy was now firmly established.[281 - Celibacy, on account of its supposed ascetic tendency, was advocated and in some countries was enforced, at an early period; but the first general and decisive movement in its favour was in the middle of the eleventh century, before which time it was a speculative doctrine, constantly disobeyed. See Neander's Hist. of the Church, vol. vi. pp. 52, 61, 62, 72, 93, 94 note, vol. vii. pp. 127–131; Mosheim's Eccles. Hist. vol. i. pp. 248, 249; Eccleston's English Antiq. p. 95.] It is, therefore, evident, that an inquiry into the origin of the modern protective spirit does, in a great measure, resolve itself into an inquiry into the origin of the aristocratic power; since that power was the exponent, and, as it were, the cover under which the spirit displayed itself. This, as we shall hereafter see, is likewise connected with the great religious rebellion of the sixteenth century; the success of which mainly depended on the weakness of the protective principle that opposed it. But, reserving this for future consideration, I will now endeavour to trace a few of the circumstances which gave the aristocracy more power in France than in England, and thus accustomed the French to a closer and more constant obedience, and infused into them a more reverential spirit than that which was usual in our country.

Soon after the middle of the eleventh century, and therefore while the aristocracy was in the process of formation, England was conquered by the Duke of Normandy, who naturally introduced the polity existing in his own country.[282 - Where it was particularly flourishing: ‘la féodalité fut organisée en Normandie plus fortement et plus systématiquement que partout ailleurs en France.’ Klimrath, Travaux sur l'Hist. du Droit, vol. i. p. 130. The ‘coutume de Normandie’ was, at a much later period, only to be found in the old ‘grand coutumier.’ Klimrath, vol. ii. p. 160. On the peculiar tenacity with which the Normans clung to it, see Lettres d'Aguesseau, vol. ii. pp. 225, 226: ‘accoutumés à respecter leur coutume comme l'évangile.’] But, in his hands, it underwent a modification suitable to the new circumstances in which he was placed. He, being in a foreign country, the general of a successful army composed partly of mercenaries,[283 - Mills' Hist. of Chivalry, vol. i. p. 387; Turner's Hist. of England, vol. ii. p. 390, vol. iv. p. 76. Mercenary troops were also employed by his immediate successors. Grose's Military Antiq. vol. i. p. 55.] was able to dispense with some of those feudal usages which were customary in France. The great Norman lords, thrown as strangers into the midst of a hostile population, were glad to accept estates from the crown on almost any terms that would guarantee their own security. Of this, William naturally availed himself. For, by granting baronies on conditions favourable to the crown, he prevented the barons[284 - On the different meanings attached to the word ‘baron,’ compare Klimrath, Hist. du Droit, vol. ii. p. 40, with Meyer, Instit. Judiciaires, vol. i. p. 105. But M. Guizot says, what seems most likely, ‘il est probable que ce nom fut commun originairement à tous les vassaux immédiats de la couronne, liés au roi per servitium militare, par le service de chevalier.’ Essais, p. 265.] from possessing that power which they exercised in France, and which, but for this, they would have exercised in England. The result was, that the most powerful of our nobles became amenable to the law, or, at all events, to the authority of the king.[285 - Meyer, Instit. Judic. vol. i. p. 242; Turner's Hist. of England, vol. iii. p. 220. The same policy of reducing the nobles was followed up by Henry II., who destroyed the baronial castles. Turner, vol. iv. p. 223. Compare Lingard, vol. i. pp. 315, 371.] Indeed, to such an extent was this carried, that William, shortly before his death, obliged all the landowners to render their fealty to him; thus entirely neglecting that peculiarity of feudalism, according to which each vassal was separately dependent on his own lord.[286 - ‘Deinde cœpit homagia hominum totius Angliæ, et juramentum fidelitatis cujuscumque essent feodi vel tenementi.’ Matthæi Westmonast. Flores Historiarum, vol. ii. p. 9.]

But in France, the course of affairs was very different. In that country the great nobles held their lands, not so much by grant, as by prescription.[287 - See some good remarks on this difference between the French and English nobles, in Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. ii. pp. 99, 100. Mably (Observations, vol. i. p. 60) says: ‘en effet, on négligea, sur la fin de la première race, de conserver les titres primordiaux de ses possessions.’ As to the old customary French law of prescription, see Giraud, Précis de l'Ancien Droit, pp. 79, 80.] A character of antiquity was thus thrown over their rights; which, when added to the weakness of the crown, enabled them to exercise on their own estates, all the functions of independent sovereigns.[288 - Mably, Observations sur l'Hist. de France, vol. i. pp. 70, 162, 178.] Even when they received their first great check, under Philip Augustus,[289 - On the policy of Philip Augustus in regard to the nobles, see Mably, Observations, vol. i. p. 246; Lerminier, Philos. du Droit, vol. i. p. 265; Boulainvilliers, Hist. de l'Ancien Gouvernement, vol. iii. pp. 147–150; Guizot, Civilisation en France, vol. iv. pp. 134, 135; Courson, Hist. des Peuples Brétons, Paris, 1846, vol. ii. p. 350.] they, in his reign, and indeed long after, wielded a power quite unknown in England. Thus, to give only two instances: the right of coining money, which has always been regarded as an attribute of sovereignty, was never allowed in England, even to the greatest nobles.[290 - ‘No subjects ever enjoyed the right of coining silver in England without the royal stamp and superintendence; a remarkable proof of the restraint in which the feudal aristocracy was always held in this country.’ Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. i. p. 154.] But in France it was exercised by many persons independently of the crown, and was not abrogated until the sixteenth century.[291 - Brougham's Polit. Philos. 1849, vol. i. p. 446. In addition to the evidence there given on the right of coinage, see Mably's Observations, vol. i. p. 424, vol. ii. pp. 296, 297; and Turner's Normandy, vol. ii. p. 261.] A similar remark holds good of what was called the right of private war; by virtue of which the nobles were allowed to attack each other, and disturb the peace of the country with the prosecution of their private feuds. In England the aristocracy were never strong enough to have this admitted as a right,[292 - Hallam's Supplemental Notes, pp. 304, 305.] though they too often exercised it as a practice. But in France it became a part of the established law; it was incorporated into the text-books of feudalism, and it is distinctly recognized by Louis IX. and Philip the Fair, – two kings of considerable energy, who did every thing in their power to curtail the enormous authority of the nobles.[293 - ‘Saint-Louis consacra le droit de guerre… Philippe le Bel, qui voulut l'abolir, finit par le rétablir.’ Montlosier, Monarchie Française, vol. i. pp. 127, 202: see also pp. 434, 435, and vol. ii. pp. 435, 436. Mably (Observations, vol. ii. p. 338) mentions ‘lettres-patentes de Philippe-de-Valois du 8 février 1330, pour permettre dans le duché d'Aquitaine les guerres privées,’ &c.; and he adds, ‘le 9 avril 1353 le roi Jean renouvelle l'ordonnance de S. Louis, nommée la quarantaine du roi, touchant les guerres privées.’]

Out of this difference between the aristocratic power of France and England, there followed many consequences of great importance. In our country the nobles, being too feeble to contend with the crown, were compelled, in self-defence, to ally themselves with the people.[294 - Sir Francis Palgrave (in his Rise and Progress of the English Commonwealth, vol. i. pp. 51–55) has attempted to estimate the results produced by the Norman Conquest; but he omits to notice this, which was the most important consequence of all.] About a hundred years after the Conquest, the Normans and Saxons amalgamated; and both parties united against the king in order to uphold their common rights.[295 - On this political union between Norman barons and Saxon citizens, of which the first clear indication is at the end of the twelfth century, compare Campbell's Chancellors, vol. i. p. 113, with Brougham's Polit. Philos. vol. i. p. 339, vol. iii. p. 222.In regard to the general question of the amalgamation of races, we have three distinct kinds of evidence:1st. Towards the end of the twelfth century, a new language began to be formed by blending Norman with Saxon; and English literature, properly so called, dates from the commencement of the thirteenth century. Compare Madden's Preface to Layamon, 1847, vol. i. pp. xx. xxi., with Turner's Hist. of England, vol. viii. pp. 214, 217, 436, 437.2nd. We have the specific statement of a writer in the reign of Henry II., that ‘sic permixtæ sunt nationes ut vix discerni possit hodie, de liberis loquor, quis Anglicus, quis Normannus sit genere.’ Note in Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 106.3rd. Before the thirteenth century had passed away, the difference of dress, which in that state of society would survive many other differences, was no longer observed, and the distinctive peculiarities of Norman and Saxon attire had disappeared. See Strutt's View of the Dress and Habits of the People of England, vol. ii. p. 67, edit. Planché, 1842, 4to.] The Magna Charta, which John was forced to yield contained concessions to the aristocracy; but its most important stipulations were those in favour of ‘all classes of freemen.’[296 - ‘An equal distribution of civil rights to all classes of freemen forms the peculiar beauty of the charter.’ Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 108. This is very finely noticed in one of Lord Chatham's great speeches. Parl. Hist. vol. xvi. p. 662.] Within half a century, fresh contests broke out; the barons were again associated with the people, and again there followed the same results, – the extension of popular privileges being each time the condition and the consequence of this singular alliance. In the same way, when the Earl of Leicester raised a rebellion against Henry III., he found his own party too weak to make head against the crown. He, therefore, applied to the people:[297 - Compare Meyer, Instit. Judic. vol. ii. p. 39, with Lingard's England, vol. ii. p. 127, and Somers Tracts, vol. vi. p. 92.] and it is to him that our House of Commons owes its origin; since he, in 1264, set the first example of issuing writs to cities and boroughs; thus calling upon citizens and burgesses to take their place in what had hitherto been a parliament composed entirely of priests and nobles.[298 - ‘He is to be honoured as the founder of a representative system of government in this country.’ Campbell's Chief-Justices, vol. i. p. 61. Some writers (see, for instance, Dalrymple's Hist. of Feudal Property, p. 332) suppose that burgesses were summoned before the reign of Henry III.: but this assertion is not only unsupported by evidence, but is in itself improbable; because at an early period the citizens, though rapidly increasing in power, were hardly important enough to warrant such a step being taken. The best authorities are now agreed to refer the origin of the House of Commons to the period mentioned in the text. See Hallam's Supplement, Notes, pp. 335–339; Spence's Origin of the Laws of Europe, p. 512; Campbell's Chancellors, vol. i. p. 155; Lingard's England, vol. ii. p. 138; Guizot's Essais, p. 319. The notion of tracing this to the wittenagemot is as absurd as finding the origin of juries in the system of compurgators; both of which were favourite errors in the seventeenth, and even in the eighteenth century. In regard to the wittenagemot, this idea still lingers among antiquaries: but, in regard to compurgators, even they have abandoned their old ground, and it is now well understood that trial by jury did not exist till long after the Conquest. Compare Palgrave's English Commonwealth, part i. pp. 243 seq., with Meyer, Instit. Judic. vol. ii. pp. 152–173. There are few things in our history so irrational as the admiration expressed by a certain class of writers for the institutions of our barbarous Anglo-Saxon ancestors.]

The English aristocracy being thus forced, by their own weakness, to rely on the people,[299 - Montlosier, with the fine spirit of a French noble, taunts the English aristocracy with this: ‘En France la noblesse, attaquée sans cesse, s'est défendue sans cesse. Elle a subi l'oppression; elle ne l'a point acceptée. En Angleterre, elle a couru dès la première commotion, se réfugier dans les rangs des bourgeois, et sous leur protection. Elle a abdiqué ainsi son existence.’ Montlosier, Monarchie Française, vol. iii. p. 162. Compare an instructive passage in De Staël, Consid. sur la Révolution, vol. i. p. 421.] it naturally followed, that the people imbibed that tone of independence, and that lofty bearing, of which our civil and political institutions are the consequence, rather than the cause. It is to this, and not to any fanciful peculiarity of race, that we owe the sturdy and enterprising spirit for which the inhabitants of this island have long been remarkable. It is this which has enabled us to baffle all the arts of oppression, and to maintain for centuries liberties which no other nation has ever possessed. And it is this which has fostered and upheld those great municipal privileges, which, whatever be their faults, have, at least, the invaluable merit of accustoming free men to the exercise of power, giving to citizens the management of their own city, and perpetuating the idea of independence, by preserving it in a living type, and by enlisting in its support the interests and affections of individual men.

But the habits of self-government which, under these circumstances, were cultivated in England, were, under opposite circumstances, neglected in France. The great French lords being too powerful to need the people, were unwilling to seek their alliance.[300 - See some good remarks in Mably, Observations sur l'Hist. de France, vol. iii. pp. 114, 115.] The result was, that, amid a great variety of forms and names, society was, in reality, only divided into two classes – the upper and the lower, the protectors and the protected. And, looking at the ferocity of the prevailing manners, it is not too much to say, that in France, under the feudal system, every man was either a tyrant or a slave. Indeed, in most instances, the two characters were combined in the same person. For, the practice of subinfeudation, which in our country was actively checked, became in France almost universal.[301 - Hallam's Middle Ages, vol. i. p. 111.] By this, the great lords having granted lands on condition of fealty and other services to certain persons, these last subgranted them; that is, made them over on similar conditions to other persons, who had likewise the power of bestowing them on a fourth party, and so on in an endless series;[302 - ‘Originally there was no limit to subinfeudation.’ Brougham's Polit. Philos. vol. i. p. 279.] thus forming a long chain of dependence, and, as it were, organizing submission into a system.[303 - A living French historian boasts that, in his own country, ‘toute la société féodale formait ainsi une échelle de clientelle et de patronage.’ Cassagnac, Révolution Française, vol. i. p. 459.] In England, on the other hand, such arrangements were so unsuited to the general state of affairs, that it is doubtful if they were ever carried on to any extent; and, at all events, it is certain that, in the reign of Edward I., they were finally stopped by the statute known to lawyers as Quia emptores.[304 - This is 18 Edw. I. c. 1; respecting which, see Blackstone's Comment. vol. ii. p. 91, vol. iv. p. 425; Reeve's Hist. of English Law, vol. ii. p. 223; Dalrymple's Hist. of Feudal Property, pp. 102, 243, 340.]

Thus early was there a great social divergence between France and England. The consequences of this were still more obvious when, in the fourteenth century, the feudal system rapidly decayed in both countries. For in England, the principle of protection being feeble, men were in some degree accustomed to self-government; and they were able to hold fast by those great institutions which would have been ill adapted to the more obedient habits of the French people. Our municipal privileges, the rights of our yeomanry, and the security of our copyholders, were, from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries, the three most important guarantees for the liberties of England.[305 - The history of the decay of that once most important class, the English yeomanry, is an interesting subject, and one for which I have collected considerable materials; at present, I will only say, that its decline was first distinctly perceptible in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and was consummated by the rapidly-increasing power of the commercial and manufacturing classes early in the eighteenth century. After losing their influence, their numbers naturally diminished, and they made way for other bodies of men, whose habits of mind were less prejudiced, and therefore better suited to that new state which society assumed in the last age. I mention this, because some writers regret the almost total destruction of the yeoman freeholders; overlooking the fact, that they are disappearing, not in consequence of any violent revolution or stretch of arbitrary power, but simply by the general march of affairs; society doing away with what it no longer requires. Compare Kay's Social Condition of the People, vol. i. pp. 43, 602, with a letter from Wordsworth in Bunbury's Correspond. of Hanmer, p. 440; a note in Mill's Polit. Econ. vol. i. pp. 311, 312; another in Nichols's Lit. Anec. vol. v. p. 323; and Sinclair's Correspond. vol. i. p. 229.] In France such guarantees were impossible. The real division being between those who were noble, and those who were not noble, no room was left for the establishment of intervening classes; but all were compelled to fall into one of these two great ranks.[306 - This is stated as an admitted fact by French writers living in different periods and holding different opinions; but all agreed as to there being only two divisions: ‘comme en France on est toujours ou noble, ou roturier, et qu'il n'y a pas de milieu.’ Mém. de Rivarol, p. 7. ‘La grande distinction des nobles et des roturiers.’ Giraud, Précis de l'Ancien Droit, p. 10. Indeed, according to the Coutumes, the nobles and roturiers attained their majority at different ages. Klimrath, Hist. du Droit, vol. ii. p. 249 (erroneously stated in Story's Conflict of Laws, pp. 56, 79, 114). See further respecting this capital distinction, Mém. de Duplessis Mornay, vol. ii. p. 230 (‘agréable à la noblesse et au peuple’); Œuvres de Turgot, vol. viii. pp. 222, 232, 237; Bunbury's Correspond. of Hanmer, p. 256; Mably, Observations, vol. iii. p. 263; and Mercier sur Rousseau, vol. i. p. 38: ‘On étoit roturier, vilain, homme de néant, canaille, dès qu'on ne s'appelloit plus marquis, baron, comte, chevalier, etc.’] The French have never had any thing answering to our yeomanry; nor were copyholders recognized by their laws. And, although they attempted to introduce into their country municipal institutions, all such efforts were futile; for, while they copied the forms of liberty, they lacked that bold and sturdy spirit by which alone liberty can be secured. They had, indeed, its image and superscription; but they wanted the sacred fire that warms the image into life. Every thing else they possessed. The show and appliances of freedom were there. Charters were granted to their towns, and privileges conceded to their magistrates. All, however, was useless. For it is not by the wax and parchment of lawyers that the independence of men can be preserved. Such things are the mere externals; they set off liberty to advantage; they are as its dress and paraphernalia, its holiday-suit in times of peace and quiet. But, when the evil days set in, when the invasions of despotism have begun, liberty will be retained, not by those who can show the oldest deeds and the largest charters, but by those who have been most inured to habits of independence, most accustomed to think and act for themselves, and most regardless of that insidious protection which the upper classes have always been so ready to bestow, that, in many countries, they have now left nothing worth the trouble to protect.

And so it was in France. The towns, with few exceptions, fell at the first shock; and the citizens lost those municipal privileges which, not being grafted on the national character, it was found impossible to preserve. In the same way, in our country, power naturally, and by the mere force of the democratic movement, fell into the hands of the House of Commons; whose authority has ever since, notwithstanding occasional checks, continued to increase at the expense of the more aristocratic parts of the legislature. The only institution answering to this in France was the States-General; which, however, had so little influence, that, in the opinion of native historians, it was hardly to be called an institution at all.[307 - ‘Les états-généraux sont portés dans la liste de nos institutions. Je ne sais cependant s'il est permis de donner ce nom à des rassemblemens aussi irréguliers.’ Montlosier, Monarchie Française, vol. i. p. 266. ‘En France, les états-généraux, au moment même de leur plus grand éclat, c'est à dire dans le cours du xive siècle, n'ont guère été que des accidents, un pouvoir national et souvent invoqué, mais non un établissement constitutionnel.’ Guizot, Essais, p. 253. See also Mably, Observations, vol. iii. p. 147; and Sismondi, Hist. des Français, vol. xiv. p. 642.] Indeed, the French were, by this time, so accustomed to the idea of protection, and to the subordination which that idea involves, that they were little inclined to uphold an establishment which, in their constitution, was the sole representative of the popular element. The result was, that, by the fourteenth century, the liberties of Englishmen were secured;[308 - This is frankly admitted by one of the most candid and enlightened of all the foreign writers on our history, Guizot, Essais, p. 297: ‘En 1307, les droits qui devaient enfanter en Angleterre un gouvernement libre étaient définitivement reconnus.’] and, since then, their only concern has been to increase what they have already obtained. But in that same century, in France, the protective spirit assumed a new form; the power of the aristocracy was, in a great measure, succeeded by the power of the crown; and there began that tendency to centralization which, having been pushed still further, first under Louis XIV., and afterwards under Napoleon, has become the bane of the French people.[309 - See an account of the policy of Philip the Fair, in Mably, Observations, vol. ii. pp. 25–44; in Boulainvilliers, Ancien Gouvernement, vol. i. pp. 292, 314, vol. ii. pp. 37, 38; and in Guizot, Civilisation en France, vol. iv. pp. 170–192. M. Guizot says, perhaps too strongly, that his reign was ‘la métamorphose de la royauté en despotisme,’ On the connexion of this with the centralizing movement, see Tocqueville's Démocratie, vol. i. p. 307: ‘Le goût de la centralisation et la manie réglementaire remontent, en France, à l'époque où les légistes sont entrés dans le gouvernement; ce qui nous reporte au temps de Philippe le Bel.’ Tennemann also notices, that in his reign the ‘Rechtstheorie’ began to exercise influence; but this learned writer takes a purely metaphysical view, and has therefore misunderstood the more general social tendency. Gesch. der Philos. vol. viii. p. 823.] For by it the feudal ideas of superiority and submission have long survived that barbarous age to which alone they were suited. Indeed, by their transmigration, they seemed to have gained fresh strength. In France, every thing is referred to one common centre, in which all civil functions are absorbed. All improvements of any importance, all schemes for bettering even the material condition of the people must receive the sanction of government; the local authorities not being considered equal to such arduous tasks. In order that inferior magistrates may not abuse their power, no power is conferred upon them. The exercise of independent jurisdiction is almost unknown. Every thing that is done must be done at head quarters.[310 - As several writers on law notice this system with a lenient eye Origines du Droit Français, in Œuvres de Michelet, vol. ii. p. 321; and Eschbach, Etude du Droit, p. 129: ‘le système énergique de la centralisation’, it may be well to state how it actually works.Mr. Bulwer, writing twenty years ago, says: ‘Not only cannot a commune determine its own expenses without the consent of the minister or one of his deputed functionaries, it cannot even erect a building, the cost of which shall have been sanctioned, without the plan being adopted by a board of public works attached to the central authority, and having the supervision and direction of every public building throughout the Kingdom.’ Bulwer's Monarchy of the Middle Classes, 1836, vol. ii. p. 262.M. Tocqueville, writing in the present year (1856), says, ‘Sous l'ancien régime, comme de nos jours, il n'y avait ville, bourg, village, ni si petit hameau en France, hôpital, fabrique, couvent ni collège, qui pût avoir une volonté indépendante dans ses affaires particulières, ni administrer à sa volonté ses propres biens. Alors, comme aujourd'hui, l'administration tenait donc tous les Français en tutelle, et si l'insolence du mot ne s'était pas encore produite, on avait du moins déjà la chose.’ Tocqueville, l'Ancien Régime, 1856, pp. 79, 80.] The government is believed to see every thing, know every thing, and provide for every thing. To enforce this monstrous monopoly there has been contrived a machinery well worthy of the design. The entire country is covered by an immense array of officials;[311 - The number of civil functionaries in France, who are paid by the government to trouble the people, passes all belief, being estimated, at different periods during the present century, at from 138,000 to upwards of 800,000. Tocqueville, de la Démocratie, vol. i. p. 220; Alison's Europe, vol. xiv. pp. 127, 140; Kay's Condition of the People, vol. i. p. 272; Laing's Notes, 2d series, p. 185. Mr. Laing, writing in 1850, says: ‘In France, at the expulsion of Louis Philippe, the civil functionaries were stated to amount to 807,030 individuals.’] who, in the regularity of their hierarchy, and in the order of their descending series, form an admirable emblem of that feudal principle, which ceasing to be territorial, has now become personal. In fact, the whole business of the state is conducted on the supposition that no man either knows his own interest, or is fit to take care of himself. So paternal are the feelings of government, so eager for the welfare of its subjects, that it has drawn within its jurisdiction the most rare, as well as the most ordinary, actions of life. In order that the French may not make imprudent wills, it has limited the right of bequest; and, for fear that they should bequeath their property wrongly, it prevents them from bequeathing the greater part of it at all. In order that society may be protected by its police, it has directed that no one shall travel without a passport. And when men are actually travelling, they are met at every turn by the same interfering spirit, which, under pretence of protecting their persons, shackles their liberty. Into another matter, far more serious, the French have carried the same principle. Such is their anxiety to protect society against criminals, that, when an offender is placed at the bar of one of their courts, there is exhibited a spectacle which is no idle boast to say we, in England, could not tolerate for a single hour. There is seen a great public magistrate, by whom the prisoner is about to be tried, examining him in order to ascertain his supposed guilt, re-examining him, cross-examining him, performing the duties, not of a judge, but of a prosecutor, and bringing to bear against the unhappy man all the authority of his judicial position, all his professional subtlety, all his experience, all the dexterity of his practised understanding. This is, perhaps, the most alarming of the many instances in which the tendencies of the French intellect are shown; because it supplies a machinery ready for the purposes of absolute power; because it brings the administration of justice into disrepute, by associating with it an idea of unfairness; and because it injures that calm and equable temper, which it is impossible fully to maintain under a system that makes a magistrate an advocate, and turns the judge into a partizan. But this, mischievous as it is, only forms part of a far larger scheme. For, to the method by which criminals are discovered, there is added an analogous method, by which crime is prevented. With this view, the people, even in their ordinary amusements, are watched and carefully superintended. Lest they should harm each other by some sudden indiscretion, precautions are taken similar to those with which a father might surround his children. In their fairs, at their theatres, their concerts, and their other places of public resort, there are always present soldiers, who are sent to see that no mischief is done, that there is no unnecessary crowding, that no one uses harsh language, that no one quarrels with his neighbour. Nor does the vigilance of the government stop there. Even the education of children is brought under the control of the state, instead of being regulated by the judgment of masters or parents.[312 - ‘The government in France possesses control over all the education of the country, with the exception of the colleges for the education of the clergy, which are termed seminaries, and their subordinate institutions.’ Report on the State of Superior Education in France in 1843, in Journal of Statist. Soc. vol. vi. p. 304. On the steps taken during the power of Napoleon, see Alison's Europe, vol. viii. p. 203: ‘Nearly the whole education of the empire was brought effectually under the direction and appointment of government.’] And the whole plan is executed with such energy, that, as the French while men are never let alone, just so while children they are never left alone.[313 - Much attention is paid to the surveillance of pupils; it being a fundamental principle of French education, that children should never be left alone. Report on General Education in France in 1842, in Journal of Statist. Soc. vol. v. p. 20.] At the same time, it being reasonably supposed that the adults thus kept in pupilage cannot be proper judges of their own food, the government has provided for this also. Its prying eye follows the butcher to the shambles, and the baker to the oven. By its paternal hand, meat is examined lest it should be bad, and bread is weighed lest it should be light. In short, without multiplying instances, with which most readers must be familiar, it is enough to say that in France, as in every country where the protective principle is active, the government has established a monopoly of the worst kind; a monopoly which comes home to the business and bosoms of men, follows them in their daily avocations, troubles them with its petty, meddling spirit, and, what is worse than all, diminishes their responsibility to themselves; thus depriving them of what is the only real education that most minds receive, – the constant necessity of providing for future contingencies, and the habit of grappling with the difficulties of life.

The consequence of all this has been, that the French, though a great and splendid people, – a people full of mettle, high-spirited, abounding in knowledge, and perhaps less oppressed by superstition than any other in Europe, – have always been found unfit to exercise political power. Even when they have possessed it, they have never been able to combine permanence with liberty. One of these two elements has always been wanting. They have had free governments, which have not been stable. They have had stable governments, which have not been free. Owing to their fearless temper, they have rebelled, and no doubt will continue to rebel, against so evil a condition.[314 - A distinguished French author says: ‘La France souffre du mal du siècle; elle en est plus malade qu'aucun autre pays; ce mal c'est la haine de l'autorité.’ Custine, Russie, vol. ii. p. 136. Compare, Rey, Science Sociale, vol. ii. p. 86 note.] But it does not need the tongue of a prophet to tell that, for at least some generations, all such efforts must be unsuccessful. For men can never be free, unless they are educated to freedom. And this is not the education which is to be found in schools, or gained from books; but it is that which consists in self-discipline, in self-reliance, and in self-government. These, in England, are matters of hereditary descent – traditional habits, which we imbibe in our youth, and which regulate us in the conduct of life. The old associations of the French all point in another direction. At the slightest difficulty, they call on the government for support. What with us is competition, with them is monopoly. That which we effect by private companies, they effect by public boards. They cannot cut a canal, or lay down a railroad, without appealing to the government for aid. With them, the people look to the rulers; with us, the rulers look to the people. With them, the executive is the centre from which society radiates;[315 - It is to the activity of this protective and centralizing spirit that we must ascribe, what a very great authority noticed thirty years ago, as ‘le défaut de spontanéité, qui caractérise les institutions de la France moderne.’ Meyer, Instit. Judic. vol. iv. p. 536. It is also this which, in literature and in science, makes them favour the establishment of academies; and it is probably to the same principle that their jurists owe their love of codification. All these are manifestations of an unwillingness to rely on the general march of affairs, and show an undue contempt for the unaided conclusions of private men.] with us, society is the instigator, and the executive the organ. The difference in the result has corresponded with the difference in the process. We have been made fit for political power, by the long exercise of civil rights; they, neglecting the exercise, think they can at once begin with the power. We have always shown a determination to uphold our liberties, and, when the times are fitting, to increase them; and this we have done with a decency and a gravity natural to men to whom such subjects have long been familiar. But the French, always treated as children, are, in political matters, children still. And as they have handled the most weighty concerns in that gay and volatile spirit which adorns their lighter literature, it is no wonder that they have failed in matters where the first condition of success is, that men should have been long accustomed to rely upon their own energies, and that before they try their skill in a political struggle, their resources should have been sharpened by that preliminary discipline, which a contest with the difficulties of civil life can never fail to impart.

These are among the considerations by which we must be guided, in estimating the probable destinies of the great countries of Europe. But what we are now rather concerned with is, to notice how the opposite tendencies of France and England long continued to be displayed in the condition and treatment of their aristocracy; and how from this there naturally followed some striking differences between the war conducted by the Fronde, and that waged by the Long Parliament.

When, in the fourteenth century, the authority of the French kings began rapidly to increase, the political influence of the nobility was, of course, correspondingly diminished. What, however, proves the extent to which their power had taken root, is the undoubted fact, that, notwithstanding this to them unfavourable circumstance, the people were never able to emancipate themselves from their control.[316 - Mably (Observations, vol. iii. pp. 154, 155, 352–362) has collected some striking evidence of the tyranny of the French nobles in the sixteenth century; and as to the wanton cruelty with which they exercised their power in the seventeenth century, see Des Réaux, Historiettes, vol. vii. p. 155, vol. viii. p. 79, vol. ix. pp. 40, 61, 62, vol. x. pp. 255–257. In the eighteenth century, matters were somewhat better; but still the subordination was excessive, and the people were poor, ill-treated, and miserable. Compare Œuvres de Turgot, vol. iv. p. 139; Letter from the Earl of Cork, dated Lyons, 1754, in Burton's Diary, vol. iv. p. 80; the statement of Fox, in Parl. Hist. vol. xxxi. p. 406; Jefferson's Correspond. vol. ii. p. 45; and Smith's Tour on the Continent, edit. 1793, vol. iii. pp. 201, 202.] The relation the nobles bore to the throne became entirely changed; that which they bore to the people remained almost the same. In England, slavery, or villenage, as it is mildly termed, quickly diminished, and was extinct by the end of the sixteenth century.[317 - Mr. Eccleston (English Antiq. p. 138) says, that in 1450 ‘villenage had almost passed away;’ and according to Mr. Thornton (Over-Population, p. 182), ‘Sir Thomas Smith, who wrote about the year 1550, declares that he had never met with any personal or domestic slaves; and that the villains, or predial slaves, still to be found, were so few, as to be scarcely worth mentioning.’ Mr. Hallam can find no ‘unequivocal testimony to the existence of villenage’ later than 1574. Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 312; see, to the same effect, Barrington on the Statutes, pp. 308, 309. If, however, my memory does not deceive me, I have met with evidence of it in the reign of James I., but I cannot recall the passage.] In France, it lingered on two hundred years later, and was only destroyed in that great Revolution by which the possessors of ill-gotten power were called to so sharp an account.[318 - M. Cassagnac (Causes de la Révolution, vol. iii. p. 11) says: ‘Chose surprenante, il y avait encore, au 4 août 1789, un million cinq cent mille serfs de corps;’ and M. Giraud (Précis de l'Ancien Droit, Paris, 1852, p. 3), ‘jusqu'à la révolution une division fondamentale partageait les personnes en personnes libres et personnes sujettes à condition servile.’ A few years before the Revolution, this shameful distinction was abolished by Louis XVI. in his own domains. Compare Eschbach, Etude du Droit, pp. 271, 272, with Du Mesnil, Mém. sur le Prince le Brun, p. 94. I notice this particularly, because M. Monteil, a learned and generally accurate writer, supposes that the abolition took place earlier than it really did. Hist. des divers Etats, vol. vi. p. 101.] Thus, too, until the last seventy years, the nobles were in France exempt from those onerous taxes which oppressed the people. The taille and corvée were heavy and grievous exactions, but they fell solely on men of ignoble birth;[319 - Cassagnac, de la Révolution, vol. i. pp. 122, 173; Giraud, Ancien Droit, p. 11; Soulavie, Mém. de Louis XVI, vol. vi. p. 156; Mém. au Roi sur les Municipalités, in Œuvres de Turgot, vol. vii. p. 423; Mém. de Genlis, vol. i. p. 200.Further information respecting the amount and nature of these vexatious impositions will be found in De Thou, Hist. Univ. vol. xiii. p. 24, vol. xiv. p. 118; Saint-Aulaire, Hist. de la Fronde, vol. i. p. 125; Tocqueville, Ancien Régime, pp. 135, 191, 420, 440; Sully, Œconomies Royales, vol. ii. p. 412, vol. iii. p. 226, vol. iv. p. 199, vol. v. pp. 339, 410, vol. vi. p. 94; Relat. des Ambassad. Vénit. vol. i. p. 96; Mably, Observations, vol. iii. pp. 355, 356; Boulainvilliers, Ancien Gouvernement, vol. iii. p. 109; Le Vassor, Hist. de Louis XIII, vol. ii. p. 29; Mém. d'Omer Talon, vol. ii. pp. 103, 369; Mém. de Montglat, vol. i. p. 82; Tocqueville, Règne de Louis XV, vol. i. pp. 87, 332; Œuvres de Turgot, vol. i. p. 372, vol. iv. pp. 58, 59, 74, 75, 242, 278, vol. v. pp. 226, 242, vol. vi. p. 144, vol. viii. pp. 152, 280.] for the French aristocracy, being a high and chivalrous race, would have deemed it an insult to their illustrious descent, if they had been taxed to the same amount as those whom they despised as their inferiors.[320 - So deeply rooted were these feelings, that, even in 1789, the very year the Revolution broke out, it was deemed a great concession that the nobles ‘will consent, indeed, to equal taxation.’ See a letter from Jefferson to Jay, dated Paris, May 9th, 1789, in Jefferson's Corresp. vol. ii. pp. 462, 463. Compare Mercier sur Rousseau, vol. i. p. 136.] Indeed, every thing tended to nurture this general contempt. Every thing was contrived to humble one class, and exalt the other. For the nobles there were reserved the best appointments in the church, and also the most important military posts.[321 - ‘Les nobles, qui avaient le privilége exclusif des grandes dignités et des gros bénéfices.’ Mém. de Rivarol, p. 97: see also Mém. de Bouillé, vol. i. p. 56; Lemontey, Etablissement Monarchique, p. 337; Daniel, Hist. de la Milice Françoise, vol. ii. p. 556; Campan, Mém. sur Marie-Antoinette, vol. i. pp. 238, 239.] The privilege of entering the army as officers was confined to them;[322 - ‘L'ancien régime n'avait admis que des nobles pour officiers.’ Mém. de Roland, vol. i. p. 398. Ségur mentions that, early in the reign of Louis XVI., ‘les nobles seuls avaient le droit d'entrer au service comme sous-lieutenans.’ Mém. de Ségur, vol. i. p. 65. Compare pp. 117, 265–271, with Mém. de Genlis, vol. iii. p. 74, and De Staël, Consid. sur la Rév. vol. i. p. 123.] and they alone possessed a prescriptive right to belong to the cavalry.[323 - Thus, De Thou says of Henry III., ‘il remet sous l'ancien pied la cavalerie ordinaire, qui n'étoit composée que de la noblesse.’ Hist. Univ. vol. ix. pp. 202, 203; and see vol. x. pp. 504, 505, vol. xiii. p. 22; and an imperfect statement of the same fact in Boullier, Hist. des divers Corps de la Maison Militaire des Rois de France, Paris, 1818, p. 58, a superficial work on an uninteresting subject.] At the same time, and to avoid the least chance of confusion, an equal vigilance was displayed in the most trifling matters, and care was taken to prevent any similarity, even in the amusements of the two classes. To such a pitch was this brought, that, in many parts of France, the right of having an aviary or a dovecote depended entirely on a man's rank; and no Frenchman, whatever his wealth might be, could keep pigeons, unless he were a noble; it being considered that these recreations were too elevated for persons of plebeian origin.[324 - M. Tocqueville (L'Ancien Régime, p. 448) mentions, among other regulations still in force late in the eighteenth century, that ‘en Dauphiné, en Bretagne, en Normandie, il est prohibé à tout roturier d'avoir des colombiers, fuies et volière; il n'y a que les nobles qui puissent avoir des pigeons.’]