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 LIBRARY 
 
 GIVEN BY 
 
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GENERAL 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 I N K u n O P E^^ 
 
 FROM THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 M. GUIZOT, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF HISTORY TO LA FACfLTE DES LETTRES OF PARIS AND MINISTER 
 OF PL'BLIC INSTRUCTI3N. 
 
 EECOND AXERICAN FRO.M THE SECOND ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 N E W - Y O R K : 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. 
 1840. 
 
aiPT 
 
 
 University Press — John F. Trow, Pr, 
 
 114 Nassau-Btreet. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 It has been somewhere observed, that next to the study of 
 religion, which shows us our relations with God, and how we may 
 become citizens of an immortal kingdom, the most profitable and 
 urgent duty of man is the study of politics, or his relations with 
 his fellow-creatures, and the duties by which he may expect hap- 
 piness and well-being in the terrestrial kingdom of which he may 
 happen to be a member. If this be allowed to pass for truth, no 
 apology will be required for the attempt to bring within the power 
 of the English reader the following lectures of Professor Guizot, 
 calculated, as they are, in their whole scope and tenor, to exalt, 
 establish, and render more beautiful, the whole frame-work of the 
 great social system to which we belong, and which has secured 
 to us so many of the rights and privileges of citizens, so many 
 of the blessings of Christianity. 
 
 But even with a less general admission than this, the work of 
 M. Guizot must be considered as a boon to mankind. It is a work 
 of peace. Its pervading idea is not to point out certain elements 
 in our social system, or forms in our government to be destroyed, 
 but how, with a proper respect for the character and rights of 
 every part and form of society, we may make them all conducive 
 to the welfare and happiness of man as an individual and social 
 being: the very essence of civilization consisting, in our author's 
 opinion, in the improvement of men as individuals, and the im- 
 provement of the conditions by which they are incorporated into 
 societies. 
 
 The object of M. Guizot's work is to give a general view of 
 European civilization, in this, the true sense of the word, from 
 the fall of the Roman Empire and the invasion of the barbarians 
 
IV TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. 
 
 to the present time. The manner in which he has executed this 
 task is original, grand, and philosophical. He has sought out 
 and placed before his reader ti)e elementary principles of which 
 the present social system of Europe is formed. He has shown 
 how essentially this system differs from all others, ancient oi* mo- 
 dern ; and he accounts for it from the great diversity of materials 
 of which it is composed. He makes to pass in review before us 
 what it derived from the Roman Empire, what was brought into 
 it by the barbarians, by the feudal aristocracy, by the Church, by 
 free cities and communities, and by royalty ; all these he consi- 
 ders as so many ingredients, by the mixing, pounding, and fusion 
 of which, the present state of society has been produced ; a soci- 
 ety, on this very account, superior to any which ever existed 
 before, and which is still progressing towards perfection. But 
 M. Guizot's lectures are not confined to a mere nomenclature of 
 these ingredients ; he describes the seeds from which these ele- 
 ments of our civilization have sprung, the soil by which they 
 have been nourished, the fruits which they have borne, the parts 
 of them which are good and profitable for civilization, and, there- 
 fore, to be prized and preserved ; and those which, on the con- 
 trary, are noxious or useless, and therefore to be cast away or 
 destroyed. To this he adds the effects produced by the fusion 
 and opposition of these various principles ; and, in tracing out 
 these, he gives us concise, but brilliant sketches of the several 
 great events which have had a marked influence upon the desti- 
 nies of Europe, among which stand most conspicuous, the Cru- 
 sades, the Reformation, the English Revolution, and some others. 
 All these are treated in an original and masterly manner ; indeed, 
 the Fourteen Lectures in which the History of European Civili- 
 zation is contained, are fourteen great historical pictures ; every 
 one portraying some striking and important fact or event, and dis- 
 playing, not only in the grouping and throwing out of the principal 
 subject, but likewise in the introduction, disposal, and finish of the 
 minuter details, the conception, the skill, and ihe workmanship of 
 a master. Slill the work is strictly a unity. In the fourteen pic- 
 tures collectively, you have one great and entire subject — the His- 
 tory of Civilization in Europe ; and that so told as cannot fail to 
 please and instruct the historian, the student, and the philosopher. 
 The diffusion of J^l. Guizot's work must, it is believed, be bene- 
 
ficial as respects both morals and politics. His first precept to 
 us is, be grateful for the slate of society in which you are placed. 
 During- the fifteen centuries tliat civilization has been advancing^ 
 man has never been, either physically or intelleciflaily, so inde- 
 pendent, so well-conditioned, as at the present moment. This, 
 however, should make us neither rash nor inactive ; torpidity and 
 violence are both evils ; but while labouring to advance our civil- 
 ization, we must ever remember that justice, legitimacy, publi- 
 city, and liberty, are necessary conditions of its existence. 
 
 The moderation of M. Guizot is as condemnatory of the party 
 that would keep society stationary, as it is of that which would 
 drive it too fast — of that which would force it along with such 
 reckless fury as must make the boldest of those to quake who 
 value its safety. Must we look only to experience ; to what has 
 been 1 no, — else how can we improve ! Much less must we fix 
 our eye upon some beau ideal of society, some beautiful, fine- 
 spun theory, regardless of the impossibility of moulding the mate- 
 rials which we have to work up into its form. 
 
 Experience has made nothing more certain than the danger of 
 whirling a society along too rapidly, even in the way of truth. 
 Every nation has its usages, its affections, its traditions ; in the 
 judgment of the wise its usages may be mixed with abuses, its 
 affections altogether or, partly ill-placed, its traditions false; yet 
 it requires all the skill of the legislator to deal with these evils — 
 it is not enough that they are seen by the enlightened few ; the 
 many must be instructed and convinced, they must judge and 
 condemn them, before they can be legitimately destroyed. It is 
 no less dangerous in a state to deny too long the cravings of its 
 imagination ; to stem the current of its passion ; it is not very 
 often that these are altogether misdirected ; and where they are, 
 intelligence and reason are the only means by which they can be 
 turned to a proper object, or cured. 
 
 Legislators should ever bear in mind, that they are not called 
 upon to expound and prove a theory. They are called to act upon, 
 and for, a community which has been given to them ; not to create 
 one. Nations exist, but it is not legislators who have called them 
 into existence ; nations exist, and every nation has a constitution, 
 taking this word in its widest s'gnification, because it exists 
 This constitution the legislator may touch with the file, but never 
 
VI 
 
 with tliG axe. It is his duty to render it continually better 
 adapted for llie improvement and happiness of man ; but in doing 
 this, he must be careful of risking that life which it is beyond 
 his power tofestore, and which may, perhaps, depend upon some 
 organ that he may wish to correct or suppress. It is his duty 
 above all things to respect the life of the political body, such as 
 it exists ; and he must do the same by all such of its members as 
 appear endowed with life. He is a conservator, and not a crea- 
 tor. It is not for him to demand whether royalty, nobility, the 
 clergy, popular assemblies, municipal corporations, should exist 
 or not in the constitution which he has to guide. It is necessary, 
 it is essential that he should be well acquainted with all these 
 matters in the abstract, that he should have as correct an idea as 
 possible of their merits and defects ; but he must remember that 
 these are facts wliich every nation presents under different condi- 
 tions, and that probably the life of the nation for which he labours 
 is attached to these facts. 
 
 Social science is not yet so far advanced that we can know 
 positively to what extent the powers which we see in a state are 
 necessary to its existence. Nothing, it is true, is immutable in 
 the world of politics ; and the various powers in a state may per- 
 haps at times require to be modified or re-adjusted ; but the 
 greatest caution must here be observed ; no power must suffer 
 privation till it has first been judged by the general interest and 
 intelligence of society ; the length of its prior existence, and the 
 degree of prosperity and liberty the stare has enjoyed while it 
 has formed part of its life, giving it a proportionate claim to 
 consideration, and, for the safety of all, the right of resistance. 
 
 Government, when it is rational, to promote civilization, must 
 respect and protect that which it finds in a state ; but it must, at 
 the same time, prepare the means for its growth, for its trans- 
 formation, into that which it should be. This is always its two- 
 fold, its legitimate object. It must show its respect for liberty, 
 and endeavour to strengthen it, by uniting into one single being, 
 all the minds, all the wills of the nation ; but while doing this, to 
 ensure the safety and happiness of society, it must make choice of 
 such to execute its various functions as will best perform them for 
 the good of the nation ; it must give a decisive influence to those 
 who have talents, virtues, abilities, experience ; to those, in short, 
 
vu 
 
 who, most interested in the destinies of a society, will enable it 
 to accomplish most surely its perilous passage through the rocks 
 and shallows in its course. 
 
 Society, in order to attain its object", has need of the highest 
 virtues, coupled with the greatest abilities. But where has it 
 been demonstrated that these exist in the multitude 1 where is it 
 showrr that the most enlightened views will be adopted by the 
 mob] that the firmness of the most patient will bear with its in- 
 solence? that the prudence of the most skilful will be able to 
 regulate its impetuosity ? that we shall be able to discover in its 
 proceedings that unity of design, that foresight, that perseverance 
 and liberality, so necessary to the success of all great schemes ; 
 that economy, in the management of the national finance, without 
 which it must itself suffer ] Experience answers these ques- 
 tions ; for the history of every free nation bears witness to the 
 inconstancy, the rashness, the p&nic terrors, the prodigality and 
 niggardness of the multitude. 
 
 Constitutional government, however, is the co-operation of the 
 various powers in a state, and not their separation. It requires 
 not aristocracy to be opposed to democracy, nor democracy to 
 make war upon aristocracy. Neither is it the balance of th^ 
 various forces, but their union. It requires nothing, in short, but 
 that one single will should be brought out from the fusion of va- 
 rious wills ; but then to obtain this single will every class of so- 
 ciety must be heard, all their interests must be consulted, all their 
 causes must be pleaded ; and upon every question, the highest 
 virtue to be found in the country, enlightened by the highest in- 
 telligence, must pronounce judgment without appeal. 
 
 Happy and lasting will be the country that so governs itself; 
 for though every human institution is likely to have an end, as 
 well as a beginning, yet the time of its duration is not fixed, and 
 no nation can suffer internal decay but by the vices of its citi- 
 zens. It is only when man shall have attained the highest state 
 of his terrestrial existence, that we shall be able with safety to 
 speculate upon the possible duration of a community. Who can 
 say what may be the effect of the diffusion of intelligence among 
 aZ/ the orders of a state? This is an experiment wiiich at least 
 demands a trial, and its gradual approach brightens the prospects 
 of humanity. 
 
VIU TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. 
 
 For ourselves, let us bear in mind that men of virtue, integrity, 
 and abilities, are well situated in whatever place their lot may be 
 cast. In all the ups and downs of fortune, they at least reap the 
 principal enjoyments of their nature; they are the happy instru- 
 ments chosen by Providence to carry forward the work of civili- 
 zation, to meliorate the condition of society, and promote the hap- 
 piness of man. We may furthermore feel assured, that ^hile a 
 Btatc shall have a succession of such for its citizens, it shall be 
 immortal — it can never die. 
 
 Oxford, 
 8th March, 1837. 
 
 •.* It should perhaps be stated, that one or two of the later lectures arc 
 not translated by the same hand as the rest, though, to ensure uniformity, he has 
 carefully revised them. 
 
ANALYTICAL TABLE . OF CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 CIVILIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 Object of the course 
 
 History of European civilization 
 
 Part taken in it by France 
 
 Civilization may be recounted 
 
 Forms the most general and interest- 
 ing fact of history 
 
 Popular and usual meaning of the 
 word civilization 
 
 Civilization consists of two principal 
 facts : — 1st. The progress of soci- 
 ety ; 2d. The progress of indi- 
 viduals 
 
 Proofs of this assertion 
 
 That these two facts are necessarily 
 connected to one another, and 
 sooner or later produce one an- 
 other 26 
 
 The entire destiny of man not con- 
 tained in his present or social 
 condition 30 
 
 Two ways of considering and writ- 
 ing the history of civilization 31 
 
 A few words upon the plan of this 
 course 33 
 
 Of the actual stale of opinion, and of 
 the future, as regards civilization 34 
 
 LECTURE II. 
 
 OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION ; — IN PARTICULAR ITS DISTINGUISHED CHARAC- 
 TERISTICS — ITS SUPERIOKITY— ITS ELEMENTS. 
 
 Object of the lecture 36 
 
 Unity of ancient civilization 38 
 
 Variety of modern civilization 39 
 
 Superiority of the latter 42 
 
 State of Europe at the Fall of the 
 
 Roman Empire 43 
 
 Preponderance of cities 44 
 
 Attem[)ts at political reform made by 
 
 the emperors 46 
 
 Rescripts of Honorius and Theodo- 
 
 sins II. 47 
 
 Power in the name of empire 48 
 
 Thr Christian Church 49 
 
 The various stales in which it had 
 existed down to the fifth century. 51 
 
 The clergy possessed of municipal 
 offices 53 
 
 Good and evil influence of the 
 
 church 56 
 
 The BAtiBARiANS 57 
 
 They introduce into the modern 
 world the sentiments of personal 
 
 independence and loyalty 
 
 Sketch of the various elements of 
 civiliz-ition at the beginning of 
 the fifth century 
 
 59 
 
 61 
 
 LECTURE in. 
 OF POLITICAL LEGITIMACY — CO-EXloTENCE OF ALL THE SYSTEMS OF GOV- 
 ERNMENT IN THE FIFTH CENTURY — ATTEMPTS TO HE-ORGANIZE SOCIETY. 
 
 All the various systems of civiliza- 
 tion lay claim to legitimacy 
 
 Explanation of political legitimacy. 
 
 Co-existence of all tlie various sys- 
 tem? of government in the fifth 
 century 
 
 Instabihty of the state of persons, 
 estates, domains, and institu- 
 tions 
 
 Two causes— one material, the con- 
 tinuation of the invasions 73 
 
 A. second moral, the sentiment of 
 egotist individualism, peculiar to 
 the barbarians 75 
 
 71 
 
 The elementary principles of civili- 
 zation have been, 
 
 1. The want of older 
 
 2. Remembrances of the empire. 
 
 3. The Christian Church 
 
 4. The barbarians 
 
 Attempts at organization 
 
 1. By the barbarians 
 
 2. By the cities 
 
 3. By the church of Sjjain 
 
 4. By Charlemagne— Alfred 
 
 The German and Saracen invasion 
 
 arre.5ted 
 
 The feudal system begins 
 
 85 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. 
 
 Necessary alliance of fac:s and of the feudal syslem 102 
 
 theories 87 1st. iNo great authoniy 104 
 
 Prepondeianceof country life 92 '2d. Ni. public power 105 
 
 Orsaiiizaii.in of a litde fii.lal society 94 3d. Difficulties of the federative 
 
 Influence of feudalism upi>ri the di.s- system 107 
 
 position of a proprieior of afief 05 Right of res^islance inherent in the 
 
 Upon Ilic spirit of family % feudal system 108 
 
 Hatred of (lie people for llic feudal Influence of feudalism good for the 
 
 system 99 development of individual man 110 
 
 Priestscoulddobut little for the serfs 101 Bad for social order 110 
 
 Impossibility of regular organization 
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 Religion a principle of association. . 113 
 Force not essential to govenmiLUi. • 114 
 Conditions necessary to tlie hgiti- 
 
 macy of a. government 115 
 
 1. Powor in the hands of the most 
 worthy 118 
 
 2. A respect f)r the liberties of the 
 governed 119 
 
 The church being a corporation and 
 not a caste, answered to the first 
 oflho?e coridiiion.s 123 
 
 Various modes of nomination and 
 election in the church 12G 
 
 It failed in the second condition by 
 
 the unlawful extension of the 
 
 principle of authority 127 
 
 And by itd abusive employment of 
 
 force 129 
 
 Activity and liberty of mind vtilhin 
 
 th- chuich 130 
 
 Connection of the church with 
 
 princes 132 
 
 Principle o| the independence of 
 
 spiritual authority 133 
 
 Claims of the church to dominion 
 
 over temporal powers 135 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 THE CHKISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 Separation of the governing and tlie 
 
 governed in the church 139 
 
 Indirect influence of the laity upon 
 the churcfi 142 
 
 The clerical body recruited from all 
 ranks of society 144 
 
 Influence of the church on public 
 order anri leijislation 146 
 
 Its sy.>tem of penitence 149 
 
 The projrress of the human mind 
 purely thpological 151 
 
 The church ranges itself on the side 
 
 of authority 154 
 
 Not astoMi.5liing— the object of reli- 
 gion i.s to regulate human liberty 155 
 
 Various states of the church from 
 
 the fifth to the twelfth century 157 
 
 1. The imperial cliurch 157 
 
 2. The bartiarian cliurch— develop- 
 
 ment '>f the principle of the 
 separation of the two powers 158 
 The monasiic orders 159 
 
 3. Tlie feudal church 160 
 
 At'empr.s at organization 101 
 
 Want of reform 161 
 
 Gregory VII. 162 
 
 4. The ilieocralic church 103 
 
 Revival of free inquiry 164 
 
 Abelard, &c 164 
 
 Agitaiion in the municipalities 165 
 No connection between these 
 
 two facts 165 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 RISE OF FRKE CITIES. 
 
 A sketch of the different states of 
 citie«, in the twelfth and eigh- 
 teenth centuries 107 
 
 Twof .Id questiim : — 
 
 1st. Affrandiisement of cities 172 
 
 State ot cities from the fiuh to the 
 
 tenth centuries 173 
 
 Their ilecline and revival 173 
 
 Insurrection of the comtnons 173 
 
 Charters 179 
 
 Social and moral effects of the af- 
 
 'ranclii^ement of the cities 182 
 
 2d Of tlie interior government of 
 
 cities 190 
 
 Assemblies of the people 191 
 
 Mngistra'es 191 
 
 Hiih and low burghers 192 
 
 Diversity in the state of the com- 
 mons in various countries 192 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XI 
 
 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 SKETCH OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION— THE CRUSADES. 
 
 General view of the civilization of 
 Europe 193 
 
 Its distiuciive and fundamental char- 
 acter 195 
 
 When this character began to appear 19tj 
 
 State of Europe from the twelfth to 
 the sixteenth century 196 
 
 The Crusades : 
 
 Theit character 198 
 
 Tiieir moral and social causes 201 
 
 These causes cease at the end of 
 
 the thiiteenth century 202 
 
 Effects of the crusades upon civili- 
 zation 205 
 
 LECTURE IX, 
 
 MONARCHY. 
 
 Important part of monarchy in the 
 
 hi ^fory of Europe ^213 
 
 In the history of the world 214 
 
 True causes of its importance 214 
 
 Twofold point of view under whicli 
 
 monarchy should be considered 215 
 1st. Its peculiar and permanent 
 
 character 215 
 
 It is the personification of legiti- 
 mate sovereignty 21 G 
 
 Within what limits 220 
 
 2d. Its rlexibdity and diversity 222 
 
 The European monarchy seems 
 the result of the various species 
 
 of monarchy 222 
 
 Of the barbarian monarchy 223 
 
 Of the imperial monarchy 224 
 
 Of the leuUal monarchy 229 
 
 Of modern monarchy, properly bO 
 culled, and of its true character 229 
 
 LECTURE X. 
 
 ATTEMPTS AT ORGANIZATION. 
 
 Attempts to reconcile the variorts 
 social elements of modern Eu- 
 rope, so as to make them live 
 and act in common— to form 
 one society under one same 
 
 central power 234 
 
 1st. Attempt at theocratic organiza- 
 tion 233 
 
 Why it failed C'3S 
 
 Four jirincipal obstacles 233 
 
 Fdiulls of Gregory VII 241 
 
 Re-action against the dominion of 
 
 the church 242 
 
 On the pait of the people 243 
 
 On the parr of the sovereigns 243 
 
 2d. Attempts at republican organiza- 
 tion 244 
 
 Italian rppublics — their vices 246 
 
 Cities of the south of France 247 
 
 Crusade against the Mbigenses.. . 248 
 
 The Srtiss coni'ederacy 249 
 
 Free cities of Fiandeis and the 
 
 Rhine 249 
 
 Hanseatic League 250 
 
 Struggle between the feudal nobil- 
 
 iiyandthe cities 250 
 
 3d. Attempts at mixed organization 250 
 
 The States-general of France 251 
 
 Tin^ Cortes of fipain and Portugal 252 
 
 The Parliament of England 253 
 
 Bad success of all these attempts... 254 
 
 Causes of their failure 254 
 
 General tendency of Europe 255 
 
 LECTURE XL 
 
 CENTRALIZATION, DIPLO.^IACY, ETC. 
 
 Particular character of the fifteenth 
 
 century 2.56 
 
 Progressive centralizations of nations 
 
 and governments 258 
 
 1st. Of France 259 
 
 Formation of the national spirit of 
 
 France 2.59 
 
 Forma ion of the French territory 260 
 Louis XI., manner of governing. • 262 
 
 2d. Of Spain 263 
 
 3d. OfGermany 263 
 
 4th. OlFnsland 264 
 
 5th. Of Italy 265 
 
 Rise of the exterior relations of states 
 
 and of diplomacy 266 
 
 Agitation of religious opinions 269 
 
 Attempt at aristocratic reform in the 
 
 ciiurch 270 
 
 Councils of Constance and Bale 271 
 
 Attempt at popular reform 273 
 
 John Hups 278 
 
 Revival of ancient literature 274 
 
 Adii.iration for antiquity 274 
 
 Classic school . 275 
 
 General activity 276 
 
 Voyages, travels, inventions, &c 277 
 
 Conclusion 277 
 
xu 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Difficulty of unravcllina: general 
 fiicls in modern l)i<;tory 
 
 Picture of Europe in llie sixteenth 
 century 
 
 Danger of precipitate generaliza- 
 tions 
 
 Various causes assigned for tlie re 
 
 LECTURE XII. 
 
 THE REFORMATION. 
 
 against absolute power in intel- 
 
 278 leciual affkirs 2f^7 
 
 Proofs of this fact 289 
 
 279 Progress of the reformation in differ- 
 ent countries •••• 200 
 
 283 Weak side of the reformation 293 
 
 TheJesuits 294 
 
 formation " 2S5 Analogy betwecen the revolutions 
 
 Its predominant characteristic— the of civil and religious society 297 
 
 insurrection of the human mind 
 
 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION. 
 
 General character of the English re- 
 volution 300 
 
 lis principal causes 301 
 
 Rather political than religious 302 
 
 Three great pailies succeed one an- 
 other in its progress 307 
 
 Ist. The pure monarchy reform 
 
 party 303 
 
 2d. The constitutional reform party 309 
 
 3d. The republican party 310 
 
 They all fail 312 
 
 Cromwell 313 
 
 Restoration of the Stuaits 315 
 
 The legitimate administration 316 
 
 Profligate administrations 317 
 
 National administration 318 
 
 Revolution of 103S in England and 
 Europe 320 
 
 LCETURE XIV. 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Differences and resemblances in the 
 
 f)rogress of civilization in Eng- 
 and and on the continpnt 322 
 
 Preponilerance of France in Europe 
 m the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 
 centuries 326 
 
 In the seventeenth by the French 
 
 government 328 
 
 In the eighteenth by the country itself 329 
 Of the government of Louis XIV — 329 
 
 Of his wars 331 
 
 Of his diplomacy 332 
 
 Of hid administration 336 
 
 Of his legislation 337 
 
 Causes of its prompt decline 338 
 
 France in the eighteenth century-. 340 
 Essential cbaracferistics of the philo- 
 sophical revolution •' 340 
 
 Conclusion of the lectures 345 
 
GENERAL 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 IN MODERN EUROPE, 
 
 FROM THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 CIVILIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 Being called upon to give a course of lectures, and hav- 
 ing considered what subject would be most agreeable and 
 convenient to fill up the short space allowed us from now 
 to the close of the year, it has occurred to me that a gene- 
 ral sketch of the History of Modern Europe, considered 
 more especially with regard to the progress of civilization 
 — that a general survey of the history of European civili- 
 zation, of its origin, its progress, its end, its character, 
 would be the most profitable subject upon which I could 
 engage your attention. 
 
 I say European civilization, because there is evidently 
 so striking a uniformity (uniU) in the civilization of the 
 different states of Europe, as fully to warrant this appella- 
 tion. Civilization has flowed to them all from sources so 
 much alike — it is so connected in them all, notwithstand- 
 ing the great differences of time, of place, and circum- 
 stances, by the same principles, and it so tends in them all 
 to bring about the same results, that no one will doubt 
 the fact of there being a civilization essentially European. 
 2 
 
14} GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 At the same time it must be observed that this civiliza- 
 tion cannot be found in — its history cannot be collected 
 from, the history of any single state of Europe. However 
 similar in its general appearance throughout the whole, 
 its variety is not less remarkable, nor has it ever yet de- 
 veloped itself completely in any particular country. Its 
 characteristic features are widely spread, and we shall be 
 obliged to seek, as occasion may require, in England, in 
 France, in Germany, in Spain, for the elements of its his- 
 tory. 
 
 The situation in which we are placed, as Frenchmen, 
 afibrds us a great advantage for entering upon the study 
 of European civilization ; for, without intending to flatter 
 the country to Avhich I am bound by so many ties, I can- 
 not but regard France as the centre, as the focus, of the 
 civilization of Europe. It would be going too far to say 
 that she has always been, upon every occasion, in advance 
 of other nations. Italj^, at various epochs, has outstrip- 
 ped her in the arts ; England, as regards political institu- 
 tions, is by far before her ; and, perhaps, at certain mo- 
 menta, we may find other nations of Europe superior to 
 her in various particulars : but it must still be allowed, 
 that whenever France has set forw^ard in the career of 
 civilization, she has sprung forth with new vigour, and 
 has soon come up wdth, or passed by, all her rivals. 
 
 Not only is this the case, but those ideas, those institu- 
 tions w^hich promote civilization, but whose birth must be 
 referred to other countries, have, before they could be- 
 come general, or produce fruit, — before they could be 
 transplanted to other lands, or benefit the common stock 
 of European civilization, been obliged to undergo in 
 France a new preparation : it is from France, as from a 
 second country more rich and fertile, that they have 
 started forth to make the conquest of Europe. There is 
 not a single great idea, not a single great principle of 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 15 
 
 civilization, which, in order to become universally spread, 
 has not first passed through France. 
 
 There is, indeed, in the genius of the French, something 
 of a sociableness, of a sympathy, — something w^hich 
 spreads itself with more facility and energy, than in the 
 genius of any other people : it may be in the language, 
 or the particular turn of mind of the French nation; it 
 may be in their manners, or that their ideas, being more 
 popular, present themselves more clearly to the masses, 
 penetrate among them with greater ease ; but, in a word, 
 clearness, sociability, sympathy, are the particular cha- 
 racteristics of France, of its civilization ; and these quali- 
 ties render it eminently qualified to march at the head of 
 European civilization. 
 
 In studying then the history of this great fact, it is 
 neither an arbitrary choice, nor convention, that leads us 
 to make France the central point from which we shall 
 study it ; but it is because we feel that in so doing, we in 
 a manner place ourselves in the very heart of civilization 
 itself — in the heart of the very fact which we desire to 
 investigate. 
 
 I say /ad, and I say it advisedly : civilization is just as 
 much a fact as any other — it is a fact which like any other 
 may be studied, described, and have its history recounted. 
 
 It has been the custom for some time past, and very 
 properly, to talk of the necessity of confining history to 
 facts ; nothing can be more just ; but it would be almost 
 absurd to suppose that there are no facis but such as are 
 material and visible : there are moral, hidden facts, which 
 are no less real than battles, wars, and the public acts of 
 government. Besides these individual facts, each of 
 which has its proper name, there are others of a general 
 nature, without a name, of which it is impossible to say 
 that they happened in such a year, or on such a day, and 
 which it is impossible to confine within any precise limits, 
 
16 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 but which are yet just as much facts as the battles and 
 public acts of which we have spoken. 
 
 That very portion, indeed, which we are accustomed to 
 hear called the philosophy of history — which consists in 
 show^ntr the relation of events with each other — the chain 
 which connects them — the causes and effects of events — 
 this is history just as much as the description of battles, 
 and all the other exterior events which it recounts. Facts 
 of this kind are undoubtedly more difficult to unravel j the 
 historian is more liable to deceive himself respecting 
 them ; it requires more skill to place them distinctly be- 
 fore the reader; but this difficulty does not alter their 
 nature ; they still continue not a whit the less, for all this, 
 to form an essential part of history. 
 
 Civilization is just one of these kind of facts : it is so 
 general in its nature that it can scarcely be seized ; so 
 complicated that it can scarcely be unravelled ; so hidden 
 as scarcely to be discernible. The difficulty of describing 
 itjof recounting its history, is apparent and acknowledged j 
 but its existence, its worthiness to be described and to be 
 recounted, is not less certain and manifest. Then, respect- 
 ing civilization, what a number of problems remain to be 
 solved ! It may be asked, it is even now disputed, whether 
 civilization be a good or an evil 1 One party decries it as 
 teeming with mischief to man, while another lauds it as 
 the means by which he will attain his highest dignity and 
 excellence. Again, it is asked whether this fact is uni- 
 versal — w^hether there is a general civilization of the whole 
 human race — a course for humanity to run — a destiny for 
 it to accomplish ; whether nations have not transmitted 
 from age to age something to their successors which is 
 never lost, but which grows and continues as a common 
 stock, and will thus be carried on to the end of all things. 
 For my part, I feel assured that human nature has such a 
 destiny ; that a general civilization pervades the human 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 17 
 
 race ; that at every epoch it augments ; and that there, 
 consequently, is a universal history of civilization to be 
 written. Nor have I any hesitation in asserting that this 
 history is the most noble, the most interesting of any, and 
 that it comprehends every other. 
 
 Is it not indeed clear that civilization is the great fact in 
 which all others merge ; in which they all end, in which they 
 are all condensed, in which all others find their importance^ 
 Take all the facts of which the history of a nation is com- 
 posed, all the facts which we are accustomed to consider as 
 the elements of its existence — take its institutions, its com- 
 merce, its industry, its wars, the various details of its gov- 
 ernment ; and if you would form some idea of them as a 
 whole, if you would see their various bearings on each 
 other, if you would appreciate their value, if you would pass 
 a judgment upon them, what is it you desire to know 1 
 Why, what they have done to forward the progress of civ- 
 ilization — what part they have acted in this great drama, 
 — what influence they have exercised in aiding its advance. 
 It is not only by this that we form a general opinion of these 
 facts, but it is by this standard that we try them, that we 
 estimate their true value. These are, as it were, the rivers 
 of whom we ask how much water they have carried to the 
 ocean. Civilization is, as it were, the grand emporium of 
 a people, in which all its wealth — all the elements of its 
 life — all the powers of its existence are stored up. It is 
 so true that we judge of minor facts accordingly as they 
 affect this greater one, that even some which are naturally 
 detested and hated, which prove a heavy calamity to the 
 nation upon which they fall — say, for instance, despotism, 
 anarchy, and so forth, — even these are partly forgiven, 
 their evil nature is partly overlooked, if they have aided in 
 any considerable degree the march of civilization. Wher- 
 ever the progress of this principle is visible, together with 
 the facts which have urged it forward, we are tempted to 
 2* 
 
18 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 forget the price it has cost — we overlook the clearness of 
 the purchase. 
 
 Again — there are certain facts which, properly speaking, 
 cannot be called social — individual facts which rather con- 
 cern the human intellect than public life : such are religious 
 doctrines, philosophical opinions, literature, the sciences 
 and arts. All these seem to offer themselves to individual 
 man for his improvement, instruction, or amusement ; and 
 •to be directed rather to his intellectual melioration and 
 pleasure, than to his social condition. Yet still, how often 
 do these facts ccme before us — how often are we compelled 
 to consider them as influencing civilization ! In all times, 
 in all countries, it has been the boast of religion, that it has 
 civilized the people among Avhom it has dwelt. Literature, 
 the arts and sciences, have put in their claim for a share 
 of this glory ; and mankind has been ready to laud and 
 honour them whenever it has felt that this praise was fairly 
 their due. In the same manner, facts the most important 
 — facts of themselves, and independently of their exterior 
 consequences, the most sublime in their nature, have in- 
 creased in importance, have reached a higher degree of 
 sublimity, by their connexion with civilization. Such is 
 the worth of this great principle, that it gives a value to all 
 it touches. Not only so, but there are even cases, in 
 which the facts of which w^e have spoken, in which 
 philosophy, literature, the sciences, and the arts, are es- 
 pecially judged, and condemned or applauded according 
 to their influence upon civilization. 
 
 Before, however, we proceed to the history of this fact, 
 so important, so extensive, so precious, and which seems, 
 as it were, to embody the entire life of nations, let us con- 
 sider it for a moment in itself, and endeavour to discover 
 what it really is. 
 
 I shall be careful here not to fall into pure philosophy ; 
 I shall not lay down a certain rational principle, and then, 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 19 
 
 by deduction, show the nature of civilization as a conse- 
 quence : there would be too many chances of error in 
 pursuing this method. Still, without this, we shall be able 
 to find a fact to establish and to describe. 
 
 For a long time past, and in many countries, the word 
 civilization has been in use ; ideas more or less clear, and 
 of wider or more contracted signification, have been at- 
 tached to it ', still it has been constantly employed and 
 generally understood. Now, it is the popular, common 
 signification of this word that we must investigate. In the 
 usual, general acceptation of terms, there will nearly al- 
 ways be found more truth than in the seemingly more pre- 
 cise and rigorous definitions of science. It is common 
 sense which gives to words their popular signification, and 
 common sense is the genius of humanity. The popular 
 signification of a word is formed by degrees, and while the 
 facts it represents are themselves present. As often as a 
 fact comes before us which seems to answer to the signifi- 
 cation of a known term, this term is naturally applied to it, 
 its signification gradually extending and enlarging itself, 
 so that at last the various facts and ideas which, from the 
 nature of things, ought to be brought together aud embo- 
 died in this term, will be found collected and embodied in it. 
 When, on the contrary, the signification of a word is de- 
 termined by science, it is usually done by one or a very 
 few individuals, who, at the time, are under the influence 
 of some particular fact which has taken possession of their 
 imagination. Thus it comes to pass that scientific defini- 
 tions are, in general, much narrower, and on that very 
 account, much less correct, than the popular significations 
 given to words. So, in the investigation of the meaning 
 of the word civilization as a fact — by seeking out all the 
 ideas it comprises, according to the common sense of man- 
 kind, we shall arrive much nearer to the knowledge of the 
 fact itself, than by attempting to give our own scientific 
 
20 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 definition of it, though this might at first appear more 
 clear and precise. 
 
 I shall commence this investigation by placing before 
 you a series of hypotheses. I shall describe society in 
 various conditions, and shall then ask if the state in which 
 I so describe it is, in the general opinion of mankind, the 
 state of a people advancing in civilization — if it answers 
 to the signification which mankind generally attaches to 
 this word. 
 
 First, imagine a people whose outward circumstances 
 are easy and agreeable ; few taxes, few hardships ; justice 
 is fairly administered ; in a word, physical existence, taken 
 altogether, is satisfactorily and happily regulated. But 
 with all this the moral and intellectual energies of this peo- 
 ple are studiously kept in a state of torpor and inertness. 
 It can hardly be called oppression ; its tendency is not of 
 that character — it is rather compression. VVe are not 
 without examples of this state of society. There have 
 been a great number of little aristocratic republics, in 
 which the people have been thus treated like so many flocks 
 of sheep, carefully tended, physically happy, but without 
 the least intellectual and moral activity. Is this civiliza- 
 tion 1 Do we recognise here a people in a state of moral 
 and social advancement 1 
 
 Let us take another hypothesis. Let us imagine a peo- 
 ple whose outward circumstances are less favourable and 
 agreeable ; still, however, supportable. As a set-off, its 
 intellectual and moral cravings have not here been entirely 
 neglected. A certain range has been allow^ed them — some 
 few pure and elevated sentiments have been here distrib- 
 uted ; religious and moral notions have reached a cer- 
 tain degree of improvement ; but the greatest care has 
 been taken to stifle every principle of liberty. The moral 
 and intellectual wants of this people are provided for in 
 the way that, among some nations, the physical wants have 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 21 
 
 been provided for*; a certain portion of truth is doled out 
 to each, but no one is permitted to help himself — to seek 
 for truth on his own account. Immobility is the charac- 
 ter of its moral life ; and to this condition are fallen most 
 of the populations of Asia, in which theocratic govern- 
 ment restrains the advance of man : such, for example, is 
 the state of the Hindoos. I again put the same question 
 as before — Is this a people among whom civilization is 
 going on 1 
 
 I will change entirely the nature of the hypothesis: 
 suppose a people among whom there reigns a very large 
 stretch of personal liberty, but among whom also disor- 
 der and inequality almost every w^here abound. The 
 weak are oppressed, afflicted, destroyed ; violence is the 
 ruling character of the social condition. Every one 
 knows that such has been the state of Europe. Is this a 
 civilized state 1 It may without doubt contain germs of 
 civilization which may progressively shoot up ; but the 
 actual state of things which prevails in this society is not, 
 we may rest assured, what the common sense of mankind 
 would call civilization. 
 
 I pass on to a fourth and last hypothesis. Every indi- 
 vidual here enjoys the widest extent of liberty ; inequality 
 is rare, or, at least, of a very slight character. Every one 
 does as he likes, and scarcely differs in power from his 
 neighbour. But then here scarcely such a thing is known 
 as a general interest; here exist but few public ideas j 
 hardly any public feeling ; but little society : in short, the 
 life and faculties of individuals are put forth and spent in 
 an isolated state, with but little regard to society, and with 
 scarcely a sentiment of its influence. Men here exercise 
 no influence upon one another; they leave no traces of 
 their existence. Generation after generation pass away, 
 leaving society just as they found it. Such is the con- 
 dition of the various tribes of savages ; liberty and equal- 
 ity dwell among them, but no touch of civilization. 
 
22 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 I could easily multiply these hypotheses ; but I presume 
 that I have gone far enough to show what is the popular 
 and natural signification of the word civilization. 
 
 It is evident that none of the states which I have just 
 described will correspond with the common notion of man- 
 kind respecting this term. It seems to me that the first 
 idea comprised in the word civilization (and this may be 
 gathered from the various examples which I have placed 
 before you) is the notion of progress, of development. 
 It calls up within us the notion of a people advancing, 
 of a people in a course of improvement and meliora- 
 tion. 
 
 Now what is this progress 1 What is this development 1 
 In this is the great difficulty. The etymology of the word 
 seems sufficiently obvious — it points at once to the im- 
 provement of civil life. The first notion which strikes us 
 in pronouncing it is the progress of society ; the meliora- 
 tion of the social state j the carrying to higher perfection 
 the relations between man and man. It awakens within us 
 at once the notion of an increase of national prosperity, of 
 a greater activity and better organization of the social re- 
 lations. On one hand there is a manifest increase in the 
 power and well-being of society at large ; and on the other 
 a more equitable distribution of this power and this well- 
 being among the individuals of which society is compo- 
 sed. 
 
 But the word civilization has a more extensive signifi- 
 cation than this, which seems to confine it to the mere 
 outward, physical organization of society. Now, if this 
 were all, the human race would be little better than the 
 inhabitants of an ant-hill or bec'hive j a society in which 
 nothing was sought for beyond order and well-being^ — in 
 which the highest, the sole aim, would be the produc- 
 tion of the means of life, and their equitable distribu- 
 tion, 
 
 But our nature at once rejects this definition as too nar« 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 23 
 
 row. It tells us that man is formed for a higher destiny 
 than this. That this is not the full development of his 
 character — that civilization comprehends something more 
 extensive, something more complex, something superior 
 to the perfection of social relations, of social power and 
 well-being. 
 
 That this is so, we have not merely the evidence of our 
 nature, and that derived from the signification which the 
 common sense of mankind has attached to the word j but 
 we have likewise the evidence of facts. 
 
 No one, for example, will deny that there are commu- 
 nities in which the social state of man is better — in which 
 the means of life are better supplied, are more rapidly 
 produced, are better distributed, than in others, which yet 
 will be pronounced by the unanimous voice of mankind to 
 be superior in point of civilization. 
 
 Take Kome, for example, in the splendid days of the 
 republic, at the close of the second Punic war ; the mo- 
 ment of her greatest virtues, when she was rapidly ad- 
 vancing to the empire of the world — when her social con- 
 dition was evidently improving. Take Rome again under 
 Augustus, at the commencement of her decline, when, to 
 say the least, the progressive movement of society halted, 
 when bad principles seemed ready to prevail : but is there 
 any person who would not say that Rome was more civ- 
 ilized under Augustus than in the days of Fabricius or 
 Cincinnatus 1 
 
 Let us look further : let us look at France in the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries. In a merely social point 
 of view, as respects the quantity and the distribution of 
 well-being among individuals, France, in the sev^enteenth 
 and eighteenth centuries, was decidedly inferior to several 
 of the other states of Europe ; to Holland and England in 
 particular. Social activity, in these countries, was greater, 
 increased more rapidly, and distributed its fruits more 
 
24 GENERAL HISTORY Of THE 
 
 equitably among individuals. Yet consult the general 
 opinion of mankind, and it will tell you that France in the 
 seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was the most civil- 
 ized country of Europe. Europe has not hesitated to ac- 
 knowledge this fact, and evidence of its truth will be 
 found in all the great works of European literature. 
 
 It appears evident, then, that all that we understand by 
 this term is not comprised in the simple idea of social 
 well-being and happiness ; and, if we look a little deeper, 
 we discover that, besides the progress and melioration 
 of social life, another development is comprised in our 
 notion of civilization : namely, the development of indi- 
 vidual life, the development of the human mind and its 
 faculties — the development of man himself. 
 
 It is this development Avhich so strikingly manifested it- 
 self in France and Rome at these epochs ; it is this ex- 
 pansion of human intelligence which gave to them so great 
 a degree of superiority in civilization. In these coun- 
 tries the godlike principle which distinguishes man from 
 the brute exhibited itself with peculiar grandeur and pow- 
 er: and compensated in the eyes of the world for the de- 
 fects of their social system. These communities had still 
 many social conquests to make ; but they had already 
 glorified themselves by the intellectual and moral victo- 
 ries they had achieved. Many of the conveniences of 
 life were here wanting ; from a considerable portion of 
 the community were still withheld their natural rights and 
 political privileges : but see the number of illustrious in- 
 dividuals who lived and earned the applause and approba- 
 tion of their fellow-men. Here, too, literature, science, 
 and art, attained extraordinary perfection, and shone in 
 more splendour than perhaps they had ever done before. 
 Now, wherever this takes place, wherever man sees these 
 glorious idols of his worship displayed in their full lus- 
 tre, — wherever he sees this fund of rational and refined 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 25 
 
 enjoyment for the godlike part of his nature called into 
 existence, there he recognises and adores civilization. 
 
 Two elements, then, seem to be comprised in the great 
 fact which we call civilization; — two circumstances are 
 necessary to its existence — it lives upon two conditions — 
 it reveals itself by two symptoms : the progress of socie- 
 ty, the progress of individuals ; the melioration of the 
 social system, and the expansion of the mind and faculties 
 of man. Wherever the exterior condition of man be- 
 comes enlarged, quickened, and improved ; wherever the 
 intellectual nature of man distinguishes itself by its en- 
 ergy, brilliancy, and its grandeur ; wherever these two 
 signs concur, and they often do so, notwithstanding the 
 gravest imperfections in the social system, there man pro- 
 claims and applauds civilization. 
 
 Such, if I mistake not, would be the notion mankind in 
 general would form of civilization, from a simple and ra- 
 tional inquiry into the meaning of the term. This view 
 of it is confirmed by History. If we ask of her what has 
 been the character of every great crisis favorable to civ- 
 ilization, if we examine those great events which all ac- 
 knowledge to have carried it forward, we shall always 
 find one or other of the two elements which I have just 
 described. They have all been epochs of individual or 
 social improvement ; events which have either wrought a 
 change in individual man, in his opinions, his manners ; or 
 in his exterior condition, his situation as regards his re- 
 lations with his fellow-men. Christianity, for example : 
 I allude not merely to the first moment of its appearance, 
 but to the first centuries of its existence — Christianity 
 was in no w^ay addressed to the social condition of man ; 
 it distinctly disclaimed all interference with it. It com- 
 manded the slave to obey his master It attacked none of 
 the great evils, none of the gross acts of injustice, by 
 which the social system of that day \vas disfigured : yet 
 3 
 
26 GElvERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 who but will acknowledge that Christianity has been one 
 of the greatest promoters of civilization 1 And where- 
 fore 1 Because it has changed the interior condition of 
 man, his opinions, his sentiments : because it has regen- 
 erated his moral, his intellectual character. 
 
 We have seen a crisis of an opposite nature ; a crisis 
 affecting not the intellectual, but the outward condition of 
 man, which has changed and regenerated society. This 
 also we may rest assured is a decisive crisis of civiliza- 
 tion. If we search history through, we shall every where 
 find the same result ; we shall meet with no important 
 event, which had a direct influence in the advancement 
 of civilization, which has not exercised it in one of the 
 two ways I have just mentioned. 
 
 Having thus, as I hope, given you a clear notion of the 
 two elements of which civilization is composed, let us 
 now see whether one of them alone would be sufficient to 
 constitute it : whether either the development of the so- 
 cial condition, or the development of the individual man 
 taken separately, deserves to be regarded as civilization 1 
 or whether these two events are so intimately connected, 
 that, if they are not produced simultaneously, they are 
 nevertheless so intimately connected, that, sooner or later, 
 one uniformly produces the other 1 
 
 There are three ways, as it seems to me, in which we 
 may attack this question. First : we may investigate the 
 nature itself of the two elements of civilization, and see 
 whether by that they are strictly and necessarily bound 
 together. Secondly : we may examine historically whether, 
 in fact, they have manifested themselves separately, or 
 whether one has always produced the other. Thirdly : 
 we may consult common sense, i. e, the general opinion 
 of mankind. Let us first address ourselves to the gen- 
 eral opinion of mankind — to common sense. 
 
 When any great change takes place in the state of a 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUEOPE. 27 
 
 countrj' — when any great development of social prospe- 
 rity is accomplished within it — any revolution or reform 
 in the powers and privileges of society, this new event 
 naturally has its adversaries. It is necessarily contested 
 and opposed. Now what are the objections which the 
 adversaries of such revolutions brinor against them 1 
 
 They assert that this progress of the social condition is 
 attended with no advantage : that it does not improve in 
 a corresponding degree the moral state — the intellectual 
 powers of man ; that it is a false, deceitful progress, which 
 proves detrimental to his moral character, to the true in- 
 terests of his better nature. On the other hand, this attack 
 is repulsed with much force by the friends of the move- 
 ment. They maintain that the progress of society neces- 
 sarily leads to the progress of intelligence and morality ; 
 that, in proportion as the social life is better regulated, 
 individual life becomes more refined and virtuous. Thus 
 the question rests in abeyance between the opposers and 
 partisans of the change. 
 
 But reverse this hypothesis ; suppose the moral devel- 
 opment in progress. What do the men who labour for it 
 generally hope for I — What, at the origin of societies, 
 have the founders of religion, the sages, poets, and phi- 
 losophers, who have laboured to regulate and refine the 
 manners of mankind, promised themselves \ What, but the 
 melioration of the social condition ; the more equitable 
 distribution of the blessings of life 1 What, now, let me 
 ask, should be inferred from this dispute and from these 
 hopes and promises 1 It may, I think, be fairly inferred 
 that it is the spontaneous, intuitive conviction of man- 
 kind, that the two elements of civilization — the social 
 and moral development — are intimately connected ; that, 
 at the approach of one, man looks for the other. It is to 
 this natural conviction we appeal when, to second or com- 
 bat either one or the other of the two elements, we deny 
 
28 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 or attest its union with the other. We know that if men 
 were persuaded that the melioration of the social condi- 
 tion would operate against the expansion of the intellect, 
 they would almost oppose and cry out against the ad- 
 vancement of society. On the other hand, when we speak 
 to mankind of improving society by improving its indi- 
 vidual members, we find them willing to believe us, and 
 to adopt the principle. Hence we may affirm that it is 
 the intuitive belief of man, that these two elements of 
 civilization are intimately connected, and that they recip- 
 rocally produce one another. 
 
 If we now examine the history of the world we shall 
 have the same result. We shall find that every expansion 
 of human intelligence has proved of advantage to society j 
 and that all the great advances in the social condition 
 have turned to the profit of humanity. One or other of 
 these facts may predominate, may shine forth with greater 
 splendour for a season, and impress upon the movement 
 its own particular character. At times, it may not be till 
 after the lapse of a long interval, after a thousand trans- 
 formations, a thousand obstacles, that the second shows 
 itself, and conies, as it were, to complete the civilization 
 which the first had begun ; but when we look closely we 
 easily recognise the link by which they are connected. 
 The movements of Providence are not restricted to narrow 
 bounds : it is not anxious to deduce to-day the consequence 
 of the premises it laid down yesterday. It may defer this 
 for ages, till the fulness of time shall come. Its logic will 
 not be less conclusive for reasoning slowly. Providence 
 moves through time, as the gods of Homer through space 
 — it makes a step, and ages have rolled away ! How long 
 a time, how many circumstances intervened, before the 
 regeneration of the moral powers of man, by Christianity, 
 exercised its great, its legitimate influence upon his social 
 condition ^. Yet who can doubt or mistake its power 1 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 29 
 
 If we pass from history to the nature itself of the two 
 facts which constitute civilization, we are infallibly led to 
 the same result. We have all experienced this. If a man 
 makes a mental advance, some mental discovery, if he 
 acquires some new idea, or some new faculty, what is the 
 desire that takes possession of him at the very moment he 
 makes it 1 It is the desire to promulgate his sentiment to 
 the exterior world — to publish and realize his thought. 
 When a man acquires a new truth — when his being in his 
 own eyes has made an advance, has acquired a new gift, 
 immediately there becomes joined to this acquirement the 
 notion of a mission. He feels obliged, impelled, as it 
 were, by a secret interest, to extend, to carry out of him- 
 self the change, the melioration which has been accom- 
 plished within him. To what, but this, do we owe the 
 exertions of great reformers! The exertions of those 
 great benefactors of the human race, who have changed 
 the face of the world, after having first been changed 
 themselves, have been stimulated and governed by no 
 other impulse than this. 
 
 So much for the change which takes place in the intel- 
 lectual man. Let us now consider him in a social state. 
 A revolution is made in the condition of society. Rights 
 and property are more equitably distributed among indi- 
 viduals : this is as much as to say, the appearance of the 
 world is purer — is more beautiful. The state of things, 
 both as respects governments, and as respects men in their 
 relations with each other, is improved. And can there be 
 a question whether the sight of this goodly spectacle, 
 whether the melioration of this external condition of 
 man, will have a corresponding influence upon his moral, 
 his individual character — upon humanity 1 Such a doubt 
 would belie all that is said of the authority of example, 
 and of the power of habit, which is founded upon nothing 
 but the conviction that exterior facts and circumstances, 
 3* 
 
30 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 if good, reasonable, well-regulated, are followed, sooner 
 or later, more or less completely, by intellectual results 
 of the same nature, of the same beauty : that a world 
 better governed, better regulated, a world in which justice 
 more fully prevails, renders man himself more just. That 
 the intellectual man then is instructed and improved by 
 the superior condition of society, and his social condition, 
 his external well-being, meliorated and refined by in- 
 crease of intelligence in individuals : that the two ele- 
 ments of civilization are strictly connected: that ages, 
 that obstacles of all kinds, may interpose between them 
 — that it is possible they may undergo a thousand trans- 
 formations before they meet together ; but that sooner 
 or later this union will take place is certain ; for it is a 
 law of their nature that they should do so — the great 
 facts of history bear witness that such is really the case — 
 the instinctive belief of man proclaims the same truth. 
 
 Thus, though I have not by a great deal advanced all 
 that might be said upon this subject, I trust I have given 
 a tolerably correct and adequate notion, in the foregoing 
 cursory account, of what civilization is, of what are its 
 offices, and what its importance. I might here quit the 
 subject ; but I cannot part with it, without placing before 
 you another question, which here naturally presents itself 
 — a question not purely historical, but rather, I will not say 
 hypothetical, but conjectural. A question which we can 
 see here but in part ; but which, however, is not less real, 
 but presses itself upon our notice at every turn of thought. 
 
 Of the two developments, of which we have just now 
 spoken, and which together constitute civilization, — of the 
 development of society on one part, and of the expansion 
 of human intelligence on the other — which is the endl 
 which are the means ] Is it for the improvement of the 
 social condition, for the melioration of his existence upon 
 the earth, that man fully developes himself, his mind, his 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 31 
 
 faculties, his sentiments, his ideas, his whole being 1 Or 
 is the melioration of the social condition, the progress of 
 society, — is indeed society itself merely the theatre, the 
 occasion, the motive and excitement for the development 
 of the individual 1 In a word, is society formed for the indi- 
 vidual, or the individual for society 1 Upon the reply to this 
 question depends our knowledge of whether the destiny of 
 man is purely social, whether society exhausts and absorbs 
 the entire man, or whether he bears within him some- 
 thing foreign, something superior to his existence in this 
 world 1 
 
 One of the greatest philosophers and most distinguish- 
 ed men of the present age, whose words become indelibly 
 engraved upon whatever spot they fall, has resolved this 
 question ; he has resolved it, at least, according to his 
 own conviction. The following are his words : " Human 
 societies are born, live, and die, upon the earth ', there 
 they accomplish their destinies. But they contain not the 
 whole man. After his engagement to society there still 
 remains in him the more noble part of his nature ; those 
 high faculties by which he elevates himself to God, to a 
 future life, and to the unknown blessings of an invisible 
 world. We, individuals, each with a separate and dis- 
 tinct existence, with an identical person, we, truly beings 
 endowed w4th immortality, we have a higher destiny than 
 that of states."* 
 
 I shall add nothing on this subject ; it is not my province 
 to handle it : it is enough for me to have placed it before 
 you. It haunts us again at the close of the history of 
 civilization. — Where the history of civilization ends, when 
 there is no more to be said of the present life, man invinci- 
 bly demands if all is over — if that be the end of all things 1 
 This, then, is the last problem, and the grandest, to which 
 
 ♦ Opinion De RoYER CoLLARD, sur le projet de loi r^latifau sacrilege, 
 pp. 7 et 17. 
 
3^ GENERAL HISTORY OF THfi 
 
 the history of civilization can lead us. It is sufficient that 
 I have marked its place, and its sublime character. 
 
 From the foregoing remarks, it becomes evident that the 
 history of civilization may be considered from two differ- 
 ent points of view — may be drawn from two different 
 sources. The historian may take up his abode during 
 the time prescribed, say a series of centuries, in the hu- 
 man soul, or with some particular nation. He may study, 
 describe, relate, all the circumstances, all the transforma- 
 tions, all the revolutions, which may have taken place in 
 the intellectual man ; and when he had done this he would 
 have a history of the civilization among the people, or 
 during the period which he had chosen. He might pro- 
 ceed differently : instead of entering into the interior of 
 man, he might take his stand in the external world. He 
 might take his station in the midst of the great theatre of 
 life : instead of describing the change of ideas, of the 
 sentiments of the individual being, he might describe his 
 exterior circumstances, the events, the revolutions of his 
 social condition. These two portions, these two histories 
 of civilization, are strictly connected with each other ; 
 they are the counterpart, the reflecteJ image of one ano- 
 ther. They may, however, be separated. Perhaps it is 
 necessary, at least in the beginning, in order to be exposed 
 in detail and with clearness, that they should be. For my 
 part I have no intention, upon the present occasion, to 
 enter upon the history of civilization in the human mind ; 
 the history of the exterior events of the visible and social 
 world is that to which I shall call your attention. It 
 would give me pleasure to be able to display before you 
 the phenomenon of civilization in the way I understand 
 it, in all its bearings, in its widest extent — to place before 
 you all the vast questions to which it gives rise. But, for 
 the present, I must restrain my wishes j I must confine 
 myself to a narrower field : it is only the history of the 
 social state that I shall attempt to narrate. 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 33 
 
 My first object will be to seek out the elements of Eu- 
 ropean civilization at the time of its birth, at the fall of the 
 Roman empire — to examine carefully society such as it was 
 in the midst of these famous ruins. I shall endeavour to 
 pick out these elements, and to place them before you, side 
 by side ; I shall endeavour to put them in motion, and to 
 follow them in their progress through the fifteen centu- 
 ries which have rolled away since that epoch. 
 
 We shall not, I think, proceed far in this study, without 
 being convinced that civilization is still in its infancy. How 
 distant is the human mind from the perfection to which it 
 may attain — from the perfection for which it was created! 
 How incapable are we of grasping the whole future destiny 
 of man ! Let any one even descend into his own mind — 
 let him picture there the highest point of perfection to 
 which man, to which society may attain, that he can con- 
 ceive, that he can hope ; — let him then contrast this picture 
 with the present state of the world, and he will feel assured 
 that society and civilization are still in their childhood : 
 that however great the distance they have advanced, that 
 whicli they have before them is incomparably, is infinitely 
 greater. This, however, should not lessen the pleasure 
 with which we contemplate our present condition. When 
 you have run over w4th me the great epochs of civilization 
 during the last fifteen centuries, you will see, up to our 
 time, how painful, how stormy, has been the condition of 
 man ; how hard has been his lot, not only outwardly as re- 
 gards society,but internally, as regards the intellectualman. 
 For fifteen'centuries the human mind has suffered as much 
 as the human race. You will see that it is only lately that 
 the human mind, perhaps for the first time, has arrived, im- 
 perfect though its condition still be, to a state where some 
 peace, some harmony, some freedom is found. The same 
 holds with regard to society— its immense progress is evi- 
 dent — the condition of man, compared with what it has 
 
34 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE 
 
 been, is easy and just. In thinking of our ancestors we 
 may almost apply to ourselves the verses of Lucretius : — 
 
 " Suave mari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis, 
 E terra magnum alterius spectare laborcm." 
 
 Without any great degree of pride we may, as Sthenelas 
 is made to do in Homer, H/xsi.; to/ irarspuv ixsy' ccfxs.vovsj 
 £up(;oja£5' sjvav, "Return thanks to God that we are infinite- 
 ly better than our fathers." 
 
 We must however take care not to deliver ourselves up 
 too fully to a notion of our happiness and our improved 
 condition. It may lead us into two serious evils, pride 
 and inactivity ; — it may give us an overweening confidence 
 in the power and success of the human mind, of its present 
 attainments ; and, at the same time, dispose us to apathy, 
 enervated by the agreeableness of our condition. I know 
 not if this strikes you as it does me, but in my judgment 
 we continually oscillate between an inclination to complain 
 without sufficient cause, and to be too easily satisfied. We 
 have an extreme susceptibility of mind, an inordinate crav- 
 ing, an ambition in our thoughts, in our desires, and in the 
 movements of our imagination ; yet when we come to 
 practical life — when trouble, when sacrifices, when efforts 
 are required for the attainment of our object, we sink into 
 lassitude and inactivity. We are discouraged almost as 
 easily as we had been excited. Let us not, however, suffer 
 ourselves to be invaded by either of these vices. Let us 
 estimate fairly what our abilities, our knowledge, our power 
 enable us to do lawfully ; and let us aim at nothing that 
 we cannot lawfully, justly, prudently — with a proper re- 
 spect to the great principles upon which our social system, 
 our civilization is based — attain. The age of barbarian 
 Europe, with its brute force, its violence, its lies and de- 
 ceit, — the habitual practice under which Europe groaned 
 during four or five centuries are passed away for ever, and 
 
 \ 
 
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 35 
 
 has given place to abetter order of things. We trust that 
 the time now approaches when man's condition shall be 
 progressively improved by the force of reason and truth, 
 when the brute part of nature shall be crushed, that the 
 godlike spirit may unfold. In the mean time let us be 
 cautious that no vague desires, that no extravagant theo- 
 ries, the time for which may not yet be come, carry us be- 
 yond the bounds of prudence, or beget in us a discontent 
 with our present state. To us much has been given, of 
 us much will be required. Posterity will demand a strict 
 account of our conduct — the public, the government, all 
 is now open to discussion, to examination. Let us then 
 attach ourselves firmly to the principles of our civilization, 
 to justice, to the laws, to liberty ; and never forget, that, 
 if we have the right to demand that all things shall be laid 
 open before us, and judged by us, we likewise are before 
 the world, who will examine us, and judge us according 
 to our works. 
 
LECTURE II.* 
 
 OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION IN PARTICULAR I ITS DISTINGUISHING 
 CHARACTERISTICS ITS SUPERIORITY— ITS ELEMENTS. 
 
 In the preceding Lecture I endeavoured to give an ex- 
 planation of civilization in general. Without referring to 
 any civilization in particular, or to circumstances of time 
 and place, I essayed to place it before you in a point of 
 view purely philosophical. I purpose now to enter upon 
 the History of the Civilization of Europe ; but before do- 
 ing so, before going into its proper history, I must make 
 you acquainted with the peculiar character of this civiliza- 
 tion — with its distinguishing features, so that you may be 
 able to recognise and distinguish European civilization 
 from every other. 
 
 When we look at the civilizations which have preceded 
 that of modern Europe, whether in Asia, or elsewhere, in- 
 cluding even those of Greece and Rome, it is impossible 
 not to be struck with the unity of character which reigns 
 among them. Each appears as though it had emanated 
 from a single fact, from a single idea. One might almost 
 assert that society was under the influence of one single 
 principle, which universally prevailed and determined the 
 character of its institutions, its manners, its opinions — in 
 a word, all its developments. 
 
 ♦ This lecture, in the original, is introduced by a few words, in which 
 the author offers to explain privately any points of his discourse, not well 
 understood, to such as shall apply; also to state that he is obliged fre- 
 quently to make assertions without being able, from the short time allot- 
 ted him, to give the proofs they seem to require. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 37 
 
 In Egypt, for e-xample, it was the theoretic principle 
 that took possession of society, and showed itself in its 
 manners, in its monuments, and in all that is come down to 
 us of Egyptian civilization. In India the same phenome- 
 non occurs — it is still a repetition of the almost exclusive- 
 ly prevailing influence of theocracy. In other regions a 
 different organization may be observed — perhaps the domi- 
 nation of a conquering caste : and where such is the case, 
 the principle of force takes entire possession of society, 
 imposing upon it its laws and its character. In another 
 place, perhaps, we discover society under the entire influ- 
 ence of the democratic principle ; such was the case in the 
 commercial republics which covered the coasts of Asia 
 Minor and Syria — in Ionia and Phoenicia. In a word, 
 whenever v/e contemplate the civilizations of the ancients, 
 we find them all impressed with one ever-prevailing cha- 
 racter of unity, visible in their institutions, their ideas, 
 and manners — one sole, or at least one very preponderat- 
 ing influence, seems to govern and determine all things. 
 
 I do not mean to aver that this overpowering influence 
 of one single principle, of one single form, prevailed with- 
 out any exception in the civilization of those states. If 
 we go back to their earliest history, we shall find that the 
 various powers which dwelt in the bosom of these socie- 
 ties frequently struggled for mastery. Thus among the 
 Egyptians, the Etruscans, even among the Greeks and 
 others, we may observe the warrior caste struggling 
 against that of the priests. In other places we find the 
 spirit of clanship struggling against the spirit of free as- 
 sociation, the spirit of aristocracy against popular rights. 
 These struggles, however, mostly took place in periods 
 beyond the reach of history, and no evidence of them is 
 left beyond a vague tradition. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, these early struggles broke out 
 afresh at a later period in the history of the nations j 
 
 4 
 
38 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 but in almost every case they were quickly terminated by 
 the victory of one of the powers which sought to prevail, 
 and which then took sole possession of society. The 
 war always ended by the domination of some special 
 principle, which, if not exclusive, at least greatly prepon- 
 derated. The co-existence and strife of various princi- 
 ples among these nations was no more than a passing, an 
 accidental circumstance. 
 
 From this cause a remarkable unity characterizes most 
 of the civilizations of antiquity, the results of which, 
 however, were very different. In one nation, as in Greece, 
 the unity of the social principle led to a development of 
 wonderful rapidity ; no other people ever ran so brilliant 
 a career in so short a time. But Greece had hardly be- 
 come glorious, before she appeared worn out : her decline, 
 if not quite so rapid as her rise, was strangely sudden. 
 It seems as if the principle which called Greek civiliza- 
 tion (into life) was exhausted. No other came to invigo- 
 rate it, or supply its place. 
 
 In other states, say, for example, in India and Egypt, 
 where again only one principle of civilization prevailed, 
 the result was different. Society here became station- 
 ary, simplicity produced monotony ; the country was 
 not destroyed; society continued to exist; but there was 
 no progression ; it remained torpid and inactive. 
 
 To this same cause must be attritnited that character 
 of tyranny which prevailed, under various names, and the 
 most opposite forms, in all the civilizations of antiquity. 
 Society belonged to one exclusive power, which could 
 bear with no other. Every principle ( i a different ten- 
 dency was proscribed. The governing principle would 
 nowhere suffer by its side the manifestation and influence 
 of a rival principle. 
 
 T-iis character of simplicity, of unity, in their civilization, 
 is equally impressed upon their literature and intellectual 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 39 
 
 productions. Who that has run over the monuments of 
 Hindoo literature, lately introduced into Europe, but has 
 seen that they are all struck from the same die 1 They 
 all seem the result of one same fact ; the expression of 
 one same idea. Religious and moral treatises, historical 
 traditions, dramatic poetry, epics, all bear the same phy- 
 siognomy. The same character of unity and monotony 
 shines out in these works of mind and fancy, as we dis- 
 cover in their life and institutions. Even in Greece, not- 
 withstanding the immense stores of knowledge and intel- 
 lect which it poured forth, a wonderful unity still pre- 
 vailed in all relating to literature and the arts. 
 
 How different to all this is the case as respects the civi- 
 lization of modern Europe ! Take ever so rapid a glance 
 at this, and it strikes you at once as diversified, confused, 
 and stormy. All the principles of social organization are 
 found existing together within it ; powers temporal, pow- 
 ers spiritual, the theoretic, monarchic, aristocratic, and 
 democratic elements, all classes of society, all the social 
 situations, are jumbled together, and visible within it ; as 
 well as infinite gradations of liberty, of wealth, and of in- 
 fluence. These various powers, too, are found here in a 
 state of continual struggle among themselves, without 
 any one having sufficient force to master the others, and 
 take sole possession of society. Among the ancients, at 
 every great epoch, all communities seem cast in the same 
 mould : it was now pure monarchy, now theocracy or de- 
 mocracy, that became the reigning principle, each in its 
 turn reigning absolutely. But modern Europe contains 
 examples of all these systems, of all the attempts at social 
 organization ; pure and mixed monarchies, theocracies, 
 republics more or less aristocratic, all live in common, side 
 by side, at one and the same time ; yet, notwithstanding 
 their diversity, they all bear a certain resemblance to each 
 other, a kind of family likeness which it is impossible to 
 
40 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 mistake, and which shows them to be essentially Euro- 
 pean. 
 
 In the moral character, in the notions and sentiments 
 of Europe, we find the same variety, the same struggle. 
 Theoretical opinions, monarchical opinions, aristocratic 
 opinions, democratic opinions, cross and jostle, struggle, 
 become interwoven, limit, and modify each other. Open 
 the boldest treatises of the middle age : in none of them 
 is an opinion carried to its final consequences. The ad- 
 vocates of absolute power flinch, almost unconsciously, 
 from the results to which their doctrine would carry them. 
 We see that the ideas and influences around them frighten 
 them from pushing it to its uttermost point. Democracy 
 felt the same control. That imperturbable boldness, so 
 striking in ancient civilizations, nowhere found a place in\ 
 the European system. In sentiments we discover the same* 
 contrasts, the same variety ; an indomitable taste for inde- 
 pendence dwelling by the side of the greatest aptness for 
 submission ; a singular fidelity between man and man, and 
 at the same time an imperious desire in each to do his own 
 will, to shake off all restraint, to live alone, without trou- 
 bling himself with the rest of the world. Minds were as 
 much diversified as society. 
 
 The same characteristic is observable in literature. It 
 cannot be denied that in what relates to the form and beau- 
 ty of art, modern Europe is very inferior to antiquity ; but 
 if we look at her literature as regards depth of feeling and 
 ideas, it will be found more powerful and rich. The human 
 mind has been employed upon a greater number of objects, 
 its labours have been more diversified, it has gone to a 
 greater depth. Its imperfection in form is owing to this 
 very cause. The more plenteous and rich the materials, 
 the greater is the difficulty of forcing them into a pure and 
 simple form. That which gives beauty to a composition, 
 that which in works of art we call form, is the cle^irness, the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 41 
 
 simplicity, the symbolical unity of the work. With the 
 prodigious diversity of ideas and sentiments which belong 
 to European civilization, the difficulty to attain this grand 
 and chaste simplicity has been increased. 
 
 In every part, then, we find this character of variety to 
 prevail in modern civilization. It has undoubtedly brought 
 with it this inconvenience, that when we consider separate- 
 ly any particular development of the human mind in litera- 
 ture, in the arts, in any of the ways in which human intelli- 
 gence may go forward, we shall generally find it inferior to 
 the corresponding development in the civilization of anti- 
 quity ; but, as a set-off to this, when we regard it as a whole, 
 European civilization appears incomparably more rich and 
 diversified: if each particular fruit has not attained the 
 same perfection, it has ripened an infinitely greater variety. 
 Ao-ain, European civilization has now endured fifteen cen- 
 turies, and in all that time it has been in a state of progres- 
 sion. It may be true that it has not advanced so rapidly as 
 the Greek ; but, catching new impulses at every step, it is 
 still adv-ancing. An unbounded career is open before it ; 
 and from day to day it presses forward to the race with in- 
 creasing rapidity, because increased freedom attends upon 
 all its movements. While in other civilizations the exclu- 
 sive domination, or at least the excessive preponderance of 
 a single principle, of a single form, led to tyranny, in mod- 
 ern Europe the diversity of the elements of social order, 
 the incapability of any one to exclude the rest, gave birth 
 to the liberty which now prevails. The inability of the va- 
 rious principles to exterminate one another compelled each 
 to endure the others, made it necessary for them to live in 
 common, for them to enter into a sort of mutual under- 
 standing. Each consented to have only that part of civil- 
 ization which fell to its share. Thus, while everywhere 
 else the predominance of one principle has produced tyr- 
 anny, the variety of elements of European civilization, and 
 the constant warfare in which they have been engaged, 
 
 4* 
 
42 GEA'ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 have given birth in Europe to that liberty which we prize 
 so dearly. 
 
 It is this which gives to European civilization its real, 
 its immense superiority — it is this which forms its essen- 
 tial, its distinctive character. And if, carrying our views 
 still further, we penetrate beyond the surface into the 
 very nature of things, we shall lind that this superiority is 
 legitimate — that it is acknowledged by reason as well as 
 proclaimed by facts. Quitting for a moment European 
 civilization, and taking a glance at the Avorld in general, 
 at the common course of earthly things, what is the char- 
 acter we find it to bear ] What do we here perceive 1 
 Why just that very same diversity, that very same variety 
 of elements, that very same struggle which is so striking- 
 ly evinced in European civilization. It is plain enough 
 that no single principle, no particular organization, no 
 simple idea, no special power has ever been permitted to 
 obtain possession of the world, to mould it into a durable 
 form, and to drive from it every opposing tendency, so as 
 to reign itself supreme. Various powers, principles, and 
 systems here intermingle, modify one another, and strug- 
 gle incessantly — now subduing, now subdued — never whol- 
 ly conquered, never conquering. Such is apparently the 
 general state of the world, while diversity of forms, of 
 ideas, of principles, their struggles and their energies, all 
 tend towards a certain unity, a certain ideal, which, though 
 perhaps it may never be attained, mankind is constantly 
 approaching by dint of liberty and labour. Hence Euro- 
 pean civilization is the reflected image of the w^orld — hke 
 the course of earthly things, it is neither narroAvly circum- 
 scribed, exclusive, nor stationary. For the first time, civ- 
 ilization appears to have divested itself of its special char- 
 acter : its development presents itself for the first time 
 under as diversified, as abundant, as laborious an aspect as 
 the great theatre of the universe itself. 
 
 European civiUzation has, if I may be allowed the ex- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 43 
 
 pression, at last penetrated into the ways of eternal truth 
 — into the scheme of Providence ; — it moves in the ways 
 which God has prescribed. This is the rational principle 
 of its superiority. 
 
