BOOK 90 1.D344 c. 1 
 
 DEAN # HISTORY OF EUROPEAN 
 
 SOCIETY AND ELEMENTS OF ^^ PH^^^^^^ 
 
 3 1153 00E03EEa 4 
 

 Date Due 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Demco 293-5 
 
 
 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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6 
 
 HISTORY 
 
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 .^JjU-^ 
 
 OF 
 
 rt^fc 
 
 EUROPEAN SOCIETY 
 
 ELEMENTS OF ITS PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 AMOS DEAN, LL D 
 
 ^.^^^ 
 
 ALBANY, N. Y. : 
 JOEL M U N S E L L 
 
 18t6. 
 
^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 - CHAPTER I. 
 
 "^ European Society. 
 
 XT' P^<*^- 
 
 ^Y Society as it existed among the Early European Races, - - 11 
 
 Society as it existed in the Middle Ages and under the Feudal 
 System, - - 43 
 
 r^ Society as it existed in the Age of Chivalry, - - - 55 
 
 '^ Society as it existed in the Age of the Troubadours, - - 72 
 
 Society as it has developed and is developing itself in the dif- 
 ferent European Nations, 80 
 
 ""4 
 
 A CHAPTER II. 
 
 I 
 
 s^ Elements of Philosophy in Modern Europe. 
 
 VV Scholastic Philosophy, - - 234 
 
 Transition from the Scholastic to the Modern Philosophy, - 253 
 
 Modern Philosophy — Bacon, 270 
 
 VSlResults of the Baconian Philosophy — Hobbes, Locke, - - 287 
 
 ^Outgrowth of the Baconian Philosophy — Materialism: Hart- 
 V;) ley, Darwin, Condillac, Helvetius, Holbach, Cabanis, 
 . ^ DeTracey. Skepticism : Berkeley, _ - - - 303 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Rationalistic Philosophy — Descartes, Malehranche, Spinoza, - 317 
 
 Skepticism — Hume — Monadology — Leibnitz,- - - 332 
 
 Common Sense Philosophy — The Scottish School — Reid, 
 
 Stewart, Hamilton, - -- 347 
 
 Phrenology — G-all, Spurzheim, Combe, - - - - 369 
 
 Critical Philosophy — The German School — Kant, - - 383 
 
 Idealism — Fichte, 399 
 
 Pantheism — Schelling, Hegel, 414 
 
 Mysticism — Jacobi. Realism — Herbart, - - - 449 
 
 Eclectic Philosophy — Cousin, 465 
 
 Positive System of Philosophy — Comte, - - - - 484 
 
 Index, 513 
 
HISTORY OF OIYILIZATIOIf. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 
 
 Society is founded upon the agreeable. It is embodied 
 in the manners and customs of a people. It culminates in 
 the principles of politeness. Its mission is to gratify the 
 social instinct. 
 
 The very existence of society presupposes the fact of 
 order. Human propensities and passions, and even senti- 
 ments, must first be subjected to the restraint of law, before 
 society can even be rendered possible. That law must 
 possess sufficient strength to impose proper limits upon 
 their exercise; and then society, with all its convivialities 
 and bland exhibitions, is like the fl.ame that glows on the 
 summit of the volcano, whose rock-ribbed sides, represent- 
 ing the force of law, stand a perpetual guard keeping within 
 their proper bounds the fearful elements of commotion 
 that rage within. Thus the element of government must 
 precede that of society in those successive elemental deve- 
 lopments that make up the record of civilization. 
 
 The illustration just referred to may still further serve 
 our purpose. The flame and substances issuing from its 
 crater indicate two facts : 
 
 1. The nature and character of those molten masses 
 that roll and rage, and boil within. 
 
 2. The actual condition and state of activity, at any given 
 time, of those liquid masses, as to their being violently 
 agitated, or in a state of repose. 
 
 VI] 1 
 
2 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Thus society, as it gathers up all the law, will permit of 
 the exhibition of propensity, passion, and sentiment; will, 
 as she exhibits herself to us at different times, proclaim the 
 true nature and character of those internal hidden forces 
 and powers of action, which the law, at times, finds it 
 hard to control. And so also will she enable us, at any 
 given period of time, to understand the then state and con- 
 dition of those forces and powers, in respect of their activity 
 or repose. 
 
 Again, the volcano finds in its crater a safety valve, 
 through which a portion of those fiery elements seek their 
 vent, and without which the stout mountain sides could 
 not keep imprisoned its fierce and terrible inmates. And 
 so may society be regarded as the safety valve of every age 
 and people, through which those propensities, passions and 
 sentiments find their natural means of escape, which might 
 otherwise endanger the existence of every social and politi- 
 cal fabric. Thus society, while it evidences the existence 
 and activity of those energetic forces that are inherent in 
 human nature, serves also, at the same time, the purpose of 
 a safety valve to prevent their restrained action from the 
 production of hurtful effects. 
 
 But society is not alone the offspring of propensity, pas- 
 sion, and sentiment. Its sources lie deep among the fun- 
 damental facts of man's individual being. It gathers up its 
 strength, and receives its supplies, from every active power 
 of his nature, whatever its office, whether to think or to 
 feel. While the intellect is shaping its conceptions, and 
 giving form and definiteness to its ideas, the mirthful may 
 be impressing them with its own laughter-loving qualities, 
 or the ideal hanging around them its spell of beauty. 
 
 Society is an instrument that vibrates to all tones. JSTow 
 it kindles at the voices of gayety and gladness, lighting up its 
 torch at the fires of a rejoicing heart; anon it sinks into 
 gloom and sadness, covered with the mantle of mourning 
 and the weeds of woe. I^ow it is an inhabitant of earth, 
 with earthly facts for its basis, and earthly fancies for 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 3 
 
 its adornment; then it penetrates the depths of man's 
 spiritual nature, and evokes from them modifications of 
 thought and feehng that are not of this world. "While at 
 times it is free and open as the day, at others it seeks the 
 veil of mystery, and claims acquaintance with the un- 
 known. It presides over marriage with its song and 
 dance; over the pastimes of childhood with its happy faces 
 and joyous hearts; over the sports and convivialities of 
 middle age, with its fullness of health and strength ; over 
 the graver socialities of more advanced life, with its lines 
 of care, its results of experience, and its wealth of wisdom ; 
 and, at last, with its funereal torch, throws its glare over 
 the inanimate body as it sinks to its final resting place. 
 
 Thus it is that society, in all its different phases, reveals 
 to the outward world what had its birth in the inward. 
 All the inner promptings of our nature, all the thoughts, 
 feelings, instincts, propensities, passions and sentiments, 
 whose ceaseless action goes to make up the history of our 
 inner life, and which do not endanger the existence of 
 society itself, will, in some form or other, become revealed 
 to the outward world under the auspices of society. And 
 this revelation, carefully noted, will, at any given epoch, 
 constitute society a very excellent barometer, to determine 
 what are the workings of the inward man, what the then 
 condition of civilization itself. 
 
 It must not, however, be understood, that the law is the 
 only restraining power for the purpose of preventing the 
 interior communings of the soul and mind, from passing 
 into outward act and show. There are conservative forces 
 even in society itself, that bring about the same result. 
 Society has everywhere its own code of laws, although 
 they may vary essentially among different nations and 
 peoples. It has also its own peculiar sanctions by which 
 its laws are enforced. These consist in the approvals it 
 bestows upon the obedient, and the blasted name, and 
 sometimes utter exclusion, which awaits those who are 
 guilty of a violation. 
 
4 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 In the history of society, especially of the European, 
 that of the female sex will be largely included. It is in 
 this element that this sex finds its appropriate place in the 
 history of civilization. The nature and the endowments 
 of woman eminently fit her for a commanding position in 
 the higher and more refined circles of society. She has 
 usually a correct moral feeling, a great susceptibility to 
 enjoyment, strong feelings of afiection, a love of approval 
 and a desire of pleasing others, united with a vivid 
 imagination, a happy facility of observation, and a ready 
 and discursive intellect, which eminently fit her for the 
 regulation and government of society. It has hence re- 
 sulted that in all the civilized countries of Europe she has 
 either actually presided over it, or taken the lead, in 
 its varied developments. Her faultless taste and natural 
 tact find here the materials which can give them constant 
 employment. "Were religion, society, and art annihilated, 
 the mere woman would have little to do with civilization, 
 and her fate would be indeed deplorable. But in each of 
 these she is fitted largely to participate, and thus to play 
 no inconsiderable a part in the onward progress of 
 civilization. 
 
 The development of the social instinct is modified by 
 the action of several causes. One of these, and perhaps 
 the most important, is climate. This operates as a modi- 
 fier of society in two ways : 
 
 1. By the direct influence it exerts. This is primarily 
 upon the physical organization, and through that upon 
 the mental and moral. This fact becomes the most clearly 
 revealed when we look upon men in the different zones, 
 the frigid, temperate and torrid. Like all the other pro- 
 ductions of nature the race presents its varieties in differ- 
 ent zones. These varieties are the most manifested : 1. 
 In their form of body. 2. In their capacity for endurance. 
 3. In the varieties of temperament. 4. In their intellect- 
 ual, social and moral developments. The most perfect 
 men, those who have swayed the world, have always been 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 5 
 
 found in the northern temperate zone. They have con- 
 trasted strongly with the man of the torrid zone. To the 
 former have belonged strength, deliberation, reflection, a 
 persistency in the pursuit of their objects, a perseverance 
 of effort through all opposing obstacles, and a great coolness 
 and calculation in their loves and hatreds. The latter 
 have possessed less power of endurance ; are quick, hasty 
 and excitable; are less steady and constant in their course; 
 their intellect possesses less of depth, their powers of 
 imagination are larger and more vivid ; their susceptibility 
 to pleasure and pain greater ; and their passions ever liable 
 to burst forth into terrible activity. 
 
 Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle 
 Are emblems of deeds which are done in their clime, 
 Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, 
 Now melt into sadness, now madden to crime, 
 ^Tis the land of the east, ^tis the clime of the sun. 
 
 The soul is there stirred to its inmost depths by its loves 
 and hatreds, and jealousy is a passion of fearful activity. 
 So thoroughly is love there acclimated, that it has the 
 reputation of always and everywhere being a " torrid zone 
 to the human heart." 
 
 2. The climate also exerts an indirect influence, which in 
 the end is perhaps equally important in its results. The 
 colder climate lays upon man the heavy demands of labor. 
 The earth produces less spontaneously than in warmer cli- 
 mates. Men are more under the necessity of attending to 
 seed-time and harvest. The demand for food cannot be 
 satisfied without labor. And food is required to be of a 
 different quality from that which will satisfy in the torrid 
 zone. It must be stronger, more concentrated, possessing 
 in a higher degree those elements that contribute largely 
 to nutrition, growth, and strength. 
 
 Other demands, also, are about equally as imperative. 
 Substantial buildings as a shelter from the cold of winter, 
 and warm clothing as a protection from the inclemencies of 
 
6 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION, 
 
 the weather, imposes the necessity for labor beyond the 
 mere supply of food. Under the pressure of all these de- 
 mands, the internal energies of man's nature are roused 
 into activity. Resistance is to be overcome, obstacles 
 surmounted, the wonder-workings of industry to be exhi- 
 bited, and all these affect the man, his qualities, manners, 
 habitudes, and character. The sterner virtues have their 
 growth or outcrop in the man of the temperate north. The 
 spirit of personal liberty is there nourished. Patriotism 
 prevails, because one's country is there his own by reason 
 of the labor he has expended in its reduction, and his own 
 participation in its institutions. 
 
 Society is greatly influenced by the varying pursuits em- 
 braced in the industrial element. The different kinds of 
 industry exert each a different influence upon man as a social 
 being. The agricultural, the mechanic, and manufacturing, 
 and the commercial, each, obviously surrounds the man 
 with different influences, affecting all his associations, and 
 varying his social manners and customs. In old countries 
 society has been, for ages, in the process of stereotyping; 
 each successive repetition only fixing more permanently the 
 general result. The tendency is to run into a state very 
 greatly resembling that of caste among the eastern nations. 
 The son follows the occupation of the father ; not as in the 
 east from a political and moral necessity, but because such 
 is the usual and customary mode, and selection is made of 
 that in preference to any other. Thus to all appearance he 
 is entirely free, and yet the force of circumstances would 
 hardly permit him to do otherwise. 
 
 This succession of the son to the occupation of the father 
 tends to the perpetuation, in the same classes, of the same 
 forms of society. Each class has, in some respects, its own 
 manners and customs, which run down through generations 
 and centuries with very little variation. 
 
 Society has also been essentially modified by the reli- 
 gious element. This modification has been effected in two 
 ways : 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 7 
 
 1. By its direct effect upon the human soul. Pure religion , 
 in its simplicity and grandeur, and considered as an element 
 of power alone, imparts to the human soul a vitality, an 
 energy, a strength of moral purpose, an ability to do or 
 suffer, which without it would never be possessed or mani- 
 fested. These run into and essentially qualify all that goes 
 to constitute character. They breathe a living power into 
 society itself, and animate its forms as with a new life. 
 
 It is the special province of religion to awake in the silent 
 depths of the soul three wonderful powers : faith, hope, and 
 love ; and these, once in action, and properly directed, exert 
 a transforming influence upon the character. The more 
 strength those three great powers can gather in their legiti- 
 mate exercise upon the deep things of God, the better are 
 they qualified to take hold of earthly objects and push 
 them forward with energy and success. And this they do 
 for the reason, that, once in activity, and their quenchless 
 fires kindled upon the altar of eternal truth, they are 
 likely to carry into all their spheres of action the same 
 power, energy and success. This is strongly exemplified 
 in the history of the English puritans. Stiff and uncourtly 
 in 'their manners; little, if at all, given to mere matters of 
 amusement, regarding society itself rather as a means for 
 the accomplishment of something beyond, than as an 
 end to satisfy by the enjoyment it could bring; they 
 pursued their own aims and ends with directness, per- 
 severance, and success. The high-toned, stern religious 
 character has always displayed itself more or less strongly 
 in the social manners and customs, thus modifying more 
 or less essentially the society of the people. 
 
 2. In the second place, it exerts indirectly a modifying 
 influence upon the character and society by the forms and 
 ceremonies it introduces, by its various rites and observ- 
 ances. The more these are multiplied, and rendered 
 attractive, grand, or imposing, the greater the influence 
 they exert, and the stronger they draw and concentrate 
 upon themselves all the attention and energies of mind 
 
8 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 and soul. Thus the influence of pure religion is little felt 
 in the midst of splendid rites and a gorgeous ceremonial. 
 The soul is entranced and wholly absorbed in these out- 
 ward performances and displays, that are entirely sensuous 
 in all their essential characteristics. Thus society is here 
 modified by the forms, ceremonies, rites and observances 
 introduced by religion. 
 
 Another modifier of society is found in the element of 
 government. The modification here is produced in two 
 ways: 
 
 1. By the greater or less degree of freedom enjoyed by 
 the people. In the same proportion in which civil free- 
 dom is enjoyed will individual dispositions, instincts, pro- 
 pensities and sentiments, exhibit themselves the most 
 unrestrained, and all the forms of society approach nearer 
 to their primitive character. But wherever despotism 
 prevails, whether governmental or religious, its efifect is to 
 repress all those social displays that have anything public 
 in their character. Society bows beneath it, and seeks 
 concealment by withdrawing from the public gaze. 
 
 2. The second modifying influence is exerted in all 
 those governments which are presided over by courts. 
 In such cases, society takes its lead from the examples 
 there exhibited. In the capital and court all the elite of 
 the nation are assembled. Fashion reigns supreme. The 
 laws of etiquette are far more imperativethan those of morals. 
 Society is bl-illiant, its exhibitions highly attractive ; but 
 vice and immorality are too frequently concomitants, and 
 dissipation of every possible character far too universally 
 prevalent. Thus society is splendid, but both corrupt 
 and corrupting ; refining the manners while it deadens the 
 heart ; the air of paradise lying around a pandemonium, 
 and the spirit of love and of beauty hovering around those 
 whose dispositions are often fiend-like in character. 
 
 An artificial and what may perhaps be termed, a highly 
 refined state of society is found in the higher circles in 
 old monarchies, and in those which approach towards the 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 9 
 
 pure aristocratic character. In republics, more especially 
 in those partaking largely of the democratic element, the 
 developments of the social instinct are plainer, more com- 
 mon, more natural. 
 
 Society is also modified by the element of art. The pre- 
 valence in any community of the sesthetic spirit will exercise 
 a great influence in refining, idealizing, and intellectualizing 
 mind and manners. The power of music spell-binds and 
 Boftens the human soul. The drama, in its higher and 
 purer revelations, opens up a thousand sources of social 
 enjoyment. Most of the forms of artistic life are beauti- 
 ful in the contemplation. The sphere of mind is enlarged 
 by the marvels of art that are presented to it. Pleasures, 
 beyond those of mere sense, become the all-engrossing 
 objects of pursuit. Society, as a consequence, is higher, 
 but not always purer in its forms. 
 
 The social instinct is entirely human in its character. 
 The beaver, and some other of the animal species, herd 
 together, but men only associate. A purely gregarious 
 instinct is all that animates or influences the action of 
 animal natures. But in man both the intellectual and 
 moral element prevails, and this places society at an infi- 
 nite remove above the gregarious instinct. 
 
 Society everywhere may be found in its simple element- 
 ary state in the family. There it should be first studied 
 in its primal home. There its power is more felt. The first 
 natural association is that of the two sexes. Then come 
 the other ingredients, the smaller responsibilities, that con- 
 tribute to make up the family. The magic circle finally 
 becomes complete. The paternal, filial, fraternal relations 
 weave around each heart their ever enduring bonds. The 
 family becomes a small community, a little world in minia- 
 ture. Although forming but a single element in a larger 
 societ}^, yet it is complete in itself, and really offers and af- 
 fords far more of social life than is elsewhere to be found. 
 
 The farther back we trace the history of society, the 
 nearer we approach the primitive ages, the more strictly 
 
 VI] 2 
 
10 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 do we find the family containing and limiting within its 
 own circle, all the elements of social life. And the more 
 strict this limitation, the purer have been all the social 
 developments. In the family the tendencies are to virtue ; 
 and society, although homely in its aspect, is honest and 
 truthful in its character. 
 
 But the continuance of the race is conditioned upon 
 passing the family barrier. 'New families must be founded 
 which serve as fresh centres of social life, at the same time 
 that they answer the purpose of connecting links between 
 those older families from which the founders of the new 
 were derived. Thus in early patriarchal times we find 
 an aggregate of families united together, and all looking 
 to one head, the venerable patriarch. This is a widening 
 of the family circle, the creation of a complex family, in 
 which, in some respects, all are members of a single one, 
 while in others it presents the features of families united 
 with families. 
 
 From the family the ascent is extremely natural and easy 
 to the clan, tribe, or horde. As the family is composed 
 of several individuals, so each one of these is made up of 
 several families. Illustrations of these may be found in the 
 Scottish clan, the German tribe, and the Tartar horde. 
 
 As the members of the same family usually bear towards 
 each other strong resemblances in their forms and charac- 
 ters, so the families composing a clan, tribe, or horde, are 
 very like each other in all material respects. Their asso- 
 ciations have always been with each other. They have 
 come up under the same influences, have participated in 
 the same sports, and have mutually moulded and modeled 
 each other's character. 
 
 From the clan, tribe, or horde, another ascent brings us 
 into a larger association. Each one of these uniting 
 together forms a nation or a race of men. Thus we have 
 the German race or races, the Tartar races and others, all 
 having many features in common, and yet with considera- 
 ble diversity among the diflferent tribes or hordes. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 11 
 
 The history of European society could be much more 
 easily studied and written if the original nations and races 
 that compose the present population of Europe had re- 
 mained pure and unmixed to the present time. But that 
 is far from being the fact. Their different migrations and 
 settlements, together with their mixing up with the older 
 population, have, in many, perhaps in most, instances, so 
 intermingled and blended them together, as that the ori- 
 ginal character of each is almost or entirely lost. Scarcely a 
 people now in Europe, unless kept separate by their religion, 
 who do not exhibit a compound, an amalgamation, of seve- 
 ral different nations or peoples. Witness Italy, Spain, and 
 even France and England. 
 
 European society will be best developed under the follow- 
 ing heads : 
 
 I. Society as it existed among the early European races* 
 
 1. The Scandinavian, the Celtic, and the Germanic. 
 
 2. The Slavic. 
 
 3. The Turkish. 
 
 II. Society as it existed in the middle ages, and under 
 the feudal system. 
 
 III. Society as it existed in the age of chivalry. 
 
 ly. Society as it existed in the age of the troubadours. 
 V. Society as it has developed and is developing itself 
 in the different European nations, as : 
 
 1. In the Spanish peninsula. 
 
 2. In the Italian peninsula. 
 
 3. In Switzerland. 
 
 4. Among the Germanic nations. 
 
 5. In France. 
 
 6. Among the Scandinavian nations. 
 
 7. In the British isles. 
 
 I. Society as it existed among the early Euroyean races. 
 
 1. The Scandinavian, the Celtic, and the Germanic; these 
 are all regarded as different branches of the same great 
 family of nations. Original differences, no doubt, existed 
 
12 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in their different developments of social life, and yet the 
 great general features of their character were essentially 
 the same. For all practical purposes, therefore, they may 
 be considered together. 
 
 And here it may be well to inquire, in the first place, if 
 there be any, and what, leading feature in the character 
 of these early peoples ; anything which can be regarded 
 as giving a tone or direction to all their principal move- 
 ments whether indostrial, political, religious or social. 
 And to this it may undoubtedly be answered that the 
 martial or war spirit, with all its usual concomitants, 
 appears to have been the prevailing one through all the 
 early centuries. As occurs among all primitive savage 
 people, a preeminence was only to be gained by personal 
 qualities. The children of the chiefs, and all others, lived 
 together,^ and were brought up under the same influences, 
 until through the exercise of genius or the display of 
 valor, they acquired a superiority. Different tribes were 
 constantly bringing their rivalships and disputes to a bloody 
 arbitrament, and thus opportunities of becoming distin- 
 guished in war were frequently presented. These nations 
 knew no other profession than that of arms. If a tribe 
 happened for some time to languish in ease, its youthful 
 heroes sought out other tribes that were engaged in wars 
 to find opportunities for displaying their valor. 
 
 The German tribes principally carried on their contests 
 on land, while the Saxons, Danes and l!^orwegians, fre- 
 quented the seas, led the roving life of the Vikings, and 
 subsisted upon the fruits of piracy and plunder. All were 
 prodigal of life, enterprising, and emulous of danger. Their 
 prejudices, customs, occupations, amusements, every action 
 of their lives, bore the stamp of the warrior. In times of 
 peace, they had their mock-battles, reviews, tournaments, 
 and wrestling, boxing and racing matches.^ Other times 
 they spent in hunting, public business, drinking and sleep- 
 
 ' Stuart's View, 3. ^ Mallet, 195. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 13 
 
 ing. Even the most warlike, when nothing w^as present to 
 arouse them, passed much of their time in indolence, feast- 
 ing and sleep. 
 
 The chase probably, next to war, engaged the most of 
 their attention. They were also addicted to games of 
 hazard, especially to that of dice, often risking their liberty 
 and persons on the last throw. They were hospitable, 
 warm in their attachments, generous in their sympathies 
 and gifts, adopting heartily the resentments equally as the 
 friendships of their relatives and kindred.^ 
 
 In the food upon which they subsisted there was great 
 simplicity. It consisted principally of wild apples, recently 
 killed venison and curdled milk. They, however, delighted 
 in feasting, when intoxicating liquors were used in excess. 
 The most common of these liquors were beer, mead, or 
 wine, which were drank out of earthen or wooden pitchers, 
 or horns of wild bulls.^ The Germans were accustomed to 
 consult together at the table upon their most important 
 concerns, such as those of peace and war, and the election 
 of their princes. Here also were formed those associations 
 by which solemn obligations were entered into for mutual 
 protection and defense on all occasions, to revenge each 
 other's deaths at the hazard of their own lives. Oaths to 
 this effect were taken and renewed at these festivals. 
 
 The mode of living by these nations was not in cities, or 
 even towns. They could not endure contiguity in their 
 dwellings, the bubbling fountain, the extended plain, or the 
 beautiful grove, presented attractions which the man of 
 simple, natural tastes could not resist. The idea of pro- 
 perty in land had not then been born. About the only 
 product of the earth which they required was corn. 
 
 In their buildings they used neither mortar nor tiles, but 
 only rude materials^ regardless of beauty or proportion. 
 Some spent the winter months in caves, in which they 
 found a retreat from cold.^ 
 
 ' Stuart, 4. . ^ Mallet, 196. ' Tacitus, 545. 
 
14 HISTORY OFCIVILIZATION. 
 
 The clothing worn by the Germans consisted of a loose 
 mantle made fast with a clasp or a thorn. This was their 
 only covering. The rich wore a garment drawn so tight 
 that the form and limbs were clearly disclosed. The 
 skins of wild animals were frequently used for clothing. 
 There was very little distinction in dress between the 
 two sexes. 
 
 Perhaps the strongest contrast that presents between 
 the German and Scandinavian nations, and the southern 
 and eastern nations of the world is to be found in the 
 relations of the sexes, and in the constancy and sterner 
 virtues of their women. Modern civilization owes much, 
 if not all, to the simplicity, purity and virtue exemplified 
 in these relations. 
 
 Monogamy was almost universally practiced among the 
 German and northern nations. The marriage ceremony 
 consisted in little more than an exchange of gifts. The 
 bride brought with her no portion. In the presence of 
 her parents and relations the future husband tendered a 
 dowry, which, if accepted, the match was approved. The 
 presents were substantial, never appealing to female vanity. 
 Oxen, the caparisoned horse, the shield, the spear and the 
 sword, were the articles presented. She, in return, made a 
 j)resent of arms. Thus, in the character of the gifts inter- 
 changed, is furnished the intimation of the kind of relations 
 established. The yoked oxen, the caparisoned horse, the 
 arms, all serve to inculcate the lesson, that the woman 
 is received as a partner in toil and danger, that the arts of 
 peace and the dangers of war are to be enjoyed and dared 
 together. The armor she receives as a sacred treasure 
 to be transmitted to her sons. 
 
 The marriage tie was not contracted while the parties 
 were young and immature. Both parties waited to attain 
 their full growth. The bridegroom must first leave the 
 house of his father, and be invested with arms. Then he 
 became a member of the state, could enter into contracts, 
 and among others, that of marriage. The maturity of the 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 15 
 
 parents afforded a sufficient guaranty of the vigor and 
 strength of constitution of the children. 
 
 Celibacy was regarded as disgraceful, and the aged were 
 honored in proportion to the number and the merits of their 
 descendants.^ The mother was the nurse of her own 
 children. Her companionship with the stronger ^ sex 
 was such among the Germans,^ that she was admitted into 
 their councils, and their consultations on business of state. 
 They were even regarded as prophetesses both among the 
 Germans and Gauls, delivered oracular information, pre- 
 tended to cure the most inveterate maladies, assume 
 whatever shape they pleased, to raise storms, chain up the 
 winds, travel through the air, and perform every function 
 of the fairy art. Thus regard was had both to their ad- 
 monitions and answers. The same feature seems to have 
 prevailed among the Scandinavians. 
 
 The almost constant occupation of the men, either in 
 war or hunting, left to the women the acquisition of some 
 branches of useful knowledge. They studied simples, and 
 the art of healing wounds. They always dressed the 
 wounds of their husbands or lovers. They were also gifted 
 in the art of interpreting dreams, which was of no small 
 consequence in a superstitious age. 
 
 But the purity of life led in the marriage state was of 
 much greater consequence. In the simplicity of their 
 manners was found a preservation against vice more effect- 
 ual than the laws of cultivated states. There were no 
 allurements of public shows and entertainments to^ relax 
 their virtue, no incitements of luxury to inflame their 
 desires and expose them to corruption. 
 
 In some of the German states it was unlawful for a 
 widow to marry a second husband,^ the doctrine being that 
 she must receive one husband, as she had done one body 
 and one life, and could entertain no thoughts or desires 
 beyond him. All such preserved the honors of widowhood 
 
 Stuart, 20. ' ^ Mallett, 200. ^Stuart, 21. 
 
IQ HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 unsullied, and even continued the usage after settlements 
 were made in the Roman provinces. 
 
 Thus marriage was considered as a strict and sacred 
 institution. The fidelity of the married woman, and her 
 constancy of attachment, rarely ever knew any exception. 
 The crime of adultery was seldom heard of, and when it 
 did occur its punishment was severe and immediate,^ and 
 was inflicted by the husband himself. He cut off her hair, 
 which was regarded as a great ornament, divested her of 
 her garments, and, in the presence of her assembled rela- 
 tions, expelled her from his house and whipped her 
 through the whole village. A violation of modesty was 
 never pardoned. Chastity once prostituted was never 
 forgiven. In the absence of it no youth, or beauty, or 
 riches, could ever procure a husband. 
 
 The children were reared up under such circumstances 
 as to give them great physical perfection. They were 
 subjected to no restraint. They ran about naked, and 
 in time grew up to great strength and size. The son of 
 the slave and the cheiftain were brought up together. 
 Until the age of manhood, they passed their days alike, 
 running over the same ground and mixing with the same 
 cattle. 
 
 The laws of hospitality were inviolable among the Ger- 
 mans. The stranger was always welcomed by the master 
 of the house and regaled to the best of his ability.^ If 
 his stock fell short, he conducted his guest to the house of 
 his neighbor, where could be found a more abundant table. 
 E'o invitation was necessary. A cordial reception was 
 always certain, and no distinction was made between an 
 intimate and an entire stranger. Gifts were interchanged, 
 the departing guest receiving as a present, whatever he 
 desired, and the host, in return, expressing his desires with 
 the same freedom. 'No obligation was thought to be con- 
 ferred or incurred in the giving or receiving of presents. 
 
 1 Stuart, 19, 20. ^ Tacitus, 551. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 17 
 
 The first thing on rising in the morning was the bath. 
 The next was their morning meal, which, having com- 
 pleted, they proceeded, completely armed, to dispatch the 
 business of the day. Much of their business was done at 
 their convivial meetings. The reconciliation of enemies, 
 forming of family alliances, election of chiefs, even ques- 
 tions of peace and war, were discussed in their carousing 
 festivals. They maintained that the convivial moment, 
 when the mind was naturally the most open, was the true 
 season for business.^ But on the following day the subject 
 of debate was again taken into consideration, and decided 
 upon ; thus having the benefit of being debated when the 
 mind was warm, and decided when it was cool. 
 
 Their public spectacles had little variety. There seems 
 to have been but one spectacle, and that often repeated at 
 their meetings. This was the dance of a band of young 
 men entirely naked amidst pointed swords and javelins. 
 This performance, by frequent repetition, became an art, 
 which was executed with grace and elegance. It was, 
 however, a voluntary performance, and never done for pay. 
 
 All the German nations were migratory in their cha- 
 racter. The tribe or state would take- possession of a 
 certain tract proportioned to its number of hands, making 
 allotments to individuals according to their rank and dig- 
 nity.^ The land was abundant in quantity and a partition 
 was easily made. The grbund was tilled one year and 
 allowed to lie fallow the next, a sufficient quantity always 
 remaining to supply the demaud for cultivation. 
 
 It only remains to inquire what disposition the Germans 
 and northern nations made of their dead.^ We find at a 
 very early period the practice prevailing among the north- 
 ern nations of burning their dead on funeral piles. The 
 ashes were afterwards collected in an urn, or small stone 
 chest. Over this a low mound not more than a yard high 
 was raised. 
 
 ' Tacitus, 1, 552. ^ Idem, 555. ' Mallet, 20d. 
 VI] 3 
 
18 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Another custom, which also had an early origin, and a 
 very general practice, was that of burial. 
 
 Sometimes the body was merely covered with a rude 
 heap of stones; at others, and more frequently, it was 
 placed in a species of vault formed of loose stones, those 
 outside being laid up in regular order. These are more 
 frequently met with in E"orway, and seem never to have 
 been covered with earth. 
 
 When a person of rank or distinction died, a high 
 mound, generally termed a barrow, was raised over his 
 remains. This barrow burial was very extensive, being not 
 only practiced by the German and Scandinavian nations, 
 but also by several Slavic and Celtic tribes.^ Barrows are 
 traced from the eastern shores of the Black sea through 
 the steppes of Tartary to the wilds of Silesia in a north- 
 easterly direction, while in a north-westerly, they stretch 
 through Russia and northern Germany to Scandinavia 
 and the British islands. They are scarcely to be found in 
 Austria, Bavaria, Wurtemburg, and Baden, very few in 
 Iceland and Norway, more in Denmark, and the most 
 abundant in Sweden. 
 
 But the dead were not allowed to repose alone or un- 
 provided for. The poor deposited with the body some of 
 their most necessary utensils and a little money. With 
 the rich and noble were deposited his arms, his gold and 
 silver, and his war horse. The German in life always 
 prized the most his arms and his horse. These, there- 
 fore, he was the most desirous of taking with him to the 
 spirit land. In addition, his dependents and most par- 
 ticular friends often sacrificed themselves upon his tomb 
 in order to attend his shade to the hall of Valhalla. Those 
 ancient superstitions still retain their hold upon the mind, 
 and the Laplanders, even at the present day, provide their 
 dead with a flint and everything necessary for lighting 
 them along the dark passage through which they are 
 
 Mallet, 213. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 19 
 
 doomed to wander after the soul has become separated 
 from the body.^ Thus almost all nations, in their rudest 
 state, are found to render homage to the great idea of a 
 continued being after death has passed upon all that is 
 mortal. 
 
 2. Society as it exists among the Slavic races. 
 
 These, we have seen, were among the latest born of 
 the European population. The Celtic, Cimbrian, Gothic, 
 and Teutonic, or German races, all preceded them in their 
 entrance upon the continent of Europe. As the Slavic 
 nations were the latest, hitherto considered, in their settle- 
 ment, are the most eastern of the European peoples in 
 their location, and have always maintained relations more 
 or less direct with the eastern world, we may naturally 
 expect to find among them many traits of eastern charac- 
 ter. In fact, very many of their distinguishing character- 
 istics are still Asiatic, although among the higher circles 
 may be found much imported from western Europe. 
 
 All these races are bound together and subject to one 
 political dominion, viz : the Kussian. Along the immense 
 frontiers of the Russian empire are scattered more than a 
 hundred peoples, speaking a hundred different idioms,^ 
 while the Slavonian or Russian race alone, occupying the 
 vast interior, number some fifty million souls. Of these, 
 thirty-six millions inhabiting Great Russia, speak identi- 
 cally the same language, while the dialects of the White 
 Russians and of seven millions of Little Russians is slightly 
 different.^ Among the Great Russians also prevails the 
 most surprising uniformity of manners and customs. 
 
 It is curious to observe here how the patriarchal principle, 
 borrowed from the east, has met and mingled with political 
 principles derived from the west. The social organiza- 
 tion of Russia is a hierarchy, every step resting on some 
 patriarchal power. The first, the commencement, is the 
 
 Mallet, 214. ^ Eclectic, June, 1854, 336. " Idem, 237. 
 
20 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 family, in which the father is the absolute sovereign. 
 Upon his death, the eldest son takes his place, exercising 
 the paternal authority. The family property belongs in 
 common to all the males, the assent of the father, or his 
 representative, being necessary to its disposition.^ This 
 feature alone must prevent the formation of any landed 
 aristocracy. 
 
 IText to the family, we have the village, or township, 
 governed by an elected father, or starost. His power dur- 
 ing the three years for which he is elected, is absolute. 
 AH the inhabited and cultivated lands of the village are 
 held in common as undivided property. The starost 
 divides the fruits or profits of the whole amongst them. 
 
 Again, all these villages, or townships, form the nation, 
 a nation of men equal among themselves, but all equally 
 subject to the chief of the empire and the race, the em- 
 peror, autocrat or czar, whose authority is absolute, 
 while the obedience rendered is patriarchal rather than 
 servile. All the political and social institutions of Eussia 
 are governed by the doctrine of passive obedience, which 
 runs through and pervades all the relations of the people 
 to the state, in domestic life, and even in the avocations of 
 daily business. To enforce this obedience, whether in the 
 army, in the family, among nobles and serfs, resort is had 
 to the cudgel. Everybody beats ; the father his child, the 
 husband his wife, the landlord the peasant, the noble his 
 serf. And yet all this without any breach in the affec- 
 tions, any interruption of friendship, and without the 
 slightest trace of ill-feeling. 
 
 To this law of the cudgel all Russia seems to be turned 
 over except the nobility, and one of their special privileges 
 consists in exemption from it. The nobles, altogether, 
 form a pretty large class of society, and have large posses- 
 sions ; and yet having no corporate existence, or tendency 
 to any common object, they have little esprit du corps, and 
 
 ^Eclectic, June,lS54:, 337. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 21 
 
 do notj as in western Europe, constitute a powerful aristo- 
 cracy. 
 
 One of the peculiarities of Russian society is the serfdom 
 that there so generally prevails. The number of Russian 
 serfs exceeds the whole population of France or Austria,^ 
 and has even been estimated at no less than one-twentieth 
 part of mankind. 
 
 The serf is the absolute property of the master. It is 
 out of this large body that new recruits are obtained for 
 the army, a certain number being drafted for that purpose 
 every year. ISTo serf can obtain or hold property, all their 
 earnings legally belonging to the master. His body is 
 subject to the master's caprice, and the use of the cudgel 
 or whip is universal. Even the virtue of the female serf 
 is wholly within the master's power. In regard to popular 
 education, there are, in the four great metropolitan districts 
 of St. Petersburgh, Kieff, Moscow and Curan, one hundred 
 and ninety parochial schools, containing in all seventeen 
 thousand ^yq hundred and eighty students. While Russia 
 contains so small a number of students, she contains no 
 less than one hundred and thirty-four thousand five hun- 
 dred and seventy-eight priests and monks. 
 
 The charge has been made against Russia that " she 
 draws her strength from the resources not of civilization, 
 but of barbarism ; possessing among her higher classes 
 just as much knowledge of European arts and civilization 
 as is necessary to destroy them ; ^ and in her lower orders 
 a state of ignorance so dense, and of opinions so degraded 
 as to find in a single man their lawgiver, their sovereign, 
 and almost their God." 
 
 The Russians possess some extent of imitative skill, but 
 the imitation is rather of results than of the power that pro- 
 duces them. Before the reign of Peter I, almost every- 
 thing in Russia was Asiatic in its character. He imported 
 from Europe sulficient civilization to gild the edges of 
 society, and perhaps some portion of its surface, but the 
 
 ' EcUcUg, June, 1854, 239. ^ Idem, 341. 
 
22 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 close observer could still detect, beneath, all this, evident 
 traces of the Tartar horde, the low moral level of a half 
 savage people, and many manners and customs indicating 
 the small advance that has yet ^been made in any of the 
 higher arts of life. 
 
 There is no doubt very great diversity in social life in 
 Russia. The variation in climate alone, if no other cause 
 existed, would go far to produce such a result. The popu- 
 lar ideas as to the climate, the habits, and customs of the 
 people are chiefly limited to the capital and the northern 
 part of Russia. But as regards a large portion of Russia, 
 especially the European part of it, it lies under a southern 
 sun, the heat being almost as insupportable as that of the 
 tropics, and the character of the people so influenced by 
 it, as that their manners are soft, luxurious and free, and 
 just as open to sensuous enjoyments as those residing in the 
 south of France, or even in the Italian peninsula. 
 
 Another cause having a strong operation is the civil 
 condition of Russia. There not only fails to be a homoge- 
 neous people through her vast empire, but even among those 
 who are, the civil distinctions are such as to create almost 
 as many causes of separation as if they belonged to differ- 
 ent races and countries. The eastern doctrine of castes, 
 although not in form introduced into Russia, is yet, to a 
 large extent felt, and its disadvantages realized through 
 the Russian dominions. There we have the nobility, the 
 middle classes, and the peasantry including serfs. 
 
 The Russian nobles live in towns, and although many 
 of them have country residences, yet they seldom frequent 
 them except for a few weeks in the summer. They have 
 no special reverence for patrimonial property, and hence, 
 there is among them no stability of territorial possession. 
 The neglect of the rule of primogeniture, and the adoption 
 in its place of the rule of equal division of property 
 among all the sons of the family, prevents the continuation 
 of estates in the same family. A large fortune there 
 rarely ever descends to the third generation. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 23 
 
 The Russian nobles are notoriously extravagant ; culti- 
 vating expensive and often v^asteful habits. These, taken 
 in connection with the removal of all barriers to the trans- 
 fer oi property by sale or mortgage, lead to the frequent 
 result that they ruin themselves and come to utter desti- 
 tution. 
 
 The Russian peasants, although not possessing the same 
 muscular strength as many other people, are, nevertheless, 
 seldom outdone in their power of endurance and support 
 of fatigue. The Russian soldier is probably called upon to 
 endure greater hardships in his long and painful marches, 
 in his rigid discipline, his hard fare, and the severe cor- 
 poral punishments to which he is subjected,^ than almost 
 any other human being. Living upon dry biscuit he may 
 be compelled to traverse desert steppes in which there is 
 no water, or to winter in subterranean huts in which 
 there is no fire. So also the amount of punishment 
 undergone by a criminal often almost exceeds belief. 
 Their strength and power are passive rather than active, 
 and consist more in endurance than in the production of 
 positive results. 
 
 An accurate idea of the Russians generally cannot well 
 be obtained without adverting to the difference between 
 the Great and Little Russians. The latter are the more 
 ancient, retaining their national physiognomy, being dis- 
 tinguished by their finer features, dark and hazel eyes,^ 
 loftier stature, and more harmonious language. The 
 former have red or yellow hair, coarser features, ^nd a 
 more stupid expression of countenance. They are selfish, 
 cunning and avaricious, resorting more to the chicanery of 
 trade, less conscientious and more punic in their dealings. 
 The Little Russians are more indolent, confiding and 
 generous, caring little for the future, never laboring except 
 from necessity, and trusting their affairs to the manage- 
 ment of others. 
 
 Malte Brun, vi, 581. ' Idem, 580. 
 
24 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 There is much variety in the characteristic traits of the 
 Eussians, but most of them have white teeth, small and 
 dull eyes/ a narrow forehead, and a strong beard. ^ The 
 hair has various shades of color from dark chestnut to 
 red. The Eussians have quick ears, and what many would 
 not be led to expect, are alive to the power of music. 
 The national music of Eussia is possessed of much origin- 
 ality and beauty. Their popular songs are pervaded with 
 a plaintive melancholy; full of images borrowed from 
 nature ; and mingled with superstitious ideas, and breath- 
 ings of tender sentiment. Like most other primitive 
 people their conceptions are linked with external nature. 
 They abound in comparisons and symbols. The nighting- 
 gale and cuckoo, for instance, are the compassionate birds 
 that answer to their griefs. The swallow bears their 
 messages.^ The rainbow rising over a dwelling indicates 
 the habitation of a betrothed. The moon hides itself 
 for sorrow at the death of the emperor. The field over 
 which enemies have passed bears bitter herbs. The warrior 
 is a falcon, the girl a swan. The flowing tears are rivers, 
 the falling, simply dews. They have songs for love, for 
 war, for festivals, and occasions of family rejoicing. Songs 
 for many of the callings and pursuits of life, both innocent 
 and criminal. The following, for example, is the song of 
 the robber.^ 
 
 " Make no sound, my little green forest ; my mother, do 
 not disturb my thoughts ; for on the morrow I must go to 
 answer before that terrible judge, even before the tsar him- 
 self. 
 
 " The tsar will address himself to me, and he will say. 
 Answer, answer, my child, son of the peasant, with whom 
 hast thou taken up the life of a robber ? Hast thou many 
 companions ? 
 
 " I will answer, tsar, my hope, tsar, very Christian, I will 
 show thee all the truth. Of comrades I had four : the first 
 
 ^MalteBTun,Yi,^%'^. ^ Bdectic, for October, 1855, 812. ^ Idem, 12. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 25 
 
 was the dark night, the second was my sharp blade, the 
 third my good horse, the fourth my well strung bow. My 
 messengers were the barbed arrows, hardened at the fire. 
 
 " Then the tsar, my hope, the tsar, very Christian, will say 
 to me, ' Honor be to thee, my son, who knowest so well 
 how to steal and how to speak ; for thy reward I will make 
 thee a fair present, I will give thee a palace in the middle 
 of the fields, two stakes and a hempen cord.' " 
 
 The Eussians are generally very superstitious, their su- 
 perstitions mingling with all their family rejoicings,^ and 
 religious practices, in the daily habits of private life, and in 
 all situations of an extraordinary character. They believe 
 in sorcery and witchcraft, in the influence of a legion of su- 
 pernatural beings, and in the virtue of various talismans 
 and conjurations. 
 
 Their religious songs are possessed of great interest. In 
 one of them to the book of the dove, the holy gospel, the 
 tsar asks : 
 
 " Whence come light, the beautiful sun, and the young 
 moon ? Whence come the multitudes of stars, the dark 
 nights, the purple dawns, the rushing winds ? Whence 
 comes human reason ? From where do our thoughts reach 
 us ? Whence come our people, our hard bones, our body, 
 and our blood ? " 
 
 The book answers : 
 
 " The white light comes from God, the beautiful sun 
 from the face of God, the young moon from his bosom, the 
 myriads of stars are his garments, the dark nights are the 
 eyelids of the Lord, the purple dawns are his glances, the 
 strons: winds are his breath. Reason comes from Christ, 
 
 from Christ the tsar of the skies ; thoughts come from the 
 clouds of the sky, people from Adam, had bones from stone, 
 the body from soft earth, the blood from the dark sea." 
 
 All these and such like songs are recited by poor 
 blind people from door to door ; by aged people to their 
 
 "^ Eclectic for October, 1855, 816. 
 VI] 4 
 
26 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 families assembled round the stove in the long northern 
 winter evenings ; by the young men at the festivals ; every 
 little circumstance in public or private life affording an 
 opportunity for their use. They are everywhere entwined 
 around the heart of the people. 
 
 A strong passion for song prevails among the peasantry,^ 
 who often join to very fine voices remarkable executive 
 powers. It is not unusual with them to engage in contests 
 for supremacy in this exquisite art, and on such occasions, 
 the power of music, and the secret charm it exerts upon 
 the soul, are most fully displayed. 
 
 The Eussian women, even in the northern part of Eussia, 
 present one anomalous fact in the early period at which 
 they mature. They are marriageable at the age of twelve 
 or thirteen,^ in this respect almost rivaling India. This 
 premature development, however, is upon much the same 
 principle as that invoked in the case of the hot-house plant, 
 the severe climate being counteracted by_ keeping them 
 during the winter months in apartments heated by a stove 
 to a vast degree, and then exposing them to the two or 
 three summer months of burning heat. Superadded to this 
 is the use made of the warm or vapor baths. The conse- 
 quences of this premature development are, that the firm- 
 ness and elasticity of flesh so essential to constitute beauty 
 are wanting; and also that premature development is ne- 
 cessarily succeeded by premature decay. The charms of 
 youth soon disappear, while the indications of old age are 
 early exhibited. There are, however, some other causes, 
 aside from those just enumerated, which may conduce to 
 this result. The principal of these are the immoderate 
 use of rouge or paint, and the savage treatment they ex- 
 perience from their husbands. In this latter respect the 
 Slavonic present a marked contrast with the Teutonic 
 races. The lower classes of females, more especially, are 
 in Eussia, doomed to a life of incessant labor and hardship. 
 
 Eclectic, October, 1854, 238. "" Malte Brun, vi, 582. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 27 
 
 Although they cannot be said to desire beatings and stripes 
 for their own sake, or as special tokens of affection from 
 their husbands, yet one thing seems certain, that when a 
 man ceases to beat his wife it is a sure indication either that 
 he has given her up as incorrigible, or that he has so wholly 
 attached himself to other women as to relinquish all con- 
 cern about her,^ and his domestic affairs. The wife of a 
 Russian may, therefore, rest assured that her husband no 
 longer loves her when he refrains from chastising her. 
 
 The ceremonies, both of marriage and of burial, have 
 some variety, and undoubtedly differ, to some extent, at 
 different periods of time. In regard to the former it has 
 generally been customary for two families to settle an 
 alliance before the parties have ever seen each other. 
 
 Before the match is finally agreed upon, the bride is 
 critically examined by a council of elderly matrons, with 
 the view of discovering whether any bodily defects exist, 
 and if so,^ to determine if possible and prescribe what will 
 remedy them.^ The bride on her wedding day is crowned 
 with a garland of wormwood, to imply the bitterness of the 
 married state. When the marriage ceremony by the priest 
 at the altar is concluded, the clerk or sexton sprinkles on her 
 head a handful of hops, expressing, at the same time, a wish 
 that she may prove to be as fruitful as that plant. The cus- 
 tom has been in some places observed for the bridegroom 
 to desire the bride to pull off one of his buskins, informing 
 her that one of them contains a whip, and the other a jewel 
 or a purse of money. She takes her choice. If she finds 
 the purse, she interprets it as a good omen ; but if the whip, 
 it is regarded as an unhappy presage, and she immediately 
 receives the lash as a specimen of what she is to expect. 
 
 After the decease of a person, the first care is to close 
 the eyes and mouth, and the next is to lay out the body 
 and to wash it with water, after which, the priest is sent 
 for, who prays over the corpse, purifies it with incense, and 
 
 Meiners, i, 160, ^ Marriage Bites, 98, 99. ^Malte Brun, vi, 583. 
 
28 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 sprinkles it wifli lioly water until it is consigned to the 
 dust.^ He writes a passport for heaven, which is signed 
 by the bishop, and if he be absent, by some other dignitary. 
 The paper is put into the bier between the hands of the 
 deceased. The last ceremony is the kiss given by the 
 priests first, and then by the relations and friends ; some 
 kissing the body and some the coffin. The lowering of 
 the coffin into the grave is the signal for loud cries and 
 horrid yells. The attendants then return to the house of 
 the deceased and greatly mitigate, or wholly drown, their 
 excessive grief at a great feast, which, by the higher orders, 
 is kept up for some forty days. But during all this period 
 pf festivity the priest is delivering prayers over the grave ; 
 the dead, it is imagined, being consoled by these exorcisms, 
 are enabled to arrive with less fatigue at the end of their 
 long journey. 
 
 In Russia, a dismal lent is succeeded by the great festival 
 of the resurrection. The sudden advent of this festival 
 drowns the fasting and mourning in mirth and amusement. 
 The large bells, for which the Russians seem to have a 
 special passion, and which are the largest and deepest toned 
 in the world, ring out their solemn peal in sounds resem- 
 bling the rolling of distant thunder, while the brilliant glare 
 of many thousand wax lights, and the dazzling splendor of 
 the clerical costume add to the novelty of the scene. Every- 
 where joy reigns supreme, and the loud cry of Chrisios 
 voskress, Christ is resuscitated, resounds throughout the 
 empire. 
 
 In the Russian costume there is great variety. The pea- 
 sants in Great Russia, in the winter, wear sheepskins de- 
 scending to the middle of the leg, with cloth stockings and 
 bark shoes, a round hat in summer, and a fur cap in winter. 
 What would appear singular in so cold a climate, the neck 
 is always bare, but it seems not to be unfavorable to 
 health. 
 
 ^Malte Brun, vi, 583. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 29 
 
 The dress of women is considerably various, but the most 
 costly ornaments are reserved for the head. A band 
 adorned with pearls, or precious stones of different colors, 
 and resembling a tiara, or open crown, is worn about 'No- 
 vogorod, while the peasant girls in the western provinces 
 wear a fillet studded with paste or mock pearl. A bonnet 
 rising perpendicularly m the form of a crescent, prevails 
 in Oka and the neighborhood of Kasimow. In Little 
 Eussia, nets, ribbons and flowers are bound round the head, 
 a chain is suspended from the neck, and red boots are worn 
 upon the feet. 
 
 The houses of the peasants are all built on substantially 
 the same plan. The inner court forms an oblong, and is 
 surrounded by sheds, a hay loft being erected at one ex- 
 tremity, with a kitchen garden extending beyond it. The 
 building materials are trees, laid horizontally above 
 each other, the interstices being filled with moss. The fa- 
 mily chamber is on the second story, the ascent to which is 
 by a stair or ladder. A fourth part of the room is taken up 
 by a stove. 
 
 The furniture is made up principally of wooden wares 
 and earthen pots, a wretched bed or pallet, with many 
 figures of the saints. 
 
 The Russian villages are generally composed of one street 
 with houses on each side. Their length is sometimes very 
 considerable. All the houses have the same shelving 
 roofs projecting considerably beyond the body of the house, 
 and the same fagade rising in a cone towards the top. 
 The villages belonging to the emperor look much better 
 than those which belong to the nobility. 
 
 One remarkable custom of the Russians is deserving of 
 notice, and that is their use of baths. It is customary 
 with the Russians of all ranks to use the steam bath at 
 least once a week. There are no public baths except in 
 cities; but in villages every family have their own small 
 baths, which are constructed at some distance behind their 
 houses, to prevent accidents from fire. 
 
30 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The public baths in cities are situated upon the banks 
 of rivers, from which they receive their supplies of water 
 by means of swing buckets. Each public bath is divided 
 into two partitions, one for the men and boys, the other 
 for the women and girls. The bathing rooms are heated 
 by ovens, the temperature often rising as high as from 104° 
 to 120° of Fahrenheit. The cavities of the ovens are filled 
 with iron balls or stones, which are heated to a red heat, 
 and upon which every ^Ye minutes water is thrown in 
 order to fill the bathing room with steam. By this means 
 the temperature is occasionally raised as high as 131°. The 
 bather lies upon an elevated bench some six or seven feet 
 from the floor, and two or three feet from the ceiling, 
 where the steam and heat are most concentrated. There 
 he is soaped and rubbed with bundles of birch twigs with 
 their leaves on. Many persons on quitting the bath plunge 
 into the adjoining river, or even roll in the snow when the 
 thermometer is 10° below zero. How this may be done 
 consistent with health it is hardly possible to determine, un- 
 less we suppose that the functions of the system become so 
 intensified in their action through the effect of the heat 
 and friction, that the sudden change to the cold water or 
 snow, is scarcely, if at all, perceptible. 
 
 The Russians in their industry have not even yet arrived 
 at the principle of the division of labor.^ Different arts are 
 exercised by the same individual. In Moscow and other 
 large towns will be found that curiosity, the house market. 
 This is held in a large square in the suburbs, where a vari- 
 ety of materials for building, and houses wholly made of 
 wood, are usually exhibited. The purchaser has only to re- 
 pair to the spot, examine the quality of the wood, state how 
 many rooms are required, and conclude the bargain. The 
 seller removes and raises the building on the spot desig- 
 nated by the purchaser. Thus a house may be purchased, 
 transported, erected and inhabited all within a single week. 
 
 Malte Brun, vi, 589. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 31 
 
 Such dwellings, however, are not durable, seldom lasting 
 much time, and easily demolished in a few hours. The 
 Eussian villages are generally composed of wooden dwell- 
 ings, and hence when a fire occurs it is very destructive. 
 
 Another curiosity in the way of market is that of frozen 
 provisions. Soon after the commencement of winter, the 
 farmers kill their cattle, pigs, and poultry, all which they 
 subject to the freezing process. The same also applies to 
 fish and game. All these frozen carcases are poured into 
 St. Petersburgh. They are brought from the Frozen ocean 
 on the north, and from the borders of the Caspian sea 
 on the south. The great market opens just before 'the 
 Christmas holidays ; it covers several acres of ground, and 
 from the piles of animals, birds and fish, with their several 
 skins, feathers and scales on, presents altogether a most 
 ludicrous appearance. The average price is about thirty 
 per cent cheaper than if killed fresh, and is about equally 
 as good. 
 
 Another assemblage sometimes met with in Russia is the 
 village council. This is an assembling together of the 
 elders and inhabitants on certain occasions, such as levying 
 recruits among the young men of the village, regulating 
 the taxes payable to the landlord, and such like matters. 
 The meeting is called the peace meeting, and is held in the 
 high street of the village. The oldest man presides, and is 
 distinguished from the rest by a white wand fresh cut from 
 the hedge, and stripped of its bark. He selects his locus 
 standi close by a new laid cow's dung, and sticks the lower 
 point of his wand into it. Then the council are in readi- 
 ness for the transaction of business. 
 
 The Russians have many amusements. Among these 
 are swings which are made to turn upon a cylinder between 
 two pillars. Eight poles are fixed crossways in the cylinder, 
 between each pair of which is fixed a seat for tw^o persons. 
 These poles are turned round either by men or machinery. 
 Another species of swing is turned round horizontally upon 
 a cylinder which stands upright in the centre. These, to- 
 
32 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 gether with booths of strolling players, tumblers, exhibitions 
 of wild beasts, the dress carriages and gay liveries of court, 
 nobility and gentry, form a great part of the amusement 
 of the Easter week. 
 
 We have before noticed the strong love for music which 
 animates even the Russian peasantry. There is a curious 
 kind of music, or rather musical instrument, which seems to 
 be peculiar to Russia. This is horn music, and the instru- 
 ment a horn. It is a perfect living organ, where avery pipe 
 or tone is sounded by one man, who cannot produce 
 any other but that one individual tone on his horn. A 
 complete band of horn musicians consists of near forty per- 
 formers, never less than twenty-five, who sound the com- 
 pletest symphonies of every kind with admirable skill and 
 accuracy. 
 
 The Russians have boxing matches, which they perform 
 with large stiff leather mittens. They appear to fight 
 without guarding the body, and aim their blows at ran- 
 dom, ^ot unfrequently a considerable number fight on 
 each side, and it often proves fatal to some one or more of 
 the party. 
 
 Another amusement of which the Russians are extremely 
 fond is the horse race. Many keep race horses which 
 they run both on wagers and for pleasure on the ice of the 
 river I^eva. A place opposite the imperial palace is railed 
 in for the purposes of these races. It presents a splendid 
 scene, and is attended by crowds of spectators on foot, in 
 coaches, and sledges, more especially on Sundays and holi- 
 days. 
 
 There is also on Sundays and holidays a village amuse- 
 ment consisting of a dance by the village girls. They 
 appear dressed in their best apparel, in which there is 
 displayed great taste, and amuse themselves and others by 
 joining in a dance much resembling that called thread the 
 needle. N"o one, however, but the village girls unite in it, 
 and it is always accompanied with singing by every one of 
 the company, as well as by the dancers themselves. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 33 
 
 Another kind of exercise in wMcli the men only partici- 
 pate is wrestling. Here, in common with the same thing 
 among other people, the effort is to give their adversary a 
 fall with as much dexterity as they are masters of. The 
 difference in the mode is, that the Russians hold by the 
 sash they constantly wear round their waists. 
 
 The swing is also enjoyed in Russia. Generally a lad 
 and lass stand at each end of the swinging board, striving 
 alternately who can give it the highest pitch. The rest of 
 the company sit on the board, and a song encourages and 
 adds to the enjoyment. 
 
 The usual dance of the Russians is a mimical represent- 
 ation of courtship. The dancer, by his steps and gestures, 
 appears to court his mistress, who after many windings and 
 turnings, and marks of refusal and disdain, at last relents, 
 and joins with him in a merry dance called the golubetz, 
 which concludes the scene. 
 
 Another species of amusement, much enjoyed in Russia, 
 is sliding down ice hills. Villagers, and especially their 
 children, imitate the great towns, by smoothing the decli- 
 vity of a small hillock, or making an artificial one, and 
 pouring water upon it, to give it a crust of ice, from which 
 they slide down on small wooden sledges. 
 
 But in St. Petersburgh the ice hills are built on a mag- 
 nificent scale. The ice is smoothed very carefully in a 
 straight line about one hundred fathoms long and twenty 
 feet wide. At the end of this sliding place another hill of 
 the same size is built, from which the sliding place runs 
 parallel again with the other. Guides are appointed at 
 each hill, who sit upon small sledges of wood, about eigh- 
 teen inches long, eight or ten inches broad, and a few inches 
 high, with iron shoes or skates under them on each side. 
 The person desiring to slide sits upon the lap of the guide 
 with his legs close together between those of the guide, 
 who shoves himself forward with his hands to the brink of 
 the precipice, from which he rushes down with great 
 velocity to the end of the sliding place. 
 
 VI] 5 
 
34 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Another exercise is jumping on a board. This is usually 
 the amusement of two girls, who balance aboard on a few 
 billets or stones, and by degrees suffer themselves to be 
 thrown up to an extraordinary height, by the elasticity and 
 spring of the board. To attain any proficiency requires 
 great courage and skill. It is also not unattended with 
 danger, for were the board to swing horizontally, or the 
 performers not to fall perpendicularly, a broken leg might 
 easily be the result. 
 
 The old women in Russia are much respected, and have 
 great confidence reposed in them by the younger ones. 
 All negotiations of marriage in the villages are carried on 
 through their medium, and a young man as soon as his 
 affections have centered in their object applies to one of 
 these, either of his own acquaintance, or one who may 
 be recommended to him by her skill in conducting these 
 delicate affairs. Some of them are much esteemed for 
 their supposed power of divination, and are applied to 
 in all cases of losses to point out the means of repos- 
 session. They also act as midwives among the Russian 
 peasantry. 
 
 The married women in Russia are easily known by the 
 care they take to hide their hair under the coif or cap 
 which they wear on their heads. The immediate change 
 that takes place on entering the marriage state, in the 
 whole of their exterior, is very striking, for as they marry 
 very young, you often see a giddy young girl of twelve or 
 thirteen, assuming all the serious formality of the steady 
 matron of sixty. They bring up their children with great 
 hardiness, suffering them to be always in the air, and ex- 
 posed to the severest weather, with no other clothing, per- 
 haps, than a little linen shirt hardly reaching to the knees, _ 
 and yet slight as this is, such is the force of habit, that 
 they never feel any inconvenience from it. They are 
 hospitable, good managers in their domestic concerns, 
 watchful for their husband's interest, and frugal even to 
 parsimomy, yet extremely fond of show and ostentation, 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 35 
 
 sometimes expending on an entertainment more than would 
 keep them and their families decently for half a year. 
 
 The clothing of the common Russians is still the old 
 ^national dress which is probably best adapted to the exi- 
 gences of the climate. It consists of a long coat reaching 
 to the calves of the legs, sitting close to the body, with a 
 great number of gathers at the bottom of the waist, and 
 lapping over the bosom. About his middle he ties a sash, 
 in which he tucks his gloves, whip or axe. His neck is 
 entirely bare even in winter, and his lower garment consists 
 of wide linen trowsers. He wears no stockings, but wrap- 
 ping his feet in linen rags, draws on his boots, which are 
 at times exchanged for shoes of matted linden bark or 
 leather, with neither buckles or ties. The covering of his 
 head is a very deep crowned hat with a narrow brim, which 
 he exchanges in winter for a cap, and his coat for a sheep- 
 skin pelisse, which he also girds about him with a sash. 
 
 The Russian plough is truly primitive in its character, 
 being little other than a crooked stick with which he 
 merely rakes the surface of the earth. But notwithstand- 
 ing the rudeness of this, and all his other implements, he 
 generally reaps good harvests, and grows excellent corn 
 and grain. 
 
 The mode of living among the Russians particularly in 
 their villages, is that all the family, men, women and 
 children, live together in one room, which serves for their 
 kitchen, dining room and bed-chamber. A broad wooden 
 bench runs along two sides of the room, in the form of 
 a Greek r, in the angle of which stands a large wooden 
 table for the family. The opposite corner of the room is 
 occupied by a large oven, in which they cook their victuals. 
 The top of it is flat, and serves in lieu of bedstead for all 
 the family. 
 
 Thus we have endeavored to depict some of the pecu- 
 liarities of home life in Russia. Very much it will be 
 seen still remains to bring them up to the European level 
 of civilization. Long and intimate communication with 
 
36 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the other nations of Europe, aided by the naturally imita- 
 tive character of the Slavonian mind, will undoubtedly, in 
 the course of time, work great changes in the manners, 
 customs, pastimes, and general society of Eussia. i 
 
 3. Society as it exists among the Turks. The Turks 
 were the latest of all the races that have entered upon the 
 possession of any part of Europe. Their early origin is 
 involved in much obscurity. Those who succeeded in es- 
 tablishing themselves in Europe were termed Osmanli, or 
 Ottoman Turks, from Othman, or Osman, their founder. 
 They belonged originally to the great Turkish family of 
 nations, many of which, at various times, passed over the 
 Oxus into Khorasan, and from thence advanced gradually 
 westward into the countries lying on the western side of 
 the Euphrates and Mount Taurus. Their entrance into 
 Europe was signalized by the taking of Constantinople by 
 Mahomet II in 1453, and the establishment of their domi- 
 nion upon the ruins of the Greek empire. A little over 
 four centuries have elapsed since these nomades have held 
 dominion on the banks of the Bosphorus, and, by their 
 possession of Constantinople, controlled the gateway 
 between Europe and Asia. This dominion presents, much 
 more effectually than Eussia, the introduction of Asia into 
 Europe. The Slavonian races, although Asiatic in their 
 original cast of character, were, nevertheless, so constituted, 
 especially in the higher circles of their court and nobility, as 
 to become gradually the recipients of a European civiliza- 
 tion. But the Turks being originally a horde of nomadic 
 wanderers, professing the Mahometan religion, and with 
 manners, customs, and everything of the social character, 
 quite unlike, if not entirely the reverse, of everything Eu- 
 ropean, have found all assimilation to European manners, 
 customs, and social forms, extremely difficult, if not utterly 
 impossible. Hence, perhaps, the Turkish can be hardly 
 considered as constituting an element in European society, 
 and yet it may be interesting, if for no other purpose than 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 37 
 
 by way of contrast, to bring these last intruders into 
 Europe very briefly under review. 
 
 And here the first obvious remark is that the doctrine 
 of contraries which we shall find so generally to prevail, 
 is evidenced even in their political relations with the other 
 powers of Europe. On their first advent, and for several 
 generations succeeding the establishment of their dominion 
 in Europe, those powers strongly desired, and as far as 
 possible exerted themselves to dislodge them from Europe, 
 and send them back into Asia. But for several generations 
 past, the idea has been constantly gaining strength, that the 
 mutual jealousy and rivalry between Great Britain and 
 Russia has been such that the other European powers have 
 felt the political necessity of continuing the Turks in Eu- 
 rope, in order to preserve the peace of the continent. The 
 moment the balance of power was endangered or destroyed 
 by the fall of the crescent and expulsion of the Turks, that 
 moment would commence the contest between Great Bri- 
 tian and Russia, for the dominion of the Bosphorus and 
 Black sea, which would not probably cease within a long 
 period of years. 
 
 The Turk, in his exterior, bears little resemblance to 
 the Mongol, but differs little from other Tartar nations 
 except in a nearer assimilation to the Indo-European races. 
 They are described as a large, well formed, robust, fine look- 
 ing race of men, seldom below middle size, with lofty fore- 
 heads, dark eyes, often a noble physiognomy, a tawny com- 
 plexion, with black or dark brown hair, ^ot unfrequently 
 the Arab, Grecian, Persian and Circassian blood may flow in 
 the veins of an Ottoman, and to this crossing of races and 
 mingling of bloods may be largely attributed the fine 
 physical forms so frequently met in Turkey. 
 
 The delightful climate, and the richness of the soil, make 
 slight demands upon labor for the supply of the necessa- 
 ries, and many of the luxuries of life. The Turk is no 
 plodding laborer. His house is built with small reference to 
 the rules of architecture ; his gardens laid out without order 
 
38 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 or taste ; and his furniture simple, and adapted rather to 
 the habits of a vagrant people, than to the usages of settled 
 life. In their meals they are extremely frugal; their food 
 consisting principally of rice, which they dress in a variety 
 of ways. Their principal drink is coffee, of which they 
 consume large quantities. Their religion wisely prohibits 
 the use of wine or strong drink, but this injunction, 
 although exercising considerable influence, is not strictly 
 obeyed. 
 
 The dress of the Turks is remarkably free from ligatures. 
 They confine neither the neck nor waist, wrist, knees or 
 feet. The garments they wear are loose and flowing. 
 Although they may prove an encumbrance in quick 
 motion, yet they sit easily and gracefully upon them when 
 walking with their usual gravity, or reclining on the sofa 
 or divan. The lower parts of the body are covered with 
 wide drawers, or trowsers. On the upper parts is worn a 
 a kind of wide vest bound with a sash, and over all a long 
 flowing gown. Slippers, instead of shoes, cover the feet, 
 and on the head is very uniformly worn a turban. 
 
 The female dress, like that of the meu, consists of long, 
 loose flowing robes, differing not materially from it in 
 form. Instead of the turban, the head is very often covered 
 with a stiff kind of cap. Another indispensable part of a 
 female dress when she appears abroad is a veil, which 
 operates as a complete disguise. 
 
 The art of bathing has attained great perfection in 
 Turkey. The public baths are elegant and noble struc- 
 tures, built with hewn stones, having in them several apart- 
 ments, the entrance being a spacious and lofty hall, round 
 the sides of which are high and broad benches, on which 
 are arranged mattrasses and cushions. The inner cham- 
 bers are capacious, and paved with slabs of the rarest and 
 most beautiful marble. In these rooms the body and limbs 
 are thoroughly cleansed by means of friction with a horse 
 hair bag, and washed and rubbed with a lather of perfumed 
 soap. Those describing the luxuries of an oriental bath, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 39 
 
 say that a very comfortable sensation is communicated 
 during the continuance in the heated rooms, and that it is 
 heightened into luxury when the bather reposes himself on 
 a couch after the ablution. This species of delicious re- 
 pose, however, has many charms for a Turk and an 
 oriental, which a European would fail to appreciate. The 
 latter delights in action, while to the former every custom 
 invites to repose, and every object inspires an indolent 
 voluptuousness. Their earthly paradise is well nigh being 
 attained, when they can recline on soft verdure beneath the 
 shade of trees, musing without any fixedness of attention, 
 lulled into a half unconscious state by the tinkling of a 
 fountain or the murmuring of a rivulet, at the same time 
 inhaling lazily through their pipe a gentle inebriating vapor. 
 The Turk derives a positive pleasure from the abandon- 
 ment of his organization to those physical influences which 
 in that mild climate and delightful atmosphere, are natur- 
 ally exerted upon it. 
 
 Besides the bathing, the Turks make frequent ablutions. 
 Their religion imposes upon them the necessity of washing 
 their arms, legs and necks from three to -^ye times a day in 
 cold water. This is done generally at the fountains before 
 the mosques, and by this means they protect themselves 
 against catarrhal aflections.^ By their frequent use of the 
 bath, cold and vapor, they also escape many disorders. 
 The formidable diseases of gout, rheumatism, head-ache, 
 and consumption are unknown in Turkey. 
 
 Smoking is a luxury in which the Turks almost uni- 
 formly indulge themselves. It is a custom, all but universal, 
 even in the Turkish harem. The length of the pipe, ac- 
 cording to the dignity of the smoker, is often six or seven 
 feet, being sometimes carried by two servants, the bowl 
 being supported by wheels. 
 
 To enjoy inebriation without having recourse to liquors, 
 which their religion prohibits, they resort to opium. This 
 
 ' 8lacl6, 1, 17^. 
 
40 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 is not in as extensive use now as formerly. The object 
 of it is to excite the imagination, to act vividly in the crea- 
 tion of pleasing images. In all the large cities of Turkey 
 coffee houses are constantly open, where may be at any 
 time procured both coffee and opium. 
 
 In a Turkish house there are no chambers exclusively 
 appropriated as bed-rooms. Every room in it serves for 
 every purpose, and the furniture in all differs only in 
 fineness of quality or richness of ornament. The sofa or 
 divan extends around three sides of the chamber, on a 
 frame raised a few inches from the floor. The use of chairs 
 and tables is almost unknown. 
 
 The dinner is served up on a large circular tray of cop- 
 per placed on a low stool at a corner of the sofa, around 
 which the guests are arranged sitting cross-legged. In- 
 stead of a table cloth a long napkin is spread over the 
 knees of the guests. They make no use of plates, nor 
 even of knives and forks. The chief of the family serveg 
 himself with the fingers of his right hand, and invites the 
 company to follow his example. 
 
 The Turk is in almost all things the antipode of the 
 Frank, the term which in Turkey designates a European. 
 He has also many seeming contradictions with himself. 
 He is fond of riding, and has no roads, and of visiting his 
 friends in state, but has no carriage. His streets are 
 neither named nor numbered. Having few formalities he 
 is quick in business, although slow in his movements. 
 He veils and imprisons his wives, and yet on certain occa- 
 sions allows them to go where they please unaccompanied. 
 
 In Turkey, superiors salute inferiors. When a present 
 is given, instead of the receiver thanking the giver, the 
 giver thanks the receiver.' A guest invited to dinner is 
 thanked for coming. While the Frank uncovers his head 
 as a mark of respect, the Turk, for a similar manifestation,^ 
 takes off his shoes. In speech he uses few words, seldom 
 
 ' Eclectic, August, 1856, 457. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 41 
 
 exaggerating, but he delights in listening to long stories, 
 and the most improbable freaks of the imagination. As 
 he is a firm believer in fate and destiny, he suffers evils 
 uncomplainingly. He has a great contempt for ancestry, 
 and yet surrenders his life up cheerfully at the demand 
 of the sultan, who is regarded as the descendant of the 
 prophet. 
 
 The following curious practical differences have been 
 noticed. The Turkish barber pushes the razor from him 
 in shaving; the Frank draws it to him. The Turkish 
 carpenter draws the saw to him, for all the teeth are set 
 in ; the Frank pushes it from him, for all the teeth are set 
 out. The Turkish mason sits while he lays the stones; 
 the Frank always stands. The Turkish scribe writes on his 
 hand from right to left; the Frank on a desk or table from 
 left to right. The Frank begins at the bottom of a frame 
 house and finishes to the top ; The Turk at the top and 
 finishes to the bottom. The Frank wife often brings a 
 dowry to her husband ; the Turkish husband pays a sum 
 of money to her parents for his wife. 
 
 Marriage with the Turks is viewed in the light of a civil 
 contract. It states with great particularity the dowry to 
 be settled on the wife in case she survived her husband 
 or be divorced. If she brings any property it also states 
 that which at her death or separation must be fully 
 restored. The parties rarely see each other until the 
 contract is completed. The wedding lasts four days, from 
 Monday morning until the evening of Thursday. The wed- 
 ding festivities in the houses of both parents are kept up by 
 the men and women separate.^ They consist principally in 
 banquets, the intervals being filled up with coffee, sherbet, 
 confectionery, perfumes, and pipes. A grave hilarity 
 presides over these meetings, which are enlivened at times 
 by bands of jugglers and story-tellers. The ceremonies on 
 each one of the four days are different. At their conclusion 
 
 ^Eclectic for November, 1855, 973. 
 VI] 6 
 
42 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the husband is at liberty to lift the mysterious veil, and the 
 parties, probably for the first time, behold each other. 
 
 Polygamy is. practiced among the Turks. The laws of 
 Mahomet allow a man to have four wives, and as many 
 concubines as he can afford to maintain. Practically, how- 
 ever, examples of polygamy are quite uncommon. The 
 Turk has no money-making genius, and this is too expen- 
 sive a luxury. The law obliges the man who marries 
 several wives to give each a separate apartment with every 
 thing proportioned to his means,^ and also to the family of 
 his wife. He must also separately endow each, and keep 
 up separate establishments throughout, as to suites of apart- 
 ments, furniture, servants, etc. It is, therefore, only the 
 great and wealthy who can think of enjoying so great a 
 luxury. 
 
 The wife is bound to pay to the husband implicit obe- 
 dience, to remain standing in his presence, and to serve 
 him at table. But in return she enjoys a sovereign rule in 
 the harem. She there has the management of the house- 
 hold, brings up the children, and superintends the servants 
 and slaves. 
 
 The married women in Turkey lead very monotonous 
 lives within the harem, arising from the difficulty of filling 
 up their leisure hours. They do not read, are poor musi- 
 cians, and have little inclination for needle-work. Their 
 time is principally spent in dressing, bathing, visiting, and 
 playing at school girl's games. 
 
 The Turk through the day conducts himself with great 
 gravity in all his movements. Slow, solemn, taciturn, he 
 appears in all things a man of destiny. With stolid indif- 
 ference he awaits the occurring of events, and then, what- 
 ever their character, renders praise to Alia. But when he 
 returns to his harem at the close of the day, he throws off 
 his* deep-toned solemnity. The orgies of the evening in 
 most harems are conducted with all the levity of licentious- 
 
 ^ Eclectic, November, 1855, 972 . 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 43 
 
 ness, and the gravity of the Moslems totally disappears ; 
 their roars of laughter are to be heard in the adjoining 
 houses.^ So far is this carried that in the opinion of some 
 the gravity of the Turk during the day is only the exhaus- 
 tion of his spirits from previous excitement. 
 
 II. Society as it existed in the Middle Ages, and under the 
 Feudal System, 
 
 We have taken a rapid glance at the Teutonic nations in 
 their primitive seats, and the manners and customs by 
 which they were distinguished. In their migrations and 
 settlements in the more western and southern provinces 
 wrested from the Eoman empire at least three effects fol- 
 lowed having a bearing upon domestic life and manners. 
 These were : 
 
 1. The intermixtures that occurred between the new in- 
 vading races, and the original population which had for 
 long periods of time filled the provinces. That old popu- 
 lation, although far more refined and highly civilized, so 
 far as related to matters of intellect and of taste, were never- 
 theless depraved in morals, having a blunted or vitiated 
 conscientiousness, seeking after physical pleasures and 
 enjoyments without much regard to the means by which 
 they were to be secured. A disregard of right, annihilation 
 of female virtue, and the exercise of refined cruelty, often 
 marked their course of conduct. These could not but 
 exercise a corrupting influence upon the less refined but, 
 in some respects, more virtuous barbarians, inferior as they 
 most palpably were to the conquered in all the arts of life. 
 
 2. The conversion of these races to the Christian reli- 
 gion. Although the change from paganism to Christianity 
 worked its effect upon several of the great elements of 
 character, yet the identity of the individual, psychological 
 as well as physical, was preserved ; and hence the roughness, 
 
 ^ Bell's OeograpTiy, 11, 507. 
 
44 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 harshness, warlike tendencies, propensity to action and en- 
 joyment, which had previously so marked the character still 
 continued to exert their influence. Peculiar individual 
 idiosyncrasies still remained in full force. When the 
 heart of Clovis, the founder of the Frank or French king- 
 dom, was warmed up by the story of the cross and the 
 crucifixion, it was only a characteristic outburst when he 
 said " Had I been there with my valiant Franks we should 
 have been amply avenged." ITotwithstanding, therefore, 
 the work of grace upon the heart, there was undoubtedly 
 much of harshness and severity, much even of violence 
 and disorder, during the dark ages. Still the influence of 
 religion was undoubtedly restraining and salutary. 
 
 3. The change in occupation that occurred on the settle- 
 ment in the Roman provinces. Previous to that, as we 
 have already seen, the German nations were made up of 
 tribes dwelling in dense forests, and subsisting mainly 
 upon the products of hunting and fishing, together with 
 what they derived from their flocks and herds. The cul- 
 tivation of the earth was accounted disgraceful, and en- 
 tirely unworthy of freemen. To such belonged the higher, 
 more exciting and glorious occupations of the chase and of 
 war. The more ignoble pursuits of common industry 
 were assigned to women, to children, and to the aged. 
 
 But when the soil of the Roman provinces came to be 
 parceled out among the invading tribes, and individuals 
 became the owners of landed property, the pursuits of 
 agriculture assumed an importance until then unknown. 
 They found already a high state of cultivation in the pro- 
 vinces, and to take possession of cultivated farms, without 
 continuing to cultivate them, seemed to be unreasonable 
 and inexpedient. Hence men began to turn their atten- 
 tion more and more to agricultural pursuits and to cul- 
 tivate the lands they had conquered and were obliged 
 to defend. The occupations of the men in pushing forward 
 the pursuits of agriculture, in undertaking the various 
 labors of the field, naturally led to confiding to women the 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 45 
 
 superintendence of all their domestic concerns, and tlie 
 education of their children. To them belonged the economy 
 of the fireside, and the performance of all those domestic 
 duties, which resulted in rendering the wife and mother 
 the centre of so many interesting relations. 
 
 This change in the industrial habits and pursuits of the 
 people led, of course, to changes in manners and customs, 
 forms of intercourse, and modes of life. These, however, 
 were all modified by the introduction and action of a new 
 system to which the exigences of the times gave birth, 
 and which has exerted no small amount of influence upon 
 all subsequent history. This was the feudal system, which, 
 in its bearings upon the element of government, has already 
 been considered. But its bearings on society still remain 
 for our consideration. 
 
 In order to understand properly the foundations from 
 which the society of western and southern Europe took its 
 rise it should be remembered that, prior to the conquest, 
 the great proprietors of the Gallo-Eoman population lived 
 either in cities, or in beautiful and expensive houses in 
 the neighborhood of cities,^ or in rich plains upon the 
 banks of rivers. In the country districts were dispersed 
 the villse, which were great buildings serving for the im- 
 provement of estates, and also for the dwelling of the 
 laborers or serfs, who cultivated them. 
 