 Let it not, I beseech you, be forgotten — bear in mind, 
 as we proceed with these lectures, that it is in this diver- 
 sity of elements, and their constant struggle, that the es- 
 sential character of our civilization consists. At present 
 I can do no more than assert this ; its proof will be found 
 in the facts I shall bring before you. Still I think you 
 will acknowledge it to be a confirmation of this assertion, 
 if I can show you, that the causes, and the elements of the 
 character which I have just attributed to.it, can be traced 
 to the very cradle of our civilization. If, I say, at the 
 very moment of her birth, at the very hour in which the 
 Roman empire fell, I can show you, in the state of the 
 world, the circumstances which, from the beginning, have 
 concurred to give to European civilization that agitated 
 and diversified, but at the same time prolific, character 
 which distinguishes it, I think I shall have a strong claim 
 upon your assent to its truth. In order to accomplish 
 this, I shall begin by investigating the condition of Europe 
 at the fall of the Roman empire, so that we may discover 
 in its institutions, in its opinions, its ideas, its sentiments, 
 what were the elements which the ancient world be- 
 queathed to the modern. And upon these elements you 
 will see strongly impressed the character which I have 
 just described. 
 
 It is necessary that Ave should first see what the Roman 
 empire was, and how it was formed. 
 
 Rome in its origin was a mere municipahty, a corpora- 
 tion. The Roman government was nothing more than an 
 assemblage of institutions suitable to a population enclosed 
 within the walls of a city ; that is to say, they were mu- 
 nicipal institutions \ — this was their distinctive character. 
 
M< GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 This was not peculiar to Rome. If we look, in this pe- 
 riod, at the part of Italy which surrounded Rome, we find 
 nothinnr but cities. What were then called nations were 
 nothing more than confederations of cities. The Latin 
 nation was a confederation of Latin cities. The Etruri- 
 ans, the Samnites, the Sabines, the nations of Magna Grse- 
 cia, were all composed in the same way. 
 
 At this time there were no country places, no villages ; 
 at least the country was nothing like what it is in the pre- 
 sent day. It was cultivated, no doubt, but it was not peo- 
 pled. The proprietors of lands and of country estates 
 dwelt in cities ; they left these occasionally to visit their 
 rural property, where they usually kept a certain number 
 of slaves ; but that which we now call the country, that scat- 
 tered population, sometimes in lone houses, sometimes in 
 hamlets and villages, and which everywhere dots our land 
 with agricultural dwellings, was altogether unknown in 
 ancient Italy. 
 
 And what was the case when Rome extended her bound- 
 aries 1 If we foDow her history, we shall find that she 
 conquered or founded a host of cities. It was with cities 
 she fought, it was with cities she treated, it was into cities 
 she sent colonies. In short, the history of the conquest of 
 the world by Rome is the history of the conquest and 
 foundation of a vast number of cities. It is true that in 
 the East the extension of the Roman dominion bore some- 
 what of a difierent character; the population was not dis- 
 tributed there in the same way as in the western world ; 
 it was under a social system, partaking more of the patri- 
 archal form, and was consequently much less concentrated 
 in cities. But, as we have only to do with the population 
 of Europe, I shall not dwell upon what relates to that of 
 the East. 
 
 Confining ourselves, then, to the West, we shall find the 
 fact to be such as I have described it. In the Gauls, in 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 45 
 
 Spain, we meet with nothing but cities. At any distance 
 from these, the country consisted of marshes and forests. 
 Examine the character of the monuments left us of ancient 
 Eome — the old Roman roads. We find great roads ex- 
 tending from city to city ; but the thousands of little bye- 
 paths, which now intersect every part of the country, 
 were then unknown. Neither do we find any traces of 
 that immense number of lesser objects — of churches, cas- 
 tles, country-seats, and villages, which were spread all 
 over the country during the middle ages. Rome has left 
 no traces of this kind; her only bequest consists of vast 
 monuments impressed with a municipal character, des- 
 tined for a numerous population, crowded into a single 
 spot. In whatever point of view you consider the Roman 
 world, you meet with this almost exclusive preponderance 
 of cities, and an absence of country populations and 
 dwellings. This municipal character of the Roman world 
 evidently rendered the unity, the social tie of a great 
 state, extremely difficult to establish and maintain. 
 
 A municipal corporation like Rome might be able to 
 conquer the world, but it was a much more difficult task to 
 govern it, to mould it into one compact body. Thus, when 
 the work seemed done, when all the West and a great part 
 of the East had submitted to the Roman yoke, we find an 
 immense host of cities, of little states, formed for separate 
 existence and independence, breaking their chains, es- 
 caping on every side. This was one of the causes which 
 made the establishment of the empire necessary ; which 
 called for a more concentrated form of government, one 
 better able to hold together elements which had so few 
 points of cohesion. The empire endeavoured to unite and to 
 bind together this extensive and scattered society; and to 
 a certain point it succeeded. Between the reigns of Au- 
 gustus and Dioclesian, during the very time that her ad- 
 mirable civil legislation was being carried to perfection, 
 
46 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 that vast and despotic administration was established, 
 which, spreading- over the empire a sort of chain-work of 
 functionaries subordinately arranged, firmly knit together 
 the people and the imperial court, serving at the same time 
 to convey to society the will of the government, and to 
 bring to the government the tribute and obedience of so- 
 ciety. 
 
 This system, besides rallying the forces, and holding 
 together the elements, of the Roman world, introduced 
 with wonderful celerity into society a taste for despotism, 
 for central power. It is truly astonishing to see how rap- 
 idly this incoherent assemblage of little republics, this as- 
 sociation of municipal corporations, sunk into an humble 
 and obedient respect for the sacred name of emperor. 
 The necessity for establishing some tie between all these 
 parts of the Roman world must have been very apparent 
 and powerful, otherwise we can hardly conceive how the 
 spirit of despotism could so easily have made its way into 
 the minds and almost into the affections of the people. 
 
 It was with this spirit, with this administrative organi- 
 zation, and with the military system connected with it, 
 that the Roman empire struggled against the dissolution 
 which was working within it, and against the barbarians 
 who attacked it from without. But, though it struggled 
 long, the day at length arrived when all the skill and power 
 of despotism, when all the pliancy of servitude, was 
 insufficient to prolong its fate. In the fourth century all 
 the ties which had held this immense body together, seem 
 to have been loosened or snapped j the barbarians broke 
 in on every side ; the provinces no longer resisted, no 
 longer troubled themselves with the general destiny. At 
 this crisis an extraordinary idea entered the minds of one 
 or two of the emperors : they wished to try whether the 
 hope of general liberty, whether a confederation, a sys- 
 tem something like what we now call the representative 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 47 
 
 system, would not better defend the Roman empire than 
 the despotic administration which already existed. There 
 is a mandate of Honorius and the younger Theodosius, 
 addressed in the year 418, to the prefect of Gaul, the ob- 
 ject of which was to establish a sort of representative 
 government in the south of Gaul, and by its aid still to 
 preserve the unity of empire. 
 
 Rescript of the Emperors Honorius and TTieodosius the Younger^ 
 addressed in the year 418, to the Prefect of the Gauls, residing at Aries. 
 
 "Honorius and Theodosius, Augusti, to Agricoli, Prefect of the Gauls. 
 
 "In consequence of the very salutary representation which your Mag- 
 nificence has made to us, as well as upon other information obviously 
 advantageous to the republic, we decree, in order that they may have the 
 force of a perpetual law, that the following regulations should be made, 
 and that obedience should be paid to them by the inhabitants of our seven 
 provinces,* and which are such as they themselves should wish for and 
 require. Seeing that from motives, both of public and private utility, re- 
 sponsible persons or special deputies should be sent, not only by each 
 province, but by each city, to your Magnificence, not only to render up 
 accounts, but also to treat of such matters as concern the interest of 
 landed proprietors, we have judged that it would be both convenient and 
 highly advantageous to have annually, at a fixed period, and to date from 
 the present year, an assembly for the inhabitants of the seven provinces 
 held in the Metropolis, that is to say, in the city of Aries. By this insti- 
 tution our desire is to provide both for public and private interests. First, 
 by the union of the most influential inhabitants in the presence of their 
 illustrious Prefect, (unless he should be absent from causes affecting pub- 
 lic order,) and by their deliberations, upon every subject brought before 
 them, tile best possible advice will be obtained. Nothing which shall 
 have been treated of and determined upon, after a mature discussion, 
 shall be kept from the knowledge of the rest of the provinces ; and such 
 as have not assisted at the assembly shall be bound to follow the same 
 rules of justice and equity. Furthermore, by ordaining that an assembly 
 should be held every year in the city of Constantine,t we believe that we 
 are doing not only what will be advantageous to the public welfare, but 
 what will also multiply its social relations. Indeed, this city is so favour- 
 ably situated, foreigners resort to it in such large numbers, and it pos- 
 
 * Vieune, the two Aquitaines, Novempopulana, the two Nar bonnes, and 
 the province of the Maritime Alps. 
 
 t Constantine the Great was singularly partial to Aries ; it was he who 
 made it the seat of the prefecture of the Gauls: he desired also that it should 
 bear his name ; but custom was more powerful than his wilL 
 
48 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 Besses so extensive a commerce, that all the varied productions and man- 
 ufactures of the rest of tlie world are to be seen within it. All that the 
 opulent Ka?t, the perfumed Arabia, the delicate Assyria, the fertile Africa, 
 the beautiful Spam, and the courageous Gaul, produce worthy of note, 
 abound here m such profusion, that all things adnurtd ts magnificent in 
 the different parts of the world seem the productions of its own climate. 
 Further, the union of the Rhone and the Tuscan sea so facilitate inter- 
 course, that the countries which the former traverses, and the latter wa- 
 ters in its winding course, are made almost neighbours. Thus, as ihe 
 whole earth yields up its most esteemed productions for the service of this 
 city, as the particular commodities of each country are transported to it 
 by land, by sea, by rivers, by ships, by rafts, by wagons, how can our 
 Gaul fail of seeing the great benefit we confer upon it by convoking a pub- 
 lic assembly to be held m this city, upon which, by a special gifr, as it 
 were, of Divine Providence, has been showered all the enjoyments of life, 
 and all the facilities for commerce? 
 
 "The illustrious Prefect Peiroiiius* did, some time ago, with a praise- 
 wortliy and enlightened view, ordain that this custom should be observed ; 
 but as its practice was interrupted by the troubles of the times and the 
 reign of usurpers, we have resolved' to put it again in force, by the pru- 
 dent exercise of our authority. Thus, then, dear and well-beloved cousin 
 Agricola, your ^\lagnificence, conforming to our present ordinance and the 
 custom established by your predecessors, will cause the following regula- 
 tions to be observed in the provinces : — 
 
 "It will be necessary to make known unto all persons honoured with 
 public functions or proprietors of domains, and to all the judges of pro- 
 vinces, that they must attend in council every year in the city of Aries, 
 between the Ides of August and September, the days of convocation and 
 of session to be fixed at pleasure. 
 
 " iVovempopulana and the second Aquitaine, being the most distant 
 provinces, shall have the power, according to custom, to send, if their 
 judges should be detained by indispensable duties, deputies in their stead. 
 
 '■ Such pers urs as neglect to attend ar the place appointed, and within 
 the prescribed period, shall pay a fine : viz. judges, five pounds of gold ; 
 members of the curiae and other dij^nitaries, three pounds.t 
 
 *' By this measure we conceive we are granting great advantages and 
 favour to the inhabitants of our provinces- We have also the certainty of 
 adding to the welfare of the city of Aries, to the fidelity of which, ac- 
 cording to our father and countryman, we owe so much.t 
 
 "Given the 15ih of the calends of May; received at Aries the 10th of 
 the calends of June." 
 
 * Petronius was Prefect of the Gauls between 402 and 403. 
 
 t The municipal corps of the Roman cities were called curi^, and the mem- 
 bers of these bojies, who were very numerous, curiales. 
 
 J Constantine the Second, husband of Placidia, whom Honorius had taken 
 for his colleague in 421. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN ErROPE. 49 
 
 Notwithstanding this call, the provinces and cities re- 
 fused the proffered boon ; nobody would name deputies, 
 none would go to Aries. This centralization, this unity, 
 was opposed to the primitive nature of this society. The 
 spirit of locality, and of municipality, everywhere re- 
 appeared ; the impossibility of re-constructing a general 
 society, of building up the whole into one general state, 
 became evident. The cities, confining themselves to the 
 airs of their own corporations, shut themselves up within 
 their own walls, and the empire fell, because none would 
 belong to the empire ; because citizens wished but to be- 
 long to their city. Thus the Roman empire, at its fall, was 
 resolved into the elements of which it had been composed, 
 and the preponderance of municipal rule and government 
 \vas again everywhere visible. The Roman Avorld had 
 been formed of cities, and to cities again it returned. 
 
 This municipal system was the bequest of the ancient 
 Roman civilization to modern Europe. It had no doubt 
 become feeble, irregular, and very inferior to what it had 
 been at an earlier period 5 but it was the only living prin- 
 ciple, the only one that retained any form, the only one 
 that survived the general destruction of the Roman world. 
 When I say the only one, I mistake. There was another 
 phenomenon, another idea, which likewise outlived it. I 
 mean the remembrance of the empire, and the title of the 
 emperor, — the idea of imperial majesty, and of absolute 
 power attached to the name of emperor. It must be ob- 
 served, then, that the two elements which passed from the 
 Roman civilization into ours were, first^ the system of 
 municipal corporations, its habits, its regulations, its prin- 
 ciple of liberty — a general civil legislation, common to 
 all; secondly^ the idea of absolute power; — the principle 
 of order and the principle of servitude. 
 
 Meanwhile, within the very heart of Roman society, 
 there had grown up another society of a very different na- 
 
 5 
 
50 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 turc, founded upon different principles, animated by differ- 
 ent sentiments, and which has brought into European civi- 
 lization elements of a widely different character : I speak 
 of the Christian Church. I say the Christian Church, 
 and not Christianity, between which a broad distinction 
 is to be made. At the end of the fourth century, and the 
 beginning of the fifth, Christianity was no longer a simple 
 belief, it was an institution — it had formed itself into a 
 corporate body. It had its government, a body of priests; 
 a settled ecclesiastical polity for the regulation of their 
 different functions ; revenues; independent means of in- 
 fluence. It had the rallying points suitable to a great so- 
 ciety, in its provincial, national, and general councils, in 
 which were wont to be debated in common the affairs of 
 society. In a word, the Christian religion, at this epoch, 
 was no longer merely a religion, it was a Church. 
 
 Had it not been a Church, it is hard to say what would 
 have been its fate in the general convulsion which attended 
 the overthrow of the Roman empire. Looking only to 
 worldly means, putting out of the question the aids and su- 
 perintending power of Divine Providence, and considering 
 only the natural effects of natural causes, it would be diffi- 
 cult to say how Christianity, if it had continued what it 
 was at first, a mere belief, an individual conviction, could 
 have withstood the shock occasioned by the dissolution of 
 the Roman empire and the invasion of the barbarians. At 
 a later period, when it had even become an institution, an 
 established Church, it fell in Asia and the North of Africa, 
 upon an invasion of a like kind — that of the Mohamme- 
 dans ; and circumstances seem to point out that it was still 
 more likely such would have been its fate at the fall of the 
 Roman empire. At this time there existed none of those 
 means by which in the present day moral influences become 
 established or rejected without the aid of institutions; none 
 of those means by which an abstract truth now makes way, 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 51 
 
 gains an authority over mankind, governs their actions, and 
 directs their movements. Nothing of this kind existed in 
 the fourth century j nothing which could give to simple 
 ideas, to personal opinions, so much weight and power. 
 Hence I think it may be assumed, that only a society firmly 
 established, under a powerful government and rules of 
 discipline, could hope to bear up amid such disasters — 
 could hope to weather so violent a storm. I think then, 
 humanly speaking, that it is not too much to aver, that in 
 the fourth and fifth centuries it was the Christian Church 
 that saved Christianity ; that it was the Christian Church, 
 with its institutions, its magistrates, its authority — the 
 Christian Church, which struggled so vigorously to pre- 
 vent the interior dissolution of the empire, which strug- 
 gled against the barbarian, and which, in fact, overcame 
 the barbarian; — it was this Church, I say, that became the 
 great connecting link — the principle of civilization be- 
 tween the Roman and the barbarian Avorld. It is the state 
 of the Church, then, rather than religion strictly under- 
 stood, — rather than that pure and simple faith of the Gos- 
 pel which all true believers must regard as its highest 
 triumph, — that we must look at in the fifth century, in 
 order to discover what influence Christianity had from 
 this time upon modern civilization, and what are the ele- 
 ments it has introduced into it. 
 
 Let us see what at this epoch the Christian Church 
 really was. 
 
 If we look, still in an entirely worldly point of view — 
 if we look at the changes which Christianity underwent 
 from its first rise, to the fifth century — if we examine it, 
 (still, I repeat, not in a religious, but solely in a political 
 sense,) we shall find that it passed through three essen- 
 tially different states. 
 
 In its infancy, in its very babyhood. Christian society 
 presents itself before us as a simple association of men 
 
52 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 possessing the same faith and opinions, the same senti- 
 ments and feelings. The first Christians met to enjoy to- 
 gether their common emotions, their common religious 
 convictions. At this time we find no settled form of doc- 
 trine, no settled rules of discipline, no body of magistrates. 
 
 Still, it is perfectly obvious, that no society, however 
 young, however feebly held together, or w^iatever its na- 
 ture, can exist without some moral power which animates 
 and guides it ; and thus, in the various Christian congre- 
 gations, there were men w^ho preached, who taught, who 
 morally governed the congregation. Still there was no 
 settled magistrate, no discipline ; a simple association of 
 believers in a common faith, with common sentiments and 
 feelino-s, w^as the first condition of Christian society. 
 
 But the moment this society began to advance, and al- 
 most at its birth, for Ave find traces of them in its earliest 
 documents, there gradually became moulded a form of 
 doctrine, rules of discipline, a body of magistrates : of 
 magistrates called ttq^g^vteqoi^ or elders, who afterwards 
 became priests ; of IniG'/.onoi, inspectors or overseers, 
 who became bishops ; and of didy.ovoi, or deacons, whose 
 office was the care of the poor and the distribution of 
 alms. 
 
 It is almost impossible to determine the precise func- 
 tions of these magistrates; the line of demarkation was 
 probably very vague and wavering; yet here was the em- 
 bryo of institutions. Still, however, there was one pre- 
 vailing character in this second epoch : it was that the 
 power, the authority, the preponderating influence, still 
 remained in the hands of the general body of believers. 
 It W' as they who decided in the election of magistrates, as 
 well as in the adoption of rules of discipline and doctrine. 
 No separation had as yet taken place between the Chris- 
 tian government and the Christian people ; neither as yet 
 existed apart from, or independently of, the other, and it 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 53 
 
 was still the great body of Christian believers who exer- 
 cised the principal influence in the society. 
 
 In the third period all this Avas entirely changed. The 
 clergy were separated from the people, and now formed a 
 distinct body, with its own wealth, its owti jurisdiction,^its 
 own constitution ; in a word, it had its own government, 
 and formed a complete society of itself, — a society, too, 
 provided with all the means of existence, independently 
 of the society to which it applied itself, and over which 
 it extended its influence. This was the third state of the 
 Christian Church, and in this state it existed at the open- 
 ing of the fifth century. The government was not yet 
 completely separated from the people j for no such gov- 
 ernment as yet existed, and less so in religious matters 
 than in any other ; but, as respects the relation between 
 the clergy and Christians in general, it was the clergy who 
 governed, and governed almost without control. 
 
 But, besides the influence which the clergy derived 
 from their spiritual functions, they possessed considerable 
 power over society, from their having become chief mag- 
 istrates in the city corporations. We have already seen, 
 that, strictly speaking, nothing had descended from the 
 Roman empire, except its municipal system. Now it had 
 fallen out that by the vexations of despotism, and the 
 ruin of the cities, the curiales, or oflicers of the corpora- 
 tions, had sunk into insignificance and inanity ; while the 
 bishops and the great body of the clergy, full of vigour 
 and zeal, were naturally prepared to guide and watch over 
 them. It is not fair to accuse the clergy of usurpation in 
 this matter, for it fell out according to the common course 
 of events : the clergy alone possessed moral strength and 
 activity, and the clergy everywhere sue ceded to power — 
 such is the common law of the universe. 
 
 The change which had taken place in this respect 
 shows itself in every part of the legislation of the Roman 
 
 5* 
 
54 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Emperors at this period. In opening the Theodosian and 
 Justinian codes, we find innumerable enactments, which 
 place the management of the municipal affairs in the 
 hands of the clergy and bishops. I shall cite a few. 
 
 Cod. Just., L. I., tit. iv., De Episcopali audientia, § 26.— With regard 
 to the yearly affairs of the cities, (whether as respects the ordinary city 
 revenues, the funds arising from the city estates, from legacies or partic- 
 ular gifts, or from any other source; whether as respects the manage- 
 ment of the puhlic works, of the magazines of provisions, of the aqueducts; 
 of the maintenance of the public baths, the city gates, of the building of 
 walls or towers, the repairing of bridges and roads, or of any lawsuit in 
 which the city may be engaged on account of public or private interests,) 
 we ordain as follows : — The right reverend bishop, and three men of good 
 report, from among the chiefs of the city, shall assemble together ; every 
 year they shall examine the works done ; they shall take care that those 
 who conduct, or have conducted them, measure them correctly, give a 
 true account of them, and cause it to be seen that they have fulfilled their 
 contracts, whether in the care of the public monuments, in the moneys 
 expended in provisions and the public baths, of all that is expended for 
 the repairs of the roads, aqueducts, and all other matters. 
 
 Ibid., § 30. — With respect to the guardianship of youth, of the first and 
 second age, and of all those to whom the law gives curators, if their for- 
 tune is not more than 5000 aurei, we ordain that the nomination of the 
 president of the province should not be waited for, on account of the great 
 expense it would occasion, especially if the president should not reside in 
 the city, in which it becomes necessary to provide for the guardianship. 
 The nomination of the curators or tutors shall, in this case, be made 
 by the magistrate of the city .... in concert with the right reverend 
 bishop and other persons invested with public authority, if more than one 
 should reside in the city. 
 
 Jbid., L. I., tit. v., De Defensoribus, § 8. — We desire the defenders of 
 cities, well instructed in the holy mysteries of the orthodox faith, should 
 be chosen and instituted into their office by the reverend bishops, the 
 clerks, notables, proprietors, and the curiales. With regard to their in- 
 Btallation, it must be committed to the glorious power of the prefects of 
 the prsetorium, in order that their authority should have all the stability 
 and weight which the letters of admission granted by his Magnificence 
 are likely to give. 
 
 I could cite numerous other laws to the same effect, and 
 in all of them you would see this one fact very strikingly 
 prevail : namely, that between the Roman municipal sys- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 55 
 
 tern, and that of the free cities of the middle ages, there 
 intervened an ecclesiastical municipal system ; the prepon- 
 derance of the clergy in the management of the affairs of 
 the city corporations succeeded to that of the ancient 
 Roman municipal magistrates, and paved the way for the 
 organization of our modern free communities. 
 
 It will at once be seen what an amazing accession of 
 power the Christian Church gained by these means, not 
 only in its own peculiar circle, by its increased influence 
 on the body of Christians, but also by the part which it 
 took in temporal matters. And it is from this period we 
 should date its powerful co-operation in the advance of 
 modern civilization, and the extensive influence it has had 
 upon its character. Let us briefly run over the advantages 
 which it introduced into it. 
 
 And, first, it was of immense advantage to European 
 civilization that a moral influence, a moral power — a 
 power resting entirely upon moral convictions, upon moral 
 opinions and sentiments — should have established itself in 
 society, just at this period, when it seemed upon the point 
 of being crushed by the overwhelming physical force, 
 which had taken possession of it. Had not the Christian 
 Church at this time existed, the whole world must have 
 fallen a prey to mere brute force. The Christian Church 
 alone posessed a moral power ; it maintained and promul- 
 gated the idea of a precept, of a law superior to all human 
 authority ; it proclaimed that great truth which forms the 
 only foundation of our hope for humanity; namely, that 
 there exists a law above all human law, which, by what- 
 ever name it may be called, whether reason, the law of 
 God, or what not, is, in all times and in all places, the 
 same law under different names. 
 
 Finally, the Church commenced an undertaking of great 
 importance to society — I mean the separation of temporal 
 and spiritual authority, This separation is the only true 
 
56 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 source of liberty of conscience j it was based upon no 
 other principle than that which serves as the groundwork 
 for the strictest and most extensive liberty of conscience. 
 The separation of temporal and spiritual power rests 
 solely upon the idea that physical, that brute force, has 
 no right or authority over the mind, over convictions, 
 over truth. It flows from the distinction established be- 
 tween the world of thought and the world of action, be- 
 tween our inward and intellectual nature and the outward 
 world around us. So that, however paradoxical it may 
 seem, that very principle of liberty of conscience for which 
 Europe has so long struggled, so much suffered, which 
 has only so lately prevailed, and that in many instances, 
 against the will of the clergy, — that very principle was 
 acted upon under the name of a separation of the tem- 
 poral and spiritual power, in the infancy of European civil- 
 ization. It was, moroever, the Christian Church itself, 
 driven to assert it by the circumstances in which it was 
 placed, as a means of defence against barbarism, that in- 
 troduced and maintained it. 
 
 The establishment, then, of a moral influence, the main- 
 tenance of this divine law, and the separation of temporal 
 and spiritual poAver, may be enumerated as the great ben- 
 jefits which the Christian Church extended to European 
 • society in the fifth century. 
 
 Unfortunately all its influences, even at this period, 
 were not equally beneficial. Already, even before the 
 close of the fifth century, we discover some of those vi- 
 cious principles which have had so baneful an effect on the 
 advancement of our civilization. There already prevailed 
 in the bosom of the Church a desire to separate the gov- 
 erning and the governed. The attempt was thus early 
 made to render the gox^ernment entirely independent of 
 the people under its authority — to take possession of their 
 mind and life, without the conviction of their reason or 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 57 
 
 the consent of their will. The Church, moreover, en- 
 deavoured with all her might to establish the principle of 
 theocracy, to usurp temporal authority, to obtain universal 
 dominion. And when she failed in this, when she found she 
 could not obtain absolute power for herself, she did what 
 was almost as bad : to obtain a share of it, she leagued 
 herself with temporal rulers, and enforced, with all her 
 might, their claim to absolute power at the expense of the 
 liberty of the subject. 
 
 Such then, I think, were the principal elements of civi- 
 lization which Europe derived, in the fifth century, from 
 the Church and from the Eoman empire. Such was the 
 state of the Roman world when the barbarians came to 
 make it their prey ; and we have now only to study the 
 barbarians themselves, in order to be acquainted with the 
 elements which were united and mixed together in the 
 cradle of our civilization. 
 
 It must be here understood that we have nothing to do 
 with the history of the barbarians. It is enough for our 
 purpose to know, that with the exception of a few Slavo- 
 nian tribes, such as the Alans, they were all of the same 
 German origin: and that they wereallinpretty nearly the 
 same state of civilization. It is true that some little dif- 
 ference might exist in this respect, accordingly as these 
 nations had more or less intercourse with the Roman 
 world ; and there is no doubt but the Goths had made a 
 greater progress, and had become more refined, than the 
 Franks ; but in a general point of v'iew, and with regard to 
 the matter before us, these little differences are of no con- 
 sequence whatever. 
 
 A general notion of the state of society among the bar- 
 barians, such, at least, as will enable us to judge of what 
 they have contributed towards modern civilization, is all 
 that we require. This information, small as it may ap- 
 pear, it is now almost impossible to obtain. Respecting 
 
58 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the municipal system of the Romans and the state of the 
 Church we may form a tolerably accurate idea. Their in- 
 fluence has lasted to the present times ; we have vestig-es 
 of them in many of our institutions, and possess a thousand 
 means of becoming acquainted with them ; but the man- 
 ners and social state of the barbarians have completely 
 perished, and we are driven to conjecture what they were, 
 either from a very few ancient historical remains, or by 
 an effort of the imagination. 
 
 There is one sentiment, one in particular, which it is 
 necessary to understand before we can form a true pic- 
 ture of a barbarian 5 it is the pleasure of personal inde- 
 pendence — the pleasure of enjoying, in full force and 
 liberty, all his powers in the various ups and downs of 
 fortune ; the fondness for activity without labour j for a 
 life of enterprise and adventure. Such Avas the prevailing 
 character and disposition of the barbarians ; such were 
 the moral wants which put these immense masses of men 
 into motion. It is extremely difficult for us, in the regu- 
 lated society in which we move, to form any thing like a 
 correct idea of this feeling, and of the influence which it 
 exercised upon the rude barbarians of the fourth and fifth 
 centuries. There is, however, a history of the Norman 
 conquest of England, written by M. Thierry, in which the 
 character and disposition of the barbarian are depicted 
 with much life and vigour. In this admirable Avork, the 
 motives, the inclinations and impulses that stir men into 
 action in a state of life bordering on the savage, have 
 been felt and described in a truly masterly manner. There 
 is nowhere else to be found so correct a likeness of what 
 a barbarian was, or of his course of life. Something of 
 the same kind, but, in my opinion, much inferior, is found 
 in the novels of Mr. Cooper, in which he depicts the man- 
 ners of the saA^ages of America. In these scenes, in the 
 sentiments and social relations Avhich these savages hold 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 59 
 
 in the midst of their forests, there is unquestionably some- 
 thing which, to a certain point, calls up before us the 
 manners of the ancient Germans. No doubt these pic- 
 tures are a little imaginative, a little poetical ; the worst 
 features in the life and manners of the barbarians are not 
 given in all their naked coarseness. I allude not merely 
 to the evils which these manners forced into the social 
 condition, but to the inward individual condition of the 
 barbarian himself. There is in this passionate desire for 
 personal independence something of a grosser, more ma- 
 terial character than we should suppose from the work of 
 M. Thierry j a degree of brutality, of headstrong passion, 
 of apathy, which we do not discover in his details. Still, 
 notwithstanding this alloy of brutal and stupid selfishness, 
 there is, if we look more profoundly into the matter, 
 something of a noble and moral character, in this taste 
 for independence, which seems to derive its power from 
 our moral nature. It is the pleasure of feeling one's self a 
 man ; the sentiment of personality ; of human spontaneity 
 in its unrestricted development. 
 
 It was the rude barbarians of Germany who introduced 
 this sentiment of personal independence, this love of in- 
 dividual liberty, into European civilization ; it was un- 
 known among the Romans, it was unkno\\Ti in the Chris- 
 tian Church, it was unkno^\Ti in nearly all the civilizations 
 of antiquitj'-. The liberty which we meet with in ancient 
 civilizations, is political liberty : it is the liberty of the 
 citizen. It was not about his personal liberty that man 
 troubled himself, it was about his liberty as a citizen. He 
 formed part of an association, and to this alone he was 
 devoted. The case was the same in the Christian Church. 
 Among its members a devoted attachment to the Christian 
 body, a devotedness to its laws, and an earnest zeal for 
 the extension of its empire, were everywhere conspicu- 
 ous j the spirit of Christianity wrought a change in the 
 
60 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 moral character of man, opposed to this principle of inde- 
 pendence ; for under its influence his mind struggled to 
 extinguish its own liberty, and to deliver itself up entirely 
 to the dictates of his faith. But the feeling of personal 
 independence, a fondness for genuine liberty displaying 
 itself without regard to conseqsences. and with scarcely 
 any other aim than its own satisfaction — this feeling, I 
 repeat, w^as unknow^n to the Romans and to the Christians. 
 We are indebted for it to the barbarians, who introduced 
 it into European civilization, in which, from its first rise, 
 it has played so considerable a part, and has produced 
 such lasting and beneficial results, that it must be regard- 
 ed as one of its fundamental principles, and could not be 
 passed without notice. 
 
 There is another, a second element of civilization, which 
 we likewise inherit from the barbarians alone : I mean 
 military patronage, the tie which became formed betw^een 
 individuals, between w^arriors, and which, without destroy- 
 ing the liberty of any, without even destroying in the 
 commencement the equality up to a certain point w^hich 
 existed betw^een them, laid the foundation of a graduated 
 subordination, and was the origin of that aristocratical 
 organization which, at a later period, grew into the feudal 
 system. The germ of this connection w^as the attach- 
 ment of man to man ; the fidelity which united individuals, 
 without apparent necessity, without any obligation arising 
 from the general principles of society. In none of the 
 ancient republics do you see any example of individuals 
 particularly and freely attached to other individuals. They 
 were all attached to the city. Among the barbarians this 
 tie was formed between man and man ; first by the rela- 
 tionship of companion and chief, when they came in 
 bands to overrun Europe ; and at a later period, by the 
 relationship of sovereign and vassal. This second prin- 
 ciple, which has had so vast an influence in the civilization 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 61 
 
 of modern Europe — this clevotedness of man to man — 
 came to us entirely from our German ancestors ; it 
 formed part of their social system, and was adopted into 
 ours. 
 
 Let me now ask if I was not fully justified in stating, 
 as I did at the outset, that modern civilization, even in its 
 infancy, was diversified, agitated, and confused 1 Is it 
 not true that we find at the fall of the Roman empire 
 nearly all the elements which are met with in the pro- 
 gressive career of our civilization 1 We have found at 
 this epoch three societies all different ; first, municipal 
 society, the last remains of the Roman empire ; secondly, 
 Christian society ; and lastly, barbarian society. We find 
 these societies very diflerently organized ; founded upon 
 principles totally opposite ; inspiring men with sentiments 
 altogether different. We find the love of the most abso- 
 lute independence by the side of the most devoted sub- 
 mission ; military patronage by the side of ecclesiastical 
 domination j spiritual power and temporal power every- 
 where together ; the canons of the Church, the learned 
 legislation of the Romans, the almost unwritten customs 
 of the barbarians ; everywhere a mixture or rather co- 
 existence of nations, of languages, of social situations, 
 of manners, of ideas, of impressions, the most diversified. 
 These, I think, afford a sufficient proof of the truth of 
 the general character which I have endeavoured to pic- 
 ture of our civilization. 
 
 There is no denying that we owe to this confusion, this 
 diversity, this tossing and jostling of elements, the slow 
 progress of Europe, the storms by which she has been 
 buffeted, the mise -ies to which ofttimes she has been a 
 prey. But, however dear these have cost us, we must 
 not regard them with unmingled regret. In nations, as 
 well as in individuals, the good fortune to have all the 
 faculties called into action, so as to ensure a full and free 
 
 6 
 
62 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 development of the various powers both of mind and 
 body, is an advantage not too dearly paid for by the 
 labour and pain Avith which it is attended. What we 
 might call the hard fortune of European civilization — the 
 trouble, the toil, it has undergone — the violence it has 
 suffered in its course — have been of infinitely more ser- 
 vice to the progress of humanity than that tranquil, 
 smooth simplicity, in which other civilizations have run 
 their course. I shall now halt. In the rude sketch which 
 I have dra^\^l, I trust you will recognise the general fea- 
 tures of the world such as it appeared upon the fall of 
 the Roman empire, as well as the various elements which 
 conspired and mingled together to give birth to Euro- 
 pean civilization. Henceforward these will move and act 
 under our notice. We shall next put these in motion, 
 and see how they work together. In the next lecture I 
 shall endeavour to show what they became and what they 
 performed in the epoch which is called the Barbarous 
 Period ; that is to say, the period during which the chaos 
 of invasion continued. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 63 
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 OF POLITICAL LEGITIMACY CO-EXISTE^'CE OF ALL THE SYSTEMS 
 
 OF GOVERNMENT IN THE FIFTH CENTURY ATTEMPTS TO RE- 
 ORGANIZE SOCIETY. 
 
 In my last lecture, I brought you to what may be called 
 the porch to the history of modern civilization. I briefly 
 placed before you the primary elements of European 
 civilization, as found when, at the dissolution of the Ro- 
 man empire, it was yet in its cradle. I endeavoured to 
 give you a preliminary sketch of their diversity, their 
 continual struggles with each other, and to show you that 
 no one of them succeeded in obtaining the mastery in 
 our social system ; at least such a mastery as would im- 
 ply the complete subjugation or expulsion of the others. 
 We have seen that these circumstances form the distin- 
 guishing character of European civilization. We will 
 to-day begin the history of its childhood in what is com- 
 monly called the dark or middle age, the age of barbar- 
 ism. It is impossible for us not to be struck, at the first 
 glance at this period, with a fact which seems quite con- 
 tradictory to the statement we have just made. No 
 sooner do we seek for information respecting the opinions 
 that have been formed relative to the ancient condition of 
 modern Europe, than we find that the various elements of 
 our civilization, that is to say, monarchy, theocracy, aris- 
 tocracy, and democracy, each would have us believe that, 
 originally, European society belonged to it alone, and that 
 it has only lost the power it then possessed by the usur- 
 pation of the other elements. Examine all that has been 
 \vritten, all that has been said on this subject, and you 
 
64* GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 will find that every author who has attempted to build up 
 a system which should represent or explain our origin, 
 has asserted the exclusive predominance of one or other 
 of these elements of European civilization. 
 
 First, there is the school of civilians, attached to the 
 feudal system, among whom we may mention Boulain- 
 villiers as the most celebrated, who boldly asserts, that, 
 at the downfall of the Roman empire, it was the conquer- 
 ing nation, forming afterwards the nobility, who alone 
 possessed authority, or right, or power. Society, it is 
 said, was their domain, of which kings and people have 
 since despoiled them; and hence, the aristocratic organi- 
 zation is affirmed to have been in Europe the primitive 
 and genuine form. Next to this school we may place the 
 advocates of monarchy, the Abbe Dubois, for example, 
 who maintains, on the other side, that it was to royalty 
 that European society belonged. According to him, the 
 German kings succeeded to all the rights of the Roman 
 emperors ; they were even invited in by the ancient na- 
 tions, among others by the Gauls and Saxons ; they alone 
 possessed legitimate authority, and all the conquests of 
 the aristocracy were only so many encroachments upon 
 the power of the monarchs. 
 
 The liberals, republicans, or democrats, whichever you 
 may choose to call them, form a third school. Consult 
 the Abbe de Mably. According to this school, the gov- 
 ernment by which society was ruled in the fifth century, 
 was composed of free institutions ; of assemblies of free- 
 men, of the nation properly so called. Kings and nobles 
 enriched themselves by the spoils of this primitive Liber- 
 ty ; it has fallen under their repeated attacks, but it 
 reigned before them. 
 
 Another power, however, claimed the right of governing 
 society, and upon much higher grounds than any of these. 
 Monarchical, aristocratic, and popular pretensions, were 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 65 
 
 all of a worldly nature : the Church of Rome founded her 
 pretensions upon her sacred mission and divine right. By 
 her labours, Europe, she said, had attained the blessings 
 of civilization and truth, and to her alone belonged the 
 right to govern it. 
 
 Here then is a difficulty which meets us at the very 
 outset. We have stated our belief that no one of the ele- 
 ments of European civilization obtained an exclusive mas- 
 tery over it, in the whole course of its history ; that they 
 lived in a constant state of proximity, of amalgamation, 
 of strife, and of compromise ; yet here, at our very first 
 step, we are met by the directly opposite opinion, that one 
 or other of these elements, even in the very infancy of 
 civilization, even in the very heart of barbarian Europe, 
 took entire possession of society. And it is not in one 
 country alone, it is in every nation of Europe, that the 
 various principles of our civilization, under forms a little 
 varied, at epochs a little apart, have displayed these irre- 
 concilable pretensions. The historic schools which I have 
 enumerated-are met with everywhere. 
 
 This fact is important, not in itself, but because it reveals 
 some other facts which make a great figure in our history. 
 By this simultaneous advancement of claims the most op- 
 posed to the exclusive possession of power, in the first 
 stage of modern Europe, two important facts are revealed : 
 first, the principle, the idea of political legitimacy ; an 
 idea which has played a considerable part in the progress 
 of European civilization. The second is the particular, 
 the true character of the state of barbarian Europe 
 during that period, which now more expressly demands 
 attention. 
 
 It is my task, then, to explain these two facts 5 and to 
 show you how they may be fairly deduced from the early 
 struggle of the pretensions which I have just called to 
 your notice, 
 
 6* 
 
66 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Now what do these various elements of our civiliza- 
 tion, — ^^vhat do theocracy, mouarchjr, aristocracy, and de- 
 mocracy aim at, when they each endeavour to make out 
 that it alone was the first which held possession of Euro- 
 pean society 1 Is it any thing beyond the desire of each 
 to establish its sole claim to legitimacy % For what is 
 political legitimacy 1 Evidently nothing more than a 
 right founded upon antiquity, upon duration, which is 
 obvious from the simple fact, that priority of time is 
 pleaded as the source of right, as proof of legitimate 
 power. But, observe again, this claim is not peculiar to 
 one system, to one element of our civilization, but is made 
 alike by all. The political writers of the Continent have 
 been in the habit, for some time past, of regarding legiti- 
 macy as belonging, exclusively, to the monarchical sys- 
 tem. This is an error ; legitimacy may be found in all 
 the systems. It has already been shown that, of the va- 
 rious elements of our civilization, each wished to appro- 
 priate it to itself. But advance a few steps further into 
 the history of Europe, and you will see social forms of 
 government, the most opposed in principles, alike in pos- 
 session of this legitimacy. The Italian and Swiss aris- 
 tocraries and democracies, the little republic of San 
 Marino, as well as the most powerful monarchies, have 
 considered themselves legitimate, and have been acknow- 
 ledged as such ; all founding their claim to this title upon 
 the antiquity of their institutions; upon the historical 
 priority and duration of their particular system of gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 If we leave modern Europe, and turn our attention to 
 other times and to other countries, we shall everywhere 
 find this same notion prevail respecting political legitima- 
 cy. It everywhere attaches itself to some portion of gov- 
 ernment j to some institution ; to some form, or to some 
 maxim. There is no country, no time, in which you may 
 
CIVILIZATION IX MODERN EUROPE. 67 
 
 not discover some portion of the social system, some 
 public authority, that has assumed, and been acknow- 
 ledged to possess, this character of legitimacy, arising 
 from antiquity, prescription, and duration. 
 
 Let us for a moment see what this legitimacy is 1 of 
 what it is composed \ what it requires 1 and how it found 
 its way into European civilization \ 
 
 You will find that all power — I say all, without distinc- 
 tion — owes its existence in the first place partly to force. 
 I do not say that force alone has been, in all cases, the 
 foundation of power, or that this, without any other title, 
 could in every case have been established by force alone. 
 Other claims undoubtedly are requisite. Certain powers 
 become established in consequence of certain social ex- 
 pediencies, of certain relations with the state of society, 
 with its customs or opinions. But it is impossible to 
 close our eyes to th-e fact, that violence has sullied the 
 birth of all the authorities in the world, whatever may 
 have been their nature or their form. 
 
 This origin, however, no one will acknowledge. All 
 authorities, whatever their nature, disclaim it. None of 
 them will allow themselves to be considered as the off- 
 spring of force. Governments are warned by an invin- 
 cible instinct that force is no title — that might is not right 
 — and that, while they rest upon no other foundation than 
 violence, they are entirely destitute of right. Hence, if 
 we go back to some distant period, in which the various 
 systems, the various powers, are found struggling one 
 against the other, we shall hear them each exclaiming, 
 "I existed before you ; my claim is the oldest ; my claim 
 rests upon other grounds than force ; societjr belonged 
 to me before this state of violence, before this strife in 
 which you now find me. I was legitimate j I have been 
 opposed, and my rights have been torn from me." 
 
 This fact alone proves that the idea of violence is not 
 
68 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the foundation of political legitimacy, — that it rests upon 
 some other basis. This disavowal of violence made by 
 every system, proclaims, as plainly as facts can speak, 
 that there is another legitimacy, the true foundation of all 
 the others, the legitimacy of reason, of justice, of right. 
 It is to this origin that they seek to link themselves. As 
 they feel scandalized at the very idea of being the ojET- 
 spring of force, they pretend to be invested, by virtue of 
 their antiquity, with a different title. The first charac- 
 teristic, then, of political legitimacy, is to disclaim vio- 
 lence as the source of authority, and to associate it with 
 a moral notion, a moral force — with the notion of justice, 
 of right, of reason. This is the primary element from 
 which the principle of political legitimacy has sprung 
 forth. It has issued from it, aided by time, aided by pre- 
 scription. Let us see how. 
 
 Violence presides at the birth of governments, at the 
 birth of societies; but time rolls on. He changes the 
 works of violence. He corrects them. He corrects them, 
 simply, because society endures, and because it is com- 
 posed of men. Man bears within himself certain notions 
 of order, of justice, of reason, with a certain desire to 
 bring them into play — he wishes to see them predominate 
 in the sphere in which he moves. For this he labours 
 unceasingly ; and if the social system in which he lives, 
 continues, his labour is not in vain. Man naturally brings 
 reason, morality, and legitimacy into the world in which 
 he liyes. 
 
 Independently of the labour of man, by a special law 
 of Providence which it is impossible to mistake, a law 
 analogous to that which rules the material world, there is 
 a certain degree of order, of intelligence, of justice, indis- 
 pensable to the duration of human society. From the 
 simple fact of its duration we may argue, that a society 
 is not completely irrational, savage, or iniquitous ; that it 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 69 
 
 is not altogether destitute of intelligence, truth, and jus- 
 tice, for without these society cannot hold together. 
 Again, as society develops itself, it becomes stronger, 
 more powerful ; if the social system is continually aug- 
 mented by the increase of individuals who accept and 
 approve its regulations, it is because the action of time 
 gradually introduces into it more right, more intelligence, 
 more justice ', it is because a gradual approximation is 
 made in its affairs to the principles of true legitimacy. 
 
 Thus forces itself into the world, and from the world 
 into the mind of man, the notion of political legitimacy. 
 Its foundation, in the first place, at least to a certain ex- 
 tent, is moral legitimacy — is justice, intelligence, and 
 truth j it next obtains the sanction of time, which gives 
 reason to believe that affairs nre conducted by reason, 
 that the true legitimacy has been introduced. At the 
 epoch which we are about to study, you will find violence 
 and fraud hovering over the cradle of monarchy, aristoc- 
 racy, democracy, and even over the church itself ; you 
 will see this violence and fraud everywhere gradually 
 abated; and justice and truth taking their place in civili- 
 zation. It is this introduction of justice and truth into 
 our social system, that has nourished and gradually ma- 
 tured political legitimacy ; and it is thus that it has taken 
 firm root in modern civilization. 
 
 All those then who have attempted at various times to 
 set up this idea of legitimacy as the foundation of abso- 
 lute power, have wrested it from its true origin. It has 
 nothing to do with absolute power. It is under the name 
 of justice and righteousness that it has made its way into 
 the world and found footing. Neither is it exclusive. It 
 belongs to no party in particular ; it springs up in all 
 systems where truth and justice prevail. Political legiti- 
 macy is as much attached to liberty as to power ; to the 
 rights of individuals as to the forms under which are ex- 
 
70 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 ercised the public functions. As we go on we shall find 
 it, as I said before, in systems the most opposed ; in the 
 feudal system ; in the free cities of Flanders and Ger- 
 many ; in the republics of Italy, as well as in monarchy. 
 It is a quality which appertains to all the divers elements 
 of our civilization, and which it is necessary should be well 
 understood before entering upon its history. 
 
 The second fact revealed to us by that simultaneous 
 advancement of claims, of which I spoke at the beginning 
 of this lecture, is the true character of what is called the 
 period of barbarism. Each of the elements of European 
 civilization pretends, that at this epoch Europe belonged 
 to it alone ; hence we may conclude that it really be- 
 longed to no one of them. When any particular kind of 
 government prevails in the world, there is no difficulty in 
 recognising it. When we come to the tenth century, we 
 acknowledge, without hesitation, the preponderance of 
 feudalism. At the seventeenth we have no hesitation in 
 asserting, that the monarchical principle prevails. If we 
 turn our eyes to the free communities of Flanders, to the 
 republics of Italy, we confess at once the predominance 
 of democracy. Whenever, indeed, any one principle re- 
 ally bears sway in society, it cannot be mistaken. 
 
 The dispute, then, that has arisen among the various 
 systems which hold a part in European civilization, re- 
 specting which bore chief sway at its origin, proves that 
 they all existed there together, without any one of them 
 having prevailed so generally as to give to society its 
 form or its name. 
 
 This is, indeed, the character of the dark age : it was a 
 chaos of all the elements ; the childhood of all the sys- 
 tems; a universal jumble, in Avhich even strife itself was 
 neither permanent nor systematic. By an examination of 
 the social system of this period under its various forms, 
 I could show you that in no part of them is there to be 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 71 
 
 found anything like a general principle, anything like sta- 
 bility. I shall, however, confine myself to two essential 
 particulars — the state of persons, the state of institutions. 
 This will be sufficient to give a general picture of society. 
 
 We find at this time four classes of persons : 1st. Free- 
 men, that is to say, men who, depending upon no supe- 
 rior, upon no patron, held their property and life in full 
 liberty, without being fettered by any obligation towards 
 another individual. 2d. The Luedes, Fidel es, Antrus- 
 tions^ &c., who wxre connected at first by the relationship 
 of companion and chief, and afterwards by that of vassal 
 and lord, towards another individual to whom they owed 
 fealty and service, in consequence of a grant of lands, or 
 some other gifts. 3d. Freedmen. 4th. Slaves. 
 
 But were these various classes fixed ] Were men once 
 placed in a certain rank bound to it ] Were the relations, 
 in which the different classes stood towards each other, 
 regular or permanent 1 Not at all. Freemen were con- 
 tinually changing their condition, and becoming vassals 
 to nobles, in consideration of some gift which these might 
 have to bestow; w^hile others were falling into the class 
 of slaves or serfs. Vassals were continually struggling to 
 shake off the yoke of patronage, to regain their indepen- 
 dence, to return to the class of freemen. Every part of 
 society was in motion. There was a continual passing and 
 repassing from one class to the other. No man contin- 
 ued long in the same rank ; no rank continued long the 
 same. 
 
 Property was in much the same state. I need scarcely 
 tell you, that possessions were distinguished into allodial^ 
 or entirely free, and beneficiary^ or such as w^ere held by 
 tenure, wdth certain obligations to be discharged towards 
 a superior. Some writers attempt to trace out a regular 
 and established system with respect to the latter class of 
 proprietors, and lay it down as a rule that benefices were 
 
72 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 at first bestowed for a determinate number of years ; that 
 they were afterwards granted for life ; and finally, at a 
 later period, became hereditary. The attempt is vain. 
 Lands were held in all these various ways at the same 
 time, and in the same places. Benefices for a term of 
 years, benefices for life, hereditary benefices, are found in 
 the same period ; even the same lands, within a few years, 
 passed through these different states. There was noth- 
 ing more settled, nothing more general, in the state of lands 
 than in the state of persons. Every thing shows the diffi- 
 culties of the transition from the wandering life to the 
 settled life ; from the simple personal relations which ex- 
 isted among the barbarians as invading migratory hordes, 
 to the mixed relations of persons and property. During 
 this transition all was confused, local, and disordered. 
 
 In institutions we observe the same unfixedness, the 
 same chaos. We find here three different systems at 
 once before us : — 1st. Monarchy ; 2d. Aristocracy, or the 
 proprietorship of men and lands, as lord and vassal j and, 
 3dly. Free institutions, or assemblies of free men delibe- 
 rating in common. No one of these systems entirely 
 prevailed. Free institutions existed ; but the men who 
 should have formed part of these assemblies seldom trou- 
 bled themselves to attend them. Baronial jurisdiction 
 was not more regularly exercised. Monarchy, the most 
 simple institution, the most easy to determine, here had 
 no fixed character 5 at one time it was elective, at another 
 hereditary — here the son succeeded to his father, there 
 the election was confined to a family ; in another place it 
 was open to all, purely elective, and the choice fell on a 
 distant relation, or perhaps a stranger. In none of these 
 systems can we discover anything fixed ; all the institu- 
 tions, as well as the social conditions, dwelt together, 
 continually confounded, continually changing. 
 
 The same unsettledness existed with regard to states j 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 73 
 
 they were created, suppressed, united, and divided ; no 
 governments, no frontiers, no nations j a general jumble 
 of situations, principles, events, races, languages : such 
 was barbarian Europe. 
 
 Let us now fix the limits of this extraordinary period. 
 Its origin is strongly defined ; it began with the fall of the 
 Roman empire. But where did it close 1 To settle this 
 question, we must find out the cause of this state of so- 
 ciety ; we must see what were the causes of barbarism. 
 
 I think I can point out two : — one material, arising from 
 exterior circumstances, from the course of events ; the 
 other, moral, arising from the mind, from the intellects of 
 man. 
 
 The material, or outward cause, was the continuance of 
 invasion ; for it must not be supposed that the invasions 
 of the barbarian hordes stopped all at once, in the fifth 
 century. Do not believe that because the Roman empire 
 was fallen, and kingdoms of barbarians founded upon its 
 ruins, that the movement of nations was over. There are 
 plenty of facts to prove that this was not the case, and 
 that this movement lasted a long time after the destruc- 
 tion of the empire. 
 
 If we look to the Franks, or French, we shall find even 
 the first race of kings continually carrying on wars be- 
 yond the Rhine. We see Clotaire, Dagobert, making 
 expedition after expedition into Germany, and engaged 
 in a constant struggle with the Thuringians, the Danes, 
 and the Saxons who occupied the right bank of that river. 
 And why was this but because these nations wished to 
 cross the Rhine and get a share in the spoils of the em- 
 pire ] How came it to pass that the Franks, established 
 in Gaul, and principally the Eastern, or Austrasian Franks, 
 much about the same time, threw themselves in such 
 large bodies upon Switzerland, and invaded Italy by cross- 
 ing the Alps 1 It was because they were pushed forward 
 
 7 
 
T4j general history of 
 
 by new populations from the north-east. These invasions 
 were not mere pillaging inroads, they were not expedi- 
 tions undertaken for the purpose of plunder, they were 
 the result of necessity. The people, disturbed in their 
 own settlements, pressed forward to better their fortune 
 and find new abodes elsewhere. A new German nation 
 entered upon the arena, and founded the powerful king- 
 dom of the Lombards in Italy. In Gaul, or France, the 
 Merovinginian dynasty gav^e way to the Carlovingian j a 
 change which is now generally acknowledged to have 
 been, properly speaking, a new irruption of Franks into 
 Gaul — a movement of nations, which substituted the Eas- 
 tern Franks for the Western. Under the second race of 
 kings, we find Charlemagne playing the same part against 
 the Saxons, which the Merovinginian princes played 
 against the Thuringians : he carried on an unceasing war 
 against the nations beyond the Rhine, who were precipi- 
 tated upon the west by the Wiltzians, the Swabians, the 
 Bohemians, and the various tribes of Slavonians, who trod 
 on the heels of the German race. Throughout, the north- 
 east emigrations were going on and changing the face of 
 affairs. 
 
 In the south, a movement of the same nature took 
 place. While the German and Slavonian tribes pressed 
 along the Rhine and Danube, the Saracens began to ravage 
 and conquer the various coasts of the Mediterranean. 
 
 The invasion of the Saracens, however, had a charac- 
 ter peculiarly its own. In them the spirit of conquest 
 was united with the spirit of proselytism j the sword was 
 drawn as well for the promulgation of a faith as the ac- 
 quisition of territory. There is a vast difference between 
 their invasion and that of the Germans. In the Chris- 
 tian world spiritual force and temporal force were quite 
 distinct. The zeal for the propagation of a faith 
 and the lust of conquest are not inmates of the same 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 75 
 
 bosom. The Germans, after their conversion, preserved 
 the same manners, the same sentiments, the same tastes, 
 as before ; they were still guided by passions and interests 
 of a worldly nature. They had become Christians, but 
 not missionaries. The Saracens, on the contrary, were 
 both conquerors and missionaries. The power of the 
 Koran and of the sword was in the same hands. And it 
 was this peculiarity which, I think, gave to Mohammedan 
 civilization the wretched character which it bears. It 
 was in this union of the temporal and spiritual powers, 
 and the confusion which it created between moral autho- 
 rity and physical force, that that tyranny was born which 
 seems inherent in their civilization. This I believe to be 
 the principal cause of that stationary state into which it 
 has everywhere fallen. This effect, however, did not 
 show itself upon the first rise of Mohammedanism ; the 
 union, on the contrary, of military ardour and religious 
 zeal, gave to the Saracen invasion a prodigious power. 
 Its ideas and moral passions had at once a brilliancy and 
 splendour altogether wanting in the Germanic invasions ; 
 it displayed itself with more energy and enthusiasm, and 
 had a correspondent effect upon the minds and passions 
 of men. 
 
 Such was the situation of Europe from the fifth to the 
 ninth century. . Pressed on the south by the Mohamme- 
 dans, and on the north by the Germans and Slavonians, 
 it could not be otherwise than that the reaction of this 
 double invasion should keep the interior of Europe in a 
 state of continual ferment. Populations were incessantly 
 displaced, crowded one upon another ; there was no regu- 
 larity, nothing permanent or fixed. Some differences 
 undoubtedly prevailed between the various nations. The 
 chaos was more general in Germany than in the other 
 parts of Europe. Here was the focus of movement. 
 France was more agitated than Italy. But nowhere 
 
76 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 could society become settled and regulated j barbarism 
 everywhere continued, and from the same cause that 
 introduced it. 
 
 Thus much for the material cause depending upon the 
 course of events ; let us now look to the moral cause, 
 founded on the intellectual condition of man, which, it 
 must be acknowledged, was not less powerful. 
 
 For, certainly, after all is said and done, whatever may 
 be the course of external affairs, it is man himself who 
 makes our world. It is according to the ideas, the senti- 
 ments, the moral and intellectual dispositions of man him- 
 self, that the world is regulated, and marches onward. It 
 is upon the intellectual state of man that the visible form 
 of society depends. 
 
 Now let us consider for a moment what is required 
 to enable men to form themselves into a society some- 
 what durable, somewhat regular 1 It is evidently neces- 
 sary, in the first place, that they should have a certain 
 number of ideas sufficiently enlarged to settle upon the 
 terms by which this society should be formed ; to apply 
 themselves to its wants, to its relations. In the second 
 place, it is necessary that these ideas should be common 
 to the greater part of the members of the society ; and 
 finally, that they should put some constraint upon their 
 owTi inclinations and actions. 
 
 It is clear that Avhere men possess no ideas extending 
 beyond their own existence, where their intellectual hori- 
 zon is bounded in self, that if they are still delivered up 
 to their owai passions, and their own wills, — if they have 
 not among them a certain number of notions and senti- 
 ments common to them all, round which they may all 
 rally, it is clear that they cannot form a society : without 
 this each individual will be a principle of agitation and 
 dissolution in the social system of which he forms a 
 part. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 77 
 
 Wherever individualism reigns nearly absolute, wherev- 
 er man considers but himself, wherever his ideas extend 
 not beyond himself, wherever he only yields obedience to 
 his own passions, there society — that is to say, society in 
 any degree extended or permanent — becomes almost im- 
 possible. Now this was just the moral state of the con- 
 querors of Europe at the epoch which engages our atten- 
 tion. I remarked, in the last lecture, that we owe to the 
 Germans the powerful sentiment of personal liberty, of 
 human individualism. Now, in a state of extreme rude- 
 ness and ignorance, this sentiment is mere selfishness, in 
 all its brutality, with all its unsociability. Such w^as its 
 character from the fifth to the eighth century, among the 
 Germans. They cared for nothing beyond their own 
 interest, for nothing beyond the gratification of their ow^n 
 passions, their o\\ti inclinations j how, then, could they 
 accommodate themselves, in any tolerable degree, to the 
 social condition 1 The attempt was made to bring them 
 into it ; they endeavoured of themselves to enter into it j 
 but an act of improvidence, a burst of passion, a lack of 
 intelligence, soon threw^ them back to their old position. 
 At every instant we see attempts made to form man into 
 a social state, and at every instant we see them over- 
 thro^Am by the failings of man, by the absence of the mo- 
 ral conditions necessary to its existence. 
 
 Such were the two causes which kept our forefathers in 
 a state of barbarism j so long as these continued, so long 
 barbarism endured. Let us see if we can discover when 
 and from what causes it at last ceased. 
 
 Europe laboured to emerge from this state. It is con- 
 trary to the nature of man, even when sunk into it by his 
 own fault, to wish to remain in it. However rude, how- 
 ever ignorant, however selfish, however headstrong, there 
 is yet in him a still small voice, an instinct, which tells 
 
 him he was made for something better ; — that he has an- 
 
 7# 
 
78 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 Other and higher destiny. In the midst of confusion and 
 disorder, he is haunted and tormented by a taste for order 
 and improvement. The claims of justice, of prudence, of 
 development, disturb him, even under the yoke of the most 
 brutish egotism. He feels himself impelled to improve 
 the material world, society and himself 5 he labours to do 
 this, without attempting to account to himself for the want 
 which urges him to the task. The barbarians aspired to 
 civilization, while they were yet incapable of it — nay, 
 more — ^^vhile they even detested it whenever its laws re- 
 strained their selfish desires. 
 
 There still remained, too, a considerable number of 
 wrecks and fragments of Roman civilization. The name 
 of the empire, the remembrance of that great and glorious 
 society still dwelt in the memory of many, and especially 
 among the senators of cities, bishops, priests, and all 
 those who could trace their origin to the Roman world. 
 
 Among the barbarians themselves, or their barbarian 
 ancestors, many had witnessed the greatness of the Roman 
 empire: they had served in its armies: they had con- 
 quered it. The image, the name of Roman civilization 
 dazzled them ; they felt a desire to imitate it : to bring it 
 back again, to preserve some portion of it. This was an- 
 other cause which ought to have forced them out of the 
 state of barbarism, which I have described. 
 
 A third cause, and one which readily presents itself to 
 every one, was the Christian Church. The Christian Church 
 was a regularly constituted society ; having its maxims, 
 its rules, its discipline, together with an ardent desire to 
 extend its influence, to conquer its conquerors. Among 
 the Christians of this period, in the catholic clergy, there 
 were men of profound and varied learning ; men who had 
 thought deeply, who were versed in ethics and politics ; 
 who had formed definite opinions and vigorous notions, 
 upon all subjects 5 who felt a praiseworthy zeal to propa- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 79 
 
 gate information, and to advance the cause of learning. 
 No society ever made greater efforts than the Christian 
 Church did from the fifth to the tenth century, to influ- 
 ence the world around it, and to assimilate it to itself. 
 When its history -shall become the particular object of 
 our examination, we shall more clearly see what it attempt- 
 ed — it attacked, in a manner, barbarism at every point, in 
 order to civilize it and rule over it. 
 
 Finally, a fourth cause of the progress of civilization, a 
 cruise which it is impossible strictly to appreciate, but 
 which is not therefore the less real, was the appearance 
 of great men. To say why a great man appears on the 
 stage at a certain epoch, or w^hat of his OAvn individual de- 
 velopment he imparts to the world at large, is beyond our 
 power ; it is the secret of Providence ; but the fact is 
 still certain. There are men to whom the spectacle of 
 society, in a state of anarchy or immobility, is revolting 
 and almost unbearable ; it occasions them an intellectual 
 shudder, as a thing that should not be j they feel an un- 
 conquerable desire to change it ; to restore order 5 to in- 
 troduce something general, regular and permanent, into 
 the world which is placed before them. Tremendous 
 power ! often tyrannical, committing a thousand iniqui- 
 ties, a thousand errors, for human weakness accompanies 
 it. Glorious and salutary power ! nevertheless, for it 
 gives to humanity, and by the hand of man, a new and 
 powerful impulse. 
 
 These various causes, these various powers working to- 
 gether, led to several attempts, between the fifth and ninth 
 centuries, to draw European society from the barbarous 
 state into which it had fallen. 
 
 The first of these was the compilation of the barbarian 
 laws ; an attempt which, though it effected but little, we 
 cannot pass over, because it was made by the barbarians 
 themselves. Between the sixth and eighth centuries, the 
 
80 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 laws of nearly all the barbarous nations, (which however 
 were nothing more than the rude customs by which they 
 had been regulated, before their invasion of the Roman 
 empire,) were reduced to writing. Of these there are enu- 
 merated the codes of the Burgundians, the Salii, and Ri- 
 puarian Franks, the Visigoths, the Lombards, the Saxons, 
 the Prisons, the Bavarians, the Germans, and some others. 
 This was evidently a commencement of civilization — an 
 attempt to bring society under the authority of general 
 and fixed principles. Much however could not be ex- 
 pected from it. It published the laws of a society which 
 no longer existed ; the laws of the social system of the 
 barbarians before their establishment in the Roman terri- 
 tory — before they had changed their wandering life for a 
 settled one ; before the nomad warriors became lost in 
 the landed proprietors. It is true, that here and there 
 may be found an article respecting the lands conquered 
 by the barbarians, or respecting their relations with the 
 ancient inhabitants of the country ; some few bold attempts 
 w^ere made to regulate the new circumstances in which 
 they were placed. But the far greater part of these laws 
 were taken up with their ancient life, their ancient condi- 
 tion in Germany, were totally inapplicable to the new 
 state of society, and had but a small share in its advance- 
 ment. 
 
 In Italy and the south of Gaul, another attempt of a 
 different character was made about this time. In these 
 places Roman society had not been so completely rooted 
 out as elsewhere ', in the cities, especially, there still 
 remained something of order and civil life ; and in these 
 civilization seemed to make a stand. If we look, for ex- 
 ample, at the kingdom of the Ostrogoths in Italy under 
 Theodoric, we shall see, even under the dominion of a 
 barbarous nation and king, the municipal form taking 
 breath, as it were, and exercising a considerable influence 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 81 
 
 upon the general tide of events. Here Roman manners 
 had modified the Gothic, and brought them in a great 
 degree to assume a likeness to their own. The same 
 thing took place in the south of Gaul. At the opening 
 of the sixth century Alaric, a Visigothic king of Tou- 
 louse, caused a collection of the Roman laws to be made, 
 and published under the name of Breviarum Aniani^ a 
 code for his Roman subjects. 
 
 In Spain, a different power, that of the Church, endea- 
 voured to restore the work of civilization. Instead of 
 the ancient German assemblies of warriors, the assembly 
 that had most influence in Spain was the council of To- 
 ledo ; and in this council the bishops bore sway, although 
 it was attended by the higher order of the laity. Open 
 the laws of the Visigoths, and you will discover that it is 
 not a code compiled by barbarians, but bears convincing 
 marks of having been drawn up by the philosophers of 
 the age — ^by the clergy. It abounds in general views, in 
 theories, and in theories, indeed, altogether foreign to 
 barbarian manners. Thus, for example, we know that the 
 legislation of the barbarians was a personal legislation ; 
 that is to say, the same law only applied to one particular 
 race of men. The Romans were judged by the old Ro- 
 man laws, the Franks were judged by the Salian or Ripu- 
 arian code ; in short, each people had its separate laws, 
 though united under the same government, and dwelling 
 together in the same territory. This is what is called 
 personal legislation, in contradistinction to real legisla- 
 tion, which is founded upon territory. Now this is ex- 
 actly the case with the legislation of the Visigoths ; it is 
 not personal, but territorial. All the inhabitants of Spain, 
 Romans, Visigoths, or what not, were compelled to yield 
 obedience to one law. Read a little further, and you 
 will meet with still more striking traces of philosophy. 
 Among the barbarians a fixed price was put upon man, 
 
82 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 according to his rank in society — the Hfe of the barba- 
 rian, the Roman, the freeman, and vassal, were not valued 
 at the same amount — there was a graduated scale of 
 prices. But the principle that all men's lives are of equal 
 worth in the eyes of the law, was established by the code 
 of the Visigoths. The same superiority is observable in 
 their judicial proceedings : — instead of the ordeal, the 
 oath of compurgators, or trial by battle, you will find the 
 proofs established by witnesses, and a rational examina- 
 tion made of the fact, such as might take place in a civil- 
 ized society. In short, the code of the Visigoths bore 
 throughout evident marks of learning, system, and polity. 
 In it we trace the hand of the same clergy that acted in 
 the council of Toledo, and which exercised so large and 
 beneficial an influence upon the government of the coun- 
 
 In Spain then, up to the time of the great invasion of 
 the Saracens, it was the hierarchy which made the great- 
 est efforts to advance civilization. 
 
 In France, the attempt was made by another power. It 
 was the work of great men, and above all of Charle- 
 magne. Examine his reign under its different aspects ; 
 and you will see that the darling object of his life was to 
 civilize the nations he governed. Let us regard him first 
 as a warrior. He was always in the field ; from the south 
 to the north-east, from the Ebro to the Elbe and Weser. 
 Perhaps you imagine that these expeditions were the 
 effect of choice, and sprang from a pure love of con- 
 quest 1 No such thing. I will not assert that he pursued 
 any very regular system, or that there was much diplo- 
 macy or strategy in his plans ; but what he did sprang 
 from necessity, and a desire to repress barbarism. From 
 the beginning to the end of his reign he was occupied in 
 staying the progress of a double invasion — that of the 
 Mohammedans in the south, and that of the Germanic and 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 83 
 
 Slavonic tribes in the north. This is what gave the reign 
 of Charlemagne its military cast. I have already said 
 that his expeditions against the Saxons were undertaken 
 for the same purpose. If we pass on from his wars to 
 his government, we shall find the case much the same : 
 his leading object was to introduce order and unity in 
 every part of his extensive dominions. I have not said 
 kingdom or state, because these words are too precise in 
 their signification, and call up ideas which bear but little 
 relation to the society of which Charlemagne stood at the 
 head. Thus much, however, seems certain, that when he 
 found himself master of this vast territory, it mortified 
 and grieved him to see all within it so precarious and 
 unsettled — to see anarchy and brutality everywhere pre- 
 vailing, — and it was the first wish of his heart to better 
 this wretched condition of society. He endeavoured to 
 do this at first by his missi regii, whom he sent into every 
 part of his dominions to find out and correct abuses j to 
 amend the mal-administration of justice, and to render 
 him an account of all that was wrong; and afterwards by 
 the general assemblies or parliaments as they have been 
 called of the Champ de Mars, which he held more regu- 
 larly than any of his predecessors. These assemblies he 
 made nearly every considerable person in his dominions 
 to attend. They were not assemblies formed for the 
 preservation of the liberty of the subject, there was no- 
 thing in them bearing any likeness to the deliberations of 
 our own days. But Charlemagne found them a means 
 by which he could become u^ell informed of facts and 
 circumstances, and by which he could introduce some 
 regulation, some unity, into the restless and disorganized 
 populations he had to govern. 
 
 In whatever point of view, indeed, we regard the reign 
 of Charlemagne, we always find its leading characteristic 
 to be a desire to overcome barbarism, and to advance 
 
84 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 civilization. We see this conspicuously in his founda- 
 tion of schools, in his collecting of libraries, in his gath- 
 ering about him the learned of all countries ; in the favour 
 he showed towards the influence of the church, for every 
 thing, in a word, which seemed likely to operate benefi- 
 cially upon society in general, or the individual man. 
 
 An attempt of the same nature was made very soon 
 afterwards in England, by Alfred the Great. 
 
 These are some of the means which were in operation, 
 from the fifth to the ninth century, in various parts of 
 Europe, which seemed likely to put an end to barbarism. 
 
 None of them succeeded. Charlemagne was unable to 
 establish his great empire, and the system of government 
 by which he wished to rule it. The church succeeded no 
 better in its attempt in Spain to found a system of theo- 
 cracy. And though in Italy and the south of France, 
 Roman civilization made several attempts to raise its 
 head, it was not till a later period, till towards the end of 
 the tenth century, that it in reality acquired any vigour. 
 Up to this time, every effort to put an end to barbarism 
 failed : they supposed men more advanced than they in 
 reality were. They all desired, under various forms, to 
 establish a society more extensive, or better regulated, 
 than the spirit of the age was prepared for. The attempts, 
 however, were not lost to mankind. At the commence- 
 ment of the tenth century, there was no longer any visi- 
 ble appearance of the great empire of Charlemagne, nor 
 of the glorious councils of Toledo, but barbarism was 
 drawing nigh its end. Two great results were obtained : 
 
 1. The movement of the invading hordes had been 
 stopped both in the north and in the south. Upon the 
 dismemberment of the empire of Charlemagne, the states, 
 which became formed upon the right bank of the Rhine, 
 opposed an effectual barrier to the tribes which advanced 
 from the west. The Danes and Normans are an incon- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 85 
 
 testable proof of this. Up to this time, if we except the 
 Saxon attacks upon England, the invasions of the Ger- 
 man tribes by sea had not been very considerable ; but in 
 the course of the ninth century they became constant and 
 general. And this happened, because invasions by land 
 had become exceedingly difficult ; society had acquired, 
 on this side, frontiers more fixed and secure ; and that 
 portion of the wandering nations, which could not be 
 pressed back, were at least turned from their ancient 
 course, and compelled to proceed by sea. Great as un- 
 doubtedly was the misery occasioned to the west of Eu- 
 rope by the incursions of these pirates and marauders, 
 they still were much less hurtful than the invasions by 
 land, and disturbed much less generally the newly-form- 
 ing society. In the south, the case was much the same. 
 The Arabs had settled in Spain ; and the struggle between 
 them and the Christians still continued ; but this occa- 
 sioned no new emigration of nations. Bands of Saracens 
 still, from time to time, infested the coasts of the Medi- 
 terranean, but the great career of Islamism was arrested. 
 2. In the interior of Europe we begin at this time to 
 see the wandering life decline ; populations became fixed ; 
 estates and landed possessions became settled ; the rela- 
 tions between man and man no longer varied from day to 
 day under the the influence of force or chance. The inte- 
 rior and moral condition of man himself began to undergo 
 a change ; his ideas, his sentiments, began like his life to 
 assume a more fixed character. He began to feel an at- 
 tachment to the place in which he dwelt j to the connec- 
 tions and associations which he there formed ; to those 
 domains which he now calculated upon lea^'ing to his 
 children ; to that dwelling which hereafter became his 
 castle ; to that miserable assemblage of serfs and slaves, 
 which was one day to become a village. Little societies 
 everyvvhere began to be formed j little states to be cut 
 8 
 
86 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 out according to the measure, if I may so say, of the 
 capacities and prudence of men. There, societies gradu- 
 ally became connected by a tie, the origin of which is to 
 be found in the manners of the German barbarians : the 
 tie of a confederation which would not destroy individual 
 freedom. On one side we find every considerable pro- 
 prietor settling himself in his domains, surrounded only 
 by his family and retainers ; on the other, a certain gra- 
 duated subordination of services and rights, existing 
 among all these military proprietors scattered over the 
 land. Here we have the feudal system oozing at last out 
 of the bosom of barbarism. Of the various elements of 
 our civilizations, it was natural enough that the Germanic 
 element should first prevail. It was already in possession 
 of power ; it had conquered Europe : from it European 
 civilization was to receive its first form — its first social 
 organization. 
 
 The character of this form — the character of feudal- 
 ism, and the influence it has exercised upon European 
 civilization — will be the object of my next lecture ; while 
 in the very bosom of this system, in its meridian, we 
 shall, at every step, meet with the other elements of our 
 own social system, monarchy, the church, and the commu- 
 nities or free cities. We shall feel pre-assured that these 
 were not destined to fall under this feudal form, to which 
 they adapted themselves while struggling against it ; and 
 that we may look forward to the hour when victory will 
 declare itself for them in their turn. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 87 
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. 
 
 I HAVE thus far endeavoured to give you a view of the 
 state of Europe upon the fall of the Roman empire ; of 
 its state in the first period of modern history — in the 
 period of barbarism. We have seen that at the end of 
 the period, towards the beginning of the tenth century, 
 the first principle, the first system, which took possession 
 of European society, was the feudal system — that out of 
 the very bosom of barbarism sprung feudalism. The 
 investigation of this system will be the subject of the 
 present lecture. 
 
 I need scarcely remind you that it is not the history of 
 events, properly so called, that we propose to consider. 
 I shall not here recount the destinies of the feudal system. 
 The subject which engages our attention is the history of 
 civilization ; it is that general, hidden fact which we have 
 to seek for, out of all the exterior facts in which its exist- 
 ence is contained. 
 
 Thus the events, the social crisises, the various states 
 through which society has passed, ?AiT^a no way interest 
 us, except so far as they are c connected with the growth of 
 civilization ; we have only to learn from them how they 
 have retarded or forwarded this great work ; what they 
 have given it, and what they have withheld from it. It is 
 only in this point of view that we shall consider the feudal 
 system. 
 
 In the first of these lectures we settled what civiliza- 
 tion was ; we endeavoured to discover its elements; we 
 Baw that it consisted, on one side, in the develojment of 
 
88 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 man himself, of the individual, of humanity ; on the other, 
 of his outward or social condition. When then we come 
 to any event, to any system, to any general condition of 
 society, we have this twofold question to put to it, What 
 has it done for or against the development of man — for or 
 against the development of society 1 It will, however, 
 be at once seen that, in the investigation we have under- 
 taken, it will be impossible for us not to come in contact 
 with some of the grandest questions in moral philosophy. 
 When we would, for example, know in what an event, a 
 system, has contributed to the progress of man, and of 
 society, it is necessary that we should know what is the 
 true development of society and of man ; and be enabled 
 to detect those developments which are deceitful, illegiti- 
 mate, — which pervert instead of meliorate, — which cause 
 them to retrograde instead of to advance. We shall not 
 attempt to elude this task. By so doing we should muti- 
 late and weaken our ideas as well as the facts themselves. 
 Besides, the present state of the world, the spirit of the 
 age, compels us at once frankly to welcome this inevitable 
 alliance of philosophy and history. 
 
 This indeed forms a striking, perhaps the essential, char- 
 acteristic of the present times. We are now compelled to 
 consider — science and reality — theory and practice — right 
 and fact — and to make them move side by side. Down to 
 the present time tiic^^^two powers have lived apart. The 
 world has been accustomedjto see theory and practice fol- 
 lowing two different routes, unknown to each other, or at 
 least never meeting. When doctrines, when general ideas, 
 have wished to intermeddle in affairs, to influence the 
 world, it has only been able to effect this under the appear- 
 ance and by the aid of fanaticism. Up to the present time the 
 government of human societies, the direction of their af- 
 fairs, have been divided between two sorts of influences ; on 
 one side theorists, men who would rule all according to ab- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 89 
 
 stract notions — enthusiasts ; on the other, men ignorant of 
 all rational principle, — experimentalists whose only guide 
 is expediency. This state of things is now over. The world 
 Avill no longer agitate for the sake of some abstract prin- 
 ciple, some fanciful theory — some Utopian government, 
 which can only exist in the imagination of an enthusiast ; 
 nor wnll it put up with practical abuses and oppressions, 
 however favoured by prescription and expediency, where 
 they are opposed to the just principles and the legitimate 
 end of government. To ensure respect, to obtain confi- 
 dence, governing powers must now unite theory and prac- 
 tice ; they must know and acknowledge the influence of 
 both. They must regard as w^ell principles as facts ; must 
 respect both truth and necessity — must shun, on one hand, 
 the blind pride of the fanatic theorist, and, on the other, 
 the no less blind pride of the libertine practician. To 
 this better state of things we have been brought by the 
 progress of the human mind and the progress of society. 
 On one side the human mind is so elevated and enlarged 
 that it is able to view at once, as a w^hole, the subject or 
 fact which comes under its notice, with all the various cir- 
 cumstances and principles which affect it — these it calcu- 
 lates and combines — it so opposes, mixes, and arranges 
 them — that w^hile the everlasting principle is placed boldly 
 and prominently forward so as not to be mistaken, care is 
 taken that it shall not be endange^rsd'j-fthat its progress 
 shall not be retarded by a neqligent or rash estimate of 
 the circumstances which oppose it. On the other side, 
 social systems are so improved as no longer to shrink 
 from the light of truth j so improved, that facts may be 
 brought to the test of science — practice may be placed 
 by the side of theory, and, notwithstanding its many im- 
 perfections, the comparison will excite in us neither dis- 
 couragement nor disgust. 
 
 I shall give way, then, freely to this natural tendency — 
 to this spirit of the age, by passing continually from the 
 
90 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 investigation of circumstances to the investigation of 
 ideas — from an exposition of facts to the consideration of 
 doctrines. Perhaps there is, in the present disposition of 
 the public, another reason in favour of this method. For 
 some time past there has existed among us a decided taste, 
 a sort of predilection for facts, for looking at things in a 
 practical point of view. We have been so much a prey 
 to the despotism of abstract ideas, of theories, — thej^^ have, 
 in some respects, cost us so dear, that we now regard 
 them with a degree of distrust. We like better to refer 
 to facts, to particular circumstances, and to judge and act 
 accordingly. Let us not complain of this. It is a new 
 advance — it is a grand step in knowledge, and towards 
 the empire of truth ; provided, however, we do not suffer 
 ourselves to be carried too far by this disposition — pro- 
 vided that we do not forget that truth alone has a right to 
 reign in the world ; that facts have no merit but in pro- 
 portion as they bear its stamp, and assimilate themselves 
 more and more to its image ; that all true grandeur pro- 
 ceeds from mind ; that all expansion belongs to it. The 
 civilization of France possesses this peculiar character ; 
 it has never been wanting in intellectual grandeur. It has 
 always been rich in ideas. The power of mind has been 
 great in French society — greater, perhaps, than anywhere 
 else. It must not lose this happy privilege — it must not 
 fall into that lot>* cf , that somewhat material condition 
 which prevails in other secieties. Intelligence, theories, 
 must still maintain in France the same rank which they 
 have hitherto occupied. 
 
 I shall not then attempt to shun these general and philo- 
 sophical questions : I will not go out of my way to seek 
 them, but when circumstances bring them naturally before 
 me, I shall attack them without hesitation or embarrass- 
 ment. This will be the case more than once in consider- 
 ing the feudal system as connected with the history of 
 European civilization. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 91 
 
 A great proof that in the tenth century the feudal sys- 
 tem was necessary, and the only social system practicable, 
 is the universality of its adoption. Wherever barbarism 
 ceased, feudalism became general. This at first struck 
 men as the triumph of chaos. All unity, all general civi- 
 lization seemed gone ; society on all sides seemed dis- 
 membered ; a multitude of petty, obscure, isolated, inco- 
 herent societies arose. This appeared to those who lived 
 and saw it, universal anarchy — the dissolution of all things. 
 Consult the poets and historians of the day : they all be- 
 lieved that the end of the world was at hand. Yet this was, 
 in truth, a new and real social system v/hich was forming : 
 feudal society was so necessary, so inevitable, so alto- 
 gether the only consequence that could flow from the pre- 
 vious state of things, that all entered into it, all adopted 
 its form. Even elements the most foreign to this system, 
 the church, the free communities, royalty, all were con- 
 strained to accommodate themselves to it. Churches be- 
 came sovereigns and vassals ; cities became lords and 
 vassals 5 royalty was hidden under the feudal suzerain. 
 All things were given in fief, not only estates, but rights 
 and privileges : the right to cut wood in the forests, the 
 privilege of fishing. The churches gave their surplice- 
 fees in fief: the revenues of baptism — the fees for church- 
 ing women. In the same manner, too, that all the great 
 elements of society were drawn Ayitbi-vi the feudal enclo- 
 sure, so even the smallest por.tions, the most trifling cir- 
 cumstances of common life, became subject to feudalism. 
 
 In obsierving the feudal system thus taking possession 
 of every part of society, one might be apt, at first, to 
 believe that the essential, vital principle of feudalism 
 everywhere prevailed. This would be a grand mistake. 
 Although they put on the feudal form, yet tl^e institutions, 
 the elements of society which were not analagous to the 
 feudal system, did not lose their nature, the principles by 
 
^92 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 which they were distinguished. The feudal church, for 
 example, never ceased for a moment to be animated and 
 governed at bottom by the principles of theocracy, and 
 she never for a moment relaxed her endeavours to gain for 
 this the predominancy. Now she leagued with royalty, 
 now with the pope, and now with the people, to destroy 
 this system, whose livery, for the time, she was compelled 
 to put on. It was the same with royalty and the free 
 cities : in one the principle of monarchy, in the others the 
 principle cJf democracy, continued fundamentally to pre- 
 vail : and, notwithstanding their feudal appearance, these 
 various elements of European society constantly laboured 
 to deliver themselves from a form so foreign to their na- 
 ture, and to put on that which corresponded with their 
 true and vital principle. 
 
 Though perfectly satisfied, therefore, of the universality 
 of the feudal /o;ot, we must take care not to conclude on 
 that account, that the feudal principle was equally univer- 
 sal. We must be no less cautious not to take our ideas 
 of feudalism indifferently from every object which bears 
 its physiognomy. In order to know and understand this 
 system thoroughly — to unravel and judge of its effects 
 upon modern civilization — we must seek it where the 
 form and spirit dwell together ; we must study it in the 
 hierarchy of the laic possessors of fiefs j in the associa- 
 tion of the conquerors of the European territory. This 
 was the true residence of the feudal system, and into this 
 we will now endeavour to penetrate. 
 
 I said a few words, just now, on the importance of ques- 
 tions of a moral nature ; and on the danger and inconve- 
 nience of passing them by without proper attention. A 
 matter of a totally opposite character arises here, and de- 
 mands our consideration ; it is one which has been, in 
 general, too much neglected. I allude to the physical 
 condition of society ; to the changes which take place in 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 93- 
 
 the life and manners of a people in consequence of some 
 new event, some revolution, some new state into which it 
 may be thrown. These changes have not always been 
 sufficiently attended to. The modification which these 
 gre.1t crisises in the history of the world have wrought in 
 the material existence of mankind — in the physical con- 
 ditions of the relations of men to one another — have not 
 been investigated with so much advantage as they might 
 have been. These modifications have more influence 
 upon the general body of society than is imagined. Every 
 one knows how much has been said upon the influence of 
 climate, and of the importance which Montesquieu at- 
 tached to it. Now if we regard only the direct influence 
 of climate upon man, perhaps it has not been so extensive 
 as is generally supposed ; it is, to say the least, vague 
 and difficult to appreciate ; but the indirect influence of 
 climate, that, for example, which arises from the circum- 
 stance that in a hot country man lives in the open air, 
 while in a cold one he lives shut up in his habitation — 
 that he lives here upon one kind of food, and there upon 
 another, are facts of extreme importance j inasmuch as a 
 simple change in physical life may have a powerful eflect 
 upon the course of civilization. Every great revolution 
 leads to modifications of this nature in the social system, 
 and consequently claims our consideration. 
 
 The establishment of the feudal system \^TOught a 
 change of this kind, which had a powerful and striking in- 
 fluence upon European civilization. It changed the dis- 
 tribution of the population. Hitherto the lords of the 
 territory, the conquering population, had lived united in 
 masses more or less numerous, either settled in cities, or 
 moving about the country in bands ; but by the operation 
 of the feudal system these men were brought to live iso- 
 lated, each in his own dwelling, at long distances apart. 
 You will instantly perceive the influence which this change 
 must have exercised upon the character and progress of 
 
941 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 civilization. The social preponderance — the government 
 of society passed at once from cities to the country; the 
 baronial courts of the great landed proprietors took the 
 place of the great national assemblies — the public body 
 was lost in the thousand little sovereignties into which 
 every kingdom was split. This was the first consequence 
 — a consequence purely physical, of the triumph of the 
 feudal system. The more closely we examine this cir- 
 cumstance, the more clearly and forcibly Avill its effects 
 present themselves to our notice. 
 
 Let us now examine this society in itself, and trace out 
 its influence upon the progress of civilization. We will 
 take feudalism, in the first place, in its most simple state, 
 in its primitive fundamental form. We will visit a pos- 
 sessor of a fief in his lonely domain ; we will see the 
 course of life which he leads there, and the little society 
 by which he is surrounded. 
 
 Having fixed upon an elevated solitary spot, strong by 
 nature, and which he takes care to render secure, the 
 lordly proprietor of the domain builds his castle. Here 
 he settles himself, with his wife and children, and perhaps 
 some few freemen, who, not having obtained fiefs, not 
 having themselves become proprietors, have attached 
 themselves to his fortunes, and continued to live with 
 him and form a part of his household. These are the in- 
 habitants of the interior of the castle. At the foot of the 
 hill on which this castle stands we find huddled together 
 a little population of peasants, of serfs, who cultivate the 
 lands of the possessor of the fief. In the midst of this 
 group of cottages religion soon planted a church and a 
 priest. A priest, in these early days of feudalism, was 
 generally the chaplain of the baron, and the curate of the 
 village ; two offices which by and by became separated, 
 and the village had its pastor dwelling by the side of his 
 church. 
 / Such is the first form, the elementary principle, of feu. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 95 
 
 dal society. We will now examine this simple form, in 
 order to put to it the twofold question we have to ask of 
 every fact, namely, what it has done towards the progress 
 — first, of man himself; secondly, of society % 
 
 It is with peculiar propriety that we put this twofold 
 question to the little society I have just described, and that 
 w^e should attach importance to its answers, forasmuch as 
 this society is the type, the faithful picture, of feudal so- 
 ciety in the aggregate : the baron, the people of his 
 domain, and the priest, compose, whether upon a larg^ or 
 smaller scale, the feudal system when separated from mon- 
 archy and cities, two distinct and foreign elements. 
 
 The first circumstance Avhich strikes us in looking at this 
 little community, is the great importance with which the 
 possessor of the fief must have been regarded, not only by 
 himself, but by all around him. A feeling of personal con- 
 sequence, of individual liberty, was a prevailing feature in 
 the character of the barbarians. The feeling here, how- 
 ever, was of a different nature ; it was no longer simply the 
 liberty of the man, of the warrior, it was the importance 
 of the proprietor, of the head of the family, of the master. 
 His situation, with regard to all around him, would natur- 
 ally beget in him an idea of superiority — a superiority of a 
 peculiar nature, and very different from that we meet with 
 in other systems of civilization. Look, for example, at the 
 Roman patrician, who w^as placed in one of the highest 
 aristocratic situations of the an cient world. Like the feudal 
 lord, he was head of the family, superior, master ; and be- 
 sides this, he was a religious magistrate, high priest over 
 his household. But mark the difference : his importance 
 as a religious magistrate is derived from without. It is not 
 an importance, strictly personal, attached to the indvidu- 
 al : he receives it from on high ; he is the delegate of di- 
 vinity, the interpreter of religious faith. The Roman 
 patrician, moreover, Avas the member of a corporation 
 
96 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 which Hved united in the sanae place — a member of the 
 senate — again, an importance which he derived from with- 
 out from his corporation. The greatness of these ancient 
 aristocrats, associated to a religious and political charac- 
 ter, belonged to the situation, to the corporation in general 
 rather than to the individual. That of the proprietor of a 
 fief belonged to himself alone ; he held nothing of any 
 one ; all his rights, all his power, centered in himself. He 
 is no religious magistrate ; he forms no part of a senate ; 
 it is in the individual, in his oa\^ person, that all his im- 
 portance resides — all that he is, he is of himself, in his 
 own name alone. What a vast influence must a situation 
 like this have exercised over him who enjoyed it 1 What 
 hauo-htiness, what pride, must it have engendered \ Above 
 him, no superior of whom he was but the representative and 
 interpreter ; near him no equals ; no general and powerful 
 law to restrain him — no exterior force to control him ; 
 his will suffered no check but from the limits of his power, 
 and the presence of danger. Such seems to me the moral 
 effect that Avould naturally be produced upon the charac- 
 ter or disposition of man, by the situation in which he was 
 placed under the feudal system. 
 
 I shall proceed to a second consequence equally im- 
 portant, though too little noticed ; I mean the peculiar 
 character of the feudal family. 
 
 Let us consider for a moment the various family sys- 
 tems. Let us look, in the first place, at the patriarchal 
 family, of which so beautiful a picture is given us in the 
 Bible, and in numerous Oriental treatises. We find it 
 composed of a great number of individuals — it was a tribe. 
 The chief, the patriarch, in this case, lives in common 
 with his children, with his neighbours, with the various 
 generations assembled around him — all his relations or 
 his servants. He not only lives with them, he has the 
 same interests, the same occupations, he leads the same 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 97 
 
 life. This was the situation of Abraham, and of the patri- 
 archs ; and is still that of the Bedouin Arabs, who, from gen- 
 eration to generation, continue to follow the same patri- 
 archal mode of life. 
 
 Let us look next at the clan — another family system, 
 which now scarcely exists, except in Scotland and Ireland, 
 but through which probably the greater part of the Euro- 
 pean world has passed. This is no longer the patriarchal 
 family. A great difference is found here between the chief 
 and the rest of the community ; he leads not the same life ; 
 the greater part are employed in husbandry, and in supply- 
 ing his wants, while the chief himself lives in idleness or 
 war. Still they all descend from the same stock ; they 
 all bear the same name ; and their common parentage, 
 their ancient traditions, the same remembrances, and same 
 associations, create a moral tie, a sort of equality, between 
 all the members of the clan. 
 
 These are the two principal forms of family society as 
 represented by history. Does either of them, let me ask 
 you, resemble the feudal family ? Certainly not. At the 
 first glance, there may, indeed, seem some similarity be- 
 tween the feudal family and the clan ; but the difference 
 is marked and striking. The population which surrounds 
 the possessor of the fief is quite foreign to him j it bears 
 not his name. They are unconnected by relationship, or 
 by any historical or moral tie. The same holds with re- 
 spect to the patriarchal family. The feudal proprietor nei- 
 ther leads the same life, nor follows the same occupations, 
 as those who live around him \ he is engaged in arms, or 
 lives in idleness: the others are labourers. The feudal 
 family is not numerous — it forms no tribe — it is confined to 
 a single family properly so called ; to the wife and chil- 
 dren, who live separated from the rest of the people in the 
 interior of the castle. The peasantry and serfs form no 
 part of it J they are of another origin, and immeasurably 
 
 9 
 
98 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 beneath it. Five or six individuals, at a vast height above 
 them, and at the same time foreigners, make up the feudal 
 family. Is it not evident that the peculiarity of its situa- 
 tion must have given to this family a peculiar character 1 
 Confined, concentrated, called upon continually to defend 
 itself ; mistrusting, or at least shutting itself up from the 
 rest of the world, even from its servants, in-door life, do- 
 mestic manners must naturally have acquired a great pre- 
 ponderance. We cannot keep out of sight, that the grosser 
 passions of the chief, the constantly passing his time in 
 warfare or hunting, opposed a considerable obstacle to the 
 formation of a strictly domestic society. But its progress, 
 though slow, was certain. The chief, however violent and 
 brutal his out-door exercises, must habitually return into 
 the bosom of his family. He there finds his wife and chil- 
 dren, and scarcely any but them ; they alone are his con- 
 stant companions ; they alone divide his sorrows and sof- 
 ten his joys ; they alone are interested in all that concerns 
 him. It could not but happen in such circumstances, that 
 domestic life must have acquired a vast influence ; nor is 
 there any lack of proofs that it did so. Was it not in the 
 bosom of the feudal family that the importance of Avomen, 
 that the value of the wife and mother, at last made itself 
 knoAATi 1 In none of the ancient communities, not merely 
 speaking of those in which the spirit of family never exist- 
 ed, but in those in which it existed most poAverfully — say, 
 for example, in the patriarchal system — in none of these 
 did women ever attain to any thing like the place which 
 they acquired in Europe under the feudal system. It is to 
 the progress, to the preponderance of domestic manners in 
 the feudal halls and castles, that they owe this change, this 
 improvement in their condition. The cause of this has been 
 sought for in the peculiar manners of the ancient Germans ; 
 in a national respect which they are said to have borne, in 
 the midst of their forests, to the female sex. Upon a single 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EtTROPE. 99 
 
 phrase of Tacitus, Germanic patriotism has founded a high 
 degree of superiority — of primitive and ineffable purity of 
 manners — in the relations between the two sexes among 
 the Germans. Pure chimeras! Phrases like this of Ta- 
 citus — sentiments and customs analogous to those of the 
 Germans of old, are found in the narratives of a host of 
 writers, who have seen, or inquired into, the manners of 
 savage and barbarous tribes. There is nothing primitive, 
 nothing peculiar, to a certain race in this matter. It was 
 in the effects of a very decided social situation — it was in 
 the increase and preponderance of domestic manners, that 
 the importance of the female sex in Europe had its rise, and 
 the preponderance of domestic manners in Europe very ear- 
 ly became an essential characteristic in the feudal system. 
 
 A second circumstance, a fresh proof of the influence of 
 domestic life, forms a striking feature in the picture of a 
 feudal family: I mean the principle of inheritance — the 
 spirit of perpetuity which so strongly predominates in its 
 character. This spirit of inheritance is a natural off-shoot 
 of the spirit of family, but it nowhere took such deep root 
 as in the feudal system, where it was nourished by the na- 
 ture of the property with which the family Avas, as it were, 
 incorporated. The fief differed from other possessions in 
 this, that it constantly required a chief, or owner, w^ho 
 could defend it, manage it, discharge the obligations by 
 which it was held, and thus maintain its rank in the general 
 association of the great proprietors of the kingdom. There 
 thus became a kind of identification of the possessor of the 
 fief with the fief itself, and with all its future possessors. 
 
 This circumstance powerfully tended to strengthen and 
 knit together the ties of family, already so strong by the 
 nature of the feudal system itself. 
 
 Quitting the baronial dwelling, let us now descend to the 
 little population that surrounds it. Every thing here wears 
 a different aspect. The disposition of man is so kindly 
 and good, that it is almost impossible for a number oi in- 
 
100 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 dividuals to be placed for any length of time in a social 
 situation without giving birth to a certain moral tie be- 
 tween them: sentiments of protection, of benevolence, of 
 affection, spring up naturally. Thus it happened in the 
 feudal system. There can be no doubt, but that after a 
 certain time, kind and friendly feelings would grow up be- 
 tween the feudal lord and his serfs. This however took 
 place in spite of their relative situation, and by no means 
 through its influence. Considered in itself this situation 
 was radically vicious. There was nothing morally com- 
 mon between the holder of the fief and his serfs. They 
 formed part of his estate ; they were his property j and 
 under this word property are comprised, not only all the 
 rights which we delegate to the public magistrate to ex- 
 ercise in the name of the state, but likewise all those 
 Avhich we possess over private property : the right of 
 making laws, of levying taxes, of inflicting punishment, as 
 well as that of disposing of them — or selling them. There 
 existed not, in fact, between the lord of the domain and 
 its cultivators, so far as we consider the latter as men, 
 either rights, guarantee, or society. 
 
 From this I believe has arisen that almost universal, 
 invincible hatred Avhich country people have at all times 
 borne to the feudal system, to every remnant of it — to its 
 very name. We are not without examples of men having 
 submitted to the heavy yoke of despotism, of their having 
 become accustomed to it, nay more, of their having freely 
 accepted it. Religious despotism, monarchical despotism, 
 have more than once obtained the sanction, almost the 
 love, of the population which they governed. But feudal 
 despotism has always been repulsed, always hateful. It 
 tyrannized over the destinies of men, without ruling in 
 their hearts. Perhaps this may be partly accounted for by 
 the fact, that, in religious and monarchical despotism, 
 authority is always exercised by virtue of some belief or 
 opinion common to both ruler and subjects 3 he is the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 101 
 
 representative, the minister, of another power superior to 
 all human powers. He speaks or acts in the name of Di- 
 vinity or of a common feeling, and not in the name of man 
 himself, of man alone. Feudal despotism differed from 
 this, it was the authority of man over man 5 the domina- 
 tion of the personal, capricious will of an individual. 
 This perhaps is the only tyranny to which man, much to 
 his honour, never will submit. Wherever in a ruler, or 
 master, he sees but the individual man, — the moment that 
 the authority which presses upon him is no more than an 
 individual, a human will, one like his own, he feels morti- 
 fied and indignant, and struggles against the yoke which 
 he is compelled to bear. Such was the true, the distinc- 
 tive character of the feudal power, and such was the ori- 
 gin of the hatred which it has never ceased to inspire. 
 
 The religious element which was associated with the 
 feudal power was but little calculated to alleviate its yoke. 
 I do not see how the influence of the priest could be very 
 great in the society which I have just described, or that he 
 could have much success in legitimizing the connection 
 between the enslaved people and the lordly proprietor. 
 The church has exercised a very powerful influence in the 
 civilization of Europe, but then it has been by proceeding 
 in a general manner — by changing the general disposi- 
 tions of mankind. When Ave enter intimately into the lit- 
 tle feudal society, properly so called, we find the influ- 
 ence of the priest between the baron and his serfs to have 
 been very slight. It most frequently happened that he was 
 as rude and nearly as much under control as the serf him- 
 self ; and therefore not very well fitted, either by his posi- 
 tion or talents, to enter into a contest with the lordly 
 baron. We must, to be sure, naturally suppose, that called 
 upon as he was by his office to administer and to keep 
 alive among these poor people the great moral truths of 
 Christianity, he became endeared and useful to them in 
 
 9* 
 
102 GE^^ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 this respect ; he consoled and instructed them ; but I be- 
 lieve he had but little power to soften their hard con- 
 dition. 
 
 Having examined the feudal sj^stem in its rudest, its 
 simplest form; having placed before you the principal 
 consequences which flowed from it, as respects the pos- 
 sessor of the fief himself, as respects his family, and as 
 respects the population gathered about him , let us now 
 quit this narrow precinct. The population of the fief was 
 not the only one in the land : there were other societies 
 mor or less like his own of which he was a member — 
 with which he was connected. What, then, let us ask, was 
 the influence which this general society to which he be- 
 longed might be expected to exercise upon civilization 1 
 
 One short observation before we reply : both the pos- 
 sessor of the fief and the priest, it is true, formed part of a 
 general society ; in the distance they had numerous and 
 frequent connections; not so the cultivators — the serfs. 
 Every time that, in speaking of the population of the 
 country at this period, we make use of some general term, 
 which seems to convey the idea of one single and same 
 society — such for example as the word people — we speak 
 without truth. For this population there was no general 
 society — its existence was purely local. Beyond the es- 
 tate in which they dwelt, the serfs had no relations what- 
 ever, — no connection either with persons, things, or gov- 
 ernment. For them there existed no common destiny, no 
 common country — they formed not a nation. When we 
 speak of the feudal association as a whole, it is only the 
 great proprietors that are alluded to. 
 
 Let us now see what the relations of the little feudal 
 
 society were with the general society to which it held, 
 
 and what consequences these relations may be expected 
 
 to have led to in the progress of civilization. 
 
 We all know what the ties were which bound together the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 103 
 
 possessors of fiefs ; what conditions were attached to their 
 possessions ; what were the ohligations of service on one 
 part, and of protection on the other. I shall not enter into 
 a detail of these obligations, it is enough for the present 
 purpose that you have a general idea of them. This sys- 
 tem, however, seemed naturally to pour into the mind of 
 every possessor of a fief a certain number of ideas and 
 moral sentiments — ideas of duty, sentiments of affection. 
 That the principles of fidelity, devotedness, loyalty, be- 
 came developed, and maintained by the relations in which 
 the possessors of fiefs stood towards one another, is evi- 
 dent. The fact speaks for itself. 
 
 The attempt was made to change these obligations, these 
 duties, these sentiments, and so on, into laws and institu- 
 tions. It is well known that feudalism wished legally to 
 settle what services the possessor of a fief owed to his 
 sovereign ; what services he had a right to expect from 
 him in return ; in what cases the vassal might be called 
 upon to furnish military or pecuniary aid to his lord j in 
 what way the lord might obtain the services of his vassals, 
 in those afTairs, in which they were not bound to yield them 
 by the mere possession of their fiefs. The attempt was 
 made to place all these rights under the protection of insti- 
 tutions founded to ensure their respect. Thus the baronial 
 jurisdictions were erected to administer justice between 
 the possessors of fiefs, upon complaints duly laid before 
 their common suzerain. Thus every baron of any consid- 
 eration collected his Aassals in parliament, to debate in 
 common the affairs which required their consent or con- 
 currence. There was, in short, a combination of political, 
 judicial, and military means, w^hich show the attempt to 
 organize the feudal system— -to convert the relations be- 
 tween the possessors of fiefs into laws and institutions. 
 
 But these laws, these institutions, had no stability— no 
 guarantee. 
 
104 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 If it should be asked what is a political guarantee, I am 
 compelled to look back to its fundamental character, and 
 to state that this is the constant existence, in the bosom 
 of society, of a will, of an aiJthority disposed and in a 
 condition to impose a law upon the wills and poAvers of 
 private individuals — to enforce their obedience to the 
 common rule, to make them respect the general law. 
 
 There are only two systems of political guarantees 
 possible : there must be either a will, a particular power, 
 so superior to the others that none of them can resist it, 
 but are obliged to yield to its authority whenever it is 
 interposed ; or, on the other, a public will, the result of 
 the concurrence — of the development of the wills of indi- 
 viduals, and which likewise is in a condition, when once 
 it has expressed itself, to make itself obeyed and respected 
 by all. 
 
 These are the only two systems of political guarantees 
 possible ; the despotism of one alone, or of a body ; or 
 free government. If we examine the various systems, we 
 shall find that they may all be brought under one of these 
 two. 
 
 Well, neither of these existed, or could exist, under the 
 feudal system. 
 
 Without doubt the possessors of fiefs were not all equal 
 among themselves. There were some much more power- 
 ful than others ; and very many sufficiently powerful to op- 
 press the weaker. But there was none, from the king, the 
 first of proprietors, downward, who was in a condition to 
 impose law upon all the others ; in a condition to make 
 himself obeyed. Call to mind that none of the permanent 
 means of power and influence at this time existed — no 
 standing army — no regular taxes — no fixed tribunals. The 
 social authorities — the institutions had, in a manner, to be 
 new formed every time they were wanted. A tribunal had 
 to be formed for every trial — an army to be formed for 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 105 
 
 every war — a revenue to be formed every time that mo- 
 ney was needed. All was occasional — accidental — spe- 
 cial ; there was no central, permanent, independent means 
 of government. It is evident, that in such a system no 
 individual had the power to enforce his will upon others: 
 to compel all to respect and obey the general law. 
 
 On the other hand, resistance was easy, in proportion 
 as repression was difficult. Shut up in his (Castle, with 
 but a small number of enemies to cope with, and aware 
 that other vassals in a like situation, were ready to join 
 and assist him, the possessor of a fief found but little 
 difficulty in defending himself. 
 
 It must then, I think, be confessed, that the first system 
 of political guarantees — namely, that which would make 
 all responsible to the strongest — has been shown to be 
 impossible under the feudal system. 
 
 The other system — that of free government, of a pub- 
 lic power, a public authority — was just as impracticable. 
 The reason is simple enough. When we speak now of a 
 public power, of what we call the rights of sovereignty 
 — that is, the right of making laws, of imposing taxes, of 
 inflicting punishment, we know, w^e bear in mind, that 
 these rights belong to nobody ; that no one has, on his 
 OA\Ti account, the right to punish others, or to impose any 
 burden or law upon them. These are rights which belong 
 only to the great body of society, which are exercised 
 only in its name j they are emanations from the people, 
 and held in trust for their benefit. Thus it happens that 
 when an individual is brought before an authority invested 
 with these rights, the sentiment that predominates in his 
 mind, though perhaps he himself may be unconscious of 
 it, is, that he is in the presence of a public legitimate au- 
 thority, invested with the power to command him, an 
 authority which, beforehand, he has tacitly acknowledged. 
 This was by no means the case under the feudal system. 
 
106 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 The possessor of a fief, within his domain, was invested 
 with all the rights and privileges of sovereignty ; he in- 
 herited them with the territory j they were a matter of 
 private property. What are now called public rights were 
 then private rights ; what are now called public authori- 
 ties were then private authorities. When the possessor 
 of a fief, after having exercised sovereign power in his 
 own name, as proprietor over all the population which 
 lived around him, attended an assembly, attended a par- 
 liament held by his sovereign — a parliament not in gene- 
 ral very numerous, and composed of men of the same 
 grade, or nearly so, as himself — he did not carry with him 
 any notion of a public authority. This idea was in direct 
 contradiction to all about him — to all his notions, to all 
 that he had done within his OAvn domains. All he saw in 
 these assemblies were men invested with the same rights 
 as himself, in the same situation as himself, acting as he 
 had done by virtue of their own personal title. Nothing 
 led or compelled him to see or acknowledge in the very 
 highest portion of the government, or in the institutions 
 which we call public, that character of superiority or 
 generality which seems to us bound up with the notion of 
 political power. Hence, if he was dissatisfied with its 
 decision, he refused to concur in it, and perhaps called in 
 force to resist it. 
 
 Force, indeed, was the true and usual guarantee of 
 right under the feudal system, if force can be called a 
 guarantee. Every law continually had recourse to force 
 to make itself respected or acknowledged. No institution 
 succeeded under it. This was so perfectly felt that insti- 
 tutions were scarcely ever applied to. If the agency of 
 the baronial courts or parliaments of vassals had been of 
 any importance, we should find them more generally em- 
 ployed than, from history, they appear to have been. 
 Their rarity proves their insignificance. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 107 
 
 This is not astonishing. There is another reason for 
 it more profound and decisive than any I have yet ad- 
 duced. 
 
 . Of all the systems of government and political guaran- 
 tee, it may be asserted, without fear of contradiction, that 
 the most difficult to establish and render effectual, is the 
 federative system ; a system which consists in leaving in 
 each place or province, in every separate society, all that 
 portion of government which can abide there, and in tak- 
 ing from it, only so much of it as is indispensable to a 
 general society, in order to carry it to the centre of this 
 larger society, and there to embody it under the form of 
 a central government. This federative system, theoreti- 
 cally the most simple, is found in practice the most com- 
 plex ; for in order to reconcile the degree of indepen- 
 dence, of local liberty, which is permitted to remain, with 
 the degree of general order, of general submission, which 
 in certain cases it supposes and exacts, evidently requires 
 a very advanced state of civilization — requires, indeed, 
 that the will of man, that individual liberty, should concur 
 in the establishment and maintenance of the system much 
 more than in any other, because it possesses less than 
 any other the means of coercion. 
 
 The federative system, then, is one which evidently re- 
 quires the greatest maturity of reason, of morality, of 
 civilization in the society to which it is applied. Yet we 
 find that this was the kind of government which the feu- 
 dal system attempted to establish: for feudalism, as a 
 whole, was truly a confederation. It rested upon the 
 same principles, for example, as those on which is based, 
 in the present day, the federative system of the United 
 States of America. It affected to leave in the hands of 
 each great proprietor all that portion of the government, 
 of sovereignty, which could be exercised there, and to 
 carry to the suzerain, or to the general assembly of ba- 
 
108 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 rons, the least possible portion of power, and only this in 
 cases of absolute necessity. You will easily conceive the 
 impossibility of establishing a system like this in a world 
 of ignorance, of brute passions, or, in a word, where the 
 moral condition of man was so imperfect as under the 
 feudal system. The very nature of such a government 
 was in opposition to the notions, the habits and manners 
 of the very men to whom it was to be applied. How then 
 can we be astonished at the bad success of this attempt 
 at organization 1 
 
 We have now considered the feudal system, first, in its 
 most simple element, in its fundamental principle ; and 
 then in its collective form, as a whole : we have examined 
 it under these two points of view, in order to see what it 
 did, and what it might have been expected to do, what has 
 been its influence on the progress of civilization. These 
 investigations, I think, bring us to this twofold conclu- 
 sion : — 
 
 1st. Feudalism seems to have exercised a great, and 
 upon the whole, a salutary influence upon the intellectual 
 development of individuals. It gave birth to elevated 
 ideas and feelings in the mind, to moral wants, to grand 
 developments of character and passion. 
 
 2dly. With regard to society, it was incapable of estab- 
 lishing either legal order or political guarantee. In the 
 w^retched state to which society had been reduced by bar- 
 barism, in which it was incapable of a more regular or 
 enlarged form, the feudal system seemed indispensable as a 
 step towards re-association ; still this system, in itself rad- 
 ically vicious, could neither regulate nor enlarge society. 
 The only political right which the feudal system was ca- 
 pable of exercising in European society, was the right of 
 resistance : I will not say legal resistance, for there can 
 be no question of legal resistance in a society so little ad- 
 vanced. The progress of society consists pre-eminently 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 109 
 
 in substituting, on one hand, public authority for private 
 will ; and, on the other, legal resistance for individual re- 
 sistance. This is the great end, the chief perfection, of 
 social order ; a large field is left to personal liberty, but 
 when personal liberty offends, when it becomes necessary 
 to call it to account, our only appeal is to public reason ; 
 public reason is placed in the judge's chair to pass sen- 
 tence on the charge which is preferred against individual 
 liberty. Such is the system of legal order and of legal re- 
 sistance. You will easily perceive, that there was nothing 
 bearing any resemblance to this in the feudal system. The 
 right of resistance, which was maintained and practised 
 in this system, was the right of personal resistance ; a 
 terrible and anti-social right, inasmuch as its only appeal 
 is to brute force — to war — which is the destruction of so- 
 ciety itself ; a right, hov\-ever, Avhich ought never to be 
 entirely erased from the mind of man, because by its 
 abolition he puts on the fetters of servitude. The notion 
 of the right of resistance had been banished from the 
 Roman communitj', by the general disgrace and infamy 
 into which it had fallen, and it could not be regenerated 
 from its ruins. It could not, in my opinion, have sprung 
 more naturally from the principles of Christian society. 
 It is to the feudal system that we are indebted for its 
 re-introduction among us. The glory of civilization is 
 to render this principle for ever inactive and useless ; the 
 glory of the feudal system is its having constantly pro- 
 fessed and defended it. 
 
 Such, if I am not widely mistaken, is the result of our 
 investigation of the feudal community, considered in it- 
 self, in its general principles, and independently of its 
 historical progress. If we now turn to facts, to history, 
 we shall find it to have fallen out, just as might have been 
 expected, that the feudal system accomplished its task j 
 that its destiny has been conformable to its nature. 
 Events may be adduced in proof of all the conjectures, of 
 
 10 
 
110 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 all the inductions, which I have drawn from the nature 
 and essential character of this system. - 
 
 Take a glance, for example, at the general history of 
 feudalism, from the tenth to the thirteenth centuries, and 
 say, is it not impossible to deny that it exercised a vast 
 and salutary influence upon the progress of individual 
 man — upon the development of his sentiments, his dispo- 
 sition, and his ideas 1 Where can we open the history of 
 this period, without discovering a crowd of noble senti- 
 ments, of splendid achievements, of beautiful develop- 
 ments of humanity, evidently generated in the bosom of 
 feudal life. Chivalry, which in reality bears scarcely the 
 least resemblance to feudalism, was nevertheless its off- 
 spring. It was feudalism which gave birth to that roman- 
 tic thirst and fondness for all that is noble, generous, and 
 faithful — for that sentiment of honour, which still raises 
 its voice in favour of the system by which it was nursed. 
 
 But turn to another side. Here we see that the first 
 sparks of European imagination, that the first attempts of 
 poetry, of literature, that the first intellectual gratifica- 
 tions which Europe tasted in emerging from barbarism, 
 sprung up under the protection, under the wings, of feu- 
 dalism. It was in the baronial hall that they were born, 
 and cherished, and protected. It is to the feudal times 
 that we trace back the earliest literary monuments of 
 England, France, and Germany, the earliest intellectual 
 enjoyments of modern Europe. 
 
 As a set-off to this, if we question history respecting 
 the influence of feudalism, upon the social system, its 
 reply is, though still in accordance with our conjectures, 
 that the feudal system has everywhere opposed not only 
 the establishment of general order, but at the same time 
 the extension of general liberty. Under whatever point 
 of view we consider the progress of society, the feudal sys- 
 tem always appears as an obstacle in its way. Hence, 
 from the earliest existence of feudalism, the two powers 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. HI 
 
 which have been the prime movers in the progress of 
 order and liberty — monarchical power on the one hand, 
 and popular power on the other — that is to say, the king 
 and the people — have both attacked it, and struggled 
 against it continually. What few attempts were made at 
 different periods to regulate it, to impart to it somewhat 
 of a legal, a general character — as was done in England, 
 by William the Conqueror and his sons ; in France, by 
 St. Louis ; and by several of the German Emperors — all 
 these endeavours, all these attempts failed. The very 
 nature itself of feudality is opposed to order and legalitj^. 
 In the last century, some writers of talent attempted to 
 dress out feudalism as a social system ; they endeavoured 
 to make it appear a legitimate, well-ordered, progressive 
 state of society, and represented it as a golden age. Ask 
 them, however, where it existed : summon them to assign 
 it a locality, and a time, and they will be found wanting. 
 It is a Utopia without date, a drama, for which we find, in 
 the past, neither theatre nor actors. The cause of this 
 error is noways difficult to discover ; and it accounts as 
 well for the error of the opposite class, who cannot pro- 
 nounce the name of feudalism without coupling to it an 
 absolute anathema. Both these parties have looked at it, 
 as the two knights did at the statue of Janus, only on one 
 side. They have not considered the two different points 
 of view from which feudalism may be surveyed. They 
 do not distinguish, on one hand, its influence upon the 
 progress of the individual man, upon his feelings, his 
 faculties, his disposition and passions ; nor, on the other, 
 its influence upon the social condition. One party could 
 not imagine that a social system in which were to be 
 found so many noble sentiments, so many virtues, in which 
 were seen sprouting forth the earliest buds of literature 
 and science ; in w^hich manners became not only more 
 refined, but attained a certain elevation and grandeur ; in 
 such a system they could not imagine that the evil was 
 
112 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 SO great or so fatal as it was made to appear. The other 
 party, seeing but the misery which feudalism inflicted on 
 the great body of the people — the obstacles which it op- 
 posed to the establishment of order and liberty — would 
 not believe that it could produce noble characters, great 
 virtues, or any improvement whatsoever. Both these 
 parties have misunderstood the twofold principle of civil- 
 ization ; they have not been aware that it consists of two 
 movements, one of which for a time may advance inde- 
 pendently of the other; although after a lapse of centu- 
 ries, and perhaps a long series of events, they must at 
 last reciprocally recall and bring forward each other. 
 
 To conclude, feudalism, in its character and influence, 
 was just what its nature would lead us to expect. Indi- 
 vidualism, the energy of personal existence, was the pre- 
 vailing principle among the vanquishers of the Roman 
 world ; and the development of the individual man, of his 
 mind, and faculties, might above all be expected to result 
 from the social system, founded by them and for them. 
 That which man himself carries into a social system, his 
 intellectual moral disposition at the time he enters it, has 
 a powerful influence upon the situation in which he esta- 
 blishes himself — upon all around him. This situation in 
 its turn reacts upon his dispositions, strengthens and im- 
 proves them. The individual prevailed in German socie- 
 ty ; and the influence of the feudal system, the offspring 
 of German society, displayed itself in the improvement 
 and advance of the individual. We shall find the same 
 fact to recur in the other elements of our civilization : 
 they all hold faithful to their original principle ; they have 
 advanced and pushed the world in that same road by 
 which they first entered. The subject of the next lecture 
 — the history of the Church, and its influence upon Euro- 
 pean civilization, from the fifth to the twelfth century — 
 will furnish us with a new and striking example of this fact. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 113 
 
 LE CTURE V 
 
 THE CHURCH 
 
 Having investigated the nature and influence of the 
 feudal system, I shall take the Christian Church, from the 
 fifth to the twelfth century, as the subject of the present 
 lecture. I say the Christian Churchy because, as I have 
 observed once before, it is not about Christianity itself, 
 Christianity as a religious system, that I shall occupy 
 your attention, but the Church as an ecclesiastical society 
 — the Christian hierarchy. 
 
 This society was almost completely organized before 
 the close of the fifth century. Not that it has not under- 
 gone many and important changes since that period, but 
 from this time the Church, considered as a corporation, as 
 the government of the Christian world, may be said to 
 have attained a complete and independent existence. 
 
 A single glance will be sufficient to convince us, that 
 there existed, in the fifth century, an immense difference 
 between the state of the Church and that of the other ele- 
 ments of European civilization. You will remember that 
 I have pointed out, as primary elements of our civilization, 
 the municipal system, the feudal system, monarchy, and 
 the Church. The municipal system, in the fifth century, 
 was no more than a fragment of the Roman empire, a 
 shadow without life, or definite form. The feudal system 
 was still a chaos. Monarchy existed only in name. All 
 the civil elements of modern society were either in their 
 decline or infancy. The Church alone possessed youth 
 and vigour ; she alone possessed at the same ti^ie a defi- 
 
 10* 
 
Il4f GE^ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 nite form, with activity and strength ; she alone possessed 
 at once movement and order, energy and system, that is 
 to say, the two greatest means of influence. Is it not, let 
 me ask you, by mental vigour, by intellectual movement 
 on one side, and by order and discipline on the other,, that 
 all institutions acquire their power and influence over so- 
 ciety 1 The Church, moreover, awakened attention to, and 
 ao-itated all the great questions which interest man ; she 
 busied herself with all the great problems of his nature, 
 with all he had to hope or fear for futurity. Hence her 
 influence upon modern civilization has been so powerful — 
 more povrerful, perhaps, than its most violent adversaries, 
 or its most zealous defenders, have supposed. They, 
 eager to advance or abuse her, have only regarded the 
 Church in a contentious point of view ; and with that con- 
 tracted spirit which controversy engenders, how could 
 they do her justice, or grasp the full scope of her sway % 
 
 To us, the Church, in the fifth century, appears as an 
 organized and independent society, interposed between the 
 masters of the world, the sovereigns, the possessors of 
 temporal power, and the people, serving as a connecting 
 link between them, and exercising its influence over all. 
 
 To know and completely understand its agency, then, 
 we must consider it from three different points of view: 
 we must consider it first in itself — we must see what it 
 really was, what were its internal constitution, what the 
 principles which there bore sway, what its nature. We 
 must next consider it in its relations with temporal rulers 
 — ^kings, lords, and others ; and, finally, in its relations 
 with the people. And when by this threefold investiga- 
 tion we have formed a complete picture of the Church, of 
 its principles, its situation, and the influence which it 
 exercised, ^xe will verify this picture by history ; we will 
 see whether facts, whether what we properly call events, 
 from the fifth to the twelfth century, agree with the con- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 115 
 
 elusions which our threefold examination of the Church, 
 of its own nature, of its relations with the masters of the 
 world, and with the people, had previously led us to come 
 to respecting it. 
 
 Let us first consider the Church in itself, its internal 
 condition, its own nature. 
 
 The first, and perhaps the most important fact that de- 
 mands our attention here, is its existence ; the existence 
 of a government of religion, of a priesthood, of an eccle- 
 siastical corporation. 
 
 In the opinion of many enlightened persons the very 
 notion of a religious corporation, of a priesthood, of a 
 government of religion, is absurd. They believe that a 
 religion, whose object is the establishment of a clerical 
 body, of a priesthood legally constituted, in short, of a 
 government of religion, must exercise, upon the whole, an 
 influence more dangerous than useful. In their opinion 
 religion is a matter purely individual betwixt man and God ; 
 and that whenever religion loses this character, when- 
 ever an exterior authority interferes between the indivi- 
 dual and the object of his religious belief, that is, between 
 him and God, religion is corrupted, and society in danger. 
 
 It will not do to pass by this question without taking a 
 deeper view of it. In order to know what has been the 
 influence of the Christian Church we must know what 
 ought to be, from the nature of the institution itself, the 
 influence of a Church, the influence of a priesthood. To 
 judge of this influence we must inquire more especially 
 whether religion is, in fact, purely individual ; whether it 
 excites and gives birth to nothing beyond this intimate 
 relation between each individual and God; or whether it 
 does not, in fact, necessarily become a source of neAV rela- 
 tions between man and man, and so necessarily lead to 
 the formation of a religious society, and from that to a 
 government of this society. 
 
116 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 If we reduce religion to what is properly called reli- 
 gious feeling — to that feeling which, though very real, is 
 somewhat vague, somewhat uncertain in its object, and 
 which we can scarcely characterize but by naming it — to 
 that feeling which addresses itself at one time to exterior 
 nature, at another to the inmost recesses of the soul j to- 
 day to the imagination, to-morrow to the mysteries of the 
 future ; which wanders everywhere, and settles nowhere ; 
 which, in a word, exhausts both the world of matter and 
 of fancy in search of a resting-place, and yet finds none — 
 if we reduce religion to this feeling ; then, it would seem, 
 it may remain purely individual. Such a feeling may give 
 rise to a passing association ; it may, it will indeed, find a 
 pleasure in sympathy ; it will feed upon it, it will be 
 strengthened by it ; but its fluctuating and doubtful char- 
 acter will prevent its becoming the principle of permanent 
 and extensive association ; will prevent it from accommo- 
 dating itself to any system of precepts, of discipline, of 
 forms ; will prevent it, in a word, from giving birth to a 
 society, to a religious government. 
 
 But either I have strangely deceived myself, or this 
 religious feeling does not comprehend the whole reli- 
 gious nature of man. Eeligion, in my opinion, is quite 
 another thing, and infinitely more comprehensive than this. 
 
 Joined to the destinies and nature of man, there are a 
 number of problems whose solution we cannot work out in 
 the present life ; these, though connected with an order of 
 things strange and foreign to the world around us, and ap- 
 parently beyond the reach of human faculties, do not the 
 less invincibly torment the soul of man, part of whose na- 
 ture it seems to be, anxiously to desire and struggle for the 
 clearing up of the mystery in which they are involved. 
 The solution of these problems, — -the creeds and dogmas 
 which contain it, or at least are supposed to contain it — 
 such is the first object, the first source, of religion. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 117 
 
 Another road brings us to the same point. To those 
 among us who have made some progress in the study of 
 moral philosophy, it is now, I presume, become sufficiently 
 evident, that morality may exist independently of religious 
 ideas ; that the distinction between moral good and moral 
 evil, the obligation to avoid evil and to cleave to that which 
 is good, are laws as much acknowledged by man, in his 
 proper nature, as the laws of logic ; and which spring as 
 much from a principle within him as in his actual life they 
 find their application. But granting these truths to be 
 proved, yielding up to morality its independence, a ques- 
 tion naturally arises in the human mind : whence cometh 
 morality, whither doth it lead 1 This obligation to do good, 
 which exists of itself, is it a fact standing by itself, with- 
 out author, without aim 1 Doth it not conceal, or rather 
 doth it not reveal to man, an origin, a destiny, reaching 
 beyond this w^orld l By this question, which rises spon- 
 taneously and inevitably, morality, in its turn, leads man 
 to the porch of religion, and opens to him a sphere from 
 which he has not borrowed it. 
 
 Thus on one side the problems of our nature, on the 
 other the necessity of seeking a sanction, an origin, an 
 aim, for morality, open to us fruitful and certain sources 
 of religion. Thus it presents itself before us under many 
 other aspects besides that of a simple feeling such as I 
 have described. It presents itself as an assemblage : 
 
 First, of doctrines called into existence by the problems 
 which man finds in himself. 
 
 Secondlj^, of precepts which correspond with these doc- 
 trines, and give to natural morality a signification and 
 sanction. 
 
 Thirdly, and lastly, of promises which address them 
 selves to the hopes of humanity respecting futurity. 
 
 This is truly what constitutes religion. This is really 
 what it is at bottom, and not a mere form of sensibility, a 
 sally of the imagination, a species of poetry. 
 
118 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Religion thus brought back to its true element, to its 
 essence, no longer appears as an affair purely individual, 
 but as a powerful and fruitful principle of association. 
 Would you regard it as a system of opinions, of dogmas'? 
 The answer is, truth belongs to no one, it is universal, ab- 
 solute ; all men are prone to seek it, to profess it in com- 
 mon. Would you rest upon the precepts which are asso- 
 ciated with the doctrines 1 The reply is, law obligatory 
 upon one is obligatory upon all — man is bound to promul- 
 gate it, to bring all under its authority. It is the same 
 with respect to the promises which religion makes as the 
 rewards of obedience to its faith and its precepts ; it is ne- 
 cessary they should be spread, and that these fruits of reli- 
 gion should be offered to all. From the essential elements 
 of religion then is seen to spring up a religious society ; 
 and it springs from them so infallibly that the word which 
 expresses the social feeling Avith the greatest energy, 
 which expresses our invincible desire to propagate ideas, 
 to extend society, is proselytism — a term particularly ap- 
 plied to religious creeds, to which it seems almost exclu- 
 sively consecrated. 
 
 A religious society once formed, — whep a certain num- 
 ber of men are joined together by the same religious opin- 
 ions and belief, yield obedience to the same law of reli- 
 gious precepts, and are inspired with the same religious 
 hopes, they need a government. No society can exist a 
 week, no not even an hour, without a government. At the 
 very instant in which a society is formed, by the very act 
 of its formation it calls forth a government, \vhich pro- 
 claims the common truth that holds them together, which 
 promulgates and maintains the precepts that this truth 
 may be expected to bring forth. That a religious society, 
 like all others, requires a controlling power, a govern- 
 ment, is implied in the very fact that a society exists. 
 And not only is a government necessary, but it naturally 
 arises of itself. I cannot spare much time to show how 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 119 
 
 governments rise and become established in society in 
 general I shall only remark that when matters are left 
 to take their natural course, when no exterior force is ap- 
 plied to drive them from their usual route, power will fall 
 into the hands of the most capable, of the most worthy, 
 into the hands of those who will lead society on its way. 
 Are there thoughts of a military expedition 1 the bravest 
 will have the command. Is society anxious about some 
 discover}^, some learned enterprise 1 the most skilful will 
 be sought for. The same will take place in all other mat- 
 ters. Let but the common order of things be observed, 
 let the natural inequality of men freely display itself, and 
 each will find the station that he is best fitted to fill. So, 
 as regards religion, men will be found no more equal in 
 talents, in abilities, and in power, than they are in other 
 matters : this man has a more striking method than others 
 in proclaiming the doctrines of religion and making con- 
 verts ; another has more power in enforcing religious pre- 
 cepts ; a third may excel in exciting religious hopes and 
 emotions, and keeping the soul in a devout and holy frame. 
 The same inequality of faculties and of influence, which 
 gives rise to power in civil society, will be found to exist 
 in religious society. Missionaries, like generals, go forth 
 to conquer. So that while, on the one hand, religious 
 government naturally flows from the nature of religious 
 society, it as naturally develops itself, on the other, by 
 the simple effect of human faculties, and their unequal 
 distribution. Thus the moment that religion takes pos- 
 session of a man, a religious society begins to be formed ; 
 and the moment this religious society appears it gives 
 birth to a government. 
 
 A grave objection, however, here presents itself: in this 
 case there is nothing to command, nothing to impose ; no 
 kind of force can here be legitimate. There is no place 
 for government, because here the most perfect liberty 
 ought to prevail. 
 
120 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Be it so. But is it not forming a gross and degrading 
 idea of government, to suppose that it resides only^ to 
 suppose that it resides chiefiy^ in the force which it exer- 
 cises to make itself obeyed, in its coercive element % 
 
 Let us quit religion for a moment, and turn to civil gov- 
 ernments. Trace with me, I beseech you, the simple 
 march of circumstances. Society exists. Something is 
 to be done, ho matter what, in its name and for its inter- 
 est ; a law has to be executed, some measure to be adopt- 
 ed, a judgment to be pronounced. Now, certainly, there 
 is a proper method of supplying these social v/ants j there 
 is a proper law to make, a proper measure to adopt, a 
 proper judgment to pronounce. Whatever may be the 
 matter in hand, whatever may be the interest in question, 
 there is, upon every occasion, a truth which must be dis- 
 covered, and which ought to decide the matter, and gov- 
 ern the conduct to be adopted. _ 
 
 The first business of government is to seek this truth, 
 is to discover what is just, reasonable and suitable to so- 
 ciety. When this is found, it is proclaimed : the next 
 business is to introduce it to the public mind ; to get it 
 approved by the men upon whom it is to act ; to persuade 
 them that it is reasonable. In all this is there any thing 
 coercive % Not at all. Suppose now that the truth which 
 ought to decide upon the affair, no matter what j suppose, 
 I say, that the truth being found and proclaimed, all un- 
 derstandings should be at once convinced ; all wills 
 at once determined ; that all should acknowledge that 
 the government was right, and obey it spontaneously. 
 There is nothing yet of compulsion, no occasion for 
 the employment of force. Does it follow then that a 
 government does not exist 1 Is there nothing of gov- 
 ernment in all this % To be sure there is, and it has 
 accomplished its task. Compulsion appears not till the 
 resistance of individuals calls for it — till the idea, the 
 decision which authority has adopted, fails to obtain the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 121 
 
 ^ipprobation or the voluntary submission of all. Then 
 government employs force to make itself obej^ed. This 
 is a necessary consequence of human imperfection j an 
 imperfection which resides as well in power as in society. 
 There is no way of entirely avoiding this j civil govern- 
 ments will always be obliged to have recourse, to a cer- 
 tain degree, to compulsion. Still it is evident they are 
 not made up of compulsion, because, whenever they can, 
 they are glad to do without it, to the great blessing of all ; 
 and their highest point of perfection is to be able to dis- 
 card it, and to trust to means purely moral, to their influ- 
 ence upon the understanding : so that, in proportion as 
 government can dispense with compulsion and force, the 
 more faithful it is to its true nature, and the better it ful- 
 fils the purpose for which it is sent. This is not to shrink, 
 this is not to give way, as people commonly cry out ; it 
 is merely acting in a different manner, in a manner much 
 more general and powerful. Thoge governments which 
 employ the most compulsion perform much less than those 
 which scarcely ever have recourse to it. Government, 
 by addressing itself to the understanding, by engaging 
 the free will of its subjects, by acting by means purely 
 intellectual, instead of contracting, expands and elevates 
 itself 5 it is then that it accomplishes most, and attains to 
 the grandest objects. On the contrary, it is when gov- 
 ernment is obliged to be constantly employing its physical 
 arm that it becomes weak and restrained — that it does 
 little, and does that little badly. 
 
 The essence of government then by no means resides 
 in compulsion, in the exercise of brute force ; it consists 
 more especially of a system of means and powers, con- 
 ceived for the purpose of discovering upon all occasions 
 what is best to be done, for the purpose of discovering 
 the truth which by right ought to govern society, for the 
 purpose of persuading all men to acknowledge this truth, 
 
 11 
 
122 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 to adopt and respect it willingly and freely. Thus I think 
 I have shown that the necessity for. and the existence of 
 a government, are very conceivable, even though there 
 should be no room for compulsion, even though it should 
 be absolutely forbidden. • 
 
 This is exactly the case in the government of religious 
 society. There is no doubt but compulsion is here strict- 
 ly forbidden ; there can be no doubt, as its only territorj^ 
 is the conscience of man, but that every species of force 
 must be illegal, whatever may be the end designed. But 
 government does not exist the less on this account. 
 It still has to perform all the duties which we have just 
 now enumerated. It is incumbent upon it to seek out the 
 religious doctrines which resolve the problems of human 
 destiny ; or if a general system of faith beforehand ex- 
 ists, in which these problems are already resolved, it will 
 be its duty to discover and set forth its consequences in 
 each particular case. It will be its duty to promulgate 
 and maintain the precepts which correspond to its doc- 
 trines. It will be its duty to preach them, to teach them, 
 and, if society wanders from them, to bring it back again 
 to the right path. No compulsion ; but the investigation, 
 the preaching, the teaching of religious truths ; the ad- 
 ministering to religious wants ; admonishing; censuring 5 
 this is the task which religious government has to per- 
 form. Suppress all force and coercion as much as you 
 desire, still you will see all the essential questions con- 
 nected with the organization of a government present 
 themselves before you, and demand a solution. The 
 question, for example, whether a body of religious ma- 
 gistrates is necessary, or whether it is possible to trust to 
 the religious inspiration of individuals 1 This question, 
 which is a subject of debate between most religious soci- 
 eties and that of the Quakers, will always exist, it must 
 always remain a matter of discussion. Again, granting 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 123 
 
 a body of religious magistrates to be necessary, the ques- 
 tion arises whether a system of equality is to be prefer- 
 red, or an hierarchal constitution — a graduated series of 
 powers^ This question will not cease because you take 
 from, the ecclesiastical magistrates, whatever they may 
 be, all means of compulsion. Instead then of dissolving 
 religious society in order to hav^e the right to destroy 
 religious government, it must be acknowledged that reli- 
 gious society forms itself naturally, that religious govern- 
 ment flows no less naturally from religious society, and 
 that the problem to be solved is on what conditions this 
 government ought to exist, on what it is based, what are 
 its principles, what the conditions of its legitimacy ] This 
 is the investigation which the existence of religious gov- 
 ernment, as of all others, compels us to undertake. 
 
 The conditions of legitimacy are the same in the gov- 
 ernment of a religious society as in all others. — They 
 may be reduced to two : the first is, that authority should 
 be placed and constantly remain, as effectually at least as 
 the imperfection of all human affairs will permit, in the 
 hands of the best, the most capable ; so that the legiti- 
 mate superiority, which lies scattered in various parts of 
 society, may be thereby drawn out, collected, and dele- 
 gated to discover the social law — to exercise its authority. 
 The second is, that the authority thus legitimately consti- 
 tuted should respect the legitimate liberties of those over 
 whom it is called to govern. A good system for the for- 
 mation and organization of authority, a good system of 
 securities for liberty, are the two conditions in which the 
 goodness of government in general resides, whether civil 
 or religious. And it is by this standard that all govern- 
 ments should be judged. 
 
 Instead, then, of reproaching the Church, the govern- 
 ment of the Christian world, with its existence, let us 
 examine how it was constituted, and see whether itsprin- 
 
124 
 
 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 ciples correspond with the two essential conditions of all 
 good government. 
 
 Let us examine the Church in this twofold point of 
 view\ 
 
 In the first place, with regard to the formation and 
 transmission of authority in the Church, there is a word, 
 which has often been made use of, which I wish to get rid 
 of altogether. I mean the word caste. This word has 
 been too frequently applied to the Christian clergy, but its 
 application to that body is both improper and unjust. The 
 idea of hereditary right is inherent to the idea of caste. 
 In every part of the w^orld, in every country inw^hich the 
 system of caste has prevailed — in Egypt, in India — from 
 the earliest times to the present day — ^you will find that 
 castes have been everywhere essentially hereditary : they 
 are, in fact, the transmission of the same rank and condi- 
 tion, of the same power, from father to son. Now 
 where there is no inheritance there is no caste, but a cor- 
 poration. The esprit de corjjs, or that certain degree of 
 love and interest which every individual of an order feels 
 tow^ards it as a whole, as well as towards all its members, 
 has its inconveniences, but differs very essentially from 
 the spirit of caste (esprit de caste). The celibacy of the 
 clergy of itself renders the application of this term to 
 the Christian Church altogether improper. 
 
 The important consequences of this distinction cannot 
 have escaped you. To the system of castes, to the cir- 
 cumstance of inheritance, certain peculiar privileges are 
 necessarily attached ; the very definition of caste implies 
 this. Where the same functions, the same powers become 
 hereditary in the same families, it is evident that they pos- 
 sess peculiar privileges, which none can acquire independ- 
 ently of birth. This is indeed exactly w^hat has taken place 
 whereA'er the religious government has fallen into the 
 hands of a caste ; it has become a matter of privilege j all 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 125 
 
 were shut out from it but those who belonged to the families 
 of the caste. Now nothing like this is to be found in the 
 Christian Church. Not only is the Church entirely free 
 from this fault, but she has constantly maintained the 
 principle, that all men, whatever their origin, are equally 
 privileged to enter her ranks, to fill her highest offices, to 
 enjoy her proudest dignities. The ecclesiastical career, 
 particularly from the fifth to the twelfth century, was open 
 to all. The Church was recruited from all ranks of soci- 
 ety, from the lower as well as the higher, indeed most 
 frequently from the lower. When all around her fell un- 
 der the tyranny of privilege, she alone maintained the 
 principlfe of equality, of competition and emulation ; she 
 alone called the superior of all classes {toutes les superiori' 
 tes legitimes) to the possession of power. This is the 
 first great consequence which naturally flowed from the 
 fact that the Church was a corporation and not a caste. 
 
 I will show you a second. It is the inherent nature of 
 all castes to possess a degree of immobility. This asser- 
 tion requires no proof. Turn over the pages of history, 
 and you will find that wherever the tyranny of castes has 
 predominated, society, whether religious or political, has 
 universally become sluggish and torpid. A dread of im- 
 provement was certainly introduced at a certain epoch, 
 and up to a certain point, into the Christian Ckurch. But 
 whatever regret this may cost us, it cannot be said that this 
 feeling ever generally prevailed. It cannot be said that 
 the Christian Church ever remained inactive and station- 
 ary. For a long course of centuries she was always in 
 motion j at one time pushed forward by her opponents 
 without, at others driven on by an inward impulse — by 
 the want of reform, or of interior development. The 
 Church, indeed, taken as a whole, has been constantly 
 changing — constantly advancing — her history is diversi- 
 fied and progressive. Can it be doubted that she was in* 
 
 11* 
 
126 GE>-ERAL HISTOHY OF 
 
 debted for this to the admission of all classes to the 
 priestly offices, to the continual filling up of her ranks, 
 upon a principle of equality, by v.hich a stream of young 
 and vigorous blood was ever flowing into her veins, keep- 
 ing her unceasingly active and stirring, and defending 
 her from the reproach of apathy and immobility which 
 might otherwise have triumphed over her 1 
 
 But how did the Church, in admitting all classes to pow- 
 er, satisfy herself that they had the right to be so admitted 1 
 How did she discover and proceed in taking from the bo- 
 som of society, the legitimate superiorities who should 
 have a share in her government 1 In the Church two prin- 
 ciples were in full vigour : first, the election of the inferior 
 by the superior, which, in fact, was nothing niare than 
 choice or nomination ; secondly, the election of the supe- 
 rior by the subordinates, or election properly so called, 
 and such as we conceive to be election in the present day. 
 The ordination of priests, for example, the power of rais- 
 ing a man to the priestly office, rested solely w^iththe supe- 
 rior. He alone made choice of the candidate for holy or- 
 ders. The case was the same in the collation to certain 
 ecclesiastical benefices, such as those attached to feudal 
 grants, and some others j it was the superior, whether king, 
 pope, or lord, who nominated to the benefice. In other 
 cases the true principle cf election prevailed. The bishops 
 had been, for a long time, and were still, often, in the pe- 
 riod under consideration, elected by the inferior clergy j 
 even the people sometimes took part in them. In monas- 
 teries the abbot was elected by the monks. At Rome, 
 the pope was elected by the college of cardinals ; and, at 
 an earlier date, even all the Roman clergy had a voice in 
 his election. You may here clearly observe, then, the two 
 principles, the choice of the inferior by the superior, and 
 the election of the superior by the subordinates ; which 
 were admitted and acted upon in the Church, particularly 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 127 
 
 at the period which now engages our attention. It was bv 
 one of these two means that men were appointed to the 
 various offices in the Church, or obtained any portion of 
 ecclesiastical authority. 
 
 These two principles were not only in operation at the 
 same time, but being altogether opposite in their nature, 
 a constant struggle prevailed between them. After a 
 strife for centuries, after many vicissitudes, the nomina- 
 tion of the inferior by the superior gained the day in the 
 Christian Church. Yet, from the fifth to the twelfth cen- 
 turj', the opposite principle, the election of the superior 
 by the subordinates, continued generally to prevail. 
 
 We must not be astonished at the co-existence of these 
 two opposite principles. If we look at society in general, 
 at the common course of affairs, at the manner in which 
 authority is there transmitted, w^e shall find that this 
 transmission is sometimes effected by one of these modes, 
 and sometimes the other. The Church did not invent 
 them, she found them in the providential government of 
 human things, and borrowed them from it. There is some- 
 what of truth, of utility, in both. Their combination would 
 often prove the best mode of discovering legitimate power. 
 It is a great misfortune, in my opinion, that only one of 
 them, the choice of the inferior by the superior, should 
 have been victorious in the Church. The second, however, 
 w^as never entirely banished, but under various names, with 
 more or less success, has re-appeared in every epoch, wnth 
 at least sufficient force to protest against, and interrupt, 
 prescription. 
 
 The Christian Church, at the period of wdiich we are 
 speaking, derived an immense force from its respect for 
 equality and the various kinds of legitimate superiority. 
 It was the most popular society of the time — the most 
 accessible ; it alone opened its arms to all the talents, to 
 all the ambitiously noble of our race. To this, above all, 
 
l28 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 it owed its greatness, at least certainly much more than 
 to its riches, and the illegitimate means which it but too 
 often employed. 
 
 With regard to the second condition of a good govern- 
 ment, namely, a respect for liberty, that of the Church 
 leaves much to be desired. 
 
 Two bad principles here met together. One avowed, 
 forming part and parcel, as it were, of the doctrines of 
 the Church ; the other, in no way a legitimate conse- 
 quence of her doctrines, was introduced into her bosom 
 by human weakness. 
 
 The first was a denial of the rights of individual reason 
 — the claim of transmitting points of faith from the high- 
 est authority, downwards, throughout the whole religious 
 body, without allowing to any one the right of examining 
 them for himself. But it was more easy to lay this down 
 as a principle than to carry it out in practice ; and the 
 reason is obvious, for a conviction cannot enter into the 
 human mind unless the human mind first opens the door 
 to it ; it cannot enter by force. In whatever way it may 
 present itself, whatever name it may invoke, reason looks 
 to it, and if it forces an entrance, it is because reason is 
 satisfied. Thus individual reason has always continued 
 to exist, and under w^hatever name it may have been dis- 
 guised, has always considered and reflected upon the ideas 
 which have been attempted to be forced upon it. Still, 
 however, it must be admitted but as too true, that reason 
 often becomes impaired ; that she loses her power, be- 
 comes mutilated and contracted — that she may be brought 
 not only to make a sorry use of her faculties, but to make 
 a more limited use of them than she ought to do. So 
 far indeed the bad principle which crept into the Church 
 took effect, but with regard to the practical and complete 
 operation of this principle, it never took place — it was 
 infipossible it ever should. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 129 
 
 The second vicious principle was the right of compul- 
 sion assumed by the Romish church 5 a right, however, 
 contrary to the very nature and spirit of religious society, 
 to the origin of the Church itself, and to its primitive 
 maxims. A right, too, disputed by some of the most 
 illustrious fathers of the Church — by St. Ambrose, St. 
 Hilary', St. Martin, — but which, nevertheless, prevailed 
 and became an important feature in its history. The 
 right it assumed of forcing belief, if these two words can 
 stand together, or of punishing faith physically, of perse- 
 cuting heresy, that is to say, a contempt for the legitimate 
 liberty of human thought, was an error which found its 
 way into the Romish church before the beginning of the 
 fifth century, and has in the end cost her very dear. 
 
 If then we consider the state of the Church with regard 
 to the liberty of its members, v*'e must confess that its prin- 
 ciples in this respect were less legitimate, less salutary, 
 than those which presided at the rise and formation of ec- 
 clesiastical power. It must not, however, be supposed, 
 that a bad principle radically vitiates an institution ; nor 
 even that it does it all the mischief of which it is pregnant. 
 Nothing tortures history more than logic. No sooner 
 does the human mind seize upon an idea, than it draws 
 from it all its possible consequences ; makes it produce, in 
 imagination, all that it would in reality be capable of pro- 
 ducing, and then figures it down in history with all the ex- 
 travagant additions which itself has conjured up. This 
 however is nothing like the truth. Events are not so 
 prompt in their consequences, as the human mind in its 
 deductions. There is in all things a mixture of good and 
 evil, so profound, so inseparable, that, in whatever part 
 you penetrate, if even you descend to the lowest elements' 
 of society, or into the soul itself, you will there find these 
 two principles dwelling together, developing themselves 
 gide by side, perpetually struggling and quarrelling with 
 
130 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 each other, but neither of them ever obtaining a complete 
 victory, or absohitely destroying its fellow. Human na- 
 ture never reaches to the extreme either of good, or evil. 
 It passes, without ceasing, from one to the other ; it 
 recovers itself at the moment when it seems lost for ever. 
 It slips and loses ground at the moment when it seems to 
 have assumed the firmest position. 
 
 We again discover here that character of discordance, 
 of diversity, of strife, to which I formerly called your at- 
 tention, as the fundamental character of European civili- 
 zation. Besides this, there is another general fact which 
 characterizes the government of the Church, which we 
 must not pass over without notice. In the present day, 
 when the idea of government presents itself to our 
 mind, we know, of whatever kind it may be, that it will 
 scarcely pretend to any authority beyond the outward ac- 
 tions of men, beyond the civil relations between man and 
 maiT. Governments do not profess to carry their rule 
 further than this. With regard to human thought, to the 
 human conscience, to the intellectual powers of man ; 
 with regard to individual opinions, to private morals, — 
 with these they do not interfere : this would be to invade 
 the domain of liberty. 
 
 The Christian Church did, and was bent upon doing, 
 exactly the contrary. What she undertook to govern was 
 the human thought, human' liberty, private morals, individ- 
 ual opinions She did not draw up a code like ours, which 
 took account only of those crimes that are at the same time 
 offensive to morals and dangerous to society, punishing 
 them only when, and because, they bore this twofold char- 
 acter ; but prepared a catalogue of all those actions, crimi- 
 nal more particularly in a moral point of view, and punished 
 them all under the name of sins. Her aim was their 
 entire suppression. In a word, the government of the 
 Church did not, like our modern governments, direct her 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 131 
 
 attention to the outward man, or to the purely civil rela- 
 tions of men among themselves, she addressed herself to 
 the inward man, to the thought, to the conscience; in fact, 
 to that which of all things is most hidden and secure, most 
 free, and Avhich spurns the least restraint. The Church, 
 then, by the yery nature of its undertaking, combined with 
 the nature of some of the principles upon which its govern- 
 ment was founded, stood in great peril of falling into tyran- 
 ny ; of an illegitimate employment of force. In the mean 
 time, this force was encountered by a resistance w^ithin the 
 Church itself, which it could never overcome. Human 
 thought and liberty, however fettered, however confined 
 for room and space in which to exercise their faculties, 
 oppose with so much energy every attempt to enslave 
 them, that their reaction makes even despotism itself to 
 yield, and give up something every moment. This took 
 place in the very bosom of the Christian Church. We 
 have seen heresy proscribed — the right of free inquiry con- 
 demned ; a contempt shown for individual reason, the 
 principle of the imperative transmission of doctrines by 
 human authority established. And yet where can we find 
 a society in which individual reason more boldly developed 
 itself than in the Church 1 What are sects and heresies, if 
 not the fruit of individual opinions 1 These sects, these 
 heresies, all these oppositions which arose in the Christian 
 Church, are the most decisive proof of the life and moral 
 activity which reigned w^ithin her : a life stormy, painful, 
 sown with perils, w4th errors and crimes — yet splendid 
 and mighty, and which has given place to the noblest deve- 
 lopments of intelligence and mind. But leaving the opposi- 
 tion, and looking to the ecclesiastical government itself — 
 how does the case stand here 1 You will find it constituted, 
 you will find it acting, in a manner quite opposite to what 
 you would expect from some of its principles. It denies 
 the right of inquiry, it wishes to deprive individual reason 
 
132 GEiXERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 of its liberty ; yet it appeals to reason incessantly ; practi^ 
 cal liberty actually predominates in its affairs; What are 
 its institutions, its means of action 1 Provincial councils, 
 national councils, general councils ; a perpetual correspon- 
 dence, a perpetual publication of letters, of admonitions, 
 of writings. No government ever went so far in discus- 
 sions and open deliberations. One might fancy one's self in 
 the midst of the philosophical schools of Greece. But it 
 was not here a mere discussion, it was not a simple 
 search after truth that here occupied the attention; it 
 was questions of authority, of measures to be taken, of 
 decrees to be drawn up, in short, the business of a gov- 
 ernment. Such indeed was the energy of intellectual 
 life in the bosom of this government, that it became its 
 predominant, universal character ; to this all others gave 
 way ; and that which shone forth from all its parts, was 
 the exercise of reason and liberty. 
 
 I am far, notwithstanding all this, from believing that 
 the vicious principles, which I have endeavoured to ex- 
 plain, and which, in my opinion, existed in the Christian 
 Church, existed there without producing any effect. In 
 the period now under review, they already bore very bit- 
 ter fruits ; at a later period they bore others still more 
 bitter ; still they did not produce all the evils which might 
 have been expected, they did not choke the good which 
 sprang up in the same soil. 
 
 Such was the Church considered in itself, in its interior, 
 in its own nature. Let us now consider it, in its relations 
 with sovereigns, with the holders of temporal authority. 
 This is the second point of view in which I have promised 
 to consider it. 
 
 When at the fall of the western empire, when, instead of 
 the ancient Roman government, under which the Church 
 had been born, under which she had grown up, with which 
 she ha'^ common habits and old connections, she found her- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 133 
 
 self surrounded by barbarian kings, by barbarian chieftains, 
 wandering from place to place, or shut up in their castles, 
 with whom she had nothing in common, between whom 
 and her there was as yet no tie -neither traditions, nor 
 creeds, nor feelings ; her danger appeared great, and her 
 fears were equally so. 
 
 One only idea became predominant in the Church, it 
 was to take possession of these new-comers — to convert 
 them. The relations of the Church with the barbarians 
 had, at first, scarcely any other aim. 
 
 To gain these barbarians, the most effective means 
 seemed to be to dazzle their senses, and work upon their 
 imagination. Thus it came to pass that the number, 
 pomp, and variety of religious ceremonies were at this 
 epoch wonderfully increased. The ancient chronicles 
 particularly show, that it v/as principally in this way that 
 the Church worked upon the barbarians. She converted 
 them by grand spectacles. 
 
 But even when they had become settled and converted, 
 even after the growth of some common ties between them, 
 the danger of the Church was not over. The brutality, the 
 unthinking, the unreflecting character of the barbarians 
 were so great, that the new faith, the new feelino-s with 
 which they had been inspired, exercised but a very slight 
 empire over them. AVhen every part of society fell a prey 
 to violence, the Church could scarcely hope altogether to 
 escape. To save herself she announced a principle, which 
 had already been set up, though but very vaguely, under 
 the empire; the separation of spiritual and temporal power 
 and their mutual independence. It was by the aid of this 
 principle that the Church dwelt freely by the side of the 
 barbarians ; she maintained that force had no authority 
 over religious belief, hopes, or promises, and that the 
 spiritual and temporal worlds are completely distinct. 
 
 You cannot fail to see at once the beneficial conse- 
 12 
 
134 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 quences which have resulted from this principle. Inde- 
 pendently of the temporary service it was of to the Church, 
 it has had the inestimable effect of founding injustice the 
 separation of the two authorities, of preventing one from 
 controlling the other. In addition to this, the Church, by 
 asserting the independence of the intellectual w^orld, in its 
 collective form, prepared the independence of the intel- 
 lectual world in individuals — the independence of thought. 
 The Church declared that the system of religious belief 
 could not be brought under the yoke of force, and each 
 individual has been led to hold the same language for 
 himself. The principle of free inquiry, the liberty of in- 
 dividual thought, is exactly the same as that of the inde- 
 pendence of the spiritual authority in general, with regard 
 to temporal powder. 
 
 The desire for liberty, unfortunately, is but a step from 
 the desire for power. The Church soon passed from one 
 to the other. When she had established her independence, 
 it was in accordance with the natural course of ambition 
 that she should attempt to raise her spiritual authority 
 above temporal authority. We must not, however, sup- 
 pose that this claim had any other origin than the weak- 
 nesses of humanity ; some of these are very profound, and 
 it is of importance that they should be known. 
 
 When liberty prevails in the intellectual world, when 
 the thoughts and consciences of men are not enthralled by 
 a power which calls in question their right of deliberating, 
 of deciding, and employs its authority against them ; when 
 there is no visible constituted spiritual government laying 
 claim to the right of dictating opinions ; in such circum- 
 stances, the idea of the domination of the spiritual order 
 over the temporal could scarcely spring up. Such is very 
 nearly the present state of the world. But when there 
 exists, as there did in the tenth century, a government of 
 the spiritual order ; when the human thought and con- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 135 
 
 science are subject to certain laws, to certain institutions, 
 to certain authorities, which have arrogated to themselves 
 the right to govern, to constrain them ; in short, when 
 spiritual authority is established, when it has effectively- 
 taken possession, in the name of right and power, of the 
 human reason and conscience, it is natural that it should 
 go on to assume a domination over the temporal order ; 
 that it should argue: "What ! have I a right, have I an 
 authority over that which is most elevated, most indepen- 
 dent in man — over his thoughts, over his interior will, over 
 his conscience ; and have I not a right over his exterior, his 
 temporal and material interests 1 Am I the interpreter of 
 divine justice and truth, and yet not able to regulate the 
 affairs of this world according to justice and truth V The 
 force of this l*easoning shows that the spiritual order had 
 a natural tendency to encroach on the temporal. This 
 tendency was increased by the fact, that the spiritual or- 
 der, at this time, comprised all the intelligence of the age, 
 every possible development of the human mind. There 
 was but one science, theology ; but one spiritual order, the 
 theological : all the other sciences, rhetoric, arithmetic, 
 and even music, centered in theology. 
 
 The spiritual power finding itself thus in possession of 
 all the intelligence of the age, at the head of all intellect- 
 ual activity, was naturally enough led to arrogate to itself 
 the general government of the world. 
 
 A second cause, which very much favoured its views, 
 was the dreadful state of the temporal order, the violence 
 and iniquity which prevailed in all temporal governments. 
 
 For some centuries past men might speak, with a degree 
 of confidence, of temporal power ; but temporal power, at 
 the epoch of which we are speaking, was mere brutal force, 
 a system of rapine and violence. The Church, howev^er 
 imperfect might be her notions of morality and justice, was 
 infinitely superior to a temporal government such as this j 
 
136 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 and the cry of the people continually urged her to take its 
 place. When a pope or bishop proclaimed that a sove- 
 reign had lost his rights, that his subjects were released 
 from their oath of fidelity, this interference, though un- 
 doubtedly liable to the greatest abuses, was often, in the 
 particular case to which it was directed, just and salutary. 
 It generally holds, indeed, that where liberty is wanting, 
 religion, in a great measure, supplies its place. In the 
 tenth century, the oppressed nations were not in a state 
 to protect themselves, to defend their rights against civil 
 violence — religion, in the name of Heaven, placed itself 
 between them. This is one of the causes which most 
 contributed to the success of the usurpations of the 
 Church. There is a third cause, which, in my opinion, 
 has not been sufficiently noticed. This is the manifold 
 character and situation of the leaders of the Church ; the 
 variety of aspects under which they appeared in society. 
 On one side they were prelates, members of the ecclesi- 
 astical order, a portion of the spiritual power, and as such 
 independent : on the other, they were vassals, and by this 
 title formed one of the links of civil feudalism. But this 
 was not all : besides being vassals, they Avere also sub- 
 jects. Something similar to the ancient relations in which 
 the bishops and clergy had stood towards the Roman em- 
 perors now existed between the clergy and the barbarian 
 sovereigns. A series of causes, which it would be tedious 
 to detail, had brought the bishops to look upon the barba- 
 rian kings, to a certain degree, as the successors of the 
 Roman emperors, and to attribute to them the same 
 rights. The heads of the clergy then had a threefold 
 character : they were ecclesiastics, and as such held to 
 the performance of certain duties; thirdly, they were 
 mere subjects, and as such bound to render obedience to 
 an absolute sovereign. Observe the necessary conse- 
 quence of this, The temporal sovereigns, no whit less 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 137 
 
 covetous, no whit less ambitious than the bishops, fre- 
 quently made use of their temporal power, as superiors or 
 sovereigns, to attack the independence of the Church, to 
 usurp the right of collating to benefices, of nominating to 
 bishopricks, and so on. On the other side, the bishops 
 often sheltered themselves under their spiritual indepen- 
 dence to refuse the performance of their obligations as 
 vassals and subjects ; so that on both sides there was an 
 inevitable tendency to trespass on the rights of the other: 
 on the side of the sovereigns, to destroy spiritual inde- 
 pendence ; on the side of the heads of the Church, to make 
 their spiritual independence the means of universal do- 
 minion. 
 
 This result showed itself sufficiently plain in events 
 well known to you all 5 in the quarrel respecting investi- 
 tures ; in the struggle between the Holy See and the Em- 
 pire. The threefold character of the heads of the Church, 
 and the difficulty of preventing them from trespassing on 
 one another, was the real cause of the uncertainty and 
 strife of all its pretensions. 
 
 Finally, the Church had a third connexion with the sove- 
 reigns, and it was to her the most disastrous and fatal. She 
 laid claim to the right of coercion, to the right of re- 
 straining and punishing heresy. But she had no means 
 by which to do this ; she had no physical force at her 
 disposal : when she had condemned the heretic, she was 
 without the power to carry her sentence into execution. 
 What was the consequence 1 She called to her aid the 
 secular arm ; she had to borrow the power of the civil 
 authority as the means of compulsion. To what a 
 wretched shift was she thus driven by the adoption of the 
 wicked and detestable principles of coercion and perse- 
 cution ! 
 
 I must stop here. There is not sufficient time for us to 
 finish our investigation of the Church. We have still to 
 12* 
 
138 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 consider its relation with the people, the principles which 
 prevailed in its intercourse with them, and Avhat conse- 
 quences resulted from its bearing upon civilization in gen- 
 eral. I shall afterwards endeavour to confirm by history, 
 by facts, by what befell the Church from the fifth to the 
 twelfth century, the inductions which we have dra^\^l from 
 the nature of her institutions and principles. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 139 
 
 LECTURE VI. 
 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 In the present lecture we shall conclude our inquiries 
 respecting the state of the Church. In the last, I stated 
 that I should place it before you in three principal points 
 of view : first, in itself — in its interior constitution and na- 
 ture, as a distinct and independent society : secondly, in 
 its relations with sovereigns, with temporal power ; third- 
 ly, in its relations with the people. Having then been able 
 to accomplish no more than the first two parts of my task, 
 it remains forme to-day to place before you the Church in 
 its relations with the people. I shall endeavour, after I 
 have done this, to sum up this threefold examination, and 
 to give a general judgment respecting the influence of the 
 Church from the fifth to the twelfth century; finally, I 
 shall close this part of my subject by verifying my state- 
 ments by an appeal to facts, by an examination of the his- 
 tory of the Church during this period. 
 
 You will easily understand that, in speaking of the re- 
 lations of the Church with the people, I shall be obliged to 
 confine myself to very general views. It is impossible 
 that I should enter into a detail of the practices of the 
 Church, or recount the daily intercourse of the clergy with 
 their charge. It is the prevailing principles, and the great 
 effects of the system and conduct of the Church towards 
 the body of Christians, that I shall endeavour to bring be- 
 fore you. 
 
 A striking feature, and I am bound to say, a radical vice 
 in the relations of the Church with the people, was the 
 separation of the governors and the governed, which left 
 the governed without any influence upon their govern- 
 
14jO general history of 
 
 ment, which established the independence of the clergy 
 with respect to the general body of Christians. 
 
 It would seem as if this evil was called forth by the state 
 of man and society, for it was introduced into the Christian 
 Church at a very early period. The separation of the cler- 
 gy and the people was not altogether perfected at the time 
 of which we are speaking ; there were certain occasions 
 — the election of bishops, for example — upon which the 
 people, at least sometimes, took part in Church govern- 
 ment. This interference, however, became weaker and 
 weaker, as well as more rare ; even in the second century 
 it had begun rapidly and visibly to decline. Indeed, the 
 tendency of the Church to detach itself from the rest of 
 society, the establishment of the independence of the cler- 
 gy, forms, to a great extent, the history of the Church from 
 its very cradle. 
 
 It is impossible to disguise the fact, that from this cir- 
 cumstance sprang the greater number of abuses, which, 
 from this period, cost the Church so dear ; as well as many 
 others which entered into her system in after-times. We 
 must not, however, impute all its faults to this principle, nor 
 must we regard this tendency to isolation as peculiar to the 
 Christian clergy. There is in the very nature of religious 
 society a powerful inclination to elevate the governors 
 above the governed j to regard them as something distinct, 
 something divine. This is the effect of the mission with 
 which they are charged ; of the character in which they 
 appear before the people. This effect, however, is more 
 hurtful in a religious society than in any other. For with 
 what do they pretend to interfere 1 With the reason and 
 conscience and future destiny of man : that is to say, with 
 that which is the closest locked up ; with that which is most 
 strictly individual, with that which is most free. We can im- 
 agine how, up to a certain point, a man, whatever ill may re- 
 sult from it, may give up the direction of his temporal affairs 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 141 
 
 to an outward authority. We can conceive a notion of 
 that philosopher who, when one told him that his house 
 was on fire, said, " Go and tell my wife ; I never meddle 
 with household affairs." But when our conscience, our 
 thoughts, our intellectual existence are at stake — to give 
 lip the government of one's self, to deliver over one's 
 very soul to the authority of a stranger, is, indeed, a mo- 
 ral suicide : is, indeed, a thousand times worse than 
 bodily servitude — than to become a mere appurtenance of 
 the soil. 
 
 Such, nevertheless, was the evil, which without ever, as 
 I shall presently show, completely prevailing, invaded 
 more and more the Christian Church in its relations with 
 the people. We have already seen, that even in the bo- 
 som of the Church itself, the lower orders of the clergy 
 had no guarantee for their liberty ; it was much worse, 
 out of the Church, for the laity. Among churchmen 
 there was at least discussion, deliberation, the display of 
 individual faculties ; the struggle, itself, supplied in some 
 measure the place of liberty. There was nothing, how- 
 ever, like this between the clergy and the people. The 
 laity had no further share in the government of the 
 Church than as simple lookers-on. Thus we see quickly 
 shoot up and thrive, the idea that theology, that religious 
 questions and affairs, were the privileged territory of the 
 clergy ; that the clergy alone had the right, not only to 
 decide upon all matters respecting it, but likewise that 
 they alone had the right to study it, and that the laity 
 ought not to intermeddle with it. At the period of which 
 we are now speaking, this theory had fully established its 
 authority, and it has required ages, and revolutions full of 
 terror, to overcome it; to restore to the public the right 
 of debating religious questions, and inquiring into their 
 truths. 
 
 In principle, then, as well as in fact, the legal separa- 
 
142 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 tion of the clergy and the laity was nearly completed 
 before the twelfth century. 
 
 It must not, however, be understood, that the Christian 
 world had no influence upon its government during this 
 period. Of legal interference it was destitute, but not of 
 influence. It is, indeed, almost impossible that such 
 should be the case under any kind of government, and 
 more particularly so of one founded upon the common 
 opinions and belief of the governing and governed. For, 
 wherever this community of ideas springs up and expands, 
 wherever the same intellectual movement carries onward 
 for government and the people, there necessarily becomes 
 formed between them a tie, which no vice in their organ- 
 ization can ever altogether break. To make you clearly 
 understand what I mean, I will give you an example, 
 familiar to us all, taken from the political world. At no 
 period in the history of France had the French nation 
 less power of a legal nature, I mean by way of institu- 
 tions, of interfering in the government, than in the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries, during the reigns of 
 Louis XIV. and XV. All the direct and official means by 
 which the people could exercise any authority had been 
 cut ofl'and suppressed. Yet there cannot be a doubt but 
 that the public, the country, exercised, at this time, more 
 influence upon the government than at any other, more, 
 for example, than when the states-general had been fre- 
 quently convoked ; than when the parliaments intermed- 
 dled to a considerable extent in politics, than when the 
 people had a much greater legal participation in the gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 It must have been observed by all that there exists a 
 power which no law can comprise or suppress, and which, 
 in times of need, goes even further than institutions. Call 
 it the spirit of the age, public intelligence, opinion, or 
 what you will, you cannot doubt its existence. In France, 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 143 
 
 during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this pub- 
 lic opinion was more pov\'erful than at any other epoch ; 
 and, though it was deprived of the legal means of acting 
 upon the government, yet it acted indirectly, by the force 
 of ideas common to the governing and the governed, by 
 the absolute necessity under which the governing found 
 themselves of attending to the opinions of the governed. 
 What took place in the Church from the fifth to the 
 twelfth century was very similar to this. The body of 
 the Christian world, it is true, had no legal means of ex- 
 pressing its desires ; but there was a great advancement 
 of mind in religious matters : this movement bore along 
 clergy and laity together, and in this way the people acted 
 upon the Church. 
 
 It is of the greatest importance that these indirect in- 
 fluences should be kept in view in the study of history. 
 They are much more efficacious, and often more salutary, 
 than we take them to be. It is very natural that men 
 should wish their influence to be prompt and apparent : 
 that they should covet the credit of promoting success, of 
 establishing power, of procuring triumph. But this is not 
 always either possible or useful. There are times and 
 situations w^hen the indirect, unperceived influence is more 
 beneflcial, more practicable. Let me borrow another 
 illustration from politics. We know that the English 
 parliament more than once, and particularly in 1641, de- 
 manded, as many other popular assemblies have done in 
 such cases, the power to nominate the ministers and great 
 officers of the cro\vn. The immense direct force which 
 by this means it Avould exercise upon the government was 
 regarded as a precious guarantee. But how has it turned 
 out 1 Why, in the few cases in which it has been permit- 
 ted to possess this power, the result has been always un- 
 favourable. The choice has been badly concerted j affairs 
 badly conducted. But what is the case in the present 
 
144. GExNERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 day 1 Is it not the influence of the two houses of par- 
 liament which determines the choice of ministers, and 
 the nomination to all the great offices of state \ And, 
 though this influence be indirect and general, it is found 
 to work better than the direct interference of parliament, 
 which has always terminated badly. 
 
 There is one reason why this should be so, which I 
 must beg leave to lay before yon, at the expense of a few 
 minutes of your time. The direct action upon govern- 
 ment supposes those to whom it is confided possessed of 
 superior talents — of superior information, understanding, 
 and prudence. As they go to the object at once, and per 
 saltern as it were, they must be sure not to miss their mark. 
 Indirect influences, on the contrary, pursuing a tortuous 
 course — only arriving at their object through numerous 
 difficulties — become rectified and adapted to their end by 
 the very obstacles they have to encounter. Before they 
 can succeed, they must undergo discussion, be combated 
 and controlled ; their triumph is slow, conditional, and 
 partial. It is on this account that where society is not 
 sufficiently advanced to make it prudent to place immedi- 
 ate power in the hands of the people, these indirect influ- 
 ences, though often insufficient, are nevertheless to be 
 preferred. It was by such that the Christian world acted 
 upon its government ; — acted, I must allow, very inade- 
 quately — by far too little ; but still it is something that it 
 acted at all. 
 
 There was another thing which strengthened the tie 
 between the clergy and laity. This was the dispersion 
 of the clergy into every part of the social system. In 
 almost all other cases, where a church has been formed 
 independent of the people whom it governed, the body of 
 priests has been composed of men in nearly the same 
 condition of life. I do not mean that the inequalities of 
 rank were not sufficiently great among them, but that the 
 
v^IVILIZATION in modern EtJROPE. 145 
 
 power was lodged in the hands of colleges of priests living 
 in common, and governing the people submitted to their 
 laws, from the innermost recess of some sacred temple. 
 The organization of the Christian Church was widely dif- 
 ferent. From the thatched cottage of the husbandman — 
 from the miserable hut of the serf at the foot of the feu- 
 dal chateau to the palace of the monarch — there was 
 everywhere a clergyman. This diversity in the situation 
 of the Christian priesthood, their participation in all the 
 varied fortunes of humanity — of common life — was a 
 great bond of union between the laity and clergy ; a bond 
 which has been wanting in most other hierarchies invested 
 with power. Besides this, the bishops, the heads of the 
 Christian clergy, were, as we have seen, mixed up with 
 the feudal system : they were, at the same time, members 
 of the civil and of the ecclesiastical governments. This 
 naturally led to similarity of feeling, of interests, of hab- 
 its, and of manners, in the clergy and laity. There has 
 been a good deal said, and with reason, of military bishops, 
 of priests who led secular lives ; but we may be assured 
 that this evil, however great, was not so hurtful as the 
 system which kept priests for ever locked up in a temple, 
 altogether separated from common life. Bishops who 
 took a share in the cares, and, up to a certain point, in 
 the disorders of civil life, were of more use in society 
 than those who were altogether strangers to the people, 
 to their wants, their affairs, and their manners. In our 
 system there has been, in this respect, a similarity of for- 
 tune, of condition, which, if it have not altogether cor- 
 rected, has, at least, softened the evil which the separa- 
 tion of the governing and governed must in all cases 
 prove. 
 
 Now, having pointed out this separation, having endeav- 
 oured to determine its extent, let us see how the Christian 
 Church governed — let us see in what way it acted upon 
 the people under its authority. 
 
146 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 What did it do, on one hand, for the development of 
 man, for the intellectual progress of the individual 1 
 
 What did it do, on the other, for the melioration of the 
 social system 1 
 
 With regard to individual development, I fear the Church, 
 at this epoch, gave herself but little trouble about it. She 
 endeavoured to soften the rugged manners of the great, 
 and to render them more kind and just in their conduct 
 towards the vi'^eak. She endeavoured to inculcate a life 
 of morality among the poor, and to inspire them with 
 higher sentiments and hopes than the lot in which they 
 were cast would give rise to. I believe not, however, 
 that for individual man — for the drawing forth or advance- 
 ment of his capacities — that the Church did much, espe- 
 cially for the laity, during this period. What she did in 
 this way was confined to the bosom of her own society. 
 For the development of the clergy, for the instruction of 
 the priesthood, she was anxiously alive : to promote this 
 she had her schools, her colleges, and all other institu- 
 tions which the deplorable state of society would permit. 
 These schools and colleges, it is true, were all theologi- 
 cal, and destined for the education of the clergy alone ; 
 and though, from the intimacy between the civil and reli- 
 gious orders, they could not but have some influence upon 
 the rest of the world, it was very slow and indirect. It 
 cannot, indeed, be denied but the Church, too, necessari- 
 ly excited and kept alive a general activity of mind, by 
 the career which she opened to all those whom she judged 
 worthy to enlist into her ranks, but beyond this she did 
 little for the intellectual improvement of the laity. 
 
 For the melioration of the social state, her labours were 
 greater and more efficacious. She combated with much 
 perseverance and pertinacity the great vices of the social 
 condition, particularly slavery. It has been frequently 
 asserted that the abolition of slavery in the modern world 
 must be altogether carried to the credit of Christianity. I 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 147 
 
 believe this is going too far : slavery subsisted for a long 
 time in the bosom of Christian society without much notice 
 being taken of it — without any great outcry against it. To 
 effect its abolition required the co-operation of several 
 causes — a great development of new ideas, of new prin- 
 ciples of civilization. It cannot, however, be denied that 
 the Church employed its influence to restrain it ,• the cler- 
 gy in general, and especially several popes, enforced the 
 manumission of their slaves as a duty incumbent* upon 
 laymen, and loudly inveighed against the scandal of keep- 
 ing Christians in bondage. Again, the greater part of the 
 forms by which slaves were set free, at various epochs, 
 are founded upon religious motives. It is under the im- 
 pression of some religious feeling — the hopes of the 
 future, the equality of all Christian men, and so on — that 
 the freedom of the slave is granted. These, it must be 
 confessed, are rather convincing proofs of the influence 
 of the Church, and of her desire for the abolition of this 
 evil of evils, this iniquity of iniquities ! 
 
 The Church did not labour less worthily for the im- 
 provement of civil and criminal legislation. We know to 
 what a terrible extent, notwithstanding some few princi- 
 ples of liberty, this was absurd and wretched ; we have 
 read of the irrational and superstitious proofs to which 
 the barbarians occasionally had recourse — their trial by 
 battle, their ordeals, their oaths of compurgation — as the 
 only means by which they could discover the truth. To 
 replace these by more rational and legitimate proceedings, 
 the Church earnestly laboured, and laboured not in vain. 
 I have already spoken of the striking difference between 
 the laws of the Visigoths, mostly promulgated by the 
 councils of Toledo, and the codes of the barbarians. It 
 is impossible to compare them without at once admitting 
 the immense superiority of the notions of the Church in 
 matters of jurisprudence, justice, and legislation — in all 
 
148 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 relating to the discovery of truth, and a knowledge of 
 human nature. It must certainly be admitted that the 
 greater part of these notions Avere borrowed from Roman 
 legislation ; but it is not less certain that they would have 
 perished if the Church had not preserved and defended 
 them — if she had not laboured to spread them abroad. If 
 the question, for example, is respecting the employment 
 of oaths, open the laws of the Visigoths, and see with 
 what prudence it controls their use : — 
 
 Let the judge, in order to come at the truth, first interrogate the wit- 
 nesses, then examine the papers, and not allow of oaths too easily. The 
 investigation of truth and justice demands, that the documents on botb 
 sides should be carefully examined, and that ihe necessity of the oath, 
 suspended over the head of both parties, should only CQpie unexpectedly. 
 Let the oath only be adopted in causes in which the jud^e shall be able to 
 discover no written documents, no proof, nor guide to the truth. 
 
 In criminal matters, the punishment is proportioned to 
 the offence, according to tolerably correct notions of phi- 
 losophy, morals, and justice. The efforts of an enlight- 
 ened legislator struggling against the violence and caprice 
 of barbarian manners. The title of ccsde et morte homi- 
 num gives us a very favourable example of this, when 
 compared with the corresponding laws of the other na- 
 tions. Among the latter, it is the damage alone which 
 seems to constitute the crime ; and the punishment is 
 sought for in the pecuniary reparation which is made in 
 compounding for it ; but in the code of the Visigoths the 
 crime is traced to its true and moral principle — the inten- 
 tion of the perpetrator. Various shades of guilt — invol- 
 untary homicide, chance-medley homicide, justifiable 
 homicide, unpremeditated homicide, and wilful murder — 
 are distinguished and defined nearly as accurately as in 
 our modern codes ; the punishments likewise varying, so 
 as to make a fair approximation to justice. The legis- 
 lator, indeed, carried the principle of justice still further. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 149 
 
 He endeavoured, if not to abolish, at least to lessen, that 
 difference of legal value, which the other barbarian laws 
 put upon the life of man. The only distinction here made 
 was between the freeman and the slave. With regard to 
 the freeman, the punishment did not vary either accord- 
 ing to the perpetrator, nor according to the rank of the 
 slain, but only according to the moral guilt of the mur- 
 derer. With regard to slaves, not daring entirely to de- 
 prive masters of the right of life and death, he at least 
 endeavoured to restrain it and destroy its brutal character 
 by subjecting it to an open and regular procedure. 
 
 The law itself is worthy of attention, and I therefore 
 shall give it at length : — 
 
 " If no one who is culpable, or the accomplice in a crime ought to go un- 
 punished, how much more reasonable is ii that those should be restrained 
 who commit homicide maliciously, or from a slight cause! Thus, as 
 masters in their pride often put their slaves to death without any cause, 
 it is proper to extirpate altogether this license, and to decree that the pre- 
 sent law shall be forever binding upon all. No master or mistress shall 
 have power to put to death any of their slaves, male or female, or any of 
 their dependents, without public judgment. If any slave, or other ser- 
 vant, commits a crime which renders them subject to capital punishment, 
 his master or his accuser shall immediately give information to the judge, 
 or count, or duke, of the place in which the crime has been perpetrated. 
 After the matter has been tried, if the crime is proved, let the criminal 
 receive either by the judge or by his own master, the sentence of death 
 which he has merited ; in such manner, however, that if the judge desires 
 not to put the accused to death, he must^draw up against him in writing, 
 a capital sentence, and then it will remain with his master to kill him or 
 grant him his life. But when, indeed, a slave, by a fatal audacity, in 
 resisting his master, shall strike, or attempt to strike him wiih his arm, 
 with a stone, or by any other means; and the master, in defending him- 
 self, kills the slave in his anger, the master shall in nowise be liable to the 
 punishment of homicide. But it will be necessary to prove that the fact 
 has so happened ; and that by the testimony or oath of the slaves, mala 
 or female, who witnessed it, and also by the oath of the person himself 
 who committed the deed. Whosoever from pure malice shall kill a slave 
 himself, or employ another to do so, without his having been publicly 
 tried, shall be considered infamous, shall be declared incapable of giving 
 evidence, shall be banished for life, and his property be given to his near- 
 «9t heirs."— (/^or. Jud. L. VI. tit. V., 1. 12.) 
 
 13* 
 
150 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 There is another circumstance connected with the in- 
 stitutions of the Church, which has not, in general, been 
 so much noticed as it deserves. I allude to its peniten- 
 tiary system, which is the more interesting in the present 
 day, because, so far as the principles and applications of 
 moral law are concerned, it is almost completely in uni- 
 son with the notions of modern philosophy. If we look 
 closely into the nature of the punishments inflicted by the 
 Church at public penance, which was its principal mode 
 of punishing, we shall find that their object was, above all 
 other things, to excite repentance in the soul of the 
 guilty ; in that of the lookers on, the moral terror of ex- 
 ample. But there is another idea which mixes itself up 
 with this — the idea of expiation. I know not, generally 
 speaking, whether it be possible to separate the idea of 
 punishment from that of expiation ; and whether there be 
 not in all punishment, independently of the desire to awa- 
 ken the guilty to repentance, and to deter those from vice 
 who might be under temptation, a secret and imperious 
 desire to expiate the wrong committed. Putting this 
 question, however, aside, it is sufficiently evident that 
 repentance and example were the objects proposed by the 
 Church in every part of its system of penance. And is 
 not the attainment of these very objects the end of every 
 truly philosophical legislation 1 Is it not for the sake of 
 these very principles that the most enlightened lawyers 
 have clamoured for a reform in the penal legislation of 
 Europe '? Open their books — those of Jeremy Bentham 
 for example — and you w411 be astonished at the numerous 
 resemblances which you will everywhere find between 
 their plans of punishment and those adopted by the Church. 
 We may be quite sure that they have not borrowed them 
 from her ; and the Church could scarcely foresee that her 
 example would one day be quoted in support of the sys* 
 tern of philosophers not very remarkable for their devotion . 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 151 
 
 Finallj^, she endeavoured by every means in her power 
 to suppress the frequent recourse which at this period was 
 had to violence, and the continual wars to which society 
 was so prone. It is well known what the truce of God 
 was, as well as a number of other similar measures by 
 which the Church hoped to prevent the employment of 
 physical force, and to introduce into the social system 
 more order and gentleness. The facts under this head 
 are so well known, that I shall not go into any detail con- 
 cerning them. 
 
 Having now run over the principal points to which I 
 wished to draw attention respecting the relations of the 
 Church ta the people ; having now considered it under the 
 three aspects, which I proposed to do, we know it within 
 and without ; in its interior constitution, and in its twofold 
 relations w4th society. It remains for us to deduce from 
 what we have learned, by way of inference, by way of con- 
 jecture, its general influence upon European civilization. 
 This is almost done to our hands. The simple recital of 
 the facts of the predominant principles of the Church, both 
 reveals and explains its influence : the results have in a 
 manner been brought before us with the causes. If, how- 
 ever, we endeavour to sura them up, we shall be led, I 
 think, to two general conclusions. 
 
 The first is, that the Church has exercised a vast and 
 important influence upon the moral and intellectual order 
 of Europe ; upon the notions, sentiments, and manners of 
 society. This fact is evident ; the intellectual and moral 
 progress of Europe has been essentially theological. Look 
 at its history from the fifth to the sixteenth century, and 
 you will find throughout, that theology has possessed and 
 directed the human mind ; every idea is impressed with 
 theology ; every question that has been started, w^hether 
 philosophical, political, or historical, has been considered 
 in a religious point of view. So powerful, indeed, has 
 
152 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 been the authority of the Church in matters of intellect, 
 that even the mathematical and physical sciences have 
 been obliged to submit to its doctrines. The spirit of 
 theology has been as it were the blood which has circu- 
 lated in the veins of the European world down to the time 
 of Bacon and Descartes. Bacon in England, and Des- 
 cartes in France, were the first who carried the human 
 mind out of the pale of theology. 
 
 We shall find the same fact hold if we travel through 
 the regions of literature : the habits, the sentiments, the 
 language of theology there show themselves at every step. 
 
 This influence, taken altogether, has been salutary. It 
 not only kept up and ministered to the intellectual move- 
 ment in Europe, but the system of doctrines and precepts, 
 by whose authority it stamped its impress upon that move- 
 ment, was incalculably superior to any which the ancient 
 world had known. 
 
 The influence of the Church, moreover, has given to the 
 development of the human mind, in our modern world, aa 
 extent and variety which it never possessed elsewhere. 
 In the East, intelligence was altogether religious : among 
 the Greeks, it was almost exclusively human : there human 
 culture — humanitj^, properly so called, its nature and des- 
 tiny — actually disappeared j here it was man alone, his 
 passions, his feelings, his present interests, which occupied 
 the field. In our world the spirit of religion mixes itself 
 with all but excludes nothing. Human feelings, human 
 interests, occupy a considerable space in every branch of 
 our literature ; yet the religious character of man, that 
 portion of his being which connects him with another 
 world, appear, at every turn, in them all. Could modern 
 intelligence assume a visible shape, we should recognise 
 at once, in its mixed character, the finger of man and the 
 finger of God. Thus the two great sources of human de- 
 velopment, humanity and religion, have been open at the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 153 
 
 same time and flowed in plenteous streams. Notwith- 
 standing all the evil, all the abuses, which may have crept 
 into the Church — notwithstanding ail the acts of tyranny 
 of which she has been guilty, we must still acknowledge 
 her influence upon the progress and culture of the human 
 intellect to have been beneficial ; that she has assisted in 
 its development rather than its compression, in its exten- 
 sion rather than its confinement. 
 
 The case is widely diflerent, when we look at the Church 
 in a political point of view. By softening the rugged 
 manners and sentiments of the people ; by raising her voice 
 against a great number of practical barbarisms, and doing 
 what she could to expel them, there is no doubt but the 
 Church largely contributed to the melioration of the so- 
 cial condition ; but with regard to politics, properly so 
 called, with regard to all that concerns the relations be- 
 tween the governing and the governed — between powder 
 and liberty — I cannot conceal my opinion, that its influ- 
 ence has been baneful. In this respect the Church has al- 
 ways shown herself as the interpreter and defender of two 
 systems, equally vicious, that is, of theocracy, and of the 
 imperial tyranny of the Roman empire — that is to say, of 
 despotism, both religious and civil. Examine all its in- 
 stitutions, all its laws; peruse its canons, look at its pro- 
 cedure, and you will everywhere find the maxims of the- 
 ocracy or the Empire to predominate. In her weakness, 
 the Church sheltered herself under the absolute power of 
 the Roman Emperors ; in her strength she laid claim to it 
 herself under the name of spiritual power. We must not 
 here confine ourselves to a few particular facts. The 
 Church has often, no doubt, set up and defended the rights 
 of the people against the bad government of their rulers ; 
 often, indeed, has she approved and excited insurrection ; 
 often too has she maintained the rights and interests of 
 the people in the presence of their sovereigns. But when 
 
154 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the question of political securities came into debate be- 
 tween power and liberty ; when any step was taken to 
 establish a system of permanent institutions, which might 
 effectually protect liberty from the invasions of power in 
 general ; the Church always ranged herself on the side of 
 despotism. 
 
 This should not astonish us, neither should we be too 
 ready to attribute it to any particular failing in the clergy, 
 or to any particular vice in the Church. There is a more 
 profound and powerful cause. 
 
 What is the object of religion'? of any religion, true or 
 false 1 It is to govern the human passions, the human 
 will. All religion is a restraint, an authority, a govern- 
 ment. It comes in the name of a divine law, to subdue, 
 to mortify human nature. It is then to human liberty that 
 it directly opposes itself. It is human liberty that resists 
 it, and that it wishes to overcome. This is the grand ob« 
 ject of religion, its mission, its hope. 
 
 But while it is with human liberty that all religions 
 have to contend, while they aspire to reform the will of 
 man, they have no means by which they can act upon him 
 — they have no moral power over him, but through his 
 own will, his liberty. When they make use of exterior 
 means, when they resort to force, to seduction — in short, 
 make use of means opposed to the free consent of man, 
 they treat him as v/e treat water, wind, or any power en- 
 tirely physical: they fail in their object ; they attain not 
 their end ; they do not reach, they cannot govern the 
 will. Before religions can really accomplish their task, 
 it is necessary that they should be accepted by the free 
 will of man : it is necessary that man should submit, but 
 it must be willingly and freely, and that he still preserves 
 his liberty in the midst of this submission. It is in this 
 that resides the double problem which religions are called 
 upon to resolve. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUBOPE. 155 
 
 They have too often mistaken their object. They have 
 regarded liberty as an obstacle, and not as a means 5 they 
 have forgotten the nature of the power to which they 
 address themselves, and have conducted themselves 
 towards the human soul as they would towards a material 
 force. It is this error that has led them to range them- 
 selves on the side of power, on the side of despotism, 
 against human liberty ; regarding it as an adversary, they 
 have endeavoured to subjugate rather than to protect it. 
 Had religions but fairly considered their means of opera- 
 tion, had they not suffered themselves to be draA\Ti away 
 by a natural but deceitful bias, they would have seen that 
 liberty is a condition, without which man cannot be morally 
 governed ; that religion neither has nor ought to have any 
 means of influence not strictly moral : they would have 
 respected the will of man in their attempt to govern it. 
 They have too often forgotten this, and the issue has been 
 that religious power and liberty have suffered together. 
 
 I will not push further this investigation of the general 
 consequences that have followed the influence of the 
 Church upon European civilization. I have summed 
 them up in this double result, — a great and salutary influ- 
 ence upon its moral and intellectual condition ; an influence 
 rather hurtful than beneficial to its political condition. We 
 have now to try our assertions by facts, to verify by his- 
 tory what we have as yet only deduced from the nature 
 and situation of ecclesiastical society. Let us now see 
 what was the destiny of the Christian Church from the fifth 
 to the twelfth century, and whether the principles which 
 I have laid down, the results which I have endeavoured to 
 draw from them, have really been such as I have repre- 
 sented them. 
 
 Let me caution you, however, against supposing that 
 these principles, these results, appeared all at once, and 
 as clearly as they are here set forth by me. We are apt to 
 
156 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 fall into the great and common error, in looking at the past 
 through centuries of distance, of forgetting moral chro- 
 nology j we are apt to forget — extraordinary forgetfulness ! 
 that history is essentially successive. Take the life of any 
 man — of Oliver Cromwell, of Cardinal Richelieu, of Gus- 
 tavus Adolphus. He enters upon his career ; he pushes 
 forward in life, and rises : great circumstances act upon 
 him ; he acts upon great circumstances. He arrives at the 
 end of all things — and then it is we know him. But it is 
 in his whole character ; it is as a complete, a finished 
 piece ; such in a manner as he is turned out, after a long 
 labour, from the workshop of Providence. Now at his 
 outset he was not what he thus became ; he was not com- 
 plete d — not finished at any single moment of his life ; he 
 was formed successively. Men are formed morally in the 
 same way as they are physically. They change every day. 
 Their existence is constantly undergoing some modifica- 
 tion. The Cromwell of 1650 was not the Cromwell of 
 1640. It is true, there is always a large stock of individ- 
 uality ; the same man still holds on ; but how many ideas, 
 how many sentiments, how many inclinations have changed 
 in him! What a number of things he has lost and 
 acquired ! Thus at whatever moment of his life we may 
 look at a man, he .is never such as we see him when his 
 course is finished. 
 
 This, nevertheless, is an error into which a great number 
 of historians have fallen. When they have acquired a 
 complete idea of a man, have settled his character, they 
 see him in this same character throughout his whole career. 
 With them, it is the same Cromwell who enters parliament 
 in 1628, and who dies in the palace of White-Hall thirty 
 years afterwards. Just such mistakes as these we are 
 very apt to fall into with regard to institutions and general 
 influences. I caution you against them. I have laid 
 down in their complete form, as a whole, the principles of 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 157 
 
 the Church and the consequences which may be deduced 
 from them. Be assured, however, that historically this 
 picture is not true. All it represents has taken place 
 disjointedly, successively j has been scattered here and 
 there over space and time. Expect not to find, in the 
 recital of events, a similar completeness or whole, the 
 same prompt and systematic concatenation. One princi- 
 ple will be visible here, another there ; all will be incom- 
 plete, unequal, dispersed ; we must come to modern times, 
 to the end of its career, before we can view it as a 
 whole. 
 
 I shall now lay before you the various states through 
 which the Church passed from the fifth to the twelfth cen- 
 tury. We may not find, perhaps, the complete demon- 
 stration of the statements which I have made, but we 
 shall see enough, I apprehend, to convince us that they 
 are founded in truth. 
 
 The first state in which we see the Church in the fifth 
 century, is as the Church imperial— the Church of the 
 Eoman Empire. Just at the time the Empire fell, the 
 Church believed she had attained the summit of her hopes : 
 after a long struggle she had completely vanquished pa- 
 ganism. Gratian, the last emperor who assumed the 
 pagan dignity of sovereign pontiff, died at the close of 
 the fourth century. The Church believed herself equally 
 victorious in her struggle against heretics, particularly 
 aorainst Arianism, the principal heresy of the time. The- 
 odosius, at the end of the fourth century, put them down 
 by his imperial edicts ; and had the double merit of sub- 
 duing the Arian heresy and abolishing the worship of 
 idols throughout the Roman world. The Church, then, 
 was in possession of the government, and had obtained 
 the victory over her two greatest enemies. It was at this 
 moment that the Roman Empire failed her, and she stood 
 in the presence of new pagans, of new heretics — in the 
 
 14 
 
158 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 presence of the barbarians — of Goths, of Vandals, of 
 Burgundians and Franks. The fall was immense. You 
 may easily imagine that an affectionate attachment for the 
 Empire was for a long time preserved in the Romish 
 Church. Hence we see her cherish so fondly all that 
 was left of it — municipal government and absolute pow- 
 er. Hence, when she had succeeded in converting the 
 barbarians, she endeavoured to re-establish the Empire ; 
 she called upon the barbarian kings, she conjured them 
 to become Roman emperors, to assume the privilege of 
 Roman emperors ; to enter into the same relations with 
 the Church which had existed between her and the Ro- 
 man Empire. This was the great object for which the 
 bishops of the fifth and sixth centuries laboured. Such 
 was the general state of the Church. 
 
 The attempt could not succeed — it Avas impossible to 
 make a Roman Empire, to mould a Roman society out of 
 barbarians. Like the civil world, the Church herself sunk 
 into barbarism. This was her second state. Comparing 
 the writings of the monkish ecclesiastical chroniclers of 
 the eighth century with those of the preceding six, the 
 difference is immense. All remains of Roman civilization 
 had disappeared, even its very language — all becarne 
 buried in complete barbarism. On one side the rude bar- 
 barians, entering into the Church, became bishops and 
 priests ; on the other, the bishops, adopting the barbarian 
 life, became, without quitting their bishopricks, chiefs of 
 bands of marauders, and wandered over the country, pil- 
 laging and destroying like so many companies of Clovis. 
 Gregory of Tours gives an account of several bishops 
 who thus passed their lives, and among others Salone and 
 Sagittarius. 
 
 Two important facts took place while the Church con- 
 tinued in this state of barbarism. The first was the sep- 
 aration of the spiritual and temporal powers.' Nothing 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 159 
 
 could be more natural than the birth of this principle at 
 this epoch. The Church would have restored the abso- 
 lute power of the Roman Empire that she might partake 
 of it, but she could not ; she therefore sought her safety 
 in independence. It became necessary that she should 
 be able in all parts to defend herself by her own power ; 
 for she was threatened in every quarter. Every bishop, 
 every priest, saw the rude chiefs in their neighbourhood 
 interfering in the affairs of the Church, that they might 
 procure a slice of its wealth, its territory, its power ; and 
 no other means of defence seemed left but to say, " The 
 spiritual order is completely separated from the temporal ; 
 you have no right to interfere with it." This principle 
 became, at every point of attack, the defensive armour of 
 the Church against barbarism. 
 
 A second important fact which took place at this same 
 period, was the establishment of the monastic orders in 
 the west. It w^as at the commencement of the sixth cen- 
 tury that St. Benedict published the rules of his order 
 for the use of the monks of the west, then few in number, 
 but who from this time prodigiously increased. The 
 monks at this epoch did not yet belong to the clerical 
 body, but were still regarded as a part of the laity. Priests 
 and even bishops were sometimes chosen from among 
 them ; but it was not till the close of the fifth and begin- 
 ning of the sixth century that monks in general were con- 
 sidered as belonging to the clergy properly so called. 
 Priests and bishops now entered the cloister, thinking by 
 so doing they advanced a step in their religious life, and 
 increased the sanctity of their office. The monastic life 
 thus all at once became exceedingly popular throughout 
 Europe. The monks had a greater power over the imag- 
 ination of the barbarians than the secular clergy. The 
 simple bishop and priest had in some measure lost their 
 hold upon'the minds of barbarians, who were accustomed 
 
160 GExNERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 to see them every day ; to maltreat, perhaps to pillage 
 them. It Avas a more important matter to attack a mo- 
 nastery, a body of holy men congregated in a holy place. 
 Monasteries, therefore, became during this barbarous 
 period an asylum for the Church, as the Church was for 
 the laity. Pious men here took refuge, as others in the 
 East had done before in the Thebias, in order to escape 
 the worldly life and corruption of Constantinople. 
 
 These, then, are the two most important facts in the 
 history of the Church, during the period of barbarism. 
 First, the separation of the spiritual and temporal powers ; 
 and, secondly, the introduction and establishment of the 
 monastic orders in the West. 
 
 Towards the end of this period of barbarism, a fresh 
 attempt was made to raise up a new Roman empire — I 
 allude to the attempt of Charlemagne. The Church and 
 the civil sovereio-n ao-ain contracted a close alliance. The 
 holy see was full of docility while this lasted, and greatly 
 increased its power. The attempt, however, again failed. 
 The empire of Charlemagne was broken up ; but the ad- 
 vantages which the see of Rome derived from his alliance 
 were great and permanent. The popes henceforward 
 were decidedly the chiefs of the Christian world. 
 
 Upon the death of Charlemagne, another period of un- 
 settledness and confusion followed. The Church, together 
 with civil society, again fell into a chaos ; again with civil 
 society she arose, and with it entered into the frame of 
 the feudal system. This was the third state of the Church. 
 The dissolution of the empire formed by Charlemagne, 
 was followed by nearly the same results in the Church as 
 in civil life ; all unity disappeared, all became local, partial, 
 and individual. Now began a struggle, in the situation 
 of the clergy, such as had scarcely ever before been seen : 
 it was the struggle of the feelings and interest of the 
 possessor of the fief, with the feelings and interest of the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 161 
 
 priest. The chiefs of the clergy were placed in this 
 double situation ; the spirit of the priest and of the tem- 
 poral baron struggled within them for mastery. The 
 ecclesiastical spirit naturally became weakened and divi- 
 ded by this process — it was no longer so powerful, so 
 universal. Individual interest began to prevail. A taste 
 for independence, the habits of the feudal life, loosened 
 the ties of the hierarchy. In this state of things, the 
 Church made an attempt within its own bosom to correct 
 the effects of this general break-up. It endeavoured in 
 several parts of its empire, by means of federation, by 
 common assemblies and deliberations, to organize national 
 Churches. It is during this period, during the sway of 
 the feudal system, that we meet with the greatest num- 
 ber of councils, convocations, and ecclesiastical assem- 
 blies, as well provincial as national. In France especially, 
 this endeavour at unity appeared to be followed up with 
 much spirit. Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, may be 
 considered as the representative of this idea. He laboured 
 incessantly to organize the French Church ; he sought out 
 and employed every means of correspondence and union 
 which he thought likely to introduce into the Feudal 
 Church a little more unity. We find him on one side 
 maintaining the independence of the Church with respect 
 to temporal power, on the other its independence with 
 respect to the Roman see ; it was he who, learning that 
 the pope wished to come to France, and threatened to 
 excommunicate the bishops, said. Si excommunicaturus 
 venerit, excommunicatus abibit. 
 
 But the attempt thus to organize a feudal Church suc- 
 ceeded no better than the attempt to re-establish the im- 
 perial one. There were no means of re-producing any 
 degree of unity among its members ; it tended more and 
 more towards dissolution. Each bishop, each prelate, 
 each abbot, isolated himself more and more in his diocess 
 
162 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 or monastery. Abuses and disorders increased from the 
 same cause. At no time was the crime of simony carried 
 to a greater extent — at no time was ecclesiastical benefi- 
 ces disposed of in a more arbitrary manner — never were 
 the morals of the clergy more loose and disorderly. 
 
 Both the people and the better portion of the clergy 
 were greatly scandalized at this sad state of things ; and 
 a desire for reform in the Church soon began to show 
 itself — a desire to find some authority round which it 
 might rally its better principles, and which might impose 
 some wholesome restraints on the others. Several bish- 
 ops — Claude of Turin, Agobard of Lyons, &c. — in their 
 respective diocesses attempted this, but in vain ; they were 
 not in a condition to accomplish so vast a work. In the 
 whole Church there was onlj^ one power that could suc- 
 ceed in this, and that v.^as the Roman See ; nor was that 
 power slow in assuming the position which it wished to 
 attain. In the course of the eleventh century, the Church 
 entered upon its fourth state — that of a theocracy sup- 
 ported by monastic institutions. 
 
 The person who raised the Holy See to this power, so 
 far as it can be considered the work of an individual, was 
 Gregory VII. 
 
 It has been the custom to represent this great pontiff as 
 an enemy to all improvement, as opposed to intellectual 
 development, to the progress of society 5 as a man whose 
 desire was to keep the world stationary or retrograding. 
 Nothing is farther from the truth. Gregory, like Charle- 
 magne and Peter the Great, was a reformer of the despo- 
 tic school. The part he played in the Church was very 
 similar to that Avhich Charlemagne and Peter the Great, 
 the one in France and the other in Russia, played among 
 the laity. He wished to reform the Church first, and 
 next civil society by the Church. He wished to intro- 
 duce into the world more morality, more justice, more 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUEOPE. 163 
 
 order and regularity ; he wished to do all this through 
 the Holy See, and to turn all to his own profit. 
 
 While Gregory was endeavouring to bring the civil world 
 into subjection to the Church, and the Church to the See 
 of Rome — not, as I have said before, to keep it stationary, 
 or make it retrograde, but with a view to its reform and im- 
 provement — an attempt of the same nature, a similar move- 
 ment, was made within the solitary enclosures of the 
 monasteries. The want of order, of discipline, and of a 
 stricter morality, was severely felt and cried out for with a 
 zeal that would not be said nay. About this time Robert 
 De Moleme established his severe rule at Citeaux ; about 
 the same time flourished St. Norbert, and the reform of the 
 canons, the reform of Cluny, and, at last, the great reform 
 of St. Bernard. A general fermentation reigned within 
 the monasteries: the old monks did not like this ; in de- 
 fending themselves, they called these reforms an attack 
 upon their liberty ; pleaded the necessity of conforming to 
 the manners of the times, that it was impossible to return 
 to the discipline of the primitive Church, and treated all 
 these reformers as madmen, as enthusiasts, as tyrants. 
 Dip into the history of Normandy, by Ordericus Vitalius, 
 and you will meet with these complaints at almost every 
 page. 
 
 All this seemed greatly in favour of the Church, of its 
 unity, and of its power. While, however, the popes of 
 Rome sought to usurp the government of the world, 
 while the monasteries enforced a better code of morals and 
 a severer form of discipline, a few mighty, though solitary 
 individuals protested in favour of human reason, and as- 
 serted its claim to be heard, its right to be consulted, in 
 the formation of man's opinions. The greater part of these 
 philosophers forbore to attack commonly received opin- 
 ions — I mean religious creeds j all they claimed for reason 
 
164} . GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 was, the right to be heard — all they declared was, that she 
 had the right to try these truths by her own tests, and that it 
 was not enough that they should be merely affirmed by au- 
 thority. John Erigena, or John Scotus, as he is more 
 frequently called, Roscelin, Abelard, and others, became 
 the noble interpreters of individual reason, when it now be- 
 gan to claim its lawful inheritance. It was the teaching 
 and writings of these giants of their days that first put in 
 motion that desire for intellectual liberty, which kept pace 
 with the reform of Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. If 
 we examine the general character of this movement of 
 mind, we shall find that it sought not a change of opin- 
 ion, that it did not array itself against the received 
 system of faith ; but that it simply advocated the right 
 of reason to work for itself — in short, the right of free 
 inquiry. 
 
 The scholars of Abelard, as he himself tells us, in his 
 hitroduction to Theology^ requested him to give them 
 *' some philosophical arguments, such as were fit to satisfy 
 their minds, begged that he would instruct them, not mere- 
 ly to repeat what he taught them, but to understand it ; for 
 no one can believe that w^hich he does not comprehend, 
 and it is absurd to set out to preach to others concerning 
 things which neither those who teach nor those who learn 
 can understand. What other end can the study of philo- 
 sophy have, if not to lead us to a knowledge of God, to 
 which all studies should be subordinate 1 For what purpose 
 is the reading of profane authors, and of books which treat 
 of worldly affairs, permitted to believers, if not to enable 
 them to understand the truths of the Holy Scriptures, and 
 to give them the abilities necessary to defend them 1 It is 
 above all things desirable for this purpose, that we should 
 strengthen one another with all the powers of reason ; so 
 that in questions so difficult and complicated as those 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EtTROPE. 165 
 
 which form the object of Christian faith, you may be able 
 to hinder the subtilties of its enemies from too easily 
 corrupting its purity." 
 
 The importance of this first attempt after liberty, or this 
 re-birth of the spirit of free inquiry, was not long in making 
 itself felt. Though busied with its own reform, the Church 
 soon took the alarm, and at once declared war against 
 these new reformers, whose methods gave it more reason 
 to fear than their doctrines. This clamour of human rea» 
 son was the grand circumstance which burst forth at the 
 close of the eleventh and beginning of the twelfth centu- 
 ries, just at the time when the Church was establishing its 
 theocratic and monastic form. At this epoch, a serious 
 struggle, for the first time broke out between the clergy 
 and the advocates of free inquiry. The quarrels of Abe- 
 lard and St. Bernard, the councils of Soissons and Sens, 
 at which Abelard was condemned, were nothing more than 
 the expression of this fact, which holds so important a 
 place in the history of modern civilization. It was the 
 principal occurrence which afiected the Church in the 
 twelfth century ; the point at which we will, for the pre^ 
 sent, take leave of it. 
 
 But at this same instant another power was put in mo- 
 tion, which, though altogether of a different character, 
 was perhaps one of the most interesting and important in 
 the progress of society during the middle ages — I mean 
 the institution of free cities and boroughs ; or what is 
 called the enfranchisement of the commons. How strange 
 is the inconsistency of grossness and ignorance ! If it 
 had been told to these early citizens who vindicated their 
 liberties with such enthusiasm, that there were certain 
 men who cried out for the rights of human reason, the 
 right of free inquiry, men whom the Church regarded as 
 heretics, they would have stoned or burned them on the 
 spot. Abelard and his friends more than once ran the 
 
166 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 risk of suffering this kind of martyrdom. On the other 
 hand, these same philosophers, who were so bold in their 
 demands for the privileges of reason, spoke of the en- 
 franchisement of the commons as an abominable revolu- 
 tion, calculated to destroy civil society. Between the 
 movement of philosophy and the movement of the com- 
 mons — between political liberty and the liberty of the hu- 
 man mind — a war seemed to be declared ; and it has 
 required ages to reconcile these two powers, and to make 
 them understand that their interests are the same. In the 
 twelfth century they had nothing in common, as we shall 
 more fully see in the next lecture, which will be devoted 
 to the formation of free cities and municipal corporations. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 167 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 RISE OF FREE CITIES 
 
 We have already, in our previous lectures, brought 
 down the history of the two first great elements of mod- 
 ern civilization, the feudal system and the Church, to the 
 twelfth century. The third of these fundamental ele- 
 ments — that of the commons, or free corporate cities — - 
 will form the subject of the present, and I propose to limit 
 it to the same period as that occupied by the other two. 
 
 It is necessary, however, that I should notice, on enter- 
 ing upon this subject, a difierence which exists between 
 corporate cities and the feudal system and the Church. 
 The two latter, although they increased in influence, and 
 were subject to many changes, yet show themselves as 
 completed, as having put on a definite form, between the 
 fifth and the twelfth centuries — we see their rise, grow^th, 
 and maturity. Not so the free cities. It is not till to- 
 wards the close of this period — till the eleventh and 
 tw^elfth centuries — that corporate cities make any figure 
 in history. Not that I mean to assert that their previous 
 history does not merit attention ; not that there are not 
 evident traces of their existence before this period ; all I 
 would observe is, that they did not, previously to the 
 eleventh century, perform any important part in the great 
 drama of the world, as connected with modern civiliza- 
 tion. Again, with regard to the feudal system and the 
 Church ; we ha\ e seen them, betw^een the fifth century and 
 the twelfth, act with power upon the social system ; we 
 have seen the efl^ects they produced ; by regarding them 
 
168 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 as two great principles, we have arrived by way of induc- 
 tion, by way of conjecture, at certain results which we 
 have verified by referring to facts themselves. This, how- 
 ever, we cannot do with regard to corporations. We only 
 see these in their childhood. I can scarcely go further 
 to-day than inquire into their causes, their origin ; and 
 the few observations I shall make respecting their effects 
 — respecting the influence of corporate cities upon mod- 
 ern civilization, will be rather a foretelling of what after- 
 w^ards came to pass, than a recounting of what actually 
 took place. I cannot, at this period, call in the testimony 
 of known and contemporary events, because it was not 
 till between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries that cor- 
 porations attained any degree of perfection and influence, 
 that these institutions bore any fruit, and that we can 
 verify our assertions by history. I mention this differ- 
 ence of situation, in order to forewarn you of that which 
 you may find incomplete and premature in the sketch I 
 am about to give you. 
 
 Let us suppose that in the year 1789, at the commence- 
 ment of the terrible regeneration of France, a burgess of 
 the twelfth century had risen from his grave, and made 
 his appearance among us, and some one had put into his 
 hands (for we will suppose he could read) one of those 
 spirit-stirring pamphlets which caused so much excite- 
 ment, for instance, that of M. Sieyes, What is the third 
 estate? ('■'■ Qu^est-ce que le tiers V) If, in looking at this, 
 he had met the following passage, which forms the basis 
 of the pamphlet : — " The third estate is the French na- 
 tion without the nobility and clergy :" Avhat, let me ask, 
 w^ould be the impression such a sentence would make on 
 this burgess's mind? Is it probable that he would under- 
 stand it % No : he would not be able to comprehend the 
 meaning of the words " the French nation," because they 
 remind him of no facts or circumstances with which he 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 169 
 
 would be acquainted, but represent a state of things to the 
 existence of which he is an entire stranger ; but if he did 
 understand the phrase, and had a clear apprehension that 
 the absokite sovereignty was lodged in the third estate, 
 it is beyond a question that he would characterize such a 
 proposition as almost absurd and impious, so utterly at 
 variance would it be with his feelings and his ideas of 
 things^ — so contradictory to the experience and observa- 
 tion of his whole life. 
 
 If we now suppose the astonished burgess to be intro- 
 duced into any one of the free cities of France, which had 
 existed in his time — say Rheims, or Beauvais, or Laon, or 
 Noyon — we shall see him still more astonished and puz- 
 zled : he enters the town, he sees no towers, ramparts, 
 militia, or any other kind of defence ', every thing ex- 
 posed, every thing an easy spoil to the first depredator, 
 the town ready to fall into the hands of the first assailant. 
 The burgess is alarmed at the insecurity of this free city, 
 which he finds in so defenceless and unprotected a condi- 
 tion. He then proceeds into the heart of the town ; he 
 inquires how things are going on, what is the nature of its 
 government, and the character of its inhabitants. He 
 learns that there is an authority, not resident within its 
 walls, ^vhich imposes whatever taxes it pleases to levy 
 upon them without their consent; which requires them 
 to keep up a militia, and to serve in the army without 
 their inclination being consulted. They talk to him about 
 the magistrates, about the* mayor and aldermen, and he 
 is obliged to hear that the burgesses have nothing to do 
 with their nomination. He learns that the municipal gov- 
 ernment is not conducted by the burgesses, but that a ser- 
 vant of the king, a steward living at a distance, has the 
 sole management of their affairs. In addition to this, he 
 is informed that they are prohibited from assembling to- 
 gether to take into consideration matters immediately con- 
 
 15 
 
170 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 cerning themselves, that the church bells have ceased to 
 announce public meetings for such purposes. The bur- 
 gess of the twelfth century is struck dumb with confusion — 
 a moment since he was amazed at the greatness, the im- 
 portance, the vast superiority which the " tiers etat " so 
 Tauntingly arrogated to itself; but now, upon examina- 
 tion, he finds them deprived of all civic rights, and in a 
 state of thraldom and degradation far more intolerable 
 than he had ever before witnessed. He passes suddenly 
 from one extreme to the other, from the spectacle of a 
 corporation exercising sovereign power to a corporation 
 without any power at all : how is it possible that he should 
 understand this, or be able to reconcile it 1 his head must 
 be turned, and his faculties lost in w^onder and confusion. 
 
 Now, let us burgesses of the nineteenth century imagine, 
 in ourturn, that we are transported back into the twelfth. 
 A twofold appearance, but exactly reversed, presents it- 
 self to us in a precisely similar manner. If we regard the 
 affairs of the public in general — the state, the government, 
 the country, the nation at large, we shall neither see nor 
 hear any thing of burgesses ; they were mere ciphers — of 
 no importance or consideration whatever. Not only so, 
 but if we would know in w^hat estimation they held them- 
 selves as a body, what weight, what influence they at- 
 tached to themselves with respect to their relations to- 
 wards the government of France as a nation, we shall re- 
 ceive a reply to our inquiry in language expressive of 
 deep humility and timidity ; A\'4iile we shall find their 
 masters, the lords, from whom they subsequently wrested 
 their franchises, treating them, at least as far as words 
 go, with a pride and scorn truly amazing ; yet these in- 
 dignities do not appear, in the slightest degree, to provoke 
 or astonish their submissive vassals. 
 
 But let us enter one of these free cities, and see what 
 is going on within it. Here things take quite another turn : 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 171 
 
 we find ourselves in a fortified towoi, defended by armed 
 burgesses. These burgesses fix their o\\ti taxes, elect 
 their own magistrates, have their own courts of judicature, 
 their own public assemblies for deliberating upon public 
 measures, from which none are excluded. They make 
 war at their own expense, even against their suzerain — 
 maintain their own militia. In short, they govern them- 
 seh'es, they are sovereigns. 
 
 Here we have a similar contrast to that which made 
 France, of the eighteenth century, so perplexing to the 
 burgess of the twelfth ; the scenes onlj^ are changed. In 
 the present day the burgesses, in a national point of view, 
 are every thing — municipalities nothing ; formerly cor- 
 porations were every thing, while the burgesses, as 
 respects the nation, were nothing. From this it will 
 appear evident that many things, many extraordinary 
 events, and even many revolutions, must have happened 
 between the twelfth and the fifteenth centuries, in order 
 to bring about so great a change as that which has taken 
 place in the social condition of this class of society. But, 
 however vast this change, there can be no doubt but 
 that the commons, the third estate of 1789, politically 
 speaking, are the descendants, the heirs of the free towns 
 of the twelfth century. And the present haughty, ambi- 
 tious French nation, which aspires so high, which pro- 
 claims so pompously its sovereignty, and pretends not 
 only to have regenerated and to govern itself, but to re- 
 generate and rule the whole world, is indisputably descend- 
 ed from those very free towns which revolted in the twelfth 
 century — with great spirit and courage it must be allowed, 
 but with no nobler object than that of escaping to some 
 remote corner of the land from the vexatious tyranny of 
 a few nobles. 
 
 It would be in vain to expect that the condition of the 
 free towns in the twelfth century will reveal the causes of 
 
172 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 a metamorphosis such as this, which resulted from a se- 
 ries of events that took place between the twelfth and 
 eighteenth centuries. It is in these events that we shall 
 discover the causes of this change as we go on. Never- 
 theless, the origin of the ^'- tiers etaV has played a striking 
 part in its history j and though we may not be able therein 
 to trace out the whole secret of its destiny, we shall, at 
 least, there meet with the seeds of it; that which it was 
 at first, again occurs in that which it is become, and this 
 to a much greater extent than might be presumed from 
 appearances. A sketch, however imperfect, of the state 
 of the free cities in the twelfth century^ will, I think, con- 
 vince you of this fact. 
 
 In order to understand the condition of the free cities 
 at that time properly, it is necessary to consider them in 
 two points of view. There are two great questions to be 
 determined: first^ that of the enfranchisement of the com- 
 mons, or cities — that is to say, how this revolution was 
 brought about, what were its causes, what alteration it 
 effected in the condition of the burgesses, what in that 
 of society in general, and in that of all the other orders of 
 the state. The second question relates to the government 
 of the free cities, the internal condition of the enfranchised 
 towns, with reference to the burgesses residing within 
 them, the principles, forms, and customs that prevailed 
 among them. 
 
 From these two sources — namely, the change introduced 
 into the social position of the burgesses, on the one hand, 
 and from the internal government, by their municipal 
 economy, on the other, has flowed all their influence upon 
 modern civilization. All the circumstances that can be 
 traced to their influence, may be referred to one of those 
 two causes. As soon, then, as we thoroughly understand^ 
 and can satisfactorily account for, the enfranchisement of 
 the free cities on the one hand, and the formation of their 
 
C1V1L12AT10N IN MODERN EUROPE. 173 
 
 government on the other, we shall be in possession of the 
 two keys to their history. In conclusion, I shall say a few 
 words on the great diversity of conditions in the free cities 
 of Europe. The facts which I am about to lay before you 
 are not to be applied indiscriminately to all the free cities 
 of the twelfth century — to those of Italy, Spain, England, 
 and France alike ; many of them undoubtedly were nearly 
 the same in them all, but the points of difference are great 
 and important. I shall point them out to your notice as I 
 proceed. We shall meet with them again at a more ad- 
 vanced stage of our civilization, and can then examine 
 them more closely. 
 
 In acquainting ourselves with the history of the enfran- 
 chisement of the free towns, we must remember what was 
 the state of those towns between the fifth and eleventh cen- 
 turies — from the fall of the Eoman empire to the time 
 when municipal revolution commenced. Here, I repeat, the 
 differences are striking: the condition of the towns varied 
 amazingly in the different countries of Europe ; still there 
 are some facts which may be regarded as nearly common 
 to them all, and it is to these that I shall confine my ob- 
 servations. When I have gone through these, I shall say 
 a few words more particularly respecting the free towns 
 of France, and especially those of the north, beyond the 
 Rhone and the Loire j these will form prominent figures 
 in the sketch I am about to make. 
 
 After the fall of the Roman empire, between the fifth and 
 tenth centuries, the towns were neither in a state of servi- 
 tude nor freedom. We here again run the same risk of 
 error in the employment of words, that I spoke to you of 
 in a previous lecture in describing the character of men 
 and events. When a society has lasted a considerable 
 time, and its language also, its words require a complete, a 
 determinate, a precise, a sort of legal official signification. 
 Time has introduced into the signification of every term, a 
 1&* 
 
174 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 thousand ideas, which are awakened within us every time 
 we hear it pronounced, but which, as tliey do not all bear 
 the same date, are not all suitable at the same time. The 
 terms '''•servitude and freedom,'''' for example, recall to our 
 minds ideas far more precise and definite than the facts of 
 the eighth, ninth, or tenth centuries to which they relate. If 
 we say that the towns in the eighth century were in a state 
 of freedom, we say by far too much : we attach now to the 
 word '■''freedom^^ a signification which does not represent 
 the fact of the eighth century. We shall fall into the same 
 error, if we say that the towns were in a state of servitude ; 
 for this term implies a state of things very different to the 
 circumstances of the municipal towns of those days. I say 
 again, then, that the towns were neither in a state of free- 
 dom nor servitude : they suffered all the evils to which 
 weakness is liable : they were a prey to the continual de- 
 predations, rapacity, and violence of the strong : yet, not- 
 withstanding these horrid disorders,their impoverished and 
 diminishing population, the towns had, and still maintained, 
 a certain degree of importance : in most of them there was 
 a clergyman, a bishop who exercised great authority, who 
 possessed great influence over the people, served as a tie 
 between them and their conquerors, thus maintaining the 
 city in a sort of independence, by throwing over it the pro- 
 tecting shield of religion. Besides this, there were still 
 left in the towns some valuable fragments of Roman insti- 
 tutions. We are indebted to the careful researches of 
 MM. de Savigny, Hullmann, Mdle. de Lezardiere, &c., 
 for having furnished us with many circumstances of this 
 nature. We hear often, at this period, of the convocation 
 of the senate, of the curiae, of public assemblies, of munici- 
 pal magistrates. Matters of police, wills, donations, and a 
 multitude of civil transactions, were concluded in the curiae 
 by the magistrates, in the same way that they had pre- 
 viously been done under the Roman municipal government. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 175 
 
 These remains of urban activity and freedom were gra- 
 dually disappearing-, it is true, from day to day. Barbarism 
 and disorder, evils always increasing, accelerated depopu- 
 lation. The establishment of the lords of the country in 
 the provinces, and the rising preponderance of agricultu- 
 ral life, became another cause of the decline of the cities. 
 The Bishops themselves, after they had incorporated 
 themselves into the feudal frame, attached much less im- 
 portance to their municipal life. Finally, upon the tri- 
 umph of the feudal system, the towns, without falling 
 into the slavery of the agriculturists, were entirely sub- 
 jected to the control of a lord, were included in some 
 fief, and lost, by this title, somewhat of the independence 
 which still remained to them, and which, indeed, they had 
 continued to possess, even in the most barbarous times — 
 even in the first centuries of invasion. So that from the 
 fifth century up to the time of the complete organization 
 of the feudal system, the state of the towns was contin- 
 ually getting worse. 
 
 When once, however, the feudal system was fairly 
 established, when every man had taken his place, and be- 
 came fixed as it were to the soil, when the wandering life 
 had entirely ceased, the towns again assumed some im- 
 portance — a new activity began to display itself within 
 them. This is not surprising. Human activity, as we all 
 know, is like the fertility of the soil, — when the disturb- 
 ing process is over, it reappears and makes all to grow 
 and blossom ; wherever there appears the least glimmer- 
 ing of peace and order the hopes of man are excited, and 
 with his hopes his industry. This is what took place in 
 the cities. No sooner was society a little settled under 
 the feudal system, than the proprietors of fiefs began to 
 feel new wants, and to acquire a certain degree of taste 
 for improvement and melioration ; this gave rise to some 
 little commerce and industry in the towns of their do- 
 mains J wealth and population increased within them, — 
 
176 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 slowly for certain, but still they increased. Among othet 
 circumstances which aided in bringing this about, there 
 is one which, in my opinion, has not been sufficiently 
 noticed, — 1 mean the asylum, the protection which the 
 churches afforded to fugitives. Before the free towns 
 were constituted, before they were in a condition by their 
 power, their fortifications, to offer an asylum to the 
 desolate population of the country, when there was no 
 place of safety for them but the church, this circum- 
 stance alone was sufficient to draw into the cities many 
 unfortunate persons and fugitives. These sought refuge 
 either in the church itself or within its precincts ; it 
 was not merely the lower orders, such as serfs, vil- 
 lains, and so on, that sought this protection, but fre- 
 quently men of considerable rank and wealth, who might 
 chance to be proscribed. The chronicles of the times 
 are full of examples of this kind. We find men lately- 
 powerful, upon being attacked by some more power- 
 ful neighbour, or by the king himself, abandoning their 
 dwellings, and carrying away all the property they could 
 rake together, entering into some city, and placing them- 
 selves under the protection of a church : they became 
 citizens. Refugees of this sort had, in my opinion, a 
 considerable influence upon the progress of the cities ; 
 they introduced into them, besides their wealth, elements 
 of a population superior to the great mass of their inha- 
 bitants. We know, moreover, that when once an assem- 
 blage somewhat considerable is formed in any place, that 
 other persons naturally flock to it ; perhaps from finding 
 it a place of greater security, or perhaps from that socia- 
 ble disposition of our nature which never abandons us. 
 
 By the concurrence of all these causes,^ the cities re- 
 gained a small portion of power, as soon as the feudal 
 system became somewhat settled. But the security of 
 the citizens was not restored to an equal extent. The 
 roving, wandering life had, it is true, in a great measure- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 177 
 
 ceased, but to the conquerors, to the new proprietors of 
 the soil, this roving life was one great means of gratify- 
 ing their passions. When they desired to pillage, they 
 made an excursion, they went afar to seek a better for- 
 tune, another domain. When they became more settled, 
 Avhen they considered it necessary to renounce their pre- 
 datory expeditions, the same passions, the same gross 
 desires, still remained in full force. But the Aveight of 
 these now fell upon those whom they found ready at hand, 
 upon the powerful of the world, upon the cities. Instead 
 of going afar to pillage, they pillaged what was near. 
 The exactions of the proprietors of fiefs upon the bur- 
 gesses were redoubled at the end of the tenth century. 
 Whenever the lord of the domain, by which a city was 
 girt, felt a desire to increase his wealth, he gratified his 
 avarice at the expense of the citizens. It was more par- 
 ticularly at this period that the citizens complained of the 
 total want of commercial security. Merchants, on return- 
 ing from their trading rounds could not, with safety, return 
 to their city. Every avenue was taken possession of by 
 the lord of the domain and nis vassals. The moment in 
 which industry commenced its career, was precisely that 
 in which security was most wanting. Nothing is more 
 galling to an active spirit, than to be deprived of the long- 
 anticipated pleasure of enjoying the fruits of his industry. 
 When robbed of this, he is far more irritated and vexed 
 than when made to suffer in a state of being fixed and 
 monotonous, than when that which is torn from him is not 
 the fruit of his own activity, has not excited in him all 
 the joys of hope. There is in the progressive movement, 
 which elevates a man of a population towards a new for- 
 tune, a spirit of resistance against iniquity and violence 
 much more energetic than in any other situation. 
 
 Such, then, was the state of cities during the course of 
 the tenth century. They possessed more strength, more 
 importance, more wealth, more interests to defend. At 
 
178 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the same time, it became more necessary than ever to de- 
 fend them, for these interests, their wealth and their 
 strength, became objects of desire to the nobles. With 
 the means of resistance the danger and difficulty increased 
 also. Besides, the feudal system gave to all connected 
 with it a perpetual example of resistance ; the idea of 
 an organized energetic government, capable of keeping 
 society in order and regularity by its intervention, had 
 never presented itself to the spirits of that period. On 
 the contrary, there was a perpetual recurrence of indivi- 
 dual will, refusing to submit to authority. Such was the 
 conduct of the major part of the holders of fiefs towards 
 their suzerains, of the small proprietors of land to the 
 greater ; so that at the very time when the cities were 
 oppressed and tormented, at the moment when they had 
 new and greater interests to sustain, they had before their 
 eyes a continual lesson of insurrection. The feudal sys- 
 tem rendered this service to mankind — it has constantly 
 exhibited individual will, displaying itself in all its power 
 and energy. The lesson prospered; in spite of their 
 weakness, in spite of the prodigious inequality which 
 existed between them and the great proprietors, their 
 lords, the cities everywhere broke out into rebellion 
 against them. 
 
 It is difficult to fix a precise date to this great event — • 
 this general insurrection of the cities. The commence- 
 ment of their enfranchisement is usually placed at the 
 beginning of the eleventh century. But in all great 
 events, how many unknown and disastrous efl^orts must 
 have been made, before the successful one ! Providence, 
 upon all occasions, in order to accomplish its designs, is 
 prodigal of courage, virtues, sacrifices — finally, of man j 
 and it is only after a vast number of unknown attempts 
 apparently lost, after a host of noble hearts have fallen 
 into despair — convinced that their cause was lost — that it 
 triumphs. Such, no doubt, was the case in the struggle 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 179 
 
 oi the free cities. Doubtless in the eighth, ninth, and 
 tenth centuries there were many attempts at resistance, 
 many efforts made for freedom : — many attempts to escape 
 from bondage, which not only were unsuccessful, but the 
 remembi^nce of which, from their ill success, has re- 
 mained without glory. Still we may rest assured that 
 these attempts had a vast influence upon succeeding 
 events : they kept alive and maintained the spirit of lib- 
 erty — they prepared the great insurrection of the eleventh 
 century. 
 
 I say insurrection, and I say it advisedly. The enfran- 
 chisement of the towns or communities in the eleventh 
 century was the fruit of a real insurrection, of a real war 
 — a war declared by the population of the cities against 
 their lords. The first fact which we always meet with in 
 annals of this nature, is the rising of the burgesses, who 
 seize whatever arms they can lay their hands on ; — it is 
 the expulsion of the people of the lord, who come for the 
 purpose of levying contributions, some extortion ', it is an 
 enterprise against the neighbouring castle ; — such is al- 
 ways the character of the war. If the insurrection fails, 
 what does the conqueror instantly do 1 He orders the 
 destruction of the fortifications erected by the citizens, 
 not only around their city, but also around each dwelling. 
 We see that at the very moment of confederation, after 
 having promised to act in common, after having taken, in 
 common, the corporation oath, the first act of each citizen 
 was to put his own house in a state of resistance. Some 
 towns, the names of which are now almost forgotten, the 
 little community of Vezelai, in Nevers, for example — sus- 
 tained against their lord a long and obstinate struggle. 
 At length victory declared for the Abbot of Vezelai ; upon 
 the spot he ordered the demolition of the fortifications of 
 the houses of the citizens ; and the names of many of the 
 heroes, whose fortified houses were then destroyed, are 
 still preserved. 
 
180 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Let us enter the interior of these habitations of our 
 ancestors ; let iis examine the form of their construction, 
 and the mode of life which this reveals : all is devoted to 
 war, every thing is impressed with its character. 
 
 The construction of the house of a citizen of the twelfth 
 century, so far, at least, as we can now obtain an idea of 
 it, was something of this kind : it consisted usually of 
 three stories, one room in each ; that on the ground floor 
 served as a general eating room for the family ; the first 
 story was much elevated for the sake of security, and this 
 is the most remarkable circumstance in the construction. 
 The room in this story was the habitation of the master of 
 the house and his wife. The house was, in general, flanked 
 with an angular tower, usually square : another symptom 
 of war ; another means of defence. The second story 
 consisted again of a single room ; its use is not known, 
 but it probably served for the children and domestics. 
 Above this in most houses, was a small platform, evidently 
 intended as an observatory or watch-tower. Every fea- 
 ture of the building bore the appearance of war. This 
 was the decided characteristic, the true name of the 
 movement, which wrought out the freedom of the cities. 
 
 After a war has continued a certain time, whatever may 
 be the belligerent parties, it naturally leads to a peace. 
 The treaties of peace between the cities and their adver- 
 saries were so many charters. These charters of the 
 cities were so many positive treaties of peace between 
 the burgesses and their lords. 
 
 The insurrection was general. When I say geiieral^ I 
 do not mean that there was any concerted plan, that there 
 was any coalition between all the burgesses of a country; 
 nothing like it took place. But the situation of all the 
 towns being nearly the same, they all were liable to the 
 same danger ; a prey to the same disasters. Having ac- 
 quired similar means of resistance and defence, they made 
 use of those means at nearly the same time. It may be 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 181 
 
 possible, also, that the force of example did something ; 
 that the success of one or two communities was conta- 
 gious. Sometimes the charters appear to have been drawn 
 up from the same model ; for instance, that of Noyon 
 served as a pattern for those of Beauvais, St. Quentin and 
 others ; I doubt, however, whether example had so great 
 an influence as is generally conjectured. Communication 
 between different provinces was difficult and of rare occur- 
 rence ', the intelligence conveyed and received by hearsay 
 and general report was vague and uncertain ; and there is 
 much reason for believing that the insurrection was rather 
 the result of a similarity of situation and of a general 
 spontaneous movement. When I say general^ I wish to be 
 understood simply as saying that insurrections took place 
 everywhere ; they did not, I repeat, spring from any unan- 
 imous concerted movement : all was particular, local ; 
 each community rebelled on its own account, against its 
 own lord, unconnected with any other place. 
 
 The vicissitudes of the struggle were great. Not only 
 did success change from one side to the other, but even 
 after peace was in appearance concluded, after the charter 
 had been solemnly sworn to by both parties, they violated 
 and eluded its articles in ail sorts of ways. Kings acted a 
 prominent part in the alternations of these struggles. I 
 shall speak of these more in detail when I come to roy- 
 alty itself. Too much has probably been said of the effects 
 of royal influence upon the struggles of the people for 
 freedom. These effects have been often contested, some- 
 times exaggerated, and in my opinion, sometimes greatly 
 underrated. I shall here confine myself to the assertion 
 that royalty was often called upon to interfere in these 
 contests, sometimes by the cities, sometimes by their 
 lords ; and that it played very different parts ; acting now 
 upon one principle, and soon after upon another ; that it 
 was ever changing its intentioas, its designs and its con- 
 
 16 
 
182 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 duct ; but that taking it altogether, it did much, and pro- 
 duced a greater portion of good than of evil. 
 
 In spite of all these vicissitudes, notwithstanding the 
 perpetual violation of charters in the twelfth century — 
 the freedom of the cities was consummated. Europe, 
 and particularly France, which, during a whole century, 
 had abounded in insurrections, now abounded in charters ; 
 cities rejoiced in them with more or less security, but 
 still they rejoiced ; the event succeeded, and the right 
 was acknowledged. 
 
 Let us now endeavour to ascertain the more immediate 
 results of this great fact, and what changes it produced 
 in the situation of the burgesses as regarded society. 
 
 And, at first, as regards the relations of the burgesses 
 with the general government of the country, or with what 
 we now call the state, it effected nothing ; they took no 
 part in this more than before : all remained local, enclosed 
 within the limits of the fief. 
 
 One circumstance, however, renders this assertion not 
 strictly true : a connection now began to be formed be- 
 tween the cities and the king. At one time the people 
 called upon the king for support and protection, or soli- 
 cited him to guaranty the charter which had been prom- 
 ised or sworn to. At another the barons invoked the ju- 
 dicial interference of the king between them and the bur- 
 gesses. At the request of one or other of the two parties, 
 from a multitude of various causes, royalty was called 
 upon to interfere in the quarrel, whence resulted a fre- 
 quent and close connexion between the citizens and the 
 king. In consequence of this connexion the cities be- 
 came a part of the state, they began to have relations 
 with the general government. 
 
 Although all still remained local, yet a new general class 
 of society became formed by the enfranchisement of the 
 commons. No coalition of the burgesses of different cities 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 183 
 
 had taken place ; as yet they had as a class no public or 
 general existence. But the country was covered with 
 men engaged in similar pursuits, possessing the same views 
 and interests, the same manners and customs ; between 
 whom there could not fail to be gradually formed a certain 
 tie, from which originated the general class of burgesses. 
 This formation of a great social class was the necessary 
 result of the local enfranchisement of the burgesses. It 
 must not, however, be supposed that the class of which we 
 are speaking was then, what it has since become. Not 
 only is its situation greatly changed, but its elements are 
 totally different. In the twelfth century, this class was al- 
 most entirely composed of merchants or small traders, and 
 little landed or house proprietors who had taken up their re- 
 sidence in the city. Three centuries afterwards there were 
 added to this class lawyers, phj^^sicians, men of letters, and 
 the local magistrates. The class of burgesses was formed 
 gradually, and of very different elements : history gives 
 us no accurate account of its progress, nor of its diversity. 
 When the body of citizens is spoken of, it is erroneously 
 conjectured to have been, at all times, composed of the 
 same elements. Absurd supposition! It is, perhaps, in 
 the diversity of its composition at different periods of his- 
 tory that we should seek to discover the secret of its des- 
 tiny ; so long as it was destitute of magistrates and of men 
 of letters, so long it remained totally unlike what it became 
 in the sixteenth century ; as regards the state, it neither 
 possessed the same character nor the same importance. 
 In order to form a just idea of the changes in the rank and 
 influence of this portion of society, we must take a view 
 of the new professions, the new moral situations^ of the 
 new intellectual state which gradually arose within it. In 
 the twelfth century, I must repeat, the body of citizens 
 consisted only of small merchants or traders, who, after 
 having finished their purchases and sales, retired to their 
 houses in the city or town j and of little proprietors of 
 
184« GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 houses or lands who had there taken up their residence. 
 Such was the European class of citizens, in its primary 
 elements. 
 
 The third great result of the enfranchisement of the 
 cities was the struggle of classes ; a struggle which con- 
 stitutes the very fact of modern history, and of which it is 
 full. 
 
 Modern Europe, indeed, is born of this struggle between 
 the different classes of society. 1 have already shown that 
 in other places this struggle has been productive of very 
 different consequences: in Asia, for example, one partic- 
 ular class has completely triumphed, and the system of 
 castes has succeeded to that of classes, and society has 
 there fallen into a state of immobility. Nothing of this 
 kind, thank God ! has taken place in Europe. One of the 
 classes has not conquered, has not brought the others into 
 subjection : no class has been able to overcome, to subju- 
 gate the others ; the struggle, instead of rendering society 
 stationary, has been a principal cause of its progress ; the re- 
 lations of the different classes with one another ; the neces- 
 sity of combating and of yielding by turns ; the variety of 
 interests, passions, and excitements ; the desire to conquer 
 Avithout the. power to do so : from all this has probably 
 sprung the most energetic, the most productive principle 
 of development in European civilization. This struggle 
 of the classes has been constant ; enmity has grown up 
 between them ; the infinite diversity of situation, of inter- 
 ests, and of manners, has produced a strong moral hostil- 
 ity ; yet they have progressively approached, assimilated, 
 and understood each other; every country of Europe has 
 seen arise and develop itself within it a certain public 
 mind, a certain community of interests, of ideas, of sen- 
 timents, which have triumphed over this diversity and 
 war. In France, for example, in the seventeenth and 
 eighteenth centuries, the moral and social separation of 
 classes was still very profound, yet there can be no doubt 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 185 
 
 but that their fusion, even then, was far advanced ; that 
 even then there was a real French nation, not consisting 
 of any class exclusively, but of a commixture of the 
 whole ; all animated with the same feeling, actuated by 
 one common social principle, firmly knit together by the 
 bond of nationality. 
 
 Thus, from the bosom of variety, enmity, and discord, 
 has issued that national unity, now become so conspicu- 
 ous in modern Europe ; that nationality whose tendency 
 is to develop and purify itself more and more, and every 
 day to increase its splendour. 
 
 Such are the great, the important, the conspicuous so- 
 cial effects of the revolution which now occupies our at- 
 tention. Let us now endeavour to show what were its 
 moral effects; what changes it produced in the minds of the 
 citizens themselves, what they became in consequence, and 
 what they should morally become, in their new situation. 
 
 When we take into our consideration the connection of 
 the citizens with the state in general, with the government 
 of the state, and with the interests of the country, as that 
 connection existed not only in the twelfth century, but also 
 in after ages, — there is one circumstance which must 
 strike us most forcibly : I mean the extraordinary mental 
 timidity of the citizens j their humility ; the excessive 
 modesty of their pretensions to a right of interference in 
 the government of their country 5 and the little matter 
 that, in this respect, contented them. Nothing was to be 
 seen in them which discovered that genuine political feel- 
 ing, which aspires to the possession of influence, and to 
 the power of reforming and governing ; nothing attests in 
 them either energy of mind, or loftiness of ambition : one 
 feels ready to exclaim, Poor, prudent, simple-hearted citi- 
 zens. 
 
 There are not, properly, more than two sources whence, 
 in the political world, can flow loftiness of ambition and 
 16* 
 
186 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 energy of mind. There must be either the feeling of pos- 
 sessing a great importance, a great power over the desti- 
 ny of others, and this over a large sphere ; or there must 
 be in one's self a powerful feeling of perfect personal inde- 
 pendence, the assurance of one's own liberty, the con- 
 sciousness of having a destiny with which no will can 
 intermeddle beyond that in one's own bosom. To one or 
 other of these two conditions seem to be attached energy 
 of mind, the loftiness of ambition, the desire to act in a 
 large sphere, and to obtain corresponding results 
 
 Neither of these conditions is to be found in the situa- 
 tion of the burgesses of the middle ages. These were, 
 as we have just seen, only important to themselves; ex- 
 cept within the walls of their own city, their influence 
 amounted to but little ; as regarded the state, to almost 
 nothing. Nor could they be possessed of any great feel- 
 ing of personal independence : their having conquered — 
 their having obtained a charter, did but little in the way of 
 promoting this noble sentiment. The burgess of a city 
 comparing himself with the little baron who dwelt near 
 him, and who had just been vanquished by him, would still 
 be sensible of his own extreme inferiority ; he was igno- 
 rant of that proud sentiment of independence which ani- 
 mated the proprietor of a fief; the share of freedom which 
 he possessed was not derived from himself alone, but from 
 his association with others — from the difficult and preca- 
 rious succour which they afTorded. Hence that retiring 
 disposition, that timidity of mind, that trembling shyness, 
 that humility of speech (though perhaps coupled with 
 firmness of purpose), which is so deeply stamped on the 
 character of the burgesses, not only of the twelfth cen- 
 tury, but even of their most remote descendants. They 
 had no taste for great enterprises ; if chance pushed them 
 into such, they became vexed and embarrassed ; any re- 
 sponsibility was a burthen to them ; they felt themselves 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 187 
 
 out of their sphere, and endeavoured to return into it ; 
 they treated upon easy terms. Thus, in running over the 
 history of Europe, and especially of France, we may 
 occasionally find municipal communities esteemed, con- 
 sulted, perhaps respected, but rarely feared ; they seldom 
 impressed their adversaries with the notion that they were 
 a great and formidable power, a power truly political. 
 There is nothing to be astonished at in the weakness of 
 the modern burgess ; the great cause of it may be traced 
 to his origin, in those circumstances of his enfranchise- 
 ment which I have just placed before you. The loftiness of 
 ambition, independent of social conditions, breadth and 
 boldness of political views, the desire to be employed in 
 public affairs, the full consciousness of the greatness of 
 man, considered as such, and of the power that belongs to 
 him, if he be capable of exercising it ; it is these senti- 
 ments, these dispositions, which, of entirely modern 
 growth in Europe, are the offspring of modern civilization, 
 and of that glorious and powerful generality which char- 
 acterizes it, and which will never fail" to secure to the 
 public an influence, a weight in the government of the 
 country, that were constantly wanting, and deservedly 
 wanting, to the burgesses our ancestors. 
 
 As a set-off to this, in the contests which they had to 
 sustain respecting their local interests — in this narrow 
 field, they acquired and displayed a degree of energy, de- 
 votedness, perseverance and patience, which has never 
 been surpassed. The difficulty of the enterprise was so 
 great, they had to struggle against such perils, that a dis- 
 play of courage almost beyond example became necessary. 
 Our notions of the burgess of the twelfth and thirteenth 
 centuries, and of his life, are very erroneous. The picture 
 which Sir Walter Scott has drawn in Quentin Durward of 
 the burgomaster of Liege, fat, inactive, without experience, 
 without daring, and caring for nothing but passing his life 
 in ease and enjoyment, is only fitted for the stage j the 
 
188 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 real burgess of that day had a coat of mail continually on 
 his hack, a pike constantly in his hand ; his life was nearly 
 as stormy, as warlike, as rigid as that of the nobles with 
 whom he contended. It was in these every-day perils, in 
 combating the varied dangers of practical life, that he 
 acquired that bold and masculine character, that deter- 
 mined exertion, which have become more rare in the 
 softer activity of modern times. 
 
 None, however, of these social and moral effects of the 
 enfranchisement of corporations became fully developed 
 in the twelfth century ; it is only in the course of the two 
 following centuries that they showed themselves so as to 
 be clearly discerned. It is nevertheless certain that the 
 seeds of these effects existed in the primary situation of 
 the commons, in the mode of their enfranchisement, and 
 in the position which the burgesses from that time took in 
 society ; I think, therefore, that I have done right in bring- 
 ing these circumstances before you to-daj^ Let us now 
 penetrate into the interior of one of those corporate cities 
 of the twelfth century, that Vv^e may see hoAv it was gov- 
 erned, that we may now see what principles and what 
 facts prevailed in the relations of the burgesses with one 
 another. It must be remembered, that in speaking of the 
 municipal system bequeathed by the Roman empire to the 
 modern world, I took occasion to say, that the Roman 
 world was a great coalition of municipalities, which had 
 previously been as sovereign and independent as Rome 
 itself. Each of these cities had formerly been in the 
 game condition as Rome, a little free republic, making 
 peace and war, and governing itself by its own will. As 
 fast as these became incorporated into the Roman world, 
 those rights which constitute sovereignty — the right of 
 war and peace, of legislation, taxation, &c. — were trans- 
 ferred from each city to the central government at Rome. 
 There remained then but one municipal sovereignty. Rome 
 reigned over a vast number of municipalities, which had 
 
 I 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 189 
 
 nothing left beyond a civic existence. The municipal 
 system became essentially changed : it was no longer a 
 political government, but simply a mode of administration. 
 This was the grand revolution which was consummated 
 under the Roman empire. The municipal system became 
 a mode of administration ; it was reduced to the govern- 
 ment of local affairs, to the civic interests of the city. 
 This is the state in which the Roman empire, at its fall, 
 left the cities and their institutions. Durino- the chaos of 
 barbarism, notions and facts of all sorts became embroiled 
 and confused j the various attributes of sovereignty and 
 administration were confounded. Distinctions of this na- 
 ture were no longer regarded. Affairs were suffered to 
 run on in the course dictated by necessity. The munici- 
 palities became sovereigns or administrators in the various 
 places, as need might require. AVhere cities rebelled, 
 they re-assumed the sovereignty, for the sake of security, 
 not out of respect for any political theory, nor from any 
 feeling of their dignity, but that they might have the means 
 of contending with the nobles, whose yoke they had thrown 
 off; that they might take upon themselves the right to call 
 out the militia, to tax themselves to support the war, to 
 name their own chiefs and magistrates; in a word to govern 
 themselves. The internal government of the city was 
 their means of defence, of security. Thus, sovereignty 
 again returned to the municipal system, which had been 
 deprived of it by the conquests of Rome. City corpora- 
 tions again became sovereigns. This is the political 
 characteristic of their enfranchisement. 
 
 I do not, however, mean to assert, that this sovereignty 
 was complete. Some trace of an exterior sovereignty al- 
 ways may be found ; sometimes it was the baron who re- 
 tained the right to send a magistrate into the city, with 
 whom the municipal magistrates acted as assessors ; per- 
 haps he had the right to collect certain revenues ; in some 
 
190 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 cases a fixed tribute was assured to him. Sometimes the 
 exterior sovereignty of the community was in the hands 
 of the king. 
 
 The cities, themselves, in their turn, entered into the 
 feudal system ; they had vassals, and became suzerains ; 
 and by this title possessed that portion of sovereignty which 
 was inherent in the suzerainty. A great confusion arose 
 between the rights which they held from their feudal po- 
 sition, and those which they had acquired by their insur- 
 rection ; and by this double title they held the sov^ereignty. 
 
 Let us see, as far as the very scanty sources left us will 
 allow, how the internal government of the cities, at least in 
 the more early times, was managed. The entire body of 
 the inhabitants formed the communal assembly ; all those 
 who had taken the communal oath — and all who dwelt 
 wdthin the walls were obliged to do so — were summoned, 
 by the tolling of the bell, to the general assembly. In this 
 was named the magistrates. The number chosen, and the 
 power and proceedings of the magistrates, differed very 
 considerably. After choosing the magistrates, the as- 
 semblies dissolved ; and the magistrates governed almost 
 alone, sufficiently arbitrarily, being under no farther res- 
 ponsibility than the new elections, or, perhaps, popular 
 outbreaks, which were, at this time, the great guarantee 
 for good government. 
 
 You will observe, that the internal organization of the 
 municipal towns is reduced to two very simple elements, 
 the general assembly of the inhabitants, and a government 
 invested w^ith almost arbitrary power, under the responsi- 
 bility of insurrections, — general outbreaks. It was impos- 
 sible, especially while such manners prevailed, to establish 
 any thing like a regular government, with proper guaran- 
 tees of order and duration. The greater part of the popula- 
 tion of these cities were ignorant, brutal, and savage to a 
 degree which rendered them exceedingly difficult to gov- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 191 
 
 ern. At the end of a very short period, there was but 
 little more security within these communities than there 
 had been, previously, in the relations of the burgess- 
 es within the baron. There soon, however, became 
 formed a burgess aristocracy. The causes of this are 
 easily understood. The notions of that day, coupled 
 with certain social relations, led to the establishment 
 of trading companies legally constituted. A system 
 of privileges became introduced into the interior of 
 the cities, and, in the end, a great inequality. There 
 soon grew up in all of them a certain number of con- 
 siderable, opulent burgesses, and a population, more 
 or less numerous, of workmen, who, notwithstanding 
 their inferiority, had no small influence in the affairs 
 of the community. The free cities thus became divided 
 into an upper class of burgesses, and a population subject 
 to all the errors, all the vices of a mob. The superior 
 citizens thus found themselves pressed between two great 
 difKculties: first, the arduous one of governing this in- 
 ferior turbulent population ; and secondly, that of with- 
 standing the continual attempts of the ancient master of 
 the borough, Vv^ho sought to regain his former power. 
 Such was the situation of their affairs, not only in France, 
 but in Europe, down to the sixteenth century. This, per- 
 haps, is the cause which prevented these communities 
 from taking, in several countries of Europe, and especially 
 in France, that high political station which seemed prop- 
 erly to belong to them. Two spirits were unceasingly at 
 w^ork within them : among the inferior population, a blind, 
 licentious, furious spirit of democracy; among the supe- 
 rior burgesses, a spirit of timidity, of caution, and an ex- 
 cessive desire to accommodate all differences, whether 
 with the king, or with its ancient proprietors, so as to 
 preserve peace and order in the bosom of the community. 
 Neither of these spirits could raise the cities to a high 
 rank in the state. 
 
192 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 All these effects did not become apparent in the twelfth 
 century ; still we may foresee them, even in the character 
 of the insurrection, in the manner in which it broke out, in 
 the state of the different elements of the city population. 
 
 Such, if I mistake not, are the principal characteristics, 
 the general results, both of the enfranchisement of the 
 cities and of their internal government. I have already 
 premised, that these facts were not so uniform, not so uni- 
 versal, as I have represented them. There are great diver- 
 sities in the history of the European free cities. In the 
 south of France and in Italy, for example, the Roman mu- 
 nicipal system prevailed ; the population was not nearly so 
 divided, so unequal, as in the north. Here, also, the mu- 
 nicipal organization was much better ; perhaps the effect of 
 Roman traditions, perhaps of the better state of the popula- 
 tion. In the north, it was the feudal system that prevailed 
 in the city arrangements. Here all seemed subordinate to 
 the struggle against the barons. The cities of the south 
 paid much more regard to their internal constitution, to 
 the work of melioration and progress. We see, from 
 the beginning, that they wall become free republics. The 
 career of those of the north, above all those of France, 
 showed itself, from the first, more rude, more incomplete, 
 destined to less perfect, less beautiful developments. If 
 we run over those of Germany, Spain, and England, w^e 
 shall find among them many other differences. I cannot 
 particularize them, but shall notice some of them as we 
 advance in the history of civilization. All things at their 
 origin are nearly confounded in one and the same physi- 
 ognomy ; it is only in their aftergrowth that their variety 
 shows itself. Then begins a new development which 
 urges forward societies towards that free and lofty unity, 
 the glorious object of the efforts and wishes of mankind. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 193 
 
 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 SKETCH OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION STATE OF EUROPE FR03I 
 
 THE TWELFTH TO THE FOURTEENTH CENTURIES THE CRU- 
 SADES. 
 
 I HAVE not yet laid before you the whole plan of my 
 course. I began by pointing out its object, and I then 
 v/ent straight forward, without taking any comprehensive 
 view of European civilization, and without indicating at 
 once its starting-point, its path, and its goal, — its beginning, 
 middle, and end. We are now, however, arrived at a pe- 
 riod when this comprehensive view, this general outline, of 
 the world through which we travel, becomes necessary. 
 The times which have hitherto been the subject of our 
 study, are explained in some measure by themselves, or by 
 clear and immediate results. The times into which we are 
 about to enter can neither be understood nor excite any 
 strong interest, unless we connect them with their most 
 indirect and remote consequences. In an inquiry of such 
 vast extent, a time arrives when we can no longer submit 
 to go forward with a dark and unknown path before us j 
 when we desire to know not only whence we have come 
 and where we are, but whither we are going. This is now 
 the case with us. The period which we approach cannot 
 be understood, or its importance appreciated, unless by 
 means of the relations which connect it with modern 
 times. Its true spirit has been revealed only by the lapse 
 of many subsequent ages. 
 
 We are in possession of almost all the essential elements 
 
 of European civilization. I say almost all, because I have 
 
 not yet said any thing on the subject of monarchy. The 
 
 crisis which decidedly developed the monarchical princi- 
 
 17 
 
194 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 pie hardly took place before the twelfth or even the thir- 
 teenth century. It was then only that the institution of 
 monarchy was really established, and began to occupy a 
 definite place in modern society. It is on this account that 
 I have not sooner entered on the subject. With this ex- 
 ception we possess, I repeat it, all the great elements of 
 European society. You have seen the origin of the feudal 
 aristocracy, the Church, and the municipalities ; you have 
 observed the institutions which would naturally correspond 
 with these facts ; and not only the institutions, but the 
 principles and ideas which these facts naturally give rise 
 to. Thus, with reference to feudalism, you have watched 
 the origin of modern domestic life ; you have comprehend- 
 ed, in all its energy, the feeling of personal independence, 
 and the place which it must have occupied in our civiliza- 
 tion. With reference to the Church, you have observed 
 the appearance of the purely religious form of society, its 
 relations with civil society, the principle of theocracy, the 
 separation between the spiritual and temporal powers, the 
 first blows of persecution, the first cries of liberty of 
 conscience. The infant municipalities have given you a 
 view of a social union founded on principles quite differ- 
 ent from those of feudalism ; the diversity of the classes 
 of society, their contests with each other, the first and 
 strongly marked features of the manners of the modern 
 inhabitants of towns ; timidity of judgment combined w4th 
 energy of soul, proneness to be excited by demagogues 
 joined to a spirit of obedience to legal authority ; all the 
 elements, in short, which have concurred in the formation 
 of European society have already come under your obser- 
 vation. 
 
 Let us now transport ourselves into the heart of modern 
 Europe ; I do not mean Europe in the present day, after 
 the prodigious metamorphosis we have witnessed, but in 
 the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. What an im- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 195 
 
 mense difference ! I have already insisted on this differ- 
 ence with reference to communities ; I have endeavoured 
 to show you how little resemblance there is between the 
 burgesses of the eighteenth century and those of the 
 twelfth. Make the same experiment on feudalism and the 
 Church, and you will be struck with a similar metamor- 
 phosis. There was no more resemblance between the 
 nobility of the court of Louis XV. and the feudal aristo- 
 cracy, or between the Church in the days of Cardinal de 
 Bernis and those of the Abbe Suger, than there is between 
 the burgesses of the eighteenth centurj^ and the same 
 class in the twelfth. Between these two periods, though 
 society had already acquired all its elements, it underwent 
 a total transformation. 
 
 I am now desirous to trace clearly the general and es- 
 sential character of this transformation. 
 
 From the fifth century, society contained all that I have 
 already found and described as belonging to it, — kings, a 
 lay aristocracy, a clergy, citizens, husbandmen, civil and 
 religious authorities ; the germs, in short, of every thing 
 necessary to form a nation and a government; and yet 
 there was no government, no nation. In all the period 
 that has occupied our attention, there was no such thing 
 as a people, properly so called, or a government, in the 
 modern acceptation of the word. We have fallen in with 
 a number of particular forces, special facts, and local in- 
 stitutions ; but nothing general, nothing public, nothing 
 political, nothing, in short, like real nationality. 
 
 Let us, on the other hand, survey Europe in the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries : we everywhere see two 
 great objects make their appearance on the stage of the 
 world, — the government and the people. The influence of 
 a general power over an entire country, and the influence 
 of the country in the power which governs it, are the mate- 
 rials of history ; the relations between these great forces, 
 their alliances or their contests, are the subjects of itsnar- 
 
196 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 ration. The nobility, the clergy, the citizens, all these dif- 
 ferent classes and particular powers are thrown into the 
 back-ground, and effaced, as it were, by these two great 
 objects, the people and its government. 
 
 This, if I am not deceived, is the essential feature 
 which distinguishes modern Europe from the Europe of 
 the early ages ; and this was the change which was ac- 
 complished between the thirteenth and the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 It is, then, in the period from the thirteenth to the six- 
 teenth century, into which we are about to enter, that we 
 must endeavour to find the cause of this change. It is 
 the distinctive character of this period, that it was em- 
 ployed in changing Europe from its primitive to its mod- 
 ern state ; and hence arise its importance and historical 
 interest. If we did not consider it under this point of 
 view, if we did not endeavour to discover the events 
 which arose out of this period, not only we should never 
 be able to comprehend it, but we should soon become 
 weary of the inquiry. 
 
 Viewed in itself and apart from its results, it is a period 
 without character, a period in which confusion went on 
 increasing without apparent causes, a period of move- 
 ment without direction, of agitation without result ; a pe- 
 riod when monarchy, nobility, clergy, citizens, all the ele- 
 ments of social order, seemed to turn round in the same 
 circle, incapable alike of progression and of rest. Exper- 
 iments of all kinds were made and failed ; endeavours 
 were made to establish governments and lay the founda- 
 tions of public liberty ; reforms in religion were even 
 attempted ; but nothing was accomplished or came to any 
 result. If ever the human race seemed destined to be 
 always agitated, and yet always stationary, condemned to 
 unceasing and yet barren labours, it was from the thir- 
 teenth to the fifteenth century that this was the complex- 
 ion of its condition and history. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 197' 
 
 I am acquainted only with one work in which this ap- 
 pearance of the period in question is faithfully described j 
 I allude to M. de Barante's History of the Dukes of Bur- 
 gundy. I do not speak of the fidelity of his pictures of 
 manners and narratives of adventures, but of that gene- 
 ral fidelity which renders the work an exact image, a true 
 mirror of the whole period, of which it at the same time 
 displays both the agitation and the monotony. 
 
 Considered, on the contrary, in relation to what has 
 succeeded it, as the transition from Europe in its primi- 
 tive, to Europe, in its modern state, this period assumes 
 a more distinct and animated aspect ; we discover in it a 
 unity of design, a movement in one direction, a progres- 
 sion ; and its unity and interest are found to reside in the 
 slow and hidden labour accomplished in the course of its 
 duration. 
 
 The history of European civilization, then, may be 
 thrown into three great periods : first, a period which I 
 shall call that of origin, or formation ; during which the 
 different elemrents of society disengage themselves from 
 chaos, assume an existence, and show themselves in their 
 native forms, with the principles by which they are ani- 
 mated ; this period lasted almost to the t^i'^lfth century. 
 The second period is a period of experiments, attempts, 
 groping J* the different elements of society approach and 
 enter into combination, feelings each other, as it were, but 
 without producing any thing general, regular, or durable ; 
 this state of things, to say the truth, did not terminate till 
 the sixteenth century. Then comes the third period, or 
 the period of development, in which human society in 
 Europe takes a definite form, follows a determinate direc- 
 tion, proceeds rapidly and with a general movement, to- 
 wards a clear and precise object ; this is the period which 
 began in the sixteenth century, and is now pursuing its 
 course. 
 
 17* 
 
198 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Such appears, on a genera} view, to be the aspect of 
 European civilization. We are now about to enter into 
 the second of the above periods ; and we have to inquire 
 what were the great and critical events which occurred 
 during its course, and which were the determining causes 
 of the social transformation which was its result 1 
 
 The first great event which presents itself to our view, 
 and which opened,^ so to speak, the period we are speak- 
 ing of, was the crusades. They began at the end of the 
 eleventh century, and lasted during the twelfth and thir- 
 teenth. It was, indeed, a great event ; for, since its oc- 
 currence, it has never ceased to occupy the attention ol] 
 philosophical historians, who have sho^An themselves 
 aware of its influence in changing the conditions of na- 
 tions, and of the necessity of study in order to compre- 
 hend the general course of its facts. 
 
 The first character of the crusades is their universality : 
 all Europe concurred in them ; they were the first Euro- 
 pean event. Before the crusades, Europe had never 
 been moved by the same sentiment, or acted in a common 
 cause ; till then, in fact, Europe did not exist. The cru- 
 sades made manifest the existence of Christian Europe. 
 The French formed the main body of the first army of 
 crusaders; but there were also Germans, Italians, Spah- 
 iards, and English. But look at the second and third 
 crusades, and we find all the nations of Christendom 
 engaged in them. The world had never before witnessed 
 a similar combination,. 
 
 But this is not all. In the same manner as the crusades 
 were a European event, so, in each separate nation, they 
 were a national event. In every nation, all classes of so-, 
 ciety were animated with the same impression,.yielded to 
 the same idea, and abandoned themselves to the same im- 
 pulse. Kings, nobles, priests, citizens, country people,, 
 ?.ll took the same interest and the same share in the cru-. 
 
CIVILIZATI03J IxN MOUEK.N EUROPE. 199 
 
 sades. The moral unity of nations was thus made mani- 
 fest ; a fact as new as the unity of Europe. 
 
 When such events take place in w^hat may be called the 
 youth of nations ; in periods when they act spontaneously, 
 freely, without premeditation or political design, we recog- 
 nise what history calls heroic events, the heroic ages of 
 nations. The crusades w^ere the heroic event of modern 
 Europe ; a movement at the same time individual and 
 general ; national, and yet not under political direction. 
 
 That this was really their primitive character is proved 
 by every fact, and every document. Who were the first 
 crusaders % Bands of people w^ho set out under the con- 
 duct of Peter the Hermit, without preparations, guides, 
 or leaders, followed rather than led by a few obscure 
 knights, traversed Germany and the Greek empire, and 
 were dispersed, or perished, in Asia Minor. 
 
 The higher class, the feudal nobility, next put them- 
 selves in motion for the crusade. Under the command of 
 Godfrey of Bouillon, the nobles and their men departed 
 full of ardour. When they had traversed Asia Minor, 
 the leaders of the crusaders were seized with a fit of 
 lukewarmness and fatigue. They became indifferent 
 about continuing their course j they were inclined rather 
 to look to their own interest, to make conquests and pos- 
 sess them. The mass of the army, however, rose up, 
 and insisted on marching to Jerusalem, the deliverance of 
 the holy city being the object of the crusade. It was not 
 to gain principalities for Raymond of Toulouse, or for 
 Bohemond, or any other leader, that the crusaders had 
 taken arms. The popular, national, European impulse 
 overcame all the intentions of individuals ; and the lead- 
 ers had not sufficient ascendency over the masses to make 
 them yield to their personal interests. The sovereigns, 
 who had been strangers to the first crusade, were now- 
 drawn into the general movement as the people had been. 
 
200 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 The great crusades of the twelfth century were com- 
 manded by kmgs. 
 
 I now go at once to the end of the thirteenth century. 
 A great deal was still said in Europe about crusades, and 
 they were even preached with ardour. The popes excited 
 the sovereigns and the people; councils were held to re- 
 commend the conquest of the holy land f but no expedi- 
 tions of any importance were now undertaken for this 
 purpose, and it was regarded with general indifference. 
 Something had entered into the spirit of European society 
 which put an end to the crusades. Some private expedi- 
 tions still took place ; some nobles and some bands of 
 troops still continued to depart for Jerusalem ; but the 
 general movement was evidently arrested. Neither the 
 necessity, however, nor its facility of continuing it, seem- 
 ed to have ceased. The Moslems triumphed more and 
 more in Asia. The Christian kingdom founded at Jerusa- 
 lem had fallen into their hands. It still appeared neces^ 
 sary to regain it; and the means of success were greater 
 than at the commencement of the crusades. A great 
 number of Christians were established and still powerful 
 in Asia Minor, Syria, and Palestine. The proper means 
 of transport, and of carrying on the war, were better 
 known. Still, nothing could revive the spirit of the cru- 
 sades. It is evident that the two great forces of society 
 — the sovereigns on the one hand, and the people on the 
 other — no longer desired their continuance. 
 
 It has been often said that Europe was weary of these 
 constant inroads upon Asia. We must come to an under- 
 standing as to the meaning of the word vjeariness, frequent- 
 ly used on such occasions. It is exceedingly incorrect. 
 It is not true that generations of mankind can be weary 
 of what has not been done by themselves ; that they can be 
 wearied by the fatigues of their fathers. Weariness is per- 
 gonal : it cannot be transmitted like an inheritance. The 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 201 
 
 people of the thirteenth century were not weary of the 
 crusades of the twelfth j they were influenced by a different 
 cause. A great change had taken place in opinions, sen- 
 timents, and social relations. There were no longer the 
 same wants, or the same desires : the people no longer 
 believed, or wished to believe, in the same things. It is 
 by these moral or political changes, and not by weariness, 
 that the differences in the conduct of successive genera- 
 tions can be explained. The pretended weariness ascrib- 
 ed to them is a metaphor wholly destitute of truth. 
 
 Two great causes, the one moral, the other social, im- 
 pelled Europe into the crusades. 
 
 The moral cause, as you are aware, was the impulse of 
 religious feeling and belief. From the end of the seventh 
 century,Christianity maintained a constant struggle against 
 Mohammedanism. It had overcome Mohammedanism in 
 Europe, after having been threatened with great danger 
 from it 5 and had succeeded in confining it to Spain. Even 
 from thence the expulsion of Mohammedanism was con- 
 stantly attempted. The crusades have been represented 
 as a sort of accident, an unforeseen event, sprung from the 
 recitals of pilgrims returned from Jerusalem, and the 
 preaching of Peter the Hermit. They were nothing of the 
 kind. The crusades were the continuation, the height of 
 the great struggle which had subsisted for four centuries 
 between Christianity and Mohammedanism. The theatre 
 of this contest had hitherto been in Europe ; it was now 
 transported into Asia. If I had attached any value to 
 those comparisons, those parallels, into which historical 
 facts are sometimes made willing or unwillingly to enter, 
 I might show you Christianity running exactly the same 
 course, and undergoing the same destiny in Asia, as Mo- 
 hammedanism in Europe. Mohammedanism established 
 itself in Spain, where it conquered, founded a kingdom and 
 various principalities. The Christians did the same thing 
 
202 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 in Asia. They were there in regard to the Mohammedans, 
 in the same situation as the Mohammedans in Spain, -with 
 regard to the Christians. The kingdom of Jerusalem cor- 
 responds with the kingdom af Grenada r but these simili- 
 tudes, after all, arc of little importance. The great fact 
 was the struggle between the two religious and social sys- 
 tems: the crusades w-ere its principal crisis. This is 
 their historical character ; the chain which connects them 
 with the general course of events. 
 
 Another cause, the social state of Europe in the eleventh 
 century, equally contributed to the breaking out of the 
 crusades. I have been careful to explain why, from the 
 fifth to the eleventh century, there was no such thing as 
 generality in Europe ; I have endeavoured to show how 
 every thing had assumed a local character ; how states, 
 existing institutions, and opinions were confined within 
 very narrow bounds : it was then that the feudal system 
 prevailed. After the lapse of some time, such a narrow 
 horizon was no longer sufficient ; human thought and ac- 
 tivity aspired to pass beyond the narrow sphere in which 
 they were confined. The people no longer led their for- 
 mer wandering life, but had not lost the taste for its 
 movement and its adventures : they thre\v themselves 
 into the crusades as into a new state of existence, in 
 which they were more at large, and enjoyed more vari- 
 ety; which reminded them of the freedom of former bar- 
 barism, while it opened boundless prospects of futurity. 
 
 These w^ere, in my opinion, the two determining causes 
 of the crusades in the twelfth century. At the end of the 
 thirteenth, neither of these causes continued to exist. Man- 
 kind and society were so greatly changed, that neither the 
 moral nor the social incitements which had impelled 
 Europe upon Asia were felt any longer. I do not know 
 whether many of you have read the original historians of 
 the crusades, or have ever thought of comparing the con- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 203 
 
 temporary chroniclers of the first crusades with those of the 
 end of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries ; for example, 
 Albert d'Aix, Robert the Monk, and Raynard d'Arg-ile, who 
 were engaged in the first crusade with William of Tyre 
 and Jacques de Vitry. When we compare these two 
 classes of writers, it is impossible not to be struck with 
 the distance between them. The first are animated chron- 
 iclers, whose imagination is excited, and who relate the 
 events of the crusade with passion : but they are narrow- 
 minded in the extreme, without an idea beyond the little 
 sphere in which they liv^ed ; ignorant of every science, full 
 of prejudices, incapable of forming an opinion on what was 
 passing around them, or the events which were the sub- 
 ject of their narratives. But open, on the other hand, the 
 history of the crusades by William of Tyre, and you will be 
 surprised to find almost a modern historian ; a cultivated, 
 enlarged, and liberal mind, great political intelligence, 
 general views, and opinions upon causes and effects. Jac- 
 ques de Vitry is an example of another species of cultiva- 
 tion J he is a man of learning, who does not confine him- 
 self to what immediately concerns the crusades, but de- 
 scribes the state of manners, the geography, the religion, 
 and natural history of the country to which his history 
 relates. There is, in short, an immense distance between 
 the historians of the first and of the last crusades ; a dis- 
 tance which manifests an actual revolution in the state of 
 the human mind. 
 
 This revolution is most conspicuous in the manner in 
 which these two classes of writers speak of the Mohamme- 
 dans. For the first-chroniclers, — and consequently for the 
 first crusaders, of whose sentiments the first chroniclers 
 are merely the organs, — the Mohammedans are only an 
 object of hatred ; it is clear that those who speak of them 
 do not know them, form no judgment respecting them, 
 nor consider them under any point of view but that of the 
 
204 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 religious hostility which exists between them. No I'es" 
 tige of social relation is discoverable between them and 
 the Mohammedans : they detest them, and fight with them ; 
 and nothing more. William of Tyre, Jacques de Vitry, 
 Bernard le Tresorier, speak of the Mussulmans quite dif- 
 ferently. We see that, even while fighting with them, 
 they no longer regard them as monsters ; that they have 
 entered to a certain extent into their ideas, that they have 
 lived with them, and that certain social relations, and even 
 a sort of sympathy, have arisen between them. William 
 of Tyre pronounces a glowing eulogium on Noureddin, 
 and Bernard le Tresorier on Saladin. They sometimes 
 even go the length of placing the manners and conduct of 
 the Mussulmans in opposition to those of the Christians ; 
 they adopt the manners and sentiments of the Mussulmans 
 in order to satirize the Christians, in the same manner as 
 Tacitus delineated the manners of the Germans in contrast 
 with those of Rome. You see, then, what an immense 
 change must have taken place between these two periods, 
 since you find in the latter, in regard to the very enemies 
 of the Christians, the very people against whom the cru- 
 sades were directed, an impartiality of judgment which 
 would have filled the first crusaders with surprise and 
 horror. 
 
 The principal effect, then, of the crusades was a great 
 step towards the emancipation of the mind, a great pro- 
 gress towards enlarged and liberal ideas. Though begun 
 under the name and influence of religious belief, the cru- 
 sades deprived religious ideas, I shall not say of their le- 
 gitimate share of influence, but of their exclusive and 
 despotic possession of the human mind. This result, 
 though undoubtedly unforeseen, arose from various causes. 
 The first was evidently the novelty, extent, and variety 
 of the scene which displayed itself to the crusaders; what 
 generally happens to travellers happened to them. It is 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 205 
 
 mere common-place to say, that travelling gives free- 
 dom to the mind ; that the habit of observing different 
 nations, different manners, and different opinions en- 
 larofcs the ideas, and disengfaffes the iudcrment from 
 old prejudices. The same thing happened to those na- 
 tions of travellers who have been called the crusaders; 
 their minds were opened and raised by having seen 
 a multitude of different things, by having become ac- 
 quainted wnth other manners than their own. They 
 found themselves also placed in connexion with two states 
 of civilization, not only different from their own, but more 
 advanced — the Greek state of society on ihe one hand, and 
 the Mussulman on the other. There is no doubt that the 
 society of the Greeks, though enervated, perverted, and 
 decaying, gave the crusaders the impression of something 
 more advanced, polished, and enlightened than their own. 
 The society of the Mussulmans presented them a scene of 
 the same kind. It is curious to observe in the chronicles 
 the impression made by the crusaders on the Mussulmans, 
 who regarded them at first as the most brutal, ferocious, 
 and stupid barbarians they had ever seen. The crusaders, 
 on their part, were struck with the riches and elegance of 
 manners which they observed among the Mussulmans. 
 These first impressions were succeeded by frequent rela- 
 tions between the Mussulmans and Christians. These 
 became more extensive and important t an is commonly 
 believed. Not only had the Christians of the East habitual 
 relations with the Mussulmans, but the people of the East 
 and the West became acquainted with, visited, and mingled 
 with each other. It is but lately that one of those learned 
 men who do honour to France in the eyes of Europe, M. 
 Abel Remusat, has discovered the relations which sub- 
 sisted between the Mongol emperors and the Christian 
 kings. Mongol ambassadors were sent to the kings of the 
 Franks, and to St. Louis among others, in order to ^ er- 
 18 
 
206 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 suade them to enter into alliance, and to resume the cru- 
 sades for the common interest of the Mongols and the 
 Christians against the Turks. And not only were diplo- 
 matic and official relations thus established between the 
 sovereio-ns, but there was much and various intercourse 
 between the nations of the East and West. I shall quote 
 the words of M. Abel Remusat :* — 
 
 "Many men of religious orders, Italians, French, and Flemings, were 
 charged with diplomatic missions to the court of the Great Khan. Mon- 
 gols of distinction came to Rome, Barcelona, Valentia, Lyons, Paris, 
 London and Northampton ; and a Franciscan of the kingdom of Naples 
 was Archbishop ef Pekin. His successor was a professor of theology in 
 the university of Pans. But how many other people followed in the train 
 of those personages either as slaves, or attracted by the desire of profit, 
 or led by curiosity into regions hitherto unknown ! Chance has preserved 
 the names of some of these ; the first envoy who visited the king of Hun- 
 gary on the part of the Tartars was an Knglishman, who had been ban- 
 ished from his country for certain crimes, and who, after having wandered 
 over Asia, at last entered into the service of the Mongols. A Flemish 
 Cordelier, in the heart of Tartary, fell in with a woman of Melz called 
 Paquette, who had been earned off into Hungary, a Parisian goldsmith, 
 and a young man from the neighbourhood of Rouen, who had been at the 
 taking of Belgrade. In the same country he fell in also with Russians, 
 Hungarians, and Flemings. A singer, called Robert, after having travel- 
 led through Eastern Asia, returned to end his days in the cathedral of 
 Chartres. A Tartar was a furnisher of helmets in the armies of Philip 
 the Fair. Jean de Plancarpin fell in, near Gayouk, with a Russian gen- 
 tleman whom he calls Temer, and who acted as an interpreter; and many 
 merchants of Breslaw, Poland, a-id Austria, accompanied him in his jour- 
 ney into Tartary. Others returned with him through Russia ; they were 
 Genoese, Pisans, and Venetians. Two Venetians, merchants, whom 
 change had brought to Bokhara, followed a Mongol ambassador, sent by 
 Houlagou to Khoubilai'. They remained many years in China and Tar- 
 tary, returned with letters from the Great Khan to the Pope, and after- 
 wards went back to the Khan, taking with them the son of one of their 
 number, the celebrated Marco Polo, and once more left the court of Khou- 
 bilai to return to Venice. Travels of this nature were not less frequent 
 in the following century. Of this number are those of John Mandeville, 
 
 * Memoires sur les Relations Politiques des Princes Chretiens avec les Empe- 
 reurs Mongols. Deuxieme Memoire, p. 154, 157. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN BIODERN EUROPE. 207 
 
 an English physician ; Oderic de Frioul, Pegoletti, Guilleaume de Boul- 
 deselle, and several others. It may well be supposed, that those travels 
 of which the memory is preserved, form but a small part of those which 
 were undertaken, and there were in those days many more people who 
 were able to perform those long journeys than to write accounts of them. 
 Many of those adventurers must have remained and died in the countries 
 ihey went to visit. Others returned home, as obscure as before, but hav- 
 ing their imagination full of the things tViey had seen, relating them to 
 their families, with much exaggeration no doubt, but leaving behind them, 
 among many ridiculous fables, useful recollections and traditions capable 
 of bearing fruit. Thus, in Germany, Italy, and France, in the monasteries, 
 among the nobility, and even down to the lowest classes of society, there 
 were deposited many precious seeds destined to bud at a somewhat later 
 period. All these unknown travellers, carrying the arts of their own coun- 
 try into distant regions, brought back other pieces of knowledge not less 
 precious, and, without being aware of it, made exchanges more advanta- 
 geous than those of commerce. By these means, not only the traffic in 
 the silks, porcelain, and other commodities of Hindostan, became more 
 extensive and practicable, and new paths were opened to commercial in- 
 dustry and enterprise ; but, what was more valuable still, foreign ruanners, 
 unknown nations, extraordinary productions, presented themselves in 
 abundance to the mind of the Europeans, which, since the fall of the Ro- 
 man empire, had been confined within too narrow a circle. Men began 
 to attach some importance to the most beautiful, the most populous, and 
 the most anciently civilized, of the four quarters of the world. They 
 began to study the arts, the religions, the languages, of the nations by 
 whom it was inhabited ; and there was even an intention of establishing 
 a professorship of the Tartar language in the university of Paris. The 
 accounts of travellers, strange and exaggerated, indeed, but soon discussed 
 and cleared up, diffused more correct and varied notions of those distant 
 regions. The world seemed to open, as it were, towards the East ; geog- 
 raphy made an immense stride ; and ardour for discovery became the 
 new form assumed by European spirit of adventure. The idea of another 
 hemisphere, when our own came to be better known, no longer seemed 
 an improbable paradox ; and it was when in search of the Zipangri of 
 Marco Polo that Christopher Columbus discovered the New World." 
 
 You see, then, what a vast and unexplored world was 
 laid open to the view of European intelligence by the con- 
 sequences of the crusades. It cannot be doubted that the 
 impulse which led to them was one of the most powerful 
 causes of the development and freedom of mind which 
 arose out of that great event. 
 
208 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 There is another circumstance which is worthy of notice. 
 Down to the time of the crusades, the court of Rome, the 
 centre of the Church, had been very little in communica- 
 tion with the laity, unless through the medium of ecclesi- 
 astics ; either legates sent by the court of Rome, or the 
 whole body of the bishops and clergy. There were 
 always some laymen in direct relation with Rome ; but 
 upon the w^hole, it was by means of churchmen that Rome 
 had any communication with the people of different coun- 
 tries. During the crusades, on the contrary, Rome be- 
 came a halting-place for a great portion of the crusaders, 
 either in going of returning. A multitude of laymen 
 were spectators of its policy and its manners, and were 
 able to discover the share which personal interest had in 
 religious disputes. There is no doubt that this newly- 
 acquired knowledge inspired many minds with a boldness 
 hitherto unknown. 
 
 When we consider the state of the general mind at the 
 termination of the crusades, especially in regard to eccle- 
 siastical matters, we cannot fail to be struck with a sin- 
 gular fact : religious notions underwent no change, and 
 were not replaced by contrary or even different opinions. 
 Thought, notwithstanding, had become more free ; reli- 
 gious creeds were not the only subject on which the 
 human mind exercised its faculties ; without abandoning 
 them, it began occasionally to wander from them, and to 
 take other directions. Thus, at the end of the thirteenth 
 century, the moral cause which had led to the crusades, 
 or Avhich, at least, had been their most energetic principle, 
 had disappeared; the moral state of Europe had under- 
 gone an essential modification. 
 
 The social state of society had undergone an analogous 
 change. Many inquiries have been made as to the influ- 
 ence of the crusades in this respect ; it has been showTi 
 in w^hat manner they had reduced a great number of feu- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 209 
 
 dal proprietors to the necessity of selling their fiefs to 
 the kings, or to sell their privileges to the communities, 
 in order to raise money for the crusades. 
 
 It has been shown that, inconsequence of their absence 
 many of the nobles lost a great portion of their power. 
 Without entering into the details of this question, we 
 may collect into a few general facts the influence of the 
 crusades on the social state of Europe. 
 
 They greatly diminished the number of petty fiefs, petty 
 domains, and petty proprietors j they concentrated pro- 
 perty and power in a smaller number of hands. It is 
 from the time of the crusades that we may observe the 
 formation and growth of great fiefs — the existence of 
 feudal power on a large scale. 
 
 I have often regretted that there was not a map of 
 France divided into fiefs, as we have a map of France 
 divided into departments, arrondissements^ cantons and 
 communes^ in which all the fiefs were marked, with their 
 boundaries, relations with each other, and successive 
 changes. If we could have compared, by the help of such 
 maps, the state of France before and after the crusades, we 
 should have seen how many small fiefs had disappeared, 
 and to what extent the greater ones had increased. This 
 was one of the most important results of the crusades. 
 
 Even in those cases where small proprietors preserved 
 their fiefs, they did not live upon them in such an insulated 
 state as formerly. The possessors of great fiefs became 
 so many centres around which the smaller ones were gath- 
 ered, and near which they came to live. During the cru- 
 sades, small proprietors found it necessary to place them- 
 selves in the train of some rich and powerful chief, from 
 whom they received assistance and support. They lived 
 with him, shared his fortune, and passed through the same 
 adventures that he did. When the crusaders returned 
 home, this social spirit, this habit of living in intercourse 
 
 18* 
 
210 GENERAL HISTORY OK 
 
 with superiors, continued to subsist, and had its influence 
 on the manners oi the age. As we see that the great fiefs 
 were increased after the crusades, so we see, also, that the 
 proprietors of these fiefs held, within their castles, a much 
 more considerable court than before, and were surrounded 
 by a greater number of gentlemen, who preserved their 
 little domains, but no longer kept within them. 
 
 The extension of the great fiefs, and the creation of a 
 number of central points in society, in place of the general 
 dispersion which previously existed, were the two princi- 
 pal effects of the crusades, considered with respect to 
 their influence upon feudalism. 
 
 As to the inhabitants of the towns, a result of the same 
 nature may easily be perceived. The crusades created 
 great civic communities. Petty commerce and ^^etty 
 industry were not sufficient to give rise to communities 
 such as the great cities of Italy and Flanders. It was 
 commerce on a great scale — maritime commerce, and, 
 especially, the commerce of the East and West, which 
 gave them birth ; now it was the crusades which gave to 
 maritime commerce the greatest impulse it had yet 
 received. 
 
 On the whole, when we survey the state of society at 
 the end of the crusades, we find that the movement tend- 
 ing to dissolution and dispersion, the movement of univer- 
 sal localization (if I may be allowed such an expression), 
 had ceased, and had been succeeded by a movement in the 
 contrary direction, a movement of centralization. All 
 things tended to mutual approximation ; small things were 
 absorbed in great ones, or gathered round them. Such 
 was the direction then taken by the progress of society. 
 
 You now understand why, at the end of the thirteenth 
 and in the fourteenth century, neither nations nor sove- 
 reigns wished to have any more crusades. They neither 
 needed nor desired them 5 they had been thrown into them 
 
CIVILIZATION' IN MODERN EUROPE. 211 
 
 by the impulses of religious spirit, and the exclusive domin- 
 ion of religious ideas ; but this dominion had now lost its 
 energy. They had also sought in the crusades anew way 
 of life, of a less confined and more varied description ; 
 but they began to find this in Europe itself, in the progress 
 of the social relations. It was at this time that kings 
 began to see the road to political aggrandizement. Why 
 go to Asia in search of kingdoms, when there were king- 
 doms to conquer at their very doors 1 Philip Augustus 
 embarked in the crusade very unwillingly; and what 
 could be more natural 1 His desire was to make himself 
 King of France. It was the same thing with the people. 
 The road to wealth was open to them ; and they gave up 
 adventures for industry. Adventures were replaced, for 
 sovereigns, by political projects ; for the people, by indus- 
 try on a large scale. One class only of society still had a 
 taste for adventure ; that portion of the feudal nobility, 
 who, not being in a condition to think of political aggran- 
 dizement, and not being disposed to industry, retained 
 their former situation and manners. This class, accord- 
 ingly, continued to embark in crusades, and endeavoured 
 to renew them. 
 
 Such, in my opinion, are the real effects of the crusades ; 
 on the one hand, the extension of ideas and the emancipa- 
 tion of thought ; on the other, a general enlargement of 
 the social sphere, and the opening of a wider field for every 
 sort of activity : they produced, at the same time, more 
 individual freedom and more political unity. They tended 
 to the independence of man and the centralization of 
 society. Many inquiries have been made respecting the 
 means of civilization which were directly imported from 
 the East. It has been said that the largest part of the 
 great discoveries which, in the course of the fourteenth 
 and fifteenth centuries, contributed to the progress of Eu- 
 ropean civilization — such as the compass, printing, and 
 
212 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 gunpowder — were known in the East, and that the crusa- 
 ders brought them into Europe. This is true to a certain 
 extent ; though some of these assertions may be disputed. 
 But what cannot be disputed is this influence, this general 
 effect of the crusades upon the human mind on the one 
 hand, and the state of society on the other. They drew 
 society out of a very narrow road, to throw it into new 
 and infinitely broader paths ; they began that transforma- 
 tion of the various elements of European society into 
 governments and nations, which is the characteristic of 
 modern civilization. The same period Avitnessed the 
 development of one of those institutions which has most 
 powerfully contributed to this great result — monarchy ; 
 the history of which, from the birth of the modern states 
 of Europe to the thirteenth century, will form the subject 
 of our next lecture, 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUKOPE. 213 
 
 LECTURE IX. 
 
 OF MONARCHY. 
 
 I ENDEAVOURED, at our last meeting, to determine the 
 essential and distinctive character of modern society as 
 compared with the primitive state of society in Europe j 
 and I believed I had found it in this fact, that all the ele- 
 ments of the social state, at first numerous and various, 
 were reduced to two — the government on one hand, and 
 the people on the other. Instead of finding, in the capa- 
 city of ruling forces and chief agents in history, the clergy, 
 kings, citizens, husbandmen, and serfs, w^e now^ find in 
 modern Europe, only two great objects w^hich occupy the 
 historical stage — the government and the nation. 
 
 If such is the fact to which European civilization has led, 
 such also is the result to which our researches should con- 
 duct us. We must see the birth, the growth, the progres- 
 sive establishment of this great result. We have entered 
 upon the period to which we can trace its origin: it was, 
 as you have seen, between the twelfth and the sixteenth 
 centuries that those slow and hidden operations took place 
 which brought society into this new form, this definite 
 state. We have also considered the first great event which, 
 in my opinion, evidently had a powerful effect in impel- 
 ling Europe into this road ; I mean the crusades. 
 
 About the same period, and almost at the very time when 
 the crusades broke out, that institution began to increase, 
 which has perhaps chiefly contributed to the formation of 
 modern society, and to the fusion of all the social ele- 
 ments into two forces, the government and the people. 
 This institution is monarchy. 
 
SH GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 It is evident that monarchy has played a vast part in 
 the history of European civilization. Of this we may 
 convince ourselves by a single glance. We see the devel- 
 opment of monarchy proceed, for a considerable time, at 
 the same rate as that of society itself: they had a com- 
 mon progression. And not only had they a common pro- 
 gression, but with every step that society made towards 
 its definitive and modern character, monarchy seemed to 
 increase and prosper ; so that, when the work was con- 
 summated — when there remained, in the great states of 
 Europe, little or no important and decisive influence but 
 that of the government and the public — it was monarchy 
 that became the government. 
 
 It was not only in France, where the fact is evident, 
 that this happened, but in most of the countries of Eu- 
 rope. A little sooner or later, and under forms somewhat 
 different, the history of society in England, Spain, and 
 Germany, offers us the same result. In England, for ex- 
 ample, it was under the Tudors that the old particular and 
 local elements of English society were dissolved and 
 mingled, and gave way to the system of public authori- 
 ties ; this, also, was the period when monarchy had the 
 greatest influence. It was the same thing in Germany, 
 Spain, and all the great European states. 
 
 If we leave Europe, and cast our ej^es over the rest of 
 the world, we shall be struck with an analogous fact. 
 Eveywhere we shall find monarchy holding a great place, 
 and appearing as the most general and permanent, per- 
 haps, of all institutions ; as that which is the most diffi- 
 cult to preclude where it does not exist, and, where it 
 does exist, the most difficult to extirpate. From time 
 immemorial it has had possession of Asia. On the dis- 
 covery of America, all the great states of that continent 
 were found, with different combinations, under monarch- 
 ical governments. When we penetrate into the interior 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 215 , 
 
 of Africa, wherever we meet with nations of any extent, 
 this is the government which prevails. And not only has 
 monarchy penetrated everywhere, but it has accommo- 
 dated itself to the most various situations, to civilization 
 and barbarism : to the most peaceful manners, as in China, 
 and to those in which a warlike spirit predominates. It 
 has established itself not only in the midst of the system 
 of castes^ in countries whose social economy exhibits the 
 most rigorous distinction of ranks, but also in the midst 
 of a system of equality, in countries where society is most 
 remote from every kind of legal and permanent classifi- 
 cation. In some places despotic and oppressive j in others 
 favourable to the progress of civilization and even of 
 liberty; it is like a head that may be placed on many differ- 
 ent bodies, a fruit that may grow from many different buds. 
 In this fact w^e might discover many important and curi- 
 ous consequences. I shall take only two 3 the first is, that 
 such a result cannot possibly be the offspring of mere 
 chance, of force or usurpation only 5 that there must neces- 
 sarily be, between the nature of monarchy considered as 
 an institution, and the nature either of man as an individ- 
 ual or of human society, a strong and intimate analogy. 
 Force, no doubt, has had its share, both in the origin and pro- 
 gress of the institution ; but as often as you meet with a 
 result like this, as often as you see a great event develop 
 itself or recur during a long series of ages, and in the 
 midst of so many different situations, never ascribe it to 
 force. Force performs a great and a daily part in human 
 affairs; but it is not the principle which governs their 
 movements : there is always, superior to force, and the 
 part which it performs, a moral cause which governs the 
 general course of events. Force, in the history of socie- 
 ty, resembles the body in the history of man. The body 
 assuredly holds a great place in the life of man, but is not 
 the principle of life. Life circulates in it, but does not 
 
% 216 GEx\ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 mate from it. Such is also the case in human society ; 
 Whatever part force may play in them, it does not govern 
 them, or exercise a supreme control over their destinies ; 
 this is the province of reason, of the moral influences 
 which are hidden under the accidents of force, and regu- 
 late the course of society. We may unhesitatingly de- 
 clare that it was,- to a cause of this nature, and not to 
 mere force, thaflfmonarchy was indebted for its suc- 
 cess. >^ ^h 
 
 A second fact of sfT^ost ec^ual importance is the flexi- 
 bility of monarchy, an^ i?s faculty of modifying itself and 
 adapting itself to a variety of different circumstances. 
 Observe the contrast which it presents : its form reveals 
 unity, permanence, simplicity. It does not exhibit that 
 variety of combinations which are found in other institu- 
 tions ; yet it accommodates itself to the most dissimilar 
 states of society. It becomes evident then that it is sus- 
 ceptible of great diversity, and capable of being attached 
 to many difl^erent elements and principles, both in man as 
 an iM-lividual and in society. 
 
 It is because we have not considered monarchy in all 
 its extent; because we have not, on the one hand, discov- 
 ered the principle which forms its essence and subsists 
 under every circumstance to which it may be applied ; 
 and because, on the other hand, we ha^ e not taken into 
 account all the variations to which it accommodates itself, 
 and all the principles with which it can enter into alli- 
 ance ; — it is, I say, because w^e have not considered mon- 
 archy in this twofold, this enlarged point of view, that we 
 have not thoroughly understood the part it has performed 
 in the history of the world, and have often been mistaken 
 as to its nature and effects. 
 
 This is the task which I should wish to undertake with 
 you, so as to obtain a complete and precise view of the 
 effects of this institution in modern Europe ; whether 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 217 
 
 they have flowed from its intrinsic principle, or from the 
 modifications which it has undergone. 
 
 There is no doubt that the strength of monarchy, that 
 moral power which is its true principle, does not reside 
 in the personal will of the man who for the time happens 
 to be king ; there is no doubt that the people in accepting 
 it as an institution, that philosophers in maintaining it as 
 a system, hai^e net meant to accept the empire of the 
 will of an individual — a will essentially arbitrary, capri- 
 cious, and ignorant. 
 
 Monarchy is something quite different from the will of 
 an individual, though it presents itself under that form. 
 It is the personification of legitimate sovereignty — of the 
 collective will and aggregate wisdom of a people — of that 
 will which is essentially reasonable, enlightened, just, im- 
 partial, — which knows naught of individual wills, though 
 by the title of legitimate monarchy, earned by these con- 
 ditions, it has the right to govern them. Such is the 
 meaning of monarchy, as understood by the people, and 
 such is the motive of their adhesion to it. 
 
 Is it true that there is a legitimate sovereignty, a will 
 which has a right to govern mankind 1 They certainly 
 believe that there is ; for they endeavour, have always 
 endeavoured, and cannot avoid endeavouring, to place 
 themselves under its empire. Conceive, I shall not say a 
 people, but the smallest community of men ; conceive it 
 in subjection to a sovereign who is such only defacto^ to 
 a power which has no other right but that of force, which 
 does not govern by the title of reason and justice ; human 
 nature instantly revolts against a sovereignty such as this. 
 Human nature, therefore, must believe in legitimate sove- 
 reignty. It is this sovereignty alone, the sovereignty de 
 jure^ which man seeks for, and which alone he consents 
 to obey. What is history but a demonstration of this 
 universal fact 1 What are most of the struggles which 
 
 19 
 
218 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 harass the lives of nations but so many determined im- 
 pulses towards this legitimate sovereignty, in order to 
 place themselves under its empire 1 And it is not only 
 the people, but philosophers, who firmly believe in its ex- 
 istence and incessantly seek it. What are all the systems 
 of political philosophy but attempts to discern the legiti- 
 mate sovereignty 1 What is the object of their investiga- 
 tions but to discover who has the right to govern society % 
 Take theocracy, monarchy, aristocracy, democracy j they 
 all boast of having discovered the seat of legitimate sove- 
 reignty; they all promise to place society under the au- 
 thority of its rightful master. This, I repeat, is the object 
 of all the labour of philosophers, as well as of all the 
 efforts of nations. 
 
 How can philosophers and Rations do otherwise than 
 believe in this legitimate sovereignty 1 How can they do 
 otherwise than strive incessantly to discover it % Let us 
 suppose the simplest case j for instance, some act to be 
 performed, either affecting society in general, or some 
 portion of its members, or even a single individual ; it is 
 evident that in such a case there must be some rule of 
 action, some legitimate will to be followed and applied. 
 Whether we enter into the most minute details of social 
 life, or participate in its most momentous concerns, we 
 shall always meet with a truth to be discovered, a law of 
 reason to be applied to the realities of human affairs. It 
 is this law which constitutes that legitimate sovereignty 
 towards which both philosophers and nations have never 
 ceased, and can never cease, to aspire. 
 
 But how far can legitimate sovereignty be represented, 
 generally and permanently, by an earthly power, by a hu- 
 man wiin Is there any thing necessarily false and dan- 
 gerous in such an assumption 1 What are we to think in 
 particular of the personification of legitimate sovereignty 
 under the image of royalty l On \vhat conditions, and 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 519 
 
 within what limits, is this personification admissible 1 
 These are great questions, which it is not my business 
 now to discuss, but which I cannot avoid noticing, and on 
 which I shall say a few words in passing. 
 
 I affirm, and the plainest common sense must admit, 
 that legitimate sovereignty, in its complete and permanent 
 form, cannot belong to any one ; and that every attribu- 
 tion of legitimate sovereignty to any human power what- 
 ever is radically false and dangerous. Thence arises the 
 necessity of the limitation of every power, whatever may 
 be its name or form ; thence arises the radical illegitima- 
 cy of every sort of absolute power, whatever may be its 
 origin, whether conquest, inheritance, or election. We 
 may differ as to the best means of finding the legitimate 
 sovereignty ; they vary according to the diversities of 
 place and time ; but there is no place or time at which 
 any power can legitimately be the independent possessor 
 of this sovereignty. 
 
 This principle being laid down, it is equally certain 
 that monarchy, under whatever system we consider it, 
 presents itself as the personification of the legitimate 
 sovereignty. Listen to the supporters of theocracy; 
 they will tell you that kings are the image of God upon 
 earth, which means nothing more than that they are the 
 personification of supreme justice, truth, and goodness. 
 Turn to the jurists ; they will tell you that the king is the 
 living law ,* which means, again, that the king is the per- 
 sonification of the legitimate sovereignty, of that law of 
 justice which is entitled to govern society. Interrogate 
 monarchy itself in its pure and unmixed form ; it will tell 
 you that it is the personification of the state, of the com- 
 monwealth. In whatever combination, in whatever situa- 
 tion, monarchy is considered, you Avill find that it is 
 always held out as representing this legitimate sovereign- 
 ty, this power, which alone is capable of lawfully govern- 
 ing society. 
 
220 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 We need not be surprised at this. What are the char- 
 acteristics of this legitimate sovereignty, and which are 
 derived from its very nature \ In the first place, it is sin- 
 gle ; since there is but one truth, one justice, so there 
 can be but one legitimate sovereignty. It is, moreover, 
 permanent, and always the same, for truth is unchangea- 
 ble. It stands on a high vantage-ground, beyond the 
 reach of the vicissitudes and chances of this world, with 
 w^hich it is only connected in the character, as it were, of 
 a spectator and a judge. AVell, then, these being the ra- 
 tional and natural characteristics of the legitimate sove- 
 reignty, it is monarchy which exhibits them under the 
 most palpable form, and seems to be their most faithful 
 image. Consult the work in which M. Benjamin Constant 
 has so ingeniously represented monarchy, as a neutral 
 and moderating power, raised far above the struggles and 
 casualties of society, and never interfering but in great 
 and critical conjunctures. Is not this, so to speak, the 
 attitude of the legitimate sovereignty, in the government 
 of human affairs 1 There must be something in this idea 
 peculiarly calculated to strike the mind, for it has passed, 
 with singular rapidity, from books into the actual conduct 
 of affairs. A sovereign has made it, in the constitution 
 of Brazil, the very basis of his throne. In that constitu- 
 tion, monarchy is represented as a moderating powder, 
 elevated above the active powers of the state, like their 
 spectator and their judge. 
 
 Under whatever point of view you consider monarchy, 
 when you compare it with the legitimate sovereignty, you 
 will find a great outward resemblance between them — a 
 resemblance with which the human mind must necessarily 
 have been struck. Whenever the reflection or the imaofi- 
 nation of men has especially turned towards the contem- 
 plation or study of legitimate sovereignty, and of its es- 
 sential qualities, it has inclined towards monarchy. Thus 
 in the times when religious ideas preponderated, the habit- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 221 
 
 ual contemplation of the nature of God impelled mankind 
 towards the monarchical system. In the same manner, 
 when the influence of jurists prevailed in society, the 
 habit of studying, under the name of law, the nature of 
 the legitimate sovereignty, was favourable to the dogma 
 of its personification in the institution of monarchy. The 
 attentive application of the human mind to the contem- 
 plation of the nature and qualities of the legitimate sove- 
 reignty, when there were no other causes to destroy its 
 effect, has always given strength and consideration to 
 monarchy, as being its image. 
 
 There are, too, certain junctures, which are particularly 
 favourable to this personification ; such, for example, as 
 when individual forces display themselves in the world 
 with all their uncertainties ; all their waywardness ; when 
 selfishness predominates in individuals, either through ig- 
 norance and brutality, or through corruption. At such 
 times, society, distracted by the conflict of individual wills, 
 and unable to attain, by their free concurrence, to a general 
 will, which might hold them in subjection, feels an ardent 
 desire for a sovereign power, to which all individuals must 
 submit ; and, as soon as any institution presents itself 
 ^vhich bears any of the characteristics of legitimate sove- 
 reignty, society rallies round it with eagerness j as people, 
 under proscription, take refuge in the sanctuary of ia church. 
 This is what has taken place in the wild and disorderly 
 youth of nations, such as those we have passed through. 
 Monarchy is wonderfully suited to those times of strong 
 and fruitful anarchy, if I may so speak, in w^hich society 
 is striving to form and regulate itself, but is unable to do 
 so by the free concurrence of individual wills. There are* 
 other times when monarchy, though from a contrary cause, 
 has the same merit. Why did the Roman world, so near 
 dissolution at the end of the republic, still subsist for more 
 than fifteen centuries, under the name of an empire, which, 
 
 19* 
 
222. GE^'ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 after all, was nothing but a lingering deca\% a protracted 
 death-struggle \ Monarchy, alone, could produce such an 
 effect J monarchy, alone, could maintain a state of society 
 which the spirit of selfishness incessantly tended to de- 
 stroy. The imperial power contended for fifteen cen- 
 turies against the ruin of the Roman world. 
 
 It thus appears that there are times when monarchy, 
 alone, can retard the dissolution, and times M'hen it, 
 alone, can accelerate the formation of society. And it 
 is, in both cases, because it represents, more clearly than 
 any other form of government can do, the legitimate 
 sovereignty, that it exercises this power over the course 
 of events. 
 
 Under whatever point of view you consider this institu- 
 tion, and at whatever period you take it, you will find, 
 therefore, that its essential character, its moral principle, 
 its true meaning, the cause of its strength, is, its being 
 the image, the personification, the presumed interpreter, 
 of that single, superior, and essentially legitimate will, 
 which alone has a right to govern society. 
 
 Let us now consider monarchy under the second point 
 of view, that is to say, in its flexibility, the variety of 
 parts it has performed, and of effects it has produced. 
 Let us endeavour to account for this character, and ascer- 
 tain its causes. 
 
 Here we have an advantage ; we can at once return to 
 history, and to the history of our OAvn country. By a con- 
 currence of singular circumstances, monarchy in modern 
 Europe has but one very character which it has ever exhi- 
 bited in the history of the world. European monarchy has 
 ^been, in some sort, the result of all the possible kinds of 
 monarchy. In running over its history, from the fifth to 
 the twelfth century, you will see the variety of aspects 
 ander which it appears, and the extent to which we every- 
 wnere find that variety, complication, and contention. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 223 
 
 which characterize the whole course of European civili- 
 zation. 
 
 In the fifth century, at the time of the great invasion of 
 the Germans, two monarchies were in existence — the bar- 
 barian monarchy of Clovis,. and the imperial monarchy of 
 Constantine. They were very different from each other 
 in principles and effects. 
 
 The barbarian monarchy was essentially elective. The 
 German kings were elected, though their election did not 
 take place in the form to which we are accustomed to at- 
 tach that idea. They were military chiefs, whose power 
 was freely accepted by a great number of their compan- 
 ions, by whom they were obeyed as being the bravest and 
 most competent to rule. Election was the true source of 
 this barbarian monarchy, its primitive and essential char- 
 acter. 
 
 It is true that this character, in the fifth century, was 
 already soqnewhat modified, and that difi^erent elements 
 were introduced into monarchy. Different tribes had pos- 
 sessed their chiefs for a certain space of time ; families 
 had arisen,^ more considerable and Vv^ealthier than the rest. 
 This produced the beginning of hereditary succession ; 
 the chief being almost always chosen from these families. 
 This was the first principle of a different nature which 
 became associated with the leading principle of election. 
 
 Another element had already entered into the institution 
 of barbarian monarchy — I mean the element of religion. 
 We find among some of the barbarian tribes — the Goths, 
 forexample — theconviction that the families of their kings 
 were descended from the families of their gods or of their 
 deified heroes, such as Odin. This, too, was the case 
 with Homer's monarchs, who were the issue of gods 
 or demi-gods, and, by this title, objects of religious 
 veneration, notwithstanding the limited extent of their 
 power. 
 
224 GENERAL HISTORY aF 
 
 Such was the barbarian monarchy of the fifth century, 
 whose primitive principle still predominated, though it 
 had itself grown diversified and wavering. 
 
 I now take the monarchy of the Roman empire, the prin- 
 ciple of which was totally difl^erent. It was the personifica- 
 tion of the state, the heir of the sovereignty and majesty 
 of the Roman people. Consider the monarchy of Augus- 
 tus or Tiberius : the emperor was'the representative of the 
 senate ; the assemblies of the people, the whole republic. 
 
 Was not this evident from the modest language of the 
 first emperors — of such of them, at least, as were men of 
 sense and understood their situation 1 They felt that they 
 stood in the presence of the people, who themselves had 
 lately possessed the sovereign power, which they had abdi- 
 cated in their favour ; and addressed the people as their 
 representatives and ministers. But in reality they exer- 
 cised all the power of the people, and that too, in its most 
 exascgerated and fearful form. Such a transformation it is 
 easy for us to comprehend ; we have witnessed it our- 
 selves ; we have seen the sovereignty transferred from the 
 people to the person of a single individual ; this was the 
 history of Napoleon. He also was a personification of the 
 sovereignty of the people; and constantly expressed him- 
 self to that effect. " Who has been elected," he said, 
 *' like me, by eighteen millions of men 1 who is, like me, 
 the representative of the people 1" and when, upon his 
 coins, we read on one side Repuhlique Francaise, and on 
 the other Jfapoleon Empereur^ what is this but an example 
 of the fact which I am describing, of the people having 
 become the monarch 1 
 
 Such was the fundamental character of the imperial mo- 
 narchy ; it preserved this character during the three first 
 centuries of the empire \ and it was, indeed, only under 
 Diocletian that it assumed tts complete and definitive form. 
 It was then, however, on the eve of undergoing a great 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 225 
 
 change ; a new kind of monarchy was about to appear. 
 Djiring three centuries Christianity had been endeavouring 
 to introduce into the empire the element of religion It 
 was under Constantine that Christianity succeeded, not in 
 making religion the prevailing element, but in giving it a 
 prominent part to perform. Monarchy here presents itself 
 under a different aspect ; it is not of earthly origin : the 
 prince is not the representative of the sovereignty of the 
 public ; he is the image, the representative, the delegate of 
 God. Power descends to him from on high, while, in the 
 imperial monarchy, power had ascended from below. 
 These were totally different situations, with totally differ- 
 ent results. The rights of freedom and political securities 
 are difficult to combine with the principle of religious 
 monarchy ; but the principle itself is high, moral, and salu- 
 tary. I shall show you the idea which was formed of the 
 prince, in the seventh century, under the system of reli- 
 gious monarchy. I take it from the canons of the Coun- 
 cil of Toledo. 
 
 " The king is called rex because he governs with jus- 
 tice. If he acts justly (rectt) he has a legitimate title to 
 the name of king ; if he acts unjustly, he loses all claim 
 to it. Our fathers, therefore, said with reason, rex ejus 
 eris si recta facis ; si autem non facis, non eris. The two 
 principal virtues of a king are justice and truth, (the sci- 
 ence of truth, reason.) 
 
 "The depositary of the royal power, no less than the 
 whole body of the people, is bound to respect the laws. 
 While we obey the will of heaven, we make for ourselves, 
 as well as our subjects, wise laws, obedience to which is 
 obligatory on ourselves and our successors, as well as 
 upon all the population of our kingdom. * * * * 
 
 " God, the creator of all things, in constructing the hu- 
 man body, has raised the head aloft, and has willed that 
 from it should proceed the nerves of all the members, and 
 he has placed in the head the torches of the eyes, in order 
 
226 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 to throw light upon every dangerous object. In like man- 
 ner he has established the power of intelligence, giving it 
 the charge of governing all the members, and of prudently- 
 regulating their action. ********* 
 
 "It is necessary then to regulate, first of all, those 
 things which relate to princes, to provide for their safety, 
 and protect their life, and then those things which concern 
 the people, in such a manner, that in properly securing the 
 safety of kings, that of the people may be, at the same 
 time, and so much the more effectually, secured."* 
 
 But, in the system of religious monarchy, there is al- 
 most always another element introduced besides mon- 
 archy itself^ A new power takes its place by its side; a 
 power nearer to God, the source whence monarchy ema- 
 nates, than monarchy itself. This is the clergy, the eccle- 
 siastical power which interposes between God and kings, 
 and between kings and people, in such sort, that mon- 
 archy, though the image of the Divinity, runs the hazard 
 of falling to the rank of an instrument in the hands of the 
 human interpreters of the Divine will. This is a new 
 cause of diversity in the destinies and effects of the insti- 
 tution. 
 
 The different kinds of monarchy, then, which, in the 
 fifth century, made their appearance on the ruins of the 
 Roman empire, were, the barbarian monarchy, the impe- 
 rial monarchy, and religious monarchy in its infancy. 
 Their fortunes were as different as their principles. 
 
 In France, under the first race, barbarian monarchy 
 prevailed. There were, indeed, some attempts on the part 
 of the clergy to impress upon it the imperial or religious 
 character ; but the system of election, in the royal family, 
 with some mixture of inheritance and of religious no- 
 tions, remained predominant. 
 
 In Italy, among the Ostrogoths, the imperial monarchy 
 
 *. Fomm judicum, tit. i, 1. 2 ; tit. i. 1. g, 1. i. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. S'27 
 
 overcame the barbarous customs. Theodoric considered 
 himself as successor of the emperors. It is sufficient to 
 read Cassiodorus to perceive that this Avas the character 
 of his government. 
 
 In Spain, monarchy appeared more religious than else- 
 where. As the councils of Toledo, though I shall not 
 call them absolute, were the influencing power, the reli- 
 gious character predominated, if not in the government, 
 properly so called, of the Visigothic kings, at least in the 
 laws which the clergy suggested to them, and the language 
 they made them speak. 
 
 In England, among the Saxons, manners remained almost 
 wholly barbarous. The kingdoms of the heptarchy were 
 little else than the territories of different bands, every one 
 having its chief. Military election appears more evi- 
 dently among them than anywhere else. The Anglo- 
 Saxon monarchy is the most faithful type of the barbarian 
 monarchy. 
 
 Thus, from the fifth to the seventh century, at the same 
 time that all these three sorts of monarchy manifested 
 themselves in general facts, one or other of them pre- 
 vailed, according to circumstances, in the diflerent states 
 of Europe. 
 
 Such was the prevailing confusion at this period, that 
 nothing of a general or permanent nature could be estab- 
 lished ; and, from vicissitude to vicissitude, we arrive at 
 the eighth century without finding that monarchy has any- 
 where assumed a definitive character. 
 
 Towards the middle of the eighth century, and with the 
 triumph of the second race of the Frank kings, events 
 assume a more general character, and become clearer ; as 
 they were transacted on a larger scale, they can be better 
 understood and have more evident results. The difl^erent 
 kinds of monarchy were shortly destined to succeed and 
 combine with one another in a very striking manner. 
 
 At the time when the Carlovingians replaced the Merc- 
 
228 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 vino-ians, we perceive a return of the barbarian monarchy. 
 Election re-appeared ; Pepin got himself elected at Sois- 
 sons. When the first Carlovingians gave kingdoms to 
 their sons, they took care that they should be acknow- 
 ledo-ed by the chief men of the states assigned to them. 
 When they divided a kingdom, they desired that the par- 
 tition should be sanctioned in the national assemblies. In 
 short, the elective principle, under the form of popular ac- 
 ceptance, again assumed a certain reality. You remem- 
 ber that this change of dynasty was like a new inroad of 
 the Germans into the west of Europe, and brought back 
 some shadow of their ancient institutions and manners. 
 
 At the same time, we see the religious principle more 
 clearly introducing itself into monarchy, and performing 
 a part of greater importance. Pepin was acknowledged 
 and consecrated by the pope. He felt that he stood in 
 need of the sanction of religion ; it was already become 
 a great power, and he sought its assistance. Charle- 
 magne adopted the same policy; and religious monarchy 
 thus developed itself. Still, however, under Charlemagne, 
 relio"ion was not the prevailing character of his govern- 
 ment ; the imperial system of monarchy was that which 
 he wished to revive. Although he allied himself closely 
 with the clergy, he made use of them, and was not their 
 instrument. The idea of a great state, of a great politi- 
 cal combination, — the resurrection, in short, of the Ro- 
 man empire, was the favourite day-dream of Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 He died, and was succeeded by Louis le Debonnaire. 
 Every body knows the character to which the royal power 
 was then, for a short time, reduced. The king fell into 
 the hands of the clergy, who censured, deposed, re- 
 instated, and governed him ; a monarchy subordinate to 
 religious authority seemed on the point of being estab- 
 lished. 
 
 Thus, from the middle of the eighth to the middle of 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 229 
 
 the ninth century, the diversity of the three kinds of 
 monarchy became manifested by events important, closely 
 connected, and clear. 
 
 After the death of Louis le Debonnaire, during the 
 state of disorder into which Europe fell, the three kinds 
 of monarchy almost equally disappeared: every thing 
 became confounded. At the end of a certain time, when 
 the feudal system had prevailed, a fourth kind of monar- 
 chy presented itself, differing from all those which had 
 been hitherto observed : this was feudal monarchy. It is 
 confused in its nature, and cannot easily be defined. It 
 has been said that the king, in the feudal system of govern- 
 ment, was the suzerain over suzeraines^ the lord over 
 lords ; that he was connected by firm links, from degree 
 to degree, with the whole frame of society j and that, in 
 calling around him his own vassals, then the vassals of his 
 vassals, and so on in gradation, he exercised his authority 
 over the whole mass of the people, and showed himself to 
 be really a king. I do not deny that this is the theory 
 of feudal monarchy : but it is a mere theory, which has 
 never governed facts. This pretended influence of the 
 king by means of a hierarchical organization, these links 
 which are supposed to have united monarchy to the whole 
 body of feudal society, are the dreams of speculative poli- 
 ticians. In fact the greatest part of the feudal chieftains 
 at that period were completely independent of the mon- 
 archy ; many of them hardly knew it even by name, and 
 had few or no relations with it : every kind of sove- 
 reignty was local and independent. The name of king, 
 borne by one of these feudal chiefs, does not so much ex- 
 press a fact as a remembrance. 
 
 Such is the state in which monarchy presents itself in 
 the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries. In the 
 twelfth, at the accession of Louis le Gros, things began to 
 change their aspect. The king was more frequently 
 
 20 
 
230 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 spoken of; his influence penetrated into places which it 
 had not previously reached ; he assumed a more active 
 part in society. If we inquire into this title, we recognise 
 none of those titles of which monarchy had previously 
 been accustomed to avail itself. It was not by inheritance 
 from the emperors, or by the title of imperial monarchy, 
 that this institution aggrandized itself, and assumed more 
 consistency. Neither was it in virtue of election, or as 
 being an emanation from divine power : every appearance 
 of election had vanished j the principle of inheritance 
 definitively prevailed ; and notwithstanding the sanction 
 given by religion to the accession of kings, the minds of 
 men did not appear to be at all occupied with the religious 
 character of the monarchy of Louis le Gros. A new 
 element, a character hitherto unknow^n, was introduced 
 into monarchy ; a new species of monarchy began to 
 exist. 
 
 Society, I need hardly repeat, was at this period in very 
 great disorder, and subject to constant scenes of violence. 
 Society, in itself, was destitute of means to struggle 
 against this situation, and to recover some degree of order 
 and unity. The feudal institutions, — those parliaments of 
 barons, those seignorial courts, — all those forms under 
 which, in modern times, feudalism has been represented 
 as a systematic and orderly state of government, — all 
 these things were unreal and powerless ; there was nothing 
 in them which could afford the means of establishing any 
 degree of order or justice ; so that, in the midst of social 
 anarchy, no one knew to whom recourse could be had, in 
 order to redress a great injustice, remedy a great evil, to 
 constitute something like a state. The name of king 
 remained, and was borne by some chief whose authority 
 was acknowledged by a few others. The different titles, 
 however, under which the royal power had been formerly 
 exercised, though they had no great influence, yet were far 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 231 
 
 from being forgotten, and were recalled on various occa- 
 sions. It happened that, in order to re-establish some 
 degree of order in a place near the king's residence, or 
 to terminate some difference which had lasted a longtime, 
 recourse was had to him ; he was called upon to intervene 
 in affairs which were not directly his own j and he inter- 
 vened as a protector of public order, as arbitrator, as 
 redresser of wrongs. The moral authority which con- 
 tinued to be attached to his name gained for him, by little 
 and little, this great accession of power. 
 
 Such was the character which monarchy began to as- 
 sume under Louis le Gros, and under the administration 
 of Suger. Now, for the first time, seems to have entered 
 the minds of men the idea, though very incomplete, con- 
 fused, and feeble, of a public power, unconnected with 
 the local powers which had possession of society, called 
 upon'to render justice to those who could not obtain it 
 by ordinary means, and capable of producing, or at least, 
 commanding, order; — the idea of a great magistracy, 
 whose essential character was to maintain or re-establish 
 the peace of society, to protect the weak, and to decide 
 differences which could not be otherwise settled. Such 
 was the entirely new character, in which, reckoning from 
 the twelfth century, monarchy appeared in Europe, and 
 especially in France. It was neither as barbarian mon- 
 archy, as religious monarchy, nor as imperial monarchy, 
 that the royal power was exercised ; this kind of monar- 
 chy possessed only a limited, incomplete, and fortuitous 
 power ; — a power which I cannot more precisely describe 
 than by saying that it was, in some sort, that of the chief 
 conservator of the public peace. 
 
 This is the true origin of modern monarchy ; this is its 
 vital principle, if I may so speak ; it is this which has 
 been developed in the course of its career, and, I have no 
 hesitation in saying, has ensured its success. At different 
 
232 GE^'ERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 periods of history we observe the re-appearance of the va- 
 rious characters of monarchy ; we see the different kinds 
 of monarchy which I have described, endeavouring, by 
 turns, to recover the preponderance. Thus, the clergy 
 have always preached religious monarchy ; the civilians 
 have laboured to revive the principle of imperial monar- 
 chy ; the nobility would sometimes have wished to renew 
 elective monarchy, or maintain feudal monarchy. And 
 not only have the clergy, the civilians, and the nobility, 
 attempted to give such or such a character a predomi- 
 nance in the monarchy, but monarchy itself has made 
 them all contribute towards the aggrandizement of its 
 own power. Kings have represented themselves some- 
 times as the delegates of God, sometimes as the heirs of 
 the emperors, or as the first noblemen of the land, accord- 
 ing to the occasion or public Avish of the moment j they 
 have illegitimately availed themselves of these various 
 titles, but none of them has been the real title of modern 
 monarchy, or the source of its preponderating influence. 
 It is, I repeat, as depositary and protector of public order, 
 of general justice, and of the common interest, — it is 
 under the aspect of a chief magistracy, the centre and 
 bond of society, that modern monarchy has presented it- 
 self to the people, and, in obtaining their adhesion, has 
 made their strength its own. 
 
 You will see, as we proceed, this characteristic of the 
 monarchy of modern Europe, which began, I repeat, in the 
 twelfth century, and in the reign of Louis le Gros, confirm 
 and develop itself, and become at length, if I may so speak, 
 the political physiognomy of the institution. It is by this 
 that monarchy has contributed to the great result which 
 now characterizes European society, the reduction of all 
 the social elements to two — the government and the nation. 
 
 Thus it appears, that, at the breaking out of the cru- 
 sades Europe entered upon the path which was to conduct 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 233 
 
 her to her present state ; you have just seen monarchy 
 assume the important part which it was destined to per- 
 form in this great transformation. We shall consider, at 
 our next meeting, the diiferent attempts at political or- 
 ganization, made from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, 
 in order to maintain, by regulating it, the order of things 
 that was about to perish. We shall consider the efforts 
 of feudalism, of the Church, and even of the free cities, 
 to constitute society according to its ancient principles, 
 and under its primitive forms, and thus to defend them- 
 selves against the general change which was preparing. 
 
 20^ 
 
234« GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 LECTURE X. 
 
 VARIOUS ATT£:\IPTS TO FORM THE SEVERAL SOCIAL ELEMENTS 
 INTO ONE SOCIETY. 
 
 At the commencement of this lecture I wish, at once, 
 to determine its object with precision. It will be recol- 
 lected, that one of the first facts that struck us, was the 
 diversity, the separation, the independence, of the ele- 
 ments of ancient European society. The feudal nobility, 
 the clergy, and the commons, had each a position, laws, 
 and manners, ^entirely different; they formed so many 
 distinct societies, whose mode of government was inde- 
 pendent of each other. They were in some measure 
 connected, and in contact, but no real union existed be- 
 tween them J- to speak correctly, they did not form a 
 nation — a state. 
 
 The fusion of these distinct portions of society into one 
 is, at length, accomplished ; this is precisely the distinc- 
 tive organization, the essential characteristic of modern 
 society. The ancient social elements are now reduced to 
 two — the government and the people ; that is to say, 
 diversity ceased and similitude introduced union. Before, 
 however, this result took place, and even with a view to 
 its prevention, many attempts were made to bring all these 
 separate portions of society together, without destroying 
 their diversity and independence. No positive attack was 
 made on the peculiar position and privileges of each por- 
 tion, on their distinctive nature, and yet there was an at* 
 tempt made to form them into one state, one national body, 
 to bring them all under one and the same government. 
 
 All these attempts failed. The result which I have 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 235 
 
 noticed above, the union of modern society, attests their 
 want of success. Even in those parts of Europe where 
 some traces of the ancient diversity of the social elements 
 are still to be met with, in Germany, for instance, where a 
 real feudal nobility and a distinct body of burghers still 
 exist ; in England, where we see an established Church 
 enjoying its own revenues and its own peculiar jurisdic- 
 tion ; it is clear that this pretended distinct existence is a 
 shadow, a falsehood : that these special societies are con- 
 founded in general society, absorbed in the state, govern- 
 ed by the public authorities, controlled by the same sys- 
 tem of polity, carried away by the same current of ideas, 
 the same manners. Again I assert, that even where the 
 form still exists, the separation and independence of the 
 ancient social elements have no longer any reality. 
 
 At the same time, these attempts at rendering the an- 
 cient and social elements co-ordinate, without changing 
 their nature, at forming them into national unity without 
 annihilating their variety, are entitled to an important 
 place in the history of Europe. The period which now 
 engages our attention — that period which separates ancient 
 from modem Europe, and in which was accomplished the 
 metamorphosis of European society — is almost entirely 
 filled with them. Not only do they form a principal part 
 of the history of this period, but they had a considerable 
 influence on after events, on the manner in which was 
 effected the reduction of the various social elements to 
 two — the government and the people. It is clearly, then, 
 of great importance, that we should become well acquaint- 
 ed with all those endeavours at political organization 
 which were made from the twelfth to the sixteenth centu- 
 ry, for the purpose of creating nations and governments, 
 without destroying the diversity of secondary societies 
 placed by the side of each other. These attempts form 
 the subject of the present lecture — a laborious and even 
 painful task. 
 
236 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 All these attempts at political organization did not, cer- 
 tainly, originate from a good motive ; too many of them 
 arose from selfishness and tyranny. Yet some of them 
 were pure and disinterested ; some of them had, truly, 
 for their object the moral and social welfare of mankind. 
 Society, at this time, was in such a state of incoherence, 
 of violence, and iniquity, as could not but be extremely 
 offensive to men of enlarged views — to men who pos- 
 sessed elevated sentiments, and who laboured incessantly 
 to discover the means of improving it. Yet even the 
 best of these noble attempts miscarried ; and is not the 
 loss of so much courage — of so many sacrifices and en- 
 deavours — of so much virtue, a melancholy spectacle'? 
 And what is still more painful, a still more poignant sor- 
 row, not only did these attempts at social melioration fail, 
 but an enormous mass of error and of evil was mingled 
 with them. Notwithstanding good intention, the majori- 
 ty of them were absurd, and show a profound ignorance of 
 reason, of justice, of the rights of humanity, and of the 
 conditions of the social state; so that not only were they 
 unsuccessful, but it was right that they should be so. 
 We have here a spectacle, not only of the hard lot of hu- 
 manity, but also of its weakness. We may here see how 
 the smallest portion of truth suffices so to engage the 
 whole attention of men of superior intellect, that they 
 forget every thing else, and become blind to all that is not 
 comprised within the narrow horizon of their ideas. We 
 may here see how the existence of ever so small a parti- 
 cle of justice in a cause is sufficient to make them lose 
 sight of all the injustice which it contains and permits. 
 This display of the vices and follies of man is, in my 
 opinion, still more melancholy to contemplate than the 
 misery of this condition ; his faults affect me more than 
 his sufferings. The attempts already alluded to will bring 
 man before us in both these situations ; still we must not 
 shun the painful retrospect 3 it behooves us not to flinch 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 237 
 
 from doing justice to those men, to those ages that 
 have so often erred, so miserably failed, and yet have 
 displayed such noble virtues, made such powerful efforts, 
 merited so much glory. 
 
 The attempts at political organization which were form- 
 ed from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries were of 
 two kinds : one having for its object the predominance of 
 one of the social elements ; sometimes the clergy, some- 
 times the feudal nobility, sometimes the free cities, and 
 making all the others subordinate to it, and by such a sac- 
 rifice to introduce unity; the other proposed to cause all 
 the different societies to agree and to act together, leav- 
 ing to each portion its liberty, and ensuring to each its due 
 share of influence. 
 
 The attempts of the former kind are much more open 
 to suspicion of self-interest and tyranny than the latter j 
 in fact they were not spotless ; from their very nature 
 they were essentially tyrannical in their mode of execu- 
 tion ; yet some of them might have been, and indeed 
 were, conceived in a spirit of pure intention, and with a 
 view to the welfare and advancement of mankind. 
 
 The first attempt which presents itself, is the attempt 
 at theocratical organization ; that is to say, the design of 
 bringing all the other societies into a state of submission 
 to the principles and sway of ecclesiastical society. 
 
 I must here refer to what I have already said relative to 
 the history of the Church. T have endeavoured to show 
 what were the principles it developed — what was the legi- 
 timate part of each — how these principles arose from the 
 natural course of events — the good and the evil produced 
 by them. I have characterized the different stages through 
 which the Church passed from the eighth to the twelfth 
 century. I have pointed out the state of the imperial 
 Church, of the barbarian Church, of the feudal Church, 
 and lastly, of the theocratic Church. I take it for granted 
 
238 ' GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 that all this is present in your recollection, and I shall 
 now endeavour to show you what the clergy did in order 
 to obtain the government of Europe, and why they failed 
 in obtaining it. 
 
 The attempt at theocratic organization appeared at an 
 early period, both in the acts of the court of Rome, and 
 in those of the clergy in general ; it naturally proceeded 
 from the political and moral superiority of the Church ; 
 but, from the commencement, such obstacles were thrown 
 in its way, that, even in its greatest vigour, it never had 
 the power to overcome them. 
 
 The first obstacle was the nature itself of Christianity. 
 Very different, in this respect, from the greater part of re- 
 ligious creeds, Christianity established itself by persuasion 
 alone, by simple moral efforts ; even at its birth it was not 
 armed with power ; in its earliest years it conquered by 
 words alone, and its only conquest was the souls of men. 
 Even after its triumph, even when the Church was in pos- 
 session of great wealth and consideration, the direct gov- 
 ernment of society was not placed in its hands. Its ori- 
 gin, purely moral, springing from mental influence alone, 
 was implanted in its constitution. It possessed a vast in- 
 fluence, but it had no power. It gradually insinuated it- 
 self into the municipal magistracies ; it acted povi^^erfully 
 upon the emperors and upon all their agents ; but the posi- 
 tive administration of public affairs — the government, pro- 
 perly so called — was not possessed by the Church. Now, 
 a system of government, a theocracy, as well as any other, 
 cannot be established in an indirect manner, by mere influ- 
 ence alone ; it must possess the judicial and ministerial 
 offices, the command of the forces, be in receipt of the 
 imposts, have the disposal of the revenues, in a word, it 
 must govern — take possession of society. Force of per- 
 suasion may do much, it m.ay obtain great' influence over 
 a people, and even over governments its sway may be very 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 239 
 
 powerful j but it cannot govern, it cannot found a system, 
 it cannot take possession of the future. Such has been, 
 even from its origin, the situation of the Christian Church ; 
 it has always sided with government, but never super- 
 seded it, and taken its place ; a great obstacle, which the 
 attempt at theocratic organization was never able to sur- 
 mount. 
 
 The attempt to establish a theocracy very soon met 
 with a second obstacle. When the Roman empire was 
 destroyed, and the barbarian states were established on 
 its ruins, the Christian Church was found amongst the 
 conquered. It was necessary for it to escape from this sit- 
 uation ; to begin by converting the conquerors, and thus 
 to raise itself to their rank. This accomplished, when the 
 Church aspired to dominion, it had to encounter the pride 
 and the resistance of the feudal nobility. Europe is 
 greatly indebted to the laic members of the feudal system 
 in the eleventh century : the people were almost com- 
 pletely subjugated by the Church ; sovereigns could 
 scarcely protect themselves from its domination ; the feu- 
 dal nobility alone would never submit to its yoke, would 
 never give way to the power of the clergy. We have 
 only to recall to our recollection the general appearance 
 of the middle ages, in order to be struck with the singular 
 mixture of loftiness and submission, of blind faith and 
 liberty of mind, in the connexion of the lay nobility with 
 the priests. We there find some of the remnants of their 
 primitive situation. It may be remembered how I endea- 
 voured to describe the origin of the feudal system, its 
 first elements, and the manner in which feudal society 
 first formed itself around the habitation of the possessor 
 of the fief. I remarked how much the priest was there 
 below the lord of the fief. Yes, and there always remained, 
 in the hearts of the feudal nobility, a feeling of this situ- 
 ation j they always considered themselv'es as not only in- 
 
240 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 dependent of the Cliurch, but as its superior, — as alone 
 called upon to possess, and in reality to govern, the coun- 
 try ; they were willing always to live on good terms with 
 the clergy, but at the same time insisting that each should 
 perform his own part, the one not infringing upon the du- 
 ties of the other. During many centuries it was the lay 
 aristocracy who maintained the independence of society 
 with regard to the Church ; they boldly defended it when 
 the sovereigns and the people were subdued. They were 
 the first to oppose, and probably contributed more than 
 any other power to the failure of the attempt at a theo- 
 cratic organization of society. 
 
 A third obstacle stood much in the way of this attempt, 
 an obstacle which has been but little noticed, and the 
 effect of which has often been misunderstood. 
 
 In all parts of the world where a clergy made itself 
 master of society, and forced it to submit to a theocratic 
 organization, the government always fell into the hands of 
 a married clergy, of a body of priests who were enabled 
 to recruit their ranks from their own society. Examine 
 history; look to Asia and Egypt; every powerful theoc- 
 racy you will find to have been the work of a priesthood, 
 of a society complete within itself, and which had no occa- 
 sion to borrow of any other. 
 
 But the celibacy of the clergy placed the Christian priest- 
 hood in a very different situation ; it was obliged to have 
 recourse incessantly to lay society in order to continue its 
 existence ; it was compelled to seek at a distance, among 
 all stations, all social professions, for the means of its dura- 
 tion. In vain, attachment to their order induced them to 
 labour assiduously for the purpose of assimilating these dis- 
 cordant elements ; some of the original qualities of these 
 new comers ever remain ; citizens or gentlemen, they al- 
 ways retained some vestige of their former disposition, of 
 their early habits. Doubtless the Catholic clergy, by being 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 241 
 
 placed in a lonely situation by celibacy, by being cut off, as 
 it were, from the common life of men, became more isolat- 
 ed, and separate from society; but then it was forced con- 
 tinually to have recourse to this same lay society, to re- 
 cruit, to renew itself from it, and consequently to parti- 
 cipate in the moral revolutions which it underwent ; and 
 I have no hesitation in stating it as my opinion, that this 
 necessity, which was always arising, did much more to 
 prevent the success of the attempt at theocratic organi- 
 zation, than the esprit de corps, strongly supported as it 
 Avas by celibacy, did to forward it. 
 
 The clergy, indeed, found within its own body the most 
 powerful opponents of this attempt. Much has been said 
 of the unity of the Church, and it is true that it has con- 
 stantly endeavoured to obtain this unity, and in some par- 
 ticulars has had the good fortune to succeed. But we 
 must not suffer ourselves to be imposed upon by high- 
 sounding words, nor by partial facts. What society has 
 offered to our view a greater number of civil dissensions, 
 has been subject to more dismemberments than the clergy ] 
 What society has suffered more from divisions, from agi- 
 tations, from disputes, than the ecclesiastical nation 1 The 
 national churches of the majority of European states have 
 been incessantly at variance with the Roman court ; the 
 councils have been at war with the popes ; heresies have 
 been innumerable and ever springing up anew ; schism 
 always breaking out ; nowhere was ever witnessed such 
 a diversity of opinions, so much rancour in dispute, such 
 minute parcelling out of power. The internal state of 
 the Church, the disputations which have taken place, the 
 revolutions by which it has been agitated, have been per- 
 haps the greatest of all obstacles to the triumph of that 
 theocratical organization which the Church endeavour- 
 ed to impose upon society. 
 
 All these obstacles were visibly in action even so early 
 21 
 
<i42 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 as the fifth century, even at the commencement of the 
 great attempt of which we are now speaking. They did 
 not, however, prevent the continuance of its exertions, 
 nor retard its progress during several centuries. The 
 period of its greatest glory, its crisis, as it may be term- 
 ed, was the reign of Gregory the Seventh, at the end of 
 the eleventh century. We have already seen that the pre- 
 dominant w^ish of Gregory was to render the world sub- 
 servient to the clergy, the clergy to the pope, and to form 
 Europe into one immense and regular theocracy. In the 
 scheme by which this was to be effected, this great man 
 appears, so far as one can judge of events which took 
 place so long ago, to have committed two great faults — 
 one as a theorist, the other as a revolutionist. The first 
 consisted in the pompous proclamation of his plan ; in his 
 giving a systematical detail of his principles relative to the 
 nature and the rights of spiritual powder, of drawing from 
 them beforehand, like a severe logician, their remotest, 
 their ultimate consequences. He thus threatened and 
 even attacked all the lay sovereignties of Europe, without 
 having secured the means of success : not considering 
 that success in human affairs is not to be obtained by such 
 absolute proceedings, or by a mere appeal to a philosophic 
 argument. Gregory the Seventh also fell into the com- 
 mon error of all revolutionists — that of attempting more 
 than they can perform, and of not fixing the measure and 
 limits of their enterprises within the bounds of possibilitj^. 
 In order to hasten the predominance of his opinions, he 
 entered into a contest against the Empire, against all sove- 
 reigns, even against the great body of the clergy itself. 
 He never temporized — he consulted no particular inter- 
 ests, but openly proclaimed his determination to reign over 
 all kingdoms as well as over all intellects ; and thus rais- 
 ed up against him, not only all temporal powers, who dis- 
 covered the pressing danger of their situation, but also all 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 243 
 
 those who advocated the right of free inquiry, a party 
 which now began to show itself, and dreaded and exclaim- 
 ed against all tyranny over the human mind. It seems 
 indeed probable, on the whole, that Gregory the Seventh 
 injured rather than advanced the cause which he wished 
 to serve. 
 
 This cause, however, still continued to prosper through- 
 out the whole of the twelfth and down to the middle of the 
 thirteenth century. This was the epoch of the greatest 
 power and splendour of the Church. I do not think it can 
 be said that during this period she made much progress ; 
 to the end of the reign of Innocent III. she rather dis- 
 played her glory and power than increased them. But at 
 this very moment of her apparently greatest success, a 
 popular reaction seemed to declare war against her in almost 
 every part of Europe. In the south of France broke out 
 the heresy of the Albigenses, which carried away a nume- 
 rous and powerful society. Almost at the same time simi- 
 lar notions and desires appeared in the north, in Flanders. 
 WickHffe, only a little later, attacked in England, with 
 great talent, the power of the Church, and founded a sect 
 which was not destined to perish. Sovereigns soon be- 
 gan to follow the bent of their nations. It was only at 
 the beginning of the thirteenth century, that the emperors 
 of the house of Hohenstaufen, who deservedly rank among 
 the most able and powerful sovereigns of Europe, were 
 overcome in their struggle with the Holy See ; yet before 
 the end of the same century, Saint Louis, the most pious 
 of monarchs, proclaimed the independence of temporal 
 power, and published the first pragmatic sanction, which 
 has served as the basis of all the following. At the open- 
 ing of the fourteenth century began the quarrel between 
 Philip the Bel with Boniface VIII.: Edward I. of England 
 was not more obedient to the court of Rome. At this 
 epoch it is evident, that the attempt at theocratic organi- 
 
244 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 zation had failed ; the Church henceforward acted only 
 upon the defensive ; she no longer attempted to force her 
 system upon Europe ; but only considered how she might 
 keep what she possessed. It is at the end of the thir- 
 teenth century that truly dates the emancipation of the 
 laic society of Europe ; it was then that the Church gave 
 up her pretensions to its possession. 
 
 For a long time before this she had renewed this pre- 
 tension in the very sphere in which it appeared most like- 
 ly for her to be successful. For a long time in Italy itself, 
 even around the very throne of the Church, theocracy had 
 completely failed, and given way to a system its very 
 opposite in character: to that attempt at democratic or- 
 ganization, of which the Italian republics are the type, 
 and which displayed so brilliant a career in Europe from 
 the eleventh to the sixteenth century. 
 
 It w411 be remembered, that, when speaking of the free 
 cities, of their history, and of the manner of their forma- 
 tion, I observed that their growth had been more precocious 
 and vigorous in Italy than in any other country ; they were 
 here niore numerous, as well as more wealthy, than in 
 Gaul, England, or Spain ; the Roman municipal system 
 had been preserved with more life and regularity. Besides 
 this, the provinces of Italy were less fitted to become the 
 habitation of its new masters than the rest of Europe. 
 The lands had been cleared, drained, and cultivated j it 
 was not covered with forests, and the barbarians could 
 not here devote their lives to the chase, or find occupations 
 similar to what had amused them in Germany. A part of 
 this country, moreover, did not belong to them. The 
 south of Italy, the Campania, Romana, Ravenna, were still 
 dependent on the Greek emperors. Favoured by distance 
 from the seat of government, and by the vicissitudes of war, 
 the republican system soon took root, and grew very fast 
 in this portion of the country. Italy, too, besides having 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 245 
 
 never been entirely subdued by the barbarians, was fa- 
 voured by the circumstance, that the conquerors who over- 
 ran it did not remain its tranquil and lasting possessors. 
 The Ostrogoths were destroyed and driven off by Belisa- 
 rius and Narsis : the kingdom of the Lombards was not 
 permanent. The Franks overthrew it under Pepin and 
 Charlemagne, who, without exterminating the Lombard 
 population, found it their interest to ally themselves with 
 the ancient Italian inhabitants, in order to contend against 
 the Lombards with more success. The barbarians, then, 
 never became in Italy, as in the other parts of Europe, the 
 exclusive and quiet masters of the territory and people. 
 And thus it happened that the feudal system never made 
 much progress beyond the Alps, where it was but weakly 
 established, and its members few and scattered. Neither 
 did the great territorial proprietors ever gain that prepon- 
 derance here, which they did in Gaul and other countries, 
 but it continued to rest with the towns. When this result 
 clearly showed itself, a great number of the possessors of 
 fiefs, moved by choice or necessity, left their country 
 dwellings and took up their abode within the walls of some 
 city. The barbarian nobles made themselves burgesses. 
 It is easy to imagine what strength and superiority the 
 towns of Italy acquired, compared with the other commu- 
 nities of Europe, by this single circumstance. Wh?it we 
 have chiefly dwelt upon, as most observable in the char- 
 acter of town populations, is their timidity and weakness. 
 The burgesses appear like so many courageous freedmen, 
 struggling with toil and care against a master, always at 
 their gates. The fate of the Italian towns was widely 
 different ; the conquering and conquered populations here 
 mixed together within the same walls ; the towns had not 
 the trouble to defend themselves against a neighbourir_g 
 master ; their inhabitants were citizens, who, at least for 
 the most part, had always been free ; who defended their 
 21* 
 
*H&' GENERAL HISTaRY OF 
 
 independence and their rights against distant foreign 
 sovereigns ; at one time against the kings of the Franks, 
 and, at a later period, against the emperors of Germany. 
 This will in some measure account for the immense and 
 precocious superiority of the Italian cities ; while in other 
 countries we see poor insignificant communities arise after 
 great trouble and exertion ; we here see shoot up, almost 
 at once, republics — states. 
 
 Thus becomes explained, why the attempt at republican 
 organization was so successful in this part of Europe. It 
 repressed, almost in its childhood, the feudal system, and 
 became the prevailing form in society. Still it was but 
 little adapted to spread or endure ; it contained but few 
 germs of melioration, a necessary condition for the ex- 
 tension and duration of any form of government. 
 
 In looking at the history of the Italian republics, from 
 the eleventh to the fifteenth century, we are struck with 
 two facts, seemingly contradictory, yet still indisputable. 
 We see passing before us a wonderful display of courage, 
 of activity, and of genius; an amazing prosperity is the 
 result : we see a movement and a liberty unknown to the 
 rest of Europe. But if we ask what was the real state of 
 the inhabitants, how they passed their lives, what was their 
 real share of happiness, the scene changes ; there is, per- 
 haps, no history so sad, so gloomy : no period, perhaps, 
 during which the lot of man appears to have been so agita- 
 ted, subject to so many deplorable chances, and which so 
 abounds in dissensions,, crimes, and misfortunes. Another 
 fact strikes us at the same moment : in the political life of 
 the greater part of these republics, liberty was always 
 growing less and less. The want of security was so great, 
 that the people were unavoidably driven to take shelter in 
 a system less stormy, less popular, than that in which the 
 state existed. Look at the history of Florence, Venice, 
 Genoa, Milan, or Pisa; in all of them we find the course 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 247 
 
 of events, instead of aiding the progress of liberty, instead 
 of enlarging the circle of institutions, tending to repress 
 it ; tending to concentrate power in the hands of a small- 
 er number of individuals. In a word, we find in these 
 republics, otherwise so energetic, so brilliant, and so rich, 
 two things wanting — security of life, the first requisite in 
 the social state, and the progress of institutions. 
 
 From these causes sprung a new evil, which prevented 
 the attempt at republican organization from extending 
 itself. It was from without — it was from foreign sove- 
 reigns, that the greatest danger was threatened to Italy. 
 Still this danger never succeeded in reconciling these 
 republics, in making them all act in concert ; they were 
 never ready to resist in common the common enemy. This 
 has led many Italians.^ the most enlightened, the best of 
 patriots, to deplore, in the present day, the republican sys- 
 tem of Italy in the middle ages, as the true cause which 
 hindered it from becoming a nation ; it was parcelled out, 
 they say^ into a multitude of little states, not sufficiently 
 master of their passions to confederate, to constitute 
 themselves into one united body. They regret that their 
 country has not, like the rest of Europe, been subject to 
 a, despotic centralization which would have formed it into 
 a nation, and rendered it independent of the foreigner. 
 
 It appears, then, that republican organization, even 
 under the most favourable circumstances, did not contain, 
 at this period, any more than it has done since, the princi- 
 ple of progress, duration, and extension. We may com- 
 pare, up to a certain point, the organization of Italy, in 
 the middle ages^ to that of ancient Greece. Greece, like 
 Italy,^^was a country covered with little republics, always 
 rivals, sometimes enemies, and sometimes rallying to- 
 gether for a common object. In this comparison the ad- 
 vantage is altogether on the side of Greece. There is no 
 doubt, notwithstanding the frequent iniquities that history 
 
248 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 makes known, but that there was much more order, secu- 
 rity, and justice in the interior of Athens, Lacedemon, 
 and Thebes, than in the Italian republics. See, how^ever, 
 notwithstanding this, how short was the political career 
 of Greece, and w^hat a principle of weakness is contained 
 in this parcelling out of territory and power. No sooner 
 did Greece come in contact with the great neighbouring 
 states, wdth Macedon and Rome, than she fell. These 
 little republics, so glorious and still so flourishing, could 
 not coalesce to resist. How much more likely was this 
 to be the case in Italy, where society and human reason 
 had made no such strides as in Greece, and consequently 
 possessed much less power. 
 
 If the attempt at republican organization had so little 
 chance of stability in Italy where it had triumphed, where 
 the feudal system had been overcome, it may easily be 
 supposed that it was much less likely to succeed in the 
 other parts of Europe. 
 
 I shall take a rapid survey of its fortunes. 
 
 There was one portion of Europe which bore a great 
 resemblance to Italy ; the south of France, and the adjoin- 
 ing provinces of Spain, Catalonia, Navarre, and Biscay. 
 In these districts the cities had made nearly the same pro- 
 gress and had risen to considerable importance and wealth. 
 Many little feudal nobles had here allied themselves with 
 the citizens ; a part of the clergy had likewise embraced 
 their cause ; in a word, the country in these respects was 
 another Italy. So also in the course of the eleventh and 
 beginning of the twelfth century, the towais of Provence, 
 of Languedoc, and Acquitaine, made a political effort and 
 formed themselves into free republics, as had been done 
 by the towns on the other side of the Alps. But the south 
 of France \vas connected with a very powerful branch of 
 the feudal system, that of the North. The heresy of the 
 Albigenses appeared. A war broke out between feudal 
 
CIVILIZATION IN BIODERN EUROPE. ^9 
 
 France and municipal France. The history of the cru- 
 sade against the Albigenses, commanded by Simon de 
 Montfort, is well known : it was the struggle of the feu- 
 dalism of the North against the attempt at democratic 
 organization of the South. Notwithstanding the efforts 
 of Southern patriotism, the North gained the day ; politi- 
 cal unity was wanting in the South, but civilization was 
 not yet sufficiently advanced there to enable men to bring 
 it about. This attempt at republican organization was 
 put down, and the crusade re-established the feudal system 
 in the south of France. 
 
 A republican attempt succeeded better a little later, 
 among the Swiss mountains. Here, the theatre was very 
 narrow, the struggle was only against a foreign monarch, 
 who, although much more powerful than the Swiss, was 
 not one of the most formidable sovereigns of Europe. 
 The contest was carried on with a great display of cour- 
 age. The Swiss feudal nobility allied themselves, for the 
 most part, with the cities ; a powerful help, which also 
 raised the character of the revolution it sustained, and 
 stamped it with a more aristocratical and stationary char- 
 acter than it seemingly ought to have borne. 
 
 I cross to the north of France, to the free towns of 
 Flanders, to those on the banks of the Rhine, and belong- 
 ing to the Hanseatic league. Here, the democratic organ- 
 ization completely triumphed in the internal government 
 of the cities ; but from its origin, it is evident, that it was 
 not destined to take entire possession of society. The 
 free towns of the North were surrounded, pressed on 
 every side by feudalism, by barons, and sovereigns, to 
 such an extent that they were constantly obliged to stand 
 upon the defensive. It is scarcely necessary to say, that 
 they did not trouble themselves to make conquests ; they 
 defended themselves sometimes well and sometimes badly. 
 They preserved their privileges, but they remained con- 
 
250 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 fined to the inside of their walls. Within these, demo- 
 cratic organization was shut up and arrested ; if we walk 
 abroad, over the face of the country, we find no sem- 
 blance of it. 
 
 Such, then, was the state of the republican attempt : 
 triumphant in Italy, but with little hope of duration and 
 progress j vanquished in the south of Gaul ; victorious 
 upon a small scale in the mountains of Switzerland ', w^hile 
 in the North, in the free communities of Flanders, the 
 Rhine, and Hanseatic league, it was condemned not to 
 appear outside their walls. Still, even in this state, evi- 
 dently inferior to the other elements of society, it inspired 
 the feudal nobility with prodigious terror. The barons 
 became jealous of the wealth of the cities, they feared 
 their power ; the spirit of democracy stole into the coun- 
 try ; insurrections of the peasantry became more frequent 
 and obstinate. In nearly every part of Europe a coali- 
 tion was formed among the nobles against the free cities. 
 The parties were not equal ; the cities were isolated ; 
 there was no correspondence or intelligence between 
 them ; all was local. It may be true that there existed, 
 between the burgesses of different countries, a certain 
 degree of sympathy; the success or reverses of the 
 towns of Flanders, in their struggles with the dukes of 
 Burgundy, excited a lively sensation in the French cities : 
 but this was very fleeting, and led to no result ; no tie, 
 no true union became established between them ; the 
 free communities lent no assistance to one another. 
 The position of feudalism was much superior ; yet di- 
 vided, and without any plan of its own, it was never able 
 to destroy them. After the struggle had lasted a con- 
 siderable time, when the conviction became settled that 
 a complete victory was impossible, concession became 
 necessary ; these petty burgher republics were acknow- 
 ledged, negociated with, and admitted as members of 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 251 
 
 the state. A new plan was now begun, a new attempt 
 was made at political organization. The object of 
 this was to conciliate, to reconcile, to make to live and act 
 together, in spite of their rooted hostility, the various ele- 
 ments of society; that is to say, the feudal nobility, the 
 free cities, the clergy, and monarchs. It is to this at- 
 tempt at mixed organization that I have still to claim your 
 attention. 
 
 I presume there is no one who is not acquainted with 
 the nature of the States-general of France, the Cortes of 
 Spain and Portugal, the Parliament of England, and the 
 States of Germany. The elements of these various 
 assemblies were much the same ; that is to say, the 
 feudal nobility, the clergy, and the cities or commons, 
 there met together and laboured to unite themselves into 
 one sole society, into one same state, under one same law, 
 one same authority. Whatever their various names, this 
 was the tendency, the design of all. 
 
 Let us take, as the type of this attempt, the fact which 
 most interests us, as well as being best known to us — the 
 States-general of France. I say this fact is best known, 
 while I am still sure that the term States-general awakens 
 in none of you more than a vague and incomplete idea. 
 Who can say what there was in it of stability, of regu- 
 larity ; the number of its members, the subjects of their 
 deliberations, the times at which they were convoked, or 
 the length of their sessions 1 Of all this we know nothing, 
 and it is impossible to obtain from history any clear, gene- 
 ral, satisfactory information respecting it. The best ac- 
 counts we can gather from the history of France, as re- 
 gards the character of these assemblies, would almost 
 lead us to consider them as pure accidents, as the last 
 political resort both of people and kings : the last resort 
 of kings, when they had no money and knew not how to 
 free themselves from embarrassment j the last resort of the 
 
20*2 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 people, when some evil became so great that they knew 
 not what remedy to apply to it. The nobles formed part 
 of the States-general ; so did the clergy ; but they came ta 
 them with little interest, for they knew well that it was 
 not in these assemblies that they possessed the greatest 
 influence, that it was not there that they took a true part 
 in the government. The burgesses themselves were not 
 eager to attend them ; it was not a right which they were 
 anxious to exercise, but rather a necessity to which they 
 submitted. Again, what was the character of the poli- 
 tical proceedings of these assemblies! At one time we 
 find them perfectly insignificant, at others terrible. If the 
 king was the stronger, their humility and docility were 
 extreme ; if the situation of the monarch was unfortunate, 
 if he really needed the assistance of the States, they then 
 became factious, either the instrument of some aristocra- 
 tic intrigue, or of some ambitious demagogues. Their 
 works died almost always with them ; they promised much, 
 they attempted much, — and did nothing. No great mea- 
 sure which has truly had any influence upon society in 
 France, no important reform either in the general legisla- 
 tion or administration, ever emanated from the States-gene- 
 ral. It must not, however, be supposed that they have been 
 altogether useless, or without effect ; they had a moral 
 effect, of which in general we take too little account ; they 
 served from time to time as a protestation against political 
 servitude, a forcible proclamation of certain guardian 
 principles, — such, for example, as that a nation has the 
 right to vote its own taxes, to take part in its outi affairs, 
 to impose a responsibility upon the agents of power. 
 That these maxims have never perished in France, is 
 mainly owing to the States-general; and it is no slight 
 service rendered to a country, to maintain among its vir- 
 tues, to keep alive in its thoughts, the remembrance and 
 claims of liberty. The States-general has done us this 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 253 
 
 service, but it never became a means of government ; it 
 never entered upon political organization ; it never at- 
 tained the object for which it was formed, that is to say, 
 the fusion into one only body of the various societies 
 which divided the country. 
 
 The Cortes of Portugal and Spain offered the same gene- 
 ral result, though in a thousand circumstances they differ. 
 The importance of the Cortes varied according to the 
 kingdoms, and times at which they were held ; they were 
 most powerful and most frequently convoked in Arragon 
 and Biscay, during the disputes for the successions to the 
 crown, and the struggles against the Moors. To some of 
 the Cortes — for example, that of Castile, 1370 and 1373 — 
 neither the nobles nor the clergy w^ere called. There 
 were a thousand accidents which it Avould be necessary to 
 notice, if we had time to look closely into events ; but in 
 the general sketch to which I am obliged to confine my- 
 self it will be enough to state that the Cortes, like the 
 States-general of France, have been an accident in history, 
 and nev^er a sj'stem — never a political organization, or 
 regi'lar means of governm.ent. 
 
 The lot of England has been different. I shall not, how- 
 ever, enter into any detail upon this subject at present, as 
 it is my intention to devote a future lecture to the special 
 consideration of the political life of England. All I shall 
 now do is to say a few words upon the causes which gave 
 it a direction totally different from that of the continental 
 states. 
 
 And, first, there w^ere no great vassals, no subjects suf- 
 ficiently pov/erful to enter single-handed into a contest 
 with the crown. The great barons were obliged, at a 
 very early period, to coalesce, in order to make a common 
 resistance. Thus the principle of association, and pro- 
 ceedings truly political, were forced upon the high aristo- 
 cracy. Besides this, English feudalism — the little holders 
 22 
 
S54 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 of fiefs — were brought by a train of circumstances, which 
 I cannot here recount, to unite themselves with the bur- 
 gher class, to sit with them in the House of Commons; 
 and by this, the Commons obtained in England a power 
 much superior to those on the Continent, a power really 
 capable of influencing the government of the country. 
 In the fourteenth century, the character of the English 
 Parliament was already formed ; the House of Lords was 
 the great council of the king, a council eftectively asso- 
 ciated in the exercise of authority. The House of Com- 
 mons, composed of deputies from the little possessors of 
 fiefs, and from the cities, took, as yet, scarcely any part 
 in the government, properly so called ; but it asserted and 
 established rights, it defended with great spirit private 
 and local interests. Parliament, considered as a whole, 
 did not yet govern ; but already it was a regular institu- 
 tion, a means of government adopted in principle, and 
 often indispensable in fact. Thus the attempt to bring 
 together the various elements of society, and to form 
 them into one body politic, one true state or common- 
 wealth, did succeed in England while it failed in every 
 part of the Continent. 
 
 I shall not offer more than one remark upon Germany, 
 and that only to indicate the prevailing character of its 
 history. The attempts made here at political organiza- 
 tion, to melt into one body the various elements of socie- 
 ty, were spiritless and coldly followed up. These social 
 elements had remained here more distinct, more indepen- 
 dent than in the rest of Europe. Were any proof of this 
 "wanting, it might be found in its later usages. Germany 
 is the only country of Europe (I say nothing of Poland 
 and the Sclavonian nations, which entered so very late 
 into the European system of civilization) in which feudal 
 election has for a long time taken part in the election of 
 royalty ; it is likewise the only country of Europe in which 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 255 
 
 ecclesiastical sovereigns were continued ; the only one 
 in which were preserved free cities with a true political 
 existence and sovereignty. It is clear, therefore, that the 
 attempt to fuse the elements of primitive European socie- 
 ty into one social body, must have been much less active 
 and effective in Germany than in any other nation. 
 
 I have now run over all the great attempts at political 
 organization which were made in Europe, down to the end 
 of the fourteenth or beginning of the fifteenth century. 
 All these failed. I have endeavoured to point out, in 
 going along, the causes of these failures ; to speak truly, 
 they may all be summed up in one : society was not yet 
 sufficiently advanced to adapt itself to unity ; all was yet 
 too local, too special, too narrow : too many differences 
 prevailed both in things and in minds. There were no 
 general interests, no general opinions capable of guiding, 
 of bearing sway over particular interests and particular 
 opinions. The most enlightened minds, the boldest think- 
 ers, had as yet no just idea of administration or justice 
 truly public. It was evidently necessary that a very ac- 
 tive, powerful civilization should first mix, assimilate, 
 grind together, as it were, all these incoherent elements; 
 it was necessary that there should first be a strong cen- 
 tralization of interests, laws, manners, ideas j it was 
 necessary, in a word, that there should be created a public 
 authority and a public opinion. We are now drawing near 
 to the period in which this great work was at last consum- 
 mated. Its first symptoms- — the state of manners, mind, 
 and opinions, during the fifteenth century, their tendency 
 towards the formation of a central government and a pub- 
 lic opinion — will be the subject of the following lecture. 
 
25S GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 LECTURE XI, 
 
 CENTRALIZATION OF NATIONS Ai\D GOYERNRIENTS, 
 
 We have now reached the threshold of modern history? 
 in the proper sense of the term. We now approach that 
 state of society which maybe considered as our own, and 
 the institutions, the opinions, and the manners of which 
 were those of France forty years ago, are those of Europe 
 still, and, notwithstanding the changes produced by our 
 revolution, continue to exercise a powerful influence upon 
 us. It is in the sixteenth century, as I have already told 
 you, that modern society really commences. Before 
 entering into a consideration of this period, let us review 
 the ground over which we have already passed. \\ c 
 have discovered, among the ruins of the Roman Empire, 
 all the essential elements of modern Europe; we have 
 seen them separate themselves and expand, each on its 
 own account, and independently of the others. We have 
 observed, during the first historical period, the constant 
 tendency of these elements to separation, and to a local 
 and special existence. But scarcely has this object ap- 
 peared to be attained ; scarcely have feudalism, municipal 
 communities, and the clergy, each taken their distinct 
 place and form, when we have seen them tend to approxi- 
 mate, unite, and form themselves into a general social 
 system, into a national body, a national government. To 
 arrive at this result, the various countries of Europe 
 had recourse to all the different systems which existed 
 among them : they endeavoured to lay the foundations 
 of social union, and of political and moral obligations^ 
 on the principles of theocracy, of aristocracy^, of de- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 25*7 
 
 mocracy, and of monarchy. Hitherto all these attempts 
 have failed. No particular system has been able to take 
 possession of society, and to secure it, by its sway, a des- 
 tiny truly public. We have traced the cause of this fail- 
 ure to the absence of general interests and general ideas : 
 we have found that every thing, as yet, was too special, 
 too individual, too local ; that a long and powerful process 
 of centralization was necessary, in order that society 
 might become at once extensive, solid, and regular, the 
 object which it necessarily seeks to attain. Such was the 
 state in which we left Europe at the close of the four- 
 teenth century. 
 
 Europe, however, was then very far from understanding 
 her own state, such as I have now endeavoured to explain 
 it to you. She did not know distinctly what she required, 
 or what she was in search of. Yet she set about endea- 
 vouring to supply her wants as if she knew perfectly what 
 they w^ere. When the fourteenth century had expired, 
 after the failure of every attempt at political organization, 
 Europe entered naturally, and,, as if by instinct, into the 
 path of centralization. It is the characteristic of the fif- 
 teenth century that it constantly tended to this result, that 
 it endeavoured to create general interests and general 
 ideas, to raise the minds of men to more enlarged views, 
 and to create, in short, what had not, till then, existed on 
 a great scale — nations and governments. 
 
 The actual accomplishment of this change belongs to 
 the sixteenth and sev^enteenth centuries, though it was in 
 the fifteenth that it was prepared. It is this preparation, 
 this silent and hidden process of centralization, both in 
 the social relations and in the opinions of men — a process 
 accomplished, without premeditation or design, by the 
 natural course of events — that we have now to make the 
 subject of our inquiry. 
 
 It is thus, that man advances in the execution of a plan 
 22* 
 
258 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 which he has not conceived, and of which he is not even 
 aware. He is the free and intelligent artificer of a work 
 which is not his own. He does not perceive or compre- 
 hend it, till it manifests itself by external appearances and 
 real results j and even then he comprehends it very in- 
 completely. It is through his means, however, and by 
 the development of his intelligence and freedom, that it is 
 accomplished. Conceive a great machine, the design of 
 which is centered in a single mind, though its various 
 parts are intrusted to different workmen, separated from, 
 and strangers to each other. No one of them understands 
 the work as a whole, nor the general result which he con- 
 curs in producing; but every one executes, with intelli- 
 gence and freedom, by rational and voluntary acts, the 
 particular task assigned to him. It is thus, that by the 
 hand of man, the designs of Providence are wrought out 
 in the government of tfie world. It is thus that the two 
 great facts which are apparent in the history of civiliza- 
 tion come to co-exist : on the one hand, those portions 
 of it which may be considered as fated, or which hap- 
 pen without the control of human knowledge or will ; on 
 the other hand, the part played in it by the freedom and 
 intelligence of man, and what he contributes to it by 
 means of his own judgment and will. 
 
 In order that Ave may clearly understand the fifteenth 
 century; in order that we may give a distinct account of 
 this prelude, if we may use the expression, to the state of 
 society in modern times, we will separate the facts which 
 bear upon the subject into different classes. We will first 
 examine the political facts — the changes which have tend- 
 ed to the formation either of nations or of governments. 
 From thence we will proceed to the moral facts : we will 
 consider the changes which took place in ideas and in 
 manners ; and we shall then see what general opinions 
 began, from that period, to be in a state of preparation. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 259 
 
 In regard to political facts, in order to proceed with 
 quickness and simplicity, I shall survey all the great coun- 
 tries of Europe, and place before you the influence which 
 the fifteenth century had upon them — how it found them, 
 how it left them. 
 
 I shall begin with France. The last half of the four- 
 teenth, and the first half of the fifteenth century, Avere, as 
 you all know, a time of great national wars against the 
 English. This was the period of the struggle for the in- 
 dependence of the French territory and the French name 
 against foreign domination. It is sufficient to open the 
 book of history, to see with what ardour, notwithstanding 
 a multitude of treasons and dissensions, all classes of so- 
 ciety in France joined in this struggle, and what patriot- 
 ism animated the feudal nobility, the burghers, and even 
 the peasantry. If we had nothing but the story of Joan 
 of Arc to show the popular spirit of the time, it alone 
 would sufifice for that purpose. Joan of Arc sprang from 
 among the people ; it was by the sentiments, the religious 
 belief, the passions of the people, that she was inspired 
 and supported. She was looked upon with mistrust, with 
 ridicule, with enmity even, by the nobles of the court and 
 the leaders of the army ; but she had always the soldiers 
 and the people on her side. It was the peasants of Lor- 
 raine who sent her to succour the citizens of Orleans. 
 No event could show in a stronger light the popular char- 
 acter of that war and the feeling with which the v/hole 
 country engaged in it. 
 
 Thus the nationality of France began to be formed. 
 Down to the reign of the house of Valois, the feudal char- 
 acter preA'ailed in France ; a French nation, a French 
 spirit, French patriotism, as yet had no existence. AVith 
 the princes of the house of Valoise begins the history of 
 France, properly so called. It was in the course of their 
 wars, amid the various turns of their fortune, that, for the 
 
260 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 first time, the nobility, the citizens, the peasants, were 
 united by a moral tie, by the tie of a common name, a 
 common honour, and by one burning desire to overcome 
 the foreign invader. We must not, however, at this time, 
 expect to find among them any real political spirit, any 
 great design of unity in government and institutions, ac- 
 cording to the conceptions of the present day. The unity 
 of France, at that period, dwelt in her name, in her na- 
 tional honour, in the existence of a national monarchy, 
 no matter of what character, provided that no foreigner 
 had any thing to do with it. It w^as in this way that the 
 struggle against the English contributed strongly to form 
 the French nation, and to impel it tow^ards unity. 
 
 At the same time that France was thus forming herself 
 in a moral point of view, she was also extending herself 
 physically, as it may be called, by enlarging, fixing, and 
 consolidating her territory. This was the period of the 
 incorporation of most of the provinces which now consti- 
 tute France. Under Charles VII., after the expulsion of 
 the English, almost all the provinces which they had oc- 
 cupied — Normandy, Angoumois^ Touraine, Poitou, Saint- 
 onge, &;c., became definitively French. Under Louis XL, 
 ten provinces, three of which have been since lost and 
 regained, w^ere also united to France — Roussillon and 
 Cerdagne, Burgundy, Franche-Conte, Picardy, Artois, 
 Provence, Maine, Anjou, and Perche. Under Charles 
 VIII. and Louis XII. the suc<^essive marriages of Anne 
 with these two kings gave her Britany. Thus, at the same 
 period, and during the course of the same events, France, 
 morally as well as physically^ acquired at once strength 
 and unity. 
 
 Let us turn from the nation to the government, and we 
 shall see the accomplishment of events of the same nature j 
 we shall advance towards the same result. The French 
 gavernment had never been more destitute of unity, of co- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 261 
 
 hesion, and of strength, than under the reign of Charles 
 VI , and dnring the first part of the reign of Charles VII. 
 At the end of this reign, the appearance of every thing was 
 changed. There were evident marks of a power which was 
 confirming, extending, organizing itself. All the great 
 resources of government, taxation, military force, and 
 administration of justice, w^ere created on a great scale, 
 and almost simultaneously. This was the period of the 
 formation of a standing army, of permanent militia, and 
 of compagnies-d- ordonnaiice^ consisting of cavalry, free 
 archers, and infantry. By these companies, Charles VII. 
 re-established a degree of order in the provinces, which 
 had been desolated by the license and exactions of the 
 soldiery, even after the w^ar had ceased. All contempo- 
 rary historians expatiate on the wonderful effects of the 
 compagnieS'd^ ordonnance. It was at this period that the 
 taille^ one of the principal revenues of the crown, was 
 made perpetual ; a serious inroad on the liberty of the 
 people, but which contributed powerfully to the regularity 
 and strength of the government. At the same time the 
 great instrument of power, the administration of justice, 
 was extended and organized 5 parliaments w^ere multi- 
 plied, five new parliaments having been instituted in a 
 short space of time : — under Louis XI , the parliaments 
 of Grenoble (in 1451), of Bordeaux (in 1462), and of Di- 
 jon (in 1477) ; under Louis XII., the parliaments of Rouen 
 (in 1499), and of Aix (in 1501). The parliament of Paris 
 also acquired, about the same time, much additional im- 
 portance and stability, both in regard to the administra- 
 tion of justice, and the superintendence of the police 
 within its jurisdiction. 
 
 Thus, in relation to the military force, the power of 
 taxation, and the administration of justice, that is to say, 
 in regard to those things which form its essence, govern- 
 ment acquired in France, in the fifteenth century, a char- 
 
262 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 acter of unity, regularity, and permanence, previously 
 unknown ; and the feudal powers were finally superseded 
 by the power of the state. 
 
 At the same time, too, was accomplished a change of 
 very different character ; a change not so visible, and 
 which has not so much attracted the notice of historians, 
 but still more important, perhaps, than those which have 
 been mentioned ; — the change effected by Louis XI. in 
 the mode of governing. 
 
 A great deal has been said about the struggle of Louis 
 XL against the grandees of the kingdom, of their depres- 
 sion, and of his partiality for the citizens and the inferior 
 classes. There is truth in all this, though it has been 
 much exaggerated, and though the conduct of Louis XL 
 towards the different classes of society more frequently 
 disturbed than benefited the state. But he did something 
 of deeper import. Before his time the government had 
 been carried on almost entirely by force, and by mere 
 physical means. Persuasion, address, care in working 
 upon men's minds, and in bringing them over to the views 
 of the government — in a word, what is properly called 
 policy — a policy, indeed, of falsehood and deceit, but also 
 of management and prudence — had hitherto been little 
 attended to. Louis XL substituted intellectual for mate- 
 rial means, cunning for force, Italian for feudal policy. 
 Take the two men whose rivalry engrosses this period of 
 our history, Charles the Bold and Louis XL : Charles is 
 the representative of the old mode of governing ; he has 
 recourse to no other means than violence j he constantly 
 appeals to arms ; he is unable to act with patience, or to 
 address himself to the dispositions and tempers of men 
 in order to make them the instruments of his designs. 
 Louis XL, on the contrary, takes pleasure in avoiding 
 the use offeree, and in gaining an ascendency over men, 
 by conversation with individuals^ and by skilfully bring- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 263 
 
 ing into play their interests and peculiarities of char- 
 acter. It was not the public institutions or the exter- 
 nal system of governnnent that he changed j it was the 
 secret proceedings, the tactics, of power. It was reserv- 
 ed for modern times to attempt a still greater revolu- 
 tion ; to endeavour to introduce into the means, as well 
 as the objects, of public policy, justice in place of self- 
 interest, publicity instead of cunning. Still, however, a 
 great step was gained by renouncing the continued use of 
 force, by calling in the aid of intellectual superiority, by 
 governing through the understandings of men, and not by 
 overturning every thing that stood in the way of the ex- 
 ercise of power. This is the great change which, among 
 all his errors and crimes, in spite of the perversity of his 
 nature, and solely by the strength of his powerful intel- 
 lect, Louis XI. has the merit of having begun. 
 
 From France I turn to Spain j and there I find move- 
 ments of the same nature. It was also in the fifteenth 
 century that Spain was consolidated into one kingdom. 
 At this time an end was put to the long struggle between 
 the Christians and Moors, by the conquest of Grenada. 
 Then, too, the Spanish territory became centralized : by 
 the marriage of Ferdinand the catholic, and Isabella, the 
 two principal kingdoms, Castile and Arragon, were united 
 under the same dominion. In the same manner as in 
 France, the monarchy was extended and confirmed. It 
 was supported by severer institutions, which bore more 
 gloomy names. Instead of parliaments, it was the inqui- 
 sition that had its origin in Spain. It contained the germ 
 of what it afterwards became j but at first it was of a po- 
 litical rather than a religious nature, and was destined to 
 maintain civil order rather than defend religious faith. 
 The analogy between the countries extends beyond their 
 institutions ; it is observable even in the persons of the soa'- 
 ereigns. With less subtlety of intellect, and a less active 
 
•264 GEiNERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 and intriguing spirit, Ferdinand the catholic, in his char- 
 acter and governnment, strongly resembles Louis XI. 
 1 pay no reirard' to arbitrary comparisons or fanciful par- 
 allels ; but here the analogy is strong, and observable in 
 o-eneral facts as well as in minute details. 
 
 A similar analogy may be discovered in Germany. It 
 was in the middle of the fifteenth century, in 1438, that 
 the house of Austria came to the empire ; and that the im- 
 perial power acquired a permanence which it had never 
 before possessed. From that time election was merely a 
 sanction given to hereditary right. At the end of the fif- 
 teenth century, Maximilian I. definitively established the 
 preponderance of his house and the regular exercise of 
 the central authority ; Charles VII. was the first in France 
 who, for the preservation of order, created a permanent 
 militia ; Maximilian, too, was the first in his hereditary 
 dominions, who accomplished the same end by the same 
 means. Louis XL had established in France, the post- 
 oflice for the conveyance of letters; Maximilian I. intro- 
 duced it into Germany. In the progress of civilization the 
 same steps were everywhere taken, in a similar way, for 
 the advantage of central government. 
 
 Thehistory of England in the fifteenth century consists 
 of two great events — the war with France abroad, and the 
 contest of the two Roses at home. These two wars, 
 though different in their nature, were attended with simi- 
 lar results. The contest with France was maintained by 
 the English people Avith a degree of ardour which went en- 
 tirely to the profit of royalty. The people, already remark- 
 able for the prudence and determination with which they 
 defended their resources and treasures, surrendered them 
 at that period to their monarchs, without foresight or mea- 
 sure. It was in the reign of Henry V. that a considerable 
 tax, consisting of custom-house duties, was granted to the 
 king for his lifetime, almost at the beginning of his reign. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 265 
 
 The foreign war was scarcely ended, M'hen the civil war, 
 which had already broken out, was carried on ; the houses 
 of York and Lancaster disputed the throne. When at length 
 these sanguinary struggles were brought to an end, the 
 English nobility were ruined, diminished in number, and 
 no longer able to preserve the power which they had pre- 
 viously exercised. The coalition of the great barons 
 was no longer able to govern the throne. The Tudors as- 
 cended it ; and Vv^ith Henry VII., in 1485, begins the era 
 of political centralization, the triumph of royalty. 
 
 Monarchy did not establish itself in Italy, at least under 
 that name; but this made little difference as to the result. 
 It Avas in the fifteenth century that the fall of the Italian 
 republics took place. Even where the name was retained, 
 the power became concentrated in the hands of one, or of 
 a few families. The spirit of republicanism was extin- 
 guished. In the north of Italy, almost all the Lombard re- 
 publics merged in the Dutchy of Milan. In 1434, Florence 
 fell under the dominion of the Medicis. In 1464, Genoa be- 
 came subject to Milan. The greater part of the republics, 
 great and small, yielded to the power of sovereign houses ; 
 and soon afterwards began the pretensions of foreign sove- 
 reigns to the dominion of the north and south of Italy ; 
 to the Milanese and kingdom of Naples. 
 
 Indeed, to whatever country of Europe we cast our 
 eyes, whatever portion of its history w^e consider, whether 
 it relates to the nations themselves or their governments, 
 to their territories or their institutions, we everywhere 
 see the old elements, the old forms of society, disappearing. 
 Those liberties which were founded on tradition were 
 lost ; new powers arose, more regular and concentrated 
 than those which previously existed. There is something 
 deeply melancholy in this view of the fall of the ancient 
 liberties of Europe. Even in its own time it inspired feel- 
 ings of the utmost bitterness. In France, in Germany, 
 
 23 
 
266 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 and above all, in Italy, the patriots of the fifteenth century 
 resisted with ardour, and lamented with despair, that re- 
 volution which everywhere produced the rise of what they 
 were entitled to call despotism. We must admire their 
 courage and feel for their sorrow ; but at the same time 
 we must be aware that this revolution was not only inevi- 
 table, but useful. The primitive system of Europe — the 
 old feudal and municipal liberties — had failed in the or- 
 ganization of a general society. Security and progress 
 are essential to social existence. Every system which 
 does not provide for present order, and progressive ad- 
 vancement for the future, is vicious, and speedily aban- 
 doned. And this was the fate of the old political forms 
 of society, of the ancient liberties of Europe in the fif- 
 teenth century. They could not give to society either 
 security or progress. These objects naturally became 
 sought for elsewhere j to obtain them, recourse was had 
 to other principles and other means : and this is the import 
 of all the facts to which I have just called your attention. 
 To this same period may be assigned another circum- 
 stance which has had a great influence on the political 
 history of Europe. It was in the fifteenth century that 
 the relations of governments with each other began to be 
 frequent, regular, and permanent. Now, for the first time, 
 became formed those great combinations by means of alli- 
 ance, for peaceful as well as warlike objects, which at a 
 later period, gave rise to the system of the balance of 
 power. European diplomacy originated in the fifteenth 
 century. In fact you may see, towards its close, the prin- 
 cipal powers of the continent of Europe, the Popes, the 
 Dukes of Milan, the Venetians, the German Emperors, 
 and the Kings of France and Spain, entering into a closer 
 correspondence with each other than had hitherto existed ; 
 negotiating, combining, and balancing their various inter- 
 ests. Thus at the very time when Charles VIII. set on 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 267 
 
 foot his expedition to conquer the kingdom of Naples, a 
 great league was formed against him, between Spain, the 
 Pope, and the Venetians. The league of Cambray was 
 formed some years later (in 1508), against the Venetians. 
 The holy league directed against Louis XII. succeeded, in 
 1511, to the league of Cambray. All these combinations 
 had their rise in Italian policy ; in the desire of different 
 sovereigns to possess its territory ; and in the fear lest 
 any of them, by obtaining an exclusive possession, should 
 acquire an excessive preponderance. This new order of 
 thino-s was very favourable to the career of monarchy. 
 On the one hand it belongs to the very nature of the ex- 
 ternal relations of states, that they can be conducted only 
 by a single person, or by a very small number, and that 
 they require a certain degree of secrecy : on the other 
 hand, the people were so little enlightened that the conse- 
 quences of a combination of this kind quite escaped them. 
 As it had no direct bearing on their individual or domes- 
 tic life, they troubled themselves little about it ; and, as 
 usual, left such transactions to the discretion of the cen- 
 tral government. Thus diplomacy, in its very birth, fell 
 into the hands of kings ; and the opinion, that it belongs 
 to them exclusively ; that the nation, even when free, and 
 possessed of the right of voting its own taxes, and inter- 
 fering in the management of its domestic affairs, has no 
 right to intermeddle in foreign matters ;^— -this opinion, I 
 say, became established in all parts of Europe, as a settled 
 principle, a maxim of common law. Look into the his- 
 tory of England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centu- 
 ries ; and you will observe the great influence of that 
 opinion, and the obstacles it presented to the liberties of 
 England in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and Charles 
 I. It is always under the sanction of the principle, that 
 peace and war, commercial relations, and all foreign af- 
 fairs, belong to the royal prerogative, that absolute power 
 
268 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 defends itself against the rights of the country. The 
 people are remarkably timid in disputing this portion of 
 the prerogative ; and their timidity has cost them the 
 dearer, for this reason, that, from the commencement of 
 the period into which we are now entering (that is to say, 
 the sixteenth century), the history of Europe is essen- 
 tially diplomatic. For nearly three centuries, foreign rela- 
 tions form the most important part of history. The do- 
 mestic affairs of countries began to be regularly con- 
 ducted ; the internal government, on the Continent at 
 least, no longer produced any violent convulsions, and no 
 longer kept the public mind in a state of agitation and 
 excitement. Foreign relations, wars, treaties, alliances, 
 alone occupy the attention and fill the page of history ; 
 so that we find the destinies of nations abandoned in a 
 great measure to the royal prerogative, to the central 
 power of the state. 
 
 It could scarcely have happened otherwise. Civiliza- 
 tion must have made great progress, intelligence and po- 
 litical habits must be widely diffused, before the public 
 can interfere with advantage, in matters of this kind. 
 From the sixteenth to the eighteenth century, the people 
 were far from being sufficiently advanced to do so. Ob- 
 serve what occurred in England, under James I , at the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century. His son-in-law, the 
 Elector Palatine, who had been elected king of Bohemia, 
 had lost his crown, and had even been stripped of. his he- 
 reditary dominions, the Palatinate. Protestantism every- 
 where espoused his cause ; and, on this ground, England 
 took a warm interest in it. There was a great manifesta- 
 tion of public opinion in order to force James to take the 
 part of his son-in-law, and obtain for him the restoration 
 of the Palatinate. Parliament insisted violently for war, 
 promising ample means to carry it on. James was indif- 
 ferent on the subject; he made several attempts to nego- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 269 
 
 tiate, and sent some troops to Germany ; he then told 
 parliament that he required £900,000 sterling-, to carry- 
 on the war with any chance of success. It is not said, and 
 indeed it does not appear, that his estimate was exagge- 
 rated. But parliament shrunk back with astonishment and 
 terror at the sound of such a sum, and could hardly be pre- 
 vailed upon to vote j£70,000 sterling, to reinstate a prince, 
 and re-conquer a country three hundred leagues distant 
 from England. Such were the ignorance and political 
 incapacity of the public in affairs of this nature ; they 
 acted without any knowledge of facts, or any considera- 
 tion of consequences. How then could they be capable 
 of interfering in a regular and effectual manner 1 This 
 is the cause which principally contributed to make foreign 
 relations fall into the hands of the central power ; no other 
 was in a condition to conduct them, I shall not say for 
 the public benefit, which was very far from being always 
 consulted, but with any thing like consistency and good 
 sense. 
 
 It may be seen, then, that in whatever point of view we 
 regard the political history of Europe at this period — ■ 
 whether we look upon the internal condition of different 
 nations, or upon their relation with each other — whether 
 we consider the means of warfare, the administration of 
 justice, or the levying of taxes, we find them pervaded by 
 the sam« character ; we see everywhere the same ten- 
 dency to centralization, to unity, to the formation and 
 preponderance of general interests and public powers. 
 This was the hidden working of the fifteenth century,' 
 which, at the period we are speaking of, had not yet pro- 
 duced any very apparent result, or any actual revolution 
 in society, but was preparing all those consequences 
 which afterwards took place. I shall now bring before 
 you a class of facts of a different nature ; moral facts, 
 such as stand in relation to the development of the human 
 23* 
 
270 GENERAJL HISTORY OF 
 
 mind and the formation of general ideas. In these again 
 Ave shall discover the same phenomena, and arrive at the 
 same result. 
 
 I shall begin with an order of facts which has often 
 engaged our attention, and under the most various forms, 
 has always held an important place in the history of Eu- 
 rope — the facts relative to the Church. Down to the fif- 
 teenth century, the only general ideas which had a pow- 
 erful influence on the masses were those connected with 
 religion. The Church alone was invested with the power 
 of regulating, promulgating, and prescribing them. At- 
 tempts, it is true, at independence, and even at separation, 
 were frequently made ; and the Church had much to do 
 to overcome them. Down to this period, however, she 
 had been successful. Creeds rejected by the Church had 
 never taken any general or permanent hold on the minds 
 of the people : even the Albigenses had been repressed. 
 Dissension and strife were incessant in the Church, but 
 without any decisive and striking result. The fifteenth 
 century opened with the appearance of a different state 
 of things. New ideas, and a public and avowed desire of 
 change and reformation, began to agitate the Church her- 
 self. The end of the fourteenth and beginning of the 
 fifteenth century were marked by the great schism of the 
 west, resulting from the removal of the papal chair to 
 Avignon, and the creation of two popes, one at Avignon, 
 and the other at Rome, The contest between these two pa- 
 pacies is what is called the great schism of the west. It 
 began in 1378. In 1409, the Council of Pisa endeavoured 
 to put an end to it by deposing the two rival popes and 
 electing another. But, instead of ending the schism, this 
 step only rendered it more violent. 
 
 There were now three popes instead of two ; and dis- 
 orders and abuses went on increasing. In 1414, the 
 Council of Constance assembled, convoked by desire of 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 271 
 
 the Emperor Sigismund. This Council set about a matter 
 of far more importance than the nomination of a new pope ; 
 it undertook the reformation of the Church. It began by 
 proclaiming the indissolubility of the universal council, 
 and its superiority over the papal power. It endeavoured 
 to establish these principles in the Church, and to reform 
 the abuses which had crept into it, particularly the exac- 
 tions by which the court of Rome obtained money. To 
 accomplish this object the council appointed what we 
 should call a commission of inquiry, in other words, a 
 Reform College^ composed of deputies to the council, 
 chosen in the different Christian nations. This college 
 was directed to inquire into the abuses which polluted the 
 Church, and into the means of remedying them, and to 
 make a report to the council, in order that it might deli- 
 berate on the proceedings to be adopted. But while the 
 council was thus engaged, the question was started, whe- 
 ther it could proceed to the reform of abuses without the 
 visible concurrence of the head of the Church, without 
 the sanction of the pope. It was carried in the negative 
 through the influence of the Roman party, supported by 
 some well-m.eaning but timid individuals. The council 
 elected a new pope, Martin V., in 1417. The pope was 
 instructed to present, on his part, a plan for the reform of 
 the Church. This plan was rejected, and the council sepa- 
 rated. In 1431, a new council assembled at Bale, with 
 the same design. It resumed and continued the reform- 
 ing labours of the Council of Constance, but with no better 
 success. Schism broke out in this assembly as it had 
 done in Christendom. The pope removed the council to 
 Ferrara, and afterwards to Florence. A portion of the 
 prelates refused to obey the pope, and remained at Bale ; 
 and, as there had been formerly two popes, so now there 
 were two councils. That of Bale continued its projects of 
 reform ; named as its pope, Felix V. j some time after- 
 
272 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 wards removed to Lausanne j and dissolved itself in 1'4<49, 
 without having effected any thing. 
 
 In this manner papacy gained the day, remained in pos- 
 session of the field of battle, and of the government of the 
 Church. The council could not accomplish that which 
 it had set about ; but it did something else which it had 
 not thought of, and which survived its dissolution. Just 
 at the time the Council of Bale failed in its attempts at 
 reform, sovereigns were adopting the ideas which it had 
 proclaimed, and some of the institutions which it had sug- 
 gested. In France, and with the decrees of the Council 
 of Bale, Charles VII. formed the pragmatic sanction, 
 which he proclaimed at Bourges in 1438 ; it authorized 
 the election of bishops, the suppression of annates, (or 
 first-fruits,) and the reform of the principal abuses intro-- 
 duced into the Church. The pragmatic sanction was de-. 
 clared in France to be a law of the state. In Germany, 
 the Diet of Mayence adopted it in 1439, and also made it 
 a law of the German empire. What spiritual power had 
 tried without success, temporal power seemed determined 
 to accomplish. 
 
 But the projects of the reformers met with a new re- 
 verse of fortune. As the council had failed, so did the 
 pragmatic sanction. It perished very soon in Germany. 
 It was abandoned by the Diet in 1448, in virtue of a nego- 
 tiation with Nicholas V. In 1516, Francis I. abandoned 
 it also, substituting for it his concordat with Leo X. The 
 reform attempted by princes did not succeed better than 
 that set on foot by the clergy. But we must not conclude 
 that it was entirety thrown away. In like manner as the 
 council had done things which survived it, so the prag- 
 matic sanction had effects which survived it also, and will 
 be found to make an important figure in modern history. 
 The principles of the Council of Bale were strong and fruit- 
 ful. Men of superior minds, and of energetic characters. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 273 
 
 had adopted and maintained them. John of Paris, D'Ailly, 
 Gerson,and many distinguished men of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, had devoted themselves to their defence. It was in 
 vain that the council was dissolved ; it was in vain that the 
 pragmatic sanction was abandoned; their general doctrines 
 respecting the government of the Church, and the reforms 
 which were necessary, took root in France. They were 
 spread abroad, found their way into parliaments, took a 
 strong hold of the public mind, and gave birth first to the 
 Jansenists, and then to the Gallicans. This entire series 
 of maxims and efforts tending to the reform of the Church, 
 which began with the Council of Constance, and termina- 
 ted in the four propositions of Bossuet, emanated from the 
 same source, and was directed to the same object. It is 
 the same fact which has undergone successive transforma- 
 tions. Notwithstanding the failure of the legal attempts 
 at reform made in the fifteenth century, they indirectly 
 had an immense influence upon the progress of civiliza- 
 tion ; and must not be left out of its history. 
 
 The councils were right in trying for a legal reform, 
 for it was the only way to prevent a revolution. Nearly 
 at the time when the Council of Pisa was endeavouring to 
 put an end to the great western schism, and the Council 
 of Constance to reform the Church, the first attempts at 
 popular religious reform broke out in Bohemia. The 
 preaching of John Huss, and his progress as a reformer, 
 commenced in 1404, when he began to teach at Prague. 
 Here, then, we have two reforms going on side by side ; 
 the one in the very bosom of the Church, — attempted by 
 the ecclesiastical aristocracy itself, — cautious, embar- 
 rassed, and timid ; the other originating without the 
 Church, and directed against it, — violent, passionate, and 
 impetuous. A contest began between these two powers, 
 these two parties. The council enticed John Huss and 
 Jerome of Praofue to Constance, and condemned them to 
 
274* GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the flames as heretics and revolutionists. These events 
 are perfectly intelligible to us now. We can very well 
 understand this simultaneous existence of separate re- 
 forms, one undertaken by governments, the other by the 
 people, hostile to each other, yet springing from the same 
 cause, and tending to the same object, and, though op- 
 posed to each other, finally concurring in the same result. 
 This is what happened in the fifteenth century. The 
 popular reform of John Huss was stifled for the moment ; 
 the war of the Hussites broke out three or four years af- 
 ter the death of their master ; it was long and violent, but 
 at last the empire was successful in subduing it. The 
 failure of the councils in the work of reform, their not be- 
 ing able to attain the object they were aiming at, only 
 kept the public mind in a state of fermentation. The 
 spirit of reform still existed ; it waited but for an oppor- 
 tunity again to break out, and this it found at the begin- 
 ning of the sixteenth century. Had the reform under- 
 taken by the councils been brought to any good issue, 
 perhaps the popular reform would have been prevented. 
 But it was impossible that one or the other of them should 
 not succeed, for their coincidence shows their necessity. 
 Such, then, is the state, in respect to religious creeds, 
 in which Europe was left by the fifteenth century: an 
 aristocratic reform attempted without success, with a pop- 
 ular suppressed reform begun, but still ready to break out 
 anew. It was not solely to religious creeds that the human 
 mind was directed, and busied itself about at this period. 
 It was in the course of the fourteenth century, as you all 
 know, that Greek and Roman antiquity was (if I may use 
 the expression) restored to Europe. You know with what 
 ardour Dante, Petrarch, Boccacio, and all their contem- 
 poraries, sought for Greek and Latin manuscripts, pub- 
 lished them, and spread them abroad ; and what general 
 joy was produced by the smallest discovery in this branch 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 275 
 
 of learning. It was in the midst of this excitement that 
 the classical school took its rise ; a school which has per- 
 formed a much more important part in the development of 
 the human mind than has generally been ascribed to it. 
 But we must be cautious of attaching to this term, classical 
 school, the meaning given to it at present. It had to do, 
 in those days, with matters very different from literary 
 systems and disputes. The classical school of that period 
 inspired its disciples with admiration, not only for the 
 writings of Virgil and Homer, but for the entire frame of 
 ancient society, for its institutions, its opinions, its phi- 
 losophy, as vrell as its literature. Antiquity, it must be 
 allowed, whether as regards politics, philosophy or liter- 
 ature, was greatly superior to the Europe of the fourteenth 
 and fifteenth centuries. It is not surprising, therefore, 
 that it should have exercised so great an influence ; that 
 lofty, vigorous, elegant, and fastidious minds should have 
 been disgusted with thQ coarse manners, the confused 
 ideas, the barbarous modes of their own time, and should 
 have devoted themselves with enthusiasm, and almost 
 with veneration, to the study of a state of society, at once 
 more regular and more perfect than their own. Thus was 
 formed that school of bold thinkers which appeared at the 
 commencement of the fifteenth century, and in which 
 prelates, jurists, and men of learning were united by com- 
 mon sentiments and common pursuits. 
 
 In the midst of this movement happened the taking of 
 Constantinople by the Turks, the fall of the Eastern em- 
 pire, and the influx of the fugitive Greeks into Italy. 
 These brought with them a greater knowledge of anti- 
 quity, numerous manuscripts, and a thousand new means 
 of studying the civilization of the ancients. You may 
 easily imagine how this must have redoubled the admira- 
 tion and ardour of the classic school. This was the most 
 brilliant period of the Church, especially in Italy, not in 
 
^76 GEiNERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 respect of political power, but of wealth and luxury. The 
 Church gave herself up to all the pleasures of an indolent, 
 elegant, licentious civilization ; to a taste for letters, the 
 arts, and social and physical enjoyments. Look at the 
 way in which the men who played the greatest political 
 and literary parts at that period passed their lives ; Cardi- 
 nal Bembo, for example ; and you will be surprised by the 
 mixture which it exhibits of luxurious effeminacy and in- 
 tellectual culture, of enervated manners and mental vigour. 
 In surveying this period, indeed, when we look at the 
 state of opinions and of social relations, we might imagine 
 ourselves living among the French of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. There was the same desire for the progress of in- 
 telligence, and for the acquirement of new ideas ; the 
 same taste for an agreeable and easy life, the same lux- 
 ury, the same licentiousness 5 there was the same want of 
 political energy and of moral principles, combined with 
 singular sincerity and activity of mind. The literati of the 
 fifteenth century stood in the same relation to the prelates 
 of the Church as the men of letters and philosophers of 
 the eighteenth did to the nobility. They had the same 
 opinions and manners, lived agreeably together, and gave 
 themselves no uneasiness about the storms that were brew- 
 ing round them. The prelates of the fifteenth century, and 
 Cardinal Bembo among the rest, no more foresaw Luther 
 and Calvin than the courtiers of Louis XIV. foresaw the 
 French revolution. The analogy between the two cases 
 is striking and instructive. 
 
 We observe, then, three great facts in the moral order 
 of society at this period ; on one hand, an ecclesiastical 
 reform attempted by the Church itself ; on another a pop- 
 ular, religious reform ; and lastly, an intellectual revolu- 
 tion^ which formed a school of free-thinkers j and all these 
 transformations were prepared in the midst of the great- 
 est political change that has ever taken place in Europe, 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 277 
 
 in the midst of the process of the centralization of na- 
 tions and governments. 
 
 But this is not aU. The period in question was also 
 one of the most remarkable for the display of physical 
 activity among men. It was a period of voyages, travels, 
 enterprises, discoveries and inventions of every kind. It 
 was the time of the great Portuguese expeditions along 
 the coast of Africa ; of the discovery of the new passage 
 to India by the Cape of Good Hope, by Vasco de Gama ; 
 of the discovery of America, by Christopher Columbus; 
 of the wonderful extension of European commerce. A 
 thousand new inventions started up; others already 
 known, but confined within a narrow sphere, became pop- 
 ular and in general use. Gunpowder changed the sys- 
 tem of war ; the compass changed the system of naviga- 
 tion. Painting in oil was invented, and filled Europe with 
 masterpieces of art. Engraving on copper, invented in 
 14?06, multiplied and diffused them. Paper made of linen 
 became common. Finally, between 1436 and 1452, was 
 invented printing ; — printing, the theme of so many de- 
 clamations and common-places, but to whose merits and 
 effect no common-places or declamations will ever be 
 able to do justice. 
 
 From all this, some idea may be formed of the great- 
 ness and activity of the fifteenth century; a greatness 
 which, at the time, was not very apparent ; an activity of 
 which the results did not immediately take place. Vio- 
 lent reforms seemed to fail ; governments acquired stabil- 
 ity. It might have been supposed that society w^as now 
 about to» enjoy the benefits of better order, and more rapid 
 progress. The mighty revolutions of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury were at hand ; the fifteenth century prepared them. 
 — They shall be the subject of the following lecture. 
 
 24 
 
278 GENERAL HISTORY OP 
 
 LECTURE XII. 
 
 THE REFORBIATION. 
 
 I HAVE often referred to and lamented the disorder, the 
 chaatic situation of European society ; I have complained 
 of the difficulty of comprehending and describing a state 
 of society so loose, so scattered, and incoherent; and I 
 have keptyouwaitingwith impatience forthe period of gen- 
 eral interests, order, and social union. This period we have 
 now reached ; but, in treating of it, we encounter a diffi- 
 culty of another kind. Hitherto, we have found it difficult 
 to connect historical facts one with another, to class them 
 together, to seize their common features, to discover their 
 points of resemblance. The case is different in modern 
 Europe ; all the elements, all the incidents of social life 
 modify, act and re-act upon each other ; the mutual rela- 
 tions of men are much more numerous and complicated ; 
 so also are their relations with the government and the 
 state, the relations of states with each other, and all the 
 ideas and operations of the human mind. In the periods 
 through which we have already travelled, we have found a 
 great number of facts which were insulated, foreign to 
 each other, and without any reciprocal influence. From 
 this time, however, we find nothing insulated ; all things 
 press upon one another, and become modified and changed 
 by their mutr.al contact and friction. What, let .me ask, 
 can be more difficult than to seize the real point of unity 
 in the midst of such diversity, to determine the direction 
 of such a widely spread and complicated movement, to 
 sum up this prodigious number of various and closely con- 
 nected elements, to point out at last the general and lead- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 279 
 
 ing fact which is the sum of a long series of facts ; which 
 characterizes an era, and is the true expression of its 
 influence, and of the part it has performed in the history 
 of civilization! You will be able to measure at a glance 
 the extent of this difficulty, in the great event which is 
 now to engage our attention. 
 
 In the twelfth century we met with an event which was 
 religious in its origin, if not in its nature j I mean the 
 Crusades. Notwithstanding the greatness of this event, 
 its long duration, and the variety of incidents which it 
 brought about, it was easy enough for us to discover its 
 general character, and to determine its influence with some 
 degree of precision. We have now to consider the reli- 
 gious revolution of the sixteenth century, which is com- 
 monly called THE Reformation. Let me be permitted to 
 say in passing, that I shall use this word reformation as a 
 simple, ordinary term, synonymous with religious revo- 
 lution^ and without attaching it to any opinion. You must, 
 I am sure, foresee at once, how difficult it is to discover 
 the real character of this great crisis, and to explain in a 
 general manner what has been its nature and its eflects. 
 
 The period of our inquiry must extend from the begin- 
 ning of the sixteenth to the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury ; for this period embraces, so to speak, the life of 
 this event from its birth to its termination. All historical 
 events have in some sort a determinate career. Their 
 consequences are prolonged to infinity ; they are con- 
 nected with all the past and ail the future ; but it is not 
 the less true, on this account, that they have a definite 
 and limited existence ; that they have their origin and 
 their increase, occupy with their development a certain 
 portion of time, and then diminish and disappear from the 
 scene, to make way for some new event which runs a 
 similar course. 
 
 The precise date which may be assigned to the Reforma- 
 
280 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 tion is not of much importance. We may take the year 
 1520, when Luther publicly burnt at Wittemberg the bull 
 of Leo X., containing his condemnation, and thus formally 
 separatedhimself from the Romish Church. The interval 
 between this period and the middle of the seventeenth 
 century, the year 1648, when the treaty of Westphalia was 
 concluded, comprehends the life of the Reformation. That 
 this is the case, maybe thus proved. The first and great- 
 est effect of the religious revolution was to create in Eu- 
 rope two classes of states, the Catholic and the Protestant, 
 to set them against each other and force them into hostili- 
 ties. With many vicissitudes, the struggle between these 
 two parties lasted from the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century to the middle of the seventeenth. It vv^as by the 
 treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, that the Catholic and Pro- 
 testant states reciprocally acknowledged each other, and 
 engaged to live in amity and peace, without regard to 
 difTerence of religion. After this, from 1648, difierence 
 of religion ceased to be the leading principle of the clas- 
 sification of states, of their external policy, their relations 
 and alliances. Down to that time, notwithstanding great 
 variations, Europe was essentiallj^ divided into a Catholic 
 league and a Protestant league. After the treaty of West- 
 phalia this distinction disappeared ; and alliances or divi- 
 sions among states took place from considerations alto- 
 gether foreign to religious belief. At this point, therefore, 
 the preponderance, or, in other words, the career of the 
 Reformation came to an end, although its consequences, 
 instead of decreasing, continued to develop themselves. 
 
 Let us now take a rapid survey of this career, and 
 merely mentioning names and events, point out its course. 
 You will see from this simple indication, from this dry and 
 incomplete outline, what must be the difficulty of summing 
 up a series of such various and complicated facts into one 
 general fact ; of determining what is the true character of 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 281 
 
 the religious revolution of the sixteenth century, and of 
 assigning to it its true part in the history of civilization. 
 
 The moment in which the Reformation broke out is re- 
 markable for its political im.portance. It was in the midst 
 of the great strup;gle between Francis and Charles V.— 
 between France and Spain ; a struggle, at first for the pos- 
 session of Italy, but afterwards for the German empire, 
 and finally for preponderance in Europe. It was the mo- 
 ment in which the house of Austria elevated itself and 
 became predominant in Europe. It was also the moment 
 in which England, through Henry VIII- , interfered in con- 
 tinental politics, more regularly, permanently and exten- 
 sively than she had ever done before. 
 
 If we follow the course of the sixteenth century in 
 France, w^e shall find it entirely occupied by the great re- 
 ligious wars between Protestants and Catholics ; wars 
 which became the means and the occasion of a new 
 attempt of the great nobles to repossess themselves of the 
 power which they had lost, and to obtain an ascendency 
 over the sovereign. This was the political meaning of 
 the religious wars of France, of the League, of the strug- 
 gle between the houses of Guise and Valois, — a struggle 
 which was put an end to by the accession of Henry IV. 
 
 In Spain, the revolution of the United Provinces broke 
 out about the middle of the reign of Philip II. The inqui- 
 sition on one hand, and civil and religious liberty on the 
 other, made these provinces the theatre of war under the 
 names of the Duke of Alva and the Prince of Orange. 
 Perseverance and prudence secured the triumph of liberty 
 in Holland, but it perished in Spain, where absolute pow- 
 er, ecclesiastical and civil, reigned without control. 
 
 In England, the circumstances to be noted are, the 
 reigns of Mary and Elizabeth ; the struggle of Elizabeth, 
 as head of the Protestant interests, against Philip II. j 
 the accession of James Stuart to the throne of England ; 
 
 24.* 
 
282 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 and the rise of the great dispute between the monarchy 
 and the people. 
 
 About the same time we note the creation of new pow- 
 ers in the north. Sweden w^as raised into existence by 
 Gustavus Vasa, in 1523. Prussia was created by the sec- 
 ularization of the Teutonic order. The northern powers 
 assumed a place in the politics of Europe which they had 
 not occupied before, and the importance of which soon 
 afterwards showed itself in the thirty years' war. 
 
 I now come back to France, to note the reign of Louis 
 XIII. ; the change in the internal administration of this 
 country effected by Cardinal Kichelieu ; the relations of 
 France with Germany, and the support which she afforded 
 to the Protestant party. In Germany, during the latter 
 part of the sixteenth century, there was the war with the 
 Turks; in the beginning of the seventeenth the thirty 
 years' war, the greatest of modern events in eastern Eu- 
 rope ; Gustavus Adolphus, Wallenstein, Tilly, the Duke 
 of Brunswick, the Duke of Weimar, are the greatest 
 names which Germany at this time could boast of. 
 
 At the same period, in France, took place the accession 
 of Louis XIV. and the commencement of the Fronde ; in 
 England broke out the great revolution, or, as it is 
 sometimes improperly called, the grand rebellion, which 
 dethroned Charles I. 
 
 In this survey, I have only glanced at the most promi- 
 nent events of history, events which every body has heard 
 of; you see their number, their variety, their importance. 
 If we seek for events of another kind, events less con- 
 spicuous and less distinguished by great names, we shaU 
 find them not less abundant during this period ; — a period 
 remarkable for the great changes which took place in the 
 political institutions of almost every country ; the period 
 in which pure monarchy prevailed in most of the great 
 states, while in Holland there arose the most powerful 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 283 
 
 republic in Europe ; and in England constitutional mon- 
 archy achieved, or nearly achieved, a final triumph. 
 Then, in the Church, it was during this period that the 
 old monastic orders lost almost all their political power, 
 and were replaced by a new order of a different character, 
 and whose importance, erroneously perhaps, is considered 
 much superior to that of its precursors, — I mean the Je- 
 suits. At the same period the Council of Trent oblite- 
 rated all that remained of the influence of the Councils of 
 Constance and Bale, and secured the definitive ascenden- 
 cy of the court of Rome in ecclesiastical affairs. Leaving 
 the Church, and taking a passing glance at the philosophy 
 of the age, at the unfettered career of the human mind, 
 we observe two men. Bacon and Descartes, the authors 
 of the greatest philosophical revolution which the modern 
 world has undergone, the chiefs of the two schools which 
 contended for supremacj'. It was in this period too that 
 Italian literature shone forth in its fullest splendour, while 
 that of France and England w^as still in its infancy. Last- 
 ly, it w^as in this period that the colonial system of Europe 
 had its origin; that great colonies were founded; and 
 that commercial activity and enterprise were carried to 
 an extent never before known. 
 
 Thus, under whatever point of view we consider this 
 era, we find its political, ecclesiastical, philosophical, and 
 literary events, more numerous, varied, and important, 
 than in any of the preceding ages. The activity of the 
 human mind displayed itself in every way ; in the relations 
 of men with each other — in their relations with the govern- 
 ing powers — in the relations of states, and in the intellect- 
 ual labours of individuals. In short, it was the age of great 
 men and of great things. Yet, among the great events of 
 this period, the religious revolution wdiich now engages 
 our attention was the greatest. It was the leading fact of 
 the period; the fact which gives it its name, and deter- 
 
284? GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 mines its character. Among the many powerful causes 
 which have produced so many powerful effects, the Refor- 
 mation was the most powerful ; it was that to which all 
 the others contributed 5 that which has modified, or been 
 modified, by all the rest. The task which we have now 
 to perform, then, is to review, with precision, this event ; 
 to examine this cause, which, in a period of the greatest 
 causes, produced the greatest efi^ects — this event, which, 
 in this period of great events, prevailed over all the rest. 
 You must, at once, perceive how difficult it is to link 
 together facts so diversified, so immense, and so closely 
 connected, into one great historical unity. It must, how- 
 ever, be done ; when events are once consummated, when 
 they have become matter of history, the most important 
 business is then to be attempted ; that which man most 
 seeks for are general facts — the linking together of causes 
 and effects. This is what I may call the immortal portion 
 of history, which all generations must study, in order to 
 understand the past as well as the present time. This 
 desire after generalization, of obtaining rational results, is 
 the most powerful and noblest of all our intellectual de- 
 sires ; but we must beware of being satisfied with hasty 
 and incomplete generalizations. No pleasure is more se- 
 ducing than that of indulging ourselves in determining on 
 the spot, and at first sight, the general character and per- 
 manent results of an era or an event. The human intel- 
 lect, like the human will, is eager to be in action, impa- 
 tient of obstacles, and desirous of coming to conclusions. 
 It willingly forgets such facts as impede and constrain its 
 operations ; but, while it forgets, it cannot destroy them j 
 they still live to convict it of error at some after period. 
 There is only one way of escaping this danger; it is 
 by a resolute and dogged study of facts, till their mean- 
 ing is exhausted, before attempting to generalize, or 
 coming to conclusions respecting their efi^ects. Facts 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 285 
 
 are, for the intellect, what the rules of morals are for the 
 will. The mind must be thoroughly acquainted with facts, 
 and must know their weight ; and it is only when she has 
 fulfilled this duty — when she has completely traversed, in 
 every direction, the ground of investigation and inquiry — 
 that she is permitted to spread her wings, and take her 
 flight towards that higher region, whence she may survey 
 all things in their general bearings and results. If she 
 endeavour to ascend prematurely, without having first 
 acquired a thorough knowledge of the territory which she 
 desires to contemplate from above, she incurs the most 
 imminent risk of error and downfall. As, in a calculation 
 of figures, an error at the outset leads to others, ad infifi- 
 itum, so, in history, if we do not, in the first instance, take 
 every fact into account — if we allow ourselv es to indulge 
 in a spirit of precipitate generalization — it is impossible to 
 tell how far we may be led astray from the truth. 
 
 In these observations, I am, in some measure, putting 
 you on your guard against myself. In this course I have 
 been able to do little more than make some attempts at 
 generalization, and take some general views of facts which 
 we had not studied closely and together. Being now ar- 
 rived at a period where this task is much more difficult, 
 and the chances of error greater than before, I think it 
 necessary to make you aware of the danger, and warn you 
 against my own speculations. Having done so, I shall 
 now continue them, and treat the Reformation in the same 
 way as I have done other events. I shall endeavour to 
 discover its leading fact, to describe its general character, 
 and to show the part which this great event has performed 
 in the process of European civilization. 
 
 You remember the situation in which we left Europe, 
 at the end of the fifteenth century. We saw, in the course 
 of it, two great attempts at religious revolution or reform ; 
 an attempt at legal reform by the councils, and an attempt 
 
286 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 at revolutionary reform, in Bohemia, by the Hussites ; we 
 saw both these stifled and rendered abortive ', and yet we 
 concluded that the event was one which could not be staved 
 off, but that it must necessarily re-appear in one shape 
 or another; and that what the fifteenth century attempted 
 would be inevitably accomplished by the sixteenth. I 
 shall not enter into any details respecting the relicrious 
 revolution of the sixteenth century, which I consider as 
 being generally known. I shall confine myself solely to 
 the consideration of its general influence on the destinies 
 of mankind. 
 
 In the inquiries which have been made into the causes 
 which produced this great event, the enemies of the Re- 
 formation have imputed it to accidents and mischances, 
 in the course of civilization ; for instance, to the sale of 
 indulgences having been intrusted to the Dominicans, 
 and excited the jealousy of the Augustines. Luther was 
 an Augustine ; and this, therefore, was the moving power 
 which put the Reformation in action. Others have as- 
 cribed it to the ambition of sovereigns — to their rivalry 
 with the ecclesiastical power, andt o the avidity of the lay 
 nobility, who wished to take possession of the property of 
 the Church. In this manner the Reformation has been 
 accounted for, b}^ looking at the evil side of human nature 
 and human affairs; by having recourse to the private in- 
 terests and selfish passions of individuals. 
 
 On the other hand, the friends and partisans of the Re- 
 formation have endeavoured to account for it by the pure 
 desire of effectually reforming the existing abuses of the 
 Church. They have represented it as a redress of reli- 
 gious grievances, as an enterprise conceived and executed 
 with the sole design of re-constituting the Church in 
 its primitive purity. Neither of these explanations appears 
 to me well founded. There is more truth in the latter than 
 in the former ; at least, the cause assigned is greater, and in 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 287 
 
 better proportion to the extent and importance of the event j 
 but, still, I do not consider it as correct. In my opinion, 
 the Reformation neither was an accident, the result of 
 some casual circumstance, or some personal interests, nor 
 arose from unmingled views of religious improvement, 
 the fruit of Utopian humanity and truth. It had a more 
 powerful cause than all these j a general cause, to which 
 all the others were subordinate. It was a vast effort made 
 by the human mind to achieve its freedom j it was a new- 
 born desire which it felt to think and judge, freely and 
 independently, of facts and opinions which, till then, Eu- 
 rope received, or was considered bound to receive, from 
 the hands of authority. It was a great endeavour to 
 emancipate human reason ; and, to call things by their 
 right names, it was an insurrection of the human mind 
 against the absolute power of spiritual order. Such, in 
 my opinion, was the true character and leading principle 
 of the Reformation. 
 
 When we consider the state of the human mind, at this 
 time, on one hand, and the state of the spiritual power of 
 the Church, which had the government of the human mind, 
 on the other, a double fact presents itself to our notice. 
 
 In looking at the human mind, we observe much greater 
 activity, and a much greater desire to develop its powers, 
 than it had ever felt before This new activity was the 
 result of various causes which had been accumulating for 
 ages. For example, there were ages in which heresies 
 sprang up, subsisted for a time, and then gave way to 
 others ; there were other ages in which philosophical 
 opinions ran just the same course as heresies. The 
 labours of the human mind, whether in the sphere of reli- 
 gion or of philosophy, had been accumulating from the 
 eleventh to the sixteenth century ; and the time was now 
 come when they must necessarily have a result. Besides 
 this, the means of instruction created or favoured in the 
 
288 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 bosom of the Church itself, had brought forth fruit. 
 Schools had been instituted ; these schools had produced 
 men of considerable knowledge, and their number had 
 daily increased. These men began to wish to think for 
 themselves, for they felt themselves stronger than they 
 had ever been before. At last came that restoration of 
 the human mind to a pristine youth and vigour, which the 
 revival of the learning and arts of antiquity brought about, 
 the progress and effects of which I have already described. 
 
 These various causes combined gave, at the beginning 
 of the sixteenth century, a new and powerful impulse to 
 the human mind, an imperious desire to go forward. 
 
 The situation of the spiritual power, which then had the 
 government of the human mind, was totally different j it, 
 on the contrary, had fallen into a state of imbecility, and 
 remained stationary. The political influence of the 
 Church and Court of Rome was much diminished. Eu- 
 ropean society had passed from the dominion of Rome 
 to that of temporal governments. Yet in spite of all 
 this, the spiritual power still preserved its pretensions, 
 splendour, and outward importance. The same thing 
 happened to it which has so often happened to long 
 established governments. Most of the complaints made 
 against it were now almost groundless. It is not true, 
 that in the sixteenth century, the Court of Rome was 
 very tyrannical; it is not true, that its abuses were more 
 numerous and crying than they had been at former pe- 
 riods. Never, perhaps, on the contrary, had the govern- 
 ment of the Church been more indulgent, more tolerant, 
 more disposed to let things take their course, provided 
 it was not itself im.plicated, provided that the rights it had 
 hitherto enjoyed were acknowledged even though left 
 unexercised, and that it was assured of its usual existence, 
 and received its usual tributes. It w^ould willingly have 
 left the human mind to itself, if the human mind had been 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 289 
 
 as tolerant towards its oiiences. But it usually happens, 
 that just when governments have begun to lose their 
 influence and power, just when they are comparatively 
 harmless, that they are most exposed to attack ; it is then 
 that, like the sick lion, they may be attacked with impu- 
 nity, though the attempt would have been desperate when 
 they were in the plenitude of their power. 
 
 It is evident, therefore, simply from the consideration 
 of the state of the human mind at this period, and of the 
 power which then governed it, that the Reformation 
 must have been, I repeat it, a sudden effort made by the 
 human mind to achieve its liberty, a great insurrection of 
 human intelligence. This, doubtless, was the leading 
 cause of the Reformation, the cause which soared above 
 all the rest ; a cause superior to every interest either of 
 sovereigns or of nations, superior to the need of reform 
 properly so called, or of the redress of the grievances 
 which were complained of at this period. 
 
 Let us suppose, that after the first years of the Reforma- 
 tion had passed aw^ay, when it had made all its demands, 
 and insisted on all its grievances, — let us suppose, T say, 
 that the spiritual power had conceded every thing, and 
 said, " Well, be it so ; I will make every reform you de- 
 sire ; I will return to a more legal, more truly religious 
 order of affairs. I will suppress arbitrary exactions and 
 tributes ; even in matters of belief I will modify my doc- 
 trines, and return to the primitive standard of Christian 
 faith. But, having thus redressed all your grievances, I 
 must preserve my station, and retain, as formerly, the 
 government of the human mind, with all the powers and 
 all the rights which I have hitherto enjoyed." — Can we 
 believe that the religious revolution would have been satis- 
 fied with these concessions, and would have stopped short 
 in its course 1 I cannot think so ; I firmly believe that it 
 would have continued its career, and that after having 
 
 25 
 
290 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 obtained reform, it would have demanded liberty. The 
 crisis of the sixteenth century was not merely of a reform- 
 ing character ; it was essentially revolutionary. It cannot 
 be deprived of this character, with all the good and evil 
 that belongs to it ; its nature may be traced in its effects. 
 Let us take a glance at the destinies of the Reforma- 
 tion j let us see, more particularly, what it has produced 
 in the different countries in which it developed itself. It 
 can hardly escape observation that it exhibited itself in 
 very different situations, and with very different chances 
 of success ; if then we find that, notwithstanding this di- 
 versity of situations and chances, it has always pursued a 
 certain object, obtained a certain result, and preserved a 
 certain character, it must be evident that this character, 
 which has surmounted all the diversities of situation, all 
 the'^inequalities of chance, must be the fundamental char- 
 acter of the event ; and that this result must be the essen- 
 tial object of its pursuit. 
 
 Well then, wherever the religious revolution of the six- 
 teenth century prevailed, if it did not accomplish a com- 
 plete emancipation of the human mind, it procured it a 
 new and great increase of liberty. It doubtless left the 
 mind subject to all the chances of liberty or thraldom 
 which might arise from political institutions ; but it abol- 
 ished or disarmed the spiritual power, the systematic and 
 formidable government of the mind. This was the result 
 obtained by the Reformation, uotAvithstanding the infinite 
 diversity of circumstances under which it took place. In 
 Germany there was no political liberty ; the Reformation 
 did not introduce it; it rather strengthened than enfeebled 
 the power of princes ; it was rather opposed to the free in- 
 stitutions of the middle ages than favourable to their pro- 
 gress. Still, in spite of this, it excited and maintained in 
 Germany a greater freedom of thought, probably, than in 
 any other country. In Denmark too, a country in which ab- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 291 
 
 solute power predominated in the municipal institutions, as 
 well as the general institutions of the state, thought was 
 emancipated through the influence of the Reformation, and 
 freely exercised on every subject. In Holland, under a 
 republic ; in England, under a constitutional monarchy, 
 and in spite of a religious tyranny which was long very 
 severe, the emancipation of the human mind was accom- 
 plished by the same influence. And lastly, in France, 
 which seemed from its situation the least likely of any to 
 be affected by this religious revolution, even in this coun- 
 try, where it was actually overcome, it became a princi- 
 ple of mental independence, of intellectual freedom. Till 
 the year 1685, that is, till the revocation of the edict of 
 Nantes, the Reformation enjoyed a legal existence in 
 France. During this long space of time, the reformers 
 wrote, disputed, and provoked their adversaries to write 
 and dispute with them. This single fact, this war of 
 tracts and disputations between the old and new opinions, 
 diflfused in France a greater degree of real and active lib- 
 erty than is commonly believed ; a liberty which redound- 
 ed to the advantage of science and morality, to the honour 
 of the French clergy, and to the benefit of the mind in 
 general. Look at the conferences of Bossuet with Claude, 
 and at all the religious controversy of that period, and 
 ask yourselves if Louis XIV. would have permitted a sim- 
 ilar degree of freedom on any other subject. It was be- 
 tween the reformers and the opposite party that the great- 
 est freedom of opinion existed in the seventeenth century. 
 Religious questions were treated in a bolder and freer 
 spirit of speculation than political, even by Fenelon him- 
 self in his Telemachus. This state of things lasted till 
 the revocation of the edict of Nantes. Now, from the 
 year 1685 to the explosion of the human mind in the eigh- 
 teenth century, there was not an interval of forty years; 
 and the influence of the religious revolution in favour of 
 
292 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 intellectual liberty had scarcely ceased when the influ- 
 ence of the revolution in philosophy began to operate. 
 
 You see, then, that wherever the Keformation pene- 
 trated, wherever it acted an important part, whether con- 
 queror or conquered, its general, leading, and constant 
 result was an immense progress in mental activity and 
 freedom ; an immense step towards the emancipation of 
 the human mind. 
 
 Again, not only was this the result of the Reformation, 
 but it was content with this result. Wherever this was 
 obtained, no other was sought for ; so entirely vras it the 
 very foundation of the event, its primitive and fundamental 
 character ! Thus, in Germany, far from demanding politi- 
 cal liberty, the Reformation accepted, I shall not say servi- 
 tude, but the absence of liberty. In England, it consented 
 to the hierarchical constitution of the clergy, and to the 
 existence of a Church, as full of abuses as ever the Romish 
 Church had been, and much more servile. Why did the 
 Reformation, so ardent and rigid in certain respects, ex- 
 hibit, in these instances, so much facility and suppleness 1 
 Because it had obtained the general result to which it 
 tended, the abolition of the spiritual power, and the eman- 
 cipation of the human mind. I repeat it ; wherever the 
 Reformation attained this object, it accommodated itself 
 to every form of government, and to every situation. 
 
 Let us now test this fact by the opposite mode of proof; 
 let us see what happened in those countries into which the 
 Reformation did not penetrate, or in which it was early 
 suppressed. We learn from history that, in those countries, 
 the human mind Avas not emancipated; witness two great 
 countries, Spain and Italy. While, in those parts of Eu- 
 rope into which the Reformation very largely entered, the 
 human mind, during the last three centuries, has acquired 
 an activity and freedom previously unknown ; — in those 
 other parts, into which it was never allowed to make its 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 293 
 
 way, the mind, during the same period, has become lan- 
 guid and inert : so that opposite sets of facts, which hap- 
 pened at the same time, concur in establishing the same 
 result. 
 
 The impulse which was given to human thought, and the 
 abolition of absolute power in the spiritual order, consti- 
 tuted, then, the essential character of the Keformation, 
 the most general result of its influence, the ruling fact in 
 its destiny. 
 
 I use the word fact^ and I do so on purpose. The eman- 
 cipation of the human mind, in the course of the Kefor- 
 mation, was a fact, rather than a principle, a result rather 
 than an intention. The Reformation, I believe, has in this 
 respect, performed more than it undertook, — more, proba- 
 bly, than it desired. Contrary to what has happened in 
 many other revolutions, the effects of which have not 
 come up to their design, the consequences of the Reforma- 
 tion have gone beyond the object it had in viewj it is 
 greater, considered as an event, than as a system; it has 
 never completely known all that it has done, nor, if it had, 
 would it have completely avowed it. 
 
 What are the reproaches constantly applied to the Re- 
 formation by its enemies 1 which of its results are thro^vn 
 in its face, as it were, as unanswerable % 
 
 The two principal reproaches are, first, the multiplicity 
 of sects, the excessive license of thought, the destruction 
 of all spiritual authority, and the entire dissolution of reli- 
 gious society : secondly, tyranny and persecution. " You 
 provoke licentiousness, "^ it has been said to the Reform- 
 ers, — " you produced it ; and, after having been the cause 
 of it, you wish to restrain and repress it. And how do 
 you repress it % By the most harsh and violent means. 
 You take upon yourselves, too, to punish heresy, and that 
 by virtue of an illegitimate authority." 
 
 If we take a review of all the prmeipal charges which 
 25* 
 
^94> ' GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 have been made against the Reformation, we shall find, if 
 we set aside all questions purely doctrinal, that the above 
 are the two fundamental reproaches to which they may all 
 be reduced. 
 
 These charges gave great embarrassment to the reform 
 party. When they were taxed with the multiplicity of 
 their sects, instead of advocating the freedom of religious 
 opinion, and maintaining the right of every sect to entire 
 toleration, they denounced sectarianism, lamented it, and 
 endeavoured to find excuses for its existence. Were 
 they accused of persecution 1 They were troubled to 
 defend themselves ; they used the plea of necessity ; they 
 had, they said, the right to repress and punish error, be- 
 cause they were in possession of the truth. Their arti- 
 cles of belief, they contended, and their institutions, were 
 the only legitimate ones; and if the Church of Rome had 
 not the right to punish the reformed party, it was because 
 she was in the wrong and they in the right. 
 
 And when the charge of persecution was applied to the 
 ruling party in the Reformation, not by its enemies, but 
 by its own offspring ; when the sects denounced by that 
 party said, "We are doing just what you did ; we sepa- 
 rate ourselves from you, just as you separated yourselves 
 from the Church of Rome," this ruling party were still 
 mor€ at a loss to find an answer, and frequently the only 
 answer they had to give was an increase of severity. 
 
 The truth is, that while labouring for the destruction of 
 absolute power in the spiritual order, the religious revolu- 
 tion of the sixteenth century was not aware of the true 
 principles of intellectual liberty. It emancipated the hu- 
 man mind, and yet pretended still to govern it by laws. 
 In point of fact it produced the prevalence of free inq^uiry '^ 
 in point of principle it believed that it w^as substituting a 
 legitimate for an illegitimate power. It had not looked up 
 to the primary motive, nor down to the ultimate consequent 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 295 
 
 ces of its own work. It thus fell into a double error. On the 
 one side it did not know or respect all the rights of human 
 thought; at the very moment that it ^vas demanding 
 these rights for itself, it was violating them towards 
 others. On the other side, it was unable to estimate the 
 rights of authority in matters of reason. I do not speak 
 of that coercive authority which ought to have no rights 
 at all in such matters, but of that kind of authority v^'hich 
 is purely moral, and acts solely by its influence upon the 
 mind. In most reformed countries, something is wanting 
 to complete the proper organization of intellectual society, 
 and to the regular action of old and general opinions. 
 What is due to and required by traditional belief, has not 
 been reconciled with what is due to and required bj^ free- 
 dom of thinking; and the cause of this undoubtedly is, 
 that the Reformation did not fully comprehend and accept 
 its own principles and effects. 
 
 Hence, too, the Eeformation acquired an appearance of 
 inconsistency and narrowness of mind, which has often 
 given an advantage to its enemies. They knew very well 
 what they w^ere about, and what they ^vanted ; they cited 
 the principles af their conduct w'ithout scruple, and avow- 
 ed all its consequences. There never was a government 
 more consistent and systematic than that of the Church 
 of Eome. In point of fact\ the Court of Rome made more 
 compromises and concessions than the Reformation ; in 
 ^omt oi principle^ \i adhered much more closelj'- to its 
 system, and maintained a more consistent line of conduct. 
 Great strength is gained by a thorough knowledge of the 
 nature of one^s own views and actions, by a complete 
 and rational adoption of a certain principle and design ; 
 and a striking example of this is to. be found in the course 
 of the religious revolution of the sixteenth century. Every 
 body knows that the principalpower instituted to contend 
 against the Reformation was the order of the Jesuits. 
 
296 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Look for a moment at their history j they failed every- 
 where ; wherever they interfered, to any extent, they 
 brought misfortune upon the cause in which they med- 
 dled. In England, they ruined kings ; in Spain, whole 
 masses of the people. The general course of events, the 
 development of modern civilization, the freedom of the 
 human mind, all these forces with which the Jesuits were 
 called upon to contend, rose up against them and over- 
 came them. And not only did they fail, but you must 
 remember what sort of means they were constrained to 
 employ. There was nothing great or splendid in what 
 they did; they produced no striking events, they did not 
 put in motion powerful masses of men. They proceeded 
 by dark and hidden courses ; courses by no means calcu- 
 lated to strike the imagination, or to conciliate that public 
 interest which always attaches itself to great things, what- 
 ever may be their principle and object. The party oppo- 
 sed to them, on the contrary, not only overcame, but over- 
 came sifjnally ; did great things and by great means ; over- 
 spread Europe with great men ; changed, in open day, the 
 condition and form of States. Every thing, in short, was 
 ao-ainst the Jesuits, both fortune and appearances ; reason, 
 which desires success,— and imagination, which requires 
 eclat, — were alike disappointed by their fate. Still, how- 
 ever, they were undoubtedly possessed of grandeur ; 
 great ideas are attached to their name, their influence, 
 and their history. The reason is, that they knew what 
 they did, and what they wished to accomplish ; that they 
 were fully and clearly aware of the principles upon which 
 they acted, and of the object which they had in view. 
 They possessed grandeur of thought and of will ; and 
 it was this that saved them from the ridicule which 
 attends constant reverses, and the use of paltry means. 
 Wherever, on the contrary, the event has been greater 
 than the design, wherever there is an appearance of igno- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 297 
 
 ranee of the first principles and ultimate results of an 
 action, there has always remained a degree of incomplete- 
 ness, inconsistency, and narrowness of view, which has 
 placed the very victors in a state of rational or philosophi- 
 cal inferiority, the influence of which has sometimes been 
 apparent in the course of events. This, I think, in the 
 struggle between the old and the new order of things, in 
 matters of religion, was the weak side of the Reformation, 
 which often embarrassed its situation, and prevented it 
 from defending itself so well as it had a right to do. 
 
 I might consider the religious revolution of the sixteenth 
 century under many other aspects. I have said nothing, 
 and have nothing to say, respecting it as a matter of 
 doctrine — respecting its effects on religion, properly so 
 called, or respecting the relations of the human soul with 
 God and an eternal futurity ; but I might exhibit it in its 
 various relations with social order, everywhere producing 
 results of immense importance. For example, it intro- 
 duced religion into the midst of the laity, into the world, 
 so to speak, of believers. Till then, religion had been the 
 exclusive domain of the ecclesiastical order. The clergy 
 distributed the proceeds, but reserved to themselves the 
 disposal of the capital, and almost the exclusive right 
 even to speak of it. The Reformation again threw mat- 
 ters of religious belief into general circulation, and again 
 opened to believers the field of faith, into which they had 
 not been permitted to enter. It had, at the same time, a 
 further result ; it banished, or nearly so, religion from pol- 
 itics, and restored the independence of the temporal power. 
 At the same moment that religion returned into the pos- 
 session of believers, it quitted the government of society. 
 In the reformed countries, in spite of the diversities of ec- 
 clesiastical constitutions, even in Eng-land, whose consti- 
 tution is most nearly akin to the old order of things, the 
 spiritual power has no longer any serious pretensions to 
 the government of the temporal power* 
 
298 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 I might enumerate many other consequences of the 
 Reformation, but I must limit myself to the above general 
 views : and I am satisfied with having placed before you 
 its principal feature — the emancipation of the human 
 mind, and the abolition of absolute power in the spiritual 
 order ; an abolition which, though, undoubtedly, not com- 
 plete, is yet the greatest step which, down to our own 
 times, has ever been made towards the attainment of that 
 object. 
 
 Before concluding, I pray you to remark, what a striking 
 resemblance of destiny there is to be found, in the history 
 of modern Europe, between civil and religious society, in 
 the revolutions they have had to undergo. 
 
 Christian society, as we have seen when I spoke of the 
 Church, was, at first, a state of society perfectly free, 
 formed entirely in the name of a common belief, without 
 institutions or government, properly so called ; regulated, 
 solely, by moral and variable powers, according to the ex- 
 igencies of the moment. Civil society began, in like man- 
 ner, in Europe, partly, at least, by bands of barbarians ; it 
 was a state of society perfectly free, in which every one 
 remained, because he wished to do so, without laws or 
 powers created by institutions. In emerging from that 
 state which was inconsistent with any great social devel- 
 opment, religious society placed itself under a government 
 essentially aristocratic ; its governors were the clergy, 
 the bishops, the councils, the ecclesiastical aristocracy. 
 A fact of the same kind took place in civil society when 
 it emerged from barbarism ; it was, in like manner, the 
 aristocracy, the feudalism of the laity, which laid hold of 
 the power of government. Religious society quitted the 
 aristocratic form of government to assume that of pure 
 monarchy ; this was the rationale of the triumph of the 
 Court of Rome over the councils and the ecclesiastical 
 aristocracy of Europe. The same revolution was accom- 
 plished in civil society j it was, in like manner, by the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 299 
 
 destruction of the aristocratic power, that monarchy pre- 
 vailed, and took possession of the European world. In 
 the sixteenth century, in the heart of religious society, 
 an insurrection broke out against the system of pure 
 ecclesiastical monarchy, against absolute power in the 
 spiritual order. This revolution produced, sanctioned, 
 and established freedom of inquiry in Europe. In our 
 own time we have witnessed a similar event in civil socie- 
 ty. Absolute temporal power, in like manner, was attack- 
 ed and overcome. You see, then, that the two orders of 
 society have undergone the same vicissitudes and revolu- 
 tions ; only religious society has always been the fore- 
 most in this career. 
 
 We are now in possession of one of the great fjicts in 
 the history of modern society — freedom of inquiry, the 
 liberty of the human mind. We see, at the same time, 
 the almost universal prevalence of political centralization. 
 In my next lecture I shall consider the revolution in Eng- 
 land ; the event in which freedom of inquiry and a pure 
 monarchy, both results of the progress of civilization, 
 came, for the first time, into collision. 
 
300 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION. 
 
 We have seen, that during the course of the sixteenth 
 century, all the elements, all the facts, of ancient Euro- 
 pean society had merged in two essential facts, the right 
 of free examination, and centralization of power 5 one 
 prevailing in religious society, the other in civil societj'. 
 The emancipation of the human mind and absolute mon- 
 archy triumphed at the same moment over Europe in 
 general. 
 
 It could hardly be conceived that a struggle between 
 these two facts — the characters of which appear so con- 
 tradictory — would not, at some time, break out ; for while 
 one was the defeat of absolute power in the spiritual 
 order, the other was the triumph of absolute power in the 
 temporal order; one forced on the decline of the ancient 
 ecclesiastical monarchy, the other was the consummation 
 of the ruin of the ancient feudal and municipal liberty. 
 Their simultaneous appearance was owing, as I have 
 already observed, to the circumstance that the revolutions 
 of the religious society followed more rapidly than those 
 of the civil ; one had arrived at the point in which the 
 freedom of individual thought was secured, while the 
 other still lingered on the spot where the concentration of 
 all the powers in one general power took place. The co- 
 incidence of these two facts, so far from being the con- 
 sequence of their similitude, did not even prevent their 
 contradiction. They were both advances in the march of 
 civilization, but they were advances connected with dif- 
 ferent situations; advances of a different moral date, if 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 301 
 
 I may be allowed the expression, although coincident in 
 time. From their position it seemed inevitable that they 
 must clash and combat before a reconciliation could be 
 effected between them. 
 
 The first shock between them took place in England. 
 The struggle of the right of free inquiry, the fruit of the 
 Reformation, against the entire suppression of political 
 liberty, the object aimed at by pure monarchy — the at- 
 tempt to abolish absolute power in the temporal order, as 
 had already been done in the spiritual order — this is the 
 true sense of the English revolution j this is the part it 
 took in the work of civilization. 
 
 But how, it may be asked, came it to pass, that this 
 struggle took place in England sooner than anywhere else 1 
 How happened it that the revolutions of a political char- 
 acter coincided here with those of a moral character 
 sooner than they did on the Continent 1 
 
 In England, the royal power had undergone the same 
 vicissitudes as it had on the Continent. Under the Tudors 
 it had reached a degree of concentration and vigour which 
 it had never attained to before. I do not mean to say that 
 the practical despotism of the Tudors was more violent 
 and vexatious than that of their predecessors ; there were 
 quite as manj', perhaps more, tyrannical proceedings, vex- 
 ations, and acts of injustice, under the Plantagenets, as 
 under the Tudors. Perhaps, too, at this very period the 
 government of pure monarchy was more severe and arbi- 
 trary on the Continent than in England. The new fact 
 under the Tudors was, that absolute power became sys- 
 tematic ; royalty laid claim to a primitive, independent 
 sovereignty ; it held a language which it had never held 
 before. The theoretic claims of Henry YIIL, Elizabeth, 
 James I., and Charles I., are very different from those of 
 Edward L, and III., although in point offact, the power 
 of the two latter monarchs was nowise less arbitrary or 
 
 26 
 
304 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 extensive. I repeat, then, it was the principle, the rational 
 system of monarchy, which changed in England, in the 
 sixteenth century, rather than its practical power ; roy- 
 alty now declared itself absolute and superior to all laws, 
 even to those which it declared itself willing to respect. 
 
 There is another point to be considered ; the religious 
 revolution had not been accomplished in England in the 
 same way as on the Continent j it was here the work of 
 the monarchs themselves. It must not be supposed that 
 the seeds had not been sown, or that even attempts had 
 not been made at a popular reform, or that one would not 
 probably have soon broken out. But Henry VIII. took 
 the lead ; power became revolutionary ; and hence it hap- 
 pened, at least in its origin, that, as a redress of ecclesias- 
 tical abuses, as an emancipation of the human mind, the 
 reform in England was much less complete than upon the 
 Continent. It was made, as might naturally be expected, 
 in accordance with the interests of its authors. The king 
 and the episcopacy, which was here continued, divided be- 
 tween themselves the riches and the power, of which they 
 despoiled their predecessors, the popes. The effect of 
 this was soon felt. The Reformation, people cried out, 
 had been closed, while the greater part of the abuses 
 which had induced them to desire it, were still continued. 
 
 The Reformation re-appeared under a more popular 
 form ; it made the same demands of the bishops that had 
 already been made of the Holy See ; it accused them of 
 being so many popes. As often as the general fate of the 
 religious revolution was compromised ; whenever a strug- 
 gle against the ancient Church took place, the various 
 portions of the Reformation partly rallied together, and 
 made common cause against the common enemy : but this 
 danger over, the struggle again broke out among them- 
 selves ; the poptflar form again attacked the aristocratic 
 and royal reform, denounced its abuses, complained of its 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 303 
 
 tyranny, called upon it to make good its promises, and 
 not to usurp itself the power which it had just dethroned. 
 
 Much about the same time a movement for liberty took 
 place in civil society ; a desire before unknown, or at least 
 but weakly expressed, was now felt for political freedom. 
 In the course of the sixteenth century, the commercial 
 prosperity of England had increased with amazing rapid- 
 ity, while during the same time, much territorial w^ealth, 
 much baronial property had changed hands. The nume- 
 rous divisions of landed property, which took place during 
 the sixteenth century, in consequence of the ruin of the 
 feudal nobility, and from various other causes which I can- 
 not now stop to enumerate, form a fact w^hich has not 
 been sufficiently noticed. A variety of documents prove 
 how greatly the number of landed properties increased j 
 the estates going generally into the hands of the gentry, 
 composed of the lesser nobility, and persons who had 
 acquired property by trade. The high nobility, the House 
 of Lords, did not, at the beginning of the seventeenth 
 century, nearly equal, in riches, the House of Commons. 
 There had taken place, then, at the same time in England, 
 a great increase in wealth among the industrious classes, 
 and a great change in landed property. While these two 
 facts were being accomplished, there happened a third: 
 a new march of mind. 
 
 The reign of Queen Elizabeth must be regarded as a 
 period of great literary and philosophical activity in Eng- 
 land, a period remarkable for bold and pregnant thought ; 
 the Puritans followed, without hesitation, all the conse- 
 quences of a narrow, but powerful creed ; other intellects, 
 with less morality, but more freedom and boldness, alike 
 regardless of principle or system, seized with avidity 
 upon every idea, which seemed to promise some gratifi- 
 cation to their curiosity, some food for their mental 
 ardour. And it may be regarded as a maxim, that wher- 
 
304 GENERAL HISTORlf 0? 
 
 ever the progress of intelligence is a true pleasure, a de- 
 sire for liberty is soon felt, nor is it long in passing from 
 the public mind to the state. 
 
 A feeling of the same kind, a sort of creeping desire 
 for political liberty, almost manifested itself in some of 
 the countries on the continent in which the reformation 
 had made some way ; but these countries, being without 
 the means of success, made no progress ; they knew not 
 how to make their desire felt ; they could find no support 
 for it either in institutions, or in the habits and usages of 
 the people ; hence this desire remained vague, uncertain, 
 and sought in vain for the means of satisfying its cravings. 
 In England the case w^as av idely different : the spirit of 
 political liberty which showed itself here in the sixteenth 
 century, as a sort of appendix to the reformation, found 
 both a firm support and the means of speaking and acting 
 
 in the ancient institutions of the country, and indeed the 
 
 .-..._. , . .-.-,, .... ,,1 - - 
 
 whole frame-work of English society. 
 
 There is hardly any one w^ho does not know^ the origin 
 of the free institutions of England. How, in 1215, a coa- 
 lition of the great barons wTested Magna Charta from 
 John ; but it is not quite so generally known, that this 
 charter was renew^ed and confirmed, from time to time, by 
 almost every king. It was confirmed upwards of thirty 
 times between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, be- 
 sides which new statutes w^ere passed to confirm and ex- 
 tend its enactments. Thus it lived, as it were, without gap 
 or interval. In the mean time the House of Commons had 
 been formed, and taken its place among the sovereign insti- 
 tutions of the country. Under the Plantagenets it had 
 taken deep root and became firmly established ; not that 
 at this time it played any great part, or had even much 
 influence in the government ; it scarcely indeed interfered 
 in this except when called upon to do so by the king, and 
 then only with hesitation and regret j afraid rather of bring- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 305 
 
 ing itself into trouble and danger, than jealous of augment- 
 ing its power and authority. But the case was different 
 when it was called upon to defend private rights, the house 
 or property of the citizens, or in short the rights and privile- 
 ges of individuals ; this duty the House of Commons per- 
 formed with wonderful energy and perseverance, putting 
 forward and establishing all those principles \vhich have be- 
 come the basis of the English constitution. Under the 
 Tudors the House of Commons, or rather the Parliament 
 altogether, put on a new character. It no longer defend- 
 ed individual liberty so well as under the Plantagenets, 
 Arbitrary detentions, and violations of private rights, 
 which became much more frequent, were often passed in 
 silence. But, as a counterbalance for this, the Parliament 
 interfered to a much greater extent than formerly in the 
 general affairs of government. Henry VIII., in order to 
 change the religion of the country, and to regulate the 
 succession, required some public support, some pub- 
 lic instrument, and he had recourse to Parliament, and 
 especially to the House of Commons, for this purpose. 
 This, which under the Plantagenets had only been a means 
 of resistance, a guarantee of private rights, became now, 
 under the Tudors, an instrument of government, of gene- 
 ral policy; so that at the end of the sixteenth century, 
 notwithstanding it had been the tool, and submitted to the 
 will of nearly all sorts of tyrannies, its importance had 
 greatly increased ; the foundation of its power was laid, 
 the foundation of that powder upon which truly rests repre- 
 sentative government. 
 
 In taking a view, then, of the free institutions of Eng- 
 land at the end of the sixteenth century, we find them to 
 consist : first^ of maxims — of principles of liberty, which 
 had been constantly acknowledged in written documents, 
 and of which the legislation and country had never lost 
 sight ; secondly, of precedents, of exam-ples of liberty ; 
 26* 
 
306 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 these, it is true, were mixed with a great number of pre- 
 cedents and examples of an opposite nature ; still they 
 were quite sufficient to maintain, to give a legal character 
 to the claims of the friends of liberty, and to support them 
 in their struggle against arbitrary and tyrannical govern- 
 ment j thirdly, particular, and local institutions, pregnant 
 with the seeds of liberty, the jury, the right of holding 
 public meetings, of bearing arms, to which must be added 
 the independence of municipal administration and juris- 
 diction : fourthly and filially, the parliament and its au- 
 thority, become more necessary now than ever to the 
 monarchs, as these, having dilapidated the greater part of 
 their independent revenues, crown domains, feudal rights, 
 &c., could not support even the expenses of their house- 
 holds, without having recourse to a vote of parliament. 
 
 The political state of England then was very different to 
 that of the continent ; notwithstanding the tyranny of the 
 Tudors, notwithstanding the systematic triumph of abso- 
 lute monarchy, there still remained here a firm support for 
 the new spirit of liberty, a sure means by which it could 
 act. 
 
 At this epoch, two national wants were felt in England : 
 on one hand, a want of religious liberty and of a continua- 
 tion of the reformation already begun j on the other, a 
 want of political liberty, which seemed arrested by the 
 absolute monarchy now establishing its power. These 
 two parties formed an alliance : the party which wished 
 to carry forward religious reform, invoked political liberty 
 to the aid of its faith and conscience against the bishops 
 and the crown. The friends of political liberty, m like 
 manner, sought the aid of the friends of popular religious 
 reform. The two parties joined their forces to struggle 
 against absolute power, both spiritual and political, now 
 concentrated in the hands of the king. Such is the origin 
 and signification of the English revolution. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 307 
 
 It appears, then, to have been essentially devoted to the 
 defence or conquest of liberty. For the religious party it 
 was a means, for the political party it was an end ; but the 
 object of both was still liberty, and they were determined 
 to pursue it in common. Properly speaking, there had been 
 no true quarrel between the episcopal and puritan party ; 
 the struggle was not about doctrines, about matters of 
 faith, properly so called. I do not mean that these were 
 not very positive, very important, and differences of great- 
 consequence between them; but this was not the main 
 affair. What the puritan party wished to obtain from the 
 episcopal was practical liberty ; this was the object for 
 which it struggled. It must however be admitted that 
 there did exist, at the same time, a religious party which 
 had a system to found ; a set of doctrines, a form of dis- 
 cipline, an ecclesiastic constitution, which it wished to 
 establish — I mean the presbyterians ; but though it did its 
 best, it had not the power to obtain its object. Acting 
 upon the defensive, oppressed by the bishops, unable to 
 take a step without the sanction of the political reformers, 
 its necessary allies and chieftains, liberty naturally became 
 its predominant interest ; this was the general interest, 
 the common desire of all the parties which concurred in 
 the movement, however different in other respects might 
 be their views. Taking these matters then altogether, 
 we must come to the conclusion, that the English revolu- 
 tion was essentially political ; it was accomplished in the 
 midst of a religious people and a religious age; religious 
 ideas and passions often became its instruments ; but its 
 primary intention and its definite object were decidedly 
 political, a tendency to liberty, the destruction of all ab- 
 solute power. 
 
 I shall now briefly run over the various phases of this 
 revolution, and analyze it into the great parties that suc- 
 ceeded one another in its course. I shall afterwards con- 
 
308 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 nect it with the general career of European civilization; 
 I shall show its place and influence therein ; and you will 
 be satisfied, from the detail of facts as well as from its 
 first aspect, that it was truly the first collision of free in- 
 quiry and pure monarchy, the first onset that took place 
 in the struggle between these two great and opposite 
 powers. 
 
 Three principal parties appeared upon the stage at this 
 important crisis ; three revolutions seem to have been 
 contained within it, and to have successively appeared 
 upon the scene. In each party, in each revolution, tw^o 
 parties moved together in alliance, a political party and a 
 religious party ; the former took the lead, the second fol- 
 lowed, but one could not go without the other, so that a 
 double character seems to be imprinted upon it in all its 
 changes. 
 
 The first party which appeared in the field, and under 
 whose banners ae the beginning marched all the others, 
 was the high, pure-monarchy party, advocating legal re- 
 form. When the revolution began, when the long parlia- 
 ment assembled in 1640, it was generally said, and sin- 
 cerely believed by many, that a legal, a constitutional 
 reform would suffice ; that the ancient laws and practices 
 of the countrjr w^ere sufficient to correct every abuse, to 
 establish a system of government which would fully meet 
 the wishes of the public. 
 
 This party highly blamed and earnestly desired to put a 
 stop to illegal imposts, to arbitrary imprisonments — to all 
 acts, indeed, contrary to the known law and usages of the 
 country. But under these ideas, there lay hid, as it were, 
 a belief in the divine right of the king^and in his absolute 
 power. A secret instinct seemed to warn it that there 
 was something false and dangerous in this notion ; and on 
 this account it appeared always desirous to avoid the sub- 
 ject. Forced, however, at last to speak out, it acknow- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 309 
 
 ledged the divine right of kings, and admitted that they 
 possessed a power superior to all hun)an origin, to all hu- 
 man control ; and as such they defended it in time of 
 need. Still, however, they believed that this sovereignty, 
 though absolute in principle, was bound to exercise its 
 authority according to certain rules and forms ; that it 
 could not go beyond certain limits ; and that these rules, 
 these forms, and these limits were sufficiently established 
 and guaranteed in Magna Charta, in the confirmative 
 statutes, in the ancient laws and usages of the country. 
 Such was the political creed of this party. In religious 
 matters, it believed that the Episcopacy had greatly en- 
 croached ; that the bishops possessed far too much politi- 
 cal power 5 that their jurisdiction was far too extensive, 
 that it required to be restrained, and its proceedings 
 jealously watched. Still it held firmly to Episcopacy, not 
 merely as an ecclesiastical institution, not merely as a 
 form of church government, but as a necessary support 
 of the royal prerogative, and as a means of defending and 
 maintaining the supremacy of the king in matters of reli- 
 gion. The absolute power of the king over the body 
 politic, exercised according to the forms and within the 
 limits legally acknowledged ; the supremacy of the king 
 as head of the Church, applied and sustained by the Epis- 
 copacy, was the twofold system of the legal reform party. 
 We may enumerate as it,s chiefs, Lord Clarendon, Cole- 
 pepper, Capel, and, though a more ardent friend of public 
 liberty, Lord Falkland ; and into their ranks were enlisted 
 nearly all the nobility and gentry not servilely devoted to 
 the court. 
 
 Behind this party advanced a second, which I shall call 
 the political-revolutionary party : it differed from the 
 foregoing, inasmuch as it did not believe the ancient guar- 
 antees, the ancient legal barriers sufficient to secure the 
 rights and liberties of the people. It saw that a great 
 
310 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 change, a genuine revolution was wanting not only in the 
 forms but in the spirit and essence of the government ; 
 that it was necessary to deprive the king and his council 
 of the unlimited power which they possessed, and to place 
 the preponderance in the House of Commons 5 so that 
 the government should, in fact, be in the hands of this 
 assembly and its leaders. This party made no such open 
 and systematic profession of its principles, and intentions, 
 as I have done ; but this was the real character of its 
 opinions, and of its political tendencies. Instead of ac- 
 knowledging the absolute sovereignty of the king, it con- 
 tended for the sovereignty of the House of Commons as 
 the representatives of the people. Under this principle 
 was hid that of the sovereignty of the people ; a notion 
 which the party was as far from considering in its full ex- 
 tent, as it was from desiring the consequences to which 
 it might ultimately lead, but which they nevertheless ad- 
 mitted when it presented itself to them in the form of the 
 sovereignty of the House of Commons. 
 
 The religious party most closely allied to this political- 
 revolutionary one was that of the presbyterians. This 
 Beet wished to operate much the same revolution in the 
 Church as their allies were endeavouring to effect in the 
 state. They desired to erect a system of church govern- 
 ment emanating from the people, and composed of a 
 series of assemblies dove-tailed, as it were, into each 
 other ; and thus to give to their national assembly the 
 same authority in ecclesiastical matters that their allies 
 wished to give in political to the House of Commons : 
 only that the revolution contemplated by the presbyteri- 
 ans was more complete and daring than the other, foras- 
 much as it aimed at changing the form as well as the 
 principles of the government of the Church ; while the 
 views of the political party went no further than to place 
 the influence, the preponderance, in the body of the peo- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 311 
 
 pie, without meditating any great alteration in the form of 
 their institutions. 
 
 Hence the leaders of this political party were not all 
 favourable to the presbyterian organization of the Church. 
 Hampden and Hollis, as well as some others, it appears, 
 would have given the preference to a moderate episcopa- 
 cy, confined strictly to ecclesiastical functions, with a 
 greater extent of liberty of conscience. They were 
 obliged, however, to give way, as they could do nothing 
 without the assistance of their fanatical allies. 
 
 The third party, going much beyond these two, declared 
 that a change was required not only in the form, but also 
 in the foundation of the government ; that its constitution 
 was radically vicious and bad. This party paid no re- 
 spect to the past life of England ; it renounced her insti- 
 tutions, it swept away all national remembrances, it threw 
 down the whole fabric of English government, that it 
 might build up another founded on pure theory, or at least 
 one that existed only in its own fancy. It aimed not 
 merely at a revolution in the government, but at a com- 
 plete revolution of the whole social system. The party 
 of which I have just spoken, the political-revolutionary 
 party, proposed to make a great change in the relations 
 in which the parliament stood with the crown ; it wished 
 to extend the power of the two houses, particularly of the 
 commons, by giving to it the nomination of the great of- 
 ficers of state, and the supreme direction of affairs in gen- 
 eral ; but its notions of reform scarcely went beyond this. 
 It had no idea, for example, of changing the electoral sys- 
 tem, the judicial system, the administrative and municipal 
 systems of the country. The republican party contem- 
 plated all these changes, dwelt upon their necessity, 
 wished, in a word, to reform not only the public adminis- 
 tration, but the relations of society, and the distribution 
 of private rights. 
 
312 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Like the two preceding, this party was composed of a 
 religious sect, and a political sect. Its political portion 
 were the genuine republicans, the theorists, Ludlow, Har- 
 rington, Milton, &c. To these may be added the repub- 
 licans of circumstance, of interest, such as the principal 
 officers of the army, Ireton, Cromwell, Lambert, &c., who 
 were more or less sincere at the beginning of their career, 
 but weve soon controlled and guided by personal motives 
 and the force of circumstances. Under the banners of 
 this party marched the religious republicans, all those 
 religious sects which would acknowledge no power as 
 legitimate but that of Jesus Christ, and who, awaiting his 
 second coming, desired only the government of his elect. 
 Finally, in the train of this party followed a mixed assem- 
 blage of subordinate free-thinkers, fanatics, and levellers, 
 some hoping for license, some for an equal distribution of 
 property, and others for universal suffrage. 
 
 In 1653, after twelve years of struggle, all these parties 
 had successively appeared and failed ; they appear at 
 least to have thought so, and the public was sure of it. 
 The legal reform party quickly disappeared ; it saw the 
 old constitution and laws insulted, trampled under foot, 
 and innovations forcing their way on every side. The 
 political-revolutionary party saw the destruction of par- 
 liamentary forms in the new use which it was proposed to 
 make of them — it had seen the house of commons reduced, 
 by the successive expulsions of royalists and presby- 
 terians, to a few members, despised, detested by the 
 public, and incapable of governing. The republican party 
 appeared to have succeeded better ; it seemed to be left 
 master of the field and of power : the house of commons con- 
 sisted of but fifty or sixty members, all republicans. They 
 might fancy themselves, and call themselves, the rulers 
 of the country , but the country rejected their govern- 
 ment ; they were nowhere obeyed; they had no power 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EtJROrE. 313 
 
 either over the army or the nation. No social bond, no 
 Bocial security was now left ; justice was no longer ad- 
 ministered, or if it was, it was controlled by passion, 
 chance, or party. Not only was there no security in the 
 relations of private life, but the highways were covered 
 with robbers and companies of brigands. Anarchy in 
 every part of the civil, as well as of the moral world, 
 prevailed ; and neither the House of Commons, nor the 
 republican Council of State, had the power to restrain it. 
 Thus, the three great parties which had brought about 
 the revolution, and which in their turn had been called upon 
 to conduct it ; — had been called upon to govern the coun- 
 try according to their principles and their will — had all 
 signally failed. They could do nothing — they could set- 
 tle nothing. " Now it was," says Bossuet, "that a man 
 was found who left nothing to fortune, which he could gain 
 by counsel and foresight ;" a remark which has no foun- 
 dation whatever in truth, and which every part of history 
 contradicts. No man ever left more to fortune than Crom- 
 well. No one ever risked more — no one ever pushed for- 
 ward more rashly, without design, without an aim, yet 
 determined to go as far as fate Avould carry him. Un- 
 bounded ambition, and admirable tact for drawing from 
 every day, from every circumstance, some new progress 
 — the art of profiting by fortune without seeming ever to 
 possess the desire to constrain it, formed the character 
 of Cromwell. In one particular his career was singular, 
 and differs from that of every individual with whom we 
 are apt to compare him: he adapted himself to all the 
 \'arious changes, numerous as they were, as well as to the 
 state of things they led to of the revolution. He appears 
 a prominent character in every scene, from the rise of the 
 curtain to the close of the piece. He was now the insti- 
 gator of the insurrection— now the abettor of anarchy — 
 now the most fiery of the revolutionists — now the restorer 
 of order and social re-organization j thus playing himself 
 27 
 
314 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 all the principal parts which, in the common run of revo- 
 lutions, are usually distributed among the greatest actors. 
 He was not a Mirabeau, for he failed in eloquence, and, 
 though very active, he made no great figure in the first 
 years of the long parliament. But he was successively 
 Danton and Buonaparte. Cromwell did more than any 
 one to overthrow authority ; he raised it up again, be- 
 cause there was no other than he that could take it and 
 manage it. The country required a ruler j all others 
 failed, and he succeeded. This was his title. Once mas- 
 ter of the government, Cromwell, whose boundless ambi- 
 tion had exerted itself so vigorously, who had so con- 
 stantly pushed fortune before him, and seemed deter- 
 mined never to stop in his career, displayed a good sense, 
 a prudence, a knowledge of how much was possible, 
 which overruled his most violent passions. There can 
 be no doubt of his extreme fondness for absolute power, 
 nor of his desire to place the crown upon his own head 
 and keep it in his family. He saw the peril of this latter 
 design and renounced it ; and though, in fact, he did ex- 
 ercise absolute authority, he saw very well that the spirit 
 of the times would not bear it ; that the revolution which 
 he had helped to bring about, which he had followed 
 through all its phases, had been directed against despot- 
 ism, and that the uncontrollable will of England was to 
 be governed by a parliament and parliamentary forms. 
 He endeavoured, therefore, despot as he was, by taste 
 and by deeds, to govern by a parliament. For this pur- 
 pose he had recourse to all the various parties j he tried 
 to form a parliament from the religious enthusiasts, from 
 the republicans, from the presbyterians, and from the 
 officers of the army. He tried every means to obtain a 
 parliament able and willing to take part with him in the ' 
 government ; but he tried in vain ; every party, the mo- 
 ment it was seated in St. Stephen's, endeavoured to Avrest 
 from him the authority which he exercised, and to rule 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 315 
 
 in its turn. I do not mean to deny that his personal in- 
 terest, the gratification of his darling ambition, was his 
 first care ; but it is no less certain that if he had abdi- 
 cated his authority one day, he would have been obliged 
 to resume it the next. Puritans or royalists, republicans 
 or officers, thert was no one but Cromwell who was in a 
 state at this time to govern with any thing like order or 
 justice. The experiment had been made. It seemed ab- 
 surd to think of leaving to parliaments, that is to say, to 
 the faction sitting in parliament, a government which 
 it could not maintain. Such was the extraordinary sit- 
 uation of Cromwell : he governed by a system which he 
 knew very well was foreign and hateful to the country, he 
 exercised an authority which was acknowledged necessa- 
 ry by all, but which was acceptable to none. No party 
 looked upon his domination as a definitive government. 
 Royalists, presbytsrians, republicans, even the army itself, 
 which appears to have been the party most devoted to 
 Cromwell, all looked upon his rule as transitorj^ He had 
 no hold upon the affections of the people ; he was never 
 more than o. pis-all er^ a last resort, a temporary necessity. 
 The protector, the absolute master of England, was obliged 
 all his life to have recourse to force to preserve his power j 
 no party could govern so well as he, but no party liked to 
 see the government in his hands : he was repeatedly 
 attacked by them all at once. 
 
 Upon Cromwell's death, there was no party in a situation 
 to seize upon the government except the republicans ; they 
 did seize upon it, but with no better success than before. 
 This happened from no lack of confidence, at least, in the 
 enthusiasts of the party. A spirited and talented tract, 
 published at this juncture by Milton, is entitled " A Ready 
 and Easy Way to establish a free Commonwealth." You 
 may judge of the blindness of these men, who soon fell 
 into a state which showed that it was quite as impossible 
 for them to carry on the government now as it had beeu 
 
316 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 before. Monk undertook the direction of that event which 
 all England now seemed anxious for. The Kestoration 
 was accomplished. 
 
 The restoration of the Stuarts was an event generally 
 pleasing to the nation. It brought back a government 
 which still dwelt in its memory, which was founded upon 
 its ancient traditions, while at the same time, it had some 
 of the advantages of a new government, in that it had not 
 recently been tried, in that its faults and its power had not 
 lately been felt. The ancient monarchy was the only sys- 
 tem of government which had not been decried, within 
 the last twenty years, for its abuses and want of capacity 
 in the administration of the affairs of the kingdom. From 
 these two causes the restoration was extremely popular; 
 it was unopposed by any but the dregs of the most violent 
 factions, while the public rallied round it wath great sin- 
 cerity. All parties in the country seemed now to believe 
 that this offered the only chance left of a stable and legal 
 government, and this was what, above all things, the na- 
 tion now desired. This also was what the restoration 
 seemed especially to promise ; it took much pains to pre- 
 sent itself under the aspect of legal government. 
 
 The first royalist party, indeed, to whom, upon the re- 
 turn of Charles the Second, the management of affairs 
 was intrusted, was the legal party, represented by its able 
 leader, the Lord Chancellor Clarendon. From 1660 to 
 1667, Clarendon was prime minister, and had the chief 
 direction of affairs : he and his friends brought back with 
 them their ancient principles of government, the absolute 
 sovereignty of the king, kept within legal bounds, limited 
 by the House of Commons as regards taxation, by the 
 public tribunals, in matters of private right, or relating to 
 individual liberty, — possessing, nevertheless, in point of 
 government, properly so called, an almost complete inde- 
 pendence, and the most decided preponderance, to the 
 exclusion or even in opposition to the votes of the major- 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODEKN EUROPE. 317 
 
 ities of the two houses, but particularly to that of the House 
 of Commons. In other matters there was not much to 
 complain of: a tolerable degree of respect was paid to 
 legal order ; there was a tolerable degree of solicitude for 
 the national interests ; a sufficiently noble sentiment of 
 national dignity was preserved, and a colour of morality 
 that was grave and honourable. Such was the character 
 of Clarendon's administration during the seven years the 
 government was committed to his charge. 
 
 But the fundamental principles upon which this admin- 
 istration was based — the absolute sovereignty of the king, 
 and a government beyond the preponderating control of 
 parliament — were now become old and powerless. Not- 
 withstanding the temporary reaction which took place at 
 the first burst of the restoration, twenty years of parlia- 
 mentary rule against royalty had destroyed them for ever. 
 A new party soon showed itself among the royalists ; lib- 
 ertines, profligates, wretches, who imbued with the free 
 opinions of the times, and seeing that power was with the 
 commons, — caring themselves but little about legal order, 
 or the absolute power of the king, — were only anxious for 
 success, and to discover the means of influence and power 
 in whatever quarter they were likely to be found. These 
 formed a party, and allying themselves with the national, 
 discontented party. Clarendon was discarded. 
 
 A new system of government now took place under 
 that portion of the royalists I have just described ; profli- 
 gates and libertines formed the administration of the Ca- 
 bal, and several others which followed it. What was their 
 character % Without inquietude respecting principles, 
 laws, or rights, or care for justice or truth ; they sought 
 the means of success upon every occasion, whatever these 
 means might be ; if success depended on the influence of 
 the commons, the commons were every thing ; if it was 
 necessary to cajole the commons, the commons were ca- 
 joled without scruple, even though they had to apologize 
 
 27* 
 
318 GfeNKRAL HlSTOR-y OP' 
 
 to them the next day. At one moment they attempted 
 corruption, at another they flattered the national wishes ; 
 no regard was shown for the general interests of the 
 country, for its dignity or its honour ; in a w ord, it w^as a 
 government profoundly selfish and immoral, totally unac- 
 quainted with all theory, principle, or public object ; but, 
 withal, in the practical management of affairs, showing 
 considerable intelligence and liberality. Such was the 
 character of the Cabal ministry, of Earl Danby's, and of 
 the English government from 1667 to 1679. Yet not- 
 withstanding its immorality, notwithstanding its disdain 
 of all principle, and of the true interests of the country, 
 this government was not so unpopular, not so odious to 
 the nation as that of Clarendon ; and this simply because 
 it adapted itself better to the times, better understood the 
 sentiments of the people, even while it derided them. It 
 Avas neither foreign nor antiquated, like that of Clarendon ; 
 and though infinitely more dangerous to the country, the 
 people accommodated themselves better to it. 
 
 But this corruption, this servility, this contempt of pub- 
 lic rights and public honour, were at last carried to such 
 a pitch as to be no longer supportable. A general outcry 
 was raised against this government of profligates. A 
 patriotic party supported by the nation, became gradu- 
 ally formed in the House of Commons, and the king 
 was obliged to take the leaders of it into his council. 
 Lord Essex, the son of him who had commanded the 
 first parliamentary armies in the civil war, Lord Russel, 
 and Lord Shaftesbury, who, without any of the virtues 
 of the other two, was much their superior in political 
 abilities, w^ere now called to the management of aflairs. 
 The national party, to whom the direction of the gov- 
 ernment was now committed, proved itself unequal to 
 the task : it could not gain possession of the moral force 
 of the country : it could neither manage the interests, 
 the habits, nor the prejudices of the king, of the court, 
 
CIVILlZAriON IN MODERN EUROPE. 3l9 
 
 nor of any with whom it had to do. It inspired no 
 party, either king or people, with any confidence ia 
 its energy or ability; and after holding power for a 
 short time, this national ministry completely failed. The 
 virtues of its leaders, their generous courage, the beauty 
 of their death, have raised them to a distinguished niche 
 in the temple of fame, and entitled them to honour- 
 able mention in the page of history ; but their political 
 capacities in no way corresponded to their virtues : they 
 could not wield power, though they could withstand its 
 corrupting influence, nor could they achieve a triumph for 
 that glorious cause, for which they could so nobly die ! 
 
 The failure of this attempt left the English restoration 
 in rather an awkward plight ; it had, like the English 
 revolution, in a manner tried all parties without success. 
 The legal ministry, the corrupt ministry, the national 
 ministry, having all failed, the country and the court 
 were nearly in the same situation as that which England 
 had been in before, at the dlose of the revolutionary 
 troubles in 1653. Recourse was had to the same expedi- 
 ent : what Cromwell had turned to the profit of the revo- 
 lution, Charles II. now turned to the profit of the crown j 
 he entered upon a career of absolute power. 
 
 James II. succeeded his brother ; and another question 
 now became mixed up with that of despotism : the ques- 
 tion of religion. James II. wished to achieve, at the same 
 time, a triumph for popery and for absolute power : now 
 again, as at the commencement of the revolution, there was 
 a religious struggle and apolitical struggle, and both were 
 directed against the government. It has often been asked, 
 what course affairs would have taken if William III. had 
 not existed, and came over to put an end to the quarrel 
 between James and the people. My firm belief is that the 
 same event would have taken place. All England, except 
 a very small party, was at this time arrayed against James; 
 and it seems very certain, that, under some form or other, 
 
320 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the revolution of 1688 must have been accomplished. 
 But at this crisis, causes even superior to the internal state 
 of England conduced to this event. It was European as 
 well as English. It is at this point that the English revo- 
 lution links itself, by facts, and independently of the influ- 
 ence of its example, to the general course of European 
 civilization. 
 
 While the struggle which I have just been narrating took 
 place in England, the struggle of absolute power against 
 religious and civil liberty — a struggle of the same kind, 
 however different the actors, the forms and the theatre, 
 took place upon the continent — a struggle which was at 
 bottom the same and carried on in the same cause. The 
 pure monarchy of Louis XIV. attempted to become univer- 
 sal monarchy, at least it gave the world every reason to 
 fear it ; and, in fact, Europe did fear it. A league was 
 formed in Europe between various political parties to re- 
 sist this attempt, and the chief of this league was the chief 
 of the party that struggled for the civil and religious lib- 
 erty of Europe — William, Prince of Orange. The pro- 
 testant republic of Holland, with William at its head, had 
 made a stand against pure monarchy, represented and con- 
 ducted by Louis XIV. The fight here was not for civil 
 and religious liberty in the interior of states, but for the 
 interior independence of the states themselves. Louis 
 XIV. and his adversaries never thought of debating the 
 questions which were debated so fiercely in England. 
 This struggle was not one of parties, but of states ; it was 
 carried on, not by political outbreaks and revolutions, but 
 by war and negotiation ; still, at bottom, the same princi- 
 ple was the subject of contention. 
 
 It happened, then, that the strife between absolute power 
 and liberty, which James II. renewed in England, broke 
 out at the very moment that this general struggle was going 
 on in Europe between Louis XIV. and the Prince of Orange, 
 the representatives of these two great systems, as well in the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 321 
 
 affairs which took place on the Thames as on the Scheldt. 
 The league against Louis was so powerful that many 
 sovereigns entered into it, either publicly, or in an under- 
 hand, though very effective manner, who were rather op- 
 posed than not to the interests of civil and religious liberty. 
 The Emperor of Germany and Innocent XL boih sup- 
 ported William against France. And William crossed the 
 channel to England less to serve the internal interests of 
 the country, than to draw il entirely into the struggle 
 against Louis. He laid hold of this kingdom as a new 
 force which he wanted, but of which his adversary had 
 had the disposal, up to this time against him. So lonp- as 
 Charles IL and James II. reigned, England belonged to 
 Louis XIV. ; he had the disposal of it, and had kept it em- 
 ployed against Holland. England then was snatched from 
 the side of absolute and universal monarchy, to become 
 the most powerful support and instrument of civil and 
 religious liberty. This is the view which must be taken, 
 as regards European civilization, of the revolution of 
 1688 ; it is this which gives it a place in the assemblage 
 of European events, independently of the influence of its 
 example, and of the vast efiect which it had upon the 
 minds and opinions of men in the following century. 
 
 Thus, I think, I have rendered it clear, that the true 
 sense, the essential character of this revolution is, as I 
 said at the outset of this lecture, an attempt to abolish 
 absolute power in the temporal order, as had already been 
 done in the spiritual. This fact appears in all the phases 
 of the revolution, from its first outbreak to the restora- 
 tion, and again in the crisis of 1G88 : and this not only as 
 regards its interior progress, but in its relations with Eu-* 
 rope in general. 
 
 It now only remains for us to study the same great 
 event, the struggle of free inquiry and pure monarchy, upon 
 the continent, or at least the causes and preparation of this 
 event. This will be the object of the next and final lecture. 
 
322 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 LECTURE XIV. 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 I ENDEAvorRED, at our last meeting, to ascertain the true 
 character and political object of the English revolution. 
 We have seen that it was the first collision of the two 
 great facts to which, in the course of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, all the civilization of primitive Europe tended, — 
 monarchy on the one hand, and free inquiry on the other. 
 These two powers came to blows, if I may use the expres- 
 sion, for the first time in England. It has been attempted, 
 from this circumstance, to deduce a radical difference be- 
 tween the social state of England and that of the Conti- 
 nent ; it has been contended, that no comparison could be 
 made between countries so differently situated ; and it 
 has been affirmed, that the English people had lived in a 
 sort of moral separation from the rest of Europe, analo- 
 gous to its physical insulation. 
 
 It is true, that between the civilization of England, and 
 that of the continental states, there has been a material 
 difference which it is important that we should rightly un- 
 derstand. You have already had a glimpse of it in the 
 course of these lectures. The development of the different 
 principles, the different elements of society, took place, in 
 some measure, at the same time, at least much more sim- 
 ultaneously than upon the Continent. When I endeavoured 
 to determine the complexion of European civilization as 
 compared wih the civilization of Ancient and Asiatic na- 
 tions, I showed that the former was varied, rich and com- 
 plex, and that it had never fallen under the influence of any 
 exclusive principle 3 that, in it, the different elements of the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 323 
 
 social state had combined, contended with, and modified 
 each other, and had continually been obliged to come to 
 an accommodation, and to subsist together. This fact, 
 which forms the general character of European civiliza- 
 tion, has in an especial manner been that of the civiliza- 
 tion of England : it is in that country that it has appeared 
 most evidently and uninterruptedly ; it is there that the 
 civil and religious orders, aristocracy, democracy, mon- 
 archy, local and central institutions, moral and political 
 development, have proceeded and grown up together, if 
 not with equal rapidity, at least but at a little distance 
 from each other. Under the reign of the Tudors, for 
 example, in the midst of the most remarkable progress of 
 pure monarchy, we have seen the democratic principle, the 
 popular power, make its way and gain strength almost at 
 the same time. The revolution of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury broke out ; it was at the same time religious and po- 
 litical. The feudal aristocracy appeared in it in a very 
 enfeebled state, and with all the symptoms of decay j it 
 was, however, still in a condition to preserve its place in 
 this revolution, and to have some share in its results. 
 The same thing has Leen the case in the whole course of 
 English history ; no ancient element has ever entirely 
 perished, nor any new element gained a total ascendency ; 
 no particular principle has ever obtained an exclusive in- 
 fluence. There has always been a simultaneous develop- 
 ment of the different forces, and a sort of negotiation or 
 compromise between their pretensions and interests. 
 
 On the continent the march of civilization had been less 
 complex and complete. The different elements of societjr, 
 the civil and religious orders, monarchy, aristocracy, de- 
 mocracy, have developed themselves, not together, and 
 abreast, as it were, but successively. Every principle, 
 every system, has in some neasure had its turn. One 
 age, for example, has belonged, I shall not say exclusively. 
 
824 GENERAL HISTORY Of 
 
 but with a decided predominance, to the feudal aristoc- 
 racy ; another to the principle of monarchy ; another to 
 the principle of democracy. Compare the middle ages 
 in France, with the middle ages in England ; the eleventh, 
 twelfth, and thirteenth centuries of our history with the 
 corresponding centuries on the other side of the channel; 
 you will find m France, at that epoch, feudalism in a state 
 of almost absolute sovereignty^ while monarchy and the 
 democratic principle scarcely had an existence. But turn 
 to England, and you will find, that although the feudal 
 aristocracy greatly predominated ; that monarchy and 
 democracy possessed, at the same time, strength and im- 
 portance. Monarchy triumphed in England under Eliza- 
 beth, as in France under Louis XIV. ; but what precau- 
 tions it was constrained to take ! how many restrictions, 
 sometimes aristocratic, sometimes democratic, it was obli- 
 ged to submit to ! In England, everj^ system, every prin- 
 ciple, has had its time of strength and success; but never 
 so completely and exclusively as on the continent: the 
 conqueror has always been constrained to tolerate the 
 presence of his rivals, and to leave them a certain share of 
 influence. 
 
 To this difference in the march of these two civilizations 
 there are attached advantages and inconveniences which 
 are apparent in the history of the two countries. There is 
 no doubt, for example, that the simultaneous development 
 of the different social elements has greatly contributed to 
 make England arrive more quickly than any of the conti- 
 nental states, at the end and aim of all society, that is to 
 say, the establishment of a government at once regular and 
 free. It is the very nature of a government to respect all 
 the interests, all the powers of the state, to conciliate them 
 and make them live and prosper in common: now such 
 was, beforehand, and by the concurrence of a multitude of 
 causes, the despotism and mutual relation of the different 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 325 
 
 elements of English society ; and, therefore, a general and 
 somewhat regular government had the less difficulty in 
 establishing itself. In like manner the essence of liberty 
 is the simultaneous manifestation and action of every in- 
 terest, every kind of right, every force, every social ele- 
 ment. England, therefore, had made a nearer approach 
 to liberty than most other states. From the same causes, 
 national good sense and intelligence of public affairs must 
 .have formed themselves more quickly than elsewhere j 
 political good sense consists in understanding and appre- 
 ciating every fact, and in assigning to each its proper part ; 
 in England it has been a necessary consequence of the 
 state of society, a natural result of the course of civili- 
 zation. 
 
 In the states of the Continent, on the contrary, every 
 system, every principle, having had its turn, and having 
 had a more complete and exclusive ascendency, the de- 
 velopment took place on a larger scale, and with more 
 striking circumstances. Monarchy and feudal aristocracy, 
 for example, appeared on the continental stage with more 
 boldness, extent, and freedom. Every political experiment, 
 so to speak, was broader and more complete. The re- 
 sult was, that political ideas — I speak of general ideas, and 
 not of good sense applied to the conduct of affairs ; that 
 political ideas and doctrines took a greater elevation, and 
 displayed themselves with much greater rational vigour. 
 Every system having, in some sort, presented itself singly, 
 and having remained a long time on the stage, people could 
 contemplate it in its general aspect, ascend to its first 
 principles, pursue it into its remotest consequences, and 
 lay bare its entire theory. Whoever observes with some 
 degree of attention the genius of the English nation, will 
 be struck with a double fact ; on the one hand, its steady 
 good sense and practical ability ; on the other, its w^ant of 
 general ideas and of elevation of thought upon theoretical 
 
 28 
 
326 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 questions. Whether we open an English work on history, 
 jurisprudence, or any other subject, we rarely find the 
 great and fundamental reason of things. In every subject, 
 and especially in the political sciences, pure philosophical 
 doctrines — science properly so called — have prospered 
 much more on the continent, than in England ; their flights, 
 at least, have been bolder and more vigorous. Indeed it 
 cannot be doubted that the different character of the de- 
 velopment of civilization in the two countries has greatly 
 contributed to this result. 
 
 At all events, whatever may be thought of the incon- 
 veniences or advantages which have been produced by 
 this difference, it is a real and incontestable fact, and 
 that which most essentially distinguishes England from 
 the Continent. But, though the difTerent principles, the 
 different social elements, have developed themselves more 
 simultaneously there, and more successively in France, it 
 does not follow that, at bottom, the road and the goal have 
 not been the same. Considered generally, the continent 
 and England have gone through the same great phases 
 of civilization ; events have followed the same course ; 
 similar causes have led to similar effects. You may have 
 convinced yourselves of this by the view I have given you 
 of civilization down to the sixteenth century ; you will 
 remark it no less in studying the seventeenth and eigh- 
 teenth centuries. The development of free inquiry, and 
 that of pure monarchy, almost simultaneous in England, 
 were accomplished on the Continent at pretty long inter- 
 vals ; but they were accomplished ; and these two powers, 
 after having successively exercised a decided predomi- 
 nance, came also into collision. The general march of 
 society, then, on the whole, has been the same ; and, 
 though the differences are real, the resemblance is still 
 greater. A rapid sketch of modern times will leave you 
 no doubt on this subject. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 327 
 
 The moment we cast our eyes on the history of Europe 
 hi the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, we cannot fail 
 to perceive that France marches at the head of European 
 civilization. At the beginning of this course, I strongly 
 affirmed this fact, and endeavoured to point out its cause. 
 We shall now find it more strikingly displayed than it has 
 ever been before. 
 
 The principle of pure and absolute monarchy had pre- 
 dominated in Spain, under Charles V. and Philip II., before 
 its development in France under Louis XIV. In like 
 manner the principle of free inquiry had reigned in Eng- 
 land in the seventeenth century, before its development in 
 France in the eighteenth. Pure monarchy, however, did 
 not go forth from Spain, nor free inquiry from England, to 
 make the conquest of Europe. The two principles or sys- 
 tems remained, in some sort, confined within the coun- 
 tries in which they sprang up. They required to pass 
 through France to extend their dominion ; pure monarchy 
 and liberty of inquiry were compelled to become French 
 before they could become European. That communicative 
 character of French civilization, that social genius of 
 France, which has displayed itself at every period, was 
 peculiarly conspicuous at the period which now engages 
 our attention. I shall not dwell upon this fact ; it has been 
 expounded to you, with equal force of argument and bril- 
 liancy, in the lectures in which your attention has been 
 directed to the influence of the literature and philosophy 
 of France in the eighteenth century. You have seen how 
 the philosophy of France had, in regard to liberty, more 
 influence on Europe than the liberty of England. You have 
 seen how French civilization showed itself much more ac- 
 tive and contagious than that of any other country. I have 
 no occasion, therefore, to dwell upon the details of this 
 fact ; I avail myself of it only in order to make it my ground 
 for making France comprehend the picture of modern Eu- 
 
328 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 ropean civilization. There were, no doubt, between French 
 civilization at this period, and that of the other states of 
 Europe, differences on which I ought to lay great stress, if 
 it were my intention at present to enter fully into this 
 subject ; but I must proceed so rapidly, that I am obliged 
 to pass over whole nations, and whole ages. I think it 
 better to confine your attention to the course of French 
 civilization, as being an image, though an imperfect one, 
 of the general course of things in Europe. 
 
 The influence of France in Europe, in the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries, appears under very different as- 
 pects. In the first of these centuries, it was the French 
 government which acted upon Europe, and took the lead 
 in the march of general civilization. In the second, it was 
 no longer to the French government, but to the French 
 society, to France herself, that the preponderance belong- 
 ed. It was at first Louis XIV. and his court, and then 
 France herself, and her public opinion, that attracted the 
 attention, and swayed the minds of the rest of Europe. 
 There were, in the seventeenth century, nations, who, as 
 such, made a more prominent appearance on the stage, and 
 took a greater share in the course of events, than the 
 French nation. Thus, during the thirty years' war, the 
 German nation, and the revolution of England, the Eng- 
 lish nation played, within their respective spheres, a much 
 greater part than the French nation, at that period, played 
 within theirs. In the eighteenth century, in like manner, 
 there were stronger, more respected, and more formidable 
 governments than that of France. There is no doubt that 
 Frederick II. and Maria Theresa had more activity and 
 weight in Europe than Louis XV. Still, at both of these 
 periods, France was at the head of European civilization, 
 first through her government, and afterwards through her- 
 self ; at one time through the political action of her rulers, 
 at another through her own intellectual development. To 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 329 
 
 understand thoroughly the predominent infiuence on the 
 course of civilization in France, and consequently in 
 Europe, we must therefore study, in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, the French government, and in the eighteenth, the 
 French nation. We must change our ground and our 
 objects of view, according as time changes the scene and 
 the actors. 
 
 Whenever the government of Louis XIV. is spoken of, 
 whenever we attempt to appreciate the causes of his 
 power and influence in Europe, we have little to consider 
 beyond his splendour, his conquests, his magnificence, 
 and the literary glory of his time. We must resort to 
 exterior causes in order to account for the preponderance 
 of the French government in Europe. 
 
 But this preponderance, in my opinion, was derived 
 from causes more deeply seated^ from motives of a more 
 serious kind. We m.ust not believe that it was entirely 
 by means of victories, festivals, or even master-pieces of 
 genius, that Louis XIV. and his government played, at 
 that period,, the part which no one can deny them. 
 
 Many of you may remember, and all of you have heard 
 of, the effect which, twenty-nine years ago, was produced 
 by the consular government in France, and the state in 
 Avhich it found our country. Abroad, foreign invasion 
 impending, and continual disasters in our armies ; at home, 
 the elements of government and society in a state of dis- 
 solution ; no revenues, no public order ; in short, a people 
 beaten, humbled and disorganized — siich was France at 
 the accession of the consular government. Who is there 
 that does not remember the prodigious and successful 
 activity of that government, an aativity which, in a short 
 time, secured the independence of our territory, revived 
 our national honour, re-organized the administration of 
 government, re-modelled o«r legislation, in short, gave 
 society, as it were, a new life under the hand of power, 1 
 28* 
 
330 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Well — the government of Louis XIV., when it began, 
 did something of the same kind for France ; with great 
 differences of times, of proceedings, and of forms, it pro- 
 secuted and attained very nearly the same results. 
 
 Remember the state into which France had fallen after 
 the government of Cardinal Richelieu, and during the 
 minority of Louis XIV. : the Spanish armies always on 
 the frontiers, and sometimes in the interior ; continual 
 danger of invasion ; internal dissensions carried to extre- 
 mity, civil war, the government weak, and decried both at 
 home and abroad. There never was a more miserable 
 policy, more despised in Europe, or more powerless in 
 France, than that of Cardinal Mazarin. In a word, socie^ 
 ty was in a state, less violent perhaps, but very analogous 
 to ours before the 18th of Brumaire. It was from that 
 state that the government of Louis XIV. delivered France. 
 His earliest victories had the effect of the victory of Ma- 
 rengo ; they secured the French territory and revived the 
 national honour. I am going to consider this government 
 under its various aspects, in its wars, its foreign relations, 
 its administration, and its legislation ; and you will see, I 
 believe, that the comparison which I speak of, and to 
 which I do not wish to attach a puerile importance, (for I 
 care very little about historical comparisons,) you will see, 
 I say, that this comparison has a real foundation, and that 
 I am fully justified in making it. 
 
 I shall first speak of the wars of Louis XIV. European 
 wars were originally (as you know,^ and as I have several 
 times had occasion to remind you) great popular move- 
 ments ; impelled by want, by some fancy, or any other 
 cause, whole populations, sometimes numerous, sometimes 
 consisting of mere bands, passed from one territory to 
 another. This was the general character of European 
 wars, till after the crusades, at the end of the thirteenth 
 century. 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 331 
 
 After this another kind of war arose, but almost equally 
 different from the wars of modern times : these were distant 
 wars, undertaken, not by nations, but by their governing 
 powers, who went, at the head of their armies, to seek, at a 
 distance, states and adventures. They quitted their coun- 
 try, abandoned their oa^ti territory, and penetrated, some 
 into Germany, others into Italy, and others into Africa, 
 with no other motive save their individual fancy. Almost 
 all the wars of the fifteenth, and even a part of the six- 
 teenth century, are of this character. What interest — 
 and I do not speak of a legitimate interest — but what mo- 
 tive had France for wishing that Charles VIII. should 
 possess the kingdom of Naples 1 It was evidently a war 
 dictated by no political considerations ; the king thought 
 he had personal claims on the kingdom of Naples ; and, 
 for this personal object, to satisfy his own personal desire, 
 he undertook the conquest of a distant country, which 
 was by no means adapted to the territorial conveniences of 
 his kingdom, but which, on the contrary, only endangered 
 his power abroad and his repose at home. Such, again, 
 was the case with regard to the expedition of Charles V. 
 into Africa. The last w^ar of this kind was the expedition 
 of Charles XII. against Russia. 
 
 The wars of Louis XIV. were not of this description; 
 they were the wars of a regular government — a govern- 
 ment fixed in the centre of its dominions, endeavouring to 
 extend its conquests around, to increase or consolidate its 
 territory ; in short, they were political wars. They may 
 have been just or unjust^ they may have cost France 
 loo dear ; — they may be objected to on many grounds 
 — on the score of morality or excess 5 but, in fact, they 
 were of a much more rational character than the wars 
 which preceded them; they were no longer fanciful 
 adventures; they were dictated by serious motives ; their 
 objects were, to reach some natural boundary, some 
 
232 GENERAL HISTORY 9F 
 
 population who spoke the same language, and might be 
 annexed to the kingdom, some point of defence against a 
 neighbouring power. Personal ambition, no doubt, had 
 a share in them ; but examine the wars of Louis XIV., 
 one after the other, especially those of the early part of 
 his reign, and you will find that their motives were really 
 political ; you will see that they were conceived with a 
 view to the power and safety of France. 
 
 This fact has been proved by results. France, at the 
 present day, in many respects, is what the wars of Louis> 
 XIV. made her. The provinces which he conquered,, 
 Franche-Comte, Flanders, and Alsace, have remained in- 
 corporated with France. There are rational conquests as 
 well as foolish ones: those of Louis XIV. were rational ;. 
 his enterprises have not that unreasonable capricious char- 
 acter, till then so general ; their policy was able, if not 
 always just and prudent. 
 
 If I pass from the wars of Louis XIV. to his relations 
 with foreign states, to his diplomacy properly so called, I 
 find an analogous result. I have already spoken of the 
 origin of diplomacy at the end of the fifteenth century. 1 
 have endeavoured to show how the mutual relations of 
 governments and states, previously accidental, rare, and 
 transient, had at that period become more regular and 
 permanent ; how they had assumed a character of great 
 public interest ; how, in short, at the end of the fifteenth 
 and during the first half of the sixteenth century, diplo- 
 macy had begun to perform a part of immense importance 
 in the course of events. Still, however, it was not till 
 the seventeenth century that it became really systematic ; 
 before then, it had not brought about long alliances, great 
 combinations, and especially combinations of a durable 
 nature, directed by fixed principles, with a steady object, 
 and with that spirit of consistency which forms the tru€ 
 character of established governments. During the course 
 
CIVILIZATION IN BIODERN EUROPE. 333 
 
 of the religious revolution, the foreign relations of states 
 had been almost completely under the influence of religious 
 interests ; the protestant and catholic leagues had divided 
 Europe between them. It was in the seventeenth century, 
 under the influence of the government of Louis XIV. that 
 diplomacy changed its character. On the one hand, it got 
 rid of the exclusive influence of the religious principle ; 
 alliances and political combinations took place from other 
 considerations. At the same time it became much more 
 systematic an.d regular, and was always directed towards 
 a certain object, according to permanent princip-es. The 
 regular birth of the system of the balance of power in 
 Europe, took place at this period. It was under the gov- 
 ernment of Louis XIV. that this system, with all the con- 
 siderations attached to it, really took possession of the 
 politics of Europe. "When we inquire what was, on this 
 subject, the general idea or ruling principle of the policy 
 of Louis XIV., the following seems to be the result. 
 
 I have spoken of the great struggle which took place in 
 Europe between the pure monarchy of Louis XIV., pre- 
 tending to establish itself as the universal system of mon- 
 archy, and civil and religious liberty, and the independ- 
 ence of states, under the command of the Prince of Or- 
 ange, William III. You have seen that the great European 
 fact, at that epoch, was the division of the powers of Eu- 
 rope under these two banners. But this fact was not then 
 understood as I now explain it ; it w^as hidden, and un- 
 known even to those by w^hom it was accomplished. The 
 repression of the system of pure monarchy, and the con- 
 secration of civil and religious liberty, was necessarily, 
 at bottom, the result of the resistance of Holland and her 
 allies to Louis XIV. ; but the question between absolute 
 power and liberty was not then thus absolutely laid down. 
 It has been frequently said that the propagation of abso- 
 lute power was the ruling principle in the diplomacy of 
 
334 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Louis XIV. I do not think so. It was at a late period, 
 and in his old age, that this consideration assumed a great 
 part in his policy. The power of France, her preponder- 
 ance in Europe, the depression of rival powers, — in short, 
 the political interest and strength of the state, was the 
 object which Louis XIV. always had in view, w^hether he 
 was contending against Spain, the Emperor of Germany, 
 or England. He was much less actuated by a wish for 
 the propagation of absolute power, than by a desire for 
 the aggrandizement of France and his own government. 
 Among many other proofs of this, there is one which 
 emanates from Louis XIV. himself. We find in his Me- 
 moirs, for the year 1666, if I remember rightly, a note 
 conceived nearly in these terms : 
 
 " This morning I had a conversation with Mr. Sidney, 
 an English gentleman, who spoke to me of the possibility 
 of reviving the republican party in England. Mr. Sidney 
 asked me for ^£400,000 for this purpose. I told him I 
 could not give him more than £200,000. He prevailed on 
 me to send to Switzerland for another English gentleman, 
 called Mr. Ludlow, that I might converse with him upon 
 the same subject." 
 
 We find accordingly, in Ludlow's Memoirs, about the 
 same date, a paragraph to the following import : 
 
 " I have received from the French government an invi- 
 tation to go to Paris, to have some discussion on the af- 
 fairs of my country ; but I distrust this government." 
 
 And, in fact, Ludlow did remain in Switzerland. 
 
 You see that the object of Louis XIV. at that time was to 
 weaken the royal power of England. He fomented inter- 
 nal dissensions, he laboured to revive the republican party, 
 in order to hinder Charles II. from becoming too powerful 
 in his own country. In the course of Barillon's embassy 
 to England, the same fact is constantly apparent. As often 
 as the authority of Charles II. seems to be gaining the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 335 
 
 ascendency, and the national party on the point of beino- 
 overpowered, the French ambassador turns his influ- 
 ence in that direction, gives money to the leaders of the 
 opposition, and, in short, contends against absolute power, 
 as soon as that becomes the means of weakening a rival 
 of France. Whenever we attentively examine the con- 
 duct of foreign relations under Louis XIV., this is the 
 fact which we are struck with. 
 
 We are also surprised at the capacity and ability of the 
 French diplomacy at this period. The names of Torcy, 
 D'Av^aux, and Bonrepaus, are known to all well-informed 
 persons. When we compare the despatches, the memo- 
 rials, the skill, the management of these councillors of 
 Louis XIV., with those of the Spanish, Portuguese, and 
 German negotiators, we are struck with the superiority 
 of the French ministers ; not only with their serious ac- 
 tivity and application to business, but with their freedom 
 of thought. These courtiers of an absolute king judge of 
 foreign events, of parties, of the demands for freedom, 
 and of popular revolutions, much more soundly than the 
 greater part of the English themselves of that period. 
 There is no diplomacy in Europe in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury which appears equal to the diplomacy of France, 
 except perhaps that of Holland. The ministers of Jon 
 de WiU and William of Orange, those illustrious leaders 
 of the party of civil and religious liberty, are the only 
 ones who appear to have been in a condition to contend 
 with the servants of the great absolute king. 
 
 You see, that, whether we consider the wars of Louis 
 XIV., or his diplomatic relations, we arrive at the same 
 results. We can easily conceive how a government which 
 conducted in such a manner its wars and negotiations, 
 must have acquired great solidity in Europe, and assumed 
 not only a formidable, but an able and imposing aspect. 
 
 Let us now turn our eyes to the interior of France, and 
 
336 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 the administration and legislation of Louis XIV. ; we 
 shall everywhere find new explanations of the strength 
 and splendour of his government. 
 
 It is difficult to determine precisely what ought to be 
 understood by administration in the government of a 
 state. Still, when v/e endeavour to come to a distinct 
 understanding on this subject, we acknowledge, I be- 
 lieve, that, under the most general point of view, admin- 
 istration consists in an assemblage of means destined to 
 transmit, as speedily and surely as possible, the will of 
 the central power into all departments of society, and, 
 under the same conditions, to make the powers of society 
 return to the central power, either in men or money. 
 This, if I am not mistaken, is the true object, the prevail- 
 ing character, of administration. From this we may per- 
 ceive that, in times where it is especially necessary to es- 
 tablish union and order in society, administration is the 
 great means of accomplishing it, — of bringing together, 
 cementing and uniting scattered and incoherent elements. 
 Such, in fact, was the work of the administration of Louis 
 XIV. Till his time, nothing had been more difficult, in 
 France as well as in the rest of Europe, than to cause 
 the action of the central power to penetrate into all the 
 parts of society, and to concentrate into the heart of the 
 central power the means of strength possessed by the so- 
 ciety at large. This was the object of Louis's endeavours, 
 and he succeeded in it to a certain extent, incomparably 
 better, at least, than preceding governments had done. 
 I cannot enter into any details; but take a survey of 
 every kind of public service, the taxes, the highways, in- 
 dustry, the military administration, and the various estab- 
 lishments which belong to any branch of administration 
 whatever ; there is hardly any of them which you will not 
 find to have either been originated, developed, or greatly 
 meliorated, under the reign of Louis XIV. It was 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 337 
 
 as administrators that the greatest men of his time, such 
 as Colbert and Louvois, displayed their genius and exer- 
 cised their ministerial functions. It was thus that his go- 
 vernment acquired a comprehensiveness, a decision and a 
 consistency, which were wanting in all the European 
 governments around him. 
 
 The same fact holds with respect to this government, 
 as regards its legislative capacity. I will again refer to 
 the comparison I made in the outset to the legislative ac- 
 tivity of the Consular government, and its prodigious 
 labour in revising and remodelling the laws. A labour of 
 the same kind was undertaken under Louis XIV. The 
 great ordinances which he passed and promulgated, — the 
 ordinances on the criminal law, on forms of procedure, 
 on commerce, on the navy, on waters and forests, — are 
 real codes of law, which Avere constructed in the same 
 manner as our codes, having been discussed in the Coun- 
 cil of State, sometimes under the presidency of Lamoig- 
 non. There are men whose glory it is to have taken a 
 share in this labour and those discussions, — M. Pussort, 
 for example. If we had to consider it simply in itself, 
 w^e should have a great deal to say against the legislation 
 of Louis XIV. It is full of faults which are now evident, 
 and which nobody can dispute j it was not conceived in 
 the spirit of justice and true liberty, but with a view to 
 public order, and to give regularity and stability to the 
 laws. But even that alone was a great progress ; and it 
 cannot be doubted that the legislative acts of Louis XIV., 
 very superior to the previous state of legislation, power- 
 fully contributed to the advancement of French society 
 in the career of civilization. 
 
 Under whatever point of view, then, we regard this 
 government, we can at once discover the means of its 
 strength and influence. It was, in truth, the first govern- 
 ment which presented itself to the eyes of Europe as a 
 
 29 
 
338 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 power sure of its position, which had not to dispute for 
 its existence Avith domestic enemies, which was tranquil 
 in regard to its territory and its people, and had nothing 
 to think of but the care of governing. Till then, all the 
 European governments had been incessantly plunged into 
 wars which deprived them of security as well as leisure, 
 or so assailed by parties and enemies at home, that they 
 passed their time in fighting for their existence. The 
 government of Louis XIV. appeared to be the first that 
 was engaged solely in managing its affairs like a power 
 at once definitive and progressive, which was not afraid 
 of making innovations, because it reckoned upon the fu- 
 ture. In fact, few governments have been more given to 
 innovation. Compare it with a government of the same 
 nature, with the pure monarchy of Philip II. in Spain, 
 which was more absolute than that of Louis XIV., and 
 yet was less regular and tranquil. How did Philip IL 
 succeed in establishing absolute power in Spain ] By 
 stifling every kind of activity in the country ; by refus- 
 ing his sanction to every kind of improvement, and thus 
 rendering the state of Spain completely stationary. The 
 government of Louis XIV., on the contrary, was active 
 in every kind of innovation, and favourable to the pro- 
 gress of letters, arts, riches — favourable, in a word, to 
 civilization. These were the true causes of its prepon- 
 derance in Europe — a preponderance so great, that it was, 
 on the Continent, during the seventeenth centurjr, not 
 only for sovereigns, but even for nations, the type and 
 model of governments. , 
 
 It is frequently asked, and it is impossible to avoid ask- 
 ing, how a power so splendid and well established — to 
 judge from the circumstances I have pointed out to you, 
 should have fallen so quickly into a state of decay'? how, 
 after having played so great a part in Europe, it became, 
 in the following century, so inconsiderable, so weak, and 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 339 
 
 SO little respected % The fact is undeniable : in the seven- 
 teenth century, the French government stood at the head 
 of European civilization. In the eighteenth century it 
 disappeared ; it was the society of France, separated from 
 its government, and often in a hostile position towards it, 
 which led the way and guided the progress of the Euro- 
 pean world. 
 
 It is here that we discover the incorrigible vice and in- 
 fallible effect of absolute power. I shall not enter into any 
 detail respecting the faults of the government of Louis 
 XIV. ; and there were great ones. I shall not speak . 
 either of the war of the succession in Spain, or the revo- 
 cation of the edict of Nantes, or the excessive expendi- 
 ture, or many other fatal measures which affected its char- 
 acter. I will take the merits of the government, such as 
 I have described them. I will admit that, probably, there 
 never was an absolute power more completely acknowledg- 
 ed, by its age and nation, or which has rendered more real 
 services to the civilization of its country as well as to 
 Europe in general. It followed, indeed, from the single 
 circumstance, that this government had no other principle 
 than absolute power, and rested entirely on this basis, that 
 its decay was so sudden and deserved. What was essen- 
 tially wanting to France in Louis XIV.'s time was institu- 
 tions, political powers, which were independent and self- 
 existent, capable, in short, of spontaneous action and re- 
 sistance. The ancient French institutions, if they deserve 
 the name, no longer subsisted ; Louis XIV. completed 
 their destruction. He took care not to replace them by 
 new institutions ; they would have constrained him, and he 
 did not choose constraint. The will and action of the 
 central power were all that appeared with splendour at 
 that epoch. The government of Louis XIV. is a 
 great fact; a powerful and brilliant fact, but it was 
 built upon sand. Free institutions are a guarantee, not 
 
340 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 only for the prudence of governments, but also for 
 their stability. No system can endure otherwise than by 
 institutions. Wherever absolute power has been perma- 
 nent, it has been based upon, and supported by, real institu- 
 tions ; sometimes by the division of society into castes, 
 distinctly separated, and sometimes by a system of reli- 
 gious institutions. Under the reign of Louis XIV. power, 
 as well as liberty, needed institutions. There was nothing 
 in France, at that time, to protect either the country from 
 the illegitimate action of the government, or the govern- 
 ment itself against the inevitable action of time. Thus, 
 we behold the government assisting its own decay. It 
 was not Louis XIV. only, who grew old, and became 
 feeble, at the end of his reign, it was the whole system of 
 absolute power. Pure monarchy was as much worn out 
 in 1712, as the monarch himself. And the evil was so 
 much the more serious, that Louis XIV. had destroyed 
 political habits as well as political institutions. There can 
 be no political habits without independence. He only who 
 feels that he is strong in himself, is always capable either 
 of serving the ruling power, or of contending with it. En- 
 ergetic characters disappear along with independent situa- 
 tions, and a free and high spirit arises from the security of 
 rights. 
 
 We may, then, describe in the following terms, the state 
 in which the French nation, and the power of the govern- 
 ment were left by Louis XIV. : in society there was a 
 great development of wealth, strength, and intellectual ac- 
 tivity of every kind ; and, along with this progressive socie- 
 ty, there was a government essentially stationary, and with- 
 out means to adapt itself to the movement of the people ; 
 devoted, after half a century of great splendour, to immo- 
 bility and weakness, and already fallen, even in the lifetime 
 of its founder, into a decay almost resembling dissolution. 
 Such was the situation of France at the expiration of the 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 341 
 
 seventeenth century, and which impressed upon the subse- 
 quent period so different a direction and character. 
 
 It is hardly necessary for me to remark that a great 
 movement of the human mind, that a spirit of free inquiry, 
 was the predominant feature, the essential fact of the eigh- 
 teenth century. You have already heard from this chair a 
 great deal on this topic; you have already heard this 
 momentous period characterized, by the voices of a phi- 
 losophic orator and an eloquent philosopher.* I cannot 
 pretend, in the small space of time which remains to me, 
 to follow all the phases of the great revolution which was 
 then accomplished ; neither, however, can I leave you 
 without calling your attention to some of its features 
 which perhaps have been too little remarked. 
 
 The first, which occurs to me in the outset, and which, 
 indeed, I have already pointed out, is the almost entire 
 disappearance (so to speak) of the government in the 
 course of the eighteenth century, and the appearance of 
 the human mind as the principal and almost sole actor. 
 Excepting in what concerned foreign relations, under the 
 ministry of the Duke de Choiseul, and in some great con- 
 cessions made to the general bent of the public mind, in 
 the American war. for example ; — excepting, I say, in 
 some events of this kind, there perhaps never was a gov- 
 ernment so inactive, apathetic, and inert, as the French 
 government of that time. In place of the ambitious and 
 active government of Louis XIV., which was everywhere, 
 and at the head of every thing, you hav^e a power whose 
 only endeavour, so much did it tremble for its own safety, 
 was to slink from public view — to hide itself from danger. 
 It was the nation which, by its intellectual movement, in- 
 terfered with every thing, and alone possessed moral au- 
 thority, the only real authority, 
 
 * The lectures of Villemain and Cousin. 
 29* 
 
342 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 A second characteristic which strikes me in the state 
 of the human mind in the eighteenth century, is the univer- 
 sality of the spirit of free inquiry. Till then, and particu- 
 larly in the sixteenth century, free inquiry had been exer- 
 cised in a very limited field ; its object had been sometimes 
 religious questions, and sometimes religious and political 
 questions conjoined ; but its pretensions did not extend 
 much further. In the eighteenth century, on the con- 
 trary, free inquiry became universal in its character and 
 objects : religion, politics, pure philosophy, man and so- 
 ciety, moral and physical science — everything became, at 
 once, the subject of study, doubt, and system; the ancient 
 sciences were overturned ; new sciences sprang up. It 
 was a movement which proceeded in every direction, 
 though emanating from one and the same impulse. 
 
 This movement, moreover, had one peculiarity, which 
 perhaps can be met with at no other time in the history of 
 the world ; that of being purely speculative. Until that 
 time, in all great human revolutions, action had promptly 
 mingled itself with speculation. Thus, in the sixteenth 
 century, the religious revolution had begun by ideas and 
 discussions purely intellectual ; but it had, almost imme- 
 diately, led to events. The leaders of the intellectual par- 
 ties had very speedily become leaders of political parties ; 
 the realities of life had mingled with the workings of the 
 intellect. The same thing had been the case, in the seven- 
 teenth century, in the English revolution. In France, in 
 the eighteenth century, we- see the human mind exercising 
 itself upon all subjects,— upon ideas which, from their con- 
 nexion with the real interests of life, necessarily had the 
 most prompt and powerful influence upon events. And yet 
 the promoters of, and partakers in, these great discussions, 
 continued to be strangers to every kind of practical activity^ 
 pure speculators, who observed, judged, and spoke without 
 ever proceeding to practice. There never was a period 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 34-3 
 
 in which the government of facts, and external realities, was 
 SO completely distinct from the government of thought. 
 The separation of spiritual from temporal affairs has never 
 been real in Europe, except in the eighteenth century. For 
 the first time, perhaps, the spiritual world developed itself 
 quite separately from the temporal world ; a fact of the 
 greatest importance, and which had a great influence on the 
 course of events. It gave a singular character of pride 
 and inexperience to the mode of thinking of the time : 
 philosophy was never more ambitious of governing the 
 world, and never more completely failed in its object. 
 This necessarily led to results ; the intellectual movement 
 necessarily gave, at last, an impulse to external events ; 
 and, as they had been totally separated, their meeting was 
 so much the more difficult, and their collision so much 
 the more violent. 
 
 We can hardly now be surprised at another character of 
 the human mind at this epoch, I mean its extreme bold- 
 ness. Prior to this, its greatest activity had always been 
 restrained by certain barriers ; man had lived in the midst 
 of facts, some of which inspired him with caution, and 
 repressed, to a certain degree, his tendency to movement. 
 In the eighteenth century, I should really be at a loss to 
 say what external facts were respected by the human 
 mind, or exercised any influence over it ; it entertained 
 nothing but hatred or contempt for the whole social sys- 
 tem ; it considered itself called upon to reform all things; 
 it looked upon itself as a sort of creator ; institutions, 
 opinions, manners, society, even man himself, — all seemed 
 to require to be re-modelled, and human reason undertook 
 the task. Whenever, before, had the human mind dis- 
 played such daring boldness 1 
 
 Such, then, was the power which, in the course of the 
 eighteenth century, was confronted with what remained 
 of the government of Louis XIV. It is clear to us all that 
 
344 GENERAL HISTORY OF 
 
 a collision between these two unequal forces was una- 
 voidable. The leading fact of the English revolution, the 
 struggle between free inquiry and pure monarchy, was 
 therefore sure to be repeated in France. The diiferences 
 between the two cases, undoubtedly, were great, and ne- 
 cessarily perpetuated themselves in the results of each ; 
 but, at bottom, the general situation of both was similar, 
 and the event, itself, must be explained in the same 
 manner. 
 
 I by no means intend to exhibit the infinite consequen- 
 ces of this collision in France. I am drawing towards the 
 close of this course of lectures ; and must hasten to con- 
 clude. I wish, however, before quitting you, to call your 
 attention to the gravest, and, in my opinion, the most in- 
 structive fact which this great spectacle has revealed to 
 us. It is the danger, the evil, the insurmountable vice of 
 absolute power, wheresoever it may exist, whatsoever 
 name it may bear, and for whatever object it may be ex- 
 ercised. We have seen that the government of Louis 
 XIV. perished almost from this single cause. The power 
 which succeeded it, the human mind, the real sovereign 
 of the eighteenth century, underwent the same fate j in 
 its turn, it possessed almost absolute power, in its turn, 
 its confidence in itself became excessive-* Its movement 
 was noble, good, and useful ; and, were it necessary for 
 me to give a general opinion on the subject, I should 
 readily say that the eighteenth century appears to me 
 one of the grandest epochs in the history of the world, 
 that perhaps which has done the greatest service to man- 
 kind, and has produced the greatest and most general im- 
 provement. If I Vv'ere called upon, however, to pass judg- 
 ment upon its ministry (if I may use such an expression), 
 I should pronounce sentence in its favour. It is not the 
 less true, however, that the absolute power exercised at 
 this period by the human mind, corrupted it, and that it 
 
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 34-5 
 
 entertained an illegitimate aversion to the subsisting state 
 of things, and to all opinions which differed from the pre- 
 vailing one ; — an aversion which led to error and tyranny. 
 The proportion of error and tyranny, indeed, which 
 mingled itself in the triumph of human reason at the 
 end of the century — a proportion, the greatness of which 
 cannot be dissembled, and which ought to be exposed 
 instead of being passed over — this infusion of error 
 and tj'ranny, I say, was a consequence of the delusion 
 into which the human mind was led at that period by 
 the extent of its power. It is the duty, and will be, I 
 believe, the peculiar event of our time, to acknowledge 
 that all power, whether intellectual or temporal, whether 
 belonging to governments or people, to philosophers or 
 ministers, in whatever cause it may be exercised — that all 
 human power, I say, bears within itself a natural vice, a 
 principle of feebleness and abuse, which renders it neces- 
 sary that it should be limited. Now, there is nothing but 
 the general freedom of every right, interest, and opinion, 
 the free manifestation and legal existence of all these 
 forces — there is nothing, I say, but a system which ensures 
 all this, can restrain every particular force or power with- 
 in its legitimate bounds, and prevent it from encroaching 
 on the others, so as to produce the real and beneficial 
 subsistence of free inquiry. For us, this is the great re- 
 sult, the great moral of the struggle which took place at 
 the close of the eighteenth century, between what may be 
 called temporal absolute power and spiritual absolute 
 power. 
 
 I am now arrived at the end of the task which I under- 
 took. You will rememb-gr, that, i-n bigma'irygjthisj course, 
 I stated that my object wa« to- give you a general' vie v/- of 
 the development of Europe?vn pivilizatiQ^^frQipitbe.f^ll of 
 the Roman Empire to ithje^'pce'sep.i timei.-. j hnve: passed 
 very rapidly over this long career j so rapidly that it has 
 
346 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 been quite out of my power even to touch upon every- 
 thing of importance, or to bring proofs of those facts to 
 which I have drawn your attention. I hope, however, 
 that I have attained my end, which was to mark the great 
 epochs of the development of modern society. Allow me 
 to add a word more. I endeavoured, at the outset, to 
 define civilization, to describe the fact which bears that 
 name. Civilization appeared to me to consist of two 
 principal facts, the development of human society and 
 that of man himself ; on the one hand, his political and 
 social, and on the other, his internal and moral, advance- 
 ment. This year I have confined myself to the history 
 of society. I have exhibited civilization only in its social 
 point of view. I have said nothing of the development 
 of man himself. I have made no attempt to give you the 
 history of opinions, — of the moral progress of human 
 nature. I intend, when we meet again here, next season, 
 to confine myself especially to France ; to study with you 
 the history of French civilization, but to study it in detail 
 and under its various aspects. I shall try to make you 
 acquainted not only with the history of society in France, 
 but also with that of man ; to follow, along with you, the 
 progress of institutions, opinions, and intellectual labours 
 of every sort, and thus to arrive at a comprehension of 
 what has been, in the most complete and general sense, 
 the development of our glorious country. In the past, as 
 well as in the future, she has a right to our warmest affec- 
 tions. 
 
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