 All these were inviting prizes for the conquering Ger- 
 man. He had emerged from his native forests, and the 
 wonderful products of civilization filled him with astonish- 
 ment, and animated him with the wish to become their 
 possessor. He accordingly established himself in the 
 habitations of the old Roman proprietors, whether in the 
 cities, or in the villse in the country. The latter were 
 undoubtedly more agreeable, as they were more in con- 
 formity with his previous habits.^ Accordingly the villse 
 continued to remain almost the same after, as before, the 
 
 ^ Guizot, III, 398. '' Idem, 398. 
 
46 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 barbarian invasion. They were so many centres of improve- 
 meDt and habitation of great domains. They presented 
 the singular fact of buildings scattered throughout the coun- 
 try districts, where Germans and Romans, conquerors and 
 conquered, masters, free men, laborers and slaves all lived 
 together. 
 
 But notwithstanding this continued uniformity in appear- 
 ance, causes were in operation which in time wrought 
 great changes. E'othing was permanent or stable. New 
 invasions succeeded. Those behind continued to press 
 onward, and coveted as much the products of civilization 
 as their predecessors. Hence violence, disorder, pillage, 
 and bloodshed, kept on their course with little, if any, 
 interruption. 
 
 This compelled the first invaders to resort to the arts of 
 defense. These were rendered necessary more as a protec- 
 tion against new invaders than the original inhabitants. 
 The villye, therefore, ceased to present its former peaceful 
 aspect. It presented the insignia of war. It became 
 girded by moats and ramparts, and the appearances of 
 defense and of fortification everywhere presented them- 
 selves. 
 
 Another result followed. The universal prevalence of 
 disorders, and the constant necessity of facing dangers, led 
 to a searching out of places of strength and security. The 
 plains, readily accessible to invaders, were, in many in- 
 stances, abandoned,^ while a more secure refuge was 
 sought in the heights and in places which were very difiS.- 
 CLilt of access. These were surrounded by fortifications, in 
 order to secure a more complete protection. 
 
 Thus the heights, and places of difficult access, more and 
 more bristled with castles, whose turrets, and ramparts, and 
 moats, and drawbridges, with other means of defense, were 
 fast overspreading the land, after the reign of Charlemagne 
 and during the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 
 
 ^ Guizot, III, 3^ 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 47 
 
 Beneath, and around, lay the feudal village, protected by 
 the castle, but composed of a very different order of people. 
 "We have already seen the political relations established 
 between the two, and the nature of the political bond con- 
 necting the suzerain with his vassal. But the political was 
 the only bond that bound the one to the other. In society 
 they were almost as widely separated from each other, as 
 if the castle and feudal village had been located on differ- 
 ent planets. 
 
 Thus the castle, although surrounded with different 
 forms of life, was, nevertheless, in a state of social isolation. 
 No foot ever pressed its draw-bridge to cross its moat 
 except upon the performance of a great number of formal- 
 ities, that were deemed necessary to insure its safety, l^ot- 
 withstanding this state of isolation in which the castle 
 existed, we must enter it and inquire into the social life 
 which is led there. 
 
 The first thing that strikes us upon our entrance is the little 
 there is to do within.^ Its lordly possessor has no round 
 of duties to perform, no regular occupations, nothing 
 affording permanent employment. His fields were im- 
 proved by his vassals, and hence nothing of an agricultural 
 nature could occupy his attention. He could hunt as a 
 pastime, but no necessity was imposed upon him to hunt 
 as a means of living. 'No industrial pursuit of any kind 
 pressed upon him. N'either was he subjected to any 
 political activity. Lord only of a small domain, he was 
 comparatively a king without subjects, a sovereign with- 
 out strength; and yet possessed of tendencies to action 
 intensified by the peculiarities of his circumstances and 
 situation. 
 
 A being thus constituted could not be expected to find 
 in mere domestic life all that the cravings of his more 
 active nature demanded. Hence he spent much of his 
 time abroad in search of adventures. Something of ro- 
 
 ' Guizot, m, 407, 408. 
 
48 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 mance mingled itself with, scenes and events around which 
 lingered many a stern reality. It is to this that much of 
 the tangled webb of history, during this era, owes its 
 origin, interest, and importance! Robbery, rapine, vio- 
 lence, bloodshed, in all their various forms, attest the 
 pressure of those fierce and ever restless activities, that 
 finally found their culminating point in the Crusades, 
 precipitating Europe upon Asia in several successive ill- 
 directed but terrible invasions. 
 
 And yet the feudal chieftain, however given to violence, 
 however earnestly seeking after adventures, could not 
 abandon his castle, his home. Thither he was forced to 
 return, if for no other purpose, for that of defending it. 
 The more he waged warfare against others, the stronger 
 the necessity imposed upon him to defend his own. His 
 castle once taken his empire was overturned, and himself 
 sent abroad a wanderer. 
 
 Certain home necessities, therefore, grew out of its own 
 temporary abandonments, but we should undoubtedly do 
 the feudal chieftain great injustice by denying to other 
 causes their reasonable share of influence. The roughness 
 of his nature, as evidenced by its outward manifestations, 
 was not always steeled against those inward feelings which 
 claim and will find in every human bosom a lodgment 
 and a j)Ower. 
 
 His castle was not alone a thing to be defended, thus 
 linking him with the warfares of his age. It was not 
 alone his resort in times of peril. It was over, and be- 
 yond all these a home; where the treasures of his heart 
 were garnered up ; where his wife and children were 
 ever ready to welcome his return, to rejoice in his tri- 
 umphs, to share in his perils, to soothe him in times 
 of trouble, and, by their social qualities, and ever ready 
 appliances, to renovate, refit, and restore him to scenes in 
 which he delighted to participate. Society during that 
 period which was strictly feudal, was limited almost to the 
 domestic circle ; the greater the limitation, the more intense 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 49 
 
 the action of the social affections upon their respective 
 objects. It results from all this, that we find amid the 
 disturbances, perils, and desolations that characterized the 
 feudal period and the sources from which are derived 
 the development of that simple element, so important in 
 the formation of society, the family. The suzerain could not 
 regard his vassals as socially his equals. This was rendered 
 impossible by their political relations. But his wife and 
 children presented higher claims. They were not his vas- 
 sals, owed him no fealty, were so many parts of himself. 
 They were socially his equals, and that sense of social equal 
 ity produced its animating and elevating effect upon the 
 wife and children, and thus, in its turn, rendered them 
 more worthy that equality. 
 
 Another general fact is also worthy an attentive con- 
 sideration. In the absence of the suzerain from his castle 
 in his huntings, wars, and search after adventures, the wife 
 was naturally, and almost necessarily, his representative. 
 To her belonged its defense if besieged in his absence. Its 
 safety until his return rested upon her discretion and valor. 
 Whatever of action was required to be done during his 
 absence devolved upon her. She stood in his place, and 
 acted in his stead. The exigences of such a position, and 
 the necessity of being called upon to act under such circum- 
 stances, not only exercised a powerful effect in developing 
 the mind of woman, but also served to elevate her in the 
 estimation of the sterner sex. Equality was much more 
 readily conceded where the pressure of equal duties was 
 felt, and at times actually experienced. 
 
 Another fact of importance has its bearing upon the 
 children. Here was a fief, an inheritance to descend. 
 This required an heir, or heirs ; and the feudal policy de- 
 termined that the first-born should inherit. This right of 
 inheritance embraced not only the property, but along with 
 it the political power which was incidental to it, and which 
 properly constituted feudalism. Where the rights of pro- 
 perty and of sovereignty were to become united in the same 
 
 VI] 7 
 
50 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 heir, it was important that his education and training should 
 be such as to fit him for the judicious exercise of such high 
 powers. Hence that other element of a family besides the 
 wife, viz: children, especially the first-born son, grew in im- 
 portance and came to demand a large share of attention. 
 This brought with it a strong feeling for posterity ; a de- 
 sire to render the coming generation competent to fulfill the 
 trusts which the course of events would inevitably devolve 
 upon it. 
 
 The most important customs, peculiarly constituting the 
 feudal system, have already had their consideration under 
 the element of government. As we there found that system 
 to be the matrix in which originated, and in some degree, 
 were shaped those struggling forces, that subsequently 
 achieved their enfranchisement, and became the funda- 
 mental animating principles in the different governments 
 of Europe, so we find it here, also, performing the same im- 
 portant function in presenting to the European world that 
 nucleus around which all society gathers, that element so 
 essential to its existence in any, and all its forms, the 
 family. We shall have occasion, presently, to consider 
 some peculiar institutions, the outgrowths of the feudal 
 system, which have exercised a great and permanent influ- 
 ence i:fpon society; but, before proceeding to their consider- 
 ation, we will notice some of the social results which have 
 flowed from the operation of that system. 
 
 One of these was to give the land owner a superior social 
 position to that occupied by men equally rich in other 
 kinds of property. This naturally arose from the fact 
 that land was the only species of property originally that 
 conferred upon its owner political power. Hence the 
 deep rooted prejudice in the minds of men all over west- 
 ern Europe, of the comparatively greater value and im- 
 portance of the landed interest. With that interest, nobility, 
 the offspring of feudalism, allied itself, and hence rank 
 has stepped in to add to its importance, and to surround 
 it with greater attractions. The merchant, or even the 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 51 
 
 professional man, although possessed of vastly more wealth 
 than the landed proprietor, could never attain the political 
 or social position of the latter. That alone, of all the 
 different species of property, down to the present time, has 
 continued to senii its representatives to constitute a co- 
 ordinate branch of the British parliament. 
 
 Another result intimately connected with that last men- 
 tioned, is to be found in the origin given by it to the 
 nobility or privileged classes. These are the direct and 
 natural outgrowth of the feudal system. That system by 
 giving origin to special privileges, such as were not, and 
 could not, be enjoyed by the common people; and su- 
 peradding to that their perpetuation by descent in the 
 families in which they were enjoyed, easily and naturally 
 led to the establishment of the n obility. The feudal suzerain 
 of the tenth and eleventh centuries, exercising his baronial 
 powers, partly political, partly proprietary, over the 
 vassals of his fief, became easily metamorphosed into the 
 noble of the fifteenth and subsequent centuries, retaining 
 all his proprietary rights, but yielding up his political to 
 the stronger demand for a more centralized form of go- 
 vernment. In exchange, however, for this loss of political 
 power he acquired a social position and standing, which, 
 in connection with an advancing civilization, was a more 
 than compensation. 
 
 Some of the social peculiarities attending the nobility 
 are among the legitimate outgrowths of the feudal system. 
 One of these has been already alluded to, the perpetuation 
 of landed estates, and the privileges thereby conferred. 
 Another is to be found in the greater warlike propen- 
 sities and proclivities of the nobles. They were naturally 
 the foremost in all military enterprises. Their education 
 partook of a military character. The arts of peace, espe- 
 cially in the early ages of their existence, were held in 
 little estimation by them. Mercantile occupations were 
 everywhere, except in England, regarded as unbecoming 
 a gentleman ; and even there men of rank have seldom 
 
52 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ever engaged in them. When an old French noble desired 
 to embark in trade to make money, he gave up his sword, 
 the emblem of his nobility, until he laid aside the merchant 
 to resume again the noble.^ So far has this been carried 
 that in some countries, lawyers, and in many, physicians, 
 are not, at the present day, admitted into the highest 
 society; nor were they formerly in England except in par- 
 ticular cases. 
 
 The class of nobles throughout almost all Europe, in virtue 
 of their special privileges and exemptions, of their some- 
 what peculiar proprietary rights, of their remnants, in many, 
 of political power, of their habits of association with each 
 other and the exclusion from their society of the common 
 people have formed a species of caste, although not with 
 lines of demarkation so strongly and so exclusively drawn 
 as in the eastern countries. Still, so far as society is con- 
 cerned, it has not fallen very far short of it. 
 
 Another result is in the sentiment, veneration for the past, 
 which was a proper outgrowth of the feudal system. This 
 has had no small influence upon European civilization. 
 Antiquity of family ; the possession of ancient castles ; old 
 and well settled customs and usages ; even ideas and notions 
 that had floated down from generation to generation, until 
 they became, in a manner, fixed in the minds of men; all 
 acquired that sacred and venerable character that secured 
 for them the highest amount of consideration. All these 
 served as links to connect the present with the past and 
 the future, and so to bind the future to the past as to pre- 
 vent the race from becoming too progressive, and to insure 
 to it an unfailing identity. 
 
 This, it is true, had its evils. It often hallowed abuses, and 
 consecrated customs, usages and ideas, which the advancing 
 spirit of the age had outgrown. It became a great con- 
 servative principle, which, as far as its influence was felt, 
 operated to resist all change, to destroy all progress, and 
 
 ^Brougham, 319. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 53 
 
 to tie Europe down to a changeless, moveless, statu quo. 
 This feature of conservatism in all the elements of civiliza- 
 tion, and especially the social, has greatly affected the 
 destiny of Europe, and presented a great point of distinc- 
 tion between the peoples of the old and the new world. 
 And yet, although adverse to progress, its operation has, 
 undoubtedly, been beneficial. It has kept back a too rapid 
 advancement; prevented frequent and premature changes, 
 and held the hearts and minds of men firmly fixed in 
 willing loyalty to social customs and habits, processes of 
 activity, and even to methods of thought and modes of de- 
 velopment, until all the principles involved had been fully 
 brought out, thoroughly tested, and all the possible appli- 
 cations of them made. Thus, although the race may not 
 have ran so fast, or developed so much within a given period 
 of time, yet it has been constantly acquiring strength 
 in its progress, and thus preparing itself for a longer and a 
 stronger run, and a more full and perfect development 
 of all the principles that are embraced in the elements of 
 its civilization. 
 
 Another result is the sense or feeling of superiority pos- 
 sessed by the privileged class, and of inferiority by the lower 
 classes. This has probably worked greater effects in the 
 social than in any other element. It was another neces- 
 sary outgrowth of the feudal system. Such a sense, or 
 feeling could not but originate in the privileges and ex- 
 emptions of the one, and the exclusion of the other. This 
 worked both a bad and a good effect in society. The bad 
 was the habit it engendered of looking up to rank and sta- 
 tion; of confounding them with merit; of being overawed 
 in the presence of nobles ; and of being led to regard them 
 as a superior race of men.^ On the one hand it produced 
 meanness, subserviency, and timidity. On the other, pride, 
 insolence, and arrogance. " Persons of rank regarded all 
 beneath them as of an inferior nature; while persons of 
 
 ^Brougham, 317. 
 
54 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 none looked up to their superiors as more than ordinary 
 mortals." These feelings have penetrated and pervaded, 
 more or less thoroughly, all ranks and grades of society in 
 Europe ; and everywhere worked out their legitimate re- 
 sults, which have been antisocial, inharmonious, and, in 
 the highest degree, prejudicial. 
 
 The other, and good effect, is found in the fact that it 
 did produce a considerable influence in softening the man- 
 ners of the age. Despotic governments are marked by great 
 politeness and i^efinement of manners.^ Where fear per- 
 vades all hearts and minds, habits of restraint are easily ac- 
 quired, and the rougher exhibitions of human nature are not 
 suffered to exhibit themselves. In the circles first of the 
 feudal lord, and of the subsequent noble, all were under the 
 influence of some restraint, and hence the softening of man- 
 ners and the originating among the common people of 
 customs and usages less gross and revolting. 
 
 Another result, or outgrowth of the feudal system, is to 
 be found in the habits of fidelity which were formed under 
 it. " The relation of lord and vassal taught to the one party 
 the duty of protecting the weak, and to the other that of 
 repaying protection with allegiance." ^ In the previous 
 history of the world not only had been manifested cruelty 
 and oppression, but also treachery, frequently in its most 
 repulsive forms. In grand contrast with all previous forms 
 of government, the feudal system rested its very existence 
 upon the exercise of good faith between man and man. 
 The feudal lord imposed upon himself the duty of protec- 
 tion, and the vassal that of obedience. The one was the 
 condition of the other, and good faith the essential bond of 
 both. To this principle, thus implanted, we undoubtedly 
 stand largely indebted for the elevated tone of moral feel- 
 ing in modern times, which has operated to refine the sen- 
 timents of men and to implant in them a strong sense of 
 personal honor. This also, together with the warlike ten- 
 
 ^ Brougham, 321. ^ Idem, 324. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 55 
 
 dencies of the age, the disorders of the times, the protection 
 of the weak against the strong, and the feeling of gallantry 
 that began to actuate the stronger sex, gave birth to the 
 institution of chivalry, and to the manners and customs of 
 that peculiar age. 
 
 III. Society as it existed in the Age of Chivalry. 
 
 The curious institution of chivalry has been reserved to 
 this time and place because it belongs more strictly to 
 society than to any other element. In its origin, however, 
 it had little to do with anything merely social. It was an 
 outgrowth from early Teutonic customs, modified by the 
 feudal system. 
 
 The early customs of the German nations forbade any 
 one to bear arms unless duly admitted to that privilege. 
 As the road to honor lay only through the use of arms, 
 such use was considered too important a privilege to be 
 left to chance or the choice of the individual himself The 
 mode of admission was to assemble the council of the dis- 
 trict to which the candidate belonged. His age and quali- 
 fications were then inquired into, and the council decided 
 upon the application.^ If the decision was in favor of his 
 admission to the privileges of a soldier or chieftain, the 
 father, or some one of his kindred adorned him with the 
 shield and the lance. This act was equivalent to a removal 
 from mere domestic concerns, the offices of the family 
 and a dedication of him to the public. Henceforth, he 
 belonged to his tribe, and could participate in its wars, 
 its customs and its pastimes. In this simple ceremony is 
 discovered much of what subsequently constituted the 
 feudal investiture. 
 
 In confirmation of this, it is worthy of remark that the 
 institution itself in its perfection, and all its glory and 
 extravagances, existed only among the German tribes, or 
 
 ^StuartA'^. 
 
5Q HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 those in which they so largely mingled as to impregnate 
 them with the Teutonic spirit. In Italy, for example, where 
 a different civilization already prevailed, modifying essen- 
 tially that spirit when it was introduced, chivalry was never 
 fully developed. It had, however, a large theatre upon 
 which it displayed itself with varying degrees of power. 
 Germany, the Scandinavian nations, England, France and 
 Spain, all witnessed its exhibitions and felt its effects. 
 
 The more direct and immediate origin of chivalry may 
 probably be traced to the feudal system. That system 
 we have seen to be one of isolation, at least in its origin. 
 The castle sat frowning upon its solitary crag with few 
 immates except the family, the wife and children of the 
 suzerain. The more wealthy of that class, those having 
 large domains, soon became desirous of making the castle 
 the home of a more extended society, and of one too whose 
 tastes were more in harmony with their own. Hence the 
 habit of having constantly about them numbers of Retain- 
 ers, whose relations with the suzerain were more social 
 than feudal. These were made up very generally of ambi- 
 tious young men, often the sons of their vassals, who were 
 always ready for the feast and festival, and also to do and 
 dare whatever their superior chose to direct. The vassal, 
 it is true, owed his military services to his suzerain when 
 called upon, but the necessity of devotion to agriculture 
 soon made him a better farmer than soldier, the cultivation 
 of excellence in each being in the inverse ratio to each 
 other. That change was progressing in society which by 
 slow but sure degrees separates from each other the great 
 departments of human effort, making the farmer and the 
 soldier two distinct beings. The one cultivated his farm, 
 the other frequented the castle. 
 
 Arriving at the end of the tenth, or the middle of the 
 eleventh century, we find the castle of the great suzerains 
 the home of quite a busy population. A little court there 
 sits and dispenses justice. A train of officers there present 
 themselves. The count of the palace, the seneschal, the mar- 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 57 
 
 ehal, the cup-bearers,^ chamberlains, butlers, porters, falcon- 
 ers, etc., were borrowed from the empire; and in addition 
 there were pages, varlets, grooms, and squires of the body, 
 the chamber, the stable, the pantry, etc., all offices of newer 
 creation. These offices were most of them given in fief, like 
 lands, thus carrying the feudal principle into the very bosom 
 of domestic life. This implies, of course, that those upon 
 whom they are bestowed are freemen, otherwise there 
 would be no power to consent to receive the fiefs and un- 
 dertake to perform the conditions upon which they were 
 bestowed. The sons of their vassals were those who were 
 the more generally the recipients of these gifts. By these 
 means the large landed proprietors, ecclesiastics as well as 
 laymen, surrounded themselves with a numerous train. 
 
 This originated the same contest in the bosom of the 
 castle as we have seen going on in the feudal village, without, 
 viz : that in relation to inheritance, the son claiming by in- 
 heritance the office of the father, and the suzerain insisting 
 that it was simply a life estate. The result was that although 
 in some few cases they became hereditary, yet the instances 
 are of much more unfrequent occurrence than in the case 
 of landed fiefs. 
 
 The result of all these facts was, that, the castle becoming 
 the theatre of so many attractions, it became a very desir- 
 able object for the more ambitious sons of the vassals to 
 become its inmates, and to hold its offices. A new tie was 
 thus created between the suzerain and the vassal, and this 
 was of a continuance corresponding with that of the new 
 relations that had grown up between the former and the son 
 of the latter. 
 
 Having shown in what manner the castle naturally 
 became the resort of ambitious young men desirous of 
 devoting themselves to the interests of its proprietor, and 
 to carve out their own fortunes through his infiuence, no- 
 thing now remained but the resuscitation of an old German 
 
 Guizot, IV, 11. 
 YI] 
 
58 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 usage to produce in its original form, the knight of 
 chivalry. That was the custom before alluded to, of ad- 
 mitting the young man to the privilege of bearing arms. 
 This custom followed the German, and was perpetuated 
 upon the Eoman territory after the invasion. An illustrious 
 instance of this occurred at Eatisbon, in 791, when Charle- 
 magne solemnly (in the language of the old chronicler), 
 girt the sword about his son Louis le Debonaire; and 
 another in 838 when the latter conferred the same honor,^ 
 with the same solemnity, upon his son Charles le Chauve. 
 In the eleventh century, in the feudal castle, when the son 
 of the lord arrived at the age of manhood, the same cere- 
 mony was performed. The sword was girded on, and the 
 son declared admitted to the rank of warrior. 
 
 E"or was it upon the son of the suzerain alone that this 
 honor was conferred. The sons of his vassals who were the 
 frequenters of the castle, enjoying its privileges, and perhaps 
 holding its offices, were also eligible to the same distinction. 
 The ceremony was performed in the court of the castle, 
 which in this respect replaced the council of the district. 
 
 The result of this ceremony was the same as among the 
 ancient Germans. By delivering to the aspirant the arms 
 and titles of the warlike life, it was an admission to the 
 rank and honors of warriors. 
 
 All this, it is true, creates no strictly feudal tie between 
 the suzerain and the recipient of the privilege. IsTo obli- 
 gation of protection on the one hand, or of obedience on the 
 other, flows from it. And yet the suzerain, in arming a 
 young man knight, accepted him, in a manner, for his 
 man,^ and declared that he should one day be his vassal. 
 It was like an investiture given in advance, anticipating, 
 in the future, the creation of feudal homage. 
 
 Thus we have the origin of chivalry, but it was only the 
 origin. "We have the admission to the rank of warrior, 
 but only to a general, not a special one. It required other 
 
 ^ Guizot, IV, 16. "" Idem, 17. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 59 
 
 influences, feelings and facts, to develop fully this peculiar 
 institution. 
 
 It owed its origin entirely to the military spirit ; but, 
 once in existence, " religion and imagination, the church 
 and poetry, took possession of it, and made it a powerful 
 means of attaining the ends which they pursued, and of ful- 
 filhng the moral needs which it was their mission to 
 satisfy." Society also came in with its claim, and de- 
 manded the employment of its agency, in the advancement 
 of itself Thus chivalry, fully developed, will be found 
 to embrace the following elements of character : 1. The 
 warlike spirit. 2. A lofty devotion to the female sex. 3. 
 An undefinable thirst for glory, connected with feudal in- 
 dependence. 4. Elevation above the drudgery of daily toil. 
 5. An uniformity of character and purpose inspired by the 
 influence of a common religion. From the great import- 
 ance possessed by these elements of character, it is obvious 
 that the education of the future knight could not well be 
 neglected. 
 
 One of the great beauties of chivalry was its accessi- 
 bility. Every descendant of a gentleman, every free born 
 person, could bear arms and aspire to knighthood ; but a 
 train of services was required to fit him for acting in that 
 capacity. From an early period in his life, he was an 
 inmate of the castle, and an attendant upon the court of 
 his lord. Here he was supposed to learn all the knightly 
 virtues : " The emulation of his equals, the example and 
 admonitions of his chief, and the company of the ladies, 
 from whose number he was to select the accomplished fair 
 one, to whom he was to ascribe all his sentiments and his 
 actions, inflamed in him the passion for war, infused into 
 his mind a zeal for religion, and instructed him in all the 
 arts of a respectful gallantry." ^ From performing domes- 
 tic duties, he was called to the management of horses and 
 of armor. 
 
 ^atuart, 57. 
 
60 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The character, or station, which preceded knighthood, 
 was that of armor bearer.^ The candidate for chivalry 
 had formerly been a page or valet ; but these terms were 
 not then, as now, expressive of meanness and low condi- 
 tion. 
 
 The age of knighthood probably varied with the nature 
 and weight of the arms which were in use at different 
 periods. That of twenty-one years has in general been 
 fixed upon, but it admitted of easy departure, in favor of 
 signal merit or high birth. The novitiate commenced in 
 the seventh year ; an early period to direct attention to the 
 art of war, the mistress, or catechism. 
 
 When the time of knighting arrived, the candidate was 
 first bathed, as a symbol of purification. He was then 
 clothed: 1st. In a white tunic, a symbol of purity. 2d. In 
 a red robe, a symbol of the blood he was bound to shed 
 in the service of the faith.^ 3d. In a saga, or close black 
 coat, a symbol of the death which awaited him in common 
 with all men. 
 
 " The next act was to observe a rigorous fast for twenty- 
 four hours, then to pass the night in prayers in a church. 
 The day following, was his confession, absolution, and the 
 administration to him of the eucharist. Then approach- 
 ing the altar, he placed his sword upon it, which the priest 
 returned to him with his benedictions. 
 
 l^ext followed the knightly equipments, with which he 
 was armed. These were : ^ 1. The spurs. 2. The hau- 
 berk, or coat of mail. 3. The cuirass. 4. The vam- 
 braces and gauntlets. 5. The sword. 
 
 Thus equipped, the lord or superior, gave him the acco- 
 lade, that is, three blows with the flat of the sword on his 
 shoulder or nape of the neck, by which he was dubbed 
 a knight. His helmet and horse were then brought to 
 him, and those, together with his lance, furnished his com- 
 plete equipment. 
 
 Stuart, 299. ^ Guizot, iv, 20. ''Idem, 21. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 61 
 
 Before entering the career of knighthood several oaths 
 were to be taken. Among these were the oath : To fear, 
 revere, and serve God, and the sovereign prince. To 
 maintain the just right of the weak. To obey the orders 
 of their generals, and captains, and to observe the honor, 
 rank, and order of their companions. To keep faith in- 
 violably with all the world, and particularly with their 
 companions. To love, honor, and succor each other. To 
 serve, protect, and save, from all danger and insult, a lady 
 or maiden. To be faithful, courteous, humble, and never 
 fail in their word, for any ill or loss that might thence 
 happen to them. 
 
 The true knight who lived up to his oaths and under- 
 takings, was a character held in great estimation. He was 
 in the enjoyment of very special privileges. He was ad- 
 mitted to the company and tables of the nobles and sove- 
 reign.^ He could surpass others in the richness of his dress 
 and arms, being permitted to wear fur, gold, and silk. 
 He was distinguished in his own order by his ensigns, 
 armorial, and the peculiarities of his blazonry. He enjoyed 
 certain privileges in hunting ; neither his horse nor armor 
 could be taken in executions for debt ; the courts, in his 
 favor, awarded fines beyond the usual proportion to com- 
 pensate his wrongs ; and, when taken prisoner, his rank 
 preserved him from unworthy or ignominious treatment. 
 Presents and pensions awarded his prowess. He was en- 
 riched both by the spoils of the enemy, and by the ransoms 
 of his captives. His usual appearance was on horse-back, 
 attended by his squire ; and if he could afiford it, he could 
 have knights in his train, using a banner or a standard like 
 the barons. As the chief strength of armies consisted, at 
 this time, of cavalry, the skillful management of a horse was 
 one of the great accomplishments of a knight or warrior. 
 
 Although the knight was bound to defend the state and 
 advance the reputation of his chief, yet the praise of his 
 
 Stuart, 59. 
 
62 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 mistress was the spring of bis valor, and the source of his 
 activity. To her consecrated all his trophies. Her form 
 was ever present to his mind, her wish the inspiration to 
 his every action. His enterprise, courage, renown, pro- 
 claimed the power and fame of her perfections. 
 
 All this could not fail of acting strongly upon the deli- 
 cate susceptibilities of the female mind. Woman felt her 
 power and dominion. The rivalship of beauty unfolded all 
 its excellence and charms. " The respectful intercourse 
 they held with the knights, the adoration paid to them, the 
 tournaments at which they presided, the virtues they in- 
 spired, the exploits achieved to their honor, all concurred to 
 promote their elevation and lustre. To their enamored 
 votaries they seemed to be divinities ; and toils, conflicts, 
 and blood purchased their favor, and their smiles." 
 
 Thus aroused, and stimulated by every motive to effort, 
 not only womanly graces and sensibilities were developed, 
 but the higher powers of mind and stronger elements of 
 character were frequently brought out and displayed. 
 ^' Concerned in great affairs, they were agitated with great 
 passions. They partook in the greatness they communi- 
 cated. Their softness mingled with courage, their sensi- 
 bility with pride. With the characteristics of their own 
 sex, they blended those of the other." 
 
 In the stirring events of the time, they took a large 
 share of interest. Acts of generosity, enterprise, and 
 valor; the events of public and private wars, employed 
 much of their thought and conversation. In all their 
 seasons of festivity, more especially in the jousts and tour- 
 naments, where mimic battles were fought in time of 
 peace, the ladies largely interested themselves. These 
 jousts and tournaments may be well olaimed as the culmi- 
 nating points of chivalry. 
 
 The only institutions to which they bear any striking 
 analogy, are the Olympic games of ancient Greece, and to 
 
 i, 61. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 63 
 
 these they were, in many respects, decidedly superior. 
 The sight of naked racers, wrestlers, and boxers must have 
 tended to corrupt the manners of the Greeks, and contrast 
 most unfavorably with the splendid decorations of the 
 knights, armed in complete panoply, and reflecting the 
 highest military and social attainments of the age. A cor- 
 responding elevation is to be found in the nature of the 
 contests. Instead of running, wrestling, and boxing, the 
 joust and tournament presented an impressive image of 
 the real business of the field. " The single combat, the 
 general skirmish, the defense of a pass or castle, were 
 rehearsed as in actual service ; and the contest, both in 
 real and mimic war, was decided by the superior manage- 
 ment of the horse and lance." 
 
 The difference between the joust and the tournament 
 was, that the former consisted in single combats between 
 two knights, while the latter was performed between two 
 parties of cavaliers. Again, the difference between the 
 greater and the lesser tournaments was, that the former 
 were those given by sovereigns and princes, to which 
 knights were invited from every part of Europe, and the 
 latter, those given by the barons. 
 
 Of these tournaments we have the most magnificent 
 description. " Judges were appointed to determine in 
 them,^ and to maintain the laws of chivalry. They were 
 generally selected from among the aged knights, who 
 came in crowds to live over again the scenes they had 
 acted, and to encourage and direct the intrepidity and 
 skill of the aspiring youth. The combatants entered the 
 lists slowly, and with a grave and majestic air, pronounced 
 aloud the names of the ladies to whom they had vowed 
 their hearts and their homage. This privilege they ob- 
 tained at the expense of many a gallant achievement, and 
 they were presented by the fair ones with a ribbon, a 
 bracelet, a veil, or some detached ornament of their dress. 
 
 ^ 8tuart, 63. 
 
54 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 which they affixed to their helmets or their shields, and con- 
 sidered as the pledges of victory. This ^Dresent was called 
 faveur ; and long afterwards, even to the present day, 
 j)ieces of lace or ribbon are sometimes distributed at mar- 
 riages, and are termed brides' favors. 
 
 " Every signal advantage won in the conflicts, was pro- 
 claimed by the instruments of the minstrels, and the voices 
 of the heralds. Animated by the presence of the ladies, by 
 the sense of their former renown, and of that of their ances- 
 tors, the champions displayed the most brilliant feats of 
 activity, address, and valor. And the ladies, entering into 
 their agitations, felt the ardors of emulation, and the trans- 
 ports of glory. 
 
 "On the completion of the tournament the prizes were 
 distributed with a ceremonious impartiality. The officers 
 who had been appointed to observe 'every circumstance 
 which passed in the conduct of the combatants, made 
 their reports to the judges. The suflrages of the spectators 
 were collected. After serious deliberation, in which the 
 most celebrated personages, who were present, were proud 
 to assist, the names of the conquerors were pronounced. 
 Ladies were then chosen, who were to present to them the 
 symbols of victory ; and in these fortunate moments, they 
 were permitted to imprint a kiss on the lips of these fair 
 disposers of renown. 
 
 "Amidst the contending praise of the judges and the 
 knights, the music of war, and the shouts of the people, 
 the victors were now conducted to the palace of the prince 
 or the noble who exhibited the tournament. There, at 
 the feast, which concluded their triumph, they were ex- 
 posed to the keen look, and the impassioned admiration 
 of whatever was most accomplished in beauty and in arms. 
 And, in the height of a glory, in which they might well have 
 forgot that they were mortal, they employed themselves 
 to console the knights they had vanquished, and ascribed 
 their success to fortune not to valor ; displaying a demeanor 
 complacent and gentle, disarming envy by modesty, and 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. Q^ 
 
 enhancing greatness by generous sympathy and magnani- 
 mous condescension." 
 
 Thus glorious and exalted in many of its brighter as- 
 pects was the age of chivalry. It was the age of activity, 
 of heroism, of romance, and of gallantry. From the 
 eleventh century its ceremonies, duties, and adventures, 
 constituted the mine whence poetry derived its materials 
 to charm the people, excite the imagination, and elevate 
 the aims and purposes of life.^ 
 
 All these incentives to love and glory were advanced and 
 inspirited by religion. To defend Christianity with his 
 sword and his life became a sacred vow, to which every 
 knight was ambitious to submit. He considered himself a 
 saint as well as hero, and was ever ready to encounter any 
 peril in defending the church or carrying warfare against 
 its enemies. 
 
 Another stimulus was afforded in the opportunity of 
 redressing wrongs, by which the sense of justice was in- 
 vigorated. The age of chivalry occurred in a period of 
 disorder and confusion. It was a part of knighthood to 
 vindicate the wrongs of the injured. The weak and the 
 oppressed, the orphan and the widow, had always a special 
 claim upon the knight. To disobey their call, was to in- 
 fringe a law of chivalry, to incur dishonor and infamy. 
 The introduction of such an element, the thrusting of such 
 a moral force into an age of violence and oppression, as- 
 serting everywhere the right, redressing everywhere the 
 wrong, clothing force with a moral purpose, and sending 
 it on a moral mission, produced a mighty effect upon the 
 -social progress of that and all subsequent ages. 
 
 So very strong did this motive become, and so powerfully 
 did the ardor of redressing wrongs seize upon many 
 knights,^ that attended by their squires, they actually 
 wandered about in search of objects whose misfortunes and 
 misery required their assistance and succor. As the ladies 
 
 ^ Ouizot, IV, 35. "" Stuart, 308. 
 VI] 9 
 
66 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 engaged more particularly their atteution, the relief of un- 
 fortunate danisels was the achievement they most courted. 
 This gave rise to knight-errantry, and to all those adven- 
 tures that make up so much of the romance of that period. 
 
 " Thus war, devotion, and gallantry all conspired to form 
 the character of the true knight.^ And these manners, so 
 lofty and so romantic, were for ages to give a splendor to 
 Europe by directing the fortunes of its nations, and by 
 producing examples of magnanimity and valor, which are 
 unequaled in the annals of mankind." The efficacy of 
 these was the most fully displayed in communicating to 
 society a higher and purer tone. '' The spirit of humanity 
 which has been progressing both in periods of war and of 
 peace ; the gallantry prevailing in our conversations and 
 private intercourse ; the point of honor which corrects the 
 violence of the passions, by improving our delicacy, and 
 sense of propriety and decorum, and, by teaching us the 
 importance of others, makes us value our owa; all these 
 have grown out of chivalry, and discriminate the modern 
 from the ancient world." 
 
 By thus bringing the two sexes of the higher portions of 
 society together both were mutually improved. The 
 knight was perhaps the' most benefited. !N'ot only did it 
 add graces to external behavior, but it also improved 
 his natural sensibility and tenderness. To him the lady 
 was the embodiment of perfection. 'No rude hand could, 
 with impunity, invade her possessions ; no unruly tongue 
 slander her character. The roughness of war was smoothed 
 over with politeness. The knightly courtesy more espe- 
 cially practiced in the castle was extended to all the busi- 
 ness and intercourse of civil life. Elegance of manners 
 became an especial object of study. Generosity and 
 delicate attentions to the vanquished shone conspicuous 
 among the knightly virtues. No indecent joy, or brutal 
 ferocity, disgraced his triumphs. His rank, duties and 
 
 ^ Stuart, m. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 67 
 
 cares all urged upon him the necessity of aiming at the 
 perfection of virtue. He ever possessed the most scrupu- 
 lous adherence to truth and justice. Even the utterance 
 of a falsehood was punished by degradation from knight- 
 hood. The act of degradation was accomplished by the 
 solemn taking away of the sword/ the cutting of the spurs, 
 the tearing from the body the coat of arms, and the bruis- 
 ing every piece of the knight's armor. 
 
 But while we are thus exhibiting the bright side of 
 chivalry, v/e should not be unmindful of the fact that the 
 age in which it flourished was one of great dissoluteness in 
 morals, and that even knighthood itself has its dark, and 
 its ridiculous, as well as its bright side. In courts and in 
 large cities, more especially, an extreme degree of licentious- 
 ness was practiced. Prostitutes formed a particular class, 
 enjoying governmental protection,^ paying distinct taxes, 
 and possessing the right of proceeding at law against all 
 those who undertook to follow the profession, without 
 being admitted to the freedom of the sisterhood. The first 
 magistrates of London and other cities kept public brothels. 
 At the feast of fools, during the Christmas holidays, from 
 the eleventh to the sixteenth century, it was the custom 
 through large portions of Europe, for laymen and even 
 ecclesiastics to dance naked in the streets and in the 
 churches. When in 1461, Louis XI entered Paris, its 
 inhabitants selected the most beautiful damsels of their 
 city, who, in the character of sirens, sung, quite naked, all 
 kinds of pastoral compositions. It was customary to dance 
 naked at weddings, and at the balls and festivities which 
 accompanied and concluded the tournaments, much the 
 same exhibitions were made. On such occasions those 
 passions, at all times possessing great strength and activity, 
 were inflamed by wine ; and there was said to be nothing 
 which the knights would not demand, and which females 
 of the highest rank were not prepared to grant. isTotwith- 
 
 1 Stuart, 311. ^ Meiners's History of the Female Sex, i, 305. 
 
68 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 stanclirjg the knight's oath and obligation to protect females, 
 nothing was more common than their persecution and 
 ravishment/ and the crimes of incest and adultery were of 
 frequent commission. Even polgyamy was practiced, and 
 concubinage was so universal among even the higher ranks 
 as to do away with the disgrace of illegitimate birth. 
 
 Amid this deplorable state of morals it may be well 
 doubted whether much genuine aflection, attachment and 
 esteem really existed. There was the exterior respect for 
 the fair sex, and also the affectation of piety and valor, and 
 this kept increasing until the commencement of the 
 fifteenth century. But their piety displayed itself in fast- 
 ing, castigation, and other penances. The treasures they 
 squandered in tournaments and feasts were too often ob- 
 tained from rifled churches and convents, and plundered 
 merchants and travelers ; while their valor and courage 
 were less displayed in the defense of their country than in 
 oppressing their inferiors, invading their equals, rebelling 
 against their superiors, and engaging in adventures often 
 romantic and ludicrous. Many of the knights evinced 
 little fidelity to their wives, or care in educating their 
 daughters,^ but their love and esteem were all embraced 
 in empty ostentation and ridiculous extravagance. Much 
 of the incense which they offered at the shrine of the 
 female sex was simply the result of custom, habit and fash- 
 ion. A great deal was apparent, but very little real. 
 
 It is, however, admitted by all, that in every country, 
 and in every age, there were knights who conscientiously 
 fulfilled all the vows they took upon themselves, ever con- 
 ducting themselves as living patterns of every knightly 
 virtue. So also at every period were there high, pure and 
 noble minded ladies, who endeavored, and successfully, to 
 render themselves worthy of the esteem of. such knights. 
 E'or is it probable that the examples of these were lost 
 upon the thought and actions of others. 
 
 Meiners, i, 207. ^ Idem, 313. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 69 
 
 We Lave before barely alluded to knight-errants. They 
 were coeval with chivalry, and in some sense applied to 
 all knights, for all were, more or less, wandering about in 
 pursuit of adventures. The term came to be more 
 especially applied to those who, by command of their 
 mistresses, or from motives of gratitude, or to render 
 themselves more worthy the favor of the fair, and to exalt 
 their own glory, made it their especial business to travel 
 into foreign countries, and with sword and lance to main- 
 tain the superior virtue and beauty of their ladies,^ against all 
 expressing a doubt upon that subject. Among them were 
 those who set themselves up for the protectors of innocence 
 and the deliverers of the oppressed, who claimed to be the 
 descendants and rivals of the knights of the round table. 
 These encountered giants, took enchanted castles, and 
 were the heroes of romance. 
 
 The amorous knight-errants, who traveled in obedience 
 to the commands of their mistresses, wore green armor, 
 weapons, and apparel, to denote the verdure of their youth, 
 and the flower of their strength. Their expeditions were 
 generally undertaken in obedience to certain vows which 
 they had, in moments of amorous intoxication, voluntarily 
 placed themselves under, or which their mistresses had 
 required of them. A knight of Mantua was so intoxicated 
 at being selected as a partner for a dance, by Johanna, 
 queen of N^aples, that he vowed to travel in France, Bur- 
 gundy, England, Spain, Germany, and other countries, 
 until he had vanquished two knights, to present to her 
 as slaves. And this vow he actually accomplished. In 
 another instance, the mistress had the cruelty to impose " 
 on a French knight, the following : ^ She promised to resign 
 herself to him, with heart and hand, and to place her for- 
 tune at his disposal, if he would bring her the portraits of 
 thirty fair ladies, whose admirers he had vanquished out 
 of love to her. The knight took upon him the vow, and 
 
 ' Meiners, i, 228. ' Idem, 237. 
 
70 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in less than a year, returned with thirty portraits of the 
 mistresses of conquered knights. 
 
 The extravagances of knight-errantry finally became so 
 great, that the age could not relish them, and they became 
 a subject of ridicule. Don Quixote was the last of the 
 knight-errants. In the fourteenth century it had nearly 
 died out. We have, however, in that century, a descrip- 
 tion of one who called at the castle of Montbazon.^ He 
 sounded the horn before the great gate of the castle. 'No 
 trumpeter answered from within, which was the usual cus- 
 tom, and he turned his horse and departed. The pages ran 
 after him and succeeded in bringing him back. He enters 
 with his squire, both entirely clothed with plates of brass, 
 making much the same noise as mules loaded with copper 
 utensils ill packed. The helmet of the knight being taken 
 off by the squire, his head appeared half bald, and half 
 sprinkled with white hair, his left eye covered with a 
 piece of green cloth. He had made a vow to see only 
 from the right side, and to eat only from the left, until 
 after the accomplishment of his enterprise. The ladies 
 proposing that he should refresh himself, his only answer 
 was to throw himself at their feet, swearing to them all 
 eternal love, saying, that although his arms were of the best 
 temper, they could not defend him from their features ; 
 that he should die of them, that he felt himself dying, that 
 he was undone, and a thousand other similar fooleries. 
 He made but a short stay, setting out some hours after. 
 
 Even the joust and the tournament that presented so 
 many points of attraction that would seem to insure it per- 
 petuity, gradually lost their hold on the affections of men 
 and finally died out. But the brilliant fires they had lit up, 
 especially the latter, during the middle ages, were difficult 
 of extinguishment. -The tournament, with some interrup- 
 tions, was continued in Sweden down to the commence- 
 ment of the present century, if not the present time. "Every 
 
 ^Ouizot, IV, 30. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 71 
 
 year," says Joseph Acerbi, of the date of 1802/ " an ex- 
 hibition takes place at Drottningholm, at the king's ex- 
 pense, representing a tournament, in which all the laws of 
 chivalry are observed with the greatest exactness. It is 
 generally attended by an immense crowd of spectators. 
 The fete lasted several days, everything being attended to 
 which belonged to the ancient tournaments. The prizes 
 were distributed the last day under the direction of the 
 queen, according to the sentence of the appointed judges. 
 The knights might wear upon their armor the ribbons of 
 favors of their ladies. The ladies might propose prizes for 
 which the knights were to contend. This seems to be the 
 only instance in which this once popular diversion was 
 restored and so long kept up." 
 
 A beneficial result of the tournament while in its glory, 
 has not yet been mentioned, and that is the direct inter- 
 course between the different nations of Europe, which the 
 exhibition of it produced.^ " When there were no express 
 prohibitions, knights followed the more important tourna- 
 ments wherever they were celebrated, for the purpose of 
 studying the art of war, and that they might find signal 
 and proper opportunities of distinguishing themselves, and 
 of cultivating the friendship and acquaintance of illus- 
 trious persons of both sexes. It was even the fashion for 
 knights to avoid the restraint of marriage for some years 
 after their installation into the order, that they might con- 
 secrate them to the traveling into distant countries, and 
 the visiting of foreign courts." 
 
 The spirit of chivalry left behind it a worthy successor. 
 This was found in the gentleman, who succeeded the 
 knight, and who distinguishes European society during 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,^ as fully as the 
 knight did the preceding ages. In his composition, we 
 discern the same jealous sense of honor, ceremonious gal- 
 lantry and politeness, high pride of birth, and feeling of 
 
 'Acerhi's Travels, i, 50. ""Stuart, 303. ^Eallam, 519. 
 
72 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 independence, together with a sympathy for martial honor, 
 which served so strongly to characterize the knight during 
 the age of chivahy. 
 
 IV. Society in Europe as it existed in the Age of the Trouba- 
 dours. 
 
 The early youth of nations has rarely been insensible to 
 the magic influence of poetry and song. These, especially 
 the latter,have done much to mould the character of every 
 people. The power of song is felt among those rude na- 
 tures who have never attained to any of the arts of civil- 
 ized life. It is precisely those who stand the most in need 
 ^ of its softening, humanizing influences, and who are the 
 most aflfected by it. It is those who compose the songs 
 and ballads of a nation, and not those who enact its laws, 
 who give it its direction, and are the most responsible for 
 its actions. The Marseillaise hymn, whether falling upon 
 the ear in the silence of secluded valleys, or sounding forth 
 its terrible notes amid the thoroughfares of Paris, has 
 wrought more upon the hearts of Frenchmen, than all the 
 laws or acts of her Bourbon kings. 
 
 But it is in the infancy or early youth of a people, ere 
 criticism has issued its canons so rigidly severe as to freeze 
 the genial currents of the soul, or art has constructed its 
 rules so precise and definite, as to fetter every outgrowth 
 from the springs of feeling, that the power of song may 
 be expected to exert its largest and its deepest influence. It 
 is then that the heart of the nation beats responsive to its 
 notes. It is then that its every tone finds in every heart, 
 its echo. It is then that the whole soul, tremblingly alive 
 in its every fibre, is held spell-bound beneath an influence 
 that floats through it so mysteriously. There are few 
 things that demonstrate more clearly that there are chords 
 in every link of humanity's lengthening chain that vibrate 
 to a common influence, than this wonderful power exer- 
 cised by poetry, music, and song. And of these, the 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 73 
 
 latter combines the two former, for a song is poetry set to 
 music. 
 
 The age of chivalry passed not away with the armed 
 knight and the steel-clad warrior ; with the joust and the 
 tournament; with all its fetes and extravagant excesses. 
 The spirit it enkindled in the hearts of men was pushed 
 out into other and still more interesting social develop- 
 ments. It could not fully perform its mission without 
 invoking the power of song. This brings us to the age of 
 the troubadour, the most beautiful period of the middle 
 ages. 
 
 The name is derived from the French word trouver, 
 indicating the ease of their poetry. The home of the 
 troubadour was France, a part of upper Italy, and the 
 kingdoms of Catalonia and Arragon, in the Spanish 
 peninsula. The period in which he flourished extends 
 from the tenth to the middle of the thirteenth century. 
 
 Through the whole of the middle ages, France was 
 divided by the Loire into two distinct countries. These 
 were marked by two distinct dialects ; the one the langue 
 d'oil, the Walloon romance, the other, the langue d'oc, 
 the Provengal romance. Although these two dialects 
 owned a common source, yet their characters were marked 
 by strong lines of difference. The Walloon romance, the 
 mother of the modern French language, was that culti- 
 vated by the trouveres, the poets of northern France, 
 whose poetry bore more of the epic character, and whose 
 songs and chivalrous romances described the fabulous 
 exploits of the knights of the round table, of Amadis, 
 and of Charlemagne with his peers. They proceeded 
 chiefly from E"ormandy, and spread over France and Eng- 
 land ; in the latter, under the name of minstrels. They 
 flourished from the twelfth century, until the rise of the 
 modern French literature. 
 
 But south of the "Loire we find a different region, a dif- 
 ferent language, or dialect, and a different people. " The 
 beautiful shores of Provence, Languedoc, and Guienne, 
 
 [VI 10 
 
74 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 together witli Gascony, had earlier become susceptible of 
 civilization, through their intercourse with the Eomans; 
 and the victorious German tribes found in these regions 
 much stronger inducements to exchange their savage life 
 for gentle manners than in the north of France. Less 
 isolated than Spain, these provinces shared with that 
 country all the luxuriance of the south. Eich pastures, 
 with the finest productions, romantic valleys and hills, in 
 the fertile Cevennes, a long extent of coast on the Medi- 
 terranean sea, give loveliness to the country, and a gay, 
 pleasure-loving character to the inhabitants." 
 
 The chivalry of the people inhabiting this region of 
 country was more gallant than that of the north, and softer 
 and brighter than that of the Spanish peninsula. There 
 was more in it of show and festivity. It had an opportu- 
 nity of more perfect development. The storms which 
 desolated France under the Merovingian and Carlovingian 
 races were little, if at all, felt among the Proven gals. In 
 those southern provinces, the power of the great barons, 
 dukes, and counts, was more and more developed, while 
 the authority of the king was correspondingly declining. 
 They succeeded in not only making their own dignity 
 hereditary, but also encroached continually on the royal 
 territory. Thus the gay, smiling climate of the south of 
 France, combining with the independence, superiority 
 and freedom of its political institutions, called forth the 
 earliest fruits of chivalry, and its attendant, song. As 
 early as in the tenth century, while northern France was 
 a prey to intestine commotions, Provence, and part of 
 Burgundy,^ and its dependencies enjoyed repose under 
 the mild sway of Conrad the Pacific. The courts of the 
 Berengers, the sovereigns of Catalonia, and part of southern 
 France, became the principal nurseries of the opening 
 talent, and the centre of union with other European na- 
 tions. In the eleventh century, during the reign of Ray- 
 
 ^Lays of Minnesingers, 15, 16. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 75 
 
 mond Berengerius, count of Barcelona, the Proven9al 
 poetry was introduced into Barcelona and Catalonia. 
 Under Alpbonso the Second, the empire of love and poetry 
 was extended over a great portion of the south-western 
 district of Spain. 
 
 The eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries form 
 together a period of fermentation, during which the ele- 
 ments of European civilization were not only in great 
 commotion, hut were in the act of separating from each 
 other,^ and fashioning themselves for the reception of new 
 forms. Everywhere principles were crude and undigested, 
 but feeling was strong. Chivalry was cherishing its wild 
 dreams, outraging all common sense in their extravagance. 
 The servile worship of the female sex was productive of 
 effects almost ludicrous, and yet it may well be regarded as 
 the commencement of that important revolution in society 
 which ultimately fixed on the firm basis of religious justice 
 the destinies of one-half of the human race. 
 
 During this period courteousness and gallantry were no- 
 where so fully developed as in Provence. The beauty of 
 woman became a boast and a treasure, and was worshiped 
 as little less than a divinity. The heart of man was bolder, 
 his arm firmer, than in the days of dull reality, and the 
 spirit of adventurous knighthood became softened into 
 heroic gentleness and gallant love. The German emperor, 
 Frederic Barbarossa, and the English king, Eichard Coeur 
 de Lion invited Proven9al knights to their courts to receive 
 instruction from them in the usages and ceremonies of 
 chivalry. 
 
 All the elements of society were thus, to a certain ex- 
 tent, drawn together by an uniting sympathy, and by a 
 common zeal in the promotion of objects, which could not 
 but tend in some degree to temper their asperities. The 
 kings of nations, the aristocracy, and the people were united 
 in emulation in the field, and the inequalities of rank were 
 
 ^ Lays of Minnesingers, 4. 
 
76 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 still further mitigated by the value set upon poetic talent, 
 by whomsoever it might be displayed. It was the mind's 
 early springtime; the season of unfolding intellect and 
 mental blossoming. The troubadour knight was at one 
 time breathing the fire of martial glory^ and animating his 
 followers to heroic enterprise ; at another turning his muse 
 into a powerful political engine ; and at another still melt- 
 ing into the soft and delightful harmony of love. 
 
 Love, now an universal birth, 
 
 From heart to heart was stealing ; 
 From earth to man, from man to earth, 
 
 It was the hour of feeling. 
 
 The chivalry and the poetry of these ages are insepara- 
 bly connected. They are both the fruits of one great moral 
 revolution. They sprung up together, and are mutually 
 illustrative of each other. They have similar blemishes 
 and similar redeeming qualities. "While the ancient or 
 classic poetry was essentially masculine in its character, 
 the Provengal owes much of its charm to that gentleness 
 and mildness of spirit which the different position of woman 
 in society necessarily infused into it. In the early ages the 
 new feeling, coming upon the heart with all its vivid fresh- 
 ness, was wildly and extravagantly pursued. It was as if 
 the springs of a new life were opened in the human heart, 
 and their joyous outgushings were a necessity of their very 
 being. 
 
 Among the curious institutions of which this new feel- 
 ing and the song of the troubadour were productive, 
 were, the tribunals or courts of love which originated in 
 the twelfth and continued through the thirteenth and four- 
 teenth centuries. To their establishment and continuance 
 the gallantry originating in chivalry and tournaments ; the 
 exterior respect paid to the sex ; the indolent leisure, and 
 frequent festivities of the princes, gentlemen and knights, 
 together with the inventive imagination of the trouba- 
 dours, all contributed. The largest number of these, as 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 77 
 
 also those which were the most celebrated, were held in 
 Provence, the land of the troubadour. 
 
 These courts had their presidents like other tribunals, 
 and also the different offices belonging to a parliamentary 
 organization, and which were filled by ladies and gentle- 
 men of the highest rank. The persons who presided over 
 them were either kings or princes, or celebrated princesses. 
 Their jurisdiction was very extensive:^ They heard and 
 decided all disputes between lovers, enacted ordinances 
 respecting the rights of man and wife, and of lovers of 
 both sexes; introduced new customs and abolished old 
 ones ; discussing particularly all questions relative to the 
 essence and expressions of love, the excellencies and failings 
 of the fair sex, and the privileges, duties, and sacrifices of 
 lovers. The following may be cited as samples of the 
 questions discussed : " Which is the most easy to be en- 
 dured, the death or inconstancy of a mistress ? " ^' Should 
 you rather see me leave your mistress as you approach, or 
 appp roach as you retire ? " " Who suffers most, a hus- 
 band whose wife, or a lover whose mistress, is unfaithful ? " 
 " Can true love exist between husband and wife ? " Thus 
 love, instead of constituting the romance, was made the 
 serious business of life among the higher classes. After 
 the discussion in these courts came the decision pro- 
 nounced after the manner of the parliaments. So import- 
 ant were they deemed that their decisions have been col- 
 lected and published. From these, as from all other 
 things connected with their organization, it seems that the 
 jurisprudence and the philosophy of love in the mi^ddle 
 ages very perfectly resembled the jurisprudence, the 
 divinity, and the philosophy of the schools, that is, that 
 they were equally subtle and unprofitable, adding nothing 
 whatever to the stock of valuable knowledge, and entirely 
 barren of results. 
 
 These courts culminated in France under the reign of 
 Charles YI. This was mainly through the influence of 
 his consort, Isabella of Bavaria, whose court was established 
 
78 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in 1380. Even under Louis XIV an academy of love 
 was established by Cardinal Ricbelieu, at Ruel, which was 
 an imitation of the courts of love. 
 
 The cessation of the formal courts of love about the close 
 of the fourteenth century was signalized by the rise of 
 another institution called the amorous court.^ This afforded 
 instances of the same kind of mockery of an actual court 
 as the tribunals of love were imitations of real parliaments. 
 This court had the same officers as the courts of the French 
 and other monarchs, such as marshals, treasurers, cham- 
 berlains, secretaries, advocates, huntsmen and the like. 
 Among its officers and members were included not only 
 ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank but also doctors 
 of divinity, canons, preachers, and ecclesiastics of the 
 superior orders. 
 
 It was thus that the belle passion, arising in a lovely 
 climate, among a people of sensuous organization and 
 of active and sensitive temperament, and fanned into a 
 flame by the poetry of the troubadours, sought to exhibit 
 itself in every possible form, and to work out its own 
 peculiar character through every possible avenue. This, 
 without doubt, exercised a strong influence upon society 
 in Europe, and more especially in France in the subsequent 
 centuries. 
 
 But the influence wrought by poetry and song during 
 these ages was not confined to the troubadour and the 
 south of France. In northern France we find the trou- 
 veres, who, proceeding from the duchy of ISTormandy, and 
 spreading over France and England, flourished from the 
 twelfth century till the rise of the modern French literature. 
 In England they were known by the name of minstrels. 
 These trouveres were the epic poets of France, whose songs 
 and romances described the fabulous exploits of the knights 
 of the round table, of Amadis, and of Charlemagne and 
 his peers. 
 
 Meiners, i, 250, 251, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 79 
 
 At about the same period, tlie poetic talent began to 
 develop itself in the minnesingers of Germany, but between 
 their songs and those of the troubadours was a wide dif- 
 ference. The Teutonic mind paid less adoration to the fe- 
 male sex than the Proven9al. In Provence this exaltation 
 of the sex was a recent innovation, a feeling which had 
 taken possession of the mind with the power of novelty, 
 and might, therefore, be expected to be pushed out rapidly 
 into its peculiar results. The Teutonic mind, although 
 strong in its attachments, restrained, nevertheless, its modes 
 of expression, and while assigning to woman a superior 
 rank in the scale of society, refused to acknowledge her 
 as a divinity, or to bow down to her temporal and spiritual 
 authority. 
 
 But although exciting into activity the trouveres and 
 the minnesingers, yet the song of the troubadour was des- 
 tined to die out in its own land. The crusade against the 
 Albigenses occurred in the thirteenth century, which filled 
 the whole land of Provence with scenes of cruelty and 
 bloodshed. This was fatal to the troubadours, whose 
 light was extinguished never again to be revived. 
 
 ]^ever again with one exception. Our own time is wit- 
 nessing a revival of the song of the troubadour. In the 
 town of Agen, on the Garonne, lives a peasant poet, 
 Jacques Jasmin, commonly called the last of the trouba- 
 dours.^ He is a barber and hair-dresser, and earns his living 
 by following his calling. The language he makes use of is 
 the old Provengal, the first of those languages to which the 
 Latin gave birth after the inroads of barbarism, one which 
 reached its highest degree of perfection during the twelfth 
 century from 1150 to 1220. This language he uses as it 
 was written in purer times, and wherever he goes he is 
 understood even by the Catalonians. 
 
 He reaches the heart of the people, and his songs and 
 poems are in the mouths of those who labor in the fields, or 
 
 ^ Eclectic Magazine, January to April, 1853, 193 - 4. 
 
80 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 who sit by their firesides. He tells the story of the people 
 in fictions at once so true, beautiful, and familiar, that he 
 charms the peasant life. The bare announcement of his 
 name draws together immense audiences, and his appear- 
 ance everywhere excites enthusiasm. When he recites 
 before assemblies of people, sometimes two thousand in 
 number, the ladies tear the flowers and feathers out of 
 their bonnets to weave them into garlands for him. He 
 refuses all pay for his recitations, returning to his regular 
 calling to furnish him with the means of living. He is 
 about fifty-six years old, and every way worthy of being 
 the last of the troubadours. 
 
 Y. Society as it has developed, and is developing itself in the 
 different European nations. 
 
 1. In the Spanish peninsula. 
 
 The Pyrenean wall separates this peninsula from the 
 rest of Europe. On its northern slope, the French side, 
 we meet with a singular people, inhabiting the territory of 
 Cerdagne and Roussillon.^ They cling to old thoughts, 
 customs and institutions ; and in character and imagina- 
 tion carry one back to the mediaeval times. On Sunday 
 and Saints' day are performed now those ancient and tradi- 
 tional mysteries, which were the origin of the modern 
 drama. With slight differences they are the same now 
 as when enacted in Italy and Germany, in the middle ages' 
 and time of the troubadours. We find here, therefore, 
 the point of transition between mediaeval and modern 
 times. 
 
 Ascending the northern slope we still find existing as a 
 distinct race,^ and scattered in the villages and valleys of 
 the Pyrenees, the Cagots. They are low in stature, weak 
 and tottering ; their complexions sallow ; and their appear- 
 ance evidencing weakness of intellect.^ They are a pro- 
 
 ■ Eclectic, January to April, 1857, 111. ' Idem, 109. ^ Idem, 109, 110. 
 
EUEOPE— ITS SOCIETY. 81 
 
 scribed race, denied the rights of worship and of sepulture ; 
 separated from the rest of the congregation while living ; 
 limited to a distinct portion of the churchyard when dead ; 
 admitted to the benefit of the holy water, but excluded 
 from the reception of the sacraments. They present the 
 clear evidence of having groaned under the weight of 
 persecution of one thousand years. It is yet an unsolved 
 problem whether they are the descendants of the invading 
 Goths of the fifth century ; or the remnants of those Sara- 
 cenic invaders who were defeated by Charles Martel at 
 Poictiers in the eighth ; or the Albigenses who were dis- 
 persed in the twelfth century. 
 
 The Pyrenees, like an immense wall, separate the Span- 
 ish peninsula from the rest of Europe. The fortunes of 
 that peninsula have been peculiar, and the teachings 
 of history in reference to its different peoples, full of in- 
 struction. In industry, religion, and government, we have 
 already seen that its lessons are admonitory. They are 
 like the beacon fires upon a rocky coast, fuller of warning 
 than of winning. 
 
 In casting our eye over the peninsula with a view to 
 the gathering up of such fragments as may instruct us in 
 the development of the social element, we are struck 
 with two facts, which, in the outset, present themselves as 
 strong modifying causes. These are ; 1. The physical 
 peculiarities of the peninsula. Although seemingly set 
 apart from the rest of the world, and apparently designed 
 to constitute a little world in itself, yet, on examination, 
 it presents no unity of plan, but, on the contrary, is so 
 ridged with mountains, and furrowed with river valleys, 
 as to present many natural boundaries to states and king- 
 doms. 2. The second fact is, the many different peoples, 
 originally varying essentially from each other, who, by 
 centuries of amalgamation, have come to constitute the 
 people of Spain and Portugal. It is like many different 
 colored rills pouring their confluent streams into the same 
 
 VI] H 
 
 ^SS5C> 
 
82 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 common reservoir. First, we have the Iberians, the ori- 
 ginal inhabitants. E"ext, the Celts, whose invasion at first 
 met with resistance, but ultimately, both people agreed to 
 possess the country in common, and to remain forever 
 united.^ Hence we have the Celtiberians, in many respects, 
 deserving to be regarded as the primitive inhabitants of 
 the peninsula. Then we have the early, and considerably 
 extensive, colonization of the southern part by the Phoeni- 
 cians. The Phoenician power fell with the downfall of 
 Carthage, and Spain two centuries before the Christian 
 era became a Roman province, the latter introducing their 
 manners, customs, and even language, into the peninsula. 
 It was long, however, before the northern part, afterwards 
 composing old Castile, Arragon, and Catalonia, became 
 wholly subdued. 
 
 Again, on the downfall of the Roman empire, and in the 
 beginning of the fifth century, the Sueves, Yandals and Visi- 
 goths invaded the peninsula, and mixing, in large num- 
 bers, with the original Celtiberians, produced the different 
 races, the traces of which are still observable in Spain. The 
 Sueves made Braga their centre; the Vandals, Toledo, 
 from which they were afterwards driven into Africa by 
 Theodoric; but the Visigoths ultimately ruled from the 
 Ebro to the straits of Gibraltar. So great was the con- 
 cession of power and privilege to the Gothic race that the 
 title hijo del Goda,^ son of the Goth, becoming afterwards 
 changed into hidalgo has ever since signified the title of 
 a noble, or free and powerful man, among a people of 
 slaves. The extent of the Gothic rule and its power and 
 influence in the moulding of character may be inferred 
 fi^om its code of laws, which so long and so perfectly go- 
 verned the people. 
 
 But invasion, conquest, and settlement had not yet 
 ceased, for in these respects Spain has had a larger propor- 
 tion than other nations. Three centuries later and the 
 
 Malte Brun, viii, 18, 19. ^ Idem, 24. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 83 
 
 commencement of the eighth century was signalized by the 
 advent of the Arabs. They introduced refinement, and 
 many of the arts of life. They cultivated letters and the 
 arts ; and embellished Cordova, Grenada and other towns. 
 
 But among the mountains of the Asturias was gradually 
 nurturing a power, which, after more than four centuries 
 of struggle, finally under Ferdinand and Isabella achieved 
 a reconquest of the kingdom, ultimately expelling the 
 Moors. But their domicile, in Spain, of eight centuries du- 
 ration, could not avoid leaving its impress upon character, 
 and originating many manners and customs, which, but 
 for them, would have had no existence. Thus while the 
 Italian peninsula has furnished to Europe its battle-fields, 
 and its dififerent portions have been the prey of the conquer- 
 or, that of Spain has been more domiciliary in its character, 
 furnishing homes to its dififerent invaders. There is no 
 doubt but the Spanish character has been essentially modi- 
 fied from this circumstance. 
 
 The ancient Iberians and Lusitanians (inhabitants of 
 Spain and Portugal) amused themselves with dances that 
 were light and lively, requiring much activity.^ The old 
 Celtiberians held an assembly every year in which they ex- 
 amined what the women had with their own hands made, 
 within the year, giving a reward to her whose work they 
 thought the best.^ They considered corpulency a reproach, 
 and the men were measured every year by a cincture of a 
 certain breadth, inflicting some punishment on those who 
 had become too large. The age of marriage was fixed by 
 law, the girls choosing their husbands from among the 
 young warriors, the surest means of obtaining their prefer- 
 ence being the presentation to the fair one of the head of an 
 enemy slain in battle. 
 
 Many of the Celtiberian women wore iron collars with 
 iron rods rising behind, and bent in front. To these rods 
 was attached the veil, their usual ornament. Others wore 
 
 ' Malte Brim, viii, 23, 33. ^ Idem, 33. 
 
84 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 a sort of broad turban, and some twisted their bair round 
 a small ring about a foot above the bead appending from 
 the ring a black veil. A shining forehead was considered 
 great beauty, and to add as much as possible to it they 
 pulled out their hair, and rubbed their brows with oil. 
 
 From the many different elements that enter into the 
 Spanish character, and the different periods of time at 
 which these contributions have been furnished, it is ob- 
 vious that the Spanish character will be found to differ 
 with different periods of time. ]N"ot only that, but it varies 
 also, in the different provinces.^ The shades of character 
 are even better defined in each Spanish province, than in 
 other European kingdoms. To this result, several oauses 
 conduce, as : 1. The low state of industry leading to very 
 little intercommunication between the people in the differ- 
 ent provinces. 2. The badness, or entire want of roads, by 
 which this intercourse could be promoted. 3. The strong 
 natural barriers that separate states. All these present so 
 many obstacles to that frequent intercourse and communi- 
 cation, so essential to diffuse an uniform character over a 
 whole population. Thus we have the light and graceful 
 forms of the Biscayans, the lofty stature of the Gallicians 
 and Catalonians, the dark complexions of the Estremadu- 
 rans, the strength of the Castilians, and the pale complex- 
 ions of the Murcians. 
 
 The moral, not less than the physical character, differs 
 in the different provinces. The Biscayans are haughty, 
 irascible, and passionate ; the Gallicians, melancholy and 
 unsocial, although laborious and brave ; the Catalonians, 
 impetuous and indocile ; the Arragonese, devoted to their 
 country, and strongly attached to its ancient customs ; the 
 Castilians, grave and proud ; the Estremadurans, indolent 
 and vain ; the Andalusians, proud and arrogant ; the Mur- 
 cians, slow and dull ; and the Yalencians, gay and incon- 
 stant, ingenious and industrious. 
 
 ^Malte Brun, viii, 57, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 85 
 
 Under this state of things, it can excite but little surprise 
 if different travelers have given different accounts of the 
 Spaniards, or even if we have different accounts of the 
 inhabitants of the same provinces at different times. It is 
 no doubt, true, however, that there has been some approx- 
 imation towards a uniformity in character, manners, and 
 customs; and hence that, subject to some modifications, it 
 is competent of such as being Spanish. Another fact also 
 should be borne in mind, and that is that neither the 
 Spanish character, nor the circumstances under which it 
 has been developed, are at all favorable to those changes 
 which occur to people under other circumstances, as under 
 American institutions. The character is there formed 
 and develops itself in obedience to the same manners, 
 customs, social habits, and institutions, that might have 
 been followed for centuries, and thus acquired fixedness 
 and unchangeability. We shall now proceed to describe, 
 briefly, some of the peculiarities of the Spanish character, 
 and some of their manners and customs. 
 
 The Spaniard is described as short, thin, and well pro- 
 portioned; his complexion olive ;^ his strong desire to 
 expend in display all the means at his command. In the 
 former part of the sixteenth century the Spanish, in con- 
 junction with the Austrian, in the person of Charles Y, 
 was the ruling power in Europe, at the same time claiming 
 exclusive sovereignty in the new world. While the wealth 
 of the new world was pouring into Spain, everything 
 seemed to bow before her in the old. The Spaniard- thus 
 acquired a consequence in the eye of the world, which aid- 
 ing a preexisting tendency, gave him great dignity of 
 character, loftiness of bearing, and that inflation of pride 
 which was constantly displaying itself in his gestures, lan- 
 guage and writings. He seemed enveloped in an atmo- 
 sphere of grandeur, and his character acquired elements 
 which it has ever since retained ; for although the living 
 
 Travels through Europe, iv, 18, 19< 
 
86 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Spaniard of the sixteenth century has disappeared yet his 
 mask still remains. He still preserves in his air and 
 gesture the marks of his ancient greatness. There is a 
 gravity and haughtiness that marks all his actions, but, as 
 a compensating quality, it gives to the mind that eleva- 
 tion and loftiness that operates as a safeguard against 
 every species of littleness and meanness. 
 
 One natural effect of this is a reserve and taciturnity 
 especially in the presence of strangers. Another is a slow- 
 ness, calmness and evident marks of deliberation in all 
 their movements. One traveler remarks that " that listless 
 indolence, equally dear to the uncivilized savage, and to 
 the degenerate slave of despotism,^ is nowhere more in- 
 dulged than in Spain. Thousands of men in all parts of 
 the realm, pass day after day, wrapt up in a cloak, stand- 
 ing in rows against a wall, or dozing under a tree. In 
 total want of every incitement to action, the springs of 
 their intellectual faculties forget to play, and their views 
 grow confined within the narrow sphere of mere existence. 
 The poor Spaniard does not work, unless urged by irresist- 
 able want, because he perceives no advantage from in- 
 dustry. E'aturally abstemious, his scanty fare is easily 
 procured; blessed with a warm climate, clothes are not 
 much an object." 
 
 If slowness be, as some contend, an element of progress, 
 the Spanish people ought to be preeminently progressive. 
 In political measures, in war, in all the operations of go- 
 vernment, in the common occurrences of life even, when 
 others act, they still deliberate. Mistrustful and circum- 
 spect, they fail by slowness where others do by precipita- 
 tion. There is little doubt that the arbitrary government 
 under which they have so long lived, and more especially 
 the inquisition, that for so many generations has sent its 
 system of espionage into every city and hamlet and 
 human habitation in Spain, have exercised a powerful in- 
 
 Mavofs Voyages, xiv, 186. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 87 
 
 fluence in implanting caution, reserve, and suspicion as 
 strong elements in the character of her people. 
 
 This fact becomes more apparent when we are informed 
 by intelligent travelers that the Spanish is by no means, 
 naturally, a serious, melancholy nation. That every village 
 resounds with the music of voices and guitars. That their 
 fairs and Sunday wakes are remarkably noisy and riotous. 
 That they talk louder and argue with more vehemence 
 than even the French or Italians,^ and gesticulate with 
 equal, if not superior eagerness. 
 
 Besides this tendency to gayety it has been remarked 
 that the Spaniard, though so slow and deliberate when 
 nothing extraordinary moves him, is, nevertheless, inflamed 
 to enthusiasm when his haughtiness, resentment, or any 
 of the passions which compose his character, are awakened 
 either by insult or opposition.^ Hence it is that the Spanish 
 nation, apparently the most grave, cold, and slow in Eu- 
 rope, sometimes becomes one of the most violent, when 
 circumstances deprive it of its habitual calm, and deliver it 
 up to the empire of imagination and passion. 
 
 The Spanish soldiers have always proved themselves 
 brave and patient of hardships. They follow without 
 flinching the lead of their officers, but they require their 
 example first to be set. 
 
 The Spaniards have well preserved their ancient virtues of 
 patience and sobriety. Through the first they are rendered 
 constant in their enterprises, and indefatigable in their 
 labors ; while the latter preserves them from excesses too 
 common in the more northern countries of Europe. 
 
 The relations between the sexes present a subject of 
 interest in the study of the Spaniard. Although travelers 
 do not perfectly agree in their statements, yet the young 
 Spanish lady is described as possessing great attractions. 
 '^ A face perfectly oval; hair of a fine clear auburn, equally 
 divided on the forehead, and only bound by a silk net ; 
 
 ^ Travels through Europe, iv, 20. "^ Idem, 20. 
 
88 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 large black eyes ; a mouth full of graces ; an attitude always 
 modest ; a simple habit of neat black serge/ exactly fitting 
 the body, and gently pressing the waist, a little hand per- 
 fectly proportioned; in fine, everything charms in these 
 youthful virgins." 
 
 The countenance of the Spanish women is extremely 
 sensible, and full of vivacity. They are generally small 
 in size, and thin, but have large sparkling black eyes, full 
 of expression. They talk rapidly, and are hasty, opinion- 
 ated and passionate, but easily yield to reason. They 
 never paint, as in France, and are endowed by nature 
 with a great deal of wit and lively repartee. At the same 
 time they have little talent, and that scarcely at all culti- 
 vated ; doing little, if anything, at working, reading, 
 writing, or even playing upon a musical instrument. 
 
 The human form, both of the male and female, in Spain, 
 is early developed. Females are reckoned marriageable 
 at twelve, and males at fourteen.^ Thus marriage is en- 
 tered into early, and with little reflection. The law denies 
 here the same extent or amount of veto power which it 
 usually gives in other countries. The only plea it admits 
 for a parent withholding his consent to the marriage, is 
 inferiority of birth, thus conceding to this single cir- 
 cumstance, an importance beyond bad conduct, disparity 
 of age, incompatibility of temper, and inequality of for- 
 tune. 
 
 In Spain, as in other purely catholic countries, marriage 
 is a sacrament, and taken in charge by the church. When 
 the parties declare in the presence of a priest, that they 
 take each other for husband and wife, the marriage is 
 considered legal, notwithstanding the nonpublication of 
 banns, and the opposition of parents. 
 
 Marriages in Valencia are attended with an enormous 
 expense, caused by a great display of extraordinary magni- 
 ficence. For some days previous to the ceremony, the 
 
 1 Travels through Europe, ty, 35. "^Marriage Rites, 136, 137. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 89 
 
 presents already received as well as those intended for her, 
 are publicly displayed to different companies as they come 
 in. The luxury in the wedding feasts, in the ball that 
 follows, and the equipages which are provided, is enormous 
 and expensive in the extreme. 
 
 There is a great deal of domestic unhappiness in Spain, 
 which is largely attributable to the fact that a great pro- 
 portion of the marriages take place so early in life that the 
 promptings of passion govern rather than the dictates of 
 reason. Jealousy was formerly a much more prevalent 
 passion among the Spaniards than it is at present. The 
 female sex now enjoys much more liberty than in former 
 times. The Saracens or Moors, who so long held domi- 
 nion over a large part of Spain, brought with them many 
 customs of the east, and among others, that of carefully 
 guarding the women from the public gaze. Married ladies 
 of quality were kept more retired in their houses than a 
 Carthusian in his cell.^ Many females of rank durst not 
 admit visitors without the permission of their husbands. 
 Married men seldom or never associated with their wives. 
 Even at table the husband sat down alone, while the wife 
 and children were seated cross-legged, after the oriental cus- 
 tom, on carpets or cushions spread upon the floor.^ The ordi- 
 nary occupations of the Spanish ladies were embroidery, the 
 society and conversation of their female attendants, and of 
 their dwarfs of both sexes, and their religious exercises.^ 
 The restraints thus imposed upon the Spanish ladies in- 
 creased in proportion to their rank and birth. 
 
 But this confinement, and these restraints have almost 
 entirely disappeared. l!^or is the same amount of jealousy 
 at present evidenced in the Spanish character. 
 
 The Spanish gallants are termed cortejos, and they are 
 similar to the cecisbeos of the Italians. Of them a total 
 sacrifice is required. They must give proofs of this at 
 all hours of the day,^ accompanying the lady to the public 
 
 ^ Meiners, iii, 8. * Idem, 10. ^ Idem, 12. * Travels through Europe, iv, 27. 
 VI] 12 
 
90 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 walk, the theatre, and even the confessional. Some in the 
 higher walks have more than one cortejos. One presides 
 over this amusement, another over that.^ ITor is it reput- 
 able for a lady to change her cortejos, retaining them some- 
 times until old age. 
 
 The Spanish are very fond of the dance, and possess 
 the greatest aptitude to excel in that art. Among them 
 dancing is considered as an essential part of their educa- 
 tion. Besides the dances of other countries they have 
 some peculiar to their own. Of these latter, one is the 
 sequidilla. 
 
 The figure here is formed by eight persons. A Spanish 
 female dancing the sequidilla, dressed in character, accom- 
 panying the instruments with castinets, and precisely 
 marking the measure with her heel,^ presents one of the 
 most seducing objects which love can employ to extend his 
 empire. 
 
 But the most celebrated dance peculiar to Spain, is the 
 fandango, which has been defined to be ''a very lively 
 dance, which the Spaniards have learned from the Indians." 
 
 There are two kinds of fandangos, although both are 
 danced to the same tune. The one is the decent dance ; 
 the other is gallant, full of expression ; and as a French 
 author expresses it,^ " is accompanied with certain attitudes 
 perpetually exhibiting an alluring picture of voluptuous 
 joy." It is danced by two persons only, who never touch 
 so much as the hand of each other. " When we view 
 their reciprocal allurements, their retreats and approaches, 
 when we observe the female, in the moment when her 
 languor announces an approaching defeat, suddenly ac- 
 quire new courage to escape from her conqueror, who 
 pursues her, and is pursued in his turn ; the manner in 
 which these emotions are expressed by their looks,^ ges- 
 tures, and attitudes, it is impossible not to confess that 
 
 ^Marriage Bites, 140. "^ Tramls tlirougli Europe, iv, 30. ^ Idem, 29. 
 ^Uem, 29. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 91 
 
 these scenes are, to the real combats of Cytherea, what 
 military evolutions in peace are, to the real display of the 
 art of war." 
 
 The Spaniards have their tertulias and refrescos ; ^ the 
 former very similar to those of France. The latter are 
 only light repasts, prepared for persons from whom visits 
 are received, and serve as a prelude to the tertulias. But 
 on certain great occasions, when a wedding, christening, 
 or birthday of the head of the family is to be celebrated, 
 the refresco becomes an important and a very expensive 
 affair. 
 
 After dinner, the Spaniards generally sleep for two or 
 three hours. This is termed the siesta, or afternoon nap, 
 and generally continues until two or three o'clock. Dur- 
 ing this time, the shops are shut in Madrid, and few 
 persons, except foreigners, are to be met with in the 
 streets.^ Their usual time for their visits, is in the even- 
 ing. They frequently take breakfast and supper in bed. 
 
 Beggars swarm in every part of Spain, and are as 
 troublesome as in Italy. There is also a great want of 
 cleanliness among the Spaniards. 
 
 The funerals are conducted much after the same man- 
 ner as in all catholic countries. The dead are borne to 
 the grave with their faces uncovered, preceded by a long 
 procession of priests and people, with lighted tapers in 
 their hands, singing psalms and litanies. The grandees are 
 dressed in their princely robes, and are buried in them.^ 
 The young and unmarried have a crown of artificial flowers 
 on their heads. The number of priests and tapers varies 
 with the wealth of the deceased. 
 
 They pay great respect to their' dead, strewing flowers 
 and holy water over their sepulchres.^ They suppose 
 each drop of holy water extinguishes so much of the fire 
 of purgatory. 
 
 ^Travels through Europe, 30, 83. "^Manners and Customs, ii, 64. 
 Travels through Europe, 1Y,^%. *Idem,dd. 
 
92 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Immediately after death, the next thing to be done is to 
 offer up masses for the repose of the soul, and its delivery 
 from purgatory. The devout desire to benefit departed 
 souls is universal in Spain. The masses a man appoints 
 to be said for him after his death, are privileged. His 
 sou] is preferred to his creditors.^ Philip Y provided by 
 his will that one hundred thousand masses should be said 
 in his behalf; but not supposing anywhere near so great a 
 number would be necessary to conduct his soul to heaven, 
 he very generously turned over all the surplus to the 
 benefit of those poor solitary souls that were thought very 
 little of while living, and still less when dead. 
 
 The Portuguese have manners and customs mostly simi- 
 lar to the Spaniards. They are neither so tall, nor so well 
 proportioned as the latter. Their women are beautiful 
 when young, their features regular, and their eyes black, 
 sparkling, and expressive, their brilliancy remaining after 
 many other charms are fled. They have great vivacity 
 of manner, their veins, according to Voltaire's opinion of 
 the ladies of southern climates,^ being filled with quick- 
 silver, while those of the northern are with milk. They 
 are perpetually dancing, singing, laughing, and talking, and 
 are sprightly and vivacious in the highest degree. In Por- 
 tugal^ all are in love from the day of their nativity to that 
 of their decease. Love, on the Tagus, is the predominating 
 passion. 
 
 An amusement which is almost peculiar to Spain and 
 Portugal is the bull fight. This savage sport seems to 
 have had its origin among the Eomaus, and to have been 
 a remnant of their gladiatorial displays.^ They were early 
 known in Italy, but it was reserved to the Spanish penin- 
 sula to render them perpetual. 
 
 These crowning scenes of the circus are performed with 
 great ceremony and excite immense interest. A flourish 
 of trumpets precedes the commencement of the combat. 
 
 1 Travels through Mirope, iv, 34. ^ Idem, 365. ^ Bell, u, 257, note. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 93 
 
 From a small hut, at the side of an area enclosed for the 
 purpose, the animal springs into the enclosure, runs around 
 every part of it, seeking in vain an avenue of escape. 
 Around him arranged on seats are twelve or fifteen hun- 
 dred persons, waving their handkerchiefs and hats,^ and 
 sending up their shouts of joy, which only has the eifect 
 still more to frighten or enrage him. He hounds from 
 side to side and makes his first attack upon the picadores, 
 prickers, whose pantaloons are lined with iron, and who 
 are armed with spears or lances, and mounted on horses. 
 The picadore receives him with a lance, and with its iron 
 point galls the bull, and renders him more furious. The 
 contest between the bull and picadores becomes more excit- 
 ing and dangerous, requiring great dexterity on the part 
 of the latter. The bull, through this contest, retains his 
 strength, and frequently unhorses the picadore, goring the 
 horse so that he falls dead on the arena. The horses 
 formerly used for these purposes were of the choicest kind, 
 but at present those of the most ordinary character are 
 made use of, the expectation and design being that some 
 of them shall be killed. 
 
 After the contest has been carried on sufficiently long be- 
 tween the bull and the picadores, and a sufficient number 
 of horses have been slain, the picadores retire, give place to 
 the chulos or tormentors, who are on foot, and carry with 
 them long scarlet scarfs. Theirs is the perilous task of 
 plunging the banderilla into the body of the animal at the 
 junction of the neck and shoulders. This is a small staff 
 about two feet long, furnished at one extremity with a bent 
 spike, while at the other are attached squibs and crackers. 
 The performances of the chulos are much aided by the 
 scarlet scarfs which they keep waving before the eyes of 
 the bull, thus creating constant deceptions, of which they 
 can take the advantage. These pedestrian chulos ap- 
 proach the animal with caution ; avoid all his attacks with 
 
 Malte Brim, viii, 93. 
 
94 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 agility and address ; and one of them fixes in his neck the 
 banderilla, or if he happens to fail by missing his mark, 
 he is wounded and tossed into the air by his furious adver- 
 sary. Tormented by the iron and the fire, the bull bel- 
 lows, bounds, turns and fights with desperate fury. 
 
 After the war with chulos has been waged a sufficient 
 length of time, and their arts of attack and defense are 
 exhausted, a flourish of trumpets announces the approach 
 of another enemy more formidable than any yet encount- 
 ered. This is the matadore, holding in one hand a sword 
 and in the other a flag, which he unfurls and, with it, 
 attracts the eye of the enraged animal. The bull has now 
 become considerably exhausted by loss of blood, and still 
 more by his excessive exertions against his various assail- 
 ants. He now approaches to his last encounter. Here is 
 a single conflict between the man and the bull, and hence 
 the office of the matadore is always regarded as one of peril. 
 The spectators now bestow their excited attention. The flag 
 being the most regarded by the bull he springs forward 
 towards that, and by so doing, passes under the left arm of 
 the matadore, who, with his right hand strikes the sword 
 into its withers, and separating two vertebrge, dispatches 
 his victim at a single blow. If he thus succeeds he is 
 hailed with the applauses of the whole assembly, but if he 
 so far fails to cause instant death as that the bull is enabled 
 before he dies to reach some other place than that prescribed 
 by the rules of art, hisses and groans are his only reward. 
 If the matadore misses his mark, and the bull kills him, 
 the people continue shouting bravo until he falls b}^ the 
 hand of another. 
 
 These sanguinary spectacles retain much of the barbar- 
 ous gallantry of the middle ages, and impress the stranger 
 with no very favorable idea of Spanish civilization. The 
 people in these cases are not generally satisfied until ten or 
 twelve bulls and about twenty horses have fallen, or at 
 least one matadore has lost his life. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 95 
 
 2. Society as it has developed, or is developing itself in 
 the Italian peninsula. 
 
 The Italian peninsula in several respects bears a resem- 
 blance to the Spanish : 
 
 First. I^ature has here, as in the Spanish peninsula, walled 
 it out from the rest of Europe. On the north she has 
 planted the Alps, which, more effectually than the Pyrenees, 
 shut out Italy from the continent to which it belongs. 
 
 Second. The people of the Italian peninsula, in like man- 
 ner with those of the Spanish, are diverse in origin and hence 
 variant in character. We have before had occasion to in- 
 quire as to the early ethnography of Italy, and have found 
 there in primitive periods many peoples of different origin 
 and character. Although under the Eoman sceptre, and 
 during its sway of centuries, these different peoples may 
 have attained to considerable uniformity of character, yet 
 when that sceptre came to be broken, the sudden inrush 
 of barbarians planted all over Italy a new and a strange 
 people. The Goth, the Lombard, the J^orman, and others of 
 different tribes, although of the same general character, car- 
 ried south of the Alps, and under the arch of Italian skies, 
 the customs, habits, and modes of life, reared and per- 
 fected amid the forests of Germany. Here was required a 
 second time the exercise of the amalgamating process, and 
 in the course of centuries this, together with other causes, 
 has brought about, in some respects, an uniformity of cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Third. The religious influences under which for a great 
 number of successive centuries the people of the two pen- 
 insulas have lived and have been similar. The same fasts, 
 feasts, and festivals, the same holy days, the same inquisi- 
 tion, although more stern and fearful in Spain, the same 
 cumbersome ceremonial encircling the being at his very 
 birth, and never for a single moment leaving him until, if 
 he have left sufficient means, he is fairly delivered out of 
 purgatory, must all tend in some degree to assimilate the 
 character of the peoples of the two peninsulas. 
 
96 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Fourth. The climate, soil and productions, all the phy- 
 sical influences under which life sustains its burdens, 
 discharges its responsibilities, and develops its powers, are 
 essentially the same upon both peninsulas. These probably 
 produce the greatest effect in the different quantities of 
 labor which are required for the purpose of continued 
 existence. A busy or an idle life may reasonably be ex- 
 pected to produce different habits, and even different man- 
 ners, customs and social forms. 
 
 Fifth. The same absolute form of government has gene- 
 rally on both peninsulas relieved the people from much 
 active interference in its concerns, and left them to spend 
 their time in such other matters and employments as they 
 could devise. All these things tend to render the inhabit- 
 ants of the two peninsulas similar in their character and 
 social developments, and yet in the midst of some things 
 that are common we shall find many entirely unlike. 
 
 Assuming that each one of these peninsulas presents a 
 people of a homogeneous character, the contrasts they pre- 
 sent to each other are less marked and peculiar than those 
 presented between each rcvspectively, and the people of 
 France. The French people constitute a kind of social 
 centre in Europe, and present many points of comparison, 
 mostly of contrast, with the people of surrounding nations. 
 In France, severe labor, strong passions, and, in some in- 
 stances, great wretchedness, wear out life much earlier than 
 in Italy, where heat blunts the appetite, so that they live 
 on little, where their habits are extremely temperate, their 
 thirst quenched by the cool waters descending from the 
 snows of the Apennines ; where the climate almost dis- 
 penses with the necessity of clothing; and sleep holds 
 much longer in its gentle embrace a people who spend 
 their days without care, and their nights without a thought 
 of the morrow. The Italians are little subject to disease, 
 the relaxation occasioned by heat preventing the chronic, 
 and the perspiration arising from the climate, avoiding 
 the acute. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 97 
 
 In regard to briskness and vivacity, the Italians very 
 much resemble the Spaniards, and contrast strongly with 
 the French. Although in the pulpit, on the theatre, and 
 even in conversation, the Italians practice a good deal of 
 action,^ yet ordinarily in their external deportment, they 
 have a grave solemnity of manner, serious, and at times 
 almost gloomy in its character. They move with a slow, 
 composed pace, apparently preferring the unconstrained atti- 
 tude of an antique statue, to the artificial graces of a French 
 dancing master, or the erect strut of a German soldier. 
 
 In regard to beauty, a style of face peculiar to its own 
 inhabitants is said to prevail in each different nation of 
 Europe. But this must of course be greatly varied, and 
 marked with every degree of discrimination between the 
 extremes of beauty and ugliness. 
 
 The Italian female head presents a great profusion of 
 dark hair, sometimes so encroaching upon the forehead as 
 to render it short and narrow ; the nose either aquiline or 
 continued in a straight line from the lower part of the 
 brow ; the upper lip full and short ; the eyes large, and of 
 a sparkling black. The Italian eye is wonderfully expres- 
 sive, but it labors under one disadvantage and that is, as 
 the iris and pupil have the same color, the contraction and 
 dilatation of the latter is little seen by which the eye is 
 abridged of half its powers. The complexion is of a clear 
 brown, sometimes fair, but very seldom florid, or of that 
 bright fairness which is common in England and Saxony. 
 
 J^ature, it is said, could not place more happily ,2 nor 
 accord with more effect, the forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, 
 chin, ears and neck, than in the Eoman women ; she could 
 not possibly employ purer, softer, or more correct forms ; 
 all the distinct parts are finished, and the whole is com- 
 plete. And yet, although nature has endowed the Roman 
 woman with so much beauty of form, and proportion, and 
 complexion, yet she has denied her those fugitive graces 
 
 ^ Travels through Europe, 1, 12. ^ Idem, 16. 
 VI] 13 
 
98 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 that give so much charm and attraction. The eyes have 
 but one look^ the mouth but one smile. The brow is one 
 of marble, of unvarying aspect, disclosing the footprints 
 neither of pleasure nor of pain. The beautiful features, 
 although moulded upon a classic model, are yet deficient 
 in those gentle undulations and infinite diversity of move- 
 ments that proclaim the power of sentiment and emotion. 
 The highest ^style of beauty is found only in those features 
 that are thoroughly permeated by a soul. 
 
 The Roman beauty fades early and rapidly. Unsustained 
 by the power of mind and soul, never cultivated by exer- 
 cise, overwhelmed with sleep, the features soon become 
 plump, and the whole form loses its proportion. Besides 
 it is kept too much shut up, and in the shade, to continue 
 its full bloom. 
 
 That part of Italy which most resembles fable land is 
 Venice. A city in the sea, whose streets are long canals of 
 water, whose carriages are gondolas, presents both to the 
 eye and ear a miracle of wonder, l^o rattling carriage, no 
 clatter of hoof, or hardly sound of footstep greets the ear. 
 Nought but the noiseless dip of the oar, and the arrow- 
 like speed of the gondola, redeem many parts of. Venice 
 from being to all appearance a city of the dead. And yet 
 here are the remains of that wealth that was once garnered 
 up from every quarter of the world. 
 
 Once a year, on Ascension day, was performed the cere- 
 mony of marrying the Adriatic to the doge. The morning 
 was ushered in by the ringing of bells and the firing of 
 cannon. About noon the doge, attended by a numerous 
 party of the senate and clergy, goes on board the Bucentaur, 
 round which a number of splendid yachts and gondolas 
 row, with bands of music, to St. Lido, a small island about 
 two miles from Venice. Prayers are then said, after which 
 the doge drops a plain gold ring into the sea, with these 
 words, ^' Desponsamus te mare, in signum veri, perpetuiique 
 dominii." '^ We espouse thee, oh sea, in sign of true and 
 perpetual dominion. " And the sea, like a modest bride, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 99 
 
 of course assents by silence, and thus the espousal is ren- 
 dered complete. 
 
 The Venetians are a lively, ingenious people, extrava- 
 gantly fond of public amusements, with an uncommon relish 
 for humor, and yet more attached to the real enjoyments of 
 life, than to those which depend on ostentation. They are 
 in general tall and well naade, with a ruddy brown color 
 and dark eyes. The common people are remarkably sober, 
 obliging to strangers, and gentle in their intercourse with 
 each other. The women exhibit a tine style of countenance 
 with expressive features, and a skin of a rich carnation. 
 
 The Venetians are extremely, fond of theatrical plays, of 
 regattas or rowing matches, entering most heartily into 
 the follies and entertainments of the carnival. Their dis- 
 guises give occasion to many love adventures ; and there 
 is said to be something much more intriguing in the amours 
 of Venice than in those of other countries. During the 
 festivals, riot, debauchery, and licentiousness are carried 
 to the greatest excess. 
 
 The Venetian ladies are amorously inclined ; and having 
 little check upon inclination, each is very much governed 
 by immediate impulse. They have no resources of study, 
 no duties of family management, and hence very little of a 
 serious, useful character to occupy their time. They 
 were formerly kept much in confinement, but now enjoy a 
 great degree of freedom. There seems to be a great revo- 
 lution wrought in Venetian husbands. They have, to a 
 large extent, banished from Venetian gallantry not only 
 jealousy, but also poison and the stiletto, having substituted 
 in their places the innocent mask. Those who walk the 
 streets, or go to the play houses with masks actually cover- 
 ing their faces, are either engaged in some love intrigue, or 
 would have others think so, for some desire that reputa- 
 tion, whether actually meriting it or not. 
 
 The Venetian courtesans have, at times, enjoyed the 
 special protection of government. Very many, if not the 
 most of these, are sold by their friends in their infancy. 
 
100 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The agreement of sale is reduced to writing, specifying 
 the sum to be paid, and the time at which the young lady 
 is to be delivered up. All this is done before a notary 
 public and stands valid in a court of justice. 
 
 Among the Roman women love is a passion possessed of 
 great power. It is with them a matter of business or 
 caprice, but is soon worn out. Their heart loves the 
 instant it arrives at maturity. The subject of love, like 
 the weather, forms a common place topic of conversation. 
 When the daughter does not eat or sleep, the mother speaks 
 of her as having a fit of love as if it were a fit of disease, 
 as a fever. 
 
 The girls employ their early youth in practicing, under 
 the maternal eye, the lessons they have received on the art 
 of catching a husband.^ But in this they are often foiled, 
 as the men are found on their guard. The most notorious 
 gallantry does not seem to affect their reputation. 
 
 But it has been remarked that we look in vain among 
 the women for that tenderness of heart which penetrates, 
 satisfies, and enchants ; that intimate and secret life, the 
 mutual bliss of two lovers ; that tenderness which forms a 
 pleasure of pain, which delights in sacrifices, and increases 
 by enjoyment ; that moral love which, if it does not enchain 
 or govern the physical passion, at least decorates and veils 
 it. 'Nor is there here found those two delightful kinds of 
 friendship between the sexes, the one of which succeeds to 
 love, the other imitates it, and both of which so closely re- 
 semble it as to be often mistaken for it. 
 
 •But a lady speaking of Italian gentlemen says : " ]N"othing 
 can exceed the agreeableness of a well bred Italian's ad- 
 dress,^ when speaking to a lady, whom they alone know 
 how to flatter, so as to retain her dignity, and not to lose 
 their own; respectful, yet tender; attentive, not officious. 
 The politeness of a man of fashion here is true politeness ; 
 free from all affectation, and honestly expressive of what he 
 
 ^ Trawls through Europe, i, 34. ^ Idem, 21. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 101 
 
 really feels, a true value for the person spoken to, without 
 the smallest desire of shining himself; equally removed 
 from foppery on one side or indifference in the other." ^ 
 
 The Italians are accounted the greatest loungers in the 
 world. While walking in the fields, or stretched listlessly 
 in the shade, they seem to enjoy the serenity and genial 
 warmth of their climate with luxurious indulgence. They 
 neither run into the excesses of the English, or display the 
 great frisky vivacity of the French, or the invincible 
 phlegm of the German.^ They discover a species of sedate 
 sensibility to every source of enjoyment from which they 
 seemingly derive a large share of happiness. 
 
 Society is on a very agreeable footing in Florence. Be- 
 sides the converzationes which are enjoyed here as in other 
 towns in Italy, the nobility are in the habit of meeting 
 daily at the casino. This meeting much resembles the 
 clubs in London. They employ themselves in playing 
 various games, as billiards, cards, etc., or converse the 
 whole evening just as they think proper. Women as well 
 as men are admitted members.^ 
 
 The Sicilians are very animated in conversation, and 
 their action so expressive of their sentiments that without 
 hearing the language used, a person may comprehend the 
 subject of their discourse.^ The Sicilian ladies are sprightly 
 and agreeable, have remarkable fine hair and adorn it to 
 the greatest advantage. They are amorous, marry young, 
 and frequently live to see the fifth or even sixth genera- 
 tion. 
 
 l!^aples, the fabled product of the siren, has never belied 
 its origin. The people here have few avocations of busi- 
 ness to excite their activity; no public walks or gardens to 
 which they can resort, and are, therefore, far more fre- 
 quently than elsewhere, seen sauntering and conversing 
 in the streets. In the streets of other great European 
 cities the noise of carriages falls with its ceaseless din upon 
 
 ' Travels through Europe, i, 31. ""Idem, 34. ^Idem, 206-7. ^Idem, 377-8. 
 
102 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the ear, but in l^aples it is that of human voices. "Whole 
 streets are full of talkers, the aggregated clack of whose 
 voices fairly drown the noise of carriages. And yet 
 although almost all the people are in the streets, and all 
 talking to the very top of their voices, there are very few 
 riots or outrages that ever happen in !N'aples. This arises 
 from two causes, one the national character of the Italians, 
 which is quiet, submissive, and averse to all kinds of riot 
 and sedition. The other cause is to be found in the fact 
 that the common people are universally sober, never being 
 inflamed with strong and spirituous liquors, as they are in 
 the northern countries.^ This latter characteristic may be 
 said to extend through all the southern countries of Europe, 
 and this fact goes very far to show that God has adapted 
 the tastes of men to the necessities of their physical organ- 
 izations. Did the same tastes in this respect prevail at the 
 south as at the north, the greater heat of the climate, the 
 finer organization, and the higher nervous susceptibility 
 of the people, would undoubtedly drive them on to excesses 
 which might entirely depopulate the whole region. In 
 ISTaples, iced water and lemonade, carried about in little 
 barrels, and sold in small quantities for the merest trifle, 
 are among the luxuries of the very lowest of the people. 
 
 It is in IsTaples that we meet with the Lazzaroni, a very 
 numerous class of people, computed at more than thirty 
 thousand, the far greater part of whom have neither home 
 nor fixed habitation. Favored by a climate the most benign, 
 they spend their days in the street, and their nights under 
 porticos, piazzas, or any kind of shelter they can find. 
 Some of them fish, others carry burdens, but in general 
 they will engage in no labor except under the spur of neces- 
 sity, and whenever driven to it will relapse into their 
 former indolence as soon as they have earned suflOlcient to 
 buy a few slices of melon, or some macearoni. They are 
 the very princes of loungers, and more commonly are exhi- 
 
 Travels through Eui'ope, i, 327. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 103 
 
 bited half naked in the streets. The dress of all the lower 
 people is miserable, and yet quite picturesque, consisting 
 principally of a brown cloak thrown over the shoulders 
 in graceful folds. These classes very seldom taste butcher 
 meat, but subsist almost entirely upon fruit, onions, vege- 
 tables and fish. 
 
 A full knowledge of the manners and customs of the 
 Italians cannot be had without a brief consideration of the 
 carnival. This is an annual religious festival, some traces 
 of which may be found in all catholic countries, but it is 
 more especially celebrated among the Italians, and in the 
 cities of Venice and Rome, more than in other cities of 
 Italy. It has been less celebrated in Venice for some 
 years past, so that Rome, in this respect, has become the 
 great centre of interest. The eight days preceding Ash 
 "Wednesday are given up to its festivities. They are held 
 principally in the corso, a street about a mile in length, 
 very narrow, and lined with lofty houses having over-hang- 
 ing balconies. These approach so near to each other, that 
 persons on opposite balconies are not only brought within 
 speaking distance, but are enabled to exchange bouquets and 
 sugar plums. All these balconies, upon carnival days, are 
 crowded with men and women, many of the latter gayly 
 dressed. In the street below numerous carriages are in 
 motion, filled with gay parties, while crowds of pedestrians 
 masked, and clad in every variety of costume, are playing all 
 kinds of pranks that come within the bounds of decency. 
 Among the masks are punchinellos with enormous noses, 
 and protuberant backs and stomachs ; harlequins in parti- 
 colored vestments, wielding daggers of lath ; quack doc- 
 tors with long catalogues of nostrums for all imaginable 
 diseases, and lawyers gowned and wigged, some after a 
 most strange and grotesque fashion. Bonbons and con- 
 fetti are thrown down from the balconies, and persons 
 become so covered from head to foot, as to resemble 
 millers. The natural gravity of the Roman citizens becomes 
 suddenly changed into the extreme of mirthful vivacity, 
 
104 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 and every kind of amusement is followed witli the greatest 
 eagerness, l^o theatrical entertainments are permitted in 
 Rome, except during the carnival, and then they are 
 pushed to excess, as if to make amends for their long 
 privation. The carnival is altogether of six weeks' con- 
 tinuance, but it only becomes extremely intensified during 
 the last eight days. Then all classes enter into it, and the 
 outbursts of humor spread to men, women, and children, 
 descending to the lowest ranks and becoming universal. 
 Even those who are unmasked, reject their usual clothes, 
 and assume some whimsical dress. Young people are 
 found assuming the long beard, tottering step, and other 
 concomitants of old age, while the aged choose the bib 
 and rattle of childhood. At -Qrve o'clock, p. m., commence 
 the horse races. The horses have no riders, but are urged 
 forward by metal balls, full of sharp points, which are 
 fastened to the trappings, and which pierce the more the 
 greater the speed. To these the crowd in the corso give 
 way, and they rush over the pavement as if animated by 
 personal passions. In the evening the windows are all 
 illuminated. There is probably no more perfect sample 
 of bedlam anywhere to be found, than Rome during the 
 last eight days of the carnival. It is so called from carni 
 vale, farewell to meat, as from Ash Wednesday, the first 
 day of lent, there is a strict abstinence from all eating of 
 meat for forty days. 
 
 At Rome there are reckoned three classes of persons, 
 the pope, the clergy, and the people.^ The secular and 
 regular clergy are reckoned at a sixth of the entire popula- 
 tion. The character of the people is described as possess- 
 ing little reason, a tolerable share of wit, and a great deal 
 of imagination. Rome is one of the few places in Europe in 
 which the onward march of time dispenses habits without 
 bestowing experience. The Roman people have lost their 
 identity. Every house in Rome on which a cardinal has 
 
 * Travels through Europe, i, 393. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 105 
 
 placed his arms, becomes a place of refuge for creditors 
 against judicial executions.^ These asylums are very num- 
 erous, and not unfrequently made a traffic of by some of 
 the cardinals. Impunity from the payment of debts is a 
 source of revenue at Rome. 
 
 There is one custom remaining to be noticed, which has 
 no doubt largely influenced the social life of the Italians. 
 I mean that embraced in cicisbeism. Formerly married 
 women were under great restraint in Italy, owing to the 
 jealousy of their husbands. When the free manners of 
 France came to prevail, these unnatural restraints required 
 modification or abandonment. The compromise made was 
 that the wife should go into public under the guidance of 
 a friend of the husband's choosing.^ Thus a married 
 woman appeared in public leaning on the arm of a man, 
 who, from their frequently whispering together, was called 
 her cicisbeo. It was, at the same time, stipulated that the 
 lady while abroad should converse with no other man but 
 in his presence, and with his approbation. 
 
 In process of time, however, as might reasonably be 
 expected, the lady came to have something to say relative 
 to the choice of her cicisbeo, and hence from the husband's 
 it came to be the wife's friend who was the object of 
 choice. In many instances, he was a poor relation or hum- 
 ble friend, who, by this means, procured an admission into 
 society, and was carried about to public diversions as an 
 appendage to the lady. 
 
 The cicisbeo visits the lady at her toilet, and, having 
 arranged the plan of passing the evening, retires before 
 dinner. It is usual all over Italy for the husband and 
 wife to dine together except on great occasions, as on that 
 of a public feast. After dinner the husband retires and 
 the cicisbeo returns, and, taking possession of the lady, con- 
 ducts her to the public walk, the converzatione, the opera, 
 or other place of amusement. He tends upon her with 
 
 ^ Travels through Europe, i, 291. "^Mmor, xvii, 131. 
 VI] 14 
 
106 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the most pointed assiduity until the amusements of the 
 evening are over. He then accompanies her home and 
 delivers up his charge to the husband. The husband is 
 also generally eugaged in a similar manner, and both re- 
 sign their charges when the business of the evening is over. 
 
 This custom, so similar to the cortejos of Spain, has 
 prevailed the most extensively in Genoa, although its in- 
 fluence has been felt all over Italy. It is now somewhat in 
 a state of decay. It has given rise to much scandal, and 
 in some instances undoubtedly with good reason, but the 
 wholesale charges that have been made against it have 
 generally been considered as without adequate foundation. 
 
 It is a matter of no little surprise how men, both in Spain 
 and Italy, can pass so much of their time with women. 
 But the answer which is substantially the same in both is 
 quite satisfactory. The mild climate and great fertility of 
 soil render labor and business very little necessary for the 
 support of life. The nobility dare not intermeddle in 
 politics. They find, in Italy, no employment in the army 
 or navy. They have no hunting amusements, and their 
 temperance forbids all those that arise out of drinking. 
 Gaming it is true, is an avenue into which some rush to 
 avoid the ennui of mere existence. But that is but a 
 single avenue, and all have not a turn for gaming. JSTor 
 may those who have, desire to be thus constantly occupied. 
 Under all these circumstances it must cease to surprise 
 that so many are driven to the company and conversation 
 of women to lighten the burdens which time lays so heavily 
 upon them. 
 
 3. Society as it has developed, or is developing itself in 
 Switzerland. 
 
 The primitive inhabitants of Switzerland were the 
 ancient Helvetii. At the fall of the western Roman empire 
 the Alemanni, Burgundians and Ostrogoths took posses- 
 sion of the almost depopulated country, permitting the 
 aborigines, the Helvetians, to retain their customs and 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 107 
 
 laws. These latter are supposed to have sprung from a 
 very ancient branch of the Celtic race. By means of their 
 intermixture with the former, the GTerman element came 
 largely to predominate.^ There are exceptions to this, how- 
 ever, in the inhabitants of the canton of Tessin, who are 
 of Italian descent, and also in those of the canton of 
 Geneva, who are of French lineage. 
 
 In the latter, the city of Geneva is much celebrated. 
 Education is there cheap and liberal, and the citizens of 
 both sexes are remarkably well instructed. Even mechan- 
 ics in the intervals of their labor are said to amuse them - 
 selves with the works of Locke, Montesquieu andJl^ewton.^ 
 
 There is here one peculiar and very excellent custom. 
 Parents form societies for their children at a very early 
 period of their lives. These societies consist of ten, twelve, 
 or more children of the same sex, and nearly of the same 
 age and situation in life. They assemble once a week in 
 the houses of their respective parents, who entertain them 
 with tea, coffee, biscuits and fruit, and then leave them to 
 indulge in free conversation. This connection, thus early 
 commenced, is strictly kept up through the whole of life, 
 whatever changes may occur in individual circumstances. 
 To their latest hours, they continue to pass some evenings 
 every year with the companions and friends of their youth.^ 
 Such a fraternity, thus early established, and life-long in its 
 continuance, is both delightful and instructive. 
 
 During several months every year a large number of 
 citizens are much occupied in firing at a mark which is 
 placed at a proper distance, and the most expert marksman,^ 
 after a sufficient number of trials, is declared king, before 
 whom a mock battle was fought with great spirit by two 
 nearly equal bodies of troops. 
 
 The Swiss are an interesting subject of study. Shut 
 out from the rest of Europe by the mountain barriers by 
 
 ^ Iconograpliic Encyclopedia, in, 153. ^ Mavor, xvi, 202, 203. ^ Idem, 204. 
 *J<Zm, 205>206. 
 
108 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 which they are surrounded, their homes planted amid 
 scenery that reveals to the beholder visions of terror and 
 sublimity, their intercourse is more with nature than with 
 man, and the character reared under such influences is a 
 matter of curious investigation. The true Swiss character 
 is found the most clearly displayed in the forest cantons, 
 amid the recesses of the Alps. In Glacis, for instance, the 
 antiquated manners of its inhabitants, and their still more 
 ancient habitations,^ render it like a place of the fifteenth 
 century. The date of their construction is marked on 
 almost all the houses, and some of them have stood more 
 than Ryq hundred years. They are painted with various 
 colors, and on many of them historical events are repre- 
 sented. The streets are crooked and narrow, and the lofty 
 mountains shut out the sun ; except for about four hours 
 each day. 
 
 Much of Switzerland is inhabited by shepherds and 
 husbandmen. These are far removed from the sphere of 
 ambition and intrigue, and apparently are leading a very 
 quiet and peaceful life amid their mountain seclusion. 
 They appear honest, simple, and possessed of much moral 
 purity. Biit all that is probably overrated, as well as the 
 enviable degree of happiness they are supposed to enjoy. 
 The traveler who visits them in the most favorable season 
 of the year, himself impressed by the grandeur of the 
 scenery by which he is surrounded, finding himself the 
 subject of new sensations and emotions, looks with a 
 charmed eye upon all the people, and naturally transfers 
 to them those qualities and virtues which he supposes those 
 extraordinary physical influences would tend to produce. 
 But there is no doubt a simplicity and honesty there pre- 
 vailing far in advance of most, if not all, other European 
 countries. But neither in Switzerland, nor in other coun- 
 tries do we find ignorance and poverty united with high 
 moral qualities. In some of the cantons, however, where 
 
 1 Malte Brun, vii, 574. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 109 
 
 education is diffused, and industry and commerce have 
 become sources of wealth, the people are contented and 
 happy. 
 
 The Swiss have little taste for general society.^ Hence they 
 have few social habits, and little that is purely artificial. 
 The men meet to converse, smoke, and walk about. The 
 usages of society hang so lightly about them, and so great 
 is the simplicity of manners, that it is not difficult to dis- 
 cover the character of the individual, almost at the first 
 interview. There is a great diversity of physiognomies 
 among people of every age, but more especially in the 
 yonng ; there is an extreme mobility of feature ; and their 
 expressions are characterized by ingenuousness and vivacity. 
 
 But what is lacking in general society is probably more 
 than made up in other ways. It is not too much to sup- 
 pose that their converse with nature is a source of much 
 quiet enjoyment. But aside from this, the Swiss enter 
 more largely into a realization of home pleasures. It is 
 too often the case, that these, and those of general society, 
 bear to each other an inverse ratio. Domestic happiness, 
 conjugal and parental affections, as well as the other virtues 
 of private life, are far more common in Switzerland, than 
 in countries where social pleasures are better understood, 
 and where the feelings are less concentrated. 
 
 The Swiss are generally tall, well proportioned, active 
 and laborious. Bravery, love of labor, attachment to 
 their country, and respect for ancient customs and in- 
 stitutions, form the principal features in the national cha- 
 racter : 
 
 Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, 
 And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; 
 And, as a child, when scaring sounds molest, 
 Clings close and closer to the mother's breast ; 
 So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 
 But bind him to his native mountains more. 
 
 ^Malte Brun, vii, 567; 
 
110 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The mass of tlie people are more enlightened than in 
 other countries; in some of the cantons, not only the 
 wealthy, but the peasantry also, cultivate literature and 
 the arts. A general simplicity of manners, an open and 
 unaffected frankness, and an invincible spirit of freedom 
 characterizes the inhabitants of most of the cantons. Dif- 
 ferent costumes, of which the origin is very ancient, dis- 
 tinguish the people in most of the cantons. In several, 
 sumptuary laws have been introduced, to banish all the 
 tendencies to luxury. G-ames of chance are prohibited, 
 but gymnastic exercises are the daily amusements of the 
 young. They employ themselves frequently in the race, in 
 wrestling, in throwing the dart, or in shooting at a target. 
 
 The cleanliness of the houses and the people, are pecu- 
 liarly striking. In the city of Berne the streets, and every 
 part of the city, are kept thoroughly clean by the numer- 
 ous fountains and limpid streams which water it. In the 
 country the original simplicity of the pastoral life is still 
 preserved, and one often meets with venerable figures with 
 long beards resembling the pictures of the ancient patriarchs. 
 There is great frankness of manner, and a fund of original 
 humor. They are remarkable for quickness of repartee, 
 and rude sallies of wit. There prevails among them great 
 equality, not only political, but in many places also of con- 
 dition.^ The houses are built of wood, large, solid and 
 compact, with great pent-house roofs, that hang very low 
 and extend beyond the area of the foundation. This pecu- 
 liar structure serves to keep off the snow, and accords well 
 with the beautiful wildness of the country. 
 
 So very great is the simplicity prevailing in some remote 
 parts of Switzerland, that neither attorney nor notary is to 
 be found there,^ and contracts instead of being written on 
 parchment, are inscribed on pieces of wood. There are 
 there neither locks, thieves, nor pilferers. In one of the 
 forest cantons, on each side of the road, are to be found 
 
 Manners and Customs, ii, 83. ^ Idem, 85. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. HI 
 
 several ranges of shops uninhabited,^ yet filled with various 
 goods of which the prices are marked. Those desiring to 
 become purchasers enter the shops, take away the mer- 
 chandise and deposit the price, which the owners call for 
 in the evening. 
 
 A very remarkable circumstance attending the city of 
 Berne is, that it contains a particular street in which, until 
 recently or even at the present time, the inhabitants enjoy 
 the privilege of acquitting or condemning any one of their 
 own body in aflairs of life and death ; ^ and as every indi- 
 vidual who resides in it possesses the right of voting on 
 these occasions, houses are there considerably more valu- 
 able than in other quarters of the town. 
 
 In that part of Switzerland called the Yallais, idiots and 
 those afflicted with the goitres are frequently to be met 
 with. The latter are large excrescences of flesh that grow 
 from the throat, and often increase to an enormous size. 
 Idiocy also often abounds among these. The same causes 
 probably operate to produce both, but what they are seems 
 never to have been very well understood. According to 
 some accounts the idiots meet with great respect among 
 the people,^ being considered as blessings from heaven. 
 This is very probably confined to the lower classes of peo- 
 ple. They call them " souls of God without sin," and are 
 often preferred by their parents before their other children, 
 because they are incapable of intentional criminality, and 
 are therefore considered certain of future happiness. 
 
 4. Society as it has developed or is developing itself 
 among the German nations. 
 
 The valleys of the Ehine, the Weser, the Elbe, the Oder, 
 and the upper Danube, are peopled by the German race. 
 The descendants of the old Teutonic stock are still found 
 in the homes of their ancestors. Their country, occupying 
 the centre of Europe, presents great variety in its surface, 
 
 ■Manners and Customs, ii, 85. "^ Idem, 87. ^ Idem, 94. 
 
112 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 diversity in its soil, and difference in its physical aspects 
 and influences. The different stocks into which the old 
 Teutonic race have become divided are so far modified, or 
 variant from each other, as to be well adapted to the con- 
 ditions under which they exist. 
 
 There is but little strong feeling of race existing among 
 the Germans. This great country, with its teeming popu- 
 lation, after sending off so many swarms of emigrants, is 
 far from presenting any true unity either in itself or its 
 people. It presents, and has through all the centuries, a 
 strange instance of a people essentially one, and yet so 
 split up into different principalities, powers, and nations, 
 as to have their sympathies, and almost communications 
 with each other, limited to the subjects of the king, elector 
 or landgrave under whose sway they lived. It is owing to 
 this strange political anomaly that the power of the Ger- 
 man has been so little directly felt in Europe. The man- 
 ners, customs, and social life of the German have been 
 very considerably modified by it. 
 
 A love of liberty has ever been a strong characteristic of 
 the German mind, and yet Germany has, for many centuries, 
 been divided into a great number of little petty principali- 
 ties, in which the sovereigns, in attempting to ape those of 
 larger domains, have been necessarily compelled to oppress 
 their subjects, fettering all their energies by subjecting them 
 to a grievous load of taxation. This applies more espe- 
 cially in those earlier divisions known as the marquisate of 
 Brandenburg, Pomerania, Lusatia, Moravia, Bohemia and 
 Austria.^ In the free imperial cities, the burghers gene- 
 rally enjoy great privileges, and the peasants in some 
 portions of the country, as on the Rhine and in Franconia, 
 have been much less oppressed than in others. The politi- 
 cal condition of a people always exerts a strong infiuence 
 upon their manners, customs, and the spirit lying at the 
 foundation of their social life. 
 
 ^Tra/oeU througJi Europe, ir, 39, 30. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 113 
 
 The modern Germans have large heads, with the ante- 
 rior part of the cranium elevated and fully developed/ 
 This peculiarity of form exists in them in a greater degree 
 than either the French or English. Their intellectual 
 power is great, especially the reflective. They love re- 
 search, and profound investigation. They have a strong 
 moral sense, a deep love of truth and rectitude, unshaken 
 fidelity, veneration for the female sex, and attachment to 
 the ruling princes. They have ever been esteemed an 
 honest, hospitable people, free from artifice and disguise, 
 open and social in their general manner. They are natu- 
 rally phlegmatic and saturnine, requiring very little variety, 
 and enduring the languid uniformity of life always with 
 patience, and often with satisfaction. 
 
 The German character exhibits nothing of the fire of 
 the south, and little of the elasticity that prevails in more 
 southern climes. It is distinguished by no nicety of taste, 
 by no rapidity in the movement of its elements. It lacks, 
 also, the duplicity that too frequently characterizes the move- 
 ments of the southern mind. But it possesses sterling 
 qualities.^ The frame is powerful ; the features strongly 
 marked; the hair mostly blonde; the eyes blue or gray; 
 the carriage firm and sedate ; the manner fij^ed and de- 
 termined. 
 
 The ladies have generally fine complexions, and some 
 of them, especially in Saxony, possess great delicacy of 
 feature and shape. Although the French exhibit more 
 expression in the countenance, yet the Germans have the 
 advantage in the fairness of their skin, and the bloom of 
 their complexion. 
 
 The Germans are great smokers and drinkers. It is 
 a most wise provision of Providence, that the strong 
 taste for stimulating liquors should be limited, in a great 
 degree, to the old Teutonic stock; to men of large bodies 
 
 ^ Prichard, iii, 393. "^IconogrofpMc Bemew, iii, 131. 
 VI] 15 
 
114 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 and phlegmatic temperament, whose powers, both of body 
 and mind, are so slow, as to render a resort to stimulants 
 often salutary, and seldom injurious, unless indulged in to 
 excess. 
 
 The common people are laborious and honest, but slow 
 and heavy ; ^ the merchants, fair in their dealings, hospita- 
 ble and complaisant ; the nobility, men of great honor, 
 but valuing themselves very greatly upon birth and family. 
 All the sons of noblemen inherit their fathers' titles, and 
 this, while it is agreeable to a sense of justice, and does 
 credit to the German feeling, at the same time greatly 
 perplexes the heralds and genealogists of that country. 
 Many of the princes being poor, their younger sons often 
 engage in the service of the emperor, the electors, or some 
 sovereign state ; or procure some of the ecclesiastical pre- 
 ferments so numerous in catholic countries. 
 
 Germany has always been divided into numerous politi- 
 cal divisions. At one period the number of these was 
 about three hundred. At present they number about 
 thirty-six. They have been subject to great changes. 
 
 Each political division must of course have its court, its 
 palace, its officers, its standing army. All this requires a 
 heavy amount of taxation upon the people. 
 
 The feudal system has probably lingered longer, and left 
 in the social fabric more remains in Germany than in any 
 other country of Europe. The castle-crowned hills that 
 mark the course of the Rhine, more strongly perhaps than 
 other parts of Germany, proclaim the strongholds of the 
 feudal barons. One of the consequences of the firm esta- 
 blishment and long continuance of the system was the 
 extension of serfdom over almost the whole of Germany. 
 Wherever this prevails a barrier is erected between the 
 ownership and the cultivation of lands, between idleness 
 and labor. The first reaps where it has not sowed ; the 
 second sows where it cannot reap. That great natural law 
 
 ^Travels through Europe, ii, 29. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. ^ 115 
 
 that should award to labor the result of its own toils is 
 most signally violated. But although down-trodden for 
 centuries yet its self-assertion must in the end prevail. 
 
 Men have everywhere the strongest desire to own the 
 land upon which they labor. This desire has lain at the 
 foundation of many a great political revolution. The 
 French revolution was stimulated by it. All over Europe, 
 with the exception of Great Britain, the last half century 
 has been witnessing the abolition of serfdom, until it may 
 now perhaps be said to be confined principally to Russia, 
 and even there to be in the process of abolition. 
 
 Under the feudal system, or as a result of it, the land 
 was possessed by a class of nobles who held the peasants 
 on their estates as serfs. These nobles alone in the greater 
 part of Grermany could hold and purchase land that was 
 free from servitude. The peasant holdings, or feud lands, 
 which were held under services, often of a personal and 
 degrading kind, were the only landed estates that a capi- 
 talist, not of noble birth, could purchase or hold.^ 
 
 The first step towards giving freedom to the German 
 serf, was taken in 1807, but it was not until 1810 that their 
 freedom was secured.^ The object first sought was to 
 secure to the feud-holding peasantry the possession of their 
 lands, they rendering rent for their use.^ This served to 
 legalize their claim. The next step was to include the 
 serfs who lived on the outskirts of the land, and who paid 
 for the use of the small patches they cultivated by their 
 daily labor. Then came the final measure, rendering them 
 absolute proprietors of their several holdings and patches 
 upon conditions so easy as almost to render them free gifts 
 to all. This was more especially the course of things in 
 Prussia, next to Austria, the most leading of all the Ger- 
 man states. But most of the other German states soon 
 followed the example, and thus came such a multitude of 
 small proprietors and little patch-work fields throughout 
 
 ^ Peasant Life in Germany , 56. '^ Idemf 55. .^ Idem, 57. 
 
116 . HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 all Germany.^ It was not until the year 1821, that th5 
 bondage of serfdom was completely removed. 
 
 This abrogation of signorial rights, which had been 
 recognized for centuries, required the strong exercise of 
 despotic power to effect, and probably any power less than 
 despotic would have failed to accomplish. The result was 
 to elevate the serf into the proprietor, without, however, 
 giving him political rights, while a large body of the 
 aristocracy, deprived of their income, were reduced to 
 a very uncomfortable situation. This has given rise to 
 commotion and change among the social elements of 
 Germany. 
 
 A problem of no inconsiderable importance presented 
 itself in the inquiry as to what should be done with the 
 great numbers thus deprived of their subsistence. It was 
 finally solved by their employment as government officials, 
 and hence the swarms of these dignitaries, that are found 
 in every German court. Their dependence is immediately 
 upon the king or head of the state from whom they receive 
 their appointment, and whose interests, therefore, they are 
 bound to subserve. Their support is wrung by heavy 
 taxation from the pockets of the people. The real result, 
 therefore, is in imparting strength to the kings, princes, and 
 courts by means of these new aids, which are identified 
 with them in interest, and in transforming the rents, by 
 which they were formerly supported, into taxes, by which 
 they are now enabled to live. The serf, it is true, has be- 
 come the nominal owner of his land, but his real condition 
 is not so essentially changed. 
 
 It is, however, a singular fact that this great change, from 
 serfdom to proprietorship, has had scarcely an appreciable 
 effect upon the social condition of the Germans. Such a 
 change we should naturally expect would lead the peasantry 
 gradually to adopt the dress, the manners, and modes of 
 living of those above them. It is everywhere else true 
 
 ^ Peasant Life in Germany, 55. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 117 
 
 • 
 that the country imitates the town. But in Germany scarce 
 anything of this kind is perceptible. Within the walls of 
 the city we encounter the dress, customs, foibles and frivoli- 
 ties of fashionable life. Outside of those walls we are in 
 the domain of peasant life ; a life that seems stereotyped ; 
 that in all its material features has remained the same for 
 a thousand years. Desolating wars have swept over the 
 country; new thrones and principalities have been erected 
 and overthrown ; new dynasties come and gone; the life of 
 serfdom ran its course and terminated ; and yet essentially 
 the same social condition has all along stamped the same 
 impress upon peasant life. 
 
 Is this for the reason that this life contains within itself 
 no principle of progress, no means of improvement, no 
 aspirations after higher styles of life and enjoyment? We 
 suppose not. There is, no doubt, truth in the fact that the 
 phlegmatic character of the German is indisposed to 
 change, and also that the heavy weight of centuries ren- 
 der it a matter of difficult accomplishment. But a stronger 
 cause than all these is probably to be found in the ceaseless 
 and severe pressure from above. The higher class, center- 
 ing in the court, and the more commonly culminating in 
 despotism, presses with terrible severity upon all below. 
 The great agent through which this pressure is more espe- 
 cially manifested is the severe taxation to which the people 
 are subjected. As the court and all that appertains to it, 
 the standing army, and the army of hungry officials, are 
 all nourished and sustained through the taxes levied^upon 
 the people, it must be obvious that all that cannot be 
 effected without very great oppression. This, together 
 with the harsh usage, on many occasions bestowed by the 
 higher upon the lower classes, has largely contributed to 
 keep them where they are, and thus prevent any rise in 
 their condition. The bad state of feeling engendered 
 between the former land holders and the serfs who have 
 risen to the rights of ownership, has no doubt had its share 
 in bringing about the result. 
 
118 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The social life of the Germans is susceptible of two divi- 
 sions. The one embraces the life spent at the different 
 courts, and this presents nothing very peculiar. The cus- 
 toms of the highest circles, and the manner of life led by 
 those who compose them, will be found nearly the same 
 through the civilized world. In the highest development of 
 that which constitutes the social element, we find everywhere 
 that uniformity that proclaims the unity of man and the 
 identity of the race to itself. 
 
 The fashions of the different courts are taken principally 
 from Paris ; but it is observed that each little court has an 
 entirely distinct costume in many points peculiar to itself. 
 This may, perhaps, be resorted to with the view of giving it 
 prestige and importance. The same motive actuates dif- 
 ferent noble families in England to dress their servants 
 and attendants in livery, so that they may be more readily 
 distinguished. 
 
 One feature, however, marks in a stonger manner than 
 elsewhere the higher life of the German, and that is the 
 rigid formality and strict etiquette that are carried through 
 all their social arrangements. This, although chilling to 
 every warm and spontaneous impulse, yet tends certainly 
 to preserve an unvarying uniformity, and to continue 
 unbroken, from generation to generation, the same manners, 
 customs, and modes of life. 
 
 It is when we direct our inquiries towards the country, 
 and the peasant life of Germany, that we find presenting 
 many points of interest. The one relates to guilds or trade 
 associations. "We have already seen in the element of in- 
 dustry the agency exercised by these guilds in the develop- 
 ment of that element. We now only contemplate them in 
 their social aspects. 
 
 One of the rules of the guild is that everyone after serv- 
 ing his apprenticeship at his trade must travel for the space 
 of three years practicing his trade,^ and must then produce 
 
 ^Peasant Life in Germany, 118, etc. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 119 
 
 a specimen of his workmanship, and this, together with a 
 certificate from the master of the guild as to his capacity 
 and fitness, may be sufficient to procure him employment. 
 
 There are several kinds of guilds, some of which are 
 peculiar to cities, and some to villages. In both they 
 essentially control the carrying on of the trade and handi- 
 craft to which they belong. 'No one can establish a busi- 
 ness except under their auspices. When a young man has 
 completed his apprenticeship he procures his certificate of 
 birth, time spent in service, the rules of his guild, and 
 passport from the police, and then starts off on his travels. 
 
 In all large towns there is an inn for journeymen of each 
 particular handicraft, which is known by the sign exhibited, 
 such as a boot, watch, horse-shoe, barrel or any symbol 
 of a particular trade. To this the journeyman resorts, and, 
 having deposited his certificate, goes forth in search after 
 work. He calls at each shop where his particular craft is 
 carried on, and offers his services. "When his services are 
 wanted his credentials are examined, and, if satisfactory , he 
 works out the engagement he makes, and then shoulders 
 his pack and recommences his travels. 
 
 Thus, on every high road, may be seen these wandering 
 journeymen traversing the whole country generally two by 
 two, demanding work in every city and village. "When in 
 one place they obtain and work out an engagement, they 
 travel on to another. 
 
 It may happen that no employment can be found, and 
 to meet this contingency, some of the guilds raise a fund 
 by the payment of a small sum annually, which is devoted 
 to the support of those who cannot find employment while 
 seeking it. The employment is dependent entirely upon 
 the fact of belonging to a guild, and each guild has its 
 rules, punishing by exclusion those who do not conform to 
 them. 
 
 As a general thing the members of each guild only asso- 
 ciate with each other, and their meetings of boisterous 
 merriment, for drinking, and the song, or dance, are limited 
 
120 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 to themselves and their friends, and exhibit a good degree 
 of rowdyism. 
 
 The object of these traveling journeymen is to acquire 
 varied information, presuming that each place can teach 
 something new ; but that which originally was undoubtedly 
 an excellent custom, has, through the lapse of centuries, 
 completely annihilated its own benefit, in that all the par- 
 ticulars of every handicraft have come to be as well known 
 in one place as another. Such a mutual exchange has 
 been kept up between the shops of Germany, that a great 
 sameness is everywhere observable, and " in every house 
 from the Black sea to the Baltic, and from the Volga to 
 the Rhine, may be seen the same tables, chairs, sofas, the 
 same knives, plates and candlesticks, the same door han- 
 dles, window fastenings, flower-pots, brooms, brushes, 
 mops and dishcloths, all of the same pattern." 
 
 One bad effect of this guild system is, that the master 
 builder is the only one who can, by the rules of the guild, 
 superintend building.^ He may be old fashioned, and 
 belong to a past century, and totally unable to give such 
 a construction as will satisfy either taste or utility, and 
 yet, to the exclusion of all enterprising young men, he 
 must be employed as long as he is supported by the 
 guild. 
 
 ]^or is this all. The widow of a master workman pos- 
 sesses the privilege of promoting another to that desirable 
 situation. She has even the privilege of offering herself to 
 a young man in the factory or shop where he has served his 
 apprenticeship, and in case of his declension, he will be 
 dismissed from service. Hence, it so often occurs that 
 young men are found married to women, sometimes twice 
 as old as themselves. 
 
 The beneficial results to agriculture which have flowed 
 from the elevation of the serf into the proprietor, are every- 
 where decisively marked. Proprietary rights are very 
 
 ^Peasant Life in Germany, 119. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 121 
 
 limited in extent; expensive implements of husbandry, 
 employed by large farmers, cannot profitably be used ; and 
 the free use of the spade, the hoe, and the rake, give, in 
 many places, the whole country the appearance of a gar- 
 den. Much attention in Germany is given to agriculture 
 as a science. It is taught in the universities, and in the 
 agricultural schools. 
 
 Besides, there are meetings of agricultural societies, at 
 which much information concerning different stjdes of 
 culture is gathered up, and every possible inquiry made 
 in reference to every matter of interest to agriculture.^ 
 All the statements are carefully compared by a committee, 
 and advice given in reference to changes and improve- 
 ments. "Women in all parts of G-ermany are employed to 
 work in the field. One thing that tends to render this 
 necessary, is the great number of men, who, from the 
 mistaken policy of Europe, are compelled to lead a soldier 
 life. 
 
 A curious superstition prevails in Brunswick, that one 
 called upon to testify in a court of justice, only thinks 
 himself bound to tell the truth when occupying a certain 
 position ; his left hand being held down by the side,^ his 
 right in front of the breast, with the two forefingers point- 
 ing outward. They are carefully watched while testifying, 
 to see that they do not change their position, because, if 
 such should be the fact, they would feel themselves at 
 liberty to deviate as much as they pleased. 
 
 Among the peculiar institutions of Germany, are^the 
 fairs and markets, held for the purpose of supplying the 
 daily wants of the people. They answer the purpose of 
 shops and provision stores in other countries. There are 
 usually four more important than others, which corre- 
 spond with the four seasons. Besides these, in each duchy, 
 or principality, there are the great fairs, held twice a 
 year, at Leipsic, Brunswick, and Frankfort, to which 
 
 ' Peasant Life in Germany, 128. "^ Idem, 149. 
 VI] 16 
 
122 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 people resort from all parts of Germany.^ At these are 
 exhibited the manufactures and other industrial products 
 of the Germans. Along the squares and main street are 
 erected little booths, and tables are spread, where all man- 
 ner of wares are offered for sale. 
 
 These fairs are looked forward to with great interest, 
 because in their train come toys, pictures, and various 
 amusements. The circus is present.^ Panoramas, diora- 
 mas are present. Year after year, and century after cen- 
 tury, the some position is occupied by the same shop or 
 exhibition. Everything that is bought and sold in the 
 whole country finds a place here, and samples are often 
 shown, and orders taken to be afterwards supplied. A 
 custom has lately grown up of employing runners to carry 
 around specimens for exhibition, and to take orders. 
 
 At these fairs the law fixes the hour of sale, which is 
 ushered in by musicians, and this they continue to do 
 during the three weeks the fair is in session.^ They have 
 also agricultural fairs as well as those for the exhibition and 
 sale of manufactured articles. 
 
 There is much distinction of rank in Germany. The 
 first grade consists of the clergy.^ The second of the nobles. 
 In this there are several varieties such as princes, counts, 
 barons, knights. The third is made up of the burghers 
 and peasantry. The nobles live isolated in their castles, 
 which are situated on the peaks of mountains, or in the 
 depths of forests, or upon solitary plains. Much of their 
 subsistence, and no small share of their pleasures are derived 
 from the chase. Their proud air, and measured haughty 
 step, everywhere distinguishes them from the common 
 people.^ They consider it debasing to follow an honest 
 occupation, or to wed an ignoble woman. 
 
 In all the great cities will be found two classes of citizens : 
 the one composed of the common people, mechanics, 
 
 ^ Peasant Life in Oermany, 1^1. ^Idem,W8. ^ Idem, 159. ^ Idem, 179. 
 " Idem, 179. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 123 
 
 manufacturers, merchants; the other of the noble born, 
 generally younger sons of the great families, following no 
 occupation publicly, monopolizing the offices, and styling 
 themselves patricians. 
 
 In some parts of Germany, and formerly in almost all parts 
 of it, is another social condition, viz : that of the serf, who 
 tills the earth, living in villages or lonely cottages. The 
 dwelling is a rude hut, constructed of mud and wattles, and 
 thatched with straw, his garb a coarse gown and straw hat ; 
 his food black sour bread with thin porridge or pulse soup ; 
 his drink water or milk ; his toil is incessant ; and his treat- 
 ment often harsh and severe. 
 
 The G-ermans are full of legends and superstitions. 
 They believe in signs and wonders, ghosts and hobgoblins, 
 and almost every act of their lives is influenced by some 
 light or shadow which has fallen upon their path, and 
 which they attribute to some supernatural being.^ More 
 especially are the old castles hung with legendary lore, 
 and tradition faithfully bears from one generation to 
 another tales of love and war, Ihe doings of the bold knight 
 and his lady love. The superstition of the death-call pre- 
 vails in Germany among the common people ; that is, if 
 one heard, or imagined he heard, a voice, he was sure it 
 was the angel of death summoning him to judgment.^ 
 
 Many of the social customs and habits of the Germans 
 flow from their industrial pursuits. Among these those of 
 the vintage are not the least considerable. 
 
 Many districts in Germany are vast vineyards, although 
 the vine seems somewhat capricious in regard to the cir- 
 cumstances under which its growth commences and 
 matures. It must be a sunny slope or a sheltered valley, 
 and to these must be added a clime both uniform and 
 genial. This necessity of resorting to the sunny hillside 
 and the sheltered vale results in giving variety and pictur- 
 esque beauty to those regions where the vine culture is 
 
 ^Peasant Life in Germany, 189. ^ Idem, 290. 
 
124 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 carried to the greatest perfection. The Rhine Gau, formed 
 by a sudden change in the direction of the Rhine by which 
 it is made to describe a semicircle between Mayence and 
 Coblentz has been called the paradise of Germany. Kot 
 only within its limits, but far away in every direction, are 
 hills crowned with castles and smiling with vineyards.^ 
 
 l^either vineyards nor fields in Germany are surrounded 
 with fences. Everything is open and apparently exposed. 
 But a more careful observation will discover that as soon 
 as the fields grow productive, watchers are stationed by 
 government among the hills and valleys, who exercise 
 both day and night such a ceaseless vigilance, that while 
 the harvests are ripening, a man may not even enter his 
 own field without permission.^ When the harvest is 
 ripe it is the police that fixes the day for gathering it. 
 This arrangement saves the expense of fences which are 
 unnecessary to protect against cattle as they are kept all 
 safe in their stalls. 
 
 The vintage usually commences about the twelfth of 
 October. On the week previous the police give a formal 
 notice, accompanied by the ringing of bells.^ The evening 
 previous the bells are again rung, and in the early morn- 
 ing they ring out a merrier peal, which is signalized by the 
 issuing forth of the vintagers in their holiday costume, 
 with basket in hand, and singing as they go, to gather the 
 ripe grapes. Thus the full swell of song is made to echo 
 among the hills while their well filled baskets are some- 
 times deposited in large vats in the fields,^ and in others 
 carried to barns or granaries preparatory to pressing in 
 mills very similar to the process of making cider from 
 apples. 
 
 The old and universal custom was to tread the grapes 
 upon the spot, and this is still the practice in many of the 
 provinces. This is accomplished by placing the grapes in 
 a large flat tub, and then setting men with naked feet to 
 
 ' Peasant Life in Oermany, 205. = Idem^ 300. ' Idem, 215. * Idem, 217. 
 
EUEOPE — ITS SOCIETY. 125 
 
 trample upon them until the juice is all pressed out. 
 Another mode, still, is by pounding them in small troughs, 
 and then allowing the juice to settle before pouring it into 
 tuns, hogsheads and barrels. When the vintage is over, a 
 ball is celebrated in every village. 
 
 The grape cure is the one grand remedy for all diseases, 
 and does sometimes effect astonishing cures. This is the 
 mode by v^hich it is administered.^ Those desiring it 
 spend the vintage season where they can procure grapes in 
 abundance, and eat many pounds a day, as long as they 
 last. The blood, by these means, is supposed to be wholly 
 renewed and purified, and thus a change radically wrought 
 in the system. 
 
 An occasion of gathering together among the Germans is 
 also presented in the apple-bee, at which the cutting and 
 drying the winter store of apples takes place. Here it is 
 that the maiden consults the oracle of the future by swing- 
 ing three times around her head the long paring, and then 
 watching the form into which it falls, confidently expecting 
 it to cut the initials of her lover's name.^ 
 
 Among the Erz mountains live the miners, the weavers 
 of linen, the makers of lace, and the manufacturers of 
 wooden ware.^ They are all poor, but extremely industrious. 
 Three or four families live under one straw-thatched roof, 
 being separated from each other by chalk marks for 
 dividing lines. The running brook, by a simple machinery 
 of wheels and paddles is made to rock the cradle of 
 the infant, while its unbroken music hushes the ^little 
 one to slumber. Potatoes and salt are almost their only 
 living, while the shuttle and the bobbin, the hammer and 
 the pick-axe through all the day preserve their unvaried 
 monotony of sound. And yet, even here, the young men 
 spend the long winter evening in wooing, and the old in 
 telling of the olden times, and Christmas brings its song 
 and conviviality. 
 
 ' Peasant Life in Germany, 219. ' Idem, 329. ' Idem, 373. 
 
126 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 In Westphalia and Oldenbarg they have a singular 
 custom of keeping alive the fire in the great family room.^ 
 They never permit it to go out except when the head of 
 the household dies, and then it must he rekindled by the 
 new heir. "Take a place by my fire," is the phrase of 
 hospitality to all who come under the roof. 
 
 The Germans are a people much attached to festivity. 
 One great evidence of this is their mingling the festive 
 with the useful. When, for instance, a village raising is 
 to occur, and the roof is ready to be placed on the walls,^ 
 the neighbors are invited to attend, and when the rafters 
 are joined, a man ascends to the highest point with a large 
 wreath, with which he crowns the rafters when united, 
 then makes a speech, and takes a bottle of wine which he 
 hurls to the earth.^ If it do not break no luck will come 
 to the house or its owners. Afterwards a procession is 
 formed, and a feast and dance closes the concern. 
 
 During the winter, the spinning circle moves from 
 house to house being held twice or three times a week.^ 
 Each maiden is accompanied by her lover, who carries her 
 wheel, and sits by her during the evening. These circles 
 do not always end as decorously as they begin. 
 
 The Thuringians, uniting the qualities both of the north 
 and the south, are true-hearted, hospitable, reflecting and 
 diligent. It has been said of them that " there is ever a 
 deep thought in their heads, and ever a light song upon 
 their lips." They are rich in sagas and superstitions, and 
 abound in festivals. 
 
 The young in Germany are greatly given to amuse- 
 ments. Almost everything begins and ends with a dance. 
 Even church celebrations ofi*er no exceptions. Every 
 village inn has its ball room, which is the best finished 
 and most pleasant room in the house. ^ The balls, espe- 
 cially in the catholic portions of Germany, frequently occur 
 
 ^ Peasant Life in Germany, 376. ^ Idem, 312. ^ Idem, 313. " Idem, 313. 
 /fZm, 226. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 127 
 
 on Sundays. They are accompanied with smoking and 
 drinking, and often last through the entire night. These 
 two vices are extremely common throughout Germany. 
 
 The reason why balls and dances are so immensely 
 popular is because that affords the best, and in fact almost 
 the only, opportunity to the young of each sex to become 
 acquainted with eaeh other. In Germany the homes of 
 the people are not often the scenes of social gatherings, 
 where the young of the sexes can become acquainted with 
 each other. The young female spends her time at home, 
 except on the occasion of public balls and festivals ; while 
 the young man frequents the club room, where drinking 
 and smoking are indulged in often to excess. The result 
 of this is most unfortunate upon the manners of the people. 
 The men are rough and harsh, wanting in refinement and 
 politeness, and although not absolutely vicious, yet are ill 
 fitted to become the companions of refined and delicate 
 ladies. 
 
 Another result of this is that in Germany the manoeuver- 
 ing tactics to spread and catch in the matrimonial net are 
 very little practiced. As soon as the young men are fairly 
 embarked in business for themselves, they are regularly 
 besieged by mothers having marriageable daughters, and 
 in the end each probably finds it for his interest to take 
 one in order to get rid of all the others. 
 
 The entire freedom of the ball-room, and the easy access 
 of both sexes to it, aflbrds large means of forming acquaint- 
 ance. A matron, it is true, accompanies each young lady, 
 but while there she is entirely free to dance and talk with 
 whoever she pleases.^ This appears to be a very general 
 custom among both high and low. 
 
 There is nothing very peculiar in the German betrothal 
 and wedding, and ceremonies observed are not very 
 uniform. A very important church ceremony observed in 
 Germany is that of confirmation. All persons by law must 
 
 ^ Peasant Life in Qermany, 229. 
 
128 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 be members of the church,^ and somewhere, between the 
 ages of fourteen and sixteen, must be confirmed, and thus 
 received into full communion. To this rite or ceremony 
 is attached vast importance. jN"o one can enter upon any 
 profession or business until its performance. It is no less 
 important to girls. With them it is the passport to young 
 ladyhood and its privileges.^ It entitles them to doff the 
 short dresses and deck themselves in the long skirts of 
 woman, and to attend public balls and dances. 
 
 At Whitsuntide, as in England on the first of May, the 
 May-pole is reared in the country, many of them often 
 shooting up in every village, dressed from top to bottom,^ 
 and also little arbors in front of every door, called lovers' 
 bowers, in which they sit and sing, or dance and play. At 
 the same time the first thing that meets the opening eye 
 of the maiden in the morning is the wreaths of evergreen 
 and flowers that are hung about their doors and windows. 
 
 Funerals in Germany are generally attended in the 
 morning, sometimes very early. In protestant Germany 
 a minister is seldom in attendance.^ The pall-bearers are 
 appointed by the state, but paid by the family. They 
 are of three different ranks, depending upon difference in 
 the amount of their charge. In Hamburg, hired mourners 
 attend, but the expense attending upon these exhibitions 
 has resulted in their being limited to the rich. In the 
 churchyards during the summer the monuments are hung 
 with wreaths, and in cold weather artificial flowers often 
 supply the place of the natural. In the country burial 
 grounds one portion is allotted to the aged and married, 
 another to the youth, and another, still, to the children. 
 
 In the northern part of Prussia some singular funeral 
 customs prevail among the peasantry. Immediately upon 
 the death of a person the window is opened to give the 
 spirit free egress,^ and a piece of money is placed in the 
 
 ' Peasant Life in Germany, 249. =* Idem, 351. ^ Idem, 349. " Idem, 224. 
 Udem, 376. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 129 
 
 mouth to furnish it with the means of support while on 
 its way to the other world or while there. ^ In the coffin 
 are placed a bowl and spoon, the comb which belonged to 
 the deceased, and the hair last combed from his head. The 
 body is accompanied to the grave with songs in the belief 
 that the more they sing the happier will the spirit be in 
 heaven. Each relative deposits something in the coffin, a 
 piece of his coat, or shirt, or handkerchief, and a lock of 
 hair, with a flask of brandy. 
 
 In some districts of lower Austria and in Styria, espe- 
 cially in those mountainous parts bordering on Hungary, 
 there prevails a strange custom, which has grown into a 
 habit of eating arsenic. The peasantry are more especially 
 given to it, commencing with a small quantity weighing 
 less than half a grain, which they take while fasting several 
 mornings in the week for a considerable time. Very care- 
 fully and gradually they increase the dose according to the 
 effect produced, until some take at one time a quantity 
 weighing four grains. When once entered upon, this cus- 
 tom is generally kept up during life. 
 
 The object is two-fold, one to obtain a fresh, healthy 
 appearance, to acquire a certain degree of embonpoint. 
 The young of each sex, by this means, render themselves 
 more attractive to each other, for it is the youthful poison 
 eaters that are the most distinguished by a blooming com- 
 plexion, and an appearance of exuberant health. 
 
 The other object is to make them better winded, that is, 
 to render their respiration freer and easier when ascending 
 the mountains. They often practice taking a small quan- 
 tity when about to ascend heights, and the effect it has 
 upon respiration, and the movements of the chest is truly 
 surprising. 
 
 Although some fall victims to the practice, especially 
 from over doses at the commencement, yet in those in whom 
 the habit is thoroughly established there is no trace of an 
 
 ^Peasant Life in Germany, 376. 
 VI] 17 
 
130 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 arsenical cachexy discernible, and tlie symptoms of a 
 chronic arsenical poisoning never show themselves in indi- 
 viduals who adapt the dose to their constitution. But 
 what is very remarkable is that when, for any reason, the 
 use is discontinued and the habit broken up, symptoms 
 of illness appear resembling those produced by poisoning 
 from arsenic, such as difficulty in breathing, a burning 
 pain from the pylorus to the throat, want of appetite, indif- 
 ference to persons and things, great personal anxiety, and 
 various distressing sensations, for all which there is but 
 one remedy, viz : a return to the habit. 
 
 Thus the commencement and continuance creates the 
 necessity not only of keeping up the habit, but of taking 
 constantly increasing doses, until the system can endure 
 nothing further, and death occurs from a demand which it 
 becomes equally fatal either to grant or refuse. 
 
 5. Society as it has developed or is developing itself in 
 France. 
 
 The French people are a mixture of the ancient Celts, 
 Romans and Germans, and while they form a connecting 
 link between the people of the south and those of the 
 north, they will be found in their general traits of character 
 and social habits to bear a stronger resemblance to the in- 
 habitants of the south of Europe. There are also other 
 distinct stocks, as the Bretons in the Amorican penin- 
 sula, the Basques and Gascons at the foot of the Pyrenees, 
 and the Walloons near Belgium, that enter into and 
 modify French character. 
 
 Thus, taken altogether, the French people present much 
 variety in their development of social life. While the 
 inhabitant of Brittany is distinguished for violent passions, 
 and stubbornness,^ the people of JSTormandy are crafty, 
 selfish and quarrelsome. On the banks of the Somme, the 
 people are plain in their habits, and irritable in disposition. 
 
 ^IconograpMc Encyclopedia, ni, 194. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. . 131 
 
 In northern France, Flemish customs prevail. The 
 people are unsocial, and addicted to spirituous liquors. 
 On the Maine, and in the region of the upper Seine, in 
 what was formerly Champagne, the manners of the in- 
 habitants are very plain. Among the mountaineers of 
 Yosges we find a prevalence of German blood, and hence 
 a people candid, open-hearted, hospitable, and phlegmatic. 
 The inhabitants of the Jura are temperate and frugal, and 
 free from violent passions. In the valleys of the Rhone, 
 Dordogne, Garonne and Adour, the people are generally 
 of a very lively temper, impassioned, and fond of the 
 figurative style of language. In Languedoc these same 
 traits are associated with refined and amiable manners, 
 while in Provence it is much the reverse of this. In 
 Guyenne and Gascony the inhabitants have little of frank- 
 ness in their character; while among the mountains of 
 Auvergue and Limousin, the people are poor but good- 
 natured and candid, charitable and hospitable. These 
 original diversities in disposition should have their weight 
 in any estimate to be formed of social life in France. 
 
 The origin of these diversities is probably largely owing 
 to the difierent ethnic races, or different types of the human 
 race, that occupy the soil of France. The name France, 
 is derived from the Franks, a tribe of the Teutonic type, 
 who, on the overthrow of the Roman power, established 
 themselves in that territory, and became the dominant 
 race. This German element was the most strongly preva- 
 lent in the north of France and hence the reign of feudal- 
 ism which it brought along with it,^ was there the most 
 thoroughly established and continued the longest to exert 
 its influence. In ISTormandy, another cognate race, of the 
 same ethnic type, the Normans, long subsequently esta- 
 blished themselves, and gave to that province the same 
 dominant race that afterwards so strongly impressed the 
 great features of its character upon English civilization. 
 
 Hotz's Gohineau, 183, 
 
132 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 But deeply underlying these German types are the 
 remains of the old Allophilian race, \vhich has already 
 been alluded to in another connection, supposed by many 
 to be the aborigines of Europe, and found more in the 
 southern than in the central and northern parts of France; 
 and intermediate between that and the German, are the 
 first migrating or Celtic race, the remains of which are 
 found in the western, central and southern provinces. Of 
 these difierent races, so far as their types have been pre- 
 served, the Teutonic and Celtic have exerted the strongest 
 influence in moulding the character and guiding the destiny 
 of the French people. 
 
 The first mentioned of these two, early became dominant 
 in the north of France, while everywhere else, with the 
 exception of l^ormandy, the ancient Gauls, principally of 
 Celtic origin, formed the great bulk of the population. 
 This preponderance of the German element guided the 
 policy of the country until the forepart of the fifteenth 
 century, when the threatened annihilation of the French 
 monarchy, under the English invasion, aroused the popula- 
 tion of the central provinces, who, rallying around Charles 
 Vn, drove back the English invaders, restored the French 
 nationality, and infused into it that taste for military life, 
 glory and conquest which are more Celtic than Teutonic, 
 and which have ever since very strongly prevailed. 
 
 Another change occurred towards the close of the six- 
 teenth century when the Bourbon dynasty in the person of 
 Henry IV, from the south, with his Aquitanian followers, 
 not only brought with it a still stronger desire for military 
 achievement, but also that centralization of power, which 
 was derived from Rome, and was most favorable for success. 
 This ascendancy of the southern populations, accompanied 
 by the military spirit and the centralization of power, was 
 one of the principal agencies that gave to Paris in modern 
 times such a mighty preponderance,^ rendering it really the 
 
 Hotz's Gobineau, 184. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 133 
 
 sovereign of the state. This great capital contains a popu- 
 lation which is a motley compound of all the most varied 
 ethnical elements. The expression so common that " Paris 
 is France," refers to its scientific, social, and political 
 domination, and not to its occupying a representative cha- 
 racter. 
 
 There are classes in other large cities that enable them 
 to resemble Paris, but between the capital and the country 
 there is hardly a single point of resemblance. It has long 
 since been observed that " Paris is separated from the rest 
 of France by a line of demarkation so decided and accu- 
 rately defined,^ that at the very gates of the capital, a 
 nation is found, utterly different from that within the walls. 
 Although much is said about the French character as if it 
 were homogeneous, yet there is really very little similarity 
 of thoughts, of views, of feelings, or of aught that goes to 
 make up a nationality.^ It has been boldly asserted by an 
 enlightened Frenchman that there is not one principle that 
 governs society and is connected with French civilization, 
 which is understood in the same manner in all the depart- 
 ments. 'No reference is here had to the peculiarities that 
 characterize the native of J^ormandy, of Brittany, Angevin, 
 Limousin, Gascony and Provence, in each one of which 
 the population differs from all the others in its tendencies, 
 modes of thinking, and even physical appearance. But it 
 is the different rural populations of France, the great body 
 of the peasantry, among whom the very rudiments of 
 knowledge remain an impenetrable mystery, very few of 
 them being acquainted with reading and writing. This is 
 not owing to the want of educational means.^ The smallest 
 village affords ample opportunities for common education. 
 It arises from a reluctance to acquire knowledge. Even 
 beyond this, it has been traced to a feeling of positive 
 hostility to French civilization. Although some are legally 
 compelled to submit to an elementary education, yet they 
 
 ^Rotz's OoUneau, 392. ^ Idem, 292. ^ Idem, 293. 
 
134 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 return forever to the local patois of their birth place which 
 in many cases bears but little resemblance to the French 
 language/ sometimes, as in Landes, differing even in the 
 roots of which it is composed. 
 
 Among these peasant populations the greatest taci- 
 turnity and reserve prevails.^ Between them and the 
 bourgeoise, as they are termed, or the landed proprietors, 
 there is but little communication and less sympathy. In 
 their isolation from the civilization of the age, they do not 
 appear actuated by a feeling of degradation. Their affec- 
 tions and antipathies do not arise from mere accidental 
 circumstances, but are based upon clearly conceived and 
 well defined ideas. These populations are found more 
 prevalent in central and southern France where the Teu- 
 tonic element has no existence or is possessed of little 
 strength. They regard themselves as a distinct race, a 
 race that is weak and depressed, a race,^ therefore, that 
 can accomplish nothing by force, and whose only resort 
 is to cunning and stratagem. They do not constitute a 
 class but a caste, as strongly marked almost as those of 
 ancient Egypt or modern India. 
 
 Among these populations may still be found the local 
 costumes of the middle ages. Their manners, customs and 
 modes of thinking are peculiar to themselves. It is 
 among them that the clergy are compelled to battle with 
 mysterious superstitions, or hereditary tendencies, all the 
 more formidable because they are seldom openly avowed, 
 but are cherished in silence and solitude.* There are still 
 parishes in France where the superstitions of heathenism 
 still prevail.^ In catholic Brittany even in the last centu- 
 ries, the bishop in vain attempted to withdraw his flock 
 from the worship of an idol of stone. The rude image was 
 thrown into the water, but rescued by its obstinate adorers, 
 and even the assistance of the military was rendered neces- 
 sary to break it in pieces. 
 
 'Hotz'sGoUneau,2%L ^Idem,297. Udem,dOO. ^ Idem, 296. ' Idem, ld7. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY, 135 
 
 These populations, fortunately, are neither wicked nor 
 ill disposed.^ Among themselves they are kind-hearted, 
 charitable and obliging. They stand in mysterious terror 
 of the laws, have no part in their making, and hate and 
 distrust all those above themselves. There are among 
 them wealthy people, and, in general, they are not as poor 
 as the lower classes in cities. Sunk in apathetic indifler- 
 ence they take no interest in the political movements of 
 the country. With the single exception of the peasant 
 war of La Vendee, the French peasantry have taken no in- 
 terest whatever in the revolutions through which France 
 has passed within the last century. Whether Bourbon, 
 Orleanist, or republic is triumphant, is to them a matter of 
 indifference.^ There were rural districts in which the pea- 
 sants did not hear of the expulsion of the Bourbon dynasty 
 until years afterwards. 
 
 It is obvious, that this lower stratum of population in 
 France can exert little, if any, influence upon social life or 
 the progress of civilization. It has been computed that of 
 the thirty-six millions in France only ten participate in the 
 ideas and mode of thinking upon which French civilization 
 is based,^ while the remaining twenty-six altogether ignore 
 them, being indifferent and even hostile to them. 
 
 There is a kind of population above the peasantry, who 
 may be better designated as a class than a caste. This also 
 consists of laborers, but they are those employed in the 
 manufactories,^ and in the large cities. These are easily 
 induced to learn to read and write. They generally acquire 
 the rudiments of knowledge, but the culture bestowed upon 
 them is intellectual, not moral. While their moral nature 
 is suffered to run to waste, they come up with clear intel- 
 lectual perceptions of their own social degradation, and of 
 the many enjoyments of every description of those above 
 them. To them, therefore, life offers little except in the 
 line of revolution. They readily imbibe ideas and senti- 
 
 ' Rotz's Godineau, SOO. "" Idem, d02. Vt^m, 303. * Idem, 2%. 
 
136 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ments subversive of all social order. Toward the civiliza- 
 tion which they can comprehend and appreciate, but never 
 hope to enjoy, they entertain an uncompromising hostility. 
 It is among these that the projectors of the wildest and 
 most incendiary schemes, readily recruit their partisans. 
 It is here that socialism is nourished; tha tcommunity of 
 goods and wives becomes a cherished dream of the fancy ; 
 and that all the ills and abuses that afflict the social system 
 find an all powerful remedy in the destruction of that 
 system. To these men life offers little of enjoyment under 
 the present constitution of things, and hence they care little 
 for its continuance. They are ever ready to risk its loss 
 for the realization of what a change may bring. Their* 
 employment, not isolated like that of the peasantry, brings 
 them much together, and enables them to compare ideas 
 and arrange their plans. These are the men of blouses 
 and of barricades, who are ever ready to welcome a revo- 
 lution because it brings a change, and who expect to find 
 amidst the wild conflict of political forces the long sought 
 panacea for all social evils. 
 
 There are, however, portions of country to which this 
 picture has no application. Among the agricultural and 
 manufacturing populations of the north and north-east, 
 information is readily received, is very general, and pro- 
 ductive of good fruits.^ These people are intelligent and 
 orderly. They are the descendants of the Franks, the old 
 Teutonic stock, to which civilization, all the world over, is 
 so very largely indebted. 
 
 It has been estimated that two-thirds of the entire popu- 
 lation of France are actually engaged, or interested as land- 
 lords and proprietors, in the pursuits of agriculture. 
 "While in England the land is all owned by a comparatively 
 few landed proprietors, constituting what is termed the 
 landed aristocracy, in France a very different policy has 
 prevailed, and the subdivision of landed property has been 
 
 Hotz's GoUneau, 296. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 137 
 
 carried to a very great extent under the encouragement of 
 positive enactment, as well as the influence of traditional 
 habits.^ There are fields there measuring one and a 
 half yards by two, and instances of a farmer owning and 
 cultivating a single furrow, and that not a long one. It is 
 estimated that there are about a million and a quarter of 
 land proprietors in France,^ and that none of them hold 
 more than five acres of land. This great subdivision of 
 landed property exerts an unfavorable influence upon agri- 
 culture, as it fails to furnish either the land or the capital 
 necessary to an enlarged and extended system of agricul- 
 tural operations. 
 
 Another class, order, or what came very near being a 
 caste, was the old French noblesse. These began to be 
 hereditary upon the downfall of the Carlovingian dynasty. 
 We have before referred to them politically m connection 
 with the governmental element. Their social standing 
 depended much upon their antiquity of origin. ^N^obility 
 of four hundred years duration was requisite for a present- 
 ation at court. - Among them, wealth was but little re- 
 garded. It was blood, pure noble blood, that had coursed 
 through the veins of their progenitors for centuries, that 
 gave them all their consequence. They were many of 
 them poor, and supported by little offices within the gift 
 of the court. But their poverty detracted nothing from 
 the respect with which they were treated. 
 
 The noblesse never would marry out of their own ranks. 
 In this respect they are unlike the English, who often 
 recruit their blood and replenish their exhausted estates, 
 by intermarriages with the daughters of energetic, enter- 
 prising and wealthy commoners. But this, with the old 
 French noblesse, would be regarded with holy horror. 
 
 The French revolution waged a war of extermination 
 against the whole order of the nobles. They were de- 
 prived of their oppressive privileges, and exclusive rights, 
 
 ^ Transactions of Agricultural Society, 1853, p. 35. "^ Idem, 29. 
 VI] 18 
 
138 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 by the decree of August 4, 1789. And by that of Juuel9, 
 1790, all hereditary rank was abolished. Under the 
 detested name of aristocrat, hundreds were sent to the 
 guillotine. Of the one thousand eight hundred and thirty- 
 three victims who perished by that instrument, between 
 August, 1792, and the same month in 1794, it has been 
 ascertained that one thousand and eighty-four were of 
 the highest nobility of France, being princes, dukes, mar- 
 shals, generals, and other officers ; ^ six hundred and 
 thirty-six were of the gentry, being members of parlia- 
 ment, judges, etc. ; while one hundred and thirteen were 
 of the bourgeoise, including noncommissioned officers and 
 soldiers. So fierce and exterminating was the warfare 
 waged, that very few escaped, except those who sought 
 safety in exile. 
 
 Under IsTapoleon, in 1806 and 1808, a new nobility were 
 created, but upon the restoration of the Bourbons the old 
 noblesse were reinstated. 
 
 In France there are, at the present, three kinds of nobility. 
 1. The legitimists, the old noblesse, or the old aristocracy 
 of the Bourbon stock. This finds its culminating head in 
 the person of Henry Y, Due de Bordeaux, now an exile in 
 Italy. 2. The Orleans nobility, the family of the late 
 Louis Philippe, represented in the person of the young 
 Count de Paris. 3. The Il^apoleonic nobility, that of the 
 empire, based originally upon military genius, and finding 
 its head in the present emperor, E'apoleon III. 
 
 The old noblesse of the present day present both politi- 
 cally and socially the fossilized relics of a former period. 
 Before the revolution they basked in the sunshine of 
 royalty, and to them the cumbersome etiquette of Versailles 
 was their only living faith. Regarding with lofty con- 
 tempt all the aspirations and efforts of industry, they 
 welcome poverty without any feeling of disgrace, and 
 submit cheerfully to its privations while looking back to 
 
 ^OoUneau, by Holtz, note, 163. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 139 
 
 an ancestry presenting names rendered illustrious by the 
 events of French history. Their salons may be in a gar- 
 ret, but the airs of nobility will still flourish around them. 
 The great tidal movements of life around them, its ebb 
 and flow, its convulsive upheavings and its calmer courses, 
 they regard with listless eye where their own safety is not 
 emperiled. Their society is confined to themselves, and 
 thus they are enabled to cherish the memories of past gene- 
 rations. They are in fact relics of the past, having very 
 little to do with the present and still less with the future. 
 Their moral power and intellectual energy died out under 
 the reign of the Bourbons. The manners and customs of 
 a court, especially of a Bourbon court, were illy adapted 
 to the preservation of either. While embellishments of 
 person and light accomplishments were regarded as afibrd- 
 ing the most effectual passports to court favor, all the 
 higher graces of mind and morals were accounted as 
 nothing, and the latter as fatal incumbrances. It was the 
 power of fascinating, the graces of person and of manner, 
 the easy virtue of the females, the refined gallantry of the 
 males, the apparent abandon, and the thousand little 
 attentions and graceful activities that made up society, 
 that secured the commendations of the old noblesse. It 
 was from this cause that the court of the Bourbon kings 
 was altogether the most corrupt and corrupting that ever 
 existed on earth. There is probably no period in the 
 annals of history that can equal the reign of Louis XY in 
 acts showing an utter disregard of principle, an abandon- 
 ment even of the virtue of modesty, a shameless surrender 
 to prostitution, and a virtual denial of Grod, and even of a 
 moral element in man. The orgies, and bacchanalian 
 revels, and strange acts and things to which society gave 
 itself up during this and the preceding and subsequent 
 reigns, together with the iron oppression which was neces- 
 sary in order to wring from the people the expensive means 
 by which these depths of infamy could be attained, at 
 length maddened the people to that degree that the whirl- 
 
140 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 wind of the revolution swept away with terrible energy 
 the decayed and worn out relics of a social system, which 
 in its conscious debasement had lost the respect even of 
 itself. Madame de Crequy, one of the finest and purest 
 samples of the ancient aristocracy, whose long life con- 
 nected together the empires of Louis XIV, and I^apoleon 
 I, by both of whom her hands were respectfully kissed, by 
 the former when she was eleven years of age and by the lat- 
 ter in her ninety-eighth year, testifies in her memoirs, 
 that the order of nobles perished by its own inherent vices. 
 She says Bonaparte wished to call about him the high 
 nobility, who never would have been of any service to 
 him.^ "The greater part of the great lords had been edu- 
 cated without piety, and had commenced to live too young. 
 Incapable of exercising the authority of rank, they were 
 of races enervated by luxury, weakened in intelligence, 
 and spoiled by domination." It is thus clear from its own 
 confession that the old French noblesse had reached that 
 point where their existence, except as a mere fossil, must 
 necessarily cease, and it accordingly did so. 
 
 And what effect had the revolution and the reign of terror 
 upon French society ? Probably, ultimately, but very little. 
 It arrested, for a time, by violence, all its ordinary, normal 
 movements. It swept away, temporarily, the throne, the 
 clergy, and the order of noblesse. It rendered ever after, 
 unless the Bourbon dynasty should be permanently restored, 
 that order fossiliferous, a mere form without a living in- 
 herent energy. But outside of courtly and noble life, 
 and priestly ministrations, it disturbed very little the exist- 
 ing order of things. It never seemed to afi:ect the national 
 gayety. Amid all the scenes of revolutionary carnage, 
 Paris, to all appearance, continued to be one of the happiest 
 cities in the world. "While the terrible notes of the Marsel- 
 laise were hymned forth from its streets by the Girondists 
 while going to execution, only become fainter and feebler 
 
 ^Parisian Sights and French Princijyles, 2d series, 26. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 141 
 
 as one head after another fell beneath the axe, while the 
 screams of massacre appallingly resounded in some parts 
 of the city ; in others, actors and mountebanks were per- 
 forming to crowded theatres, eliciting the most clamorous 
 applause, and exhibiting nothing but the most unbounded 
 enjoyment. The tale of the revolution has not been with- 
 out its moral in all places of the civilized world, except in 
 the cities and among the people, where its terrible scenes 
 were enacted. 
 
 It may very well be asked whether in view of the differ- 
 ent races of men, or rather of the different types of the 
 same race, that have for centuries occupied the French 
 soil, there is such a thing as French character, French 
 social life, or French manners and customs ? To this ques- 
 tion, I suppose the answer should be that each type really 
 develops its own social life through the instrumentality of 
 those manners and customs which are in harmony with it, 
 and which, altogether, give the appropriate charactertoeach; 
 and that thus the complete knowledge of social life upon 
 the French soil could only be gathered from a careful inves- 
 tigation of each one of these types. Each, no doubt, pos- 
 sesses and displays its own peculiarities, and along with 
 these there are probably modified results, which combine 
 and present an amalgam of two or more. But this would 
 present a task which few, if any, would be willing to enter 
 upon. Besides, the materials are scant for such an under- 
 taking. 
 
 How is it then that we hear so much of French charac- 
 ter, and of the ease and facility of learning, understanding, 
 and estimating its relative value ? It is because what is 
 known as French character, and French social life, that 
 which meets our view in Paris ; the queen city that, from 
 the banks of the Seine, dispenses fashion to the civilized 
 world. It is from this cause, and also from the revolutions 
 which have there originated, that we have the expression 
 so often reiterated that "Paris is France." There is, no 
 doubt, but the other great cities of France, or the most of 
 
142 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 them, exhibit manners, customs and social habits much the 
 same as in the great capital; but of course the life that 
 abounds in the rural districts, must be quite different. 
 
 The French character as thus developed, has been dif- 
 ferently described and estimated as different phases of it 
 have been brought under special review. The following 
 sketch of the French national character, taken from the 
 Edinburgh Uncijclopcedia will be found to hit off very briefly 
 many points of great interest. ''An excessive mobility and 
 a perpetual restless activity, produced by an exuberance of 
 animal spirits, form the essential ingredients of French 
 character. They are quick, ingenious, fertile in expedients 
 buoyant against difficulty or adversity ; but mutable, tri- 
 fling, confident, vain, credulous, and incapable of modera- 
 tion. With much that renders them amiable in society, 
 as readiness to oblige, delicate attentions, kind sympathy, 
 and lively sensibility, they are often of insecure commerce 
 from laxity of principle, unmeaning professions, jealous 
 irritability, and a strong propensity for intrigue. Their 
 feelings of every kind verge to excess ; and there is no- 
 thing materially good or bad of which they are not capable 
 under the influence of their impetuous ardor. The French 
 are, beyond all example, the creatures of society. By it 
 their manners and sentiments are fashioned, and in it are 
 centered their chief pleasures and gratifications. They 
 would excel all other nations in the art of conversation, 
 were not the desire of shining too universal. The love of 
 glory operates upon them with extraordinary force, and 
 stimulates them to great exertions ; but it is often attended 
 with empty ostentation and gasconade." 
 
 These are the salient points of the French character, 
 those lying at the foundation of the social workings of the 
 French people. The two men who, of all others, the .most 
 perfectly comprehended the real nature, inner composition 
 and outward working of this character were Louis XIY, 
 and N'apoleon I. The first arrived at it instinctively, the 
 second by observation and study. Probably no two sove- 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. I43 
 
 reigns ever so grievously oppressed the French people either 
 by a system of arbitrary taxation that extracted from their 
 pockets often the last dollar to enable them to carry on a 
 reckless but splendid expenditure, or by a cruel conscrip- 
 tion that consigned their young men to be butchered upon 
 foreign battle-fields. And yet no two names ever acquired 
 such wide, deep, and lasting popularity. Every French- 
 man felt a lively interest in everything pertaining to the 
 grand monarch, and all his expensive but splendid struct- 
 ures, and the great wars he carried on were only the means 
 ^ of linking him still more efiTectually to the very hearts of 
 the French people. This experience was not lost upon 
 I^apoleon. In his reign, and the acts by which it was 
 marked, we perceive a mirror reflecting with great fidelity 
 the outlines of French character. He was always in mo- 
 tion. At the head of armies, on the boulevards, sauntering 
 in the Louvre, he was the same ever restless, ever moving 
 body, striking where least expected, and astonishing by 
 the rapidity of his combinations, the celerity of his move- 
 ments, and the success that waited on the development of 
 his plans. His brilliant victories and splendid achievements ; 
 no matter at what an expenditure of blood and treasure 
 they were secured, only served to enshrine him in the 
 national heart. He made himself an embodiment, the 
 representative man of France. While absent on his Egypt- 
 ian expedition, the people of Paris became restive, and a 
 letter informed him that the people were on the eve of an 
 outbreak, a new revolution. He wrote back simply a 
 direction to " gild the dome of the Invalids." It was done 
 immediately, and all Paris in the talk about the new gilded 
 dome, in its criticisms and speculations concerning it, forgot 
 all about outbreak and revolution. He knew that all that 
 was necessary to turn the popular mind from blood and 
 barricades was to occupy it with something novel and 
 brilliant. 
 
 Any one viewing the development of the social element 
 in France will b.e probably the most struck with the pecu- 
 
144 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 liar position which woman has occupied, and the power 
 and influence she has exercised in hoth the private and 
 public affairs of the French government. The age of 
 chivalry strongly impressed itself upon the vivid concep - 
 tions of the French people. When it passed away it 
 bequeathed to them the legacy of ideas which it had been 
 its mission to develop. Those consisted in great part of 
 the gallantry, respect, and even adoration which were paid 
 to women. 
 
 The reign of Francis I, near the commencement of the 
 sixteenth century, was signalized by the introduction into" 
 the French court of the ideas of chivalry so far as related 
 to the treatment of women. His admiration and devotion 
 to the sex continued through life, and he had many mis- 
 tresses who, more or less, influenced his conduct. His doc- 
 trine was that " a court without women is a spring without 
 flowers," and, filling his palaces with courtiers and ladies, 
 he encouraged an easy intercourse between them. This 
 was soon found to produce very different consequences 
 from chivalry which sent its knight abroad in pursuit of 
 adventures while his lady-love remained at home but so 
 far isolated from society, especially of the other sex, as to 
 remain free from its corruptions. But when brought 
 within the seductive influences of a court, where every 
 species of allurement was practiced, and all that the most 
 enervating luxury could do was superadded, it is not cer- 
 tainly surprising that every moral bond should be weak- 
 ened or destroyed, and all the vices become alarmingly 
 prevalent. 
 
 The whole system of French society took its hue and co- 
 loring from the mould into which it was cast at this period, 
 and the ideas which then came to prevail. That which 
 seemed to shut out all hope of improvement, was that the 
 most debasing immoralities were embellished with the high- 
 est style of elegance; that every kind of thing was tolerated, 
 provided it was done with grace and courtliness. Gallants 
 affected the most generous homage, in imitation of the 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 145 
 
 age of chivalry, when the motive was purely selfish. A 
 certain mysteriousness was invoked where all was plain, 
 and certain things whispered about as secrets, which all 
 the world knew. The court became the hot-bed of in- 
 trigues of every kind, and to these, the female mind proved 
 about as fully competent as the male. Into these intrigues, 
 all more or less entered, and they were about equally 
 important and absorbing, whether they related to a na- 
 tional war, or the securing of a mistress to the monarch. 
 The latter was certainly an affair of no small moment, as 
 it amounted to surrendering him up for the time, to the 
 influences which the new comer had it in her power to 
 exert. It might effect as great a revolution in the adminis- 
 tration of the government, as a change of vote in the Eng- 
 lish parliament on the fate of the ministry. 
 
 The social system, thus inaugurated, continued through 
 the religious wars, the wars of the Guises, of the League, 
 the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the secret poison- 
 ings of the period of Brinvilliers and La Yoisin. Through 
 all this period, the influence and intrigues of women had 
 their full share in bringing about those fearful calamities. 
 
 On the accession of the house of Bourbon, towards the 
 close of the sixteenth century, and during the reign of 
 the great Henry the lY, the women reigned with almost 
 unbounded sway, at court. So far as related to balls, 
 entertainments, hunting parties, and other diversions, their 
 wishes entirely controlled. But they never could succeed 
 in prevailing upon him to discard his great minister, Sully, 
 and although his mistress, the fair Gabrielle, was admitted 
 to the dehberations on affairs of state, yet her, and their 
 influence over the cabinet and state councils, was not per- 
 mitted to be controlling. 
 
 The reign of his successor, Louis XIII, or more properly 
 of his minister. Cardinal Eichelieu, was very free from the 
 interference of women in the affairs of state. The mon- 
 arch himself, was less devoted to mistresses, and the im- 
 perious Richelieu would suffer no intrigues, except to 
 
 VI] 19 
 
146 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 advauce his own objects. But the death of the great car- 
 dinal and of Louis XTTT, and the surrender of the govern- 
 ment to the regency of Anne of Austria, during the 
 minority of Louis XIV, afforded an opportunity, by no 
 means to be neglected, to the reestablishment of female 
 influence and intrigue in matters of state. 
 
 These were the times of the Fronde, and perhaps 
 no other period of history presents a greater amount and 
 variety of female intrigue. The memoirs of the Cardinal 
 De Eetz, and the secret history of the French court, by 
 Cousin, give full details of the intrigues of this period. 
 Madame de Chevreuse, the Duchess de Montbazon, the 
 Duchess de Longueville, and others, largely participated 
 with the Cardinal de Eetz, in the intrigues and cabals of 
 that period. 
 
 The long reign of Louis XIY, covering the last half of 
 the seventeenth, and the forepart of the eighteenth century, 
 presents a period of great development of the social life in 
 France. It is court life of which the record has been kept, 
 and it was that which more or less influenced all the lower 
 forms. It has been said that at no other period did any 
 other court combine '' so much external splendor, with so 
 much internal wretchedness; pleasures so diversified and 
 so turbulent, with a silence so uniform and so profound ; 
 such ostentatious piety with such abominable depravity, 
 such a pompous etiquette, with such a shameless violation 
 of all the laws of decorum; finally, such a refinement of 
 language, and of the bon ton of society, with such a want 
 of real good sense,^ as the court of Louis XIV." He 
 required all families, and persons of distinction, who could 
 by any possibility afford it, to make' the court their usual 
 residence, and thus to swell his magnificent train. The 
 hotels of the great, like the courts of the king, became 
 the schools of politeness, where not only the graces, but 
 the vices of the courtiers were disseminated in the capital 
 
 Meiners's History of the Female Sex, iii, 69. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 147 
 
 and communicated to the provinces. So expensive was 
 the style of living, that a large portion of the nobility were 
 reduced by it to indigence. Under no other monarch was 
 the love of amusement and conviviality so generally com- 
 municated by the court to the higher classes, and thus 
 diffused through the metropolis and provinces.^ During 
 his reign occurred an important invention, a fertile source 
 of new profligacies, which has ever since played an import- 
 ant part in society in France. That was the masqued 
 balls, at which under the most perfect disguise, the great- 
 est moral enormities were practiced. The etiquette intro- 
 duced into the court of Louis XIV became that of most of 
 the other courts of Europe. It was principally distin- 
 guished by its exemption from all restraint, and by its 
 pomp and solemnity. 
 
 It has been remarked that during the reign of Louis XIV, 
 the women of the higher ranks were not only more polished 
 but possessed more solid attainments than the men. They, 
 more than the men, contributed to the improvement of the 
 language, of the bon ton in society, and of good taste in 
 composition.^ They set the best examples of wit, equally 
 delicate, pleasing and refined. It was the age of Madame 
 de Sevigne, the Grignans, De Yillars, and a multitude of 
 others, ladies happy in the selection and employment 
 of their words and phrases, who could often express a 
 whole sentiment in a single word, and charm by the suc- 
 cession and connection of their ideas. 
 - The state of morals during this period is described as 
 beyond measure deplorable. Chastity and conjugal fidelity 
 became subjects of ridicule. Married people first began to 
 be ashamed of each other. Husband and wife hardly ven- 
 tured to appear together in public.^ Fashion taught that 
 any other man had a better right to wives than their hus- 
 bands, and that any other woman had a better right to 
 husbands than their wives. The women lived continually 
 
 ^ Meiners's History of the Female Sex, iii, 106. ^ Idem, 121. ^ Idem, 177. 
 
148 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in the company of strange men, and the men in the society 
 of other women. Both sexes mutually encouraged the de- 
 pravity of each other. As the women lost the delicate 
 sense of modesty and shame, the men of course lost all 
 respect for them. The women who were the greatest 
 favorites of the men, were so much the worse wives and 
 mothers. Faithless wives became an occurrence so ex- 
 tremely common, that their husbands escaped both pity 
 and ridicule. 
 
 It is certainly not surprising that the blood of the 
 French nobility became depraved, and the distinctions of 
 rank almost abolished.^ Beautiful women were ready to 
 sacrifice their own honor, and that of their families to the 
 happiness of being the mistress of the king. Whole 
 families built the hope of honors and fortune on the beauty 
 of their daughters, encouraging them to make it their 
 study to gain the affections of the king. 
 
 The love of pleasure, pomp, and profusion worked a 
 total revolution in the general system of life, in dress, ha- 
 bitations, furniture, conveniences, and in the table, not 
 only among the higher, but also among the middling 
 classes, and through them, among the lowest orders of the 
 people.^ 
 
 The regency of the duke of Orleans that succeeded the 
 death of Louis XIV, surpassed his court in almost every 
 vice. All hypocrisy was now abandoned, and the most 
 shameless licentiousness prevailed. 
 
 The reign of Louis XY, so far as related to the immor- 
 alities of the monarch, exceeded all former reigns. Among 
 the many profligacies of his reign was the pare aux cerfs 
 in which Madame de Pompadour, the ruling, reigning 
 mistress, caused numbers of beautiful young girls to be 
 educated and trained for the use of the king. The de- 
 pravity of this reign was greater, more public and more 
 generally imitated, than that of the regency which pre- 
 
 Meiners's History of the Female Sex, in, 186 ^ Idem. 193. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 149 
 
 ceded it. So great was the depth of the French female 
 depravity, and such momentum had its corrupt current 
 acquired, that it continued among all classes, even after the 
 monarch s, both in principle and practice, gave a contrary 
 lesson to their subjects. 
 
 Louis XVI, the son of the most corrupt of monarchs, 
 and brought up in the most corrupt of courts, was entirely 
 different from his predecessors, and had the strongest 
 inclination to everything good. The stream of corruption 
 in general society kept on its course unbroken until it be- 
 came engulfed in the abyss of the revolution, when the 
 heads of the royal family, and all that remained in France 
 of the noblesse, fell beneath the guillotine ; the subversion 
 of female manners and morals was as fundamental as that 
 of every other part of the social state, and the vices of the 
 women fully kept pace with those of the men. It is true 
 the age of splendor, magnificence, and refinement had passed 
 away, but that of depravity had not. All the specious 
 gilding had vanished, and nothing but the naked depra- 
 vity remained, but that far exceeded all that had yet been 
 seen. Marriage, being one of the sacraments of the 
 catholic church, fell with the church.^ Hence the marriage 
 vow ceased to possess any force, and the commerce of the 
 sexes became promiscuous. The women took an active 
 part in all the massacres that were perpetrated. They laid 
 aside their refined immorality and courtly prostitutions for 
 blacker crimes. In the development of the social element 
 history offers no darker page than the reign of terror^ 
 
 From the social and political convulsion of the revolution 
 emerged, through a rapid succession of changes, the France 
 of the present day. It will be readily perceived that its 
 social element, more especially, has traveled through a his- 
 tory more extraordinary than that of any other people, and 
 which may well affect the character of its present and 
 future populations. 
 
 ^ Uhenevix, ii, 399. 
 
150 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 All classes of people but one, or possibly two, are repre- 
 sented in Paris. The peasant class, large in number, 
 although not in wealth or influence, have there no repre- 
 sentatives. It may be also well doubted whether the small 
 land holders, which are a very numerous body, are there 
 at all represented. With the exceptions of rural life, and 
 everything appertaining to it, it may perhaps be safe to 
 assume that " Paris is France." 
 
 The French in their persons are rather shorter than their 
 neighbors, and not quite as robust or large. The pure 
 type of the Teutonic stock, and even the mixtures of that 
 stock as they exist in England, are of a considerably larger 
 size. But the French are extremely active and well pro- 
 portioned, and more exempt from bodily deformity than 
 other nations. Their complexions are, in general, dark or 
 sallow, and this may, perhaps, have given rise to the custom 
 so generally practiced among the ladies of painting their 
 faces. The women in France have always been more 
 celebrated for vivacity and wit than personal beauty. 
 
 The superior people are particularly careful to accom- 
 plish themselves in the exercise of dancing, fencing, and 
 riding, in all which they generally excel their neighbors 
 in point of gracefulness. Some few of the princes of 
 the blood, and a few of the nobility, are more magni- 
 ficent in their palaces and equipages, than any of the 
 English ; but, as a general thing, and taking it especially 
 throughout France, they are much inferior to them in 
 those respects. 
 
 The two points in which English and French life are 
 brought into marked contrast, are the domestic and social. 
 In the former, centre the English ; in the latter, the French. 
 The former seek for their pleasures in their homes ; the 
 latter, in general society. There is probably no species of 
 life so eminently social as the French. From these two 
 points, home, and the social circle outside of home, radi- 
 ate very many of the peculiar traits that characterize each 
 nationality* 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 151 
 
 Social life tends to become diffuse and varied, frivolous, 
 and restless. It originates the desire of pleasing. Gayety 
 and vivacity are its constant attendants. Sparkling witi- 
 cisms, the elegant bon mot, the ready retort, are the ever 
 current coin of French society. To render one's self 
 happy by constantly making everybody else so, is the 
 great effort of the higher classes. Even in the lower, and 
 among the common people, the practice of politeness, of 
 mutual deference to each other's wants and wishes, is 
 always practiced. That which preeminently constitutes 
 the social element, the unceasing study and practice of 
 the agreeable, is more fully carried out by the French, 
 than by any other people. This, it is true, has led to the 
 charge that they are heartless and hypocritical. The 
 answer to the first is, that heart has nothing whatever to 
 do with the matter. N^either affection, nor real benevo- 
 lence, have necessarily anything to do with the finest de- 
 velopment of the social element. 
 
 The answer to the last is, that there is no designed 
 hypocrisy practiced. The Frenchman, in his lavish pro- 
 fessions of the most intimate regard, is using words in 
 accordance with the custom of his country. He means 
 them in the sense only in which Frenchmen understand 
 them. They are intended for the meridian of Paris, and 
 not for that of London. They are only made use of as 
 forms of expression, and never as a cloak to conceal hos- 
 tility. Frenchmen are never deceived by them, a very 
 good evidence that the charge is groundless. 
 
 The French character and mode of developing social 
 life is so directly the antipodes of the English that it is 
 hardly possible for the one to entertain a proper apprecia- 
 tion of the other. With the latter it is the home and inner 
 life that are the most cultivated ; with the former, society 
 and the outer life. The points of divergence commence 
 early, and continue to grow as they progress. 
 
 That union from which all society is derived, and the 
 principles presiding over married life, offer peculiarities 
 
152 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 among the French differing from those of most other peo- 
 ple. Marriage among them is a union of interests, very 
 seldom indeed of the affections. It is a mere business 
 arrangement for the mutual convenience of both parties. 
 It is preceded by a life of seclusion on the part of the 
 female. Girls in the higher classes are either educated by 
 governesses, or placed in boarding schools where all com- 
 munication with the other sex is cut off. So full of depra- 
 vity is the external world regarded, that the boys are 
 subjected to the same kind of treatment. Both boyhood 
 and girlhood in France, among the higher classes, are 
 passed in great seclusion. From the silent, listless boy and 
 girl, knowing little, and seeming to care still less, about 
 how things are going on in the world, guarded night and 
 day as securely as if they were criminals, evincing no live- 
 liness of tongue or manner, spiritless of limb and sluggish 
 of movement, one would hardly expect as an outgrowth, 
 the kind of character which after years exhibits so fully 
 to the world. It only evidences what in almost everything 
 else is fully apparent, viz : that the French character is 
 full of many seeming paradoxes, some very difficult to be 
 reconciled with each other. 
 
 To the boy manhood, to the girl marriage bring the 
 same thing, viz : social liberty ; and the excesses of which 
 both are often guilty in its enjoyment are no doubt due in 
 part to the studied seclusion in which they are brought up. 
 
 The marriage is a mere matter of business. It is the 
 result of a negotiation with the parent or guardian of the 
 lady in which age or health, or even beauty, are but little 
 regarded, the great point of inquiry relating to the amount 
 of dowry she can bring. The husband is purchased by the 
 money which the bride is enabled to furnish. In this 
 manner great inequalities of age and incompatibilities of 
 temper are very frequently brought together. This to the 
 female would be utterly insupportable in idea, were it not 
 for the liberty, the free enjoyment of what life offers, with 
 all the brilliant anticipations which a life of seclusion is so 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 153 
 
 ready to promise, whicli married state brings along witli it. 
 This is generally a sufficient inducement to gain her con- 
 sent to wed a man almost or quite a stranger. 
 
 But those who suppose that a French heart can subsist 
 without love are much mistaken. I^Tature is true to her 
 trust there as everywhere else. When married, they love 
 their partners if they are able. If not, then somebody else. 
 But they always preserve appearances. An elopement 
 would violate the proprieties of life, and hence is seldom, 
 if ever, witnessed. There is constantly practiced great 
 mutual discretion. Husbands and wives are blind to the 
 loves of each other. They have no right in strictness to be 
 otherwise. Neither can complain that there is any viola- 
 tion of faith. Both have got what they bargained for, the 
 one, liberty ; the other, money. Love was no party to the 
 contract. He would undoubtedly be welcomed were he to 
 make his home with them. ITot arriving, each seeks a 
 congenial companion. The husband continues the habits 
 of his bachelor life, the wife revels in the new liberty of 
 which she finds herself the possessor. " Every man is be- 
 lieved to have his mistress," and every married woman, 
 her liberty; and how far she pushes the enjoyment of that 
 is never a matter to be presumed. 
 
 The modes often resorted to, to bring about marriage, are 
 in harmony with the character of it once effected. The 
 French have great directness in the means of accomplishing 
 their purposes. You will read in the public paper a notice 
 to the effect that "A female orphan, possessing a good 
 fortune, having immediate occasion to marry, desires a 
 husband. Address, etc., etc." Marriage agencies are 
 established all over Paris,^ and advertisements are found, 
 " M. deFoy,negotiator of marriages, to mothers of families." 
 The house of M. Foy in France has branches in England, 
 Belgium, Germany and America. 
 
 ^ Parisian Sights, etc., i, 29. 
 VI] 20 
 
154 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 In marriages thus effected, and upon such principles, 
 what shall be thought of the homes of France ? Even the 
 French language hardly admits it. It is simply " chez- 
 moi " a spot where the individual " moi " may he located, 
 sometimes where he sleeps, oftener where he eats ; where 
 he finds it most for his individual pleasure to he. " It is 
 wherever he shines brightest or dazzles most. His plea- 
 sures consist in the outer life, the external gilding; bright 
 and beautiful without,^ but often like gold leaf, covering 
 what is decayed and hollow within." There lacks the 
 motive to surround his home with delights, and the differ- 
 ence in his appearance there and elsewhere is generally 
 well marked. 
 
 Few things in France strike a stranger with more 
 force than the intimate relations existing between the 
 social and political elements, and the intimate depend- 
 ence of the former upon the latter. Instead of the go- 
 vernment resting upon the aggregate of persons living 
 under it, as in England and America, there is here a 
 complete reversal, and the individual rests upon the go- 
 vernment, which itself forms the great base of society. 
 This is more especially apparent in its police, and its 
 charities. 
 
 It is astonishing to what minutiae the police regulations 
 extend. In Paris alone, its prefect has a corps of three 
 hundred clerks. His bureau is divided into several differ- 
 ent departments, each having its own special functions, 
 but all, when necessary, rendering mutual assistance. 
 There is, for instance, the chief of the conservators of 
 public safety, who ferrets out the perpetrators of crime ; 
 the chief who watches over all persons of doubtful political 
 views, clandestine gaming houses, etc. ; one who regulates 
 the houses of ill-fame; another the public vehicles ; another, 
 the boats that navigate the Seine, prescribing what they 
 shall bring, and how they shall unlade their cargoes; 
 
 ^ Parisian Sights, etc., ii, 52. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 155 
 
 another regulates the price and sale of provisions, which 
 they suppose if left to regulate itself/ would by its fierce 
 competition, either ruin those who should embark in it, 
 or injuriously affect their customers by the frauds they 
 would be driven to perpetrate. Another still has the 
 charge of everything relating to the public health, such as 
 drains, closets, gas establishments, etc. Thus, the govern- 
 ment is made to extend to, and regulate the most common 
 affairs of life. Every steam engine must be thoroughly 
 tested, before being used ; every manufacture deleterious 
 to health must be completely isolated ; not a pig can be 
 killed in Paris ; the exterior of every building is subjected to 
 rigid supervision, to see that there are no faulty chimneys, 
 insecure shutters, sign boards, or encumbered side-walks. 
 Each profession is supervised,^ and required to be compe- 
 tent to exercise its calling. Quackery is compelled to 
 contest with the police, with little chance of success. 'No 
 patent medicines can be vended or advertised, until they 
 have been examined and approved. Provisions are also 
 subject to the same thorough inspection, as medicines. 
 Wines and liquors have their regular tasters. Even the 
 price of meat and bread is a matter of police regulation. 
 
 The system of French police is, perhaps the most perfect 
 in existence. It is by no means confined to its uniformed 
 agents, who, being known, are easily avoided. Besides 
 these, there are the secret agents, whose eyes and ears are 
 in every cafe, restaurant, corner, or place of assemblage, 
 viewing, unseen; and hearing, unheard. Of Protean shape 
 and chameleon color, they are at home in all localities. 
 The musician at his organ, the commissionaire at the cor- 
 ner of the street, the porter at the door, who, through the 
 kitchen, can learn what transpires in the parlor; each has 
 his mission, and all aid in perfecting a system of espionage 
 which ramifies through all classes of society. They are 
 not alone in the employ of the government. Their ser- 
 
 Parisian Sights, etc., i, 138, 139. "^ Idem, 141. 
 
156 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 vices, for a consideration, can be enlisted by individuals, 
 Through their aid, the husband can follow his wife, and the 
 wife her husband, through all the devious windings of Paris. 
 
 This rigid system of police seems to be a necessity in 
 France. It has lived and thrived through every govern- 
 ment, the monarchy, empire, and republic. It has also 
 adopted means the best calculated to effect its ends. Every 
 workman is required to have a livret, or species of pass- 
 port, indorsed by the police, without which he is treated 
 as a vagabond, and any one employing him is subject to a 
 heavy fine. 
 
 But on the other hand vice has its own systematized 
 organization. The world of robbers is a numerous one, 
 and embraces every category of crime. There exist in 
 Paris professors of robbery, who hold regular courses of 
 lectures,^ in which they explain theoretically every species 
 of theft, accompanying them with practical illustrations 
 upon manikins constructed for the purpose. 
 
 So also beggary has its organization, its schools and 
 professors. The French give to distress very generously, 
 and perhaps somewhat indiscriminately. The ofiicial num- 
 ber of mendicants in France is 4,000,000, or one in nine 
 of the entire population. The scale on which France or- 
 ganizes her benevolence is stupendous. Her expenditures 
 for hospitals are enormous. The Foundling Hospital 
 receives all the infants brought to it for support. Among 
 the most beneficial organizations for the purposes of bene- 
 volence are the sisters of charity, which alone of all the 
 institutions of the catholic church, went through the reign 
 of terror not only unmolested, but sustained and respected. 
 French wit, philosophy, skepticism, and revolutions, have 
 always equally respected the sisters of charity. " Their 
 rule is that of universal brotherhood, their sacrifice the en- 
 tire renunciation of the world, and their faith that active 
 charity which is the bond of peace and good will among 
 
 ^ Parisian Sights, etc., i, 145. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 157 
 
 men." " Their post is at the bedside of disease and death, 
 carrying help and hope across the threshold of poverty, 
 comforting and taming maniac violence and criminal desire 
 by that principle whose soft answers and heavenly deeds 
 turn away wrath, and bring alike all human passion sub- 
 missive and hopeful at the feet of a Saviour." Well, there- 
 fore, may infidels and atheists, republicans and imperialists, 
 enemies and friends of Rome acknowledge their services to 
 humanity. Those composing this sisterhood are not alone 
 the disappointed and afflicted whom the world has cast off.'^ 
 They are often the young, the comely, who have left 
 homes of affluence. They are at liberty at any time to re- 
 turn and reunite with the circle they had forsaken. 
 " Theirs is the unorganized charity of the heart, the spon- 
 taneous offering of individual piety." " While distinctions 
 and organizations exist among men, the humble garb of 
 the sisters of charity, as they pass silently and quietly 
 through the streets of Paris on their errands of mercy, will 
 serve to remind both the protestant and the catholic that 
 the religion that visits and comforts the widow and father- 
 less still exists in the world." This institution, in its real 
 spirit and essence, is peculiarly French, and as it often 
 exhibits the most complete self-renunciation in the very 
 midst of the highest degree of worldly enjoyment, affords 
 one of the instances in illustration of the strange anoma- 
 lies, not to say contradictious, that are to be found in the 
 French character. 
 
 Another institution peculiarly French, and of which the 
 offices of the sisters of charity rendered by the bedside of 
 the dying is suggestive, is the morgue of Paris. It is the 
 place of the dead, a plain Doric building in which behind 
 a glass partition,^ entirely naked with the exception oi 
 waist cloths, and laid out upon inclined slabs, having tiny 
 streams of water directed over, them to keep them fresh, 
 are kept for three days the bodies of all persons found 
 
 ^ Parisian Sights, 6i^c.,%303. ^/cZ^m, 49. 
 
158 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 divested of life. There are deposited the bodies of all 
 those who encounter death by accident or suicide. The 
 latter furnishes the largest contributions, for it is another 
 anomaly, or seeming contradiction, in French character, 
 that in the very midst of all lifes' highest and brightest 
 enjoyments, without any, or with the slighest apparent 
 reason, the fatal step is taken that plunges its subject into 
 the unkonwn future. The annual number of suicides in 
 France is about twenty-five hundred. 
 
 The object of this is the identification of the bodies by 
 their friends, and if not identified and claimed within the 
 three days they are buried at the public expense. 
 
 This is a strange show in the very heart of civilization. 
 Its daily exhibition attracts a constantly changing crowd 
 of young and old of both sexes, who, with prying curiosity, 
 cold and speculating in its character, examine the lifeless 
 remains, often accompanying their scrutiny with coarse 
 jests and ribald laughter. In a city, however, where death 
 by accident or suicide is so constantly occurring, such an 
 institution has its obvious utility, and its suddenly break- 
 ing upon one's vision amid so many scenes of surrounding 
 life and action, furnishes another of those contrasts or 
 strange contradictions everywhere diversifying the social 
 life of the French people. 
 
 The French, in large cities, especially in Paris, so con- 
 struct their houses as to form a hollow square with a court 
 yard in the centre. This admits of two ranges of apart- 
 ments, the one facing the street, the other the court yard, 
 while the two connecting arms contain the kitchen and 
 other conveniences. They are from Rve to nine stories 
 high, each range or story having its wide circular staircase 
 for the gentry and its small dark way for the domestics. 
 "While the ground floor is devoted to shops, stables, and 
 the porters' quarters, the stories above accommodate two 
 families on each fioor, each having its separate kitchen 
 and drains, and the residents of the different stories being 
 generally strangers to each other. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 159 
 
 But the French have a great reputation for living out 
 of doors. They seem ever ready to escape from their home 
 nests, of which they are not particularly vain, especially of 
 the odors that visit the olfactories in each apartment with 
 the accessions derived from every other. The city cafes 
 and restaurants meet with very extensive patronage, 
 especially those of lesser magnitude, on Sunday, a day when 
 it is asserted no Frenchman dines under his own roo£^ 
 The rush is then fearful both of individuals and entire 
 families. The habit is very early formed by the French- 
 man of becoming familiar with restaurants and cafes, 
 spending his evenings at the latter, reading the journals, 
 dissipating and playing chess or other games. It is the 
 cafe that does much to educate the Frenchman, while 
 the club is about equally important in the education of 
 the Englishman. A Frenchman breakfasts at noon, dines 
 when the American sups, and returns from balls at a not 
 very early hour in the morning.^ Much of French life in 
 Paris is spent on the boulevards; in the baths on the 
 Seine, and at the salons, theatres, balls and places of amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 The boulevards are the broad avenues surrounding old 
 Paris. Spacious, shaded, and bounded by palatial struc- 
 tures, they constitute the empire of the curious, the vain, 
 and the idler of every fashionable class. The macadamized 
 way is as smooth as a jointed floor, allowing thousands of 
 gay equipages to roll noiseless over its surface. At certain 
 times in the day it is the great focus of Parisian life. 
 Every fashion finds itself a home. It is the jubilee of 
 fashions, and the paradise of manners. The Parisian 
 crowd has been compared in its onward flow to the current 
 of a deep river. The very crowd is so instinct with polite- 
 ness that there is no invasion of individual rights, or if any 
 such should happen by accident the prompt apology is ever 
 ready, leaving behind an agreeable reminiscence rather 
 
 ^ Parisian, Sights and French Principles, i, 17. "^ Idem, 25, 26. 
 
160 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 than the contrary. At night the splendors of gas are super- 
 added, and the boulevards are in a blaze of light. It is 
 then that they appear to the best advantage, and that every 
 one is abroad for pleasure. 
 
 N'ext to the boulevards the banks of the Seine present 
 as if in strong contrast the march of working life as the 
 heavy arm of labor plies its tasks on the. quays, and in 
 stores, vessels and workshops. A feature of no small 
 interest, here, are the bathing houses, with every variety of 
 drice and every style of luxury. Here Monsieur, having 
 made and remade his bath, " nicely graduating the tempera- 
 ture to his varying and delightful sensations," spends 
 sometimes hours in dosing or in reading. But no French- 
 man can be long happy without talking, and accordingly 
 at the head of every bathing tub there is a slide 4n the 
 partition, which by pushing back enables him to discharge 
 his excess of volubility upon his neighbor in the next 
 room who may happen to be similarly engaged. Some- 
 times the apparatus is double-tubbed, thus aflbrding both 
 the opportunity of exercising their colloquial powers with- 
 out interruption from others. 
 
 To the French, more than to any other people, amuse- 
 ments seem to be a matter of necessity. The demand ori- 
 ginating from this necessity, has called into existence a 
 number and variety nowhere else found. Among these 
 the theatre plays a conspicuous part. The Frenchman 
 could not exist without the play-house. "It is his school 
 of manners; his forum of educatix)n ; his teacher of history; 
 the parent of his ideas ; a living monument, in which anti- 
 quity reappears in the present. The clergy have been 
 banished and massacred ; the churches sacked and dese- 
 crated; but the drama has triumphantly held its own, 
 through every revolution, oftener giving law to society than 
 imitating it." 
 
 It is not alone the higher classes that frequent the theatre. 
 All classes, except perhaps the very lowest, go to them. 
 The theatres present the means of action the most direct, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 161 
 
 the most prompt, and the most continuous upon the masses. 
 Their mission is not simply to amuse, but also to inspire a 
 correct taste, to counteract an increasing tendency to 
 coarseness of manners, and to teach the art de vivre among 
 the French people. 
 
 But, unfortunately, while its agency in polishing the 
 manners, refining the conduct, and in giving a good taste 
 in the use of language may be admitted, yet its influence 
 upon morals has always been unfortunate. The vice lying 
 at the foundation of everything in France is that the art 
 de vivre as understood there does not embrace useful and 
 solid qualities, the purity of domestic life, or the develop- 
 ment of correct principles. The theatre can therefore have 
 no moral aim. This is noticeable in Compt's theatre^ for 
 children, at which, although a slight attempt is occasionally 
 made to point a moral, yet the great burden of the per- 
 formance is to amuse by jokes, and ludicrous spectacles or 
 to frighten by phantoms and hobgoblins. Among these a 
 bear hunt and giving a clyster to a cat may be mentioned 
 as illustrations. 
 
 The general character of the pieces performed at the 
 theatre is loose and corrupting. Their tendency is to in- 
 crease the prevailing sentiment of ridicule toward a deceived 
 husband, and to enlist the sympathies in the success of the 
 intriguing of either sex. Besides, they pander grossly to 
 the taste for double entendre and the wanton exposure of 
 the female person.- They cannot exhibit the poetry of 
 motion without nature unadorned. And what renders 
 everything the more dangerous is that the subtle poison of 
 the stage, is united with so much that is captivating to the 
 senses and gratifying to the intellect. 
 
 The direction of the theatres is too important to be left 
 to chance. In this, also, the government has a right to in- 
 terfere, which it not unfrequently exercises. This right 
 rests in part upon the support which it is compelled to ren- 
 
 ^ Parisian, 8ights arid French Principles, i, 190. 
 VI] 21 
 
162 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 der them. The annual amount which has been paid by 
 the French government for the support of the theatres in 
 Paris has amounted to two hundred and eighty thousand 
 dollars.^ 
 
 There is a system of claquery connected with the con- 
 ducting of the French theatre. This consists of a body of 
 claquers, some fifty persons, located in the centre of the 
 parquette, just under the chandelier, who are most tho- 
 roughly drilled in the art of applauding. They are an 
 organized body, having their regular leaders, whose 
 motions they follow with great regularity. They bestow 
 their applause in accordance with the movements of their 
 chief, and a dramatic performance is either applauded into 
 notice or dismissed with a sullen silence as the compensation 
 bestowed rises or diminishes in amount. 
 
 The women have always played an important part in 
 the social and even the political life of the French people. 
 Their aptitude and adroitness at private intrigue have no- 
 where been so fully tested as at Paris. There has probably 
 been no other instance in which political power has drawn 
 from social life so much to sustain and give it efficacy. 
 l!^o other government has ever been so largely indebted to 
 gallantry in the shaping of its plans and purposes, and in 
 devising means for their execution. Cardinal Mazarin be- 
 ing congratulated on the repose he was about to taste, re- 
 plied " that one never can promise himself repose in France 
 and that even the women there are greatly to be feared.^ 
 You Spaniards may well speak of your ease. Your women 
 trouble themselves about nothing but love, but it is not so 
 in France. We have three there now who would be quite 
 capable of governing or of overthrowing three great king- 
 doms, the Duchess de Longueville, the princess palatine, and 
 Madame de Chevreuse." The political life of the latter, 
 so fully given by Cousin, extends through much of the reign 
 
 ^ Parisian Sights and French Principles, i, 194. ^ Cousin's Secret History 
 of the French Court, 5. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 163 
 
 of Eichelieu and Mazariu. It was in reference to her that 
 Cousin says, " I never saw any one else m whom intuition 
 could supply the place of judgment.^ She often suggested 
 expedients so brilliant that they seemed like flashes of 
 lightning, and so wise that they would not have been dis- 
 owned by the greatest men of any age." And yet Madame 
 de Chevreuse was a woman in the fullest sense, and in 
 this lay her strength and also her weakness. Her first 
 impulse was love or gallantry, and she espoused the interests 
 of the one she loved. This lady was the opponent of 
 Eichelieu in the adroit political intrigues, which signalized 
 the close of the reign of Louis XHI ; and in the struggle 
 of Cardinal Mazarin at the commencement of his ministry, 
 he encountered no more powerful adversary, or none who 
 gave him more anxiety than she.^ It was mainly to the 
 intrigues of women that the wars of the Fronde owed their 
 origin, continuance and conclusion. 
 
 France, more than any other modern nation,^ has repro- 
 duced the Grecian period of Aspasia. JS'inon de TEnclos 
 and Marion Delorme inherited both the accomplishments 
 and the vices of their Grecian sister. It was by no means 
 the beauty alone of these modern Aspasias, that secured 
 them success. The intellectual fascinations, and refine- 
 ments, epicurean and corrupting, of which they had so 
 thorough a mastery, gave to their other charms irresistible 
 power. Women, uniting in themselves education, beauty, 
 and wit, maintain an empire in Paris, unequaled else- 
 where, in extent and influence. N"owhere else qan be 
 found so many women of wit and genius mingling in the 
 assemblies and festive occasions of literary men ; and pro- 
 bably in no part of the world is literary society so refined, 
 so brilliant, and so intellectual, as in Paris. 
 
 But woman there, in acquiring and perpetuating her 
 supremacy, has the good sense to depend upon her own 
 
 ^ Goudn's Secret History of the French Court, 9. ^ Idem, 6. ^ Parisian 
 Sights and French Principles, 2d series, 85. 
 
164 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 legitimate attractions. Her beauty is less marked and 
 characteristic than that of the German,- English, Italian 
 or Spanish. Her force and power lies more in the peculiar 
 spirit by which her beauty is animated, and also in the 
 resources at her command, in resisting the assaults of time. 
 While the^women of other nations lose their hair, teeth, 
 lustre of eye, and elasticity of step,^ the French woman, 
 by resorting to the arts of the toilet, is enabled to baffle, 
 for a long time, the tendencies to decay, and retain her 
 empire in its integrity. She seems ever embalmed in the 
 spirit of youth. Society in France is not limited to the 
 young and thoughtless, whose highest aim is amusement. 
 It is not the graces of dancing that are alone cultivated. 
 The art of conversation is cultivated and carried to a high 
 degree of perfection. The Parisian lady, so long as she 
 can enter a drawing room, never grows old. While she 
 preserves the delicacy of the woman, she acquires the good 
 sense of the man. Having outlived the day of passion, 
 she enters, undisturbed, the empire of reason. The atten- 
 tion she receives then flows from respect as well as affection. 
 While her memory is a storehouse of anecdotes for the 
 young, her experience and observation furnish wise sug- 
 gestions to the mature.^ It has been said that " every 
 statesman, artist, poet, in short, every man, who has not 
 passed some years in the intimacy of old Parisian women, 
 has failed in his education of the world ; and that sooner 
 or later, his life will resent this wrong." The men of 
 fashion go from one salon to another on the same night, 
 equally at home with every one, but once in the street, 
 only their former associates are remembered. While in 
 society, each contributes his individual quota to the general 
 enjoyment; while out, resuming his individual liberty and 
 retirement. 
 
 The salon and cafe is to French society very much what 
 the club is to the English, The first, however, has been 
 
 ^Parisian SigJits and French Principles, 2d series, 86, ^Idem, 88. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 165 
 
 subject to mucli variation. It was the most brilliant at tlie 
 breaking out of the revolution of 1789. There was a linger- 
 ing remnant kept alive by Madame de Stael, and a tempo- 
 rary revival under Madame Roland, but still the melancholy 
 truth became apparent that the salons and the scaffold 
 could not coexist together. 
 
 The former sank beneath the reign of terror, but revived 
 on its termination. It was brilliant under the empire, and 
 under the restoration came a new reign, that of eleven 
 women, with some beauty but more of the aristocratic 
 manners.^ With the government of Louis Philippe came 
 a new race of women, characterized by boldness of concep- 
 tion, cavalier-like manners, sensibilities susceptible of deep 
 emotions, but only for positive things, or where their in- 
 terests were concerned. 
 
 Another development of social life in France, and one 
 in which the activities of women are unceasing, relates to 
 the changing style of fashion. Paris dispenses fashion to 
 the civilized world. In dress, ornament, and manners, 
 she controls without a rival. In all the changes for which 
 fashion is so proverbial, she takes the initiatory step. 
 These changes depend upon no law except simply the love 
 of variety. To bring them about requires invention, 
 activity, and ingenuity. It depletes the purses of the rich, 
 while it feeds, clothes, and houses half of France. Having 
 borrowed from every nation its peculiarity, and passed it 
 through the alembic of its own taste, it is again returned 
 in its modified form for use. To attempt to trace out the dif- 
 ferent fashions as they have been promulgated through the 
 outcrop of Parisian life, would present an almost endless 
 task, and in the end would be productive of little else than 
 to show the strange extent to which the whim or the fancy 
 of the hour could carry the moving masses of humanity. 
 
 The French have in some instances manifested great 
 levity of character. As an illustration of this it is stated 
 
 ^ Eclectic Magazine, 1805, 838. 
 
166 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 that while those in prison were almost daily decimated by 
 the guillotine during the reign of terror, yet their daily 
 amusement was to play at charades and the guillotine/ 
 To do this all assembled in one of the halls, where they 
 formed a revolutionary tribunal, consisting of accusers and 
 judges, and all the necessary adjuncts of a court. " Then 
 came the mock trial, and the sentence of death following 
 close upon the accusation. They simulated the toilet of 
 the condemned, preparing the neck for the knife by feign- 
 ing: to cut the hair and collar. The sentenced were then 
 attached to a chair reversed, to represent the guillotine. 
 The knife was of wood, and, as it fell, the individual thus 
 sporting with approaching fate, tumbled down as if actually 
 struck by the iron blade. Often while engaged in this 
 play they were summoned to pass through the awful 
 reality." 
 
 The French character taken altogether is very much of 
 a puzzle. There are certainly many elements of greatness 
 in the composition of the French mind. To its profound- 
 est exercises science is largely indebted for its advancement 
 in modern times. 
 
 6. Society as it has developed and is developing itself 
 among the Scandinavian nations. 
 
 Scandinavia offers very great variety in its population. 
 There reside the Danes, the Swedes, the IS'orwegians, the 
 Lapps and the Finns. Very few countries of the same 
 extent present so many distinct nationalities. 
 
 We have before had occasion to speak generally of the 
 early Scandinavians ; their love of liberty; their energy of 
 purpose and of character ; their strong military tendencies ; 
 the manliness of their sports and habits. All this had 
 reference more especially to the inhabitants of Denmark, 
 Sweden and I^orway. We shall now speak of them 
 separately, and in regard to their more modern exhibitions. 
 
 Parisian Sights ami French Principles, 3d series, 136, 137. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. Ig7 
 
 The Danes are divided into several classes. There are: 
 1. The nobility, the ov^ners of fiefs,^ the privileged class, 
 formerly of great importance. 2. The titular nobility, the 
 companions of the Danish orders of knighthood, persons 
 filling the higher offices of the state. 3. The inferior clergy, 
 lawyers, and students. 4. The merchants and the citizens 
 of great towns. 5. The seamen and population engaged 
 in agriculture. 
 
 The Danes have regular and well formed features; fre- 
 quently fair or brownish hair, blue eyes, and a body capable 
 of sustaining great fatigue. The women are of a more 
 delicate frame, with a dazzling white complexion, but their 
 features possessing little animation, and subject to early 
 decay. 
 
 The nobility formerly resided on their own estates, living 
 independent lives, with great magnificence and hospitality, 
 and when the states were convened, meeting the king 
 with retinues both numerous and superb. But their con- 
 dition became entirely changed when the king assumed 
 absolute sway.^ Then they became impoverished by exor- 
 bitant taxes, so that many of them often found it difficult 
 to procure the means of subsistence. The consequence 
 was, that if they lacked the interest at court to obtain a 
 civil or military appointment, they lived obscurely in their 
 half ruined palaces, sheltering them from the exactions of 
 collectors by all the industry, influence and address they 
 were master of. Compelled to live in this manner, they 
 could not expect to inherit the spirit and virtues of their 
 ancestors. They would naturally become servile, indolent, 
 ostentatious, extravagant, and oppressive. 
 
 It has been suggested that possibly the humidity of the 
 atmosphere,^ and the quantity of salted meat and fish used 
 by the Danes, may have contributed to render their cha- 
 racter dull, patient, and difficult to move. The portrait of 
 
 ^ BelVs Geography, i, 137. ^ Trmels through Europe, iii, 215. ^ Malte 
 Brun, viiT, 577. 
 
108 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the Dane has been thus given: "He is brave, but pacific; 
 possessed of little enterprise, but laborious and persevering, 
 He is diffident, but proud; hospitable, but not officious; 
 cheerful and open with his countrymen, but somewhat 
 cold and ceremonious towards strangers; loving his ease 
 more than show ; more economical than industrious ; some- 
 times from vanity, and sometimes from laziness, an imi- 
 tator of others; a judicious observer, a profound thinker, 
 but slow and minute ; endowed with an imagination more 
 strong than rich; constant, romantic, and jealous in his 
 affections; capable of great enthusiasm, but rarely of those 
 flashes of intellect, or sallies of .wit, which, by their unex- 
 pectedness, demand and obtain victory and applause; 
 strongly attached to his native soil, and to the interests of 
 his country, but caring little about national glory ; accus- 
 tomed to the calm of monarchy, but the enemy of slavery 
 and arbitrary power." 
 
 Extravagance of every kind is still a very general dispo- 
 sition of the Danes. It displays itself in various ways. 
 The country seats of the nobility still retain a portion of 
 their ancient splendor, although with a great declension of 
 their former magnificence. There are still many families 
 exhibiting much of elegance and refinement. 
 
 Danish extravagance is very likely to manifest itself in 
 sumptuous burials and splendid monuments. It is quite 
 common to keep the corpse of a person of quality in a 
 vault,^ or in the chancel of some church, for several years 
 till a fit opportunity presents itself for celebrating the 
 funeral obsequies with great magnificence. 
 
 To the eyes of the traveler, Dr. Clarke, a journey from 
 London to Copenhagen might exhibit the retrocession of a 
 century; everything being found, in the latter city,^ as it 
 existed in the former a hundred years before. And this 
 observation he extends not only to the amusements, the 
 dress and the manners of the people, but to the general 
 
 ^BelVs Oeograpliy, i, 137. ^ ClarMs Tranels in Sccmdinavia, i, 82. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 169 
 
 state of everything connected with Danish society. In 
 literature, neither zeal nor industry is wanted ; but, com- 
 pared with the rest of Europe, the Danes are always be- 
 hind in the progress of science. 
 
 Sweden is thinly peopled. The Swedish monarch, it 
 has been said, should be styled the lord of the woods, 
 because of the interminable forests that are spread over 
 his domain. The woods having no undergrowth, the eye 
 is enabled to penetrate into the depth of shade, and in the 
 distance strange forms appear visible,^ which might be 
 taken for supernatural appearances, and thus give origin 
 to stories of ghosts, goblins and demons dimly passing in 
 the thickest gloom of the wilderness. 
 
 The inhabitants of the south and the north of Sweden 
 are described as differing from each other.^ In the south 
 is an admixture of the people of other nations; but in the 
 north the inhabitants are more strictly Swedes. They are 
 the descendants of a German o- Celtic tribe, and are related 
 to the E^ormans and Danes. 
 
 The change of the seasons varies much the amusements 
 and occupations of the people. During summer those pos- 
 sessed of fortune quit the town and retire into the country, 
 where they have houses fitted up in a style of great mag- 
 nificence and luxury.^ There the ceremonies and stiffness 
 that prevail at town entertainments are, as much as possi- 
 ble, laid aside. The merchants are the richest class of 
 society, and they live in the most unrestrained manner, so 
 far as etiquette is concerned, their houses being the most 
 agreeable and the best maintained. The nobility find it im- 
 possible wholly to divest themselves of that formality which 
 seems to be a part of their inheritance, and consequently 
 are less fitted for enjoying the pleasures of the country. 
 
 The Swedes have no horse-racing, or hunting, or hawk- 
 ing. They have sometimes carriage races and boat races, 
 called regattas, but their great social occupation is found 
 
 ^ Gla/rk&'s Scandinavia, i, 113. ^ Idem, 209. ^ AcerU, i, 45. 
 VI] 22 
 
170 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in the playing of cards and other games of hazard. Eoth 
 ladies and gentlemen, old and young, dream of no other 
 enjoyment than this. In all their social gatherings this 
 game occupies a prominent position. Balls are also in- 
 cluded among the winter amusements. These are fre- 
 quented only by people of fashion. But there are also side 
 apartments for card-players. 
 
 The Swedish ladies are handsome.^ Their countenances 
 express tranquillity and composure of mind, and indicate 
 nothing of that passion and fire visible in the features of the 
 French and Italian ladies. They pass much of their time 
 alone or amongst themselves, and hence when in company 
 with the other sex, they manifest a less happy art of sup- 
 porting conversation with vivacity than the French and 
 Italian ladies. They pay great attention to dress, endea- 
 voring to outshine their rivals in elegance and splendor. 
 They are fond of admiration and praise, and desire public 
 notice and distinction. Not only their passions but their 
 sentiments of friendship and attachment are less strong 
 than in those of warmer climates. 
 
 But this coldness of temperament on the part of females 
 is assigned as the cause of excessive licentiousness in the 
 inferior orders. They think they can never give enough, 
 because they feel so little in bestowing the greatest favors.^ 
 There are no women of the town in Stockholm, but there 
 are kept mistresses who maintain a rank in society much 
 above their condition in life. The only passport to their 
 favors is through an introduction, and a formal courtship. 
 They exact from their favorites that attention and respect 
 in public that appears extraordinary to a foreigner. Even 
 officers of distinction have been known in public places to 
 bow and kiss their hands to women of loose conduct and 
 character. 
 
 The Swedes during the day are occupied with their 
 business, and their evenings they generally spend at cards, 
 
 ^AcerU,i,6d. ""IdemU. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 171 
 
 and more rarely in company with the ladies. There is a 
 want of music and enlivening conversation in Swedish 
 society. There are no friendly dinners where a few meet 
 to enjoy each other's society. The Swedish dinner parties 
 are formal and expensive. The company are often 
 strangers to each other. Before sitting down to dinner they 
 visit a side table where they partake of bread and butter,^ 
 cheese and pickled salmon, washed down with brandy. 
 After this, the guests arrange themselves about the dinner 
 table, upon which all the dishes are put at once, and no 
 one is allowed to ask for what he likes best, but must wait 
 his turn, the dishes being handed round in regular succes- 
 sion, ^o wine is drank, and immediately after dinner the 
 guests adjourn to the drawing room, where the company, 
 after thanking the master and mistress of the house with a 
 polite and rather ceremonious bow for their good cheer, 
 are regaled with tea and coffee. 
 
 The Swedish court intrenches itself behind a vast many 
 forms and ceremonies, but this is within what may be 
 called its own precincts. The king and princes, neverthe- 
 less, mix very familiarly with the people. Although 
 the kingly dinners are very formal, yet the private suppers 
 are entirely the reverse. At these no formality is observed 
 even towards the royal family. 
 
 There are few countries in Europe where the elements 
 of knowledge are so universally diffused among all classes 
 of people as in Sweden.^ All the people in towns, vil- 
 lages, and hamlets, without exception, are taught to read. 
 The peasantry are a frank, open, kind-hearted, gay, hospi- 
 table, hardy, and spirited people. There seems to be a 
 happy union of genius, bravery, and natural probity of 
 disposition. They are called by many the gascons of 
 Scandinavia. Although poor, they feel no pressing wants 
 that are not gratified.^ Besides bread and milk, they have 
 in their stores salted or smoked meat, as well as fish, and 
 
 AcerU, i, 67. ^ Idem, 136. ' Idem. 180. 
 
172 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 sometimes even beer and brandy. Both they, and their 
 children are well fed. Their houses and manner of clothing 
 protect them from the severity of the cold. Their firesides 
 are always well provided with wood, and their apartments 
 warm and comfortable. The traits of innocence, simplicity, 
 and contentment which light up the countenances of the 
 inmates of the cabin, are described to be such as moves the 
 sensibility, and interests the feelings of a stranger.^ 
 
 There is a custom in the country of strewing the floors 
 of their apartments with sprigs of juniper, and upon this' 
 is often scattered a considerable quantity of sand, a prac- 
 tice once common in the presence chambers of sovereigns. 
 It conduces to un cleanliness, and the reek of the decaying 
 vegetables is not wholesome.^ 
 
 The peasants, after laying the wooden planks upon their 
 dwellings, often cover them with fresh turf, from which 
 grass springs, giving in summer, the cottages the appear- 
 ance of the surface of a meadow. This preserves the 
 interior from the penetrating moisture of melting snow. 
 
 The Swedish peasants attain generally, to a healthy 
 maturity, and appear characterized by a sturdiness of form 
 and the most athletic stature, many of them seeming to 
 belong to a race of giants, possessing nerves of iron. 
 There is a kind of family likeness very generally prevail- 
 ing. The men have a long and pale face, rather bony, 
 with a high forehead and long chin ; a peculiar expression 
 about the eyes, and stout muscular limbs. 
 
 Marriages in Sweden are governed by the will of the 
 parents, and are founded upon interest. As the parents 
 retain their property until death, young people are in no 
 condition to marry until they are thirty or more years of 
 age, unless they obtain some office or employment. 
 
 In Sweden is still preserved the old custom of suspend- 
 ing garlands upon upright poles, adorned like the May- 
 poles in England. Around these, and through the arch. 
 
 ^Ace7'bi, 1, 181. ^ Clarke's Scandinavia, 134, 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 173 
 
 a new married couple,^ followed b}' the bridemaids and 
 friends of the bridegroom, danced, a great concourse of 
 people joining in the festivities. 
 
 There is probably no country in Scandinavia, that pos- 
 sesses greater interest than JN'orway. This interest is de- 
 rived : 
 
 First. From the features of the country. There, in the 
 eloquent words of modern traveler,^ are " forests, whose 
 vastness and shade, and solitude and silence, banish in an 
 instant from the mind, all associations with song of bird, 
 and bower, and gay sylvan scene ; lakes, whose deep se- 
 clusion put to flight images of mere grace and beauty; 
 valleys, which, from their depth and gloom, we might 
 fancy to be the avenues to abodes of a more mysterious 
 creation ; mountains, whose dim, and rugged, and gigantic 
 forms, seem like the images of a world that we might 
 dream of, but never behold." Can it be a subject of 
 wonder, that scenery like this should nurture human spirits 
 and forms, that were destined to exert no unimportant 
 influence in the aflfairs of men ? 
 
 Second. During the early periods of European history 
 the hardy ^N'orman played a very conspicuous part, establish- 
 ing his dominion in Sicily and southern Italy, wrenching 
 the province of l!^ormandy from France, and ruling over 
 it for centuries, and ultimately establishing his dominion 
 in the British isles. The ancestry of England came from 
 the shores of llTorway. 
 
 Third. While in all Southern and Central Europe the 
 feudal system became established, and was the all fruitful 
 source of domestic, governmental, and social institutions, 
 it never prevailed in Norway. Although the jtTormans 
 were instrumental in planting it in England, yet they 
 brought it from l^Tormandy and not from ISTorway. 
 
 ^Clarke's Scandinavia, 116. ^Comcay's Travels in Norvmy, Sweden, and 
 Denmcwk, 84. 
 
174 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Fourth. Another feature disclosed by the jurisprudence of 
 E'orway, and which gives interest to the development of 
 the social element, is the equal division of the property of 
 the parent, at his death, among all the children.^ This 
 principle has prevailed there for more than a thousand 
 years, and yet if has not had the effect of reducing the 
 landed estates below what is necessary to support a family. 
 "Whenever such a reduction is threatened, a portion of the 
 heirs sell out to others, or the whole is sold, and the pro- 
 ceeds of the sale equally divided. The effect of this 
 equality of right to inherit, is to bring about great equality 
 in the condition of the people. 
 
 IN'orway has three classes of population, when considered 
 in reference to their employment. 
 
 First. The strand-sitters, or sea-faring peasantry, occu- 
 pying the islands, and the coast side of all the fiords, 
 extending sometimes a hundred miles into the interior.^ 
 They have small farms, but their chief subsistence depends 
 on fishing. 
 
 Second. The bonder, or agricultural peasantry, consti- 
 tuting the kernel of the nation, each being the pro- 
 prietor of his own farm, and occupying the country from 
 the shore side to the hill foot, and up every valley or glen, 
 as far as as corn will grow.^ The E"orwegian yeomanry 
 are as fine as any in Europe, and in as happy a condition. 
 It is a body of small landed proprietors, each with his 
 thirty or forty acres. They are strong, athletic men, build- 
 ing their own houses, making their own agricultural 
 implements, and rearing up their own families. 
 
 Third. The Fjelde bonder, who live on the mountains or 
 uplands of I^orway, who also possess land and have houses, 
 although small, and who live by the produce of cattle, and 
 the felling of timber, and the selling of game. They live 
 a hard and laborious life, and have a strong frame of body, 
 and an active character. They are rough and ready, re- 
 
 Laing's Norway, 22. ^ Idem, 255. ^ Idem, 258. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 175 
 
 taitiing the ^dress, manners, character and athletic forms 
 which we attribute to the men of ancient times. Each 
 district and valley has its peculiarity of costume, pronun- 
 ciation,^ and even character. Intermarriages between 
 those of different districts or valleys are rare, and lines of 
 descent can be traced far backward. 
 
 There are no privileged classes in l^orway. I^or are 
 there any created by wealth. And yet there are distinc- 
 tions in society. These grow out of the fact that indivi- 
 duals naturally form social relations with those most like 
 themselves.^ There is here no mixture of persons of incon- 
 gruous stations, habits, and education. What are termed 
 people of condition compose one class, which is made up 
 of the cultivated part of the community, the clergy, public 
 functionaries, half pay officers, and the educated. But the 
 tradesmen and dealers form a highly respectable class, 
 whose dress, appearance and deportment, are described as 
 fully equal to the other. Its members have leisure, enjoy 
 social intercourse,^ and are polished in their manners. In 
 ITorway, good manners go deeper down through society 
 than in other countries. 
 
 The most common national dances of Norway are called 
 the hailing and the polsk ; the first where the performer 
 stands upon his head and kicks his heels about in the air,* 
 the dance of Hippoclides, the Athenian, when contending 
 with other rivals for the daughter of Clisthenes. The 
 other also answers to the description of an Attic dance per- 
 formed to the Emmeleia.^ 
 
 Many of the early customs of England are to be^ found 
 in ]!^orway, reminding the Englishman of the manners of 
 his ancestors. Among these are " old ballads pasted on the 
 wall, story books of witches and giants, huge heavy carved 
 work upon the cupboards and furniture, rows of shining 
 pewter plates and earthenware, brown mugs for beer, 
 
 ^ Laing's Norway, 260. "^ Idem, 129. ^ Idem, 130. '^Clarke's Scandin- 
 avia, II, 198 ' Idem, 323. 
 
176 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 and hogs puddings and sausages dangling from tlie roof.'^^ 
 The i^or^egians also drink toasts with solemnity, mingling 
 with them songs as did the ancestors of the old Teutonic 
 tribes. 
 
 There is a great equality of manners among all ranks, 
 and they are habitually good among the lower ranks. 
 On getting up from table each person goes round the 
 whole company, and shakes hands with every one, with 
 the complimentary phrase " tak for mad," thanks for the 
 meal ; or " well bekomme," may it do you good.^ Even the 
 husband and wife unite in this, and in a large party it 
 presents the appearance of a dance around the table, every 
 one going round to pay the compliment. Even a laborer 
 never passes another at work, or at his meal, without a 
 complimentary expression wishing him luck in the one, or 
 good from the other. 
 
 The laboring class of people have meat at least twice a 
 week in their families. They have four regular meals a day 
 with two drams. Potato brandy is made at every farm 
 house, and is therefore cheap and very universally drank ; ^ 
 and yet intoxication is not common under circumstances and 
 in situations in which sobriety is specially required. Their 
 potations are taken mostly at weddings, baptisms, burials, 
 Christmas, hay and corn harvest homes, and other festivals. 
 
 A check upon improvident marriages is found in the fact 
 that the Lutheran church includes two ceremonies, the 
 betrothal and the final ceremony. The one precedes the 
 other for one, two, and often for several years.^ Both in 
 law, and in society, the betrothed parties have a distinct 
 and acknowledged status. This custom, so well established, 
 interposes a seasonable pause before the expenses of a house 
 and family are entered upon. It is a probationary period, 
 and one allowing character to develop itself; and idle and 
 drunken habits, if such exist, to mature and show them- 
 selves in time to prevent the final and irreparable step. 
 
 ^Laing's Norway, Zm. "" Idem, lOS. ^ Idem, 190. ' Idem,, 100. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 177 
 
 This custom of betrothal had its origin long before the 
 introduction of Christianity, and at a period when the young 
 men of E'orway were so frequently absent for considerable 
 periods of time on piratical expeditions to distant countries. 
 
 The household ways of the ]N"orwegian gentry strongly 
 remind one of the olden times of England. The family 
 room is like the old English manor-house of the days of 
 Queen Elizabeth. Leaves fresh and bright green are 
 sprinkled upon the floor.^ An eight-day clock stands in 
 one corner, a cupboard graces another. Around the room 
 are ranged benches and straight-backed wooden chairs. 
 All the family occupations are going on. In one corner 
 the carding of wool or flax is in progress. Two or three 
 spinning wheels are lifting up their music near the stove. 
 To diversify the scene a young lady takes her guitar to 
 play and sing, or gallopades across the room with a sister. 
 The breakfast is laid out on a tray at one end of the room, 
 which is spacious and lighted from both sides. This is the 
 breakfast of old times in England, consisting of slices of 
 bread and butter, smoked meat, sausages, dried fish, ale 
 and French or N'orwegian brandy, the coffee having been 
 taken an hour or two before. This meal is taken while 
 standing or walking, and the walking and talking, and 
 giving orders to the servants, and waltzing of children, 
 presents altogether a scene of great life and activity. 
 
 The people have not here two sets of manners, the one for 
 home, the other for company.^ The manners are habitually 
 good, even among the lower ranks. Owing to the general 
 diffusion of property, there is an uncommon equality of 
 manners among all ranks ; and the general standard is not 
 low. In the secluded glens of l^orway have been preserved 
 many of the usages and forms of politeness which once 
 prevailed generally in the good society of ancient Europe. 
 The children seem, from the first, to be treated with con- 
 sideration and respect like grown persons. They are never- 
 
 ^ Laing's Norway, 106. ' Idem, 107, 108. 
 VI] 23 
 
178 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 theless wild, romping, joyous creatures, and not diminutive 
 old men or prim old maids. The women of Norway have 
 much to do with the real business of life, and with those 
 concerns which require mental exertion and talent. 
 
 The Christmas, or Yule, as it is there called, is kept in 
 great style for fourteen days, the time being passed in 
 feasting and merriment, and in giving and receiving enter- 
 tainment. In their party assemblages the company walk 
 about the room and converse, few hackneyed subjects being 
 introduced, wind and weather being allowed to shift for 
 themselves, everybody seeming to have something to say, 
 there being a total absence of all pretense in their character, 
 no one appearing to desire to seem otherwise than they 
 naturally are. 
 
 The husbandman in E'orway dwells in the midst of his 
 lands, the houses being remarkably good and clean. The 
 floors of the rooms, at least once a week, are strewed over 
 with the green tops of the fir or juniper.^ Their use is the 
 same as that of yellow sand which is of more modern use. 
 At funerals, the road into the church yard and to the grave 
 is also strewed with the same green sprigs. 
 
 The E'orwegians drink toasts with the solemnities of a 
 public ceremony,^ mingling with them songs, as was the 
 custom among the different branches of the Teutonic 
 tribes. At the conclusion of dinner, there is no separation 
 of the two sexes, as in England, but both men and women 
 retire together. The old custom that prevailed in Greece, 
 and also among the Goths and Getse, of scattering flowers 
 upon the tombs, prevails also in I^orway.^ 
 
 In the m.ountainou8 parts of Norway, where the powers 
 of nature are the most frequently displayed, are a number 
 of superstitious beliefs.^ There is the supernatural being, 
 Mpen, whose power is supposed to be general and control- 
 ling, and exercised sometimes for good, and at others, for 
 
 ^Laing's Norway, Ql. ^ Clarke's Scandinavia, 885. ^Idem,4A5. '^Nor- 
 way, Sweden, and Denmark, 319. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 179 
 
 evil, l^ext in rank are the local intelligences, which are 
 supposed to preside over diiFerent parts of the surface of 
 the country, as the mountain demon, the wood demon, the 
 river demon, whose power also extends over lakes. The 
 demon in the Norwegian mountains is single and invisible. 
 Each river has not its distinct demon, b*ut one is supposed 
 to preside over all. He, also, like the mountain demon, 
 is invisible, excepting only his hand. The wood demon 
 differs from all the others, in being supposed to be visible. 
 On midsummer eve, in order to allow the wood demon to 
 begin the operations of the following year,^ every wood- 
 man strikes his axe into a tree, and there leaves it, that 
 he may, if he pleases, fell one of the trees. He is supposed 
 to have great skill in music, and by means of it, to entice 
 women into the forest. Many also believe in a mine 
 demon, whose habitation is underground. There is also 
 a very general belief in a race called the subterraneous 
 people, who live under the earth, but occasionally appear- 
 ing above it. This race seems allied to the ancient race of 
 magicians, as they have the power of assuming any form, 
 and also of changing the form, either of animate or inani- 
 mate beings, and of exercising power by means of magic. 
 
 The Scandinavian peoples, thus far briefly alluded to, are 
 obviously all cognate races and stems of the old Indo-G-er- 
 man stock. But there are two other peoples dwelling in 
 the northern and eastern parts of this interesting region of 
 country, who, in their physical structure, language, and 
 social habits, fully proclaim their derivation from other 
 and remote stocks. These are the inhabitants of Lapland 
 and Finland, who are regarded as the aborigines of the 
 country, as having once extended considerably south of 
 their present habitations, but as having been, previous to 
 the historic period, driven north and east by the stronger 
 Indo-G-erman. These, although differing from each other 
 
 Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, 333. 
 
180 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in stature, physiognomy and manners, are yet regarded as 
 kindred nations, as being branches of the Jotun race, who 
 originally inhabited all Scandinavia, and stretched thence 
 eastward toward the Uralian chain of mountains.^ 
 
 The Laplanders are regarded as probably the earliest in- 
 habitants of Sweden and E'orway, and the first adventurers 
 from Scythia, being driven from the southern parts of 
 Scandinavia into the more dismal regions lying towards the 
 frozen ocean by subsequent hordes seeking for room and 
 subsistence.^ They are described as short in stature, of a 
 swarthy and dark complexion, the hair black and short, the 
 mouth wide, the cheeks hollow, the chin somewhat long 
 and pointed, the eyes weak and watery, proceeding proba- 
 bly from long exposures to smoke and snows.^ They are a 
 very hardy race, consuming large quantities of train oil and 
 accustomed to feats of activity and the practice of agility 
 from childhood. He goes so rapidly on the snow-shoe or 
 skate that the air whistles in his ears, and his hair becomes 
 erect with the motion, and yet if his cap fall, or anything 
 lies in his way he can pick it up without stopping his 
 course.* Their small stature very much favors their great 
 agility. 
 
 The dress of the men consists of a cap made of kersey 
 cloth, and resembling a sugar loaf worn upon the head, a 
 tunic, or close garment, called a tock, made of sheep's skin, 
 the wool being on and the wooly side inwards, an upper 
 coat made of coarse cloth or skin of the reindeer, a sort of 
 pantaloons made of kersey or leather, and having a close 
 fit ; shoes having but one sole and made of deerskin, with 
 the hair on, all the vacant space being filled with straw and 
 rushes. The dress of the women is very similar. 
 
 The occupations of the sexes in Lapland are somewhat 
 reversed to those of other countries. All the economy of 
 the house in cooking and other matters belongs to the men, 
 
 ^ PHcharcl, Physical History, iii, 274, 298. ^ AcerM's Travels, ii, 146. 
 Idem, 151. * Idem, 154. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 181 
 
 while the manufacture of all articles of dress and of quite 
 a proportion of utensils of wood is the work of the women. ^ 
 They are the best sculptures of Lapland. 
 
 The huts of the maritime Laplanders are constructed 
 with four posts bent together in an oval form, with a small 
 door, and an opening in the roof to let out the smoke.^ 
 The roof is inade of birch bark covered with sods. The in- 
 terior is divided into compartments, covered with boughs of 
 trees, and these spread with the skin of the reindeer. The 
 sheep and cattle have a stall near the entrance of the hut to 
 which they repair by the same door as the rest of the family.^ 
 
 The winter tent of the mountain Laplander diflers but 
 little from the hut. The summer tent resembles the winter 
 except that the covering is of canvass cloth, and it lacks 
 the wall of snow by which the former is surrounded. 
 
 The bed upon which the Laplander reposes is made of 
 the skins of reindeer spread over branches of trees, his 
 outer coat serving as a pillow, and a prepared sheep skin, 
 the woolly side inwards, as a blanket,^ over which is laid 
 a woolen rug. The beds are separated by a log of wood 
 on each side. 
 
 The mountain Laplander lives the life of a l^omad, 
 wandering about,^ and pitching his tent wherever circum- 
 stances favor it. His principal article of food is venison, 
 while that of the maritime is beef and mutton, both also 
 subsisting on bears, wolves and foxes, otters, seals, and all 
 animals except swine.^ They make little use of bread, but 
 preserve carefully the milk of the reindeer, making out of 
 it cheese and butter, and keeping preparations of it frozen. 
 They also make use of train oil, and enjoy as luxuries 
 tobacco and brandy. 
 
 The maritime Laplanders change their habitation twice a 
 year in spring and autumn, leaving their huts standing until 
 their return, but the mountain Laplander is continually 
 
 ' Acerhi's Travels,!!, 170. "" Idem, 171. Udem, 173. * Idem, 179. ^ Idem, 
 190. "Idem, 186. 
 
182 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 wandering from place to place. Their more general move- 
 ment is towards the sea coast in mid-summer, and a return 
 to the mountains on the approach of autumn. 
 
 When a Laplander inclines to marry he communicates his 
 wish to his own family,^ and they all repair in a body to 
 the dwelling of the parents of the girl, taking with them a 
 small present for her and a quantity of brandy to drink. 
 Ariving at the door they enter and the principal spokesman 
 offers a bumper of brandy to the girl's father, who if he 
 accepts it, shows that he approves of the match. The 
 brandy is then handed round, the chief spokesman makes 
 a speech, and the young aspirant has an opportunity of pres- 
 sing his suit. The parents of the girl at length signify 
 their full assent, the suitor offers the maiden his present, 
 and all the preliminaries are arranged. Should the parents 
 of the girl afterwards recede, then they must pay all the 
 expenses, even the brandy drank at the first visit. 
 
 At the nuptials the bride is dressed in her gala habit. 
 These are celebrated in a frugal manner, and presents are 
 made to the bride. The bridegroom generally remains 
 with the parents of his bride during one year after mar- 
 riage, after which, receiving what they are enabled to fur- 
 nish towards an outfit, he takes his departure to try his 
 own fortune in the world. 
 
 The sports and amusements of the Laplanders consist in 
 various exercises, such as shooting at a mark, throwing at 
 a mark with a javelin ; leaping over a stick held in a hori- 
 zontal position ; fastening their hands in each other's belt; 
 striving to raise one another from the ground, and thus to 
 give to each other a fall ; and wrestling. They have no par- 
 ticular festivals, no games of cards, but they do play the 
 game of fox and geese.^ Even music and dancing are un- 
 known among the Laplanders. 
 
 It is a practice among the Laplanders, on the birth of a 
 child, to assign a female reindeer, with all her future off- 
 
 Acerhi's Travels ii, 384. ^/e?em, 386. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 183 
 
 spring, as a provision for the child when it shall grow up, 
 and this provision the child is always entitled to whatever 
 may become of the estate.^ 
 
 The funerals, since the conversion of the Laplanders to 
 Christianity, are conducted with little ceremony. Previ- 
 ously there were some interesting performances. Such 
 were the placing an axe with a tinder box by the side of 
 the corpse, if a man, and a scissors and needle if a woman. 
 Also a quantity of provisions ; also for the space of three 
 years digging holes by the side of the grave and depositing 
 therein tobacco, or something that the deceased was fond- 
 est of when living.^ All this was upon the presumption 
 that they were assisting, and contributing to the enjoy- 
 ment of their friends in the other world. They supposed 
 the felicity of a future state to consist in feasting, smoking 
 tobacco, drinking brandy, and similar amusements. 
 
 The magic art is practiced in Lapland. The magician 
 is called the Noaaid, who has his runic drum, his ganic 
 flies, and his juoige, or song of incantation. The first has 
 in appearance, the head of a common drum, the wooden 
 frame of which is hung around with brass rings, so close 
 together that they strike and rattle upon the least touch of 
 the instrument. Upon the skin stretched over it, certain 
 characters are painted, representing the old Lapland dei- 
 ties,^ and other mystical figures, to the number of forty- 
 five symbols. These drums are of the more value, the 
 greater their antiquity. The drum is consulted by placing 
 a ring, used for this purpose only, upon it, and then by a 
 smart stroke, shaking or driving it over the surface from 
 side to side, which, as it touches certain figures of good or 
 bad omen, admonishes him of success or failure, in what 
 he was about to undertake. If the ring move according to 
 the course of the sun, it augurs success; if contrary, failure. 
 Families in general, possess such a drum, and are guided by it 
 as to the common avocations, as hunting, fishing, or the like. 
 
 AcerU's Travels, ii. 293. ""Idem 392, 293. ^Idem, 307. 
 
184 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The ganic flies are evil spirits, under the control of the 
 E"oaaid, transmitted through a long series of magicians, 
 kept in a box, and invisible except to the IsToaaid. When 
 a person is suspected of having stolen property, the !N"oaaid, 
 pretending first to have discovered his face figured in a 
 dish of brandy, threatens to let loose upon him a swarm of 
 ganic flies who shall continue to torment him until he 
 makes restitution. 
 
 The juoige, or song of incantation, is another instru- 
 ment used by the I^oaaid while in the exercise of his 
 magicial function.^ It is the most hideous kind of yelling 
 that can be conceived. It is supposed to have power to 
 drive away the wolf, and thus to protect the herd, and if 
 the former be within hearing it is not wonderful that he 
 should be frightened away by the noise. 
 
 The Finlander is described as having "shorn features 
 long dark unbending hair, and sallow countenance; eyes ex- 
 tending lengthways, and half closed ; a peaked nose, fre- 
 quently inclining upwards, but always pointed;^ sharp 
 and square chin; elevated cheek bones, and pinched 
 mouth; large, high, and prominent ears; a small head; 
 thin scanty eyebrows, turned upward at their extremities, 
 like those of the Chinese ; high shoulders ; short and small 
 fingers ; knees bent, and projecting forwards." ^ The Finns 
 have quite a resemblance to the Lapps, but are not so 
 diminutive in stature. They are regarded by some as a 
 second colony of Scythians or Tartars who settled in 
 Scandinavia, the first being the Lapps.^ 
 
 The dress of the Finns very much resembles that of the 
 Lapps, and of a considerable part of the inhabitants of 
 Russia. It consists of a jacket or coat made of white 
 sheepskin leather, which is dressed, and worn with the 
 wool inwards, as a lining, towards the body. This is 
 fastened by a sash or girdle about the waist.^ Long trou- 
 
 ^Acerbi's Travels, 311. ^ Clarke's Travels in Scandinama, Sdl-2. ^ Idem, 
 333. * Idem, 345. ' Idem, 337. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 185 
 
 sers or pantaloons reach below the calf of the leg, and are 
 bound about the instep. The feet are covered either with 
 fur boots or socks made of skins, over which are worn 
 sandals made of the bark of trees. A fur cap is worn 
 upon the head, and, what is very common among Finns, 
 Lapps and Russians, the neck and often the bosom is bare 
 in extremely cold weather. 
 
 The inhabitants of the north have many more wants 
 than those of the south. Their necessities for activity are, 
 therefore, greater, and from thence flow many little diver- 
 sities of character which serve to distinguish them from 
 those of the south. During the winter, the Finns employ 
 themselves in making nets, cutting wood and transporting 
 things from one place to another. Hunting and fishing 
 are also among their winter avocations. In their manner 
 of hunting the seal and attacking the bear they show 
 much adroitness and courage. Their fishing is done by 
 hooks, nets, and striking a heavy blow with a club on the 
 ice immediately over the fish, which has the effect of so 
 stunning and stupifying the fish that it immediately rises 
 to the surface and is seized with an instrument made for 
 the purpose.^ 
 
 Some singular social habits prevail in Finland. One is 
 mentioned by the traveler Acerbi as prevailing in the Ulea- 
 borg. It is there a custom, as soon as the entertainment 
 is over,^ for all the ladies, young and old, who wish to 
 testify the pleasure they have enjoyed in your company, to 
 give you a slap with the hand upon your back, when you 
 least expect it ; and it is established as a rule, that the 
 more forcibly the hand is applied, the more emphatic is 
 the lady's declaration in your favor. 
 
 The peasants of Savolaxa in Finland have a singular 
 mode 'of making love.^ The young man commissions 
 some aged dame to acquaint the lady with his devotion 
 to her interests, sending her at the same time some pre- 
 
 'AcerU, I, 2S7,2S8. ^ Idem, 276. Udem,29S. 
 VI] 24 
 
186 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 sents. The dame seeks out a favorable opportunity, expa- 
 tiates largely on the young man's merits and virtues, and 
 slips the presents into her bosom. The girl, if she retains 
 the present, is understood as yielding the point. If she 
 simply gives back the present, that is not regarded as a 
 fatal negative. A repetition of his attempts may yet ac- 
 complish his object. But if by unloosing the cincture of 
 her dress she lets the present fall between her breast and 
 shift to the ground, that is a rejection that banishes all 
 hope and precludes any further negotiation. 
 
 On the wedding day some peasant orator does the honors 
 of the feast, and is expected to make extempore verses 
 suitable to the occasion, or to any incidental circumstances 
 that may arise. On the day following, the guests are also 
 assembled as on the day of the wedding, and the orator 
 makes a speech in verse or prose, and thumps, the bride 
 lustily with the bridegroom's breeches, saying at the same 
 time : " Be fruitful, woman, and don't fail of producing 
 heirs to your husband." 
 
 In one part of Finland young women wear suspended 
 at their girdles, the case or sheath of a knife, as a sign that 
 they are unmarried, and would have no objection to chang- 
 ing their condition. The young man who would like to 
 be instrumental in effecting the change, contrives slily to 
 slip a knife into the sheath, without her perceiving it.^ If 
 she allows it to remain it is a favorable symptom, if not, 
 a refusal. 
 
 In another part the young couple, without quite undress- 
 ing, have a custom of sleeping together for one week 
 before the day appointed for the wedding. This is called 
 the week of the breeches. If mutually satisfactory the 
 marriage takes place. If not, it is thrown up. 
 
 Their baths and manner of bathing affords another 
 curious instance of the social customs of the Finns. Al- 
 most all the Finnish peasants have a bath house, consisting 
 
 Acerbi, i, 296. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 187 
 
 of one small chamber, in the innermost part of which are 
 placed a number of stones, which are first heated to a red 
 heat. Water being thrown upon these stones, is immedi- 
 ately converted into vapor.^ Men and women use the 
 bath promiscuously, without any concealment of dress, 
 and are enveloped in a thick cloud of vapor. The heat 
 is raised to a very high degree, but the bathers, neverthe- 
 less, remain in the bath, for the space of half an hour, and 
 sometimes a whole hour. During all this time, they are 
 occupied in rubbing themselves, and lashing every part of 
 their bodies, with switches, formed of twigs of the birch 
 tree. In the severe winter season, they often go out of the 
 bath in a state of nudity, to roll themselves in the snow, 
 thus passing instantaneously from an atmosphere of seventy 
 degrees of heat, to one of thirty degrees of cold, a transi- 
 tion of a hundred degrees, the same as going out of boiling 
 into freezing water ; and all without the least inconveni- 
 ence. The peasants insist that the baths are a necessity. 
 That by their means their strength is recruited as much 
 as by rest and sleep, and that without them, they could not 
 sustain, during the whole day, their severe labors. 
 
 The Finns are not insensible to the charms of poetry 
 and music. The species of verse they make use of, is the 
 runic, composed of lines of eight trochees, or long and 
 short syllables. They do not rhyme with corresponding 
 endings, but are alliterative, having like beginnings, that 
 is, having two at least or more words which agree in a 
 letter or syllable. These runic verses are sometimes 
 uttered extempore at their public meetings, and sometimes 
 studied for the occasion, but are rarely written or printed.^ 
 A circle is formed of the auditors, in the midst of which, 
 stand the impro visitor and his repetitory coadjutor. Every 
 line given by the former is repeated in the same tune by 
 the latter. While the latter is repeating, the former has 
 time to prepare the succeeding line, and thus they both 
 
 Aderbi, i, 397. ^ Idem, 303. 
 
188 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 proceed, the coadjutor always taking up tlie last words of 
 the impro visitor's line, and then repeating it by himself, 
 until the performance is completed. And this, with the 
 aid of beer and brandy, sometimes continues to a late 
 hour. 
 
 Much of the amusement at fairs, or at their private 
 meetings, consists in these kind of songs, or recitations, 
 sometimes accompanied by the harp. The Finns have 
 also many runic verses,^ which are supposed to contain 
 healing powers, and those are styled sanat, or charms. 
 Thus there are mandan sanat, charms for the bite of a 
 serpent; tulen sanat, charms to cure scalds or burns; and 
 raudan sanat, charms to heal wounds. The national in- 
 strument of Finland is the harpu, which much resembles 
 the harp. 
 
 The Finns have no national dance, but there is one con- 
 sisting of rustic jumping, without the smallest grace, mixed 
 with certain capers, there being no variety in step, nor 
 passion in attitude, nor expression in countenance.^ The 
 only variety consists in a difference in the position of their 
 arms, which are alternately laid one over the other. 
 
 There is also another, termed the bear's dance, in which 
 a peasant resting his hands upon the ground supports him- 
 self on his legs, so as to keep his body in a horizontal posi- 
 tion, similar to the bear when it walks on all fours.^ 
 Remaining constantly in the same attitude, he begins to 
 dance, and by his leaps and jumps, attempts to keep time 
 with the music. Its execution is attended with great labor 
 and fatigue, so that it is difficult for a peasant to go on 
 with it more than three or four minutes without falling 
 into the most violent perspiration. It is an exercise well 
 calculated for strengthening the muscles of the arms, and 
 hence highly useful to the natives whose laborious exertions 
 in ascending the cataracts in summer require very great 
 vigor and muscular power. Address and bodily strength 
 
 ' Acerhi, i, 321. ^ Idem, 329. ' Idein, 391, 392. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 189 
 
 are qualities in the highest repute among the peasantry, and 
 besides this dance, they have other exercises which demand 
 a high degree of activity and firmness in their limbs. 
 
 7. The development of society in the British isles. 
 
 England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, together with 
 the adjacent isles, make up the British empire. These are 
 all united under one political head, and all their different 
 peoples have, therefore, necessary relations with each other. 
 These relations bring them more or less into contact, and 
 thus gradually lead to an assimilation to each other. 
 Lines of influence extend from the capital and reach the 
 Highlander in his clan, the Welshman amid his mountains, 
 and the Irishman as he plies his daily task. The cities of 
 the empire take their fashions and social life from the cap- 
 ital; the villages take theirs from the cities, while the 
 country lags along sometimes a good deal in the rear of 
 the villages. 
 
 The rapid extension of the same manners, customs, and 
 social life does not, however, depend on being under the same 
 head, or subject to the same law. It is governed more by 
 the frequency of intercourse among the people. Hence in 
 cities and villages where people are so much in contact 
 with each other, social life presents less variety, while in 
 the country there often lingers very long the remnants of 
 manners, customs, and superstitions that belonged to a 
 former age. 
 
 In the British isles the greatest barrier that presents 
 itself to uniformity in manners, customs and social life is 
 in the difference of race that prevails among its different 
 peoples. Nowhere else within the same geographical 
 limits are exhibited the same diversity of race, and also 
 the same progress in the formation, out of that diversity, 
 of a homogeneous people. 
 
 The Celtic race appear to have been the first that migrated 
 from their distant homes in the east crossing the breadth of 
 Europe north of the Alps. While a portion of that race 
 
190 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 are supposed by many to liave passed througli Spain and 
 across the Bay of Biscay into Ireland/ where they perma- 
 nently settled, another passed from Brittany over the chan- 
 nel, and were the early occupants of England. Through 
 this, or some other channel, were derived the highlanders 
 of Scotland, who are Celtic in their origin and language. 
 
 Besides these two avenues, the Scandinavians early over- 
 run a great part of the isles and adjacent districts of the 
 main land, bringing with them, however, few or no women ;^ 
 so that in their settlement, and in the formation of domes- 
 tic ties, there was a marked tendency towards a homo- 
 geneous result. This same fact in other cases may have 
 also exerted a strong influence. 
 
 It is on the soil of England that the contest between races 
 has been the most severe and unmitigated. There the 
 Briton or Celt was first disturbed by the Roman invasion, 
 and for almost Rve hundred years England was a Roman 
 province. E'ext after the withdrawal of the Romans came 
 the Saxons and Angles under Hengist and Horsa, and by 
 these the Britons were subdued. Then came the heptarchy, 
 the rule of Saxon law, characterized by a thorough engraft- 
 ing of Saxon manners and Saxon language upon British 
 soil. Many remnants of the old Britons took refuge in 
 the mountainous tracts of Wales, and perhaps the purest 
 sample of an unmixed race anywhere upon the British 
 isles are yet to be found in that country. "Prom the moun- 
 tains of Wales the descendants of the ancient Cimri or Celts 
 have seen their brethren in the west and north melt away 
 in the great stream of mingling populations,^ while they 
 have themselves retained their old Celtic speech, and their 
 features of Celtic nationality." 
 
 Of the invading Angles and Saxons the former took pos- 
 ession of the north and north-west portion of England,* 
 while to the Saxons were assigned the south and south-east. 
 
 ^Prichard, JResearches, iii, 152. "^Letters from Scotland, i, XXIV. 
 » Vaughan, i, 164. " J(fm, 160. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 191 
 
 There was also a belt of land inhabited by the Britons 
 extending along nearly the whole of the western side of the 
 island from Cumberland to Cornwall.^ 
 
 But the Anglo-Saxon conquerors of England were not 
 permitted to enjoy their triumphs in quiet. The Danes and 
 other N^orthraen commenced making their descents and set- 
 tlements on the English coast. During the latter half of 
 the tenth century a powerful Norwegian migration appears 
 to have set in,^ with little noise, but with much steadiness 
 and effect, on Cumberland and the adjacent parts. At the 
 commencement of the eleventh occurred the massacre of 
 the Danes by the Saxons,^ followed by the Danish invasions 
 under Sweyn and Canute, and the subjugation of England 
 under Danish rule. 
 
 The Danish blood in England became the most prevalent 
 in East Anglia,^ and along the eastern coast between the 
 Humber and the Forth. Also in the midland counties, 
 forming the kingdom of Mercia, while in the west, the 
 admixture was more between the Saxons and the British, 
 Thus the blood of the ^tsTorthmen, either Danes or Saxons,^ 
 became the dominant blood along the whole of the lowlands 
 between the Mersey and the Clyde. 
 
 The year 1066 brought the E'orman under William the 
 conqueror, who, at the battle of Hastings, overthrew the 
 Saxon power, took possession of the kingdom ; parcelled 
 out the realm among his IsTorman followers ; established, 
 in all its rigor, the feudal system ; planted all over Eng- 
 land the baronial castle ; depopulated a belt of land in the 
 northern part of England by sweeping away a hundred 
 thousand lives ;^ excluding the English people from all 
 offices, except the lowest, both in church and state ; thus 
 endeavoring everywhere to establish a ruling caste, the 
 ITorman, whose right was that of the sword. These l^or- 
 mans were originally Northmen from Scandinavia, but on 
 
 ' VaugJian, I, IQl. "" Idem, im. Udem,W2. 'Idem,U5. 'Idem,im. 
 Idem, 289, 290, 291. 
 
192 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 their settlement in ]N"ormandy, and intermixture by mar- 
 riage with the Frank population, while they retained their 
 warlike habits,^ their pride, and their love of independence 
 and adventure, they threw aside their Scandinavian 
 customs, ceased to speak their mother tongue, adopted the 
 religion of the Franks, and with it their modes of legisla- 
 tion and of judicature, and their general usage. 
 
 Thus the England of to-day is constructed out of the con- 
 flict and the mingling of races. It is not to be lost sight 
 of that each successive invading host was composed mostly 
 if not entirely of men ; that of these very many would find 
 their wives among those whom they had conquered; and 
 that thus relations would inevitably spring up between the 
 different races, tending to the creation, in the end, of a 
 homogeneous people. It is probably to this circumstance 
 that England owes so much of her greatness and acknow- 
 ledged superiority in all or most of the elements of a great 
 and still advancing civilization. Her gallantry and admir- 
 ation of the heroic and the sublime she derives from the 
 I^orman stock ; her pluck and steady persistence in carry- 
 ing out the great principles that lie at the ground- work of 
 her action, from the Anglo-Saxon ; while from the Danish 
 viking comes the daring spirit that sends her navies over 
 all the waters of the globe, and renders her the undisputed 
 mistress of the seas. 
 
 The Norman had many generous qualities. He prac- 
 ticed a kind of gross hospitality and indiscriminate charity ,2 
 which afforded some compensation for his baronial despot- 
 ism. He seems to have been made up of the most opposite 
 qualities. He was acutely discerning, and yet ignorant 
 and credulous ; honorably brave, though most atrociously 
 cruel; respectful to the fair sex even to adoration, and yet 
 brutually licentious to individuals ; effeminate in his dress 
 and manners, whilst he was capable of undergoing the 
 greatest fatigues. 
 
 ^ Vaughan, i, 361. ^ Great Britain, 11, 284. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 193 
 
 What has already been said relative to European society 
 as it existed among the early European races, the Scandi- 
 navian, the Celtic, and the Germanic; and also in the 
 middle ages and under the feudal system ; and in the age 
 of chivalry, has an application to English social life in its 
 various transitional stages, and may here be entirely passed 
 over. What remains to be said relative to the develop- 
 ment of that life may be included under : 
 
 First. Certain traits of character of the English people. 
 
 Second. Dwellings of the English people and home life. 
 
 Third. Their dress and costume. 
 
 Fourth. Their social habits and customs. 
 
 Fifth. Their sports, pastimes, and amusements. 
 
 First. Traits of character. The English have been cha- 
 racterized as large-natured/ having a mild aspect, and a 
 ringing, cheerful voice. They are large of stature, good 
 livers, understanding and acting the most perfectly up on 
 the true philosophy of living. They rear up the physical 
 man into its largest and most beautiful proportions : 1. 
 By bestowing upon it food of the most nutritious quality, 
 mostly animal, at such times, in such quantities, and of 
 such quality, as is best adapted for that purpose. 2. By 
 subjecting it from the earliest periods to great varieties of 
 exercise in the open air, and mostly of that kind that 
 affords, at the same time, a healthy mental stimulus, 
 such as riding, racing, hunting, and various other species 
 of severe exercise. 3. By giving that species of mental 
 culture, that looks to the solid, rather than to the super- 
 ficial, bestowing greater depth than surface, and securing 
 strength and power, with little regard to mere accomplish- 
 ments. 
 
 The Englishman lives in a world of realities, and is 
 willing to deal with them as such. His great possession, 
 that which is worth all things else, is a sound and invinci- 
 
 ^ Traits, Emerson, 131. 
 
 VI] 25 
 
194 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ble common sense, giving a clear and accurate conception 
 of the necessary conditions of things, and inspiring right 
 thinking and action amid the many diversities that are 
 here presented. There is little of mere fancy or play of 
 the imagination in his character. His poetry prefers 
 rather to limit its revelations to home life, and to weave its 
 garlands of beauty for the baronial hall and for the shepherd 
 and cottager; investing rural pursuits and matters of every 
 day life, with an ideal character, instead of peering into 
 the unknown, and endeavoring to clothe the unsubstantial 
 with the forms of reality. His philosophy is decidedly real- 
 istic and materialistic. It is the philosophy of Bacon and 
 Locke ; that which takes its views entirely from the em- 
 pirical stand point; which questions nature by experiment, 
 and deduces from phenomena their law ; which feels 
 thoroughly at home only in physical science, and which 
 delights in the whirling spindle and the pounding trip 
 hammer. Its highest and only real test, is utilit}^ 
 
 The Englishman is thoroughly utilitarian in all his ten- 
 dencies. His inquiry is whether a thing will pay ; whether 
 it will ultimately succeed, and what it may fairly be pre- 
 sumed to accomplish in the way of becoming productive 
 capital. The science which the English may be said to have 
 originated, studied, tested, practiced upon, and carried 
 almost to its extremest limits in every possible direction, is 
 that of political economy. The science of values, of pro- 
 ductive capital, of the rent of land, wages of labor and 
 profits of stock, has, through several generations, been con- 
 stantly developing through the economic action of the 
 English people. The revelations of the stock exchange 
 present the culminating point in which all England, and 
 in fact all Europe, are constantly feeling the most lively 
 degree of interest. England has so long subsidized the 
 difierent continental powers that she may now be regarded 
 as holding the purse strings of Europe. Wealth is wor- 
 shiped in England. The bank possesses the elements of 
 immense power. Its alternate contraction and expansion. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 195 
 
 like the systole and diastole of a miglitj heart, sends its 
 strong pulsations to the extremes of the civilized world. 
 At its bidding, human muscles and machinery, and spinning 
 jennies, and all the wonderful complications of steam, per- 
 form their respective work with all the order, regularity 
 and system as if they had been drilled to nothing else ever 
 since the creation. If the fashions of the world look to 
 Paris, and everywhere acknowledge the control of the belle 
 monde, of the French capital ; so the prices of commodi- 
 ties all over the globe no less refer to London, and are 
 governed by the developments of the stock exchange in 
 that wonderful city. The colossal power of English wealth 
 acknowledges no superior on the surface of the globe. 
 
 Englishmen ever keep steadily in view the objects which 
 they propose to accomplish. Selecting the means with 
 great care, and with reference to their peculiar efficacy, 
 they persist in their employment until the object is attained, 
 or its impossibility rendered entirely clear. 
 
 Englishmen are generally honest and truth loving. In 
 this respect they constitute no exception to the old Teu- 
 tonic stock. This honesty and truthfulness are more 
 especially manifested in business transactions. In all these, 
 they both practice and require promptness and plain dealing. 
 Should the government omit to pay the interest on the 
 national debt the day it falls due, the shock of a terrible 
 earthquake would not more excite, alarm, or terrify the 
 nation. This trait in the English character is their sheet 
 anchor in all the markets of the globe. All the dealers in 
 English products and English stocks, the world over, trust 
 with unwavering confidence to those elements of truth, 
 capacity, and straightforwardness that enter into the 
 English character. They have no respect for adventurers, 
 and an innate horror of everything that appears like 
 humbug. 
 
 The law of primogeniture has exercised a great influence 
 upon English character. The descent of property and 
 peerage to the eldest born has perpetuated an aristocracy 
 
196 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 who are distinguislied in part by wealth, but more by 
 manners, title and personal privilege. It is this that has 
 scattered palaces, halls, villas and magnificent parks all 
 over England. , The aristocracy receives abundant support, 
 notwithstanding its special privileges, from the large, 
 wealthy, and influential middle class, who might be natur- 
 ally supposed to be hostile by reason of such privileges. 
 And the principal reason is that there are two avenues to 
 the ranks of this same aristocracy. The one lies through 
 great wealth, the other through commanding talents. The 
 wealthy purchase land, identify themselves with that in- 
 terest, and seek through it as early an introduction as 
 possible into the aristocratic body. The other strengthen 
 their minds, improve their powers, and make themselves 
 felt through their exercise, and thus seek admission through 
 this avenue into the same body. Besides, there is a sort of 
 pride which the English possess in cherishing the old 
 nobility. There belong to it many illustrious names, names 
 identified with English triumphs, with the success of 
 English principles, and the establishment of English rights. 
 The great point that marks the difference between the 
 French noblesse and the English nobles is that the 
 former flourish only in the atmosphere of a court; the 
 latter only in that of their own country homes. The 
 former dazzle and captivate only as they reflect the rays 
 that have fallen upon them from royalty. The latter shed 
 a light of their own, which, if it is less strong, is more 
 satisfactory and enduring. The former go to their country 
 residences as to a place of banishment ; visit their tenantry 
 only to extort from them all the money possible ; which 
 instead of expending in the country they carry to the 
 capital, and there lavish in splendor and display. Be- 
 tween them and their country tenantry there can be nothing 
 but coldness, estrangement, and even hostility. The latter 
 living at home in the midst of their tenantry preserve with 
 them friendly relations, and thus secure a popularity where 
 it must be the most agreeable* 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 197 
 
 The English noble, instead of giving the land his own 
 names, takes his from the land, wearing the token of the 
 glebe that gave him birth, and representing the country 
 that nourished and reared him up.^ Thus associations grow 
 up between the names of places and those of families, and 
 these in time acquire a high degree of permanence. 
 
 By living in this manner, the English nobles lead quiet, 
 unostentatious lives, having the lead in " matters of state and 
 of expense ; in questions of taste, in social usages, in con- 
 vivial and domestic hospitalities." ^ If they have not the 
 most powerful brains they have the best manners. There 
 is with them a sense of superiority, " the absence of all the 
 ambitious efibrt which disgusts in the aspiring classes, a 
 pure tone of thought and feeling, and the power to com- 
 mand, among their other luxuries, the presence of the most 
 accomplished men in their festive meetings." ^ 
 
 The English hate all craft and subtlety. They are ever 
 ready to wage warfare, but it is always an open one. Poi- 
 sonings and assassinations they seldom resort to. Their 
 philosophy is to bring force manfully in conflict with force, 
 and to fight on until one proves the stronger and the other 
 gives up. 
 
 With these traits lying at the foundation of English 
 character, it remains to be seen in what manner they have 
 been developed in English social life. 
 
 Second. Dwellings of the English people and home life. 
 
 The dwellings of the ancient Britons were of the rudest 
 kind, little better than thickets, dens and caves. ^ Their 
 towns were made up of wicker huts, which they placed at 
 short distances from each other in a tract of woody land,* 
 surrounding them by a trench to secure them from their 
 enemies. These were more especially for summer. Their 
 winter lodgings, and also places of retreat in time of war, 
 were dug deep in the ground and covered with earth, and 
 thus rendered secure and warm. 
 
 ' Emerson, 181. ^ Idem, 186. ' ldem> 188. ^ Manners and Gustoms^ 16. 
 
198 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Their first advauce upon this was to construct wooden 
 houses, having high tapering roofs with apertures at the 
 top for the admission of light, and emission of smoke. 
 They bore a strong resemblance to sugar loaves, the holes 
 at the top serving for windows as well as chimneys. 
 
 During the reign of the Anglo-Saxon, the dwellings were 
 hovels built of wood or earth,^ and thatched with straw or 
 the branches of trees. They were full of crevices. Their 
 largest and best buildings were constructed of wood, and 
 covered with thatch. The houses of the most wealthy had 
 glass windows, but the huts of the poor had only a small 
 hole with a bit of horn for a window. The floor consisted 
 of bare ground strewed with rushes. These the wealthy 
 changed frequently, but the poor allowed them to remain 
 for a long time. Stoves and chimneys were unknown, the 
 fire being made upon the floor, the smoke escaping either 
 through the doorway, or a hole in the roof. The method 
 resorted to by the Saxon to test the courage of his young 
 son was to put him on the slanting side of the house, and 
 there leave him. If he looked afraid and began crying, 
 they predicted a coward, but if he clung boldly to the roof, 
 and appeared fearless,^ they foretold the brave man and 
 the warrior. 
 
 An advance was made by the I^orman. In the twelfth 
 century great improvements were made in architecture, 
 although the country people still lived very generally in 
 hovels. Glass windows came into general use in 1180. 
 In John's reign came the invention of chimneys. Previous 
 to that the smoke had no other avenue of escape than either 
 through the doorway, or through a hole in the roof. The 
 l!^ormans, however, introduced very few articles of furni- 
 ture in the eleventh century. 
 
 The houses in London were mostly thatched with straw 
 till the reign of Henry III, when it was ordered that all 
 houses in the city should be covered with tiles or slates.^ 
 
 Manners and Customs. 42. ^ Idem, 31. ^ Idem, 121. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 199 
 
 Architecture, with some other arts of design made a pro- 
 gress in England in the fourteenth century. A greater 
 profusion of ornament was used. The architects kept 
 together, lived in movable huts, and called themselves 
 freemasons.^ Many of the domestic buildings were 
 still erected for defense. They were moated, contained 
 but few rooms, the hall being much larger than the 
 rest. Fires except for cooking were little used in pri- 
 vate houses. Chimneys were by no means common. 
 Painted ceilings and walls in the houses of the wealthy 
 prevailed before the time of Henry III. Also painted 
 glass windows. 
 
 During the next, or the fifteenth century, Gothic archi- 
 tecture improved, and the wealthy abandoned the moated 
 castle and commenced inhabiting large rambling mansions, 
 constructed of timber, and covered with plaster.^ These 
 were generally built round one or two quadrangles, often 
 possessing a great variety of exterior detail. Within, the 
 great hall with its open groined roof, the kitchen, and the 
 buttery were the most observable. At the upper end of 
 the hall was the raised floor on which stood the table, 
 around which the gentlemen were seated on wooden 
 benches, and the ladies on low stools.^ A music gallery 
 was at the lower end, the fireplace in the centre, and 
 instead of chimneys a hole to permit the smoke to escape. 
 The floors were strewn with rushes, overhead were perches 
 for hawks. The walls were hung with arras. The beds 
 were usually straw pallets, with a log of wood for a bol- 
 ster, and a horse cloth for a coverlet. In farm houses the 
 same plan of building round a quadrangle was adhered to. 
 In towns the houses were chiefly of wood. The houses of 
 .the great barons were very extensive, and surrounded 
 inner courts. Some of them could accommodate one 
 thousand men. But these large dwellings were more 
 stately than comfortable. 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs, 120, 121. "^ Idem, 163. ^ Idem, 164. 
 
200 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 During the Tudor dynasty, the dwellings of the wealthy 
 were large, comfortless places, surrounded by walled courts, 
 which had more the appearance of prisons, than of gentle- 
 men's habitations. In the time of Elizabeth, the last of 
 the Tudors,^ the style of the houses adopted by the wealthy, 
 was something between a castle and a mansion. To each 
 residence belonged a moat, a gateway, and one or two 
 strong turrets. Enter, and the furniture is quaint, but 
 often rich and picturesque. The walls are hung with 
 tapestry; the chairs, high-backed, carved, stuffed, and 
 covered with velvet or satin. ^ The beds are apparently 
 comfortable, often elegant. Looking glasses are just being 
 introduced, in the place of steel mirrors. There is the 
 silver spoon, but forks are not yet generally used. China 
 ware is unknown, although crockery is in use. But car- 
 pets were unknown, even in the age of the last of the 
 Tudors. Instead of them, you will find the floors strewn 
 with rushes, and the filth, which was allowed to accumulate, 
 was often the cause of infectious diseases.^ 
 
 The farm houses were built of timber, and those of 
 laborers, of mud, or wattle and mud ; ^ many having no 
 chimneys. Straw beds and pillows of chaff were common. 
 Trenchers and wooden spoons were in use. But this was 
 near the commencement of the reign of the Tudors, in the 
 latter part of the fifteenth century. In the last of the 
 sixteenth, the houses were much improved.^ Wood or 
 wattle gave way to stone or brick ; wooden trenchers to 
 pewter plates ; . and straw and chaff' mattresses to feather 
 beds. 
 
 In the beginning of the seventeenth century the interior 
 of houses began to be greatly embellished.^ Rich velvets 
 and silks, embroidered with cloth of gold and of silver, 
 and colored satins, abounded, of the most gorgeous hues. 
 Carpets took the place of rushes on the floors. There were 
 
 ^Manners and Customs, 194, 195. ^ Idem, 195. ^ Idem, 196. ^Idem, 216. 
 Idem, 218. ' Idem, 252, 253. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 201 
 
 carved cabinets of oak ebony and ivory. Superb ornaments 
 of ivory and china came from the east; and altogether the 
 houses of the wealthy presented a scene of stately elegance 
 and luxury that has continued from that period down to 
 the present time. 
 
 Third. The dresses and costume of the British people. 
 
 The early Britons v^ore a mantle which enwrapped the 
 whole body, and was fastened in front with a clasp, and 
 occasionally a thorn. ^ These were smooth inside, and 
 covered with long hair on the other. The southern Britons 
 wore a tunic ornamented with flowers, and loose garments 
 called braecse, covering their legs and'1:highs like the trou- 
 sers worn by sailors of the present day. Their shoes were 
 of coarse skin with the hair outwards. They had a cas- 
 sock or cloak of chequer-work, united by laces on the 
 inside, giving the appearance of flowers. Sometimes a 
 short woolen jacket was worn without the tunic. Some- 
 times it was girded by a belt, or ornamented with gold 
 and silver. 
 
 But in the northern parts of the country, away from the 
 Roman power and influence, even so late as A. D. 207, 
 the Britons appear to have been naked, their necks and 
 waists rudely decorated with large rings and chains of iron, 
 and their bodies marked with various figures, and stains 
 of woad. The desire of exhibiting the figures and stains 
 may have operated to prevent a resort to any kind of 
 covering. 
 
 The British females were ornamented with golden chains, 
 rings and bracelets, and their hair hung loose upon their 
 shoulders,^ being turned back and falling down behind 
 without tying or braiding. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxon costume consisted of a linen shirt, a 
 linen or woolen tunic, according to the season, descend- 
 ing to the knees, and having long, close sleeves, over which 
 was worn a short cloak, like the Roman pallium, fastened 
 
 ' Great Britain, ii, 234. "" Idem, 236-7. 
 VI] 26 
 
202 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 sometimes on the breast, and sometimes on one or both 
 shoulders with brooches or fibulse.^ The linen or woolen 
 tunic was fastened with a belt round the waist. The smock- 
 frock of the present day is its lineal descendant and almost 
 precisely like it. What the Saxons termed brech and hose 
 consisted of drawers reaching half way down the thigh, 
 and stockings meeting them. Over these latter they wore 
 bands of cloth, linen or leather, commencing at the ankle 
 and terminating a little below the knee, either in close 
 rolls, or crossing each other sandal-wise. The shoes were 
 usually painted black with an opening down the instep, 
 and fastened by a thong. These garments composed the 
 dress of all classes, the wealthy being distinguished from 
 the poor, not by difference in form but by richness and 
 ornament. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxon females wore long loose garments 
 reaching to the ground, which was called by different names 
 as tunic, gunna or gown, cyrtel or kirtle, and mantle.^ 
 The head-dress was a veil, or long piece of linen or silk 
 wrapped around the head and neck. The Anglo Saxons 
 wore their hair long, parted on the forehead, and falling 
 naturally down the shoulders. The beard was worn long. 
 The Danish costume in many respects resembled that of the 
 Anglo-Saxon. 
 
 The dress of the Anglo-Norman nobles and gentry con- 
 sisted of a long and close gown reaching to the feet,^ the 
 lower edge often embroidered with gold. Over this was 
 thrown a long cloak, buckled over the breast, a hood hang- 
 ing behind it. The close gown was put on over the head 
 like a shirt, and fastened round the waist by a girdle. 
 The nether stock and stockings were of line cloth. The 
 noble women of the Anglo-]N'ormans, wore loose gowns 
 girdled round the waist, and trailing on the ground ; but 
 married females had an additional robe over the gown, 
 hanging down before, with a purse or pouch hanging to 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs, 34. ^ Idem, 37. ^ Great Britain, ii, 275. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 203 
 
 tbe girdle. The Auglo-!N"orman wore his hair long, but 
 his face shaved. 
 
 In the reign of Richard II the dress of the men was 
 long,^ very luxurious, and often with open sides, and pre- 
 posterously long-toed shoes. A dandy of the fourteenth 
 century is thus described.^ " He wore long pointed shoes, 
 fastened to his knees by gold or silver chains ; hose of one 
 color on one leg, and of another color on the other. Short 
 breeches, not reaching to the middle of the thigh ; a coat, 
 one-half white, and the other half black or blue; a long 
 beard, a silk band buttoned under his chin, embroidered 
 with grotesque figures of animals, dancing men, etc., and 
 sometimes ornamented with gold, silver, and precious 
 stones." The women of the thirteenth century wore their 
 gowns so gay and so long, that a poet compares them to 
 peacocks and magpies. Another complaint of this period 
 is tight lacing,^ the waists of women being pinched in to 
 make them look very slim. 
 
 The fifteenth century saw English dress carried to a great 
 degree of absurdity.^ The jackets were worn so short that 
 a statute was passed in 1463 ordering them to be worn a 
 certain length behind. The dandies wore sometimes a 
 boot on one leg, and a stocking on the other. The head- 
 coverings were fantastical. The men had tight breeches 
 or hose ; wore petticoats over their lower clothing. Their 
 doublets were laced in the front like a woman's stays 
 across a stomacher; and their gowns were open in the 
 front to the girdle, and again from the girdle to the^ground. 
 The women appear in gowns, sometimes having enormous 
 trains, corsets were worn over the other dress. The head- 
 dresses were worn immoderately high and broad.^ Two 
 of them were peculiar, and were called, the one the horned, 
 and the other the steeple head dress. The first consisted 
 of two elevations, like a mitre worn edgeways, or like a 
 
 ^ Great Britain, ii, 117. ^Manners and Customs, 18. ^ Mem, 119. 
 Great Britain, ii, 300. ' Fosbroke, ii, 840. 
 
204 HISTORY OF CIYILIZATIOX. - 
 
 heart in cards, with the bottom cut ofF.^ These horns rose 
 up from the cap or bonnet, enclosing it from behind, and 
 rearing their lofty points into the air, like those of some 
 wild bison. These were covered with some richly patterned 
 silk or velvet. The other, or the steeple, presented a 
 round tower with battlemented tops, and huge transparent 
 shades, enclosing the face, and running to a point half a 
 yard before and behind them. Others again had conical 
 frames half a yard high set upon their heads, covered with 
 lace or velvet. These are even now worn by the peasant 
 women in some parts of the province of Normandy. 
 
 At the close of the fifteenth century, the English cos- 
 tumes were so fantastical and absurd, that it was difficult 
 to distinguish one sex from the other. The ordinary 
 costume of the nobility of the age of Henry YIII, 1509, 
 consisted of a full skirted jacket, or doublet,^ with large 
 sleeves to the wrist, over which was worn a short, but 
 equally full coat or cloak, with loose hanging sleeves, and 
 a broad rolling collar of fur, a brimmed cap, adorned often 
 with jewels, and an ostrich feather, stockings, and square- 
 toed shoes. Ruffs or ruffles were worn on the wrists. 
 
 About the middle of the reign of Elizabeth, 1580, a 
 change occurred in the female costume.^ The body was 
 imprisoned in whalebone to the hips, while the shoulders 
 sported an enormous ruff rising to nearly the height of 
 the head behind, and which encircled the wearer like the 
 nimbus or glory of a saint. From the bosom descended 
 an interminable stomacher, on each side of which, jutted 
 out horizontally, the enormous vardingale, the prototype 
 and precursor of the more modern hoop. The cap, or coif, 
 was occasionally exchanged for a round bonnet like that 
 of the men. So enormously long had the ruffs become, 
 that persons were stationed at the gates of the different 
 streets, to cut down every ruff which exceeded three feet 
 in width.* This fashion continued, until a lady, Mrs. Tur- 
 
 Manners and Customs, 61. ^ Mem, 188. ^Idem, 190. ^Idem, 191. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 205 
 
 ner was hung up by her ruff for committing a murder, and 
 that put an end to it. In the time of the Tudors, in 
 the place of pockets, a loose pouch was sometimes sus- 
 pended from the girdle. In this we find the rudiments of 
 the pocket, which had not yet found its way into costume. 
 
 The large ruff was not confined to the costume of 
 women.^ The paintings of the age of Elizabeth show the 
 men's costume to consist of the large trunk hose, the long 
 waisted doublet, the short cloak or mantle with its stand- 
 ing collar, the ruff, the hat band and feather, the shoes 
 and roses. 
 
 In the reign of Charles I, 1625 to 1648, the costume of 
 the cavalier or royalist was picturesque. It consisted of a 
 doublet of silk, satin, or velvet,^ with large loose sleeves, 
 slashed up the front, the collar covered by a falling band 
 of the richest point lace. A short cloak was worn carelessly 
 on one shoulder. The long breeches, fringed or pointed, 
 met the lops of the wide boots, which were also ruffled 
 with lace or lawn. A broad-leafed Flemish beaver hat, 
 with a rich hat-band and plume of feathers, was set on one 
 side of the head, and a Spanish rapier hung from a most 
 magnificent baldric, or sword-belt, worn sash-wise over 
 the right shoulder. The doublet was occasionally ex- 
 changed for the buff coat, which was richly laced. The 
 hair was worn long, and the beard very peaked, with small 
 upturned mustaches. 
 
 The large ruff having expired with Mrs. Turner, so great 
 a change occurred in the costume of the ladies tha?t one of 
 that day would scarcely be distinguished from one of this, 
 saving the article of hoops. The dress fell naturally without 
 hoops, and the broad collar fell gracefully on the shoulders. 
 On the head was the broad, high-crowned hat. 
 
 With the return of the merry monarch, Charles II, 
 fashion again regained her throne.^ "Taste and elegance 
 were abandoned for extravagance and folly; and the male 
 
 Manners and Customs, ii, 194. ^ Idem, 239. ^ Idem, 242. 
 
206 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 costume, wMch, in the time of Charles I, had reached 
 the highest point of picturesque splendor, degenerated 
 and declined from this moment, and expired in the square 
 coat, cocked hat, full-bottomed wig, and jack boots of 
 the following century." The peruke, or periwig dates from 
 the reign of Charles II. 
 
 The beauties of the reign of Charles II are thus de- 
 scribed: "their glossy ringlets, escaping from a simple 
 bandeau of pearls, or adorned by a single rose, fall in 
 graceful profusion upon snowy necks, unveiled by even 
 the transparent lawn of the band or the partlet; and the 
 fair round arm, bare to the elbow, reclines upon the vo- 
 luptuous satin petticoat ; ^ while the gown, of the same rich 
 material, piles up its voluminous train in the back ground." 
 
 The reign of queen Anne, 1702, banished the costume of 
 chivalry except the sword, and that, even at the present 
 day, is necessary to complete the full dress of the court of 
 St. James.^ 
 
 " Square cut coats and long flapped waistcoats with pock- 
 ets in them, the latter meeting the stockings, still drawn 
 up over the knee so high as to entirely conceal the 
 breeches, but gartered below it ; large hanging cuffs and 
 lace ruffles ; the skirts of the coats stiffened out with wire, 
 or buckram, from beneath which peeped the hilt of the 
 sword, deprived of the broad and splendid belt, in which 
 it swung in the preceding reigns ; blue or scarlet silk 
 stocking; lace neckcloths; square-toed short quartered 
 shoes, with high red heels and small buckles ; very long 
 and formally curled perukes, black riding wigs, bag wigs, 
 and night-cap wigs ; small three-cornered hats, laced with 
 gold or silver galloon, and sometimes trimmed with 
 feathers, composed the habit of the noblemen during the 
 reigns of Queen Anne and George I." 
 
 During the reigns of the first, second and third Georges, 
 hats underwent great changes; the old three-cornered 
 
 Manners and Customs, 244. ^ Idem, 246. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 207 
 
 cocked hat having found a refuge on the heads of the state- 
 coachmen ; while the wig, in the last half of the eighteenth 
 century, gradually diminished in size, the practice of friz- 
 zing, plastering, and powdering the hair, coming in to 
 supersede its use. The square cut coat and long-flapped 
 waistcoat of the reign of Queen Anne, and the first two 
 Georges, underwent an alteration about the middle of the 
 reign of their successor. The skirts were unstifiened and 
 the waists shortened, and the cut of the present court suit 
 introduced. 
 
 It has been well remarked that " fashion has been such 
 a varying goddess, that neither history, tradition nor paint- 
 ing, has been able to preserve all her mimic forms.^ In 
 1735, a lady's dress was short, and very much like a great 
 drum ; and in 1745, it was even wider. Indeed the fashions 
 of women's dresses are like a weathercock, always chang- 
 ing and never fixed." 
 
 Fourth. Their social habits and customs.^ The ancient 
 Britons were hospitable. The stranger was ever made 
 welcome, and if he washed himself in the water furnished, 
 and delivered his arms to the master of the house, it was 
 equivalent to a consent to spend at least one night with 
 the family. Then they prepared a meal, introduced the 
 harp and made merry. They were great feasters, there 
 being no public assembly, no marriage, no birthday, no 
 treaty of peace or alliance, not even a funeral, without a 
 jolly time of feasting.^ Many of their feasts lasted for a 
 week, sometimes longer. They sat in a circle upon the 
 ground, their seats being grass, hay, or the skins of animals. 
 They took up the meat with their hands tearing it ofiT with 
 their teeth.^ They took their little children in the winter 
 time to some stream or lake, and plunged them into it, to 
 harden their bodies. 
 
 They sometimes buried their dead, but the South Britons 
 oftener burned them.^ In the former case they buried with 
 
 Manners and Cicstoms, 249. ^ Idem, IS. ^ Idem, 19. * Idem, 20. ^ Idem, 23. 
 
208 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 them their swords, bows, and arrows, and generally their 
 dogs. In the latter they sometimes consigned to the same 
 fire those friends, servants, animals and things in which 
 the deceased was known mostly to have delighted. The 
 most important and solemn thing was the funeral song, 
 which recited the good quahties of the deceased, and was 
 sung by a number of bards to the music of their harps. 
 On this song they thought depended the rest and happi- 
 ness of the soul in the world to come. 
 
 The period of courtship was brief. The authority of the 
 father was absolute.^ The husband had a right of chastis- 
 ing his wife in three cases. 1. Infidelity to his bed. 2. 
 Embezzling his goods. 3. Abusing his beard. Among 
 them the law of succession was that at a man's death his 
 property was equally divided among his sons. The highest 
 ranks of the Anglo-Saxons lived in a kind of rude pomp 
 surrounded by officers, friends and servants. Both Saxons 
 and Danes were even fonder of feasting and merry-making 
 than the ancient Britons.^ They lived chiefly upon pork 
 and fish, drinking large quantities of ale and mead. The 
 Thanes spent a large portion of their time in giving enter- 
 tainments to their friends and followers. The wealthy sat 
 at a table raised above that of the inferior guests. Horns 
 were much used at table, glass vessels being little known 
 prior to the ITorman conquest. The harpers andgleemen, 
 or merry makers, were important characters at Anglo-Saxon 
 festivals. The latter were jugglers and pantomimists, as 
 well as minstrels ; were accustomed to associate in com- 
 panies, and amuse by displays of feats of strength and 
 agility, dancing and slight of hand tricks.^ 
 
 The minstrel proper came with the conquest, and en- 
 joyed many special privileges.^ His person being held 
 sacred, he could travel in perfect safety from place to place 
 in time of war as well as of peace, and wherever he went 
 was received with the warmest welcome and hospitality. 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs, 2Q. ^ Idem, 45. ^Idem,4Q. * Idem, 47. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 209 
 
 Every great baron kept a jester as a part of his household 
 establishment. 
 
 The marriage ceremonies of the Anglo-Saxons and 
 Danes were preceded by a day spent in feasting and 
 merriment.^ The next morning the bride was escorted 
 with great ceremony to the house of her future husband. 
 There the nuptiaUbenediction was given, and both bride 
 and bridegroom crowned by the priest with crowns made 
 of flowers. The wedding dresses were only used on that 
 occasion. On retiring at night they drank of the marriage 
 cup with all who were present. Early on the following 
 morning, before the two arose, the company assembled in 
 the bedroom to hear the husband declare what was called 
 the morning gift, or what settlement and indulgences he 
 would allow his wife. That being declared, his relations 
 undertook to see the promise performed. Then feasting 
 and rejoicing continued for several days. In case of 
 adultery by the wife, the husband cut off her hair, stripped 
 her almost naked, turned her out of his house, and whipped 
 her from one end of the village to the other. After this, 
 her character was irrecoverably lost. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxons were superstitious and sought to fore- 
 tell future events. This they endeavored to accomplish by 
 bits of wood, distinguished by different marks,^ or by the 
 singing or flight of birds, or the neighing of horses, par- 
 ticularly those of a white color. 
 
 With the E'ormans came the age of chivalry. They 
 were originally from the same parent stem as the Danes 
 and Saxons, but important modifications had occurred from 
 their long residence in ISTormandy. *' They became dis- 
 tinguished throughout Europe for their military skill, their 
 love of glory, their encouragement of literature, the splen- 
 dor of their habiliments,^ the cleanliness of their persons, 
 and the courtesy of their demeanor." To the Anglo-iN'or- 
 mans is owing the introduction of many elegancies and 
 
 ' Manners and Customs, 50. ^ Idem, 51, 53. ^ Idem, 72. 
 VI] 27 
 
210 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 refinements in the habits of common life and customs of 
 the table. The ITormans were more temperate in eating 
 and drinking than the Saxons.^ They had only two meals 
 a day, dinner and supper; dining at nine o'clock a. m. and 
 supping at 5 p. m., according to the following lines : 
 
 To rise at five, to dine at nine, 
 To Slip at five, to bed at nine. 
 Make a man live to ninety-nine. 
 
 The ITormans, however, grew less temperate after they had 
 for some time lived in the country. 
 
 The custom of tolling the curfew bell at eight o'clock 
 every evening, which is still kept up in some parts of the 
 country, dates back to the time of William the Conqueror, 
 by whose command,^ the bell was tolled at that hour every 
 night, that the people might know when to put out their 
 fires and lights. 
 
 The ages of feudalism and chivalry, through which the 
 English people passed upon the accession of the I^orman, 
 in their relations to society, have already been briefly con- 
 sidered. Towards the conclusion of the fourteenth century, 
 the wealthy barons began to discontinue dining in their 
 great halls with their dependents, which had been their 
 former custom; ^ and in the place of it their dinners were 
 served up in private parlors with a few familiar friends. 
 In the forepart of the same century, eleven o'clock a. m. 
 was the most fashionable dinner hour, and six p. m., the 
 supper hour. In the reign of Eichard II, 1377, first occurs 
 the practice of the rich having breakfast. In the reign of 
 Edward III, 1326,^ intemperance in eating and drinking 
 had rendered the English such monstrous gormandizers 
 that a law was passed forbidding them to have more than 
 two courses at dinner. The drinks of the common people 
 at this period were ale and cider, but the wealthy con- 
 sumed large quantities of foreign wines. Down to the 
 
 Manners and Customs, 79. ^ Idem, 90. ^ Idem, 113, 114. * Idem, 114. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 211 
 
 commencement of the thirteenth century there were no 
 regular shops,^ but traders went about like hawkers to sell 
 their goods. 
 
 The advancement of the English people during the four- 
 teenth century, has been thus summed up : " In arms 
 they had won eternal and unrivaled fame ; in poetry, 
 literature, and art, they had made brilliant advances. 
 Their churches were piles of glorious architecture. In 
 poetry they had a Chaucer ; in architecture, a Wykeham ; 
 in philosophy, a Bacon and a Grostete. Wycliffe had 
 made the Bible common property, infusing new life into 
 religion, which penetrated the cottage and the dwelling of 
 the industrious citizen. In the constitution, the great 
 charter had been confirmed, as well as many excellent 
 statutes, restraining the royal and baronial power, and 
 extending that of the people. Gunpowder and cannon 
 had been employed in warfare, making strong castles use- 
 less. Manufactures had been introduced by the noble 
 Queen Philippa of Hainault. As a whole, it must be pro- 
 nounced a distinguished and progressive era,^ which did 
 its duty to the common country, and to posterity ; but fell 
 short in the two important domains of morals and of hu- 
 manity." 
 
 From the commencement to past the middle of the 
 fifteenth century, the larger barons still kept up their feu- 
 dal style of living, having their minstrels, jesters, buffoons 
 and tumblers; their four meals a day, breakfasting at 
 seven, dining at ten, or rather, from ten to one, p. m., being 
 in the meantime entertained by songs and harps, and by 
 jests, tricks, and dances ; supping at four in the afternoon, 
 and having a meal called the livery, just before going to 
 bed.^ The common people were later in their hours, and 
 had but three meals a day, viz : at eight, twelve, and six. 
 
 Five times in the year glutton-masses were celebrated in 
 the churches by the secular clergy. Early in the morning 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs, 132. ^ Idem, 149. ' Idem, 152, 153. 
 
212 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the people brought into the church roasted aud boiled 
 meats and strong drinks, and as soon as the mass was 
 ended/ they all fell to, and finished the day in riot and in- 
 temperance, the feast itself finally degenerating into an 
 orgy. 
 
 At this period, all ranks were extremely hospitable, es- 
 pecially the wealthy. JSTeville, earl of Warwick, the last 
 of the barons, was accustomed to have six oxen eaten at 
 a breakfast, and no fewer than thirty thousand people are 
 said to have lived daily at his expense in his difierent 
 manors and castles. 
 
 Post-horses and stages, or regular resting places, date 
 their origin from the time of Eichard III, 1483. 
 
 About those times a very singular charge of sorcery was 
 made against the Duchess of Gloucester. The allegation 
 was that she had procured from an accomplice a wax fig- 
 ure, which was so moulded by art, that when placed 
 before the fire, as it melted away, the flesh of the king 
 would melt away also,^ his marrow dry up, and his health 
 fade. 
 
 In the sixteenth century there was great formality and 
 severity of manners in families. The aged were haughty 
 and reserved, exacting from the young the most abject 
 deference. N"o child presumed to sit in the presence of its 
 parents, or to speak without permission. The son stood 
 uncovered and silent in the father's presence,^ the daugh- 
 ters like statues by the doorway, not being permitted to sit 
 without leave. A formality somewhat similar even now 
 prevails in the palaces of kings. 
 
 The English of this period are described as gross eaters, 
 and great drunkards; as extremely fond of good cheer, and 
 frolic-making, merry-making and music ; as rude in man- 
 ners, and disorderly in all their habits. In the Elizabethan 
 age, the breakfast hour was at eight o'clock,^ the dinner hour 
 at eleven, and the supper hour at six. At entertainments a 
 
 ^Manners and Customs, 155. ^ Idem, 178. ^ Idem, 183. '^ Idem, 184. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 213 
 
 salt cellar was placed in the middle of the table, and the 
 rank of the guests was discriminated by their situation 
 above or below it. 
 
 When Henry VIII proclaimed himself the head of the 
 English church, and gave the people permission to read 
 the Bible in their own language, the custom was adopted 
 of chaining a Bible to the reading desk of every paHsh 
 church in the country, to which access was had at all 
 hours of the day. The consequence was that the churches 
 were daily crowded, and thousands learned to read for the 
 sole purpose of reading the scriptures.^ 
 
 From the restoration of Charles II, in 1660, to the reign 
 of George II, a period of seventy years, the national mo- 
 rality was at a very low ebb. Men were knavish, intri- 
 guing, unscrupulous. " They hid their hatred in a smile, 
 and their infamy in a bow." Even women of rank were 
 destitute of delicacy and probity.^ They mingled with 
 men in taverns, amid tobacco smoke, obscene songs, and 
 conversation of the most ribald character. They were 
 desperate gamblers, and both sexes seemed to unite their 
 efforts to make debauchery and villainy fashionable. The 
 practice of duelling, the remnant of the age of chivalry, was 
 rendered fashionable at this period, and prevailed more 
 than it ever has at any other before or since.^ 
 
 During the reign of James I, family pride greatly pre- 
 vailed ; the wealthy distinguished themselves from the 
 poor by a conceited demeanor,^ an expensive style of liv- 
 ing, an exhibition of pomp and show, and the attendance 
 of a numerous retinue. 
 
 Probably no greater social contrast was ever presented 
 among the same people than that presented by the puri- 
 tans and cavaliers during the English revolution and reign 
 of the commonwealth. The cavahers were a jolly set of 
 merrymakers, who lived for no other purpose than enjoy- 
 ment. Deriding everything solemn and religious, sneering 
 
 ' Manners and Custotns, 211. "" Idem, 221. ^ Idem, 22%. ^ Idem, 224:. 
 
214 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 at priests and churches, flippant in oaths and blasphemies, 
 destitute of principle, attached to drink and debauchery, 
 they spent their lives in feeding upon the pleasures and 
 vanities of the hour, without ever appearing to realize any 
 of the responsibilities of existence. On the other hand 
 v^as the puritan in his straight, plain, sober-colored dress, 
 studiously avoiding all ornament, as if it were a pest ; his 
 manners and social maxims grave, harsh, and even repul- 
 sive ; using a sedate and chastened style of speech ; full of 
 reverence for sound and Christian principles; believing 
 and acting upon the principle that life was a gift granted 
 upon severe conditions; that its mission was to perform 
 duties and not to enjoy pleasures; that everything here 
 was significant of realities ; everything had a solemn mean- 
 ing; and that if enjoyment was to be found anywhere it 
 was in the performance of duty, and in always so feeling, 
 thinking and acting as to secure the approbation of a con- 
 science formed upon Bible doctrines. They revered God 
 and his word, were obedient to law, and devoted to truth 
 and justice. They were not pure stoics in their belief, and 
 yet they had much of the lofty sentiment that constituted 
 the stoic philosophy. With such marked characters and 
 contrasts, the success of the puritans, or independents, 
 under Cromwell, could be easily predicted without possess- 
 ing the spirit of prophecy. They marched to battle, as 
 they marched to church, under a solemn sense of duty. 
 The cavaliers, although inured to war, and naturally brave, 
 melted away before a self-constituted soldiery, who sent up 
 the morning and evening prayer, and marched on to the 
 conflict singing psalms and hymns. Having once attained 
 power England was merry England no longer. They 
 carried everywhere the utmost severity, l^ymphs and 
 graces, the work of Ionian chisels,^ were handed over to 
 puritan stonemasons to be made decent. All betting was 
 prohibited. Adultery was punished with death. Public 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs^ 22^. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 215 
 
 amusements, from the masks exhibited at the mansions of 
 the great, down to the wrestling matches and grinning 
 matches on village greens, were vigorously attacked. 
 May-poles were hewn down, theatrical diversions proscribed, 
 play-houses dismantled, bear-baiting totally forbidden, and 
 rope-dancing, puppet shows, bowls, and horse-racing, were 
 all regarded with no friendly eye. The long parliament 
 even laid its ruthless hand on Christmas, a day that had 
 ever been devoted to national jollity, to hilarity, feasting 
 and enjoyment, and enacted that it should be strictly 
 observed as a fast, and that all men should pass it in hum- 
 bly bemoaning the great national sin, which they and their 
 fathers had so often committed on that day, by romping 
 under the mistletoe, eating boar's head, and drinking ale 
 flavored with roasted apples.^ 
 
 Although there was a reaction against these severe 
 reforms introduced by the puritans, yet there can remain 
 no doubt of the purifying influence they ultimately exerted 
 upon English character. "From the accession of Queen 
 Anne to the present day, the morality of the English has 
 greatly improved ; and though it is now far from being what 
 it ought to be, considering the vast number of men who 
 profess to preach Christiantiy,^ yet for religion, morality, 
 courage, honesty, sobriety, and manliness, old England 
 ranks first in the great family of nations." 
 
 The acts of the long parliament furnish by no means 
 the only instance in which legislation has been invoked to 
 mend the social state. In 1770 an act was passed providing 
 "that all women, of whatever age,^ rank, profession, or de- 
 gree, whether virgins, maids, or widows, that shall, from 
 and after such act, impose upon, seduce, and betray into 
 matrimony, any of his majesty's male subjects, by the scents, 
 paints, cosmetic washes, artificial teeth, false hair, Spanish 
 wool, iron stays, hoops, high-heeled shoes, etc., shall incur 
 the penalty of the law now in force against witchcraft and 
 
 ^ Manners and Customs, 230. "" Idem, 231, 232. ' Idem, 261, 262. 
 
216 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 like misdemeanors, and that the marriage, upon convic- 
 tion, shall stand null and void." It is to be hoped that 
 by means of such severe legislation, his majesty's male 
 subjects were enabled to escape the many snares that seem 
 to have been so artfully laid to entrap them. 
 
 Fifth. The sports, pastimes and amusements of the 
 English people. 
 
 A brief reference to some of the most important of these 
 will aid essentially in giving a clearer insight into the 
 English character. When a people unbend themselves, 
 and relax from the severer cares and business of life, the 
 direction which their sports, pastimes, and amusements take 
 will indicate very clearly the true bent and tendencies of 
 their disposition and character. To justify the appellation 
 of merry England it is necessary that the English people 
 should have developed themselves in various sports, pas- 
 times and amusements. 
 
 A kind of sport that from the earliest times has occupied 
 the attention of the English is that of hunting. The 
 ancient Britons were hunters. Those, especially of the 
 northern parts of England, acquired much of their subsist- 
 ence by hunting. The Saxons, in common with other 
 German nations, were strongly attached to the sports of 
 the field. Under their rule the privileges of hunting were 
 restricted, being gradually withdrawn from the people and 
 appropriated by the chiefs and leaders. As early as the 
 ninth century, hunting constituted an essential part of the 
 education of a young nobleman.^ 
 
 The Danes, equally with the Saxons, were possessed of 
 the hunting propensity ; but it was the IS'orman who re- 
 duced this sport to a system as severely oppressive upon 
 the common people on the one side, as it contributed to 
 the enjoyment of the king and his barons upon the other. 
 Under his rule, thousands of acres were withdrawn from 
 the purposes of husbandry and enclosed in parks for the 
 
 ' Strutfs Sports, 3. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 217 
 
 rearing of deer and other game, for the chase aud slaughter. 
 For the protection of game a system of game laws came to 
 be established, most oppressive in their character, requir- 
 ing the life of a man as an equivalent for the killing of a 
 hare. So oppressive were these laws that their modific a- 
 tion found an appropriate place in the forest charter which 
 was wrenched from King John. 
 
 So popular has this sport been among the higher classes, 
 that even ladies have frequently embarked in it, sometimes 
 accompanying the gentlemen,^ at other times forming 
 hunting parties by themselves. In the fourteenth century 
 they rode horseback in precisely the same manner as men.^ 
 
 The animals hunted were in three classes, the first includ- 
 ing the hare, the hart, the wolf and wild boar; the second, 
 the buck, the doe, the fox, the martin and the roe ; and the 
 third, the gary or badger, the wild cat and the otter. 
 
 Great care was taken in rearing dogs for the chase. For 
 this purpose they made use for the grayhound, and the bull- 
 dog, and also the mastiff and the spaniel, the latter espe- 
 cially for hawking. 
 
 The sportsmen have had various methods of hunting, some 
 requiring the hunter to be on horseback and some on foot. 
 Sometimes this exercise took place in the open country ; 
 sometimes in woods and thickets, sometimes in parks, 
 chases and forests, where the game was usually enclosed 
 with a hegde or fence-work of netting, supported by posts 
 driven into the ground for that purpose.^ It was always 
 attended with the highest degree of excitement, resulting 
 in the almost total self-abandonment of those who entered 
 fully into it. The winding of the hunter's horn, the rapid 
 flight of the deer, the eager pursuit of the barking pack of 
 dogs, the hunters on their fleet horses, all tend to render 
 the whole scene one of deep and absorbing interest. 
 
 The game is pursued by its scent^ and hence it becomes 
 important for the hunter to determine when that is the 
 
 ^ Strutt, 1 1, 13. = Idem, 14. ' Idem, 20. 
 VI] 28 
 
218 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 best. And with reference to that the following rule is 
 laid down : " When the tobacco smoke seems to hang 
 lazily in the air, scarcely sinking or rising, or moving from 
 the place where it is emitted from the pipe, producing at 
 the same time a strong smell, which lasts some time 
 in the same place,^ after the smoke is apparently dis- 
 persed, we may, on that day, be sure that the scent will 
 lay well." 
 
 It is remarked by an old writer of the twelfth century, 
 John of Salisbury, that hunting and hawking are esteemed 
 the most honorable employments by the nobility, who 
 think it the height of worldly felicity, to spend the whole 
 of their time in these diversions, preparing for them with 
 more solicitude, expense, and parade, than they do for 
 war; and pursuing the wild beasts with greater fury than 
 they do the enemies of their country.^ " By constantly fol- 
 lowiug this way of life, they lose much of their humanity, 
 and become as savage, nearly, as the very brutes th ey hunt." 
 This strongly expresses the moral effect of a sport or pas- 
 time which no one can doubt, has for more than a thousand 
 years, either for good or evil, run its thread of adamant 
 through the English character. While it has tended to 
 give it hardihood, and power of persisting, it has invested 
 it with that pluck and indomitable energy, that has 
 carried British arms and arts in triumph over the world. 
 
 Another sport nearly allied to that of hunting, was 
 hawking ; the art of training and flying of hawks for the 
 purpose of catching other birds, and which was frequently 
 termed falconry. This was a country pastime, and prac- 
 ticed by both sexes, as well on foot as on horseback. Its 
 origin dates as far back as the middle of the fourth cen- 
 tury. It was highly esteemed by the Anglo-Saxon nobility, 
 and under the E'orman rule it became oppressive by its 
 limitation to the larger barons. The hawk was so trained 
 that, when loosed, it would, when on the wing, seize upon 
 
 ' Hone's Every Day Book, i, 1378. ' Strutt, 6. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 219 
 
 its prey, and return with it to the falconer. This sport 
 commenced waning from the discovery and use of fire- 
 arms, as they were found much more effectual than the 
 hawk in bringing down birds, even when on the wing. It 
 expired with the seventeenth 'century. 
 
 Another sport of a character allied to hunting is horse- 
 racing. This seems to have been known and practiced 
 by the Anglo-Saxons, but was probably confined to persons 
 of rank and opulence, and practiced only by way of amuse- 
 ment. In the middle ages the nobility indulged themselves 
 in running horses in certain seasons of the year, and more 
 especially during the Easter and Whitsuntide holidays. 
 
 The Chester races, and probably most of the others, 
 owed their institution originally merely to amusement; 
 but in the course of time, they furnished occasions for 
 betting, and large sums were usually dependent upon the 
 event of each race. Thus, although originally a liberal 
 pastime, and practiced for pleasure rather than profit, yet 
 it ultimately degenerated into a system of gambling, so 
 that Burton, near the close of the seventeenth century,^ 
 says that " horse races are desports of great men, and good 
 in themselves, though many gentlemen by such means 
 gallop quite out of their fortunes." 
 
 Another art carried to a high degree of perfection in 
 England, and which was originally conspicuous as a mode 
 of warfare and subsequently as a sport, was archery. 
 From being a fearful instrument of destruction in war, it 
 became in peace an object of amusement. 
 
 Both the Anglo-Saxons and Danes were acquainted with 
 the use of the bow.^ So also the I^ormans used the bow 
 as a military weapon, and both improved and diffused the 
 practice of archery. When it became an amusement the 
 ladies were accustomed to practice it. 
 
 In the thirteenth century every man with a small annual 
 income was obliged to have in his possession a bow and 
 
 ' 8trittt, 4:5. ''Idem, 50. 
 
220 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 arrows.^ There were two kinds of bows, the cross bow and 
 the long bow. The latter were those the most commonly 
 possessed by the English. By an ordinance of Edward IV, 
 every man was to have a bow of his own height.^ The 
 arrows made use of at the battle of Agin court were a full 
 yard in length. The bow string might be made of hemp, 
 or flax, or silk. The arrow had three essential parts, viz : 
 the stete or wand, the feathers, and the head. The inven- 
 tion and introduction of fire-arms entirely superseded the 
 use of the bow in war, or in hunting, and thus limited 
 archery to be merely practiced as an amusement. It is now 
 much less practiced for that purpose than it was formerly. 
 
 Another manly exercise, and which requires a good deal 
 of art to practice it effectively, is that of slinging. The 
 Saxons also seem to have been skillful in the management 
 of the sling.^ It was used by them as far back as the 
 eighth century. These were also instruments of war. 
 Sometimes the sling was attached to a staff or truncheon 
 three or four feet in length, wielded with both hands, and 
 charged with a stone of considerable size. These slings 
 were used in besieging cities, and on ships in engage- 
 ments at sea. Men armed with slings formed a part of 
 the Anglo-!N"orman soldiery, but their use was almost en- 
 tirely superseded by the bow at the commencement of the 
 fifteenth century. It required much practice to handle this 
 instrument with much certainty,^ for if the stone, in the act 
 of throwing, was ejected from the sling, either sooner or 
 later than it should be, the desired effect was sure to fail. 
 
 Throwing the spear, or javelin, was also a military exer- 
 cise, but was sometimes practiced as a trial of strength, 
 when it was attempted to throw it beyond a certain boun- 
 dary, or to exceed a competitor in distance; and of skill, 
 when the spear was cast at a quintain, or any other 
 determined mark. It was one of the sports of the Lon- 
 doners in the reign of Henry II. 
 
 8trutt,5i. ''ldem,6d. Udem,12. * Idem, 74. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 221 
 
 The pitching of quoits, or coits, is a mere pastime or 
 amusement, and the exercise of it depends less upon supe- 
 rior strength than superior skill. This game has continued 
 its popularity to the present time. 
 
 Foot-racing, in the middle ages, was considered an es- 
 sential part of a young man's education.^ Two centuries 
 back, running was deemed an exercise by no means dero- 
 gatory to the rank of nobility, but in the present day, foot 
 races are little encouraged by persons of fortune, and seldom 
 happen but for the purpose of betting. 
 
 "Wrestling is at the present time confined to the lower 
 class of the people. It formerly was practiced among the 
 higher classes.^ The inhabitants of Cornwall and Devon 
 have been celebrated for their expertness in this sport. 
 The Cornish hug has been a proverbial expression. The 
 citizens of London were formerly expert in the practice of 
 this art, and were accustomed annually to indulge in it. 
 Its decline among the higher classes was followed by a 
 slower one among the lower, until it became, as we now 
 find it, confined pretty much to wakes and fairs, where it is 
 still occasionally witnessed. The art, as practiced two cen- 
 turies ago, is thus described by Carew : " The beholders 
 then cast or form themselves into a ring, in the empty space 
 whereof the two champions* step forth, stripped into their 
 doublets and hosen, and un trussed, that they may so the 
 better command the use of their lymmes ; and first shaking 
 hands, in token of friendship, they fall presently to the 
 effect of anger ; for each striveth how to take hoFd of the 
 other with his best advantage, and to bear his adverse party 
 downe ; wherein, whosoever overthroweth his mate, in such 
 sort, as that either his backe or the one shoulder, and con- 
 trary heele do touch the ground is accounted to give the 
 fall."^ 
 
 Another exercise of great antiquity is that of swimming, 
 which is mentioned by an old writer as one of the requi- 
 
 mtt,l^. ^ Idem, 80. ' Sfrutt, SS, 84:. 
 
222 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 sites for a complete gentleman. So also those of sliding, 
 skating, rowing, and sailing, have received each their 
 proper share of attention. 
 
 Another sport, or pastime, which has presented a great 
 variety in its modes of exhibition is that of ball-playing. 
 The introduction of this into England was as early at least 
 as the fourteenth century.^ In the sixteenth, tennis courts 
 were common in England, and this species of ball-playing 
 was much in favor by the higher classes. 
 
 Hurling was originally a species of the hand ball, and in 
 playing it the contending parties endeavored to force the ball 
 one from the other,^ and they who could retain it long 
 enough to cast it beyond an appointed boundary were the 
 conquerors. 
 
 Foot-ball, where the ball was driven about by the feet 
 instead of the hands, was formerly much practiced by the 
 common people. Two goals were here placed at th& dis- 
 tance of eighty or an hundred yards from each other, and 
 the object of each party is to drive the ball through the 
 goal of their antagonists, by the achievement of which the 
 game is won. When the game gets at its height, the 
 players become much excited, and there is such a kicking 
 of shins that some of them are overthrown at the hazard 
 of their limbs.^ 
 
 The goff, or bandy-ball, required the assistance of a club 
 or bat in the playing of it. This is played by two players 
 having each his bat and ball. The game consists in driving 
 the ball into certain holes made in the ground.^ He who 
 achieves this in the shortest time, and by the fewest num- 
 ber of strokes secures the victory. The distance between 
 the holes was sometimes two or three miles. There were 
 also interveniog holes. The ball must be struck into the 
 holes, and not beyond them. This was a fashionable game 
 among the nobility at the commencement of the seventeenth 
 century. 
 
 Btrutt, 91, 92. ^ Idem, 98. ' Idem, 100. * Idem, 102. 
 
EUROPE— ITS SOCIETY. 223 
 
 Another old game very popular in the reign of Charles 
 II (and from which the walk in St. James's Park, called 
 the Mall, received its name) was the pall-mall. In the 
 playing of this a round hox hall is struck with a mallet, 
 through a high arch of iron, which he that can do at the 
 fewest hlowB, or at the number agreed upon, wins. There 
 are two of these arches, one at either end of the alley. 
 
 The game, however, which is more than all others at the 
 present day celebrated as an English game, is that of 
 cricket, which is of comparatively recent origin, no trace 
 of it by that name occurring earlier than the commence- 
 ment of the last century. This has lately become very 
 popular among the nobility. It is played with bat and ball, 
 and consists of single and double wicket. The wicket has 
 experienced some change. It now consists of three stumps 
 and two bails; the middle stump being added to prevent 
 the ball from passing through the wicket without beating 
 it down. Single wickets require ^ve players on each side, 
 and double, eleven. At the former, the striker with his 
 bat is the protector of the wicket, the opponent party 
 standing in the field to catch or stop the ball,^ while the 
 bowler, who, is one of them, takes his place by the side of 
 a small batten, or stump, set up for that purpose twenty-two 
 yards from the wicket, and thence delivers the ball with 
 the intention of beating it down. Two stumps are now 
 usually set up with a bail across, which the batsman, when 
 he runs, must beat off before he returns home^ If the 
 bowler is successful the batsman retires from the play ; but 
 if the ball is struck by the bat and driven into the field, 
 the striker runs to the stump at the bowler's station, touch- 
 ing it with his bat and then returning to his wicket. If 
 performed before the ball is thrown back, it is called a 
 run. If not, and the wicket is beaten down with it, he 
 is out of the play. The same if he strikes the ball into 
 the air and it is caught before reaching the ground. The 
 
 Strutt, 106. 
 
224 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 V. 
 
 batsmen are accounted in as long as thej remain at their 
 wickets, and their party is called the in -party/ and those 
 in the field with the bowlers, the out-party; both parties hav- 
 ing two innings, and the side that obtains the most runs in 
 the double contest claims the victory. 
 
 There are also some other kinds of ball, as trap-ball, ante- 
 rior to cricket, northern spell, and tip cat, a rustic pastime, 
 deriving its name from a piece of wood called a cat, shaped 
 much like a double cone. This is laid on the ground, the 
 player striking it smartly with his cudgel causing it to rise 
 with a rotary motion, high enough for him to beat it away 
 as it falls. A large ring is made upon the ground,^ in the 
 middle of which the striker takes his station, and his 
 business is to beat the cat over the ring. Failing to do 
 that he is out, and another takes his place. 
 
 The sports of jousts, or justs, and the tournament, were 
 all-absorbing during the middle ages, but these have 
 already been briefly alluded to in considering European 
 society during that period. There were also many sports 
 and pastimes, which served as origins for the drama, and 
 from which the theatre received in time its full develop- 
 ment, but these fall more appropriately in another connec- 
 tion. 
 
 Another sport which has been, and in regard to one 
 portion of it, is yet very extensively indulged in, is that of 
 dancing and tumbling. Both these, together with balanc- 
 ing, originated in the early performances of the gleemen 
 and minstrels, having the same source as the dramatic 
 exhibitions. 
 
 In the middle ages, dancing was reckoned among the 
 genteel accomplishments of necessary acquisition by both 
 sexes. It was constantly practiced by the nobility, on 
 all occasions of festivity, and countenanced by the ex- 
 ample of the court. The example of the nobility was 
 very soon followed by the middling classes, and these were 
 
 'Strutt, 107. "" Idem, 110. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 225 
 
 imitated by their inferiors, who were accustomed to spend 
 much of their leisure time in dancing, more especially 
 upon holidays. An old practice^ as far back as the 
 twelfth century, prevailed among the damsels of Lon- 
 don, to spend their holiday evenings in dancing before 
 their master's doors. So also the country lasses were 
 accustomed to perform this exercise upon the greens, 
 with all their rustic simplicity. They danced in measures, 
 rounds and jigs. There were many varieties of dancing ; 
 such as dancing to a bear, which consisted in approaching 
 and receding from the bear with great agility. The sword 
 dance, in which young men, having first stripped them- 
 selves, dance among the points of swords and spears, with 
 most wonderful agility, and with the most elegant and 
 graceful motions. The morris dance, which was most fre- 
 quently joined^ to processions and pageants, especially 
 those connected with the celebration of May games. The 
 dancers here had garments adorned with bells of unequal 
 sizes, and differently denominated, and which rang out as 
 they danced. To these should be added the egg dance 
 and the ladder dance. Most of the ancient dances were 
 of the jocular kind, and sometimes executed by one per- 
 son. And then there was tumbling, wire 'dancing, rope 
 dancing, ballet dancing, leaping, vaulting and balancing, 
 besides many other such kind of performances. 
 
 Another extensive class of sports and pastimes consists 
 of the different varieties of bowling. This sport, whether 
 practiced upon open greens or in bowling alleys, was pro- 
 bably an invention of the middle ages. It consisted at 
 first in simply placing two small cones upright at a distance 
 from each other, and the business of the players was to 
 bowl at them alternately, the successful candidate being 
 the one who coald lay his bowl the nearest to the mark. 
 Out of this ultimately grew the game of nine-pins and skit- 
 tles, both using the same number of pins, but differing in 
 the mode of playing. In the former, the player standing 
 at the proper distance casts the bowl at the pins, and the 
 
 VI] 29 
 
226 HISTOKY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 successful candidate is he who can beat down the greatest 
 number in the fewest throws. In the latter, there is a 
 double exertion, one bj bowling, and the other by tipping;^ 
 the first being performed at a given distance, and the se- 
 cond standing close to the frame upon which the pins are 
 placed, and throwing the bowl through in the midst of 
 them. 
 
 Another sport, that was once extremely popular, was that 
 of bull-baiting, or worrying bulls with dogs, which was 
 formerly practiced in almost everj town or village through- 
 out the kingdom. Another nearly allied to it was the 
 bull-running, at which, on proclamation made, the bull 
 was turned out, '^ and the hivie-skivy,^ tag and rag, men, 
 women, and children of all sorts and sizes, with all the 
 dogs in the town, promiscuously running after him with 
 their bull clubs, spattering dirt in each other's faces, that 
 one would think them to be so many furies started out of 
 hell for the punishment of Cerberus." 
 
 Another sport quite kindred to this was that of cock- 
 fighting. As early as the reign of Edward III, this famous 
 sport became a fashionable amusement.^ It soon began 
 to be productive of pernicious consequences, and in 1366 
 it was prohibited by a public proclamation. Henry YIII 
 adorned his palace at Whitehall with a cockpit, and James 
 I resorted to the diversion twice a week. The most cruel 
 and disgraceful of this species of game was that called 
 "Welch main, which consisted of a certain number of pairs 
 of cocks,^ say sixteen, which are allowed to fight with each 
 other until half of them are killed. Then the sixteen 
 conquerors are pitted a second time in like manner until half 
 of them are slain. Then the same course is followed with 
 the eight survivors, and then with the four and then lastly 
 with the two. So that in this way no less than thirty-one 
 cocks are sure to be inhumanly murdered for the sport and 
 pleasure of the spectators. From the evidence afibrded by 
 
 StruU,212. ^ Idem, 278. ^ Idem, 281. ^ Idem, 282. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 227 
 
 old illuminated manuscripts, it seems pretty clear that the 
 arming of the heels with sharp points of steel in the way of 
 artificial spurs is a refinement in cruelty which was reserved 
 for times comparatively modern. It is a practice unknown 
 in former ages. 
 
 A pastime, which, at the present day, has superseded 
 many others, admitting of much variety, and being very 
 universally and deservedly popular, is that of billiards. 
 The invention of this game is attributed to the French. 
 It is too well known to require any description. 
 
 The game of dice is one of ancient origin, but in the 
 many frauds to which it has given rise, has led to many 
 evil consequences. Its invention is referred to Palamedes, 
 son of Il^auplius, king of Euboea.^ The ancient Germans 
 were excessively attached to this game, and the Saxons, 
 Danes, and E'ormans, were much addicted to it. The 
 perfect equality of chances in this game when it is fairly 
 played, has led professed gamblers to resort to trick and 
 chicanery, to secure an advantage. Hence we hear of the 
 loaded dice, and dice of the high cut. 
 
 Another game, whose invention has been referred to the 
 same origin, but which requires a strong exertion of intel- 
 lect, and great powers of calculation to play it successfully, 
 is that of chess. There have been no less than forty-four 
 diiFerent names given to so many games of chess. 
 
 A game of more modern invention, and somewhat re- 
 sembling chess, is that of draughts. Being less intricate it 
 is more easily learnt,^ for the pieces are of equal vahie until 
 they become kings, and can only move one way, that is 
 diagonally ; but, like chess, it depends entirely upon skill, 
 and one false move frequently occasions the loss of the game. 
 
 There are several other games, as merelles, or nine men's 
 morris, fox and geese, backgammon, domino, which have 
 enjoyed great popularity in England and in this country; 
 but the game of cards has undoubtedly been more employed 
 
 8trm,S0Q. Udem, 316, 
 
228 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 as an instrument for gambling than any other game. The 
 origin of this celebrated game is not clearly settled. In 
 the last quarter of the fourteenth century it appears in 
 Spain, France, and it is claimed also in Germany and Eng- 
 land. The early specimens of cards differ little in form 
 from those now in use, but the figures and devices that 
 constitute the different suits of the cards,^ depending as 
 they must upon the taste and invention of the card makers, 
 did not bear the least resemblance to those in present use. 
 
 There are many different games played with cards,^ but 
 that of whist, formerly written whisk, is the one held in 
 the highest estimation. At the commencement of the last 
 century, this is said to have been a favorite pastime with 
 clergymen, who played the game with swabbers, these 
 being certain cards by which the holder was entitled to 
 part of the stake, in the same manner that the claim is 
 made for the aces at quadrille. 
 
 There are other pastimes that have formerly prevailed 
 in England, that derived their popularity mostly from the 
 lower orders of the people. Among these, is the pastime, 
 termed the lord of misrule, supposed by some to have been 
 peculiar to England. The reign of this merry king once 
 extended through the greater part of the holidays, but his 
 government has been extinct for many years. His merry 
 gambols were not confined to the court, or even the houses 
 of the nobility, but he was elected in various parishes.^ 
 Upon his appointment or election, he formed his own 
 cabinet, consisting of from twenty to an hundred kindred 
 spirits, and then with various decorations, jingling bells, 
 hobby-horses, dragons and other antiques, with pipers and 
 drummers, they would strike up the devils' dance, march- 
 ing towards the church full of people, dancing and singing 
 with every possible exhibition of the wildest uproar and 
 confusion.* They had their bowers, arbors and banquet- 
 ing houses set up, spending the sabbath day, and often 
 
 Strutt, 329. ^ Idem, 335. ' Idem, 341. * Idem, 342. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 229 
 
 night in feasting, banqueting and dancing. This was dis- 
 tinct from the church-ales, wakes and May-games. This 
 and other pastimes, involving whimsical transpositions of 
 dignity, were probably derived from the ancient saturnalia 
 or feasts of Saturn, when the masters waited upon their 
 servants who were honored with mock titles, and permitted 
 to assume the state and deportment of their lords.^ 
 
 The festival of fools, in which acts outraging all sense of 
 morality and religion were perpetrated, seems never to 
 have been practiced to the full extent in England, but we 
 find there an old festival obviously derived from it, called 
 the boy bishop.^ This consisted in the appareling of a 
 boy in the episcopal vestments, with a mitre and crozier, 
 to bear the title and state of a bishop. He, together with 
 his fellows, dressed like priests^ took possession of the 
 church, and with mock dignity, performed all the ceremo- 
 nies and ofiices which might have been celebrated by a 
 bishop and his prebendaries. This silly mummery was 
 discontinued after the death of Mary. 
 
 Another impious pastime was the wakes, which con- 
 sisted in the assembling together of a motley group of 
 people on the evening preceding a saint's day, and coming 
 to the church with candles burning,^ originally it would 
 seem to wake, and tend to their devotions. But after- 
 wards, as an old writer says : " The people fell to lecherie, 
 and songs, *and dances, with harping and piping, and also 
 to gluttony and sin, and so turned the holiness to cursed- 
 ness; wherefore the holy fathers ordained the people to 
 leave that waking and to fast the evening." The pedlars 
 and hawkers soon attended to sell their wares, so that by 
 degrees the religious wake became converted into a secular 
 fair.^ At length, the nocturnal meetings were suppressed, 
 and the regular fairs established. 
 
 These fairs were not alone for the purpose of traffic. A 
 great variety of sports and pastimes were there indulged 
 
 8trutt,Si4:. Udem,UG. ^ Idem.^m. *7^em, 366. 
 
230 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Id. Among these were the jingling match, which con- 
 sisted in forming a circle enclosed with ropes, within which 
 nine 9r ten persons were placed, all, with one . exception, 
 blindfolded. That exception was the most active, who was 
 the jingler, the game being for the blindfolded to catch 
 the jingler, who, by his jingling, was constantly apprising 
 them of his whereabouts. 
 
 Sack running was where men tied up in sacks, every 
 part of them being enclosed except the head, were to make 
 the best of their way to some given distance, where the 
 first arriving obtains the prize. 
 
 Smock races, performed by the young country wenches, 
 so called because the prize is a holland smock or shift. 
 
 The wheelbarrow race, performed in an open field, is 
 where the candidates are all blindfolded, and every one 
 having his wheelbarrow, is to drive with it from the start- 
 ing place to a mark set up for that purpose, at some con- 
 siderable distance, he who first reaches the mark being the 
 conqueror. The windings and wanderings of these knights 
 of the wheelbarrow were productive of much merriment. 
 
 The grinning match is where two or more persons, each 
 with his head thrust through a horse's collar, endeavor to 
 exceed every other in excessive grinning. 
 
 Then there is a yawning match for a Cheshire cheese, 
 which began about midnight, when the whole company 
 were disposed to be drowsy; and he that yawned the 
 widest, and the most naturally, so as to call forth the 
 greatest number of yawns from the spectators, bore off the 
 cheese. 
 
 Another result of the wake were the church ales which 
 occurred on some of the holidays. The avowed purpose of 
 this pastime was, through their means, to collect such sums 
 of money as were necessary for the support and repairs of 
 the church. To accomplish this the most readily the church- 
 wardens and chief parish officers brewed a certain portion 
 of strong ale which they sold to the people ; most of the 
 better sort contributing something beyond what they thus 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETT. . 231 
 
 paid. An old writer of the period of Queen Elizabeth 
 says : " Then, when thisnippitatum, this huffe-cappe, as they 
 call it, this nectar of life, is set abroach, well is he that can 
 get the soonest to it, and spends the most at it, for he is 
 counted the godliest man of all the rest, and most in God's 
 favor, because it is spent upon his church forsooth." 
 
 The farmers of the country annually hold two feasts ; 
 the one in spring, the other at the end of summer, or 
 beginning of autumn. The first is the sheep shearing, the 
 second, the harvest home. These, in former times, were 
 celebrated with feasting, and a variety of rustic pastimes. 
 At present, there is little except dinner or supper at the 
 conclusion. 
 
 Another much celebrated pastime of former days con- 
 sisted in the May games. The first of May was called 
 May-day, and ^' the juvenile part of both sexes were ac- 
 customed to rise a little after midnight,^ and walk to the 
 neighboring wood, accompanied with music and blowing 
 of horns, where they break down branches from the trees, 
 and adorn them with nosegays, and crowns of flowers. 
 When this is done, they return with their booty home- 
 wards, about the rising of the sun, and make their doors 
 and windows to triumph with their flowery spoils ; and 
 the after part of the day is chiefly spent in dancing around 
 a tall pole, which is called a May-pole; and being placed 
 in a convenient part of the village, stands there, as it 
 were, consecrated to the goddess of flowers, without the 
 least violation being oftered to it in the whole circle of the 
 year." 
 
 It was a custom at the celebration of the May games, to 
 elect a lord and lady of the May, who presided over the 
 sports. These were decorated with scarfs, ribbons, and 
 other fineries. A pleasant character dressed out with 
 ribbons and flowers, figured in the village May games, 
 under the name of Jack-in-the-green. He carried a long 
 
 1 Strutt, 351. 
 
232 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 walking stick, with floral wreaths, whisking it about as he 
 performed the rustic dances. 
 
 These Mayings as they were termed, probably differed 
 in the kind and character of the sports indulged in accord- 
 ing to the different places and periods of time at which 
 they were celebrated. It was the breaking forth of the 
 spirit of the spring, and was characterized everywhere with 
 the fresh ebullition of young life. It was a pastime entirely 
 rustic in its character, and the neighborhood of cities and 
 villages was selected for its enjoyment. It was widely dif- 
 fused, prevailing not only in England, but also in Ireland 
 and Scotland. 
 
 May-day has been kept up in the neighborhood of Dublin, 
 where a high pole is decorated with garlands, and visitors 
 come in from the country and dance around it, the best 
 male and female dancer being chosen king and queen, and 
 placed on chairs.^ 
 
 So also in Edinburgh there is a pastime called gathering 
 the May-dew, which is on the first of May when about four 
 o'clock in the morning, at the ringing of bells, folk of all 
 clans,^ arrayed in all the colors of the rainbow, are seen 
 hurrying to a neighboring hill which in half an hour 
 appears like a moving mass of animation. At its summit 
 are a company of bakers, and other craftsmen, dressed in 
 kilts, dancing round a May-pole. The ever varying and 
 unceasing sounds of the bagpipes, tabours, fifes and other 
 instruments of music, almost stun the ear. About eight 
 o'clock the fun is all over, and by nine or ten only a few 
 staggering drunkards indicate that anything unusual has 
 occurred. 
 
 On the old May day is annually held in some parts of 
 Scotland the Beltane or Beltein.^ A town in Perthshire 
 is called Tillee Beltein, that is the eminence (or high 
 place) of the fire of Baal. I^ear this are two Druidical 
 temples of upright stones with a well adjacent to one of 
 
 ^Hone's moery Day Book, ii, 596. "" Idem, 610. ^ Idem, 659. 
 
EUROPE — ITS SOCIETY. 233 
 
 them, still held in great veneration for its sanctity, and, on 
 that account visited by vast numbers of superstitious peo- 
 ple. In the neighboring parish of Callander upon Beltein 
 day, they cut a circular trench in the ground, sufficient to 
 enclose the whole company assembled. They kindle a 
 fire, and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consist- 
 ence ot a custard. They knead a cake of oatmeal, which 
 is toasted in the embers against a stone. Having eaten the 
 custard, they divide the cake into as many equal parts as 
 there are persons present, and one part is made perfectly 
 black with charcoal. The bits of cake are then -put into a 
 bonnet, and are drawn blindfold, and he who draws the 
 black bit is considered as devoted to be sacrificed to Baal, 
 and is obliged to leap three times through the flame. 
 
 In Ireland, the Beltein is celebrated on the twenty-first 
 of June at the time of the solstice. There they make fires 
 on the tops of hills, and every member of the family is 
 made to pass through the fire, as they reckon this ceremony 
 to ensure good fortune during the succeeding year. And 
 in Ireland, May day is called la na Beal tina, and May eve 
 neen na Beal tina,^ that is, day and eve of Beal's fire, from 
 it having been, in heathen times, consecrated to the god 
 Baal, or Belus. From this cause the month of May is 
 termed in Irish mi na Beal tine. There is also a ceremony 
 practiced on May eve, of making the cows leap over the 
 lighted straw, or faggots. The reason assigned for that 
 practice now is to preserve the milk from being pilfered. It 
 would thus seem as if fragments of the old worship of 
 Baal, following the course of the Celtic emigration, had 
 early drifted to the British isles, and there entered into 
 the social life of the people. 
 
 ^Hone's Every Day Book, i, 594. 
 
 VI] 30 
 
CHAPTER n. 
 
 ELEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY IN MODERN EUROPE. 
 
 Scholastic Philosophy. 
 
 Philosophy regards the true in itself. Its search is after 
 truth ; the truth of thought, and the truth of things. 
 
 Man has two modes of existence, the spontaneous, and 
 the reflective. In the first, his mental faculties perform 
 their functions in a manner analogous to his bodily organs 
 spontaneously. They act by virtue of their original con- 
 stitution as they were made to act, and never stop to in- 
 quire as to the how, why, or wherefore, or as to the degree 
 of trust and confidence that may be reposed in their action. 
 They care as little how their minds produce ideas as they 
 do how their liver secretes bile, or by what means the food 
 taken into their stomachs produces growth. These are the 
 men of action. Those who do the business of the world. 
 They both think and reason ; but their thoughts and rea- 
 sonings all have reference to phenomena without them. 
 They are busied and wholly occupied with what are 
 termed life's realities and utilities ; and they use both their 
 bodies and minds in accomplishing what the most obviously 
 appear to be life's purposes here, without once seeming 
 even to dream that thought or knowledge, or existence, 
 may present any problems in themselves that are worthy 
 of solution. As the mill, without inquiry, grinds the grain 
 placed in its hopper, so their powers both of body and 
 mind spontaneously perform their varied functions without 
 expending a single thought upon the curious and compli- 
 cated machinery by which the results are produced. They 
 begin, grow, produce their legitimate fruits, and die; and 
 thus the great body of the world is made up. But not 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 235 
 
 all. There are those who reflect, and whose mode of exist- 
 ence is reflective. In these the thought, after it has gone 
 forth spontaneously, and entered into outward phenomena, 
 returns again to inquire as to itself; to ask by what war- 
 rant it came to exist; what are the conditions of its exist- 
 ence ; how it is enabled to exist and act ; why it can act 
 thus and not otherwise ; and what are the guaranties that 
 its action is in accordance with the truth of things. The 
 first impulse of the reflective is to account to itself for its 
 own thought ; to cast a searching glance into the movements 
 of its own machinery. "When once the action of thought 
 in its outward career is arrested, and it is turned inward 
 upon itself, then arises the conviction of the mysteries of 
 being. Questions are to be asked and answered, inquiries 
 to be made and satisfied, problems to be proposed and solved, 
 of which the man of mere action has, and can have, but 
 little, if any, conception. The riddle of existence presses 
 with all its weight for a satisfactory solution. 
 
 And this is the task philosophy proposes to itself. The 
 problems with which it immediately employs itself have 
 .little to do with the transactions of the world's busi- 
 ness or its general concerns ; although the investigations 
 and discoveries, which they have originated, really lie at 
 the foundation of almost every department of human in- 
 dustry. Let the naan of mere action sneer, if he chooses, 
 at the unproductiveness of philosophy. It is a world into 
 which he has never entered. It deals in problems of~ which 
 he can know nothing. But this he can do if he will set him- 
 self about it. He can estimate, to some extent, what would 
 have been his own status and condition, as well as that 
 of all the rest of the civilized world, if the Baconian philo- 
 sophy had never originated the sciences to which industry, 
 with all its ten thousand results, is, and ever will be, so 
 largely indebted. 
 
 The man who first reflected was the first philosopher. 
 His reflections may have been, and undoubtedly were, 
 crude and undigested. But he had entered into a world 
 
236 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 that was new, and entirely different from that in which 
 those around them were moving and acting. From those 
 he could have little sympathy. But once having thrown 
 his sounding line into the depths of his own being, he had 
 ample occupation for all his powers. Once coming face 
 to face with the mysteries of his own existence, and all its 
 varied modes of activity, he had enough to do. 
 
 Let me recall attention to some of the problems which 
 did or might present themselves for solution. What is the 
 character of my thought, and how is it conditioned? 
 What are my mental faculties, what the modes of their 
 activity, and the conditions under which they act? What 
 originates, directs, and controls their action ? In what 
 consists my own personal identity ? What are the elements 
 of this ego or J, of which my own consciousness makes me 
 acquainted ? Is there an external world without me, and, 
 if so, what are its conditions, and what its relations with 
 the internal world within me ? How can I be certified 
 of the existence of an external world, and how far can I 
 come to have a knowledge of it ? What are the means, 
 and what the sources of knowledge, and what the degree 
 of certainty it is capable of attaining ? How can I attain 
 to the knowledge of the infinite, the unconditioned, and to 
 what degree of certainty ? What is the obj ect and end of my 
 being, and what the aims that are the best calculated to secure 
 such object and end ? What are my relations with other 
 beings, and what the foundations of politics and morality ? 
 
 Such are some of the problems presented, and which 
 demand of philosophy a solution. It will be readily per- 
 ceived that it is entirely different from science. This lat- 
 ter consists in general laws, in obedience to which certain 
 related phenomena occur. Philosophy is the parent of 
 science, as it prescribes the methods of scientific research, 
 and investigates the certainty of knowledge upon which 
 repose scientific results. 
 
 We have identified philosophy with reflection, but we 
 must here call attention to two important facts as consti- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 237 
 
 tutlng two steps or stages in the progress of philosophy. 
 The first may be denominated the spontaneous stage, a 
 stage in which the reflection was without method. It was 
 illustrated in Socrates, and, to a large extent, in the world's 
 early philosophers. It was reflection upon all subjects 
 without a method in any. 
 
 This stage had its use. It was free from any bondage. 
 It was open to every inquiring spirit. Questions of everj^ 
 character could be asked, problems of every nature pro- 
 posed for solution. There was also freedom in their dis- 
 cussion, and in the arriving at conclusions. But the 
 conclusions, or results arrived at, had less of the character 
 of certainty. The old world's philosophy was more vague, 
 uncertain, less practical. But it was one well calculated 
 to reflect its history. 
 
 In the modern world we encounter the second stage. 
 Here we find reflection as still the important element, but 
 it is no longer free and unrestrained. It is reflection 
 conducted in accordance with method. Both Bacon and 
 Descartes, the two great founders of modern philosophy, 
 had each his method. Hence this will be found more 
 inseparably connected with modern philosophizing. The 
 coupling of these together, the pursuing of the one in 
 accordance with the other, has led to greater rigor in 
 the pursuit, and to a greater degree of certainty in the 
 conclusions arrived at. The history of modern philosophy 
 is more consecutive, and more satisfactory than that of 
 the ancient. 
 
 The systems of modern philosophy that bear to each other 
 certain relations, that are developed in a certain order ; 
 and in which human thought appears to move on consecu- 
 tively in its course, have their commencement with that 
 of the seventeenth century. From that period the history 
 of this element is replete with interest and instruction. 
 
 But the periods that preceded this cannot be entirely 
 passed over in silence. As the current systems of philo- 
 sophy always reflect the peculiar features of the age in 
 
238 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 which the J exist, they are never without interest to any one 
 desiring to comprehend humanity in all its forms and 
 phases, and periods of development. However little of 
 interest they may possess of themselves; however slight may 
 be the connection between them ; however apparently jum- 
 bled together the ideas of which they are composed ; yet 
 as the mirror in which the features of their age is reflected 
 they possess a significancy which must ever render them 
 objects of attraction and interest. Even the so-called scho- 
 lastic philosophy, so much derided in itself, so replete 
 with mere verbal distinctions ; so full of subtleties without 
 meaning, and of reasonings without premises or conclusions ; 
 so barren in its results, and so willingly dismissed from the 
 field of its labors, comes to us charged with a special mission 
 when recognized as the mirror of its age. 
 
 So far as regards any element of humanity, the middle 
 ages present in themselves very little that is attractive to 
 the student of history. But when viewed as a link in the 
 chain of historical development, and more especially as 
 presenting a soil in which we are to seek for the roots of 
 institutions, which had their growth and development in 
 subsequent ages, we are compelled to regard them with no 
 inconsiderable an amount of interest. The great charac- 
 teristic of the middle ages is that of conflict ; conflict be- 
 tween the elements of humanity, conflict between the old and 
 the new, the Roman and the Teutonic ; conflict between the 
 principles and ideas that had been accustomed to exercise 
 dominion in the old Roman world, and others that origin- 
 ated in the Teutonic, or had grown out of the relations be- 
 tween the two ; conflict between a theology that had become 
 dry and barren, and a philosophy that had become strongly 
 connected with it. This last brings to view the great fea- 
 ture of the scholastic philosophy. It was a union and yet 
 a struggle between theology and philosophy, and its great 
 mission is to exhibit the fruits of that union, and that strug- 
 gle. It continued while the union was preserved, it be- 
 came" extinct when the final separation was efi'ected. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 239 
 
 The middle ages commence with Charlemagne. He 
 first opened the schools and encouraged learning. These 
 were opened in the episcopal sees, in the monasteries, 
 cloisters, and convents,^ so that these became, in fact, the 
 cradles of modern philosophy. Here also were the homes 
 of theology. It was domiciled here before the entrance 
 of philosophy. The theology was that of the Roman 
 Catholic church. Its doctrines present themselves as the 
 faith of the middle ages. They constituted the bases upon 
 which all thinking must be conducted. Hence, philosophy, 
 or reflection, must busy itself with those doctrines. It 
 can only aid in investigating, and more clearly settling, 
 the elements of faith. Its office must be subordinate, 
 and, hence, always subject to restraint. The social, the 
 moral, the thinking, even the political, were almost 
 wholly subject to the ecclesiastical power. Philosophy, 
 on its summons, came to its aid, although in bonds ; and 
 employed, as its means, logic and metaphysics, or dia- 
 lectics, thus giving birth to the scholastic philosophy. 
 
 There are reckoned three distinct periods in scholasti- 
 cism : 1. That which is characterized by the absolute sub- 
 ordination of philosophy to theology. 2. That marked 
 by the alliance of philosophy with theology.^ 3. That in 
 which occurs the commencement of a separation, feeble at 
 first, but which little by little increases until the birth of 
 modern philosophy. 
 
 In the first, scholasticism is the employment of philo- 
 sophy, simply as the form in which theology should pre- 
 sent itself. It commences with the ninth, and extends to 
 the middle of the eleventh century. During this period, 
 with the exception of Erigena, nothing appears but partial 
 conceptions, without the idea of constructing a philosophy. 
 The first impulse was given by Alcuinus, who was called 
 from an English cloister by Charlemagne, and whose 
 labors in France were principally directed to bring about 
 
 Cousin, II, 16. ^ Idem, 17. 
 
240 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the uDion of the two social elements, force and intellect ; 
 and to make the throne of the one the seat of the other, 
 a mission well adapted to such an age of force. He 
 created schools, hut no philosophical system. 
 
 He was succeeded by John Scotus, surnamed Erigena, 
 from the fact of his being an Irishman, who was also 
 invited by Charles the Bold to France, where he found 
 himself the centre of intellectual activity. This system re- 
 garded philosophy as the science of the principles of all 
 things, and as inseparable from religion. God was re- 
 garded as the essence of all things, and from the plenitude 
 of his nature they are all derived, and to him ultimately 
 return. It was in truth a vast system of pantheism, and sub- 
 jected him to the charge of heresy. His ideas were mostly 
 borowed from the ancient philosophies, and not being the 
 product of his age, astonished far more than they instructed 
 it. 
 
 St. Anselm, born at Aost in Piedmont, in 1034, was a 
 second Augustine, and superior to those of his age in the 
 clearness of his understanding, and powers of logic. He 
 planned a system of religious philosophy, to be effected by 
 combining the results of controversies on such subjects, in 
 accordance generally with the views of St. Augustine. 
 He endeavored to state systematically the great truths of 
 ^ religion on principles of common reason, at the same time 
 presupposing the more solid foundation of religious convic- 
 tion. He also sought to prove the existence of God from 
 the fact of one idea of an Almighty power. He is regarded 
 as the inventor of scholastic metaphysics, but subsequent 
 ideas and systems have in a great measure superseded 
 those which he put forth. 
 
 In the latter part of the eleventh century, and therefore 
 coming within the second period above indicated, appeared 
 Eoscellin, who established the school of nominalism in 
 contradistinction to that of realism, which had held undis- 
 puted sway through the previous period. The former was 
 claimed to derive its origin from Plato, the latter from 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 241 
 
 Aristotle. The great war carried on in the bosom of scho- 
 lasticism was waged by the adherents of these two schools, 
 and this controversy, under modified forms, has prevailed 
 during subsequent periods in the history of philosophy. 
 It is important, therefore, to inquire what was the point 
 of the controversy. 
 
 This related to the word genus, and the word species. 
 The question raised is whether these words represent an 
 actual something, existing externally, or is it a mere name, 
 which designates a certain collection of individuals ? These 
 words, genus and species, came under the denomination 
 of universals. 
 
 The realists held fast to the objective reality of the uni- 
 versals, and William de Champeaux maintained that 
 genera and species, so far from being mere names, nomi- 
 nal entities,^ are the only entities that exist, and that the 
 individuals, in which it has been attempted to resolve 
 genera, have existence themselves only through relation to 
 what is universal. He claimed that all that exists is hu- 
 manity, of which all men are but fragments. These were 
 the disciples of Aristotle. 
 
 On the other hand, the nominalists maintained that 
 genera and species are simple abstractions which the mind 
 forms by the comparison of a certain number of individuals, 
 which it reduces to a common idea; that all such were 
 simply names, representations, without any reality. They 
 held that there were no universal conceptions, no species, 
 no class, and that everything which is, exists -only as 
 separate in its pure individuality. There can, therefore, 
 be no pure thinking, but only a representation and sensuous 
 perception. This doctrine had its consequences. If every 
 genus is a mere word, there can be no reality except in 
 individuals. Unities can be no other than simple abstrac- 
 tions, and hence in the Holy Trinity there is nothing real 
 
 * Cousin, II, 31. 
 
 VI] 31 
 
242 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 except the three persons, nothing but a nominal unity, a 
 simple sign representing the relation of the three. 
 
 Again, if the individuals are the only realities, it would 
 follow that the senses, which perceive individual existences, 
 are at bottom the only sources of knowledge, and, further 
 than this, there can be no absolute affirmation respecting 
 things, since all absolute affirmation implies a general idea, 
 which according to this system is destitute of all real reality. 
 This opens the direct road to skepticism. 
 
 But if the realist doctrine be true, especially as expounded 
 by William de Champeaux, that the objects represented 
 by general ideas are the only realities, of which individuals 
 are only the fragments or forms, then we have opened up 
 the road to pantheism. And although these consequences 
 were not at first clearly apprehended, yet it was seen from 
 the first that there was at the foundation of the question, 
 matter of the greatest importance, and that the destiny of 
 human reason was involved in the controversy. 
 
 The ultimate limit of realism was reached by "William 
 de Champeaux, about the close of the eleventh century, 
 who, in seeking to place it upon impregnable grounds, ar- 
 rived at the theory that universals individualize themselves 
 in particular beings in such a way that individuals, identi- 
 cal as their essence, differ only by the variety of their 
 accidents or transient forms. 
 
 This brings us to the celebrated Peter Abelard, born in 
 Brittany in 1079, died in 1142, aged sixty-three years. He 
 was a brilliant genius, and possessed great power as a 
 disputant and lecturer. He signalized himself by attacking 
 and ultimately vanquishing in debate his teacher, William 
 de Champeaux. But in overthrowing realism he did not 
 establish nominalism. He first put forth a middle ground, 
 that of conceptualism. He refused to consider universals 
 as mere words, pure conventions, but considered them as 
 forms of the mind. Every individual, according to him, is 
 composed of matter and form ; the animal is the matter, a 
 unit ; the form is various, diverse. The species is com- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 243 
 
 posed by a collection of essences, which sustain individual 
 forms, while the genus is composed by a collection of the 
 substantial differences of different species. The particular 
 essence which forms the genus animal, results from a certain 
 matter, essence of body, and substantial forms which can 
 only exist essentially there. But the active mind of 
 Abelard could not rest in quiet without claiming the supre- 
 macy for that which lay at the foundation of its activity, 
 the reason. The theology of that period, under the guid- 
 ing care of St. Anselm, had given the predominance to 
 faith as the rule of philosophy, claiming that '' faith had its 
 own proper certainty, independent of the philosophical 
 conceptions by which the reason attempts to penetrate to 
 a comprehension of the revealed doctrine.^ Abelard 
 sought to reverse this doctrine, claiming that faith had no 
 certainty except in so far as it was transformed into philo- 
 sophy; that previous to this transformation it could be 
 nothing but a provisional opinion. In the enforcement of 
 his opinions he brought logic as an independent power 
 into the arena of theological debate, and in undertaking to 
 bring faith within the empire of reason, and insisting that 
 all dogmas should be presented under a rational form, he 
 made a commencement which marks a new epoch in the 
 history of speculative philosophy, viz : that which marks 
 the struggle of reason against authority, some centuries 
 later the foundation of the reformation. 
 
 There now occurred a triple reaction against the abuse 
 of dialectics, and from useless speculations upon abstrac- 
 tions, tending to dry up the human mind, philosophy first 
 took refuge in mysticism, and Hugh and Eichard of St. 
 Victor called the attention of mankind to the great truth 
 that God is love, and summoned the dialecticians to sus- 
 pend, for a moment, their dry wrangling and stop to con- 
 template. They claimed for intuition a high place in the 
 working of the mind. 
 
 History of Philosophy, i, 283. 
 
244 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The second reaction against the abuse of scholasticism 
 consisted in the recall to more positive studies under the 
 guidance of Peter Lombard, the master of sentences, who 
 collected the opinions of the fathers upon the principal 
 points of theology and philosophy, which, for a long time, 
 was received as a classical text book for the explanations 
 of professors. 
 
 The third reaction was in the criticism of John of Salis- 
 bury, who died in 1180. He called attention to the fact 
 that the science of dialectics always remains a barren or 
 dead science unless it receives fruitfulness and life from 
 other sciences, and he accused the dialecticians of never 
 arriving at any applications, and of reversing the natural 
 order of science. 
 
 Another refuge still was found in the pantheistic systems 
 of Amaury de Chartres, and David deDinant. These held 
 that "everything is God, and God is everything. The 
 creator and the creature are one and the same being. 
 Ideas are at once creative and created. God is the end of 
 all things, in the sense that all things must return to him 
 in order to constitute with him an immutable individuality. 
 Just as Abraham and Isaac are nothing but individualiza- 
 tions of human nature, so all beings are only individual 
 forms of one sole essence." This was the ideal pantheism 
 of de Chartres. De Dinant held to a material pantheism 
 that " God is the universal matter, and that the forms, that 
 is, everything not material, are but imaginary accidents." 
 
 A fact in history now brought a fresh accession to the 
 philosophical mind of Europe. The Arabs passed into 
 Spain, and there founded an empire. On the eastern coasts 
 of the Mediterranean they had everywhere encountered 
 the Alexandrians and Aristotle. The Arabian mind seized 
 with avidity the doctrines of the great peripatetic, and 
 having passed through that subtle alembic they were in- 
 troduced into the schools of Spain. To these schools came 
 some of the theologians of Europe to study, and this gave 
 a new activity to philosophical speculations in the last half 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 245 
 
 of the twelfth century. A new power was given to Aris- 
 totle. He was in a manner installed the sovereign and in- 
 fallible arbiter of truth and falsehood in all matters of 
 science. A new impulse was given to dialectics. The circle 
 of the sciences, and the field of inquiry was enlarged. 'New 
 ideas and new combinations came forth. Philosophy and 
 science came to be distinguished from each other and to 
 have each its appropriate place. 
 
 Several philosophers, or theologians, distinguish this era, 
 but all the anterior conceptions seem to be summed up and 
 systematized by the labors of the two most celebrated doc- 
 tors of the middle ages, Bonaventura and Thomas Aquinas. 
 Of these, the object of the first was to establish the union 
 of the peripatetic philosophj^ with the doctrines of the mys- 
 tic school, to make proclamation of bans between logic and 
 intuition. The second " reared upon the basis of logic 
 alone a vast edifice of which the different stories corre- 
 sponded to all orders of human knowledge." 
 
 The first was a Tuscan and born in 1221, died in 1274, 
 He promulgated the doctrine of illumination distinguish- 
 ing four modes of the communication of the light.^ 
 
 1. The external light, and this explains the mechanical 
 arts, and subserves the corporeal wants of man. Its divi- 
 sions correspond with the divisions of human industry. 
 
 2. The inferior light, which produces sensitive know- 
 ledge, and enlightens external forms. The sensitive spirit 
 resides in the nerves, and its essence is multiplied in the 
 &Ye senses. 
 
 The internal light which produces philosophical know- 
 ledge, seeking after hidden causes by means of principles 
 of truth contained in the nature of man. Truths are of 
 three sorts, as they are related to words, to things, or to 
 actions. Hence philosophy has three branches, the ra- 
 tional, natural, and moral. The rational, taken in relation 
 to ideas, is grammar; in relation to teaching, logic; and in 
 
 ' Mst. Phil , I, 2dl. 
 
246 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the production of emotions, rhetoric. The natural com- 
 prehends physics, mathematics, and metaphysics, which, 
 embracing the universe of beings, refers them back, accord- 
 ing to typical ideas, to God, the source from which they 
 sprang. The moral is divided into monastic, economic, 
 and political, according as it relates to the individual, to 
 the family or to the state. 
 
 4. The superior light, which comes from grace and the 
 Holy Scriptures, and which gives the knowledge of truths 
 that sanctify. This light is simple and single in so far as 
 it makes known the literal sense of revelation, and three- 
 fold in so far as it makes known the spiritual sense, which 
 is either allegorical, moral, or analogical. The whole 
 scripture doctrine refers to three points, the eternal gene- 
 ration and incarnation of the logos or wol^d; the rule of 
 life; and the union of God and the soul; the first belong- 
 ing to the doctors, the second to the preachers, and the 
 third to the mystics. He seeks in the mechanic arts, and 
 in the sphere of sensitive knowledge, for images of the 
 generation of the logos, of the rule of life, and of the 
 alliance of the soul with God. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas, more generally known as St. Thomas, 
 was a N'eapolitan, born in 1227, and died in 1274. His 
 system is both diversified and extensive, foreshadowing some 
 of the points and principles that have received their full 
 development in modern philosophy. 
 
 He considered the intellectual sphere under three rela- 
 tions, viz : First. The knowledge of causes as explaining 
 effects. Second. The point of difference between the 
 intellect and the senses, the latter referring to particular 
 things, the former embracing the universal. Third. The 
 intelligibility of things depends upon their proportion to 
 the intellect, which is the greater the more it is freed from 
 material conditions. Things become, therefore, the more 
 intelligible the more they are separated from matter. 
 Hence the most intellectual and regulative science is meta- 
 physics. All other speculative sciences are subordinate, 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 247 
 
 while the practical, being related to the particular activity 
 of man, are destitute of the greatest generality. 
 
 As to human science he proposes this important question.^ 
 Do its principles result from a preexisting experimental 
 knowledge ? In the principles of science he distinguishes 
 two elements : 1. The terms which are the matter of these 
 principles. 2. The relations of these terms. The know- 
 ledge of the first, he states, depends upon a notion furnished 
 by experience ; while that of their relation, or the com- 
 plexus, as he terms it, of the terms, is not derived from 
 experience. As the preexisting habit of virtue leads to 
 the virtuous act, so the acquisition of science implies that 
 there preexisted in our minds the germs of rational con- 
 ceptions. Thus is dimly shadowed forth the philosophy of 
 Kant. This principle he carries out by maintaining that 
 all scientific demonstration results from the union of two 
 elements, the one empirical, the other rational ; the one 
 furnishing the matter of the demonstration, the other its 
 productive form. 
 
 The question of universals he solved by applying his 
 ideas concerning form and matter. The matter of the uni- 
 versal idea is the union of the attributes of human nature. 
 Hence universals are a part of the thing ; their matter exists 
 solely in each individual. Their form is the character of 
 universality applied to this matter, this character being ob- 
 tained only by abstracting what is peculiar to each indivi- 
 dual in order to consider what is common to all. Universals 
 are, therefore, a part of the intellect. 
 
 He demonstrates the existence of God in ^ve different 
 ways, in each of which demonstrations there is a double 
 element, viz: one furnished by experience, and one from 
 the reason. Of these five demonstrations, we have : 
 
 1. That from the fact of motion. Experience establishes 
 this fact. But motion can only be communicated through 
 the influence of a being who is himself in motion. The col- 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy, i, 295. 
 
248 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 lective whole of mutable thiDgs cannot pass from the poten- 
 tial to the active state, except there exist a being who has 
 motion in act, without having it in mere potentiality, that 
 is, a being who can cause to move without being himself 
 mutable. The rational element in this demonstration is 
 all motion supposes an immutable principle. 
 
 2. That from cause and effect. Experience establishes 
 that there exists in the sensible world a series of causes 
 and effects. Everything is cause and effect, or there 
 exists a being who is cause without being effect. The 
 first supposition is contradictory, as no being can be at 
 once cause and effect of himself. The rational element 
 here is, every series of effects supposes a primary cause. 
 
 3. That from generation and dissolution. Experience 
 establishes that there exists in nature, a law of generation 
 and dissolution of things. Everything subject to it is 
 simply possible, not necessary, as there was a time when it 
 did not yet exist. But the possible suppose the necessary. 
 Therefore there exists a being who is necessary. The ra- 
 tional element here is, the possible supposes the necessary. 
 
 4. That from goodness and perfection. Experience 
 teaches that in the various beings that compose the uni- 
 verse there are various degrees of goodness and perfection. 
 But degrees of perfection cannot be conceived except as they 
 participate of a perfection which admits of no degrees. The 
 rational element here is, the relative supposes the absolute. 
 
 5. That from design. Experience teaches that bodies 
 destitute of intelligence are ever tending to a good and 
 useful end. This proves intention, design in nature. But 
 things destitute of intelligence cannot tend to an end, except 
 as directed hy intelligence. There exists, therefore, an or- 
 daining intelligence. The rational element here is, order 
 supposes intelligence. 
 
 These rational principles are all deduced from two 
 notions : 1. The notion of necessary and absolute existence, 
 without which the relative and contingent are not conceiv- 
 able. 2. The notion of cause, without which neither sue- 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 249 
 
 cession, nor motion, nor order of phenomena could be 
 conceived. 
 
 He connected cosmology with theology by considering 
 nature as a representative of that which is in G-od, as a 
 mirror of the divine essence. This representation, how- 
 ever, is not an image, but a vestige, which, without repro- 
 ducing the form of the cause, merely attests its action. 
 All creatures are the representation of the trinity in the 
 way of vestige. 
 
 He repudiated the doctrine of Origen, that bodies, are the 
 prison of the soul, and were created only to punish in 
 them the faults of intelligent creatures, but held that they 
 must partake of the quality of good, and are an effect of 
 the divine goodness that, although imperfect, yet they con- 
 cur to the perfection of the universe, which ought to com- 
 prehend a hierarchy of beings, subordinate one to another, 
 according to the degrees of perfection they possess. 
 
 He held that there are three souls in man in the sense 
 only that the mind, which in its essence is one, possesses a 
 threefold life, viz : " the rational life, which exerts its func- 
 tions without any corporeal organ ; the sensitive life, which 
 has need of a corporeal organ ; and the vegetative life, 
 which needs not only a corporeal organ, but a corporeal 
 force besides. The rational life is divided into two 
 branches, corresponding to intelligence and will. 
 
 Immediately succeeding Thomas Aquinas was Duns 
 Scotus, born in ^N'orthumberland in 1275, and who died in 
 1308, who attacked the system of Thomas Aquinas, and 
 endeavored to ascertain some certain principle of know- 
 ledge, whether intellectual or sensible, and applied himself 
 to demonstrate the truth and necessity of revelation. He 
 asserted that the universal is contained in the particular, 
 not merely in posse but in actu; that it is not created 
 by the understanding, but communicated to it ; and that 
 the nature of things is determined to particular or uni- 
 versal by a higher principle. He was the founder of a 
 
 VI] 32 
 
250 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 school, the Scotists, who distinguished themselves for 
 subtiltj of disputation, and for incessant disputes with the 
 Thomists. 
 
 "We now arrive at the third period in scholasticism, at 
 which some symptoms we have previously seen, begin to 
 develop themselves more freely, teuding to a separation 
 between philosophy and theology. Two very remarkable 
 men mark its first movements. These were Koger Bacon, 
 and Raymond Lulli. The first an Englishman, born in 
 1214, died in 1294. He acquired great celebrity by his 
 knowledge of mathematics, chemistry, physics, and the 
 languages, as also by his many original ideas and inven- 
 tions. He detected the false principles of the philosophical 
 system of his time, and instead of the frivolous distinctions 
 then established, was desirous of opening new paths to 
 inquiry through the study of nature and the languages. 
 He fully realized the truth that every theory of the physi- 
 cal world should have its basis in observation of the pro- 
 cesses of nature. He saw, also, that to simple observation 
 must be joined experiment. He arraigned the scholastic 
 philosophy at the bar of human reason, and brought for- 
 ward against it three principal accusations : 1. He re- 
 proached it for its blind credulity, in submitting so unre- 
 servedly to the authority of Aristotle. 2. He charges it 
 with gross ignorance of antiquity both sacred and pro- 
 fane, and ignorance so deep and profound, that even its 
 Aristotle is only a counterfeit one, a substitute of his Arabic 
 and other commentators in the place of the real one. 3. 
 He accuses it of moving in a circle of abstractions, of ig- 
 noring all that is real, and of entirely neglecting the observ- 
 ation of nature; of being artificial, subtle, disputatious, 
 and pedantic ; in fine, of shutting up the human mind 
 within the schools, far away from nature and the works of 
 God. Upon the correctness of these accusations the com- 
 ing centuries have pronounced their unmistakable verdict. 
 He was thus, in a two-fold aspect, the precursor of the great 
 Bacon, but he was three centuries too early. The monkish 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 251 
 
 spirit of the time could afford him no toleration, and he 
 was persecuted as a sorcerer. 
 
 Eaymond Lulli was a Majorcase, born in 1234, died in 
 1315. He invented what he termed the ars magna, the 
 great art, by which he hoped to reform philosophy and the 
 sciences. It made the mind a kind of automaton, whose 
 action consisted in combining mechanically tables of ideas 
 disposed in such a way that their different correlations would 
 furnish answers to all imaginable questions. The object 
 was to procure at will, in such or such a case, in such or such 
 a circle, such or such a principle. The invention was really 
 ingenious, and that universal instrument, which was to dis- 
 pense with all other labor, excited at first great enthusiasm ; 
 but the intellectual mechanism proved to be nothing but 
 the dialectic method carried to its last consequences, and 
 showed only the barrenness of that mere verbal science. 
 
 In the beginning of the fourteenth century the doctrine 
 of nominalism was revived in the person of Occam, an 
 Englishman, who was an independent thinker, refusing 
 to submit to authority unsustained by reason. He main- 
 tained that " genera can have existence only in things or 
 in God. In things there are no genera, for in them they 
 would exist either wholly or partially; in God they are 
 not as an independent essence, but as a simple object of 
 knowledge, in the mind they are nothing more. 
 
 u Prior to this period, scholasticism had maintained that 
 between the exterior bodies placed before us, and the mind 
 of man,^ there are images which belong to the exterior bodies 
 and make more or less a part of them, certain images or 
 sensible forms which represent external objects by the con- 
 formity which they have with them. So the mind was 
 supposed to be able to know spiritual beings only through 
 the medium of intelligible species." 
 
 Occam combated this doctrine, maintaining that there 
 is nothing real but spiritual or material beings, and the 
 
 Cousin f II, 32. 
 
252 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 mind of man, which directly conceives them. He was 
 the forerunner of Eeid and the Scotch school. He claimed 
 that a knowledge of God was only attainable through his 
 attributes, and that we can only know substances through 
 their attributes, and hence have no idea of the nature of sub- 
 stances. That the soul can only be known through its 
 qualities, and that we have no knowledge of the substance 
 of the soul. One of the answers made by the theological 
 realists to the nominalists was, that ''it is so true that 
 there are genera, entirely distinct from the individuals, to 
 which it is sought to reduce them,^ that nature, to which 
 the nominalists incessantly appeal, sports with forms and 
 preserves the genera, and that every genus represents a 
 real unity." 
 
 The controversies bearing more especially upon the 
 realistic and nominalistic doctrines were thus carried on 
 through most of the fourteenth century, but without pro- 
 ducing any fruits or results at all proportioned to the 
 amount of intellectual activity employed about them. 
 This led towards the latter part of the fourteenth and the 
 forepart of the fifteenth, to a double reaction. The first 
 sought a refuge in mysticism. Its representative was Ger- 
 son, chancellor of the University of Paris, a Frenchman, 
 born 1363, died 1429. 
 
 According to Gerson, ordinary philosophy proceeds by a 
 train of arguments, and leads regularly but slowly to God, 
 by setting out through a multitude of media either from 
 nature or from man. 
 
 The other reaction was found in the tendency which had 
 for its object the union of religious speculations with the 
 observation of nature and of man. The representative of 
 this tendency was Raymond of Sebonde who taught at 
 Toulouse in 1436. He asserted '' that man had received 
 from the Almighty two books,^ wherein he may discover 
 the important facts which concern his relation to his crea- 
 
 Cousin, II, 36. "^ Tenneman, 357. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 253 
 
 tor, viz : the book of revelation and that of nature ; the 
 latter of which was the most universal in its contents, and 
 the most perspicuous. He endeavored by argument to 
 deduce the theology of his age, even in its more peculiar 
 doctrines, from the contemplation of nature and of man. 
 
 Transition from the Scholastic to the Modern Philosophy. 
 
 Although the days of scholasticism were not absolutely 
 numbered with the declining years of the fourteenth 
 century, yet its real life, that which made it a vital, liv- 
 ing system, might be said to expire with that century. 
 It had had its day, performed its mission, and was now 
 passing away. What was the purpose it answered by 
 existing ? 
 
 Among the fundamental laws of evolution is reckoned 
 the following taken by analogy from the human organism. 
 " Every function is successively executed by two (sometimes 
 more) organs; of which one is primitive, transitory, pro- 
 visional ; the other secondary, definite, permanent." ^ The 
 relations between the two are that the first is found first 
 supplying the place of the second, then coexisting with it 
 during the early phases of the latter's evolution ; and finally 
 when the second has acquired due development, the first 
 either ceases its function altogether, or performs it incom- 
 pletely. Illustrations in the living organism. Provisional 
 milk teeth ; down afterwards replaced by hair ; the brachise 
 of the tadpole. The changes in organs occurring in the 
 embryonic system of viviperous animals ofier a further 
 illustration. 
 
 Under the operation of this law the scholastic philosophy 
 will, finds its place in the evolution of philosophy historically, 
 among the primitive, transitory, provisional organs. It is 
 something more than a mere scafiblding constructed for 
 the sole purpose of uprearing and perfecting the great 
 
 Leioes's Comte, 33. 
 
254 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 philosophical edifice, because it is for the time being the 
 edifice itself, and is destined forever to form some part 
 of it. 
 
 The scholastic philosophy allowed thought only upon 
 one condition, that it should coincide with theology. 
 Thus, it carried along with it, and held the mind through 
 the centuries, to an unvarying unity. This, of itself, gave 
 to the European mind, while in its formative stages, a 
 temperament, character, and habitude, strong and robust. 
 Its discussions, and the ideas it put forth, also had the 
 effect to root deeply in the human intelligence, two funda- 
 mental ideas, those of God and his creation. Many of the 
 metaphysical and moral conceptions of that philosophy 
 are still living, having received their full development at 
 later periods in the history of philosophy. It is true, the 
 m.ethod employed by it was radically vicious, as it sought 
 in conceptions purely logical, the principle of the explana- 
 tion of things ; whereas, such conceptions can really fur- 
 nish nothing but the means of scientific classification and 
 arrangement. And yet that method required develop- 
 ment, and it must now be acknowledged that the great 
 logical force which distinguishes the modern mind, is 
 due to the adoption and systematic carrying out of this 
 method. 
 
 Besides, although it gave to the things an entire and 
 complete supremacy, yet it did make the objects of 
 faith also the objects of thought. It raised men above the 
 sphere of unconditional faith. It admitted of doubt, of 
 investigation, of the acquisition of knowledge, and thus 
 by its very effort at demonstration in theology, it contri- 
 buted to establish the authority of reason. Having thus 
 introduced into the world the thinking spirit, and appealed 
 to its actions in matters of faith, it is not certainly surpris- 
 ing that that spirit, gathering continued strength by its 
 very action upon that appeal, should ultimately claim its 
 own rights and prerogatives, and thus lead to the develop- 
 ment of the modern system of philosophy. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 255 
 
 But although the scholastic philosophy closed with the 
 fourteenth century, yet modern philosophy did not com- 
 mence until the beginning of the seventeenth. What 
 relations then do the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries sus- 
 tain to the history of philosophy ? Very much what the 
 first decade of years immediately succeeding puberty, sus- 
 tain to the life of the individual. 
 
 The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were characterized 
 by intense activity, enterprise, discovery, and invention. 
 All the elements and ideas that had long been acquiring 
 a partial development under the sway of the church, now 
 became clamorous for a wider field, and greater freedom 
 in action. Europe seemed to awake, if not from the 
 slumber, at least from the stationary stand point of centu- 
 ries, and to feel the pulses of a new life. Her difiPerent 
 peoples began each to enter upon their respective missions, 
 and the development and solution of those principles and 
 problems, which, in the world's advancing civilization, had 
 been confided to them. 
 
 A number of important events and facts precede and 
 occupy this period. Among the more prominent of these 
 are the Crusades, the invention of printing, the conquest of 
 Constantinople, the discovery of the passage around the 
 Cape of Good Hope to India, the discovery of the new world, 
 the reformation, the growing independence of the church in 
 the life of the state, the influence acquired by public opinion, 
 the stronger consolidation of the civil authority, the advance- 
 ment of experimental knowledge and the sciences, and the 
 cultivation and improvement of the languages of modern 
 Europe based upon a more intimate knowledge of the 
 classics. 
 
 Of all these, the most important in its bearing upon the 
 destinies of philosophy was the conquest of Constantinople 
 by the Turks, occurring about the middle of the fifteenth 
 century. Within the walls of that city were collected the 
 treasures of ancient learning, the works of the Grecian 
 philosophers. There lay Plato and Aristotle embalmed in 
 
256 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 their original G-reek. There were the most faultless models 
 of composition then existing in the world. To all these 
 was applicable the language of the caliph Omar when he 
 consigned to the flames the vast Alexandrian library, viz : 
 that if they contained nothing but the Koran they were 
 useless; if anything not within the Koran, they were irre- 
 ligious, and in either case should be destroyed. 
 
 These treasures, therefore, could not abide in Constanti- 
 nople. They became the property of Europe, first of Italy, 
 then of France, Spain, Germany and England. They 
 awoke the mind everywhere to a new life. 
 
 The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries constitute the period 
 of transition between the scholastic and modern philosophy. 
 The introduction of the Greek language, literature and 
 philosophy into Europe aroused and intoxicated the minds 
 of her scholars. The first process was that of absorption. 
 The various Greek systems, in the language in which they 
 were written, were received into the European mind, that 
 mind so recently imbued with theological learning, and 
 just making its escape from the rigid bonds of scholastic 
 reasoning. 
 
 The next process was its transforming influence upon the 
 receptive mind. It is a property of the mind " to grow by 
 what it feeds on." It is the spark issued from great men- 
 tal batteries that " touches the electric chain wherewith we 
 are darkly bound." The bringing the mind of Europe 
 directly in contact with those great original thinkers, and 
 that through those peerless models of taste and beauty, 
 which the Greek language was more especially qualifled 
 to embody and present, could not but work great changes, 
 not in the original constitution, but in the modes of action 
 and the manner of thinking of the European mind. 
 
 The third and last process was in the reproduction of 
 the Grecian systems of thought with such modiflcations as 
 the European mind, acting upon its original constitution, 
 and yet carrying along with it many of the principles of 
 its earlier scholastic culture, and also strongly impressed 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 257 
 
 with tlie spirit of its own age, would be likely to originate. 
 E'either the philosophers nor the philosophizing of this 
 transition period are subjects of profitable study, certainly 
 not to any extent of detail. It will be more profitable, 
 with a view to the better understanding of the future 
 developments of philosophy, to inquire here into the four 
 great systems, or rather into the four great channels, into 
 some one of which, all philosophical thinking must 
 necessarily run, and the full and complete development 
 of each one of which, it is for all coming time to unfold 
 and explain. These channels are sensualism, idealism, 
 skepticism and mysticism. In some one of these singly, 
 or in two or more combined together, are to be found 
 all the schools and systems of philosophy that ever existed. 
 
 It is important here to observe that the one ground 
 common to all these, the one power to which they all 
 appeal, the one arbiter to whose decrees they all submit, 
 is that of personal consciousness. That this is the same 
 in every individual all reasoning on these subjects assumes, 
 and this is the one great fact which identifies every human 
 being as a member of one and the same race. In regard 
 to this it is true that consciousness is the " universe in the 
 limits of human perception," and that whatever cannot find 
 a recognition in the consciousness of the individual, cannot, 
 as to him, exist at all. 
 
 It is in the facts of consciousness that we find the four 
 great channels to which reference has just been made. 
 The first and the most obvious is sensualism. 
 
 The organs of sense are variously afiected through 
 agencies apparently external to ourselves. The sensations 
 produced are recognized in the consciousness, and thus be- 
 come facts of the mental being. They are referred to the im- 
 pression made upon the organs, and thus become connected 
 with the organism. At the same time, reference is made 
 to external objects, which then become the root of our 
 sensations, and hence of our ideas. 
 
 VI] 33 
 
258 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATIOiq. 
 
 It is an incontestible truth that there are quite a large 
 number of phenomena of such a character that we can 
 neither produce nor destroy them, neither augment nor 
 diminish them. Thus the emotions, desires, passions, 
 propensities, exist within us, and a series of phenomena to 
 which they are related, without us ; introducing into the 
 soul sensations, not simply irrespective of its will, hut in 
 spite of it. Thus the phenomenon of sensation is, there- 
 fore, clearly without the empire of the will. It is also 
 equally clear that very many of the motives to action, 
 influencing conduct, spring from the sensations. And so 
 also observation and analysis show that large classes of 
 ideas, and the knowledge which they constitute, are derived 
 from the same source. 
 
 "With these concessions the sensualistic schools and 
 systems go further, and claim that we are purely creatures 
 of sensation, and have no ideas, and no knowledge, except 
 what is derived from this source ; that consciousness finds 
 its limits in sensation, and thus the ultimate result is ma- 
 terialism. 
 
 This doctrine in its extent can only be true on condition 
 that consciousness cannot render up a single element which 
 sensation cannot produce and explain. But there are 
 elements wholly inexplicable upon that principle. Whence 
 the will, the voluntary principle; the idea of personal iden- 
 tity ; the idea of unity ; that of time and space ; the idea of 
 infinity ; in other words, the elements that enter into the 
 composition of the human soul. Those are necessarily 
 purely psychological and derive nothing from sensation. 
 
 Upon the strength of these facts and the reasonings con- 
 nected with them, idealism builds up its exclusive systems. 
 Finding so many and such powerful elements in the soul, 
 and looking singly at them, it annihilates the material 
 world, and founds on the soul alone its systems of thought 
 and philosophy. 
 
 All the systems and schools, whether sensualistic or ideal- 
 istic, are dogmatical in their character. They are so because 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 269 
 
 tbeir doctrines are all positive affirmations, and must be met 
 by an admission, a denial, or a qualification. When these 
 systems and schools are pushed to their extremest limits, and 
 arrive at their ultimate conclusions, what are they ? The 
 one banishes the human soul, the other the material 
 world. What are the avenues of escape aside from the 
 reasonings by which their conclusions may be combated. 
 
 There are two, skepticism and mysticism. The first 
 receives those that think; the second, those that feel. 
 
 Skepticism is wholly oppose to dogmatism. While act- 
 ing upon its legitimate principles, it affirms nothing. It 
 simply doubts, inquires, asks solutions. ^'It is the first 
 appearance of common sense upon the stage of philosophy." 
 It should properly precede or lie at the foundation of every 
 sensualistic and idealistic system. It should accompany 
 those systems in each process and progress. In the sensual- 
 istic it should ask : Is every sensation by itself infallible ? 
 
 Are two sensations more infallible than one ? Admitted 
 that reason rectifies them. But is reason a product of 
 sensation ? Again, what is the instrument of all your sys- 
 tem ? Is it not a perpetual generation, an engendering 
 of ideas from sensations, and whence do you derive the 
 cause? Whence do you derive even the very unity of 
 your system ? 
 
 To the idealistic system makers, it asks whether there 
 are not ideas which the reason unaided could never furnish ? 
 It pushes away from idealism the external world, which 
 to be consistent with itself it must reject, and then asks 
 what it expects to perform when it has no other theatre 
 than its own material, a spirit which can act only upon 
 itself, exhausted in the solitary contemplation of its own 
 forces, and its own laws. 
 
 Thus " reflection, in occupying itself with one of the 
 parts of consciousness, the sensational part, has arrived at 
 sensualism. In occupying itself with the intellectual part 
 and the ideas which pertain to reason, it has arrived at 
 idealism. In returning upon itself, upon its powers and 
 
260 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 their legitimate employment, and upon the two systems 
 which it had already produced, it has arrived at skepticism." 
 
 But skepticism is liable to its abuse, as well as sensual- 
 ism and idealism. There are in all the sensualistic and 
 idealistic systems, some things that are true and some 
 that are false. Skepticism is legitimately employed only 
 when it doubts the false. Its abuse consists in doubting 
 equally the false and the true, and in extending its doubt 
 to all systems whatever. In fact, when it pushes its 
 doctrine to its last possible result, and comes to the posi- 
 tive conclusion that there is no truth, no certainty, it then 
 ceases to combat the dogmatism of other systems, and 
 becomes itself dogmatic, from being a mere negation, it is 
 transformed into a positive system of philosophy quite as 
 exclusive, dogmatic, and extravagant as any other. 
 
 There is one remaining source of philosophical schools 
 and systems, or rather channel, through which flows both 
 thinking and feeling, and that is mysticism. It may also 
 furnish a retreat to those who are mourning over the 
 abuses of sensualism, idealism, or skepticism. 
 
 "We have before alluded to the spontaneous action of 
 the mental powers, as contradistinguished from the exercise 
 of reflective power, and giving rise to the active business 
 men of the world. We now wish to call attention to the 
 original spontaneous movements of the human soul and 
 mind, and which being seized and appropriated by reflec- 
 tion, constitutes mysticism. Prior to all reflection, ^'all 
 our faculties, in their spontaneous energy, enter into 
 exercise ; the reason with the senses, the senses with the 
 reason, free activity with the reason and the senses."^ 
 The experience here invoked is neither that of the reason 
 nor the senses, but the consciousness of a certain number 
 of sentiments and phenomena which occur in the inmost 
 recesses of the religious soul. It appropriates all the 
 phenomena of intuition. When the sentiments and the 
 
 Coumi, 1, 357. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 261 
 
 phenomena flow on with the same spontaniety as that 
 which gave them origin, then all are within the empire of 
 religion ; when the same, as seized and appropriated by 
 reflection, to philosophy. The first gives rise to a kind of 
 inspiration, which is primitive and anterior to all reflec- 
 tion ; the second, to a knowledge of the secret workings 
 of the soul, prior to that period when its own will enters 
 into and modifies them. It is generally found mingling 
 religion with philosophy, and partaking more largely of the 
 former then the latter. 
 
 Of these four channels in which have run the currents of 
 reflection by far the greatest number of the schools and 
 systems of thought are included in the two first mentioned. 
 Each one of these presents a stand point, peculiarly its 
 own, which characterizes all its modes of thinking and re- 
 flecting. That of sensualism is termed the objective, in 
 which reflection applies itself to, and develops the objects 
 of perception. The external universe, nature, all the pro- 
 cesses by which the physical world is enabled to present its 
 many-sided phenomena, become matters of observation, 
 investigation, and ultimately of knowledge. 
 
 That of idealism is termed the subjective, in which 
 reflection turns its eye inward upon its own processes, en- 
 deavors to sound the depths of its own spiritual being ; 
 brings distinctly witbin the empire of consciousness all the 
 phenomena of thought ; and seeks from the elements of the 
 reason, with the aids of the understanding, to deduce the 
 phenomena of the universe. Diflferent schools, as we shall 
 have occasion to see, plant themselves upon each one of 
 these stand points ; and by claiming and seeking to explain 
 all phenomena upon its own peculiar and exclusive princi- 
 ples, leads to the general result of developing, to the 
 greatest possible extent, everything relating to each stand 
 point. 
 
 Down to the commencement of the fifteenth century, 
 the currents of European thought and reflection, so far as 
 philosophy was concerned, were limited to three of these 
 
262 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 channels. Skepticism was the one excluded. The church, 
 which furnished the basis of reflection, would never admit 
 of doubt. Its dogmatizing was positive, wholly precluding 
 the skeptical element. But during the transition period, 
 which carries us through the fifteenth and sixteenth centu- 
 ries to the commencement of modern philosophy, there are 
 schools and systems of thought coursing through each of 
 these channels, although far less regular and clearly defined 
 in their character and outline than those which subse- 
 quently came upon the stage of action. 
 
 The first schools of much importance that arose in the 
 fifteenth century originated in Italy, and were idealistic 
 and sensualistic, the first claiming Plato as its guide, and 
 teacher, the second Aristotle. The representative of the 
 first was Marsilio Ficino, a Florentine, born 1433, died 
 1489. Under the auspices of Cosmo de Medici, he founded 
 the academy in Florence in 1460. His great object was to 
 apply his views of the Platonic system to the defense and 
 explanation of Christianity. He won over John Picus, 
 count of Mirandula, who held in great esteem the cabal- 
 istical writings, almost ascribing to them a divine origin, 
 and considering them necessary to explain the Christian 
 religion. He endeavored to prove the consistency of the 
 Aristotelian and Platonic systems. 
 
 Platonic idealism, thus setting out from the Florentine 
 academy, under Ficino, marched on through the French 
 Ramus, the German Taurellus, the Dalmatian Patrizi, until 
 it culminated in the ITeapolitan, Giordano Bruno, who died 
 its martyr. Pamus, born in Picardy in 1515, and who 
 perished in the massacre of St. Bartholomew, undertook the 
 reform of logic. Aristotle reigned at that time supreme in 
 the University of Paris. He assailed the Aristotelian logic, 
 as being inapplicable to the sciences, the arts, and the 
 aflairs of life. He subjected its methods to severe criti- 
 cism, and produced much excitement in the schools. 
 
 The most remarkable man who is reckoned as belonging 
 to this school is Giordano Bruno, born at IN'ola, in Italy, 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 263 
 
 about the middle of the sixteenth century, and who expired 
 at the stake in Rome the first year of the seventeenth. 
 
 Bruno held that God is one, comprehending in himself 
 all essences, being the substance of all things and also their 
 cause, the soul of the universe, which permeates all things, 
 bestowing upon them their forms and attributes. The end 
 contemplated is the perfection of all things, consisting in 
 the development of the various modifications of which the 
 difierent parts of matter are susceptible. The great first 
 principle is incomprehensible because absolute and uncom- 
 pounded.^ His substance and creative energies being de- 
 termined by his nature. His will a necessity. He is in 
 all things, and all things in him. He pervades the smallest 
 portions of the universe, as well as its infinite expanse, 
 influencing every atom as well as the whole. All things 
 are animated ; all good, because proceeding from a being 
 essentially good. 
 
 The world is also one, infinite, eternal, and imperish- 
 able, the shadow of the supreme principle. The matter 
 which is its element was originally formless, but from its 
 union and identification with the primitive and eternal 
 form, it virtually contains all possible modifications of form. 
 He held to the Pythagorean system of numbers as explaining 
 the manner in which all things are derived from the infinite 
 being as unity. The first principle, by the multiplication 
 of its own unity causes the production of multiplicity, 
 diversity, and variety, and while giving birth to species 
 and individuals, is itself unlimited and unconfined by 
 number, measure, or relation. It remains always one, and 
 in every respect indivisible. By it all things are animated. 
 The universe may be represented as a living being, an 
 immense and infinite animal, in which all things live and 
 act. 
 
 That the world is eternal is shown : 1. From the im- 
 mortal destiny of man. 2. From the infinitude of the 
 
 ^ Tenneman, 286. 
 
264 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Creator's power. 3. From the goodness of the diviue 
 being. 4. From our ideas of infinite space. 5. From the 
 impossibility of finding a central point. The latter he 
 applies to the defense and confirmation of the Copernican 
 system. Our knowledge consists in the perception of 
 similitudes and relations, and we gradually arrive at the 
 idea of unity by combining the multifarious objects pre- 
 sented to our senses. The recognition of unity existing in 
 contraries, is the end of all philosophy. In every indi- 
 vidual the soul assumes a particular form. As it is simple 
 and uncompounded it is immortal, and by extension and 
 contraction it forms and fashions its own body. Birth is 
 the consequence of expansion of the centre. Life consists 
 in the maintenance of a spherical shape, while death is the 
 contraction into the same centre. The highest end of all 
 free agents is the same with that of the divine intellect, 
 viz : the perfection of the whole. 
 
 Thus the system of Bruno resolved itself into a species 
 of pantheism, and by many was misunderstood as a system 
 of atheism. In it may be found some of the roots of the 
 subsequent ones of Spinoza and Schelling. 
 
 But the European mind could not easily relinquish its 
 hold of Aristotle, although the Aristotle of the middle ages, 
 even after having passed through the alembic of the 
 Arabian mind, was considerably difibrent from him of the 
 dispersed Greeks of Constantinople. 
 
 The first school of the new peripatetic sensualism was 
 also of Italian origin, and established in the philosophical 
 school of Bologna and of Padua by Peter Pomponatius, 
 who was born at Mantua in 1462, and died at Bologna in 
 1525. He discussed many questions of interest as free-will, 
 fate, providence, and the question whether the phenomena 
 of nature, which bear the appearance of being marvelous, 
 are produced by the agency of spirits, or by that of the 
 constellations. In reference to the soul and its immortality 
 he maintained that according to the peripatetic doctrine 
 the soul thinks by virtue of itself, but that it never thinks 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 265 
 
 except on condition that there is also in the consciousness 
 an external image. As this image is attached to the sensi- 
 bility, and this to the existence of the body, it would 
 follow that on the dissolution of the body the image also 
 perishes, and with it the thought upon which it was 
 conditioned. Hence, there could be no proof of the soul's 
 immortality. This brought him into conflict with the 
 church, but here he finally took refuge in the doctrine 
 that it was for revealed and not natural religion to establish 
 the soul's immortality. 
 
 The school of Padua produced several celebrated per- 
 sonages. By its doctrine " God was considered not as the 
 cause but the substance of the world.^ Consequently the 
 demonstration of God's existence is no longer made per 
 motum, as among the Alexandrians, but by emanation of 
 light, per lucem." Finally Yanini, a l^eapolitan, born 
 1585, was burned at Toulouse in 1619, on the allegation 
 of atheism. His atheism was gathered from his mode of 
 demonstrating the existence of a God, viz : *' not from the 
 necessity of a first cause, but from the necessity of an infi- 
 nite being, not as cause, but as substance." 
 
 I^ear the commencement of the sixteenth century ap- 
 peared Bernado Telesio, a ]N"eapolitan, born in 1508, and 
 died in 1588, who was a strong advocate for physical sci- 
 ence, admitting God as the creator, but allowing him no 
 intervention in the theory of the world. He maintained 
 that it was necessary to set out from real entities, and not 
 from abstractions. He also combats scholasticism, and re- 
 calls his age to the sentiment of reality, to the study of 
 nature. He asserts the experience of the senses as the 
 only rule of philosophical induction, and thus was the fore- 
 runner of Bacon. 
 
 Another Italian, a Calabrian, Thomas Campanella, born 
 in 1568, died in 1639, undertook the reform of every 
 
 ^ Cousin, II, 262. 
 
 VI] 34 
 
266 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 part of philosophy. He admitted the existence of two 
 sources, and only two, of all knowledge, viz : revelation 
 and nature. All intelligence he reduced to the faculty of 
 feeling, of perceiving the modifications of our own being. 
 Thought is nothing but the generalization of various per- 
 ceptions, and sentiment is their collective whole. Logic he 
 regarded as an intellectual instrument to be appropriated 
 particularly to the study of nature. 
 
 He was the contemporary of Bacon, and like him com- 
 menced with deducing all knowledge from experiment. 
 But instead of pursuing the track he launches off into a 
 vast system of metaphysics, considering all creatures as com- 
 posed of being and non-being ; the former constituted by 
 power, wisdom and love, and having for their object essence, 
 truth and goodness, while non-being has weakness, igno- 
 rance, and hatred. The three primordial qualities of being 
 subsist originally in the supreme being, composing one, yet 
 distinct. In drawing all things from non-being, he trans- 
 fers his ideas into matter under the condition of time, the 
 image of eternity, and upon the basis of space he communi- 
 cates to finite beings the three qualities which become the 
 principles of the universe under the triple law of necessity, 
 of providence, and of harmony. With this, metaphysics, as 
 the centre of all his speculations, are coordinated a physical 
 philosophy, a physiological philosophy, and a social or 
 political philosophy. All these are mere speculations, now 
 of little value. It has been well said, that he recommended 
 experience without practicing it, and showed the necessity 
 of a revolution without consummating it." 
 
 The skepticism of modern times had its origin during 
 the transition period. It had its origin in Montaigne, a 
 Frenchman born in 1533, and died in 1592. "His acute 
 observation of the disagreement existing between all philo- 
 sophical theories produced in him a way of thinking akin 
 to positive skepticism, in matters of philosophy ; and he 
 pronounced the uncertainty of human knowledge and the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 267 
 
 feebleness of human reason to be the grand conclusions 
 to which all his observations had led him. He reposed, 
 however, with sincere faith on the authority of divine 
 revelation.^ The uncertainity ascribed by him to all 
 human science he extended even to matters of practice, 
 without, however, denying the truth of practical obli- 
 gations. Thus was skepticism fairly announced about 
 the middle of the sixteenth century, but its legitimate 
 fruits, as also its abuses, belong to the development of 
 modern philosophy. 
 
 Mysticism had an earlier commencement and a fuller de- 
 velopment during the transition period. It may be regarded 
 rather as a continuation from an earlier period. ItTicholas 
 de Cusa was a German, and born near Treves in 1401, and 
 died in Italy, in 1464. He divided philosophy into two 
 orders, viz : " transcendental science, whose object is the 
 primitive, absolute, indefinite, unity ; and inferior science, 
 which has multiplicity for its object." 
 
 The absolute unity can be known only by its symbols. 
 
 All beings proceeded from a primal unity, like fractions 
 from their unit. 
 
 The phenomena of nature and mathematics have a cor- 
 respondence to each other. And so human reason operates 
 not except by means of ideas of numbers. Such being its 
 constitutive form. 
 
 Humanity aspires after unity or perfection, without de- 
 siring to lose its own proper nature. " Humanity 5^ that by 
 which all men are men, is one, and the movement of my 
 human nature has for its object the attainment of God in 
 man." 
 
 Theophrastas Paracelsus, a Swiss, born in 1493, and who 
 died at Saltzburg, 1541, aimed at rendering himself a 
 reformer in medicine, and took as the basis of his reforma- 
 tion, and of all his physical speculations, theosophy, that 
 
 ^ Tennemmi, 389. 
 
268 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 is, a direct communication of the soul with God hy means 
 of illumination. Thus he is brought within the empire of 
 mysticism. 
 
 He maintained that the soul so far resembles God that it 
 contains in its own depths all truth that man can know. It 
 is full of sciences, hut its notions are veiled or obscured. 
 The truths of science can only be arrived at by retiring 
 within one's self, into the essential intelligence which lies 
 in the depths of his own nature, where the truth is per- 
 ceived, not actively but passively, but by divine illumina- 
 tion, purity of heart being its condition, and prayer its 
 means of attainment. 
 
 The plan of creation is one, and the universe is made 
 after the same model as man. All parts of the universe 
 are full of souls, who are not gifted with intelligence, man 
 only being created in the image of God. Souls are enve- 
 loped in matter, a dark and dead thing. Between souls 
 and matter or bodies, exists the spirit, a sort of fluid, the 
 physical means of the universal life. Thus is constituted 
 his trinity of nature, the soul, the fluid, the body, a coun- 
 terpart, in some respects, of the divine trinity. 
 
 Man contains in himself three principles, three worlds, 
 three heavens. 1. The soul, by which he communicates 
 with God, or the archetypal world. 2. The material 
 body, which puts him in connection with the element- 
 ary world. 3. The spiritual body, which, being formed 
 of etherial fluid, is in perpetual communication with the 
 angelic, astral world. 
 
 Thus the triple nature of man and of the world being 
 identical, there exists in man a force of attraction by which 
 he aspires to the life of the world. This attraction is 
 developed: 1. In a magnetic power, which draws from the 
 elements the nourishment of his flesh and blood.^ 2. In 
 a superior magnetism, which attracts the spiritual fluid, the 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 11, 13. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 269 
 
 principle of sensations and of worldly wisdom. 3. The 
 whole of this is subordinated to the aspiration by which the 
 soul is nourished from God. 
 
 But he also held that while man attracts all the forces of 
 nature he improves them in himself, and recalls them all 
 to God, the universal centre. Thus, according to his phi- 
 losophy, the world is a flux and reflux of the divine life by 
 means of man. 
 
 J. Baptist Van Helmont, born at Brussels 1577, died at 
 Vienna 1644, attached himself to the doctrines of Para- 
 celsus, deriving all knowledge from direct and immediate 
 revelation. He attacked the processes of logic, claiming 
 that the knowledge of the relation which exists between the 
 terms of a syllogism,^ exists in our mind prior to the con- 
 clusion, and that logic is therefore nothing more than a 
 means of recapitulating anterior notions, which can have 
 no other use than to facilitate the exposition of ideas 
 on the part of a speaker, and the recollection of them 
 on that of the hearer. The conclusion he drew from 
 this was that all true science was independent of demon- 
 stration, and can be acquired only by pure intuition. 
 The internal cause of phenomena he called archeus, and 
 held that it consisted in the union of spirit, of the vital 
 breath, with the seminal image, or internal type of each 
 being. 
 
 The latest, and perhaps the most perfect representative 
 of the mysticism of this period, is to be found in Jacob 
 Bobme, a poor shoemaker of Goilitz, born in 1575, and 
 who died in 1624. He is called the Teutonic philosopher. 
 The fundamental points of his doctrines are : " 1. The 
 impossibility of arriving at truth by any other process 
 than illumination. 2. A theory of the creation. 3. The 
 relations of man to God. 4. The essential identity 
 of the soul and of God, and the determination of their 
 
 ' History of Philosopliy, ii, 12. 
 
270 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 differeuce as to form. 5. The origin of evil. 6. The 
 reintegration of the soul. 7. A symbolical exposition of 
 Christianity." 
 
 Thus we are brought to the close of the transition period, 
 the termination of the sixteenth century. "We have seen 
 the four great channels into which philosophy runs, more 
 properly, perhaps, and certainly more conveniently, denomi- 
 nated the four great principles lying at the foundation of 
 all reflection, sensualism, idealism, skepticism and mys- 
 ticism, partially but very incompletely developed. The 
 following are their distribution among the nationalities of 
 Europe : 
 
 The two first mentioned originated in Italy, and passed 
 thence into the other countries of Europe.^ 
 
 Skepticism was wholly confined to France. 
 
 Mysticism, although derived from an Italian source, yet 
 spread principally in G-ermany, claiming stronger affinities 
 with the elements of the Teutonic mind. 
 
 Modern Philosophy — Bacon. 
 
 Modern philosophy commences with the seventeenth cen- 
 tury. The period had arrived in the history of the world's 
 thinking at which reflection could commence upon system, 
 and by means of successive schools and systems of thought, 
 carry out and exhibit consecutively, those forms, phases 
 and processes which mark its advancement, and proclaim 
 the dificrent stages in its course of development. It had 
 traveled a long way to reach this period. To say nothing 
 of its sojourn among the oriental nations, it had occupied 
 the Greek mind for twelve centuries, extending from 
 Thales and Pythagoras, to the closing of the schools at 
 Athens, by Justinian. It had demanded of the mingled 
 races of Italy, the Teutonic and Celtic combinations of 
 
 Cousin^ ih '73- 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 271 
 
 France, and the purer Teutonism of Germany and Eng- 
 land, the recognition of its claims, and the exercise of its 
 powers, for eight centuries, from the commencement of 
 the ninth to that of the seventeenth. It had served a long 
 apprenticeship with theology; and finally, its term being 
 accomplished, it had separated from it, and proclaimed 
 its independence. It had reproduced in the modern Euro- 
 pean mind, with such modifications as the new elements 
 in its composition demanded, many of the early systems 
 and forms of thought, that had stirred the brains of the 
 Grecian philosophers. 
 
 And now it is about to make its entrance upon the 
 seventeenth century. The demands of the age upon it 
 are heavy and imperative. Industry and enterprise have 
 been at work, opening up new avenues and new worlds to 
 man's restless spirit. Physical science is urging its claims 
 and making its discoveries. Galileo had pointed his 
 telescope to the stars; Copernicus discovered the true 
 solar system ; and Kepler, the laws of planetary motion. 
 Problems of profound and practical importance were 
 pressing for solution. One great question was moving in 
 the minds of men, and that related to the origin and the 
 certainty of knowledge. Investigations were also being 
 made as to the ultimate grounds of moral right, and of 
 moral obligation. From this time onward, we may expect 
 order, and system, and method to preside over the work- 
 ings of reflection. 
 
 Modern philosophy has been so rich -a field of investiga- 
 tion that the laborers in it have been numerous. We can, 
 of course, notice only those who are the most prominent, 
 who are themselves the authors of systems, or whose 
 labors have been productive in the development of par- 
 ticular schools. 
 
 Again, there are two plans or principles upon which to 
 exhibit modern philosophy; the one the most usually 
 adopted, is the chronological plan or principle, to detail 
 
272 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the schools and systems as they succeed each other in the 
 order of time. The other, not hitherto fully attempted, is 
 to follow out the schools and systems in the natural order 
 of their succession, irrespective of time. To be governed 
 by the idea of development. To trace out a principle, 
 system, or school, including all its principal developments, 
 down to the present time. 
 
 The latter is alone calculated to render a consecutive 
 idea of the course of philosophy. It shows how one system, 
 or school, occasions or produces another, and into what the 
 more comprehensive finally resolve themselves. This 
 mode of treatment has been only possible when applied to 
 the modern philosophy. ^Neither the ancient nor that of 
 the middle ages, could be brought within any such plan or 
 principle. 
 
 It will be apparent from this exhibition that although 
 the Italian mind was greatly instrumental in giving the 
 impulse to philosophy during the transition period includ- 
 ing the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, yet that it has 
 done comparatively little in aiding to develop modern 
 philosophy. The contributions to this latter have come 
 almost wholly from the working of the English, French, 
 Scottish and German mind. Of these the first may be 
 termed empirical in its tendencies; the second, materialis- 
 tic; the third, skeptical and common sense; and the fourth, 
 transcendental. It required each one of these to furnish 
 its entire contribution in order that the development of 
 philosophy might be full and complete. 
 
 E'ear the commencement of the seventeenth century 
 appear, the one in England, the other in France, two philo- 
 sophies; the one empirical, having an objective stand 
 point, and its root in sensualism; the other, rationalistic, 
 with a subjective stand point, and having its root in ideal- 
 ism. It is the development of these two philosophies, 
 together with the revolts, reactions, and refuges, which 
 their ultimate results have compelled, which we now pro- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 273 
 
 ceed to investigate. We shall do so in the order exhibited 
 in the following programme : 
 
 Comte 
 Positivism . ' . 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 Cousin 
 
 
 
 
 ■ . Eclecticism 
 
 
 
 Jacobi _ . 
 
 ...•••::■■■ 
 
 ■ • • . . 
 
 Hegel 
 
 
 Mysticism ' . 
 
 • 
 
 
 • . Scbelling 
 Fichte 
 
 
 Herbart . ' 
 
 • 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 Realism * ' 
 
 Ka 
 
 at 
 
 
 
 
 Critical Philosopht 
 
 
 
 ■ DeTracy 
 
 German School 
 
 
 u - 
 
 1 
 
 Cabanis 
 Holbach 
 Helvetius 
 Condillac 
 
 Reid, Stewart, Hamilton 
 Common Sense 
 Scottish School 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 Darwin 
 
 Berkley Hume 
 
 
 
 . Hartley 
 
 Skepticism Skepticism 
 Wolf 
 
 Leibnitz 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 MON. 
 
 4.D0L0GT 
 
 
 Hobbes 
 
 Locke Spinoza 
 
 Malebranche 
 
 Bacon 
 Empirical Philosophy 
 
 Objective Standi Point 
 Sensualism 
 
 Descartes 
 Rationalistic Philosophy 
 
 Subjective Stand Point 
 Idealism 
 
 The first great root of this philosophical tree is the em- 
 pirical PHILOSOPHY. 
 VI] 35 
 
274 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 By empirical I mean experimental, the results of 
 reflective and active experience commenced and carried 
 out in accordance with, the laws of thought. 
 
 By the objective stand point, I mean that this empiricism 
 is directed not to the subject that thinks, but to the objects 
 of sense that constitute the external universe, together 
 with the laws by which it is governed. 
 
 By SENSUALISM is meant that philosophy that seeks and 
 finds in the senses alone the sources of all ideas, and of 
 all knowledge. 
 
 This philosophy in modern time has its first and great 
 representative in Bacon. 
 
 Francis Bacon, an English lawyer and lord chancellor 
 under James I, was born in London in 1561, and died in 
 1626. 
 
 Bacon was no metaphysician. He originated no system 
 of philosophy. But he did a method of philosophizing. 
 To understand clearly the difference between him and Des- 
 cartes, the author of the rationalistic system,. it may be 
 well to recall to mind that every course of thought, which 
 is logical in itself, is determined by two points, viz : that 
 from which it proceeds, and that to which it tends ; the first 
 being the starting point, the last the goal. The first marks 
 the rationalistic, the last the sensualistic philosophy. In 
 the first, thought, mind, constitutes the premiss, and then 
 the course of ideas is but a series of conclusions. In the 
 second, thought is the goal, and with respect to that all 
 the premises are framed. 
 
 The method of each is different. In the first, the 
 guiding point is an axiom, or fundamental proposition, 
 in the second, a problem. The axiom has deductions; 
 the problem solutions.^ The first is the synthetic, the 
 second, the analytic method. Thus is indicated the 
 mental working which lies at the foundation of the two 
 philosophies. 
 
 ^Fischer, 39,40,41. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 275 
 
 That of Bacon was the analytic. He first apprehended 
 the problem. The goal was in the distance. He busied 
 himself principally about the means of solution. The great 
 object or goal of all his wishes and aspirations was, so to 
 extend the intellectual world that it may be able to com- 
 prehend the material, such as the latter had become in his 
 day.^ In his view, the dominion of man over things was 
 the highest end the human mind could propose to itself. 
 Hence the ultimate purpose of his philosophy was the 
 foundation and augmentation of human dominion, and to 
 his mind the nearest means to that end are supplied by 
 that kind of culture which converts physical forces into 
 instruments fitted for man. And it was by opening the 
 widest prospects into the realm of science, and by indicat- 
 ing goals and setting up problems in every direction, that 
 he proposed, not to unfold a system, but to set free a spirit 
 of investigation, invention, and discovery, which, under 
 the processes he indicated, might pursue its course without 
 end or limit.^ 
 
 Bacon has incorporated much of his philosophy in the 
 six following aphorisms : 
 
 1. Man, the minister and interpreter of nature, can act 
 and understand in as far as he has, either in fact or in 
 thought, observed the order of nature ; no more he can 
 neither know nor do. 
 
 2. The real cause and root of almost all the evils in sci- 
 ence is this: that, falsely magnifying and extolling the 
 powers of the mind, we seek not its real helps. 
 
 3. There are two ways of searching after and disco- 
 vering truth : the one, from sense and particulars, rises 
 directly to the most general axioms, and resting upon 
 those principles, and their unshaken truth, finds out 
 intermediate axioms, and this is the method in use; but 
 the other raises axioms from sense and particulars by 
 a continual and gradual ascent, till at last it arrives at 
 
 Fisclier, 46. ' Idem, 63. 
 
276 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the most general axioms, which is the true way, but 
 hitherto untried. 
 
 4. The understanding, when left to itself, takes the first 
 of these ways ; for the mind delights in springing up to 
 the most general axioms, that it may find rest ; but after 
 a short stay there, it disdains experience, and these mis- 
 chiefs are at length increased by logic, for the ostentation 
 of disputes. 
 
 5. The natural human reasoning we, for the sake of 
 clearness, call the anticipation of nature, as being a rash 
 and hasty thing ; and the reason duly exercised upon objects 
 we call the interpretation of nature. 
 
 6. It is false to assert that human sense is the measure of 
 things, since all perceptions, both of sense and mind, are with 
 relation to man, and not with relation to the universe ; but 
 the human understanding is like an unequal mirror to the 
 rays of things, which, mixing its own nature with the nature 
 of things, distorts and perverts them. 
 
 In addition, he says, relating to the nature and character 
 of the commencement of his method : " The only remain- 
 ing hope and salvation is to begin over again the whole 
 task of the mind so that from the very first, the mind may 
 not be trusted to itself, but continually directed." 
 
 Thus a wise and judicious skepticism lay at the founda- 
 tion of the Baconian philosophy, purifying, supporting, 
 and sustaining it. And hereafter we shall see the same 
 skepticism in its abuse, in the hands of Berkley, attacking 
 and destroying that external nature which lay at its 
 foundation. 
 
 In the exercise of this skepticism. Bacon's first object in 
 his Novum Organum was to point out the causes that had 
 retarded and vitiated science. These he terms idols, and 
 he enumerates four kinds, viz : 
 
 Idols of the tribe. 
 
 Idols of the den. 
 
 Idols of the forum. 
 
 Idols of the theatre. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 277 
 
 Idols of the tribe are those- common to all men. The 
 propensity prompting to the spirit of system, which 
 seeks to find a greater degree of order, simplicity, and 
 regularity than is actually indicated by observation, is an 
 illustration. 
 
 Idols of the den spring from the peculiar character of 
 the individual. Some men, for instance, are best adapted 
 to mark the differences of things, others to catch at re- 
 semblances. 
 
 Idols of the forum are those which arise out of the inter- 
 course of society, and from the use of language. Men 
 believe that their thoughts govern their words. But it 
 also happens that their words frequently govern their 
 thoughts. 
 
 Idols of the theatre are the deceptions which have arisen 
 from the dogmas of different schools. These, unlike the 
 others, are of labored acquisition. Thus these different 
 idols are the *' peculiarities of human nature and of indi- 
 viduals, the conventionalities of social intercourse, and 
 the authorities confirmed by history." 
 
 The great and only object of the Baconian philosophy 
 was fruit, productive results. Hence Bacon confined 
 himself mainly to the realm of physics. His philosophy 
 had its adaptations accordingly. Hence he rejected all 
 consideration of final causes as appertaining to metaphysics, 
 and as belonging more to the nature of man than to that 
 of the universe. They had their origin in reasoning, and 
 not in experience. He, therefore, confined himself to effi- 
 cient, physical causes. 
 
 The first work of experience is the observa-tion and 
 collection of facts and phenomena, together with all their 
 modifications and varieties. These are the capital of 
 science, the description of nature, natural history. 
 
 The three main problems proposed by Bacon were : 1. 
 By what means does natural history become natural 
 science ? 2. By what means does the description of nature 
 become the interpretation of nature ? 3. In more general 
 
278 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION, 
 
 terms, by what means does ordinary experience become 
 scientific experience ? 
 
 Experience proceeds from the facts of nature, and 
 directs itself to their causes. " To know truly," says 
 Bacon, " is to know from causes." Having thus got the 
 capital, the description, the natural history, the next 
 question is now to find the essential conditions. And 
 this question is answered by setting aside whatever is 
 nonessential, or contingent. The residue will consist 
 of those which are essential and true. The discovery 
 of contingencies, and the separation of them from the 
 other data, is one of the great purposes and aims of the 
 Baconian experience. 
 
 The mode of doing this is by a comparison of a number 
 of similar instances. This may be two-fold : 1. A com- 
 parison of several instances in which the same phenomena 
 occurs under various conditions. 2. With these instances 
 compare others, where, under similar conditions, the same 
 phenomenon does not occur. "Thus, by accurate and 
 frequent comparison, nonessential conditions are detected, 
 and by their exclusion, the essential conditions are retained. 
 Thus experience proceeds from fact to fact, till it arrives 
 at a law. It confirms fact by experiment ; discovers, by a 
 fitting comparison of facts, the universal law, principle, or 
 axiom, by which the operation of nature is guided. Thus, 
 experience ascends from the experiment to the axiom. This 
 is the method of induction." 
 
 Before a conclusion can be safely arrived at by expe- 
 rience it must be rendered clear that there are no negative 
 instances. To these, Bacon attaches the highest import- 
 ance. They stand as a security against too credulous 
 reliance on individual experience. They are with him the 
 criterion of empirical truth. Their occurrence destroys 
 any afl3.rmative conclusion. With him, it is common ex- 
 perience that simply collects ; but it is critical experience 
 that collects by sifting, and is thus both experimental and 
 intellectual, uniting reason with experience. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 279 
 
 One great problem proposed by Bacon to his age was 
 the subjection of science to the spirit of invention, and the 
 liberation of this spirit from the chance by which human 
 inventions had previously been governed.^ Chance was to 
 give place to design. Invention is the parent of discovery, 
 and that was the great demand of the Baconian age. 
 
 Another problem that presented itself to the mind of 
 Bacon was : How can knowledge attained by the way of 
 experience, become invention ? Answer, By the applica- 
 tion of the discovered laws. If all the forces by which 
 lightning is guided and attracted are known, the invention 
 of the lightning rod becomes an easy matter. 
 
 Thus the Baconian induction proceeds from experiment 
 to axiom. But that, once attained, becomes a subject 
 matter upon which deduction acts, taking the inverse 
 course, and proceeding from axiom to experiment. The 
 first is the method of interpretation, the last that of appli- 
 cation. The first end with the discovery of a law, the last 
 with an invention. 
 
 There occurs this difficulty with the Baconian method. 
 A single negative instance, we have seen, destroys a con- 
 clusion. Certainty, therefore, requires the impossibility of 
 a negative instance, the affirmative proof that there are none. 
 This clearly can never be furnished by experience, for 
 " nature is richer than experience." This brings us to the 
 prerogative instances of Bacon. These are certain cases, 
 or instances, one of which is equal in value to a series of 
 others. They are pregnant instances, from which ^much 
 may be inferred by an accelerated induction, by a rapid 
 separation of the contingent from the necessary. It is 
 where a single observation may save many others. Thus, 
 for instance, if the question is of specific gravity, the mere 
 fact that quicksilver is so much heavier than gold, is 
 sufficient to show that the specific gravity of a body is 
 regulated by its mass, and not by the cohesion of its 
 
 Fischer, 47. 
 
280 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 parts. Bacon has enumerated twenty-seven of these pre- 
 rogative instances. 
 
 Another instance made use of by Bacon is analogy. 
 This assumes the unity, the entirety, of nature, a general- 
 ization gathered from a constantly ascending induction. 
 Granting the truth of this general fact, analogies are beau- 
 tifally expressed as the " first chords, that we hear of 
 harmony of the universe." " They are," says Bacon, " the 
 first and truest steps towards the union of nature. They 
 do not at once establish an axiom, but only indicate and 
 observe a certain conformity of bodies to each other. But 
 although they do not conduce much to the discovery of 
 general laws, which are called by Bacon forms, they are, 
 nevertheless, of great service in disclosing the fabrication 
 of parts of the universe, and practice a sort of anatomy 
 upon its members. Thence they sometimes lead us, as if 
 by hand, to sublime and noble axioms, especially those that 
 relate to the configuration of the world rather than to 
 simple natures and forms." 
 
 Thus it was by the aid of analogy that induction itself 
 was invoked to bring unity into natural science, and by 
 such means to discover that spiritual connection of things 
 that can never be apprehended through a mere description 
 of parts, for it is by analogy that nature can be united, 
 and the foundations of science laid.^ 
 
 But no other than essential resemblances should be ad- 
 mitted, and hence Bacon insists that in all these a severe 
 and rigid caution be observed, and none others accepted 
 as similar and proportionate instances except those that 
 denote natural resemblances, that is, real and substantial, 
 not merely casual and superficial. 
 
 The analogies suggested by Bacon are far-seeing and 
 comprehensive, stretching through organic and inorganic 
 nature. The idea of an analogy pervading all natural 
 phenomena is clearly before his mind, and thus he sought 
 
 Fischer, ISO. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 281 
 
 what the common forms of indaction could not alone have 
 discovered, the unity of nature as manifested in the affinity 
 of all things. 
 
 Such was the method of Bacon, and the result of his 
 philosophy and the logical order of its ideas is thus admira- 
 bly and comprehensively stated by Fischer : ^ 
 
 '^ 1. Science should serve man by being useful to him. 
 Its use consists in inventions; the object of which is the 
 dominion of the human race. 
 
 " 2. Science can only become inventive through an exact 
 knowledge of things, and this is only to be obtained by 
 an interpretation of nature. 
 
 " 3. A correct interpretation of nature is only possible 
 through pure and methodical experience. Experience is 
 pure when it does not judge according to idols and human 
 analogies, when it does not anthropomorphize things, when 
 it is ndere experimentalizing perception. Experience is 
 methodical as true induction. Induction is true when, by 
 an accurate and critical comparison, it infers laws from a 
 number of particular instances. Comparison is critical 
 when it opposes negative to positive instances. Moreover, 
 the process of inductive reasoning is accelerated by the 
 investigation of prerogative instances. Experience, thus 
 disciplined, avoids from first to last all uncertain and pre- 
 mature hypotheses.'^ 
 
 The merit of Bacon consists not alone in being the 
 founder of methods, in simply pointing out the way. He 
 was also the expositor of his methods. He traveled: along 
 the way he had pointed out so far as to initiate others, and 
 to enable them to make a further progress. 
 
 The labors of Bacon were by no means limited to the 
 suggestion and exposition of his method. He also at- 
 tempted an arrangement and classification of all the kinds, 
 varieties, and departments of knowledge. The principle 
 lying at the foundation of his division was psychological. 
 
 ^ Fischer, 140. 
 
 VI] 36 
 
2S2 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 He would divide the total intellectual image of the world 
 into so many parts as there were faculties in the human 
 mind to copy and reproduce it.^ These faculties were 
 memory, imagination, and reason. There must, therefore, 
 be a copy of the world referable to memory, or experience; 
 another to imagination, and another to reason. The 
 purely empirical, or experience copy, is history ; the ima- 
 ginary, poetry; the rational, science. 
 
 All the possible objects of human knowledge are God,^ 
 nature, and our internal essence. Of these, our knowledge 
 of nature is immediate, that of God is derived through 
 nature, and that of ourselves through reflection. The great 
 fundamental thought that appears to have lain at the 
 foundation of his philosophy, and that impelled him to 
 seek analogies everywhere was, that the aggregate of 
 things, from the humblest of creatures to the deity himself 
 forms a regular ascending scale.^ 
 
 The true distinction between physics and metaphysics, 
 he held to be, that the first was employed to investigate 
 the material of things, and their efficient forces ; ^ the 
 latter, the forms of things and their fi.tness to an end. 
 Thus, they contemplate different sides of the same nature ; 
 the former, in matter and force ; the latter, form and pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Bacon often speaks of forms, and by these he means 
 permanent causes. Those being efficient, he elevates into 
 the form of universality. That, for instance, which, in 
 every case, produces heat, is called by him, the form of 
 heat. Thus, his forms are the last true differences to 
 which the conditions of natural phenomena are reduci- 
 ble ; the factors absolutely necessary for the qualities of 
 bodies. 
 
 To physics. Bacon assigns efficient causes ; to metaphy- 
 sics, final.^ The former show a nature conformed to laws; 
 the latter, to ends. These, he insists, should never be 
 
 ^ Fischer, 2^4:. "" Idem, 2m. "^ Idem, 250. ^ Idem, 255. 'Idem, 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 283 
 
 mingled together. " The excursious," he remarks, " of 
 fiaal causes into the limits of physical causes, hath bred a 
 vastness and soHtude in that track." He would purify 
 physics, by banishing final causes to the region of meta- 
 physics. 
 
 The soul was supposed by Bacon to be a corporeal sub- 
 stance, having its local seat in the brain, and invisible, on 
 account of its subtilty.^ But the mind, he declared in- 
 comprehensible, transferring the idea of it from the scien- 
 tific sphere into that of religion. Thus, referring the soul 
 to the body, and the mind to the deity, he fell necessarily 
 into a dualism, which, once forced upon the mind, is so 
 difficult to get rid of. 
 
 Bacon had admitted, what must be obvious to every 
 inquirer, that his philosophy was incapable of explaining 
 the mind.^ He had, therefore, but one of two possible 
 courses before him, viz : to refer it to the deity, and thus 
 create a dualism, without any possible mode of connecting 
 the two together; or to declare it a corporeal substance, 
 and thus merge it all in materialism. The former was 
 preferred by Bacon ; the latter, we shall see, by some of 
 those who succeeded and more fully developed his philo- 
 sophy in some of its phases. 
 
 Bacon made metaphysics the stepping stone to natural 
 theology ; for he assigned final causes to metaphysics, and 
 the perception of these in nature shows us a world regu- 
 lated for certain ends, and such a world cannot be conceived 
 without a regulating intelligence. I^atural theology^, in his 
 view, is the image of the deity as the creative regulator of 
 the world, and faith in such a deity is a scientific necessity. 
 
 But a deity thus proclaimed by the course of nature 
 must necessarily be limited by it, and must, therefore, 
 belong to natural philosophy. It is clear that as the 
 course of nature only is here taken, that can reveal no- 
 thing of the supernatural essence of the deity, or of his 
 
 Fischer, %n. Udein, 210. 
 
284 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 decrees for the benefit of man. As the kingdom of grace, 
 the realm of revealed religion lies out of nature ; it is 
 obvious there can be no pathway leading from one to the 
 other; and hence as there was between mind and body, 
 so also between deity and the world there was, according 
 to Bacon, a necessary dualism. 
 
 The dualism thus forced upon the Baconian philosophy 
 excludes all intercommunication and reciprocal influence 
 between religion and philosophy. A blind unquestioning 
 faith belongs to the one ; reason with all its processes to 
 the other. Eeligious faith stands beyond science, rests 
 upon a basis totally dififerent, must be unconditional, with- 
 out rational ground, or logical aid, and hence totally a 
 blind faith. 
 
 Thus the Baconian philosophy was as little capable of 
 explaining religion as the human mind. Religion is the 
 connection between the divine and the human mind. 
 For the apprehension of this connection it possessed neither 
 the comprehension nor the required organs. If both deity 
 and mind were inexplicable upon its principles, how could 
 it understand the relation between them. All its knowledge 
 came through the medium of experimentalizing experience, 
 and how could that possibly fathom either the human or 
 divine mind. True to itself, it admitted, as it could not do 
 otherwise, that the mind, God and religion, were to it 
 unfathomable objects. It had, therefore, no choice but 
 either to reject or acknowledge, and in either case uncon- 
 ditionally, and without a reason. Bacon's rejection of all 
 final causes in the domain of physics would naturally have 
 led to its rejection, although it may well be doubted whether 
 a more enlarged and liberalized empiricism would not be 
 able to discover and even demonstrate ends in the creation, 
 final purposes to which all the physical arrangements were 
 made subservient. 
 
 It will be readily seen, therefore, that the Baconian 
 philosophy carried along with it its own recommendation 
 and condemnation. It was emphatically the philosophy de- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 285 
 
 mandecl by its age. The yearning of human thonght was 
 then towards discovery ; development of nature's physical 
 resources through the agency of mind. Into the midst of 
 it came the method of Bacon, with its levers and screws, 
 and various modes of experimentalizing experience, having 
 one persistent aim, the extorting from nature the secrets 
 of her operations, and through them the controlling of 
 herself. 
 
 It was eminently successful. It gave to physical sci- 
 ence a new impulse. It offered to the pent-up faculties 
 of mind a new field of effort, a new course and direction 
 in which to expend their energies. The offer was gladly 
 accepted. Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, 
 and l^ewton the laws of gravitation. In process of time 
 steam opened up its resources, and electricity became a 
 willing worker in the affairs of men. It would not per- 
 haps be too much to say that the mighty advancements of 
 physical science ; the profound knowledge of nature's pro- 
 cesses, which the last two centuries have yielded up ; the 
 almost unquestioned command attained by man over the 
 forces of nature, and by which he has been enabled so 
 rapidly and thoroughly to develop her physical resources; 
 are all mainly owing to the use and successful employment 
 of the Baconian methods of philosophy. The progress of 
 this philosophy was by successive generalizations, and 
 newly discovered facts and phenomena. As soon as a 
 sufficient number of the latter came to be known, a gene- 
 ralization broad enough to cover them was sought-out and 
 deemed satisfactory. In the progress of knowledge, other 
 facts and phenomena would naturally present themselves, 
 which not being at the time known, the preceding general- 
 izations would be inadequate to explain. This would 
 demand wider generalizations. These, in their turn, would 
 be furnished, and thus all obstacles being cleared away, 
 another advance onward would be made until another 
 barrier would be reached, and other new and unexplained 
 facts and phenomena would telegraph back, requiring 
 
286 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 generalizations still more comprehensive and sweeping for 
 their solution. And thus in successive oscillations between 
 the two would swing the mighty pendulum that marks 
 out the mind's progress on the dial plate of centuries. 
 
 At the same time it must now be admitted that this 
 philosophy in its principle and scope was narrow, limited, 
 partial, unilateral. It ignored mind, and was confined to 
 matter. It groveled, and upon its own principles, as ex- 
 pounded by Bacon, forever must, within the realm of 
 physics. But its denial of final causes, as embraced within 
 the sphere of its method, it eficctually cut off all avenue to 
 any other realm. To man, as a being of this world, as 
 the subject merely of physical enjoyments, as having only 
 to do with the blind forces of nature, it offered all that was 
 desirable. But to man who could entertain and busy 
 himself with the problems of life and death and destiny, 
 whose thoughts would seek to apprehend God and his 
 eternity, who felt that his spiritual nature had relations 
 reaching far beyond the domain of physical science, it 
 could offer nothing. 
 
 But while thus sensible of its deficiencies, we should 
 recognize the truth, that God has all time at his disposal ; 
 that mind cannot at once sound all the depths of its reflec- 
 tion ; that these depths must be opened up successively ; 
 and that every great system of thought should appear 
 partial, limited, and conditioned, in order that all its 
 resources, and contained treasures, may be all brought out 
 and fully developed. 
 
 The Baconian philosophy only commences with Bacon. 
 Although so limited in its principle and scope, yet his 
 genius could develop but a single phase of it. That phase 
 related to his method. That has stood, and will continue 
 to, the test of ages. But there lay within the principle he 
 assumed, as the basis of his method, germs of thought, 
 ideas, doctrinal results and consequences^ that he probably 
 never dreamed of. It is thus demonstrated, that ^' every 
 body is wiser than any body," and that the race carries 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 287 
 
 on from age to age, its successive stages of thiDking, until 
 it completes in the end, its great philosophical systems. 
 
 The sensualistic philosophy, having established through 
 Bacon, its methods, next passes through the alembics of 
 Hobbes and Locke, developing through the first its morals 
 and politics ; and through the latter, its metaphysics. Not 
 yet by any means exhausted, it then takes two directions, 
 the one running off through Hartley, Darwin, Condillac, 
 and the other French philosophers, into utter hopeless mate- 
 rialism ; the other, through Berkley, into the annihilation 
 of all sensuous objects, the material world, through skep- 
 ticism. l!Tot yet having exhausted all its resources, we 
 shall find it again reappearing, near the middle of the 
 nineteenth centuy, under a different garb, and a different 
 name, viz : the positivism of Auguste Comte. 
 
 JResults of the Baconian Philosophy — Hobbes, Locke. 
 
 Thomas Hobbes, the contemporary and friend of Bacon, 
 was born at Malmesbury, England, in 1588, and died in 
 1679. Hobbes was a clear, strong writer. His general 
 doctrine may be summed up as that of social materialism. 
 
 Bacon had declared physics the mother of the sciences. 
 On this foundation not only were astronomy, optics, 
 mechanics, etc., to be renovated, but also morals, politics 
 and logic. But Bacon himself left morals undeveloped, and 
 politics untouched. Hence the necessity of Hobbes. 
 
 The moral world was to be explained on nat^aralistic 
 principles, that is,^ the natural state of man being ascer- 
 tained, how does the moral order of things result from it? 
 This is the problem for Hobbes to solve in the spirit of the 
 Baconian philosophy. 
 
 The natural state of man, according to Hobbes, is a war 
 of all against all, because the human forces, by their very 
 nature, are opposed in hostilit}^ to each other. This war 
 
 Fischer, 417. 
 
288 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 perils the safety of all, and hence contravenes that law of 
 nature by which every individual seeks safety, life, and en- 
 joyment. On the strength of this law peace results, but it 
 results from a contract, out of which the state is derived. 
 All agree to abandon their natural rights, or rather to 
 transfer them to a third party, the state. The contract is 
 formed by this reciprocal transfer of rights, and constitutes 
 the essence of the state in human society. The state thus 
 originates from the law of necessity, and is armed with all 
 the rights and powers of the individual members who 
 compose it. All the conditions required are natural laws, 
 the sum total of which constitutes, according to Hobbes, the 
 only real morality.^ 
 
 The contract once made is irrevocable. It holds the 
 same position in politics that an axiom does in science. 
 The state wields absolute sway ; as it unites all rights and 
 powers within itself. Its power is sole, unlimited, indivisi- 
 ble. It rules alone, and is alone free. In its presence all 
 are subjects, who are bound to obey. It is and must be, 
 absolute. 
 
 This power may be lodged with one person or many. 
 The form may be monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic, 
 but the power of the state must, in all cases, be absolute 
 and indivisible. As a means of conducing to this, the legis- 
 lative must not be separated from the governing power, 
 nor the judicial from the other two. All the powers are 
 united in a single hand, and are best and most naturally 
 united in a single person. An absolute monarchy is thus 
 the most perfect form of government. The king is the 
 embodied law, and no moral conscience or religious free- 
 dom are to prevail against him. The state he calls the 
 " mortal God," the " great leviathan " which recklessly 
 swallows up individuals. 
 
 Eeligion and morality, according to Hobbes, are only 
 rendered possible through the state, for it is by the state 
 
 ^ Fischer, 426. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 289 
 
 that thej are first made. Religious faith is nothing more 
 than political obedience, unconditional, cold and external. 
 It is a state edict, a royal command. 
 
 He resolves all good and evil into selfishness. The ob- 
 ject of a selfish desire is, according to Hobbes, termed 
 good ; that of a selfish aversion, bad. We seek what is 
 useful and avoid what is hurtful to ourselves. Private 
 interest is the sole arbiter as to what is good, and what is 
 bad. I^othing is in itself good or bad, beautiful or ugly. 
 There is no such thing as natural morality. 
 
 The state, by its laws, declares what is good and bad for 
 all.^ It marks the distinctions between actions that are 
 just and those that are unjust. It also determines what are 
 to be the objects of belief, what deity is to be worshiped 
 and in what form. Thus the law of the state really con- 
 stitutes both morality and religion. " The public law," 
 says Hobbes, " is the citizen's only conscience." 
 
 All generic ideas, according to him, are mere names and 
 words, and these are nothing but conventional expedients 
 for mutual intercourse. " Words," says he, " are wise men's 
 counters.^ They do but reckon by them. But they are 
 the money of fools, that value them by the authority of an 
 Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas Aquinas." 
 
 Hobbes also inquired into the origin of our knowledge, 
 and here he takes the same instrument and applies it to the 
 limitation of knowledge, which was applied by Bacon to 
 that of science, viz : experience. Here he is the precursor 
 of materialism. 
 
 ''Concerning thoughts of man," says Hobbes, "I will 
 consider them first singly, and afterwards in a train or 
 dependence upon one another. Singly they are every one 
 a representation or appearance of some quality or accident 
 of a body without us, which is commonly called an object, 
 which object worketh on the eyes, ears, and other parts 
 
 'Fischer, 4^^. ^ Idem, ^11. 
 VI] 37 
 
290 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 of a man's body, and by diversity of working, produceth 
 diversity of appearance. The original of them all is that 
 which we call sense, for there is no conception in a man's 
 mind which hath not at first, totally or by parts, been be- 
 gotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are derived 
 from that original." 
 
 And again, "when a man thinketh on anything whatso- 
 ever, his next thought after that is not altogether so casual 
 as it seems to be.^ Not every thought to every thought 
 succeeds indifferently. But as we have no imagination 
 whereof we have not formerly had sense in whole or in parts, 
 so we have no transition from one imagination to another, 
 whereof we never had the like before in our senses. 
 The reason whereof is this: all fancies, i. e., images, are 
 motions within us, relics of those made in sense ; and those 
 motions that immediately succeed one another in the sense, 
 continue also together after the sense ; inasmuch as the 
 former coming again to take place and be predominant, 
 the latter followeth by coherence of the matter moved, in 
 such manner as water upon a plain table is drawn, which 
 way any one part of it is guided by the finger. This train 
 of thoughts, or mental discourse, is of twa sorts. The first 
 is unguided, without design, and inconstant, wherein there 
 is no passionate thought to govern and direct those that 
 follow to itself, as the end and scope of some desire or other 
 passion ; in which case the thoughts are said to wander and 
 seem impertinent one to another as in a dream. Such are 
 commonly the thoughts of men that are not only without 
 company, but also without care of anything ; though even 
 then their thoughts are as busy as at other times, but with- 
 out harmony ; as the sound which a lute out of tune would 
 yield to any man ; or in tune to one that could not play. 
 And yet in this wild ranging of the mind, a man may oft- 
 times perceive the way of it, and the dependence of one 
 thought upon another." 
 
 ' Lewes, 422. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 291 
 
 Hobbes makes the sole object of philosophy to be the 
 stady of bodies. These he divides into two classes : natural 
 bodies and political bodies. The latter have been already 
 considered. To the former he assigns two sorts of faculties, 
 viz : faculties of the body, and faculties of the mind. 
 Those of the former he sums up under three heads, viz : 
 power nutritive, power generative, and power motivQ. The 
 faculties of the mind are two, viz : cognitive and imagina- 
 tive, or conceptive and motive. 
 
 To understand the power cognitive he says: " We must 
 remember and acknowledge that there be in our minds 
 continually certain images or conceptions of the things 
 without us. This imagery and representation of the 
 qualities of things without, is that which we call our con- 
 ception, imagination, ideas, notice, or knowledge of them ; 
 and the faculty or power, by which we are capable of such 
 knowledge, is that I here call cognitive power, or concep- 
 tive, the power of knowing or conceiving." * * * 
 " All the qualities called sensible are, in the object that 
 causeth them, but so many several motions of the matter 
 by which it presseth on our organs diversely. I^either in 
 us that are pressed are they anything else but divers 
 motions ; for motion produceth nothing but motion." 
 
 Sense furnishes us with conceptions. Then we have 
 imagination, which is defined by Hobbes to be " a con- 
 ception remaining, and by little and little decaying, from 
 and after the act of sense." It is, therefore, but a decay- 
 ing sense. The term memory is used by Hob^Des to 
 express the act of decay, and to signify that the sense is 
 fading, old, and past. Imagination is used by him in a 
 very general sense, that of ideation. 
 
 " Whatsoever we imagine," says he, " is finite. There- 
 fore there is no idea, no conception of anything we call 
 infinite. Ko man can have in his mind an image of in- 
 finite magnitude, nor conceive infinite swiftness, infinite 
 time, or infinite power. When we say that anything is 
 infinite, we signify only that we are not able to conceive 
 
292 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the ends and bounds of the thing named, having no con- 
 ception of the thing, but of our own inability. And, 
 therefore, the name of God is used, not to make us con- 
 ceive him, for he is incomprehensible,^ and his greatness 
 and power are inconceivable, but that we may honor him. 
 Also, because whatsoever we conceive, has been perceived 
 first by sense, either all at once, or by parts; a man can 
 have no thought representing anything not subject to 
 sense." 
 
 He admits, however, that in virtue of the law of associa- 
 tion, which unites the sensations,^ and which leads the 
 human mind to ascend from cause to cause, we arrive at 
 the idea of God, as a physical cause, although the whole 
 notion of the divine nature is absolutely unintelligible. 
 
 The discovery seems due to Hobbes, that our sensations 
 do not correspond with any external qualities ;^ that what 
 are called sensible qualities, are nothing but modifications 
 of the sentient being. 
 
 Hobbes held that there were two kinds of knowledge : ^ 
 " whereof, the one is nothing else but sense, or knowledge 
 original, and remembrance of the same; the other is called 
 science, or knowledge of the truth of propositions, and 
 how things are called ; and is derived from understanding. 
 Both of these sorts are but experience; the former being 
 the experience of the effects of things that work upon 
 us from without; and the latter, experience men have from 
 the proper use of names in language, and all experience 
 being, as I have said, but remembrance, all knowledge 
 is remembrance." 
 
 Thus, on the assumption that all our thoughts are 
 nothing more than the images of the objects of sense — an 
 assumption, the truth of which a moment's reflection must 
 dissipate, for what are the images of heat, cold, music, etc. — 
 he erects, upon the foundation of experience^ a system 
 entirely materialistic in all its tendencies. 
 
 Lewes, 434. ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 32. ^ Lewes, 430. " Idem, 435. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 293 
 
 His theory of reasoning is very peculiar. According to 
 him, all reasoning is reduced to seeking either the whole 
 by the addition of all its parts, or a part by the subtraction 
 of the rest ; ^ from whence it follows, that deduction and 
 induction are only forms of equation, which is the general 
 process of the reason ; or in other terms, that all human 
 cognitions should be expressible in mathematical formulas, 
 and that everything which is not expressible in that way, 
 has no reality, or, at least, no reality accessible to our 
 intelligence. 
 
 The success of Hobbes was never great in England, but 
 he may well rank as the father of the materialistic systems 
 of the French philosophers. * 
 
 John Locke, the metaphysician of the Baconian philoso- 
 phy, was born at Wrington, England, in 1632. He died in 
 1704. His Essay on the Human Understanding, a specimen 
 of calm, and apparently well considered reasoning, has 
 exerted a vast amount of influence throughout the whole 
 realm of thought. 
 
 Bacon had insisted that the understanding, through ex- 
 perience, arrived at the laws of nature. The questions 
 arising out of this, are: 1. What is the understanding ? 
 2. How do we arrive at experience, or how does experience 
 result from the human mind ? ^ 
 
 It was the problems which these questions present, that 
 Locke undertook to solve. That he takes root in Bacon 
 is quite evident from the two foundations upon wWch his 
 philosophy rests. His entire system reposes upon two 
 thoughts : 
 
 1. There are no innate ideas. 
 
 2. All our knowledge arises from experience. 
 
 Both these thoughts are absolutely indispensable to the 
 maintenance of the sensualistic philosophy, because if there 
 are innate ideas sensation is not the only source of know- 
 
 ' History of Philosophy, ii, 33. ^ Fischer, 435, 436. 
 
294 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ledge, and the same result would equally follow if we 
 could attain to any knowledge independent of experience. 
 
 The following is the plan which Locke lays down for 
 himself: 
 
 ^' First. I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, 
 notions, or whatever else you please to call them,^ which a 
 man observes and is conscious to himseflf he has in his 
 mind; and the ways whereby the understanding comes to 
 be furnished with. them. 
 
 " Secondly. I shall endeavor to show what knowledge the 
 understanding hath by those ideas ; and the certainty, evi- 
 dence and extent of it. 
 
 " Thirdly. I shall make some inquiry into the nature and 
 grounds of faith and opinion ; whereby I mean that assent 
 which we give to any proposition as true, of whose truth 
 we have yet no certain knowledge; and we shall have oc- 
 casion to examine the reasons and degrees of assent." 
 His great object and peculiar merit consists in the investi- 
 gation of the origin, reality, limits and uses of knowledge. 
 
 The method which Locke pursued was purely psycholo- 
 gical, although the results he arrived at were physiological 
 in their tendency, and hence legitimately employed in the 
 erection of materialism. In carrying out this method he 
 descended into the depths of his own consciousness, and 
 there employed himself in patiently observing phenomena, 
 watching the operations of his own mind, sitting at the 
 sources of thought, scanning the thinking process, and 
 stealing from it the secret of its operations, and of the 
 numerous combinations it was capable of producing. 
 Thus in his method, he is well and properly styled the 
 founder of modern psychology. 
 
 Locke, in all his investigations and reasonings, never 
 loses sight of his three great primary objects : 1. The 
 sources of knowledge. 2. Its reality and uses. 3. Its 
 legitimate limits. 
 
 Lewes, 436. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 295 
 
 What Bacon left as an implication is taken as the start- 
 ing point of Locke. He had insisted that the mind should 
 divest itself of all idols, all preconceived ideas and notions, 
 in order to clear away all hindrances to scientific progress. 
 In this work of clearing away, he makes no exception ; and 
 hence there is not a single idea or notion of which the mind 
 is unable to rid itself, not one which is firmly anchored 
 there as innate. 
 
 In precise accordance with this is the starting point of 
 Locke, viz : that there are no innate ideas ; that the mind 
 originally is a mere tabula rasa, upon which experience 
 writes its vast varieties of knowledge. The only real 
 difierence is that Bacon insists that the mind shall be 
 made like an empty casket, while Locke says that it is 
 this by nature. 
 
 In coming upon ground purely psychological, and deny- 
 ing the existence of innate ideas, Locke was in direct con- 
 flict with Descartes, and subsequently with Leibnitz. In 
 this denial he went, and to be effectual he must go the 
 whole length, that is, that in the human mind there are no 
 innate laws, either of the thought, or of the will, neither 
 axioms nor maxims ; hence no natural knowledge, moral- 
 ity, or religion.^ 
 
 * This doctrine he seeks to establish by means of the 
 " negative instances " of the Baconian method. His argu- 
 ment, in brief, is, if there are innate ideas, all men must 
 have them, whereas experience shows that most men know 
 nothing of the axioms, which he brings forward as instances 
 of innate ideas,^ indeed many times never acquire a know- 
 ledge of them during their entire lives. There can, there- 
 fore, be no innate ideas, and the human mind, independent 
 of experience, is a tabula rasa. 
 
 Thus, according to Locke, there is no natural knowledge, 
 in the sense of something originally given. ^ There is only 
 a natural history of human knowledge, as something 
 
 i^w^er, 439. ''Idem,^/i\. ''ldem,Ul. 
 
290 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 gradually acquired. The principal object of the essay is 
 to describe the natural history of the human under- 
 standing. 
 
 Locke did not seem to consider that in destroying every- 
 thing innate, and in constructing upon no other foundation 
 than experience every individual, he was destroying the 
 foundation upon which nationalities repose, and all his- 
 tory is erected. That foundation is well expressed by 
 Socrates when he says: that he is obliged to obey 
 the laws of his country, for he has already preexisted 
 in his ancestors as a citizen of Athens. If he had come 
 into the world an entirely new being, his mind, a tabula 
 rasa, which was yet to have its development and history, 
 and that to be only his own individual experience, it is 
 clear he could have had no such preexistence, and hence 
 have been under no such obligation. Men, upon that 
 principle, could no more form governments based upon a 
 moral element, and which could be the subjects of history, 
 than flies or horses. 
 
 In respect to the origin and sources of ideas, the com- 
 mencement and progress of this natural history of the 
 understanding, Hobbes had said that all our ideas are de- 
 rived from sensations, that there is nothing in the intellect 
 which was not before in the sense. 
 
 Locke was a psychologist and not a materialist. He 
 does not, therefore, limit himself to this source. In the 
 depths of his own consciousness he had discovered that 
 there was a thinking subject and thinking process, that 
 there was there an element entirely overlooked by Hobbes, 
 viz : that of reflection. Thus he declared that " although 
 sensation was the great source of most of our ideas, yet 
 there was another fountain from which experience fur- 
 nisheth the understanding with ideas; and this source 
 though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with ex- 
 ternal objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly 
 enough be termed internal sense." This is what he calls 
 reflection. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 297 
 
 Thus, in terms, Locke separated himself from Hobbes 
 and 'the materialistic school. But the doubt has been 
 whether that separation was not apparent rather than real. 
 He superadds an inner sense, that bj which the mind 
 becomes cognizant of its own operations, and he terms that 
 reflection. But the important question is: does this reflec- 
 tion busy or employ itself about any ideas that were not 
 originally derived through the senses ? The answer to this 
 question must decide the standing of Locke. If in the 
 affirmative, he was a psychologist; if in the negative, he 
 must be ranked not perhaps as a pure materialist, but cer- 
 tainly as one holding to doctrines clearly materialistic in 
 their nature and tendency. The negative will have to be 
 conceded, for as he obtains everything from experience, re- 
 flection can do nothing more than to furnish consciousness, 
 with a knowledge of thinking processes, or modes of men- 
 tal activity, and not with ideas. Locke seems to admit no 
 idea whose root was not originally in the sense. Besides, 
 he holds that reflection, although different from sensation, 
 as it does not refer to an external object, yet has a funda- 
 mental characteristic in common with it,^ as ihej both 
 imply a feeling and a sentiment; and hence to both belongs 
 equally the term sense, that one being external and the 
 other internal. 
 
 Another point going to show that the negative is the 
 correct answer is the time stated by Locke at which both 
 these sources go into activity. " If it be demanded," says 
 he, " when a man begins to have ideas, I think tlie true 
 answer is, when he first has any sensation. For since there 
 appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses 
 have conveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the under- 
 standing are coeval with sensation." 
 
 Again more explicitly in reference to these sources. " In 
 time the mind comes to reflect on its own operations about 
 the ideas got by sensation, and thereby stores itself with a 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 39. 
 VI] 38 
 
298 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 new set of ideas, which I call ideas of reflection. These 
 are the impressions which are made on our senses by out- 
 ward objects that are extrinsical to the mind, and its own 
 operations proceeding from powers intrinsical, and proper 
 to itself, which when reflected on by itself, becoming also 
 objects of its contemplation, are, as I have said, the original 
 of all knowledge. Thus the first capacity of the human 
 intellect is that the mind is fitted to receive the impressions 
 made on it; either through the senses by outward objects 
 or by its own operations when it reflects on them." 
 
 Having ascertained the sources, Locke next busies him- 
 self about the ideas themselves, which, in their aggregate, 
 constitute knowledge. These ideas are: 1. Simple. 2. 
 Complex. The first are derived immediately from percep- 
 tion. So far as they are simple ideas of sensation, they are 
 those impressed from without upon the understanding 
 while it remains in a passive state, very much as the images 
 of objects are represented in a mirror. But as thinking 
 and willing are also objects of internal perception, we have 
 also simple ideas of reflection." 
 
 Locke is quite ingenious in the manner of deriving ideas, 
 thus : 
 
 " The idea of space is given us by sight and touch ; it is 
 resolved at bottom into that of body.^ 
 
 " The idea of time comes from the reflection of the soul on 
 the series of ideas which follow after each other. 
 
 " The idea of infinity, very obscure and purely negative, is 
 resolved into the idea of number conceived as indefinitely 
 repeated by the mind. 
 
 " The idea of personal identity from the union of memory 
 and consciousness, a union in virtue of which we judge that 
 such or such a past action was done by the same being who 
 actually represents it himself. 
 
 "The ideas of cause and effect are derived both from sensa- 
 tion and from reflection ; from sensation, inasmuch as they 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, ii, 40. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 299 
 
 express a succession of phenomena, of which one constantly 
 takes place after another ; from reflection because the idea 
 of power is principally furnished by the consciousness of 
 our own internal activity or our will. 
 
 " The idea of right and wrong is radically nothing, but the 
 idea of happiness or misery attached to the observance or 
 infraction of a maxim proposed as a law, that is to say, to 
 the idea of a reward or punishment." 
 
 The idea of substance was of very difficult explanation 
 by Locke. He explains its origin by stating that we find 
 both in sensation and reflection that a certain number of 
 simple ideas seem often to be connected together. But as 
 these ideas seem not to have been produced through them- 
 selves, we are accustomed to furnish them with a ground 
 in some existing substratum, which we indicate by the 
 word substance. Substance is, therefore, something to us 
 entirely unknown, and is conceived of as possessing those 
 qualities which are necessary to furnish us with simple 
 ideas. We do not know what is the archetype of substance, 
 and of substance itself we are acquainted only with its attri- 
 butes. 
 
 In reference to complex ideas, Locke says, " that when 
 the understanding is once stored with these simple ideas, 
 it has the power to repeat, compare, and unite them, 
 even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at 
 pleasure, new complex ideas." " But," he adds, " it is 
 not in the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged un- 
 derstanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to 
 invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind not 
 taken in by the ways aforementioned." 
 
 Locke next investigates the question which concerns 
 the principle of knowledge, or the correspondence of 
 ideas to things. But as language exerts a great infiuence 
 in the formation of abstract ideas, and becomes the occa- 
 sion of many errors,^ he first treats of the relation of 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, ii, 41. 
 
300 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 words to ideas, in order to discover the illusions of which 
 words are the source, and comes then to the relation of 
 ideas to things, or to knowledge. 
 
 Locke was here called upon to grapple with the problem 
 of human knowledge, its reality, certainty, and limits ; a 
 problem which still lacks a satisfactory solution. 
 
 As to the nature of knowledge, whether it be objective 
 or subjective, a knowledge appertaining to or inherent in 
 the object, or existing only in the subject, or thinking being, 
 he took a half way stand, thus accommodating both sides of 
 the question. He taught that there were primary and 
 secondary qualities in bodies, and that our ideas of the 
 former are resemblances of what really exist in the bodies 
 themselves, but that the ideas produced in us by secondary 
 qualities have no resemblance of them at all. Thus, he 
 says, " It is evident that the bulk, figure, and motion of 
 several bodies about us, produce in us several sensations, 
 as of colors, sounds, tastes, smells, pleasure and pain, etc. 
 These mechanical affections of bodies having no affinity at 
 all with those ideas they produce in us — there being no con- 
 ceivable connection between any impulse of any sort of 
 body, and any perception of a color or smell which we find 
 in our minds — we can have no distinct knowledge of such 
 operations beyond our experience; and can reason about 
 them no otherwise than as the effects produced by an 
 infinitely wise agent, which perfectly surpass our compre- 
 hensions. * * * * Yl^e things that, as far as our 
 observation reaches, we constantly find to proceed regularly, 
 we may conclude do act by a law set them ; but yet by a 
 law that we know not, whereby, though causes work 
 steadily, and effects constantly flow from them, yet their 
 connections and dependencies being not discoverable in our 
 ideas, we can have but an experimental knowledge of them." 
 
 Even in regard to the reality of the primary qualities, he 
 does not seem perfectly well assured, for he has taken the 
 precaution to warn us " that so we may not think, as per- 
 haps usually is done, that they (ideas) are exactly the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 301 
 
 images and resemblances of something inherent in the 
 subject; most of those of sensation being in the mind no 
 more the likeness of something existing without us than 
 the names that stand for them are likenesses of our ideas, 
 which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us." 
 
 This taken in connection with his idea, or rather non- 
 idea of substance, will justify the conclusion that according 
 to Locke, we never perceive the intrinsic nature of things,^ 
 but only their outward manifestation and qualities. This 
 was really an abandonment of metaphysics, as the meta- 
 physics profess to be the knowledge of the substance of 
 things.^ 
 
 Locke even doubted the immateriality of the soul, as he 
 says, ^'perhaps" it may be material.^ *'He inquires how 
 our ideas can be representatives of finite spirits ;* and as he 
 cannot find in the ideas, as he has conceived them, the 
 principle of such a representation, he concludes we can no 
 more know by our ideas the existence of finite spirits, than 
 we can know the existence of fairies by the ideas which 
 we form of them." 
 
 And yet on the theological stand point, Locke has taken 
 for his foundation the point which he had doubted in his psy- 
 chology,^ basing his proof of the existence of the deity, upon 
 the thinking, that is, the spiritual nature of the human soul, 
 and the existence of finite spirits. The argument is, 
 " There are spirits ; therefore, as their cause, there must 
 be an eternal spirit, since the spiritual cannot proceed 
 from the spiritless, the thinking from the unthinking. So 
 that either there is no thinking being at all,^ or a thinking 
 being existed from all eternity." The existence of the 
 supreme being could not be demonstrated upon the prin- 
 ciples of Locke's philosophy. 
 
 It is important to understand the precise point reached 
 by Locke as to the problem of human knowledge, with the 
 
 ^ Fisclier, 443. ^ Idem, 444. ^ Idem, 445. * History of PMlosopJiy, ii, 43. 
 Fischer, 445. ® Idem, 445. 
 
302 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 view of connecting with him the skeptical and materialistic 
 schools. He had arrived, as we have already seen, at 
 the subjective nature of all human knowledge, with 
 the single exception of asserting its objective nature as 
 to the primary quaUties of bodies, but at the same time 
 admitting there could be no idea of substance. He seems 
 however, to have assumed the entire subjectivity of know- 
 ledge, and grounded upon that, to have even advanced his 
 outposts into a region beyond. '^ Since," says he, *' the 
 mind in all its thoughts and reasonings hath no other im- 
 mediate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can 
 contemplate, it is evident that our knowledge is only con- 
 versant about them. Knowledge, then, seems to me nothing 
 but the perception of the connection and agreement, or 
 disagreement and repugnancy of any one of our ideas. 
 
 " * * * It is evident that the mind knows not 
 things immediately, but only by the intervention of ideas 
 it has of them. Our knowledge therefore is real, only so 
 far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the 
 reality of things. But what shall be here the criterion? 
 How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its own 
 ideas, know that they agree with the things themselves ? " 
 
 Thus is the problem stated by Locke, with a clearness 
 that only renders more apparent the difficulty of its solu- 
 tion. The following is Locke's solution : 
 
 " There are," says he, " two sorts of ideas, the simple 
 and the complex; or, to use more modern language, per- 
 ceptions and conceptions. The first must necessarily be 
 the product of things operating on the mind,^ in a natural 
 way, and producing those perceptions, which, by the wisdom 
 and will of our maker, they are ordained and adapted to. 
 From whence it follows, that simple ideas are not fictions 
 of our fancies, but the natural and regular productions of 
 things without us, really operating upon us ; and so carry 
 with them all the conformity which was intended, or which 
 
 ^ Lewes, 446. 
 
E UROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 303 
 
 our state requires ; for they represent things to us under 
 those appearances, which they are fitted to produce in us." 
 
 This, it will be perceived, rests altogether short of 
 absolute certainty. His position is, that '' ideas may be 
 true for us, without being at all true when considered abso- 
 lutely." 
 
 Thus we arrive at Locke's limits of the human under- 
 standing. It was as far as his own principles could carry 
 him. He had attempted to physchologize experience, and 
 this was the best he could do. He was in reality the 
 philosopher of experience, and could not go beyond it. 
 Arrived at its limit he sits down contentedly with the con- 
 soling reflection : " The candle that is set up within us 
 shines bright enough for all our purposes." 
 
 The principles enfolded within the philosophy of Locke, 
 and still more plainly perceptible in that of Hobbes, were 
 not suflered to remain in obscurity. They were there, and 
 must be developed in the world's thinking. We follow 
 this thinking in two main currents, the one materialistic, 
 the other skeptical. As before stated, the following is the 
 form of its expression : 
 
 Hobbes Locke o^ 
 
 W 
 
 Hartley Berkeley y ^ 
 
 Darwin 
 
 Condillac 
 
 Helvetius 
 
 Holbacb 
 
 Cabanis 
 
 DeTracy 
 
 Outgrowths of the Baconian Philosophy — Materialism : Hartley 
 Darwin, Condillac, Helvetius, Holbach, Cabanis, De Tracy. 
 Skepticism : Berkeley. 
 
 David Hartley was born in Yorkshire, England, in 1705, 
 and died in 1757. His is the philosophy of vibration, and 
 
304 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 it constitutes probably the first attempt to explain psycholo- 
 gical, or purely mental phenomena upon physiological 
 principles. 
 
 He assigns the white medullary substance of the brain, 
 spinal marrow, and nerves, as the immediate instrument of 
 sensation and motion.^ Then his position is that " exter- 
 nal objects impressed upon the senses occasion, first in 
 the nerves on which they are impressed, and then in the 
 brain, vibrations of the small, or, as one may say, infinit- 
 esimal medullary particles. These vibrations are motions 
 backwards and forwards, of the same kind as the oscillation 
 of pendulums, and the tremblings of the particles of sound- 
 ing bodies. They must be conceived to be exceedingly 
 short and small, so as not to have the least efficacy to dis- 
 turb or move the whole bodies of the nerves or brain. For 
 that the nerves themselves should vibrate like musical 
 strings is highly absurd." 
 
 The nervous ether penetrating the nerves, is the seat of 
 these oscillations. The vibration theory makes sensation 
 the result of a nervous oscillation. All this, however, is a 
 mere hypothesis. But it lacks the quality that can alone 
 render a hypothesis of any value, viz : it is wholly inca- 
 pable of verification. 
 
 Erasmus Darwin was born at Elton, England, in 1731, 
 and died in 1802. His theory in principle varied but little 
 from Hartley's ; for in the place of the vibrations of the 
 latter he substitutes sensorial motions. By sensorium 
 he means not only the medullary part of the brain, but also 
 that living principle or spirit of animation, ^ which resides 
 throughout the body without being cognizable to our senses, 
 except by its effects. He terms the changes, which take 
 place in the sensorium, sensorial motions. 
 
 The medullary substance, according to him passes along 
 the nerves, and mingles with the muscular fibres. The or- 
 
 ^ Lewes, 509, 510. "" Idem, 512. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 305 
 
 gans of sense consist of moving fibres enveloped in the 
 medullary substance. An idea is a contraction or motion, 
 or configuration of the fibres, which constitute the imme- 
 diate organ of sense. He subordinated all psychological 
 phenomena to the laws of life. 
 
 But it was in France, the home of Descartes, that the 
 materialistic tendencies contained in the philosophy of 
 Locke were to receive their full development. 
 
 Etienne de Condillac was born at Grenoble in 1715, and 
 died in 1780. He was at first a disciple of Locke, and in 
 his first work lays down as a fundamental principle that 
 " sensations and the operations of the mind are the ma- 
 terials of all our knowledge, materials which reflection sets 
 in action by seeking their combinations and relations." ^ 
 
 But Locke had placed great stress upon the sensuous 
 origin of our knowledge, and Condillac, in his subsequent 
 reflections, was led to the conclusion not only that the 
 senses were the origin of knowledge, but that their action, 
 the sensations produced by them, constituted knowledge 
 itself. He went so far as to find that not only all ideas, the 
 elements and substance of every variety of knowledge,^ 
 but even all our faculties, those which constitute the mind, 
 an ever living, acting organism, were nothing more than 
 mere sensations, or derivatives direct from our sensual 
 organs. Instead of mind, with certain, elementary facul- 
 ties, he sets out with but one elementary faculty, that of 
 sensibility, out of which all the faculties are evolved by the 
 action of external objects on the senses. This was going 
 a great way beyond Hobbes, who, although he maintained 
 that there was nothing in the intellect, which had not before 
 been in the sense, yet he could not dispense with faculties 
 to gather up what was derived from the sense and clothe 
 it with intellectual forms. 
 
 Condillac's reasoning on this subject is very curious. 
 
 ^ Lewes, 4QQ. "" Idem, ^^Q, 
 VI] 39 
 
306 HISTOEY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 " If," says he, " a multitude of sensations operate at the 
 same time with the same degree of vivacity, or nearly so, 
 man is then only an animal that feels ; experience suffices 
 to convince us, that then the multitude of impressions 
 takes away all activity from the mind. But let only one 
 sensation subsist,^ or without entirely dismissing the others 
 let us only diminish their force ; the mind is at once occu- 
 pied more particularly with the sensation which preserves 
 its vivacity, and that sensation hecomes attention, without 
 its being necessary for us to suppose anything else in the 
 mind. If a new sensation acquire greater vivacity than the 
 former, it will become in its turn attention. But the 
 greater the force which the former had, the deeper the 
 impression made on us, and the longer it is preserved. 
 Experience proves this. Our capacity of sensation is, 
 therefore, divided into the sensation we have had, and the 
 sensation we now have. We perceive them both at once, 
 but we perceive them differently : the one seems as past, 
 the other as present. The name of sensation designates 
 the impression actually made upon our senses ; and it takes 
 that of memory when it presents itself to us as a sensation 
 which has formerly been felt. Memory, therefore, is only 
 the transformed sensation. When there is double atteii- 
 tion there is comparison ; for to be attentive to two ideas 
 or to compare them, is the same thing. But we cannot 
 compare them without perceiving some difference or some 
 resemblance between them : to perceive such relations is 
 to judge. The acts of comparing and judging are there- 
 fore only attention ; it is thus that sensation becomes suc- 
 cessively attention, comparison, judgment." 
 
 This is a specimen of the reasoning of Condillac the first 
 great direct advocate of the materialistic school. 
 
 Claude Adrian Helvetius, born at Paris in 1715, the same 
 year as Condillac ; died in 1771, applied the sensualistic sys- 
 
 ^ Lewes, A9S. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 307 
 
 tern, now sunk into materialism, to the subject of morals. 
 Assuming that Condillac had proved his doctrine, and that 
 in the sphere of inteUigence there is nothing but sensations, 
 he proceeded to lay down the doctrine that there can there- 
 fore be in the sphere of the will nothing but pleasure and 
 pain. This he attempted to prove by showing that the 
 will can act only upon elements furnished by the intelli- 
 gence, and claiming that sensations in their relation to the 
 will are nothing more than pleasure or pain. 
 
 The system of Helvetius contains two orders of ideas. ^ 
 One deduces from the principles of sensualism the morality 
 of self-interest. This is a clear, logical deduction. The 
 one naturally, if not necessarily, flows from the other. 
 
 The other order seeks to find in this morality of self- 
 interest the foundation of d uty , obligation and virtue. Here 
 comes his great difficulty"^ to find in pure selfishness the 
 root of principles that are unselfish and can only be ex- 
 panded in an atmosphere free from every selfish taint. 
 This was a task to which he proved incompetent. But if 
 intelligence, with all its faculties, could be merged in sensa- 
 tion, it might reasonably be expected that duty, obliga- 
 tion and virtue could be found flowing from self-interest. 
 Every philosophy, if accurately examined, will be found 
 consistent in the principles it seeks to carry out. 
 
 Paul H. D. Baron Von Holbach, born in 1723, died in 
 1789, applied the principles of sensualism to a theory of 
 the universe. This was done in a work attributed to bim 
 alone, or in conjunction with his associates, in a work 
 entitled, the System of Nature. In this work it is asserted 
 that there is nothing in the universe but matter and mo- 
 tion. That both these are inseparably connected together. 
 All particular beings are nothing but the difierent combi- 
 nations which motion produces in matter. The moving 
 force grows out of attraction and repulsion, and all the 
 
 ^ History of PMlosopliy , ii, 44. 
 
308 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 different raotions we behold are the product of these two ; 
 and out of, and by means of, all these vast varieties of 
 motion, ^' arise the various connections, and the whole 
 manifoldness of things." These principles of motion are 
 eternal. 
 
 This moving force is developed in various degrees.^ 
 The first or lowest degree of it suffices for the production 
 of unorganized bodies ; the second, for bodies that are 
 organized ; and the highest, for those organized bodies 
 that are possessed of sensibility, which is itself only the 
 effect of a certain kind of organization. All human 
 actions are the necessary result, either of the internal 
 motion of the organization, or of those external motions 
 by which they are modified. 
 
 Thought is only a modification of the brain. The mind 
 of man is wholly material, becauSe that which is not ma- 
 terial can never act upon matter, can never set matter in 
 motion, for there is no point of contact between the two. 
 
 There is no God other than the moving power, in 
 matter. Any other is the product of fear, and the author 
 of superstition. The true system of nature is atheistic. 
 
 As a natural, and even necessary, consequence of this 
 system, all freedom is merged in necessity, and being ter- 
 minates with life. Man is a blind instrument in the hands 
 of necessity, as the universe itself is only an endless series 
 of necessary motions, perpetuating themselves, and con- 
 stantly expanding in every possible direction. The soul 
 being only a modification of a substance, must of course 
 cease with the cessation of the substance. To live in the 
 memory of posterity is the only immortality. 
 
 Previous to the publication of the System of Nature^ and 
 even the birth of Yon Holbach, as early as 1713, and which 
 was continued to 1784, was published in France, the Phi- 
 losophical Encydopmdia, by Diderot and d'Alembert, which 
 more than any other, reflected the inner consciousness of 
 
 ^History of PTdlosophy, ii, 45. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 309 
 
 the French people of that epoch.^ "Well seasoned with 
 wit and sarcasm, and in the spirit of Voltaire, it " reasoned 
 away law from the state, freedom from morality, and 
 spirit and God from nature, though all this was done 
 only in scattered, and, for the most part, timorous intima- 
 tions." 
 
 The sensualistic philosophy, under the lowest form of 
 materialism, ran quite through the eighteenth century in 
 France, furnishing two of its representatives near the close 
 of the century. 
 
 Pierre Jean Georges Cabanis was born at Cognac in 
 1757, and died in 1808. He sought to complete what 
 Locke originally, and Condillac succeeding him, had left 
 defective. Locke had shown the sensational origin of 
 ideas ; Condillac that all ideas and faculties were derived 
 from, or mere modifications of sensation. It remained for 
 Cabanis to investigate sensation itself, to physiologize ma- 
 terialism. 
 
 This he has done by referring sensation to the nervous 
 system. He makes it depend on every impression made 
 upon the extremities of any set of nerves, being followed 
 by a reaction from the centre of the organ towards the 
 extremities. Thus sensibility is made to unfold itself in 
 two distinct stages.^ In the second it reacts. In the first 
 it flows back from the circumference to the centre. In the 
 second it returns from the centre to the circumference. 
 This action and reaction must both exist before the senti- 
 ment or impulse intended to be produced can take place. 
 Thus, upon the principles before established in this school, 
 all intellect, moral feelings, volitions, emotions, even 
 mental faculties, were reducible to sensation. Now sensa- 
 tion itself was shown to be simply an affection of the 
 nerves, so that man, and all the phenomena of possible 
 production by him are all resolvable into nerves. 
 
 ^Sehwegle, 206, 207. ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 214. 
 
310 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 This theory had a wonderful simplicity. All that was 
 required to be given was the nerves. Then an impression 
 received, an action and reaction of the n6rves, a sentiment 
 or idea resulting, and the theory is complete. 
 
 The relations between the physical, and the moral and in- 
 tellectual in man, were thus solved upon this theory, the 
 intellectual and moral faculties are the effect, the physical 
 nervous organization the cause. Idea or sentiment is at 
 once the last term of the phenomena which constitute life, 
 and the first of those which we attribute to mind. 
 
 He explained the great facility by which age, sex, tem- 
 perament, climate, influence the intellectual and moral 
 character of men, by insisting that they were only so many 
 circumstances affecting the nervous system, and through 
 that the sensibility, intelligence and will. Ascertain the 
 causes acting upon the nerves, and the feelings that result 
 from them, and all moral and intellectual phenomena are 
 of easy explanation. 
 
 He also drew a parallel between the action of the 
 stomach in digestion, and that of the brain in thinking. 
 The impressions from without he called the food of the 
 brain. Upon this, the properties of the brain react as the 
 gastric juice of the stomach does upon its contents, and the 
 result is that thought is secreted. ■ 
 
 This should have been the last shot fired by materialism, 
 as Cabanis occasionally discovers glimpses of higher prin- 
 ciples, and before his death fairly awoke to the conviction 
 that the soul is not a result of the organization, but is a 
 distinct living force present in it.^ 
 
 Count Destutt De Tracy, born in 1754 and publishing 
 his Elements of Idealogy in 1801, is the metaphysician, as 
 Cabanis was the physiologist, of the materialistic school. 
 
 All he has done is to explain more clearly, and to carry 
 a little further the principles of Condillac. He held that 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy ^ ii, 316. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 311 
 
 the mind was nothing but sensibility, and this sensibility 
 was succeptible of four sorts of impressions : 
 
 1. Those arising from t"'"e present action of objects upon 
 the organs. 
 
 2. Those resulting from their past action, by means of 
 a certain disposition which that action left upon the organs. 
 
 3. Those of things which have relations, and may be 
 compared. 
 
 4. Those which spring from our wants, and lead us to 
 seek satisfaction for them. 
 
 " Everything comes from the affection of the sensibility 
 through impressions made upon the organs of sense. When 
 the sensibility is affected by the first sort of impressions it 
 feels simply. 
 
 When by the second, it repeats or recollects.^ 
 
 When by the third, it feels relations or judges. 
 
 When by the fourth, it desires or wills. 
 
 Thus sensation, according to the nature of its objects, 
 manifests itself respectively as pure perception, or memory, 
 or judgment, or will. It is, therefore, the sole principle of 
 all our faculties, and of all operations of the mind, since 
 there is none of them which may not be reduced to one or 
 the other of these forms of sensibility." 
 
 We have now, with one single exception, arrived at the 
 ultimate limit of the sensualistic philosophy inaugurated 
 by Bacon, developed morally, politically, and metaphysi- 
 cally by Hobbes and Locke, and materialistically i)y the 
 French philosophers. That exception exists in the positiv- 
 ism of Comte, which, although closely allied to the sen- 
 sualistic, yet we shall consider as a transition from the 
 schools originated by the critical philosophy. 
 
 It seems to have been the mission of the French mind, 
 first to give birth to idealism, the rationalistic philosophy, 
 in the person of Descartes; and then to push out into 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, ii, 217. 
 
312 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 their ultimate results the principles involved in sensualism, 
 until everything embraced in the materialistic philosophy 
 was fully brought out and even ostentatiously displayed in 
 all their startling proportions. To do this required the 
 whole of the eighteenth century, and thus during three 
 successive generations, France surrendered herself to the 
 reign of materialism. During the most of this period 
 there was no psychology, no mind, except what could be 
 collected from the action of the organs of sense, no morality 
 except what could be extracted from self-interest, no God, 
 except the moving power in nature, and no immortality 
 except the memory of men. All veneration for the su- 
 preme being, all reverence for the authority of law, all 
 the deep feelings which could proceed only from the soul, 
 had nearly died out from the Gallic heart. The moral 
 bonds that bind man to the state, and connect man with 
 man, and family with family, were materially loosened, if 
 not destroyed. 
 
 The result must be told by history ; for this voluntary 
 self-abrogation of human prerogatives ; this denial of a 
 God in heaven and a man on earth, this sinking of the 
 human into the mere animal nature, could not be suffered 
 to pass unavenged, l^or did it. The revolution came, 
 and the bitter fruits of materialism ripened into the reign 
 of terror. 
 
 And yet the lesson was necessary, the principles legiti- 
 mately embraced in sensualism must be fully developed 
 and pushed into their ultimate results. This could be done 
 only by surrendering up a people and a century to its phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 We now turn to the other branch, the other current into 
 which flows the course of thinking of sensualistic reflection, 
 and here we encounter the skepticism of Berkeley. 
 
 George Berkeley was an Irishman, born in 1684, and 
 died in 1753. His real position in philosophy has been 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 3l3 
 
 much of a puzzle, and giveu occasion for difference of 
 opinion. He has very generally been ranked as an ideal- 
 ist, and hence belonging to the rationalistic, not the sensu- 
 alistic school. But I think it can be shown quite clearly 
 that he is to Locke, and the sensualistic school, what Hume 
 is to Descartes and the rationalistic, and that he is there- 
 fore a link in the series that marks the transi tion to Hume, 
 the most profound of the skeptics.^ Berkeley's dialogues, 
 in which his peculiar doctrines are developed, were directed 
 against the skeptics, and he does not seem to be aware 
 that within his own theory he was nursing the germ of a 
 skepticism that was subsequently to receive a masterly 
 development by his acute successor.^ 
 
 Berkeley was a clergyman, and ultimately a bishop, and 
 was probably shocked at the materialism towards which 
 the sensualistic philosophy was so rapidly tending. But 
 where could lie the error ? Locke had fully demonstrated 
 that " all our knowledge consists in ideas as the immedi- 
 ate objects of consciousness." His psychology was, there- 
 fore, unassailable. But the method of transition from the 
 inward world of ideas to the outward world of things was 
 the point upon which Berkeley fastened, and in which he 
 supposed he had detected the error. 
 
 Locke had divided bodies into those possessing primary 
 qualities, as extension, mobility, solidity, and those posses- 
 sing secondary qualities as color, and admitted that in the 
 latter there is nothing like our ideas existing in the bodies 
 themselves. That those, therefore, exist only in idea., are 
 subjective. But as to the former, our inward ideas must 
 necessarily imply some objective material existence,^ 
 which they resemble and by which they are originated. 
 He supposed there must exist a substance which was 
 really a mere figment of the mind, a substratum which 
 served to unite the qualities or attributes, and in which 
 they all inhered. 
 
 ' Fischer, 454. "" Idem, 463. ' Morell, 141 . 
 VI] 40 
 
314 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 This inferred substance was attacked by Berkeley, who 
 claimed that the same doctrine should apply to bodies 
 with primary qualities, as to those with secondary, and that 
 " all the qualities we perceive in bodies are but the powers 
 to produce sensations in us; ^ and that it is we who attri- 
 bute to the causes of these sensations a form analogous to 
 their effects." 
 
 Berkeley asserted that as we cannot possibly get beyond 
 our ideas, these ideas, and nothing else, must be the real 
 objects of our knowledge. 
 
 His main positions were that the " objects of knowledge 
 are ideas, and nothing but ideas. All human knowledge 
 can only be the knowledge of ideas, and of nothing but 
 ideas. Objects being identified with ideas, and we having 
 no idea of an object but as it is perceived, the esse of ob- 
 jects to us is percepi." 
 
 Two questions only remain : 
 
 1. What did Berkeley doubt the existence of, and dis- 
 pose of in getting rid of the material world ? 
 
 2. "What, in reality, were the ideas which his philosophy 
 admitted the existence of? 
 
 In reference to the first, when Berkeley denied the exist- 
 ence of matter, it is clear that what he meant by matter 
 was that unknown substratum, which existed as a mere 
 inference of Locke, that fancy created noumenon, sup- 
 posed to underlie all phenomena ; that something in which 
 all accidents might inhere. In reference to this he says : 
 " It is a mere abstraction. It is unknown, unknowable ; 
 it is a figment, and I will none of it ; for it is a figment 
 worse than useless; it is pernicious as the basis of all 
 atheism. If by matter you understand that which is seen, 
 felt, tasted, and touched, then I say matter exists : ^ I am 
 as firm a believer in its existence as any one can be, 
 and herein I agree with the vulgar. If, on the con- 
 trary, you understand by matter, that occult substratum 
 
 ^ Lewes, 444. ^ Idem, 463. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 315 
 
 which is not seen, not felt, not tasted, that of which the 
 senses do not, cannot, inform, you, then I say I believe not 
 in the existence of matter, and herein I differ from the 
 philosophers and agree with the vulgar." 
 
 Again : " I do not argue against the existence of any 
 one thing that we can apprehend, either by sensation 
 or reflection. That the things I see with my eyes and 
 touch with my hand, do exist, really exist, I make not 
 the least question. The only thing whose existence I 
 deny, is that which philosophers call matter, or corporeal 
 substance. 
 
 As to the second question, he says : " I am not for chang- 
 ing things into ideas, but rather ideas into things; since 
 those immediate objects of perception, which according to 
 you, are only appearances of things, I take to be the real 
 things themselves." 
 
 And again : " That what I see, hear, and feel, doth exist , 
 4. e., is perceived by me, I no more doubt than I do of my 
 own being ; but I do not see how the testimony of sense 
 can be alleged as a proof of anything which is not perceived 
 by sense." 
 
 Hence it is obvious that what are called things in ordi- 
 nary language, he calls ideas, or things in us, which, as 
 such, are as real, and stand on as secure a basis as they 
 do in the opinion of the unthinking, who fancy that nature 
 is external to ourselves.^ 
 
 We do not perceive things themselves, but only their 
 copies in our minds ; we only perceive our own impressions. 
 This will be admitted by all. But most persons believe 
 that the real things stand behind their impressions, and are 
 the originals that are copied and reflected in our senses.^ 
 It is the belief in the originals of the copies, external to 
 ourselves, which Berkeley seeks to destroy; and he does so 
 by converting, as he styles it, ideas into things, that is, the 
 copies themselves into the originals. 
 
 ^ Mscher, 460. ' Idem, 460, 461 . 
 
316 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 In this view of the case, which is strongly sustained by 
 the language of Berkeley, the conclusions of Dr. Fischer 
 possess great force. *'If," says he, "we would arrive at 
 the sum total of Berkeley's philosophy,^ it is deduced from 
 the proposition that sensuous perceptions are things, which 
 proposition is itself no more than the conclusion and final 
 result of sensualism. If perceptions are things, it follows 
 that all human knowledge is, in truth, empirical self-know- 
 ledge, that in all eases we only experience our own given 
 state, and that thus all experience can merely be self experi- 
 ence. Berkeley has done more than establish this fact. 
 If knowledge altogether is more than experience, as Bacon 
 has said ; if all experience is no more than sensuous percep- 
 tion, as Locke has said; we must then conclude, with 
 Berkeley, that we know nothing but our own impressions, 
 that our impressions are the things themselves, and that, 
 therefore, the knowledge of things, if we rightly investigate 
 the matter, is no more than a knowledge of ourselves, or,* 
 more strictly speaking, experience of ourselves." 
 
 Thus whichever branch we take of the Baconian philo- 
 sophy, we terminate alike in profound sensualism, the one 
 materialistic, the other idealistic ; the one merging the 
 senses in matter, the other, mind in the senses. 
 
 And this philosophy, from its very nature, must be 
 empirical, sensational. If all we get is derived from experi- 
 ence, if no idea or impression can enter the mind except 
 through the avenue of sense, what possibility is there of 
 arriving at any idea, even the faintest, of spiritual natures, 
 or of any spiritual attributes ? Further, how can there be, 
 through the entire range of existences, any spiritual beings ? 
 And how can the supreme being, the spiritual source of 
 all being, be apprehended ? And if the senses are the only 
 inlets of feeling, ideas, knowledge, what kind of existence 
 is that which survives their total annihilation ? It is a 
 philosophy conditioned by sensation. The moral, intellec- 
 
 Fischer, 467. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 317 
 
 tual, spiritual part is shut up, and forever confined within 
 the circle of the senses. This is the most favorable view 
 of it. It is the philosophy of Locke. But this was far 
 from reaching the limit. Its legitimate results must follow. 
 This same part must become a mere modification of sensa- 
 tion, and thus constitute the materialism of the French 
 philosophers; or it merges ideas in the senses, thus con- 
 stituting the idealistic sensationalism of Berkeley. 
 
 Rationalistic Philosophy — Descartes^ Malebranche, Spinoza. 
 
 Having from the objective stand point traced sensualism, 
 the empirical philosophy, through its various phases into 
 its legitimate results, we now return to the first half of the 
 seventeenth century to view the other great foundation of all 
 philosophy, to contemplate idealism erecting its subjective 
 stand pointy and from it, developing the kationalistic philo- 
 sophy. This had its origin in the mind of a Frenchman. 
 
 Rene Descartes (Cartesius) was born in Touraine, of 
 Breton parents, in 1596, and died in 1650. Bacon was 
 thirty-five years old at the birth of Descartes, and the 
 latter had attained the age of thirty-six at the birth of 
 Locke and Spinoza. It will be seen, therefore, that the 
 great founders of the two philosophies were contempora- 
 ries. 
 
 It is well to bear in mind here at the outset that in pass- 
 ing from the philosophy of Bacon to that of Descartes, we 
 are to visit a new philosophy, and one so entirely difierent 
 from that almost contemporaneous in its origin, that it 
 might, without violence, have belonged to a difierent 
 planet. It was different in its stand point ; in its method, in 
 its processes, and in its objects. 
 
 The stand point of Bacon was the objective, the external 
 world, all the facts and processes of nature. That of Des- 
 cartes was the subjective, the mind, that living spiritual 
 organism which observes and reasons. 
 
318 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The method of Bacon was the inductive. That of Des- 
 cartes the deductive. 
 
 Bacon argued from effects to causes, from known to 
 unknown. Descartes deduced effects from causes explain- 
 ing phenomena by noumena. 
 
 They both cultivated physics, but for widely different 
 purposes. The object of Bacon in its cultivation was to 
 render it the basis of all the sciences, and to extend the 
 dominion of man over nature. That of Descartes was to 
 illustrate his own principles, and to enlarge man's know- 
 ledge of his own mind. 
 
 They both agreed in the separation of religion from 
 philosophy, but they differed in this, that the former 
 declared the problems of religion insoluble by reason, 
 and beyond the pale of philosophy, while the former 
 declared them soluble only by reason, and that it was 
 the first object of philosophy to give them a solution. 
 And yet both began by invoking substantially the same 
 spirit, the skeptical. Bacon insisted on rejecting all the^ 
 idols that had preoccupied the mind, upon commencing 
 the work of indirection upon sound and accurately scien- 
 tific principles. 
 
 Descartes would not only throw aside all idols but every- 
 thing else except the thinking principle. He began by 
 adopting the most sweeping skepticism. Every idea, every 
 portion of the mental furniture, was successively detached 
 and thrown away, until he reached the power that was at 
 work in rejecting, and that alone remained. He doubted 
 the truth and verity of everything until he arrived at the 
 thing that doubted, and there he was obliged to stop. His 
 object was to find a starting point-from which to reason, a 
 certainty that, under all circumstances, must be true and 
 absolute, and that he found in his own consciousness. 
 " Doubt as I may," says he, '' I cannot doubt my own 
 existence, because my very doubt reveals to me a some- 
 thing which doubts." Hence the " cogito, ergo sum," " I 
 think, therefore I am," lies at the foundation of the Carte- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 319 
 
 sian philosophy. This was purely psychological ; and, 
 although Locke commenced psychologically, yet he did not 
 continue and close in the same manner. But Descartes 
 preserved throughout the same principle. Thus, although 
 the first may be styled the father, yet the second is the 
 founder of modern psychology. 
 
 From this single proposition the whole nature of mind 
 was determined. It would follow that if existence is 
 identified with thinking and the one was only rendered 
 possible and provable by the other; hence the charac- 
 teristic of the mind must consist in thought. The mind 
 can have no extension, figure, or other quality of body. 
 Its sole element is the reason, intelligence, power of com- 
 prehension ; its sole essence, thought. 
 
 He had now found himself in his consciousness, and that 
 he could repose upon with certainty. But this alone 
 would never carry him beyond himself. Was he the only 
 being in the universe ? Was there nothing external to his 
 own thinking being ? 
 
 Descartes travels from himself into the external world 
 by means of consciousness. " Consciousness, " said he, " is 
 the basis of all knowledge ; it is the ground of absolute 
 certainty. Whatever it distinctly proclaims must be true. 
 The process, then, is simple.^ Examine your consciousness, 
 and its clear replies. All clear ideas are true. Whatever 
 is clearly and distinctly conceived is true." 
 
 Again, " we have no knowledge whatever of anything 
 external to us except through the medium of ideas. What- 
 ever we find in the ideas must necessarily be in the exter- 
 nal things. It is only in our minds that we can seek 
 whether things exist, or not. There cannot be more real- 
 ity in an effect than in a cause. The external thing, being 
 the cause of the idea, must therefore, possess as much real- 
 ity as the idea, and vice versa. So that whatever we con- 
 ceive as existent, exists." 
 
 Lewes, 371. 
 
320 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION, 
 
 As the reality, in fact the existence of things objective, 
 is made dependent upon ideas, it becomes important to 
 understand the rules for the detection of these ideas. He 
 lays down for that purpose the four following rules : 
 
 1. l^ever to accept anything as true, but what is evi- 
 dently so ; to admit nothing but what so clearly and dis- 
 tinctly presents itself as true, that there can be no reason 
 to doubt it. 
 
 2. To divide every question into as many separate ques- 
 tions as possible, that each part being more easily conceived, 
 the whole may be more intelligible. 
 
 3. To conduct the examination with order, beginning 
 by that of objects the most simple, and therefore the easiest 
 to be known, and ascending little by little, up to knowledge 
 of the most complex. 
 
 4. To make such exact calculations, and such circum- 
 spections, as to be confident that nothing essential has been 
 omitted.^ 
 
 Descartes appears to have had in view two great objects. 
 The one, the establishment of absolute certitude. This he 
 found in the consciousness of the thinking process ; the 
 other, the method by which this certitude could have all 
 possible application. 
 
 To understand what may have guided him to his 
 method, it is necessary to remark that he was a very dis- 
 tinguished mathematician.^ At the age of twenty-three, 
 he discovered the application of algebra to geometry. He 
 supposed the mathematics to contain an immense capacity 
 of application. He was deeply impressed with the certi- 
 tude of the mathematics, and conceived the idea of apply- 
 ing mathematical reasoning to the subject of metaphysics. 
 He imagined he discovered in them a certitude which 
 would correspond to the certitude of consciousness ; that 
 while the first would afford the ground, the second would 
 the method of the same certitude. 
 
 ^Lewes,^!^. ^Idem, d72. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 321 
 
 Hence the establishment of the deductive method of 
 Descartes. The premises having been furnished, the con- 
 clusions must now result from the deduction of conse- 
 quences,^ and this he would apply as well to physics as to 
 psychology; as he declares his intention ^'of giving a 
 short account of the principal phenomena of the world, not 
 with a view of using them as reasons to prove anything, 
 for" he adds "we desire to deduce effects from causes, not 
 causes from effects, but only in order that out of the innu- 
 merable effects which we learn to be capable of resulting 
 from the causes, we may determine our minds to consider 
 some rather than others." 
 
 And in accordance with this declaration he adopts, in 
 his physics, a method which allows him to set aside the 
 qualities and material forms of bodies, and to consider 
 only the relations of number, figure and motion, thus recog- 
 nizing in physics only mathematical problems, and thus 
 resulting in giving the mathematical side of physics. 
 
 Descartes recognizes three kinds of ideas, the acquired, 
 the self-originated, and the innate, comprehending under 
 the term idea " all that can be in our thoughts." Among 
 the innate he includes the idea of God,^ mind, body, 
 triangle, and generally all those which represent true, im- 
 mutable and eternal essences. From the innate ideas of 
 Descartes have grown the necessary truths of a more 
 modern philosophy. 
 
 Thus Decartes clearly recognized the doctrine that we 
 have ideas independent of experience, and this poin^ of 
 departure from the Baconian philosophy has for the most 
 part been adhered to in speculative philosophy. 
 
 The idea of God is adduced by Descartes both as an 
 argument to prove the existence of innate ideas and also 
 as one of the fruits of that doctrine. He claims that we 
 find within ourselves the idea of God. Whence comes the 
 idea? Clearly not from ourselves. We have a concep- 
 
 ^ Lewes, 4:73. ^ Idem, 2S2. ' 
 VI] 41 
 
322 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 tion of a nature higher than our own, and that conception 
 could only come from him whose nature is actually more 
 perfect. Again, we are finite. To the idea of God belongs 
 the infinite. Such an idea could only be given us through 
 or by a being actually infinite. It is an idea that could not 
 be derived from sense, for it is one that could neither be 
 added to nor diminiwshed. 
 
 Again, the conception of God must arise from a sense of 
 our own imperfection. The consciousness of existence is 
 as a being imperfect, finite, in all respects conditioned. 
 But consciousness also informs that this finite, limited, condi- 
 tioned being is not the all. The very existence of finitude, 
 imperfection, limitation, condition ality, necessarily imply 
 their correlatives, infinitude, perfection, the unconditioned. 
 Hence necessarily arises the idea of God. But, according 
 to Descartes an idea in the consciousness implies the ex- 
 istence out of it of the thing of which it is the idea. His 
 argument therefore, might be stated in the following 
 syllogism : ' 
 
 "All that we clearly and distinctly conceive as contained 
 in anything, is true of that thing.^ 
 
 "I^ow we can conceive, clearly and distinctly, that the 
 existence of God is contained in the idea we have of him. 
 Therefore God exists." But it is obvious that error is 
 intermingled with truth in all our ideas, and knowledge. 
 What guaranty, therefore, have we that the being we con- 
 ceive as perfect is really so ? To answer this it is necessary 
 to ask, whence comes error ? To this he answers that it can- 
 not come from the intelligence, as intelligence produces 
 ideas ; and no idea can be false,^ because then the idea of a 
 thingwouldnotcontain what it contained. Errors, therefore, 
 do not proceed from the understanding. They proceed from 
 the will, which being more extensive than the understand- 
 ing, is not restrained within the same limits, but is extended 
 to things beyond it, and hence is productive of errors. 
 
 Lewes, 376. ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 53. 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 323 
 
 Having fouDd in consciousness, self and God, the crea- 
 tor, a perfect being unmingled with error, because proceed- 
 ing from the intelligence, Descartes has found a road to 
 the creation. Still, his creator, being a creature of his own 
 conceptions, could put forth no other powers, and produce 
 no other results than such as he could make objects of con- 
 ception. Thus he was driven back to consciousness as a 
 revealer of creation. But he finds it adequate to the task. 
 
 He finds in his consciousness two sorts of ideas : the one 
 of thought, the other of extension, and to one of these two 
 categories belong all human ideas. The world then com- 
 prehends two classes of beings, each possessed of diflerent 
 natures, spirits and bodies. The peculiar and exclusive 
 characteristic of the first was thought; that of the second, 
 extension. This was the fundamental principle lying at 
 the bottom of all his theories, which naturally fell into two 
 divisions, the philosophy of spirits, and the philosophy of 
 bodies. 
 
 Descartes appears to have been aware of the difficalties, 
 that have so strongly pressed themselves upon other minds 
 arising from passing the limits of consciousness, and hence 
 of arriving at the understanding of bodies. He therefore 
 seeks to fortify, or rather ground, his position that '' whatever 
 we find in the ideas must necessarily be in the external 
 things," upon confidence in God. We find in our minds 
 the conviction of this identity of minds and things. An all 
 wise and all perfect being would not have planted such a 
 conviction there unless it w^as an absolute verity. Wehave 
 therefore his guaranty of its truth, and although, therefore, 
 the knowledge of bodies must rest upon belief, and that of 
 spirits upon conception, yet we can be equally as well as- 
 sured of the truth of the one as of the other. 
 
 His theories of spirits and bodies were correlative. 
 To spirits belong thought, which is essential; and will, 
 which is thought in motion.^ To bodies belong extension, 
 
 History of Philosophy, ii, 56. 
 
324 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 which is essential, and motion produced in it. Physical 
 philosophy is, then, and radically, the theory both of the 
 immutable properties of extension and of the changeable 
 properties which depend upon motion. Hence all explana- 
 tions of material phenomena ought to flow from mechanics, 
 and rest on the basis of mathematics. Making in this way 
 the universe a purely mechanical one, Decartes's philosophy, 
 alike with that of Bacon's, shut out entirely the considera- 
 tion of final causes. 
 
 Descartes gave a mighty extension to the mechanical 
 or natural philosophy. He included within it, all phe- 
 nomena not purely psychological. From the inorganic 
 universe he banished space, because the essence of sub- 
 stance, or bodies, being extension, wherever there is ex- 
 tension, there must necessarily be substance ; and hence 
 space is an impossibility. He rejected the idea of atoms, 
 and held to the infinite divisibility of matter, and along 
 with this, to its unlimited extension. Out of extension and 
 vacuum, and some other mechanical principles, he deduced 
 his theory of vortexes to account for planetary motions ; a 
 theory which disappeared soon after the discovery of gravi- 
 tation. 
 
 He brought the organic universe also under the princi- 
 ples of the mechanical philosophy. Animals are only au- 
 tomata,^ all their movements being referable to the laws 
 of motion. He also brought the organic life of man 
 under the same principles, allowing the sensations and 
 passions their seat in the spiritual principle, but referring 
 their physical causes to the general theory of mechanics. 
 
 There are, at least, two difficulties discoverable in the 
 philosophy of Descartes ; the one growing out of an as- 
 sumption of his ; the other, an unavoidable conclusion from 
 his own premises. The assumption is that before alluded 
 to, that "whatever we find in the ideas, must necessarily be 
 in the external things. This he grounds upon two reasons : 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, ii, 57, 58. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 325 
 
 1. The evidence of consciousness. 
 
 2. The guaranty of God. 
 
 In regard to the first, consciousness furnishes no evidence 
 whatever as to the reality of external things. It can only 
 furnish evidence of the state and condition of our own 
 thinking being. The shining of the sun is no part of our 
 consciousness. I^o part of the external world at all enters 
 into it. It lies wholly outside of it. 
 
 The guaranty of God is by a being of our own concep- 
 tion, and of his existence we can no more be conscious 
 than of that of the external world. The guaranty there- 
 fore falls with the ability of the guarantor. 
 
 As to the other, the conclusion, that arises out of the 
 distinctness and entirely separate nature of his two philo- 
 sophies. If body is essentially extension, and mind essen- 
 tially thought, and the two have nothing in common with 
 each other, then this dualistic relation between body and 
 mind must extend to body and soul, and the union between 
 them can be conceived only as a mechanical one. Each is 
 an independent factor, distinct from and even opposed to 
 the other, their only union can be a powerful bringing of 
 the two together. Being distinct, independent, and even 
 opposed, they cannot interpenetrate each other, but can 
 touch only at one point when they are thus brought 
 together. This point of contact, this seat of the soul, is, 
 according to Descartes, the pineal gland, a little kernel 
 near the middle of the brain.^ He selected this for the 
 reason, that the other parts of the brain are two-fold, and 
 if the soul had its seat in any of them all objects would 
 appear double. As this gland appeared a unit in its con- 
 struction, Descartes assigned to it the seat of the soul, the 
 place where all our thinking is performed. 
 
 Mcolas Malebranche was born at Paris, in 1638, and 
 died in 1715. We can only here consider him as a link in 
 
 e, 178. 
 
326 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the chain of development of the Cartesian philosophy. He 
 starts with the Cartesian view of the relation between mind 
 and matter, regarding the two as separate, distinct, and 
 opposed to each other. He then asked the same question, 
 which Descartes had attempted to answer, viz : how, if 
 there be this perfect distinctness and opposition, nothing 
 existing between them in common, can the mind travel 
 out of, or beyond itself, and make any acquaintance with 
 matter ? It can certainly neither gain any knowledge of 
 external things from itself, nor from the things themselves. 
 ]^ot from itself because it cannot idealize, cannot over- 
 come the opposition existing between it and external 
 things. 'Not from external things, because they, composed 
 of matter, are antithetic to mind, and absolutely unintelli- 
 gible. There is no power, therefore, in either to act or 
 react upon the other. But there is a power superior to 
 both, and to which neither has any opposition. That 
 power is God, absolute substance, absolute ideality, the 
 infinite power to spiritualize all things. In him are all 
 things spiritually and ideally. The whole world, as intel- 
 lectual or ideal, is God. His doctrine is, that " it is in and 
 through the divinity that we apprehend all things,^ which 
 are comprehended intellectually in his essence; that the 
 divinity is the intellectual world; infinite and universal 
 reason, and the abode of spirits. By the doctrine of occa- 
 sionalism he was further led to assign to the soul and body 
 a sort of passive activity, and to represent the deity as the 
 original cause of all their operations. 
 
 Thus to overcome the dualism bequeathed to philosophy 
 by Descartes, Malebranche identified the entire ideal or in- 
 tellectual world with God, and when reminded that if we 
 see the archetypes of all things in God,^ there was no need 
 of a material world, and why, therefore, should its existence 
 be assumed? He replied by referring to that statement in 
 revelation, that " In the beginning God created the heaven 
 and the earth." 
 
 Tenneman, 330. '^ Morell, 133. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 327 
 
 The same year, 1632, tliat witnessed the birth of John 
 Locke, was also signalized by the birth of Bariich or Bene- 
 dict Spinoza, who w^as a Jew, born at Amsterdam, and died 
 in 1677. 
 
 Spinoza, like Malebranche, began with Descartes. As 
 the materialistic school, and, when rightly understood, the 
 Berkelian also, were only the strict and logical develop- 
 ments of the Baconian philosophy ; so also were the systems 
 of Malebranche and Spinoza, that of the Cartesian. It re- 
 quired the full development of both these philosophies to 
 prepare the way for the skepticism of Hume. 
 
 Descartes had derived everything from one principle, 
 that of perfection in the great cause. He had left a fatal 
 dualism with spirit and its thought, and body with its 
 extension, standing over against, and in opposition to each 
 other, with the equivocal term substance equally belong- 
 ing to both, the one being a thinking, the other an exten- 
 sion substance. Spinoza claimed that perfection, thought 
 and extension were nothing more than attributes and that 
 the substance in which they inhered was one, was absolute 
 existence. 
 
 Descartes entertained the idea that the mathematical 
 method might be applied to metaphysics. Spinoza actu- 
 ally made the application, and his system presents itself as 
 the result of this method thus applied. As geometry has 
 its definitions, axioms, propositions and scholia, so has the 
 system of Spinoza. 
 
 This system rests upon three fmidamental conceptions, 
 from which, granting the truth of his definitions, axioms 
 and propositions, it is deduced with mathematical certainty. 
 These conceptions are substance, attribute, and mode. 
 
 Substance he defines to be " that which exists in itself, 
 and is conceived per se, the conception of which does not 
 require the conception of anything else antecedent to it." 
 Descartes had defined it to be '' that which needs nothing 
 else in order to its existence." Thus Spinoza starts from 
 Descartes. 
 
328 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Atribute, he defines to be "that which the mind per- 
 ceives as constituting the very essence of substance." 
 
 By modes, he understands " the accidents of substance ; 
 or that which is in something else, through which also it is 
 conceived." ^ 
 
 By God, he understands " a being absolutely infinite ; 
 i. e., the substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of 
 which expresses an infinite and eternal essence." 
 
 By being free, he understands " that which exists by the 
 sole necessity of its nature, and by itself alone is determined 
 to action. And that is necessary or constrained, which 
 owes its existence to another, and acts according to certain 
 and determinate causes." 
 
 By a thing which is its own cause, he understands a 
 thing, " the essence of which involves existence, or the 
 nature of which can only be considered as existent." 
 
 Specimens of axioms : " Everything which is, is in it- 
 self, or in some other thing." " That which cannot be 
 conceived through another, must be conceived through 
 itself." " The knowledge of an effect depends on the 
 knowledge of the cause, and implies it." " Things that 
 have nothing in common with each other, cannot be under- 
 stood by means of each other." '' A true idea must agree 
 with its object." 
 
 Specimens of propositions : '' Substance is prior in na- 
 ture to its accidents." " Two substances having different 
 attributes, have nothing in common with each other." 
 " Of things which have nothing in common, one cannot 
 be the cause of the other." " If they have nothing in 
 common, they cannot be conceived by means of each 
 other." " Things are distinguished among themselves, 
 either through the diversity of their attributes, or through 
 the diversity of their modes." " It is impossible that there 
 should be two or more substances of the same nature, or of 
 the same attributes. " One substance cannot be created 
 
 ^Lewes, 398. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 329 
 
 by another substance." ^'It pertains to the nature of 
 substance to exist." '' All substance is necessarily in- 
 finite." 
 
 Spinoza's doctrine is derived from his definitions, axioms 
 and propositions. He held to one infinite substance, and 
 that he called God.^ Whatever is, is God ; and without 
 him nothing can be conceived. He is the sole substance, 
 the universal being, of which all things are the manifesta- 
 tions. This god is the god of the pantheist, and his 
 nature should be fully understood. 
 
 1. He is free, for there is nothing to limit his power. 
 But to this freedom there is no volition, no act of self- wil- 
 ling. It consists only in eternally unfolding his own 
 essential being, without obstruction or restraint. 
 
 2. He has infinite extension, and yet that implies no- 
 thing material. It is rather pure abstract extension. A 
 power in posse, and not necessarily carried out into act. 
 
 3. God is eternally thinking, and yet without ideas, 
 without the fiow of consciousness, without understanding in 
 its ordinary meaning. Again, as he unites in himself both 
 subject and object, the being thinking and thought upon, 
 his only object of contemplation can be himself. 
 
 4. He is not a creating god, but he is being itself, an 
 unchangeable essence, underlying all phenomena. As 
 being, and the subject of necessary development, he has 
 attributes; and these attributes are two in number and 
 both infinite, as they are only modifications of the same 
 infinite substance. These attributes are infinite thought 
 and infinite extension. These attributes involve an infi- 
 nite number of finite determinations, and these determina- 
 tions constitute the phenomenal world. 
 
 Thus the god of Spinoza is exhibited under two aspects : 
 1. As the eternal substance, the natura naturans, the 
 absolute, containing all things potentially in his own infi- 
 nite nature.^ 
 
 'Lewes, 40^. ^Morell, 127. 
 VI] 42 
 
380 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 2. As this same substance in actual development, the 
 natura naturata, absolute being, expanding itself into an 
 infinite number of finite determinations, embracing all the 
 modifications of thought and extension which the universe 
 presents. Thus everything is a mode of God's attribute of ^ 
 extension ; every thought, of his attribute of thought. 
 
 Thus body and soul are one and the same thing, only 
 viewed under different attributes. Mind is the same as 
 body, only being viewed under the attribute of thought, it 
 is regarded as mind.^ That which in one point of view is 
 bodily motion, in another is an act of thought. Between 
 the world of bodily things and that of ideas, reigns the 
 most perfect parallelism. 
 
 But while body and soul are regarded as different attri- 
 butes of the same substance,^ individual beings are compre- 
 hended under the conception of accidents or modes, these 
 latter being only the changing forms of substance. The 
 finite has no existence as such, only as a mode of the infi- 
 nite. And yet substance is not regarded as being made 
 up of modes. 
 
 Spinoza reckons two ways of knowledge : the imagina- 
 tion, and the reason. To the former belong experience, 
 and all that is abstract, superficial, and confused.^ To the 
 latter, the collection of all fi,tting ideas. The former iso- 
 lates and individualizes, while the latter comprehends things 
 in their unity. Hence mere accidents or modes are viewed 
 by the former as things, by the latter simply as modes of 
 the one eternal substance. 
 
 The morals and politics of Spinoza fiowed directly from 
 his metaphysics, and were in harmony with his general 
 system. There could obviously, upon his principle, be 
 no such thing as free will, as man is only a mode, and 
 hence, like every other, a link in the chain of causes 
 eternally conditioning each other. Good and evil are 
 not qualities in the things themselves, but only express 
 
 188. Udem, 189. ^ Idem, 189. 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 331 
 
 relative conceptions formed from a comparison of things 
 with each other.^ 
 
 As the absolute being, the god of Spinoza can exercise 
 no volition, he can give birth to no law; and hence, in no 
 moral sense, can there be such a thing as evil or sin. 
 Hence Spinoza defines good to be that which is useful to 
 us ; and evil that which hinders us from partaking of a 
 good. Again, "that is only useful to us which aids us in 
 knowing, as our true being is knowledge." 
 
 In politics he maintained that everything which is com- 
 monly designated by the name of rights is reduced to the 
 notion of force,^ and tb at justice relatively to each being, 
 can be conceived only as the measure of his power. As 
 all idea of volition, of free will, of law, is utterly excluded 
 from his system, it would necessarily follow that right 
 could be the only correlate of power, and could never be 
 really violated except by a deficiency of might. This would 
 lead to the inevitable result, the only one his system could 
 tolerate, viz : the object of all government is the exercise 
 of force, and all law is limitation. 
 
 Thus we have the extremes of sensualism and idealism ; 
 the one represented by Hobbes, the other by Spinoza, 
 meeting in their politics, each being results of their different 
 systems.^ The first sets out from the diversity of human 
 individuals as naturally hostile, the second from their 
 absolute identity. The first excludes from his social theory 
 all notion of the infinite element, the ground of the principle 
 of moral obligation; the second, all notion of finite beings, 
 subjects of these obligations. The result was that both 
 were compelled by their respective systems to construct 
 the politics of force, which in the system of Hobbes cul- 
 minated in pure despotism ; in that of Spinoza, in pure 
 anarchy. 
 
 The way was now thoroughly prepared for Hume. The 
 Baconian philosophy had achieved its two possible limits, 
 
 ^ Schwegle, 190. ' History of Philosophy, ii, 76. ' Idem, 76, 
 
332 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 materialism, and idealistic sensualism. The Cartesian had 
 also reached its two limits, that of seeing all things in God, 
 and that of seeing God in all things. Both were idealistic 
 limits,^ for Spinoza expressly teaches that the subjective 
 idea is the actual image or complete expression of the ob- 
 jective fact; that the order and connection of ideas is 
 precisely the order and connection of things. The one, 
 therefore, having buried itself in realism, and the other in 
 idealism, we must invoke the skepticism of Hume to erect 
 their monuments. 
 
 Skepticism — Hume. Monadology — Leibnitz. 
 
 David Hume was a Scotchman, born at Edinburgh in 
 1711, and died in 1776. He followed in the wake of Berke- 
 ley and was the precursor of Kant. His connection with 
 idealism is twofofd : 1. In the method of philosophizing, 
 viz : by deduction. 2. In the abolition of that ego out of 
 which arises the subjective standpoint of its philosophy. 
 
 His connection with sensualism is also twofold: 1. In 
 his starting point, and in his derivation from it all there is 
 of the positive in his philosophy, all except his negations. 
 3. In the abolition of that material universe, out of which 
 arises the objective stand point of its philosophy. 
 
 According to Hume, all our representations are either 
 sensuous impressions or their copies. Their only distinc- 
 tion is in degree, according as they are stronger or weaker, 
 more or less lively.^ Those existing in the strongest de- 
 gree, being the liveliest, are the impressions themselves ; 
 the weaker are the thoughts or ideas. The impressions 
 are the originals, the ideas are the copies, and the latter, 
 without exception, are deduced from the former. There 
 is no idea that did originate from an impression, and hence 
 the idea must be related to the impression as the copy to 
 the original. The explanation of the idea, therefore, con- 
 
 LeiDes,4:ll. ^ Fischer, 4:69. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 333 
 
 sists in showing its impression, as our impressions are the 
 originals of all our representations. Thus, according to 
 Hume, the whole fabric of knowledge is to he built out of 
 impressions and ideas, and no idea is to be received that 
 cannot be traced to an impression. 
 
 This constituted the positive, the dogmatic portion of his 
 philosophy, at least according to his own view of it, and in 
 this respect he appears as the systematizer of experience. 
 But only grant to him the truth of what he thus posits 
 with so much apparent plausibility. His deductions will 
 lead logically to the annihilation of the material universe ; 
 of the thinking subject; of the relation of cause and effect, 
 and through that, of all knowledge. 
 
 He found the material world already annihilated. That 
 had been the mission of Berkeley. It also followed as a clear 
 deduction from his own positions. There is nothing exist- 
 ing but impressions and ideas, the latter being derived 
 from, and copies of the former. The material universe, if it 
 exist at all, must lie behind the impressions, and must fur- 
 nish the originals of which the latter must be copies. Of 
 the existence of these there is not a particle of proof. But 
 supposing there are, by possibility, such originals, a know- 
 ledge of them would only become possible, if clear impres- 
 sions of them existed in ourselves.^ But how can we 
 know this? We can only know it by means of an impres- 
 sion, and there is none that decides on the clearness of 
 an impression, or the relation between an impression and 
 a thing. There is, therefore, no criterion which can SBcure 
 the objectivity of our ideas. If, therefore, there be any 
 knowledge, its objects are only ideas, which themselves 
 are nothing but copies of impressions. Thus we only com- 
 prehend our impressions, not the objective nature of 
 things. There can, therefore, be no objective knowledge. 
 
 This was the sensualistic phase of his reasoning. But 
 the rationalistic was substantially of the same character, 
 
 ' Fischer, 470. 
 
334 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 and resulted in the negation of the thinking subject. Of 
 that subject there could be no impression, and hence no 
 idea. All that we have any experience of, is impressions 
 and ideas." ^ The substance of which these are supposed to 
 be impressions, is a mere inference. The substance in 
 which these impressions are supposed to be, is a mere 
 inference. Matter is but a collection of impressions. 
 Mind is but a succession of impressions and ideas." In 
 accordance with this doctrine, philosophy has thus written 
 the epitaph inscribed upon the tomb of Hume: 
 
 Beneath this round idea vulgarly called tomb, 
 
 Rest the ideas and impressions that constituted Hume. 
 
 But there was still another deduction, which he made 
 from his positions, which constitutes his theory of causa- 
 tion. In accordance with his system, he asks what is the 
 impression of which the idea of causality is a copy ? He 
 claims that every impression is a fact that we perceive, 
 but that the connection between facts we do not perceive. 
 There is no impression the copy of which could be the 
 idea of causality. We have no other experience of causa- 
 tion than simply that of a constant succession. We have 
 an antecedent and a consequent, and that is all. We do, 
 indeed, attribute to the antecedent a power of causing the 
 consequent, but we have no experience, no idea of such a 
 power. We can never perceive any quality that binds the 
 effect to the cause, and renders the one an infallible conse- 
 quence to the other. We only find that the one does in 
 fact follow the other. This is the whole that appears to 
 the outward senses. The mind feels no sentiment or 
 inward impression from this succession of objects. Conse- 
 quently there is not, in any single instance of cause and 
 effect, anything which can suggest the idea of power or 
 necessary connection. 
 
 Leims, 481. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 335 
 
 Bacon placed all knowledge in the knowledge of causes, 
 and it is quite obvious that therein is garnered up all em- 
 pirical knowledge. We are driven to this dilemma by 
 Hume, viz : either to give up as impossible, and regard as 
 utterly incomprehensible, all our empirical knowledge to- 
 gether with causality, or we must deduce this idea from an 
 impression. But this impression is nowhere given. 
 
 But our belief in the existence of the power is admitted 
 by Hume. What then is the foundation of that belief? 
 It is custom, habit. And thus Hume solves the problem 
 of knowledge.^ All human knowledge is either demonstra- 
 tive, as in the case of mathematics, or empirical. All 
 empirical knowledge consists in the causal connection of 
 facts. The idea of causalty is founded on a belief, this 
 belief upon a feeling, this feeling upon a habit, which itself 
 consists in nothing else than an oft repeated experience. 
 Consequently, there is no knowledge that is objective and 
 necessary. Thus beyond experience there can be no 
 knowledge whatever, and within experience it is limited by 
 custom and habit. And these latter can never prove. 
 They only induce belief. They are the basis of all human 
 thought and action. Hence Hume calls custom " the great 
 guide of human life." What Schiller puts into the mouth 
 of Wallenstein very clearly, in this respect, expresses the 
 philosophy of Hume : 
 
 What we have most to dread 
 Is common place, perpetual yesterday, 
 That ever warning, ever still returns ; 
 Potent to-morrow, through its force to-day, 
 For man of common places is compact, 
 And to his nurse the name of custom gives. 
 
 Hume's philosophy had, however, at least one positive 
 result; a result that did not consist in negation. By thus 
 giving efiect to the force of custom, he renders man a 
 
 • Fischer, 478. 
 
336 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 creature of history. What Wallenstein is again made to 
 
 say: 
 
 There is a sanctifying power in years 
 What age has rendered gray, appears divine. 
 
 He therefore attacks the " social contract " doctrine pro- 
 pounded by Hobbes and Rousseau, as the foundation of 
 society and government. Such a contract, according to 
 Hume, is opposed to all historical experience and possibility. 
 In order to have any validity, it must presuppose a human 
 community, or some form of existence similar to a state.^ 
 Before men could have been united by an express contract 
 they must already have been united by necessity. Hence 
 in the place of a contract Hume puts custom. 
 
 It has been shown by Dr. Fischer that in regard to the 
 matter of custom Hume reasoned in a circle. " How, " he 
 asks, "did Hume explain experience? By the idea of 
 causality,^ which connects our impressions. And how 
 how did he explain this idea? By custom. And how 
 this ? By oft repeated experience. Thus Hume explains 
 experience by experience. He presupposes what he has 
 to explain. He therefore thinks dogmatically, and com- 
 mits the very fault which the skeptics of antiquity had 
 remarked in the dogmatic philosophers." 
 
 Whatever there is of the positive in Hume's philosophy 
 flows from his negations. In politics, as we have already 
 seen, he would ground everything upon custom. He is 
 an enemy to all revolutions, as they come to a direct 
 rupture with custom. All forms of government rest upon 
 usage. Even hoary abuses are sanctioned by custom. 
 Hence he was consistently a tory in politics. 
 
 His moral philosophy bears traces of the same origin. 
 There being in the universe nothing but impressions and 
 ideas, would exclude the existence of a God. Besides, the 
 only possible method and that of very doubtful success by 
 
 Fischer, 486. ^ Idem, 494. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 337 
 
 which the empirical philosophy can claim to prove the 
 existence of a supreme being, is by carrying out his system 
 of inductive reasoning, and thus arriving at God as the 
 last generalization of cause. But Hume denies the exist- 
 ence of any cause in the sense in which it is used in the 
 empirical philosophy, viz : as a power in one thing or 
 being to produce another. Thus the existence of God is 
 effectually negatived. 
 
 l!^or is the doctrine of immortality less effectually dis- 
 posed of. As there is nothing existing but impressions 
 and ideas, what is termed the soul, or spiritual part, must 
 be made up of them entirely. But all these are evanescent. 
 They fade away and disappear. They come and go in 
 succession, and hence there can be no such thing as im- 
 mortality. 
 
 The negation of God, and immortality, and the limita- 
 tion of all existence to impressions and ideas, necessarily 
 destroys all high moral sources, and dwarfs morality itself, 
 to that which is little, if at all, elevated above mere expe- 
 diency. As man's entire being is limited necessarily 
 within the sphere of sensations,^ he can have no other 
 reasonable motive of action, than the notion of his own 
 personal interest ; and, as the idea of virtue implies some- 
 thing distinct from selfishness, it can have no principle in 
 the intelligence. Virtue can proceed only from a senti- 
 ment destitute of all rational motive, and which Hume 
 considers analogous to taste. But even this sentiment, 
 on his system, can have no foundation which the reason 
 can conceive, and hence, the only resource here, is skep- 
 ticism. 
 
 As to free will, as a moral element, going to experience, 
 we feel very clearly that we will, but we feel nothing fur- 
 ther. Internal experience, which establishes the fact of 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, ii, 47. 
 VI] 43 
 
338 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATIOIS . 
 
 volition, can teach us nothing in regard to the origin of 
 the fact which is attributed to a free power. 
 
 There is another objection to freedom of will which can 
 be urged by the sensualistic philosophy, but not by Hume, 
 viz : that the notion of freedom itself is contradictory in 
 this, that a free choice is not possible without motives ; and 
 every determining motive, is, in the last analysis, only a 
 stronger sensation, which necessarily constrains the will. 
 As this will be perceived to include the idea of cause, of 
 efficient power to produce, it cannot, of course, be available 
 to Hume. 
 
 The system of Hume brings us to the termination of one 
 great cycle in the history of philosophy. It lasts from 
 about the beginning of the seventeenth, to near the middle 
 of the eighteenth century. During this period, sensual- 
 ism, from its objective stand point, and with its inductive 
 method, had marched onward, giving origin, efficiency, 
 and reliability, to the physical sciences ; sowing its path- 
 way with evidences of man's achievements in overcoming 
 the obstacles interposed by nature, by the subdued powers 
 and agencies which nature herself affi^rded ; until, in one 
 extreme it merged psychology in physiology, mind in 
 matter, ending in a pure and imbruted materialism ; 
 while in the other, it shook off the material world, and 
 sought a refuge in idealistic sensation. 
 
 On the other side, idealism from its subjective stand 
 point, and with its deductive method, had also marched 
 onward, exhibiting as its trophies, the mathematics greatly 
 enlarged, improved, and rendered susceptible of new appli- 
 cations, and a deductive logic in exercise clear, vigorous 
 and conclusive; until mind, unable to lean on matter, had 
 wandered away into the depths of pantheism, and finally 
 found its grave in the skepticism of Hume. Thus these 
 two great systems had each accomplished its destined work, 
 and they had been enabled to do so by working separately 
 and independent of each other. Neither had accomplished 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 339 
 
 anything in the way of self-explanation. Each had ran its 
 cycle of effort, and ended either as it began, or worse. 
 The riddle had only become deeper and more inexplica- 
 ble, with all the attempts to explain it. But while each 
 line of effort was thus barren and unproductive in its own 
 self-explication, its outcrops were everywhere fruitful, and 
 everywhere furnishing evidence of progress. The sciences, 
 both physical and exact, or mathematical, had taken their 
 points of departure from each line of march, opening up 
 long vistas to the delighted vision, and furnishing unfail- 
 ing supplies to human civilization. Thus, again, as in the 
 cycle that closed the irregular and more unsystematic efforts 
 at thinking of the middle ages, we find in the bare efforts of 
 philosophy at self-explication, nothing but a scaffolding, 
 upon and by means of which, other, and enduring struc- 
 tures, have been reared. While the structures are received, 
 the scaffolding is knocked away, and consigned to oblivion. 
 
 It is easy now in the light of history to detect the reason 
 why each one of these systems has accomplished so little 
 for itself. It was because each adopted, and throughout 
 adhered to, its own principle, stand point and method ; 
 claiming its sufficiency to explain itself and everything 
 else. But each principle, stand point, and method, 
 although containing the truth, yet did not contain all the 
 truth, and hence when put forward as containing all, be- 
 came error. Thus each being in point of fact, narrow, 
 partial, and one-sided, but at the same time claiming to 
 be broad, entire, and complete, in its expositions, failed as 
 a necessary consequence. 
 
 Again, between each there was at the commencement, 
 and continued through the entire course, to be a fatal 
 dualism. They were entirely unlike and opposite in prin- 
 ciple, stand point, and method, and neither contained within 
 itself any resources by which to pass over and include the 
 other. As there is confessedly truth in each, but that 
 only partial, limited, one-sided^ and as each when fully 
 
340 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 carried out, and having all its interior principles developed, 
 ends where it began and accomplishes nothing for itself, 
 it is obvious that the line of effort must be changed in 
 order to its becoming productive. 
 
 And that line of effort is accordingly changed. Hitherto 
 vre have witnessed sensualism and idealism, each with its 
 separate and independent lines of effort, working out in 
 its own way its results, and ending where it began. Each 
 now having all its principles brought out and fully deve- 
 loped, what now remains is to reconcile each with the 
 other, and to construct a philosophy of such breadth and 
 comprehensiveness, as to embrace and include all the true 
 and living principles in each, in such a manner as that 
 each principle shall have assigned its appropriate place, and 
 all shall, in the end interpenetrate, coalesce, and harmonize 
 with each other. Such is hereafter to be the line of effort, 
 and the completion of some future cycle in the history of 
 philosophy will, it is to be hoped, witness its accomplishment. 
 . Even the mind of the great Lord Bacon reached forward 
 and anticipated these different philosophies. He saw 
 clearly the error both of the pure sensualists and the pure 
 rationalists, and thus characterizes them by a happy com- 
 parison. The empirics, who derive everything from sensa- 
 tion, he compares to the ant, which, by an ever busy 
 industry employs itself in heaping up and using what it 
 finds. These are the philosophers who never rise above 
 what they receive through sense. The rationalists he com- 
 pares to the spider, which, resorting to nothing exterior to 
 itself, spins its web out of its own bowels. These are the 
 philosophers who deal in a priori s, who ignore facts and 
 experiences, and resort to the pure reason alone. The true 
 philosophers he compares to the bee, which gathers mate- 
 rial from all flowers, and by a power within itself, changes 
 its character, and converts it into honey. 
 
 The line of effort just referred to has been hitherto de- 
 veloping itself in three different directions; and has en- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 341 
 
 listed in its prosecution three orders of mind, three different 
 nationalities. These are the German, Scottish, and French. 
 The German gives us monadology and the critical phi- 
 losophy; the Scottish, the school of common sense; and the 
 French, the eclectic 
 
 Of these the first in order is the monadology of Leibnitz, 
 and as this precedes the skepticism of Hume, it will be 
 proper to give it the first consideration, following it up with 
 the Scottish, German, and French schools, or systems of 
 philosophy. 
 
 Gottfried William Leibnitz was born at Leipsic in 1646, 
 and died in 1716. He was the contemporary of Locke, 
 Malebranche and Spinoza, immediately succeeding Bacon 
 and Descartes. His life was, therefore, cast in a period 
 when the elements both of the sensualistic, and idealistic 
 systems of philosophy were in state of intense activity, but 
 previously to their final results being worked out in the 
 materialistic schools of France, and the skepticism of 
 Berkeley and Hume. But at this early period he conceived 
 the idea of a broader and more complete philosophy which 
 should unite and harmonize the two systems. In the order 
 of time he is the first great German philosopher, possessing 
 a mind of vast capacity, and whose thoughts have largely 
 influenced all subsequent thinking. 
 
 Leibnitz entirely differed from Locke in his position that 
 there is nothing in the understanding which did not first 
 pass through the senses, claiming that there was the under- 
 standing itself, the innate faculty of forming ideas, and 
 also necessary truths both in mathematics and philosophy,^ 
 that were never derived from experience; and that these 
 were the primary sources or elements of human knowledge. 
 
 He also differed from Descartes principally in this, that 
 the former had limited himself to giving extension as the 
 
 Morell, 147< 
 
342 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 only essential quality of bodies, assuming that the natural 
 state of bodies was that of repose, and that motion came 
 not from the activity of any internal principle, but from 
 forces acting without. The great principle of Leibnitz, on 
 the contrary, and that which lay at the foundation of all 
 Ms philosophy,^ was that " one substance cannot receive 
 from any other the power of acting, but that the whole 
 force is preexistent in itself." 
 
 Setting out from the necessary laws of the understand- 
 ing, he claimed that all philosophical truth must arise from 
 the analysis of the primary ideas they involve, and that 
 the pure a priori conceptions of the reason are the only 
 ideas which are adequate to the full expression of the ob- 
 jective reality to which they answer. The ideas derived 
 through the senses are contingent, limited, confused, and 
 inadequate. To distinguish those of the pure reason from 
 those of the senses he proposed, as a test of the former, 
 the principle of identity and contradiction, and of the 
 later, that of sufficient reason. By the first, he proposed 
 to test all those ideas which arise from the necessary laws 
 of thought ; and by the last, everything relating to the con- 
 tingencies of life. He means by it the determination of 
 what has the most perfect adaptation to bring about the 
 best results, and then judge of everything by its final cause. 
 
 Leibnitz was a great mathematician, and investigated 
 the possibility of a universal language, which might repre- 
 sent the discoveries in art and science in much the same 
 way that arithmetical and algebraic signs express the pro- 
 portions of numbers. His speculations in philosophy are 
 principally embraced in his monadology, his preestablished 
 harmony, and his optimism. 
 
 MoNADOLoaY, the doctrine of monads, was at its founda- 
 tion, an hypothesis, but unfortunately one not susceptible 
 
 'Marel^Ul. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 343 
 
 of verification. The object of its author was to account, 
 by means of it, for the actual phenomena of the universe. 
 Descartes had given to matter the property of extension, 
 and considered all motion as communicated, as, therefore, 
 coming from without, and hence making the universe itself 
 one great mechanism, and its movements governed by 
 mechanical laws. Leibnitz evoked a force from within, 
 and governed its movements upon dynamical principles. 
 Hence the origin of the monad. 
 
 The monad was a simple being, indivisible, unextended, 
 immaterial, and hence not exposed to any influences from 
 without, and being indissoluble, can never perish. Inas- 
 much as movements do take place perpetually, the force 
 must come from within, and hence the law that "all monads 
 must contain an inward energy, by virtue of which they 
 develop themselves spontaneously." 
 
 The monads are not all alike,^ but each possesses its own 
 inward attributes, by virtue of which its own particular 
 being is developed. Those which compose material objects 
 are in a state of stupor, arising from an undeveloped 
 power of perception. Others are possessed of a less or 
 greater power of perception and consciousness, indistinct in 
 animals, but distinct in the souls of men. God is the one 
 absolute, original monad, giving origin to all the others, 
 and whose existence we are, by the laws of our being, 
 necessitated to admit. 
 
 'No one monad exerts any specific influence upon 
 another, aod each one is so constructed as to imply lnulti- 
 plicity in unity.^ All come under the law of change, and 
 each monad, to be subject to this law, must contain within 
 itself a plurality of susceptibilities, modifications, and rela- 
 tions. Each, therefore, is a microcosm, a living image of 
 the whole universe. Its internal principle of force is sus- 
 ceptible of indefinite development and variation. As it is 
 
 ^Morell, 149. "" History of Philosophy, 11, 84, 85. 
 
344 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 not composed of parts, such variation is unlimited. So, 
 also, as it is simple, its development is without a limit. It 
 therefore, must contain within itself the capacity of all 
 modes of possible being, and hence is itself a representa- 
 tive of the whole universe. 
 
 Thus far in the doctrine of the monads, it is obvious 
 that there is no union between the subjective and objec- 
 tive. We have not yet passed beyond the limits of the 
 subjective. Our path from the subjective to the objective 
 is through the absolute, original monad, God. 
 
 God is a being whose logical possibility implies his 
 actual existence. He is the prime monad, the unity of 
 unities,^ and all the others are produced by his perpetual 
 flashings, as of lightning, and which have no other limita- 
 tion than the receptivity of creatures. The same thing that 
 exists in created monads, exists without limits in the un- 
 created monad. As there exists in monads a force which 
 is the foundation of all their activities, so there exists in 
 the supreme monad a power which is the source of all 
 things. As there is in each monad inward attributes, a 
 schema which determines their own peculiar character, 
 so there is in the supreme monad a schema of ideas. And 
 as there is in each monad an internal appetency which 
 makes it pass from one state to another, tending to its 
 greatest good, so in the supreme monad is there a good 
 will which is moved by the motive of the greatest good. 
 
 This hypothesis of monads enabled Leibnitz to find in 
 the universe the most complete unity with the most ex- 
 tended variety.^ As the evolutions of each monad were 
 adapted to those of all the others, the most perfect unity 
 would be the necessary result. But each monad, at the 
 same time, by its own internal constitution, reflects, in its 
 own point of view, the whole universe, there results the 
 greatest possible variety. The universe, though essentially 
 
 ' History of Philosophy, ii, 89. ^ Idem, 92. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 345 
 
 one, is thus multiplied by the different points of view fur- 
 nished by the innumerable monads. Thus, as a conse- 
 quence of this, on the one hand everything is animated, 
 since nothing exists but monads, whose very essence is 
 activity. On the other hand, each monad, being in itself 
 the representative of all nature, is constantly modified by 
 its internal activity, as if it received the echo of everything 
 that passes in the universe to the farthest limits of creation. 
 
 But there was still a difficulty in carrying out the mon- 
 adological hypothesis of Leibnitz, which rendered necessary 
 still another hypothesis. In the system of Descartes there 
 was a fatal dualism between mind and matter, each being 
 referred to a different substance. This was avoided by 
 Leibnitz, as he had reduced mind and matter to the same 
 essence ; the former being represented by conscious, and 
 the latter by unconscious, monads. But still the monads 
 composing matter, and those composing mind, differ to- 
 tally from each other, and the principle had long been 
 acknowledged that two substances entirely differing from 
 each other, can exert no mutual influence.^ Hence each order 
 of monads, the mental and the material, must be held to 
 contain the laws of its own development, and to fulfill its 
 own purposes independent of the other. To connect the 
 two together he was, therefore, under the necessity of ori- 
 ginating another hypothesis, which, unfortunately, like 
 the monadological, was incapable of verification. 
 
 This was the hypothesis of the preestablished harmony. 
 According to this hypothesis, the human mind and the hu- 
 man body are two independent, but corresponding machines. 
 The former consisting of self-conscious monads, and the 
 latter, of aggregations of simple monads ; each act solely 
 according to their own internal force ; the former as if 
 there were no body in existence, and the latter, as if there 
 were no mind. The hypothesis of Leibnitz is, that there 
 
 'Morell, 150. 
 
 VI] 44 
 
346 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 is a preestablished harmony of action -between the two. 
 ^' God," he says, " has created the soul in sueh a manner 
 at first/ that it should represent within itself, all the simul- 
 taneous changes in the body ; ^ and he has made the body 
 also in such a manner, as, that it must, of itself, do what 
 the soul wills ; so that the laws, which make the thoughts 
 of the soul follow each other in regular succession, must 
 produce images which shall be coincident with the impres- 
 sions made by external objects upon our organs of sense; 
 while the laws by which the motions of the body follow 
 each other are likewise so coincident with the thoughts of 
 the soul as to give to our volitions and actions, the very 
 same appearance as if the latter were really the natural 
 and the necessary consequence of the former." Thus, by 
 this preestablished harmony, the corporeal world and the 
 spiritual world are like two clocks,^ which, though recipro- 
 cally independent, mark simultaneously by the same hours, 
 in consequence of an internal mechanism in which the 
 clock maker has realized his own ideas. 
 
 Both these hypotheses naturally lead to a third, which 
 may, perhaps, be claimed as a result of the other two ; that 
 of optimism, according to which God has brought into 
 being the best possible order of things. This position 
 brought him face to face with metaphysical, physical, and 
 moral evil. The possibility of evil he derives from the 
 limitation of creatures. Metaphysical evil, which is the 
 imperfection of creatures, must subsist in the most perfect 
 world, as created things are not susceptible of infinite per- 
 fection. It consists simply in limitation. Physical evil, 
 or pain, is the result of limitation. It is the punishment 
 of moral evil, and hence, conduces to good. It is also 
 often in itself a necessary agent in the production of a 
 greater good. As to moral evil, its permission may be 
 the condition of the greatest good, as it does not follow 
 
 Lewes, 459. ^History of Philosophy, ii, 93. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 347 
 
 but that the perfection of the world absolutely required 
 that God should permit this effect of the free will of man. 
 
 He held to a philosophical necessity, as being the only 
 kind of liberty which is consistent with the preestablished 
 order of the universe. Thus it will be seen that problems, 
 the largest, most comprehensive, and most difficult, occu- 
 pied the mind of Leibnitz, and his writings sowed the 
 seed of philosophical thinking in Germany. 
 
 The teachings of his successor, Christian Wolf, born 1679, 
 died 1764, neither sought nor accomplished but little more 
 than the reduction to system of what Leibnitz had left in a 
 detached and fragmentary condition. 
 
 The ScoUish School: Common Sense Philosophy — Beid, 
 Stewart, Hamilton. 
 
 The next school we shall consider is the Scottish School, 
 that of COMMON SENSE, which commences with Keid. 
 
 Thomas Reid was born at Glasgow, Scotland, in 1710. 
 He died in 1796. He was the contemporary of Condillac, 
 Hartley, Malebranche, Helvetius, and Kant. And was, 
 therefore, posterior to Bacon, Locke, Descartes, Spinoza, 
 Berkeley and Hume. It was the speculations of the two 
 last named, and especially the latter, that gave origin to 
 Reid as a metaphysician and founder of the Scotch school 
 of common sense. Hume had conducted philosophical 
 speculation to the very verge of annihilation. Human 
 thought, under his guidance, had arrived at a point where 
 nothing existed but impressions and their copies, ideas. It 
 could progress no further. It had, therefore, no other 
 alternative but to sound a retreat; and reexamine the 
 grounds upon which its positions had been taken, its prin- 
 ciples laid down, its convictions adopted and its reasonings 
 conducted. This it did in Scotland under the auspices of 
 Reid ; in Germany, under those of Kant. 
 
348 
 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Although Eeid is entitled to the honor of originating the 
 Scottish school, generally known as that of common sense ; 
 of imparting to it some of its peculiar features, and of in- 
 fusing into it the spirit, which has served as its animating 
 principle, yet the completion of it as a system, the perfect- 
 ing of it as a philosophy, is due to the more successful 
 efforts of other and later men. The Scottish school more 
 than any other, has had a history, which will be found de- 
 veloped in the writings of its principal representatives, 
 Thomas Eeid, Dugald Stewart and Sir William Hamilton. 
 It will be perceived that one link in this chain of represent- 
 ation is omitted, viz : Thomas Brown. Dr.Brown succeeded 
 Stewart in the chair of moral philosophy in the University 
 of Edinburgh.^ The following exhibits the plan of his 
 arrangement : 
 
 S 
 
 All the variety 
 
 of 
 
 Sensations 
 
 Intellectual 
 
 Emotional . 
 
 r Simpl 
 (^ Relative 
 
 f Passions and 
 
 
 This idea of considering all mental phenomena as only 
 different states of the same thinking and feeling substance, 
 called mind, is not in accordance with the Scottish 
 philosophy, and although popular at the time, has never 
 since been adopted. Dr. Brown's system can, therefore, 
 hardly be considered as, in any way, contributing to the 
 
 'Morell, 377. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 349 
 
 formation of the Scottish school, and hence he cannot form 
 a link in the chain of its representatives. 
 
 The Scottish school, as proclaimed in the writings of 
 Reid, Stewart and Hamilton, has never received its merited 
 share of attention from the historians of philosophy. The 
 writings of Reid and Stewart, especially of the latter, have 
 been extensively read and studied in America, having been 
 mostly made use of as text books in academies and colleges. 
 And yet the real merits of the Scottish school only stand 
 out in their larger proportions in the works of Sir William 
 Hamilton. Giving to the subject of metaphysical philo- 
 sophy the long continued efforts of a great and mature 
 mind, he has enabled this school to command the respect, 
 and, to a great extent, the confidence of the British isles, 
 while his writings published at the time of his death have 
 given him a commanding position on the continent and 
 in America. His lectures, now issuing from the press, 
 give in a more detailed and systematic form, the results 
 of his reflection, and will bestow upon the school, to 
 which he belonged, a wider knowledge, and a more 
 enduring perpetuity. 
 
 The system of philosophy evolved from the Scottish 
 school is a pure psychology. It limits itself entirely to an 
 exposition of mental phenomena. Its method is one of 
 observation, a careful observation of the facts of conscious- 
 ness. With these facts it begins and ends. Its peculiar 
 mission appears to be to develop and proclaim the truths 
 embraced in consciousness ; to ascertain its limits ; and to 
 establish the conclusiveness of its testimony as to all those 
 things of which it clearly speaks. In the fulfillment of its 
 mission it not only observes, but also establishes, in respect 
 to many points, the limit of observation and reasoning. 
 The great and principal point of distinction which serves 
 to separate it from every other, and to give it its character, 
 consists mainly in the circumstance that it resolves into 
 ultimate facts many things that had previously presented 
 insurmountable difficulties in their explanation. As an 
 
350 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 illustration of this statemenj: take the following principles, 
 or ultimate facts, which, according to Reid, are the judg- 
 ments of common sense relating to contingent truths : ^ 
 
 1. Everything which is attested to me by consciousness 
 and the internal sense really exists. 
 
 2. The thoughts of which I am conscious are thoughts of 
 a being whom I call I. 
 
 3. The things which memory distinctly recalls to me 
 really happened. 
 
 4. I am certain of my personal identity from the remotest 
 period to which my memory can reach. 
 
 5. Objects which I perceive by the aid of my senses 
 really exist, and are as I perceive them. 
 
 6. I exert some degree of power upon my actions and 
 determinations. 
 
 7. The natural faculties by which I distinguish truth 
 from error are not delusive. 
 
 8. My fellow men are living and intelligent creatures 
 like myself. 
 
 9. Certain expressions of countenance, certain sounds of 
 the voice, and certain gestures, indicate certain thoughts 
 and certain dispositions of mind. 
 
 10. We have naturally some regard for the testimony of 
 men in matters of fact, and even for human authority in 
 matters of opinion. 
 
 11. Many events which depend upon the free will of our 
 fellow men may nevertheless be foreseen with more or less 
 probability. 
 
 12. In the order of nature, that which is to take place, 
 will probably resemble that which has taken place in 
 similar circumstances. 
 
 The Scottish school contains reflectively the three ideas 
 which constitute the elements of all human knowledge, 
 viz : the finite mind, nature, and God. But it regards all 
 these from an experimental, rather than an abstract or 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 147 - 8'. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 351 
 
 fuDdamental point of view, and hence bears less of a 
 speculative character, and is accounted less deep and pro- 
 found in its researches.^ It may, however, well be doubted 
 whether the views it takes, which will be found admirably 
 harmonizing together in the production of a consistent 
 whole, are not in themselves well calculated to assign to 
 intelligence its proper sphere, surrounding it everywhere 
 with its proper limitations. It recognizes philosophy, in 
 its more extensive signification, to be a knowledge of 
 things by their causes, while, in its stricter meaning, it is 
 confined to the sciences which constitute,^ or hold imme- 
 diately of, the science of mind. The causes of philo- 
 sophy, those which invite or compel to its study are two 
 in number. 1. The necessity we feel to connect causes 
 with efiects. 2. The carrying up of all our knowledge 
 into unity.^ 
 
 Regarding all method as a rational progress, a progress 
 towards an end ; and the ends or final causes of philosophy 
 to be the discovery of efiS.cient causes ; and the generahza- 
 tion of all knowledge into unity ; it follows two processes 
 in the development of its principles. Of these we have 
 
 1. Analysis which decomposes compounds into their 
 simple primary elements, which resolves effects into their 
 constituted causes. 
 
 2. Synthesis which recomposes the primary elements 
 into their compound, reconstructs causes out of their effects. 
 And the one it considers as correlative of the other. 
 
 It makes of psychology, or the philosophy of mind, a 
 threefold division, viz: 1. Phenomena, in general. 2. Laws. 
 3. Inferences; results. It asks of philosophy a response to 
 three questions, viz : 1. What are the facts or phenomena 
 to be observed ? 2. What are the laws which regulate 
 these facts, or under which these phenomena appear ? 3. 
 What are the real results which these facts or phenomena 
 warrant us in drawing ? 
 
 Morell, 399. "" Hamilton, 45. ' Idem, 46. 
 
352 
 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 There are also subdivisions of these, which will appear 
 from the following tabular view of the distribution of phi- 
 losophy : 
 
 Cognitions 
 
 o 
 
 Facts 
 Phenomenology 
 Empirical 
 Psychology- 
 
 Feelings 
 
 Conative Powers ■ 
 and Desire 
 
 WiU 
 
 Laws 
 Nomology 
 Rational 
 Psychology 
 
 Results 
 Ontology 
 Inferential 
 Psychology 
 
 ' Cognitions — Logic 
 Feelings — Esthetic 
 
 f Moral Philosophy 
 
 Conative Powers 
 
 [ Political Philosophy 
 
 r Being of God 
 
 [ Immortality of the soul, etc. 
 
 This is the division proposed by Sir William Hamilton,^ 
 the previous divisions having been generally either into the 
 theoretical and practical, or the speculative and practical. 
 
 The first important position taken by the Scottish school, 
 and it is one that interpenetrates, and lies at the founda- 
 tion of all its philosophy, is that all knowledge is relative, 
 that we know nothing absolute, nothing existing absolutely, 
 nothing either of mind or matter except as it has relation 
 to human faculties.^ All, therefore, that we do or can 
 know is existence in certain special forms or modes, and 
 these, likewise, only in so far as they may be analogous to 
 our faculties. It holds that all knowledge is only relative : 
 " 1. Because existence is not cognizable absolutely and in 
 
 Hamilton, 88. ' Idem, 96, 107. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 353 
 
 itself,^ but only in special modes. 2. Because the modes 
 can be known only if they stand in a certain relation to 
 our faculties. 3. Because the modes, thus relative to 
 our faculties, are presented to, and known by, the mind 
 only under modifications determined by these faculties 
 themselves." 
 
 There are, therefore, two opposite series of expressions : 
 1. Those which denote the relative and the known. 2. 
 Those which denote the absolute and the unknown. To 
 the first belong phenomenon, mode, modification, state, 
 quality, property, attribute, accident. To the latter, sub- 
 ject, substance, substratum. 
 
 Existence may have a thousand modes, and yet they can 
 be nothing to us unless we possess faculties accommodated 
 to their apprehension. But even if we were endowed with, 
 faculties to apprehend these thousand modes, still would 
 our whole knowledge be, as it is at present, only of the 
 relative. "We should still only apprehend existence in cer- 
 tain special modes, in certain relations to our faculties of 
 knowledge. It is these modes that are known under the 
 names of qualities, properties, accidents, phenomena, 
 manifestations, appearances, and so forth, while the un- 
 known ground, which affords them support, is termed their 
 substance or subject. 
 
 Having established the relativity of all knowledge, this 
 philosophy next proceeds to a distribution of mental phe- 
 nomena, to a classification of the powers and faculties of 
 the mind. In this respect it has a history, has made a 
 progress. Reid's classification — and it is substantially 
 the one adopted by Stewart — is the following: 1. The 
 'powers we have by means of our external senses. 2. Me- 
 mory. 3. Conception. 4. The powers of resolving and 
 analyzing complex objects, and compounding those that 
 are more simple. 5. Judging. 6. Reasoning. 7. Taste. 
 8. Moral perception ; and last of all, consciousness. 
 
 ^ Hamiilton, 104. 
 
 VI] 45 
 
354 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The later and Letter considered distribution under Sir 
 "William Hamilton, assumes consciousness as the founda- 
 tion of all mental phenomena, and identifies what are 
 denominated powers or faculties of mind, as so many 
 special modifications under which it is manifested. 
 
 This philosophy, under the lead of Sir William Hamil- 
 ton, investigates consciousness with all the lights which 
 itself afibrds.^ He compares it to an internal light, by 
 means of which, and which alone, what passes in the mind 
 is rendered visible. It is simple and undecompounded ; 
 always resembling itself. Although not in itself definable, 
 yet it admits of analysis ; ^ and this is effected by observing 
 and holding fast, the phenomena or facts of consciousness; 
 comparing them ; and from this comparison, evolving the 
 universal conditions under which alone an act of conscious- 
 ness is possible. 
 
 Consciousness being the self-recognition that we know, 
 feel, desire, etc., exists and manifestsitself under the follow- 
 ing limitations and conditions : 1. It is an actual or living, 
 and not a potential or dormant knowledge. 2. It is an 
 immediate, and not a mediate knowledge. 3. It supposes 
 a contrast, a discrimination, a distinguishing of something 
 which is from something which is not. 4. It involves judg- 
 ment, for it is impossible to discriminate without judging. 
 5. Its possible exercise is only through memory, for without 
 that our mental states could not be held fast, compared, 
 distinguished from each other, and referred to self. 
 
 Both Reid and Stewart considered attention as a mental 
 faculty distinct from consciousness,^ but as now understood 
 in that school it is merely an act of will or desire, subordi- 
 nate to the following law of intelligence, viz : the greater the 
 number of objects to which our consciousness is simultane- 
 ously extended, the smaller is the intensity with which it is 
 able to consider each, and consequently the less vivid and 
 distinct the information it obtains of the several objects. 
 
 ^EamUton, 126. ^ Idem, 132. « Idem, 164. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 355 
 
 That effort of will by which we exclude, or shut out 
 from the view of consciousness, some objects, by means of 
 which those which remain are the more intensified, is called 
 attention. It is of three degrees or kinds: 1. A mere 
 vital and irresistible act. 2. An act determined by desire, 
 which, though involuntary, may be resisted by our will. 3. 
 An act determined by a deliberate volition. 
 
 Consciousness acts, and evolves its phenomena in subor- 
 dination to three laws : 1. The law of parsimony, which 
 precludes the assumption of anything as a fact of conscious- 
 ness unless it be ultimate and simple. 2. The law of 
 integrity, by which the whole facts of consciousness are to 
 be taken without reserve or hesitation, whether given as 
 constituent, or as regulative data. 3. The law of harmony, 
 by which nothing but the facts of consciousness are to be 
 taken, or, if inferences of reasoning be admitted, that these 
 at least be recognized as legitimate only as deduced from, 
 and in subordination to, the immediate data of conscious- 
 ness, and every position rejected as illegitimate, which is 
 contradictory of these. 
 
 An important point for the Scottish philosophy to settle, 
 and one which interpenetrates its whole substance is, what 
 is a fact of consciousness ? To this it is answered : 1. That 
 it is primary and universal. Whenever, in our analysis of 
 mental phenomena we arrive at an element which we can- 
 not reduce to a generalization from experience, but which 
 lies at the root of all experience, and which we cannot, 
 therefore, resolve into any higher principle, it is a^'act of 
 consciousness. It is the last result of analysis, an ultimate 
 principle. 2. It must have upon it the stamp of necessity. 
 It must be impossible not to think it. 3. It must be accom- 
 panied with a belief in its reality.^ Its existence must be 
 given and guarantied by an original and necessary belief. 
 
 Consciousness brings along with it the evidence of three 
 facts : 1. That of our own self-existence. 2. That of our 
 
 ^Hamilton, 188. 
 
356 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 own mental unity or individuality. 3. That of our own 
 mental identity. 
 
 The revelations of consciousness suggest three great 
 divisions of mental phenomena, viz : 1. The cognitive 
 faculties. 2. The feelings. 3. The exertive or conative 
 powers. The first give, as their result, knowledge. The 
 second, pleasure and pain. The third, will and desire. 
 This division was adopted by Sir William Hamilton from 
 Kant. The founders of the Scottish school had adopted the 
 old scholastic division into powers of the understanding, 
 and powers of the will ; or as they generally expressed it 
 into intellectual and active powers. 
 
 The Scottish philosophy next proceeds to give its mode 
 of distribution of the cognitive faculties, first defining a 
 faculty to be nothing more than a general term for the 
 causality the mind has of originating a certain class of 
 energies; ^ and a capacity to be only a general term for the 
 susceptibility the mind has of being affected by a particu- 
 lar class of emotions. The divisions, given by Sir William 
 Hamilton, is in many respects different from that of Reid 
 and Stewart. The following tabular view will exhibit his 
 division : ^ 
 
 f External — Perception 
 f I. Presentative < 
 
 I Internal — Self-consciousness 
 
 M 
 
 O 
 
 t 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 II. Conservative = Memory 
 
 r Without Will == Suggestion 
 
 III. Reproductive -I 
 I With. Will = Reminiscence 
 
 IV. Representative = Imagination 
 V. Elaborative = Comparison — Faculty of Relations 
 
 VI. Regulative = Reason — Common Sense 
 
 I. The first of these, the presentative, brings up as a dis- 
 tinct subject of investigation ; What constitutes perception ? 
 
 Hamilton, 269. ' Idem, 378. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 357 
 
 "What its object? "What its result, as declared conscious- 
 ness? Here we arrive at that which constitutes the most 
 distiuguishing feature of the Scottish school, that in which 
 it is directly at issue with all the other schools and systems. 
 
 The question as to what constitutes perception, its ob- 
 ject and result was not a new one when it was presented 
 to the mind of Reid. All other schools had entertained 
 the belief that perception took place through representa- 
 tion not presentation. The Epicureans,^ and schools 
 thence derived, maintained that material things were re- 
 presented, and by that means, presented to the mind, 
 through refined substantial effluxions from them ; while 
 the peripatetics held that the same thing was accomplished 
 by means of immaterial species or shadowy films, bearing 
 an exact resemblance to the external object. Another 
 view, entertained by Descartes, was that the inward repre- 
 sentation was not a separate existence, but a modification 
 of the mind itself, produced according to him by the direct 
 intervention of the deity, in his " occasional causes," and 
 according to Leibnitz, by a preestablished harmony. This 
 perception was explained only upon the principle of an 
 hypothesis, and philosophy felt driven to this necessity 
 principally from two considerations: 1. The assumption 
 that the mind could only perceive something that was 
 present to it, and in it, viz : an idea. 2. That conscious- 
 ness has no other possible application except to the sub- 
 jective, never to the objective. 
 
 In accounting for the act of perception the difficulty of 
 securing a passage from the inner world of consciousness 
 into the outer world of fact had to be met. ]N"o sane person 
 doubted the existence of both worlds, but the difficulty was 
 in getting from one to the other without violating any of 
 the internal convictions, or any of the logical laws of the 
 intellect. This has always been the Gordian knot of 
 philosophy, but Reid, instead of attempting to untie it, cut 
 
 'MoreU,d85. 
 
358 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 it. He established it as the doctrine of the Scottish school, 
 that there was no representation whatever in perception ; 
 that its act instead of being mediate, was immediate ; and 
 that thus all the perceptible things of the outer world were 
 brought into direct realization by the inner. This was 
 probably a refuge into which Dr. Reid threw himself to 
 escape from the sweeping skepticism of Berkeley and 
 Hume ; and laying down, as he did, consciousness as a 
 special faculty of the mind, instead of a common revelator 
 to all the faculties, he found great difficulties iu main- 
 taining his position. But more recently the mind of 
 Sir William Hamilton has brought to the consideration 
 of it the full maturity of his powers, and the refuge has 
 become a fortress that bids open defiance to all other 
 schools and systems. He complains that the old doctrine 
 in all its forms rests wholly upon an hypothesis, and this 
 hypothesis he objects to. 1. As in no degree necessary. 
 That consciousness supplies as an ultimate fact all that this 
 hypothesis seeks to establish, and that in itself it is not 
 more intelligible than the fact it displaces. 2. It subverts 
 the very thing it was devised to explain. It was to explain 
 the act of consciousness in perception, but it denies its tes- 
 timony to our immediate perception of an outer world. 3. 
 That the fact which it is deyised to explain, viz : the ex- 
 istence of the outer world is itself hypothetical and not 
 proved. 4. That it sunders and subverts the phenomenon 
 to be explained. 5. That the fact, the external world which 
 is to be explained lies without the sphere of experience and 
 that all legitimate hypotheses explain only those which lie 
 within it. 6. That it is not single, but attempts to explain 
 the knowledge of an unknown world by the ratio of a re- 
 presentative perception, while it is impossible by any con- 
 ceivable relation to apply the ratio to the facts. 
 
 He asserts the duality of consciousness in the act of per- 
 ception. "We are, "^ he says, "immediately conscious in 
 
 Hamilton, 200. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 359 
 
 perception of an ego and a non-ego known together, and 
 known in contrast to each other. This is the fact of the 
 duality of consciousness. It is clear and manifest, when 
 I concentrate my attention in the simplest act of percep- 
 tion, I return from my observation with the most irre- 
 sistible conviction of two facts, or rather two branches of 
 the same fact, that I am, and that something different 
 from me exists. In this act I am conscious of myself as the 
 perceiving subject, and of an external reality as the object 
 perceived; and I am conscious of both existences in the 
 same indivisible moment of intuition. The knowledge of 
 the subject does not precede, nor follow, the knowledge of 
 the object ; neither determines, neither is determined by, the 
 other." 
 
 And again " consciousness not only gives us a duality, 
 but it gives its elements in equal counterpoise and inde- 
 pendence.^ The ego and non-ego, mind and matter, are not 
 only given together, but in absolute coequality. The one 
 does not precede, the other does not follow; and, in their 
 mutual relations, each is equally dependent, equally inde- 
 dendent." 
 
 This doctrine rests distinctly upon the veracity of con- 
 sciousness, and the assertion that, as to us, there can be no 
 higher authority. All reasoning must be based upon it, 
 and no appeal can be taken to any higher power. It is to 
 us a primal law, and whatever it gives us must be received 
 as given. Perception being given by consciousness is an 
 ultimate fact; and is utterly incapable of explanation, 
 because no explanation can be given that is not ulti- 
 mately based upon the same consciousness that proclaims 
 the fact. 
 
 Upon this doctrine the external world is received just as 
 consciousness gives it. As that gives the conviction of its 
 reality, so it is to be received as really existing as the ego, 
 the 7, that receives it. 
 
 Hamilton, 203. 
 
360 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Thus the Scottish philosophy bridges the chasm between 
 the interior and the exterior world, resting its abutments 
 upon the strong irreversible convictions of mankind fur- 
 nished through consciousness. As auxiliary to this doctrine, 
 it investigates the law of perception and sensation in their 
 reciprocal relation, and ascertains it to be that although 
 these are always coexistent, yet they are always in the in- 
 verse ratio to each other.^ This it proves : 1. From a 
 comparison of the several senses ; finding that precisely as 
 a sense has more of the one element, it has less of the 
 other. 2. From a comparison of the several impressions 
 of the same sense, and ascertaining there, that, above a 
 certain limit, perception declines in proportion as sensation 
 rises. In connection with this, it also asserts the distinction 
 between the primary and secondary qualities of matter; 
 holding extension and solidity to be the only primary 
 qualities, while all the others are secondary. 
 
 Our knowledge of all the qualities of matter is merely 
 relative. Still, in different perceptions, one term of the 
 relation may predominate, or the other.^ " Where the 
 objective element predominates, where matter is known 
 as principal, in its relation to mind, and mind only known 
 as subordinate in its correlation to matter, we have percep- 
 tion proper, rising superior to sensation; this is seen in 
 the primary qualities. Where, on the contrary, the sub- 
 jective element predominates, where mind is known as 
 principal in its relation to matter, and matter is only known 
 as subordinate in its relation to mind, we have sensation 
 proper rising superior to perception ; and this is seen in 
 the secondary qualities." 
 
 The presentative faculty, it will be remembered, has two 
 forms : external and internal, perception and self-con- 
 sciousness. They are thus contrasted : " Perception is the 
 power by which we are made aware of the phenomena of 
 the external world ; ^ self-consciousness the power by which 
 
 ' Hamilton, 336. "" Idem, 347. ' Idem, 401. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 361 
 
 we apprehend the phenomena of the internal. The objects 
 of the former are all presented to us in space and time ; 
 space and time are thus the two conditions, the two funda- 
 mental forms, of external perception. The objects of the 
 latter are all apprehended by us in time and in self, time 
 and self are thus the two conditions, the two fundamental 
 forms, of internal perception or self-consciousness." This 
 faculty of self-consciousness corresponds with the reflection 
 of Locke. 
 
 n. ^N'ext to the presentative faculty comes the conserva- 
 tive memory, which denotes the power the mind possesses 
 of retaining hold of the knowledge it has acquired. The 
 question here is raised as to how a mental activity ever 
 vanishes ; and the answer is found in the fact that as every 
 mental activity belongs to the one vital activity of mind 
 in general, and as there is a given quantity or degree of 
 force to be exercised among all the activities, so will each 
 rise and decline successively as this force is differently 
 distributed among them. The mind upon the Scottish 
 system is always active. 
 
 The law of retention extends over all the phenomena of 
 mind alike. 
 
 m. Next follows the reproductive faculty, the function 
 of which consists in the process of recovering the absent 
 thought from unconsciousness.^ It is of two kinds : With- 
 out will, and with will ; the former termed suggestion, the 
 latter reminiscence. In the first, reproduction is governed 
 by the laws which regulate the association of the mental 
 train, and here the succession is governed by special laws,^ 
 according to which, certain kinds of modification exclu- 
 sively precede, and exclusively follow each other. In the 
 last it is governed by an act of volition, which, by concen- 
 trating attention upon a certain determinate class of associ- 
 
 ' Hamilton, 375. ""Idem. 429. 
 VI] 46 
 
862 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ating circumstances/ bestows upon these an extraordinary 
 vivacity, and, consequently, enables them to obtain the 
 preponderance, and exclusively to determine the succes- 
 sion of the intellectual train. 
 
 As to the conditions under which reminiscence is deter- 
 mined to exertion, it is to be noted : 1. That, at every 
 crisis of our existence, momentary circumstances are the 
 causes which awaken our activity, and set our recollection 
 at work to supply the necessaries of thought. 2. It is 
 as constituting a want, a result either of an act of desire 
 or of volition, that the determining circumstance tends 
 principally to awaken the thoughts with which it is asso- 
 ciated. Each circumstance, constituting a want, suggests 
 the notion of that which is calculated to satisfy it. 
 
 IV. !N'ext follows the representative faculty, imagination, 
 which means the power the mind has of holding up vividly 
 before itself the thoughts which, by the act of reproduction, 
 it has recalled into consciousness. 
 
 There are two powers by which the representative faculty 
 is determined to energy : 1. The reproductive faculty, as 
 the immediate source from which it receives both the 
 materials and the determination to represent ; the laws of 
 the former governing also the latter.^ 2. Comparison, the 
 faculty of relations, plays also a conspicuous part, in deter- 
 mining in what combinations objects are represented. By it 
 complex objects are separated into parts, analyzed, and again 
 recombined, or compounded in every variety of fashion. 
 
 In subordination to these two determinants, there are 
 three principal orders in which imagination represents 
 ideas : 1. The natural order, that according to which our 
 thoughts spontaneously group themselves. 2. The logical 
 order, subdivided : 1st. Induction, presentation of particu- 
 lars and ascending to the universal which they constitute. 
 2d. Deduction, presentation of universals, and derivation 
 
 Hamilton,^!. ^Idem,4:5d. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 363 
 
 thence of particulars. 3d. The poetical order consisting in 
 seizing individual circumstances, and in so grouping them 
 that the imagination shall represent them so as they might 
 be offered by the sense. ^ 
 
 The imagination employs the organs of sense in the 
 representations of sensible objects, and by its attractive or 
 repulsive pictures, according to our habits and associations, 
 fills the frame of our life with enjoyment or misery. 
 
 ' V. The elaborative faculty, the faculty of relations, com- 
 parison, gives us what we may strictly denominate thought. 
 All the previous faculties have been subsidiary to this. It 
 is this which acts upon what the others furnish, and hence 
 affords us an instance purely of intellection. This faculty 
 is determined by objective conditions : 1. Its first and 
 simplest act is the discrimination of existence from non- 
 existence.^ 2. In affirming the existence of the ego and 
 the non-ego, we also affirm their existence in duality, in 
 difference in mutual contrast. 3. The recognition of the 
 multiplicity of the coexistent or successive phenomena, 
 presented either to perception or self-consciousness, and 
 the judgment in regard to their resemblance or dissimi- 
 larity. 4. The comparison of phenomena with the native 
 notion of substance, and the judgment is the grouping of 
 these phenomena into different bundles, as attributes of 
 different subjects, in the external world constituting the 
 distinction of things ; in the internal that of powers. 5. 
 The collation of successive phenomena under the native 
 notion of causality, and the affirmation or negation of their 
 mutual relation as cause and effect. 
 
 The Scottish school refer to this faculty a series of opera- 
 tions which by many other philosophers have been made 
 the functions of specific powers. Such are : 1. Composition 
 or synthesis.^ 2. Abstraction, decomposition, or analysis. 
 3. Generalization. 4. Judgment. 5. Reasoning. 
 
 Hamilton, A^m. Ud6m,im., ' Idem, 4:7S. 
 
364 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 YI. The regulative faculty is the last, and the one that 
 brings to view several important features of the Scottish 
 school. The term is employed not to denote the proximate 
 cause of any definite energy, but the power the mind has 
 of being the native source of certain necessary or k priori 
 cognitions,^ which, as they are the conditions, the forms, 
 under which our knowledge is possible, constitute so many 
 fundamental laws of intellectual nature. This faculty is 
 the complement of such laws. It is the locus principiorum. 
 By some it is called reason, by others common sense. 
 
 The distinction was taken by Leibnitz, between neces- 
 sary truths, or those apprehended by demonstration,^ and 
 those which become known to us by induction alone ; 
 the former, of which can only be approved to us by prin- 
 ciples native to the mind. Such are the notions of being, 
 of substance, of one and the same, of the true, of the good, 
 and many others innate to the mind.^ It is the quality of 
 necessity which discriminates a native from an adventitious 
 element of knowledge. 
 
 All that is conceivable in thought lies between two ex- 
 tremes,^ which, as contradictory to each other, cannot both 
 be true ; but of which, as mutual contradictories, one 
 must. Take, for instance, space. In one extreme, it can- 
 not be considered as illimitable, for over whatever space 
 we travel, we are still in the finite. In the other extreme, 
 it is equally impossible to reach its commencement, for on 
 the principle of infinite divisibility, we can never reach a 
 point so small, as that no smaller will remain. The same 
 may said of time. Thus, the conceivable, the intermediate, 
 is in every relation bounded by the inconceivable, and 
 this is what Sir William Hamilton calls the law of condi- 
 tioned. His position in reference to this is that the con- 
 ditioned is that which is alone conceivable; ^ the uncondi- 
 tioned that which is inconceivable. That everything 
 thinkable or conditioned, lies between two extremes or 
 
 ' Hamilton, bn. ^ Idem, 516. ^ Idem, 525. ^ Idem, 521. ' Idem, 5S0. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 365 
 
 poles, eacli of which is unconditioned, inconceivable, and 
 exclusive or contradictory of the other. The absolute, the 
 infinite, the unconditioned, are utterly inconceivable by 
 us. We know God according to the finitude of our 
 faculties, but we believe much that we are incompetent to 
 know — faith. Belief is the organ by which we appre- 
 hend what is beyond our knowledge. 
 
 The philosophy of the conditioned is invoked to furnish 
 principles to solve the problems of cause and effect, and of 
 substance and phenomenon, or accident. 
 
 That particular effects have particular causes, which may 
 be determined, is contingent, individual, a datum of experi- 
 ence. But that every event should have its causes is neces- 
 sary and universal, a condition of intelligence itself. 
 
 There are two classes of opinions explanatory of the causal 
 judgment. The first rests either immediately or mediately 
 upon experience ; the second, either immediately or medi- 
 ately on a native principle of the mind itself. In order to 
 understand how this judgment is brought within the law of 
 the conditioned, it is necessary to advert to the fact that all 
 thought implies the thought of existence,^ and that hence 
 existence may be laid down as a necessary form of thought. 
 So also is time the necessary condition of every conscious 
 act. Thought is only realized to us as in succession, and 
 succession is only conceived by us in time. Existence, and 
 existence in time, is thus an elementary form of our intel- 
 ligence. 
 
 But as the absolute and the infinite must be entirely 
 excluded, it is obvious that we conceive existence only as 
 conditioned in time. And existence conditioned in time 
 expresses at once and in relation^ the three categories of 
 thought, which afford us in combination the principle of 
 causality. The explanation is this : 
 
 As existence and time are established as the categories 
 of all thought, whenever anything is thought to exist, it 
 
 Hamilton, 548. ^ Idem, 54S, 
 
366 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 must be thought to exist id time. That is either present, 
 past, or future.^ A thing once in existence we can never 
 conceive as nonexistent either in the past or the future. 
 
 But it is now existing. How came it so? That the 
 phenomenon presented to us began, as a phenomenon, to 
 be, we know by experience. We are compelled to believe 
 that the object whose phenomenal rise into existence we 
 have witnessed, did really exist, prior to this rise, under 
 other forms. But to say that a thing previously existed 
 under other forms is the same thing as saying that it had 
 causes, and thus vindicates the causal judgment under the 
 law of the conditioned. 
 
 Mental phenomena, according to the Scottish philosophy 
 as expounded by Sir William Hamilton, are divided into 
 three classes : cognitions, feelings, conations. These are all 
 revealed by consciousness, but they are revealed as possess- 
 ing qualities, attributes and characteristics peculiar to 
 themselves, and hence its testimony favors their distribu- 
 tion into different classes. The Scottish philosophy, there- 
 fore, holds that the phenomena of pleasure and pain con- 
 stitute a distinct order of internal states,^ thus establishing 
 the capacity of feeling as one of the fundamental powers 
 of the human mind. 
 
 In actual life the feelings occupy a position intermediate 
 between the cognitions and the conations. This is one of 
 necessity,^ for without the previous cognition there could 
 be neither feeling nor conation, and without the previous 
 feeling there could be no conation. The objective pre- 
 sented in thought excites the feeling, and that in its turn 
 gives rise to volition. The manifestations of the cona- 
 tive powers are determined by the feelings. This is appar- 
 ent : 1. Because all objects known in the same manner and 
 degree, are not equal objects of desire or will. 2. Because 
 different individuals are desirous of different objects. Points 
 of difference between the three classes : ^ In the cognition, 
 
 Hamilton, 554. ' Idem, 559. ^ Idem, 567. ^ Idem, 571; 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 367 
 
 consciousness distinguishes between the object known and 
 the subject knowing. In the feeling, consciousness fuses 
 the mental state with itself; there is nothing but the sub- 
 jective, no object different from self. In the conation, 
 there is an object, and that an object of knowledge, but it 
 differs from cognition in the fact that it is accompanied by 
 a want which excites the will to supply it. 
 
 Pleasure and pain are the phenomena which constitute 
 the essential attribute of feeling, under all its modifications.^ 
 The first is a reflex of the spontaneous and unimpeded ex- 
 ertion of a power, of whose energy we are conscious; the 
 latter a reflex of the overstrained or repressed exertion of 
 such a power.^ 
 
 All feeling is a state in which we are conscious of some 
 of the energies or processes of life, and as these differ from 
 each other,^ so will the correlative feelings. There will, 
 therefore, be as many different feelings as there are distinct 
 modes of mental activity. 
 
 In this view of the feelings, referring their differences to 
 the differences of the powers which they attend, there are 
 two great classes, viz : 
 
 1. Sensations, those which accompany the vital processes 
 more immediately connected with the corporeal organism. 
 
 2. Sentiments, those which accompany the mental pro- 
 cesses, and which, if not wholly inorganic, are less imme- 
 diately dependent on the conditions of the nervous system. 
 
 The sensations are again subdivided into two orders: 
 1. Those which accompany the action of the five <leter- 
 minate senses. 2. Those which accompany or constitute 
 the manifestations of the indeterminate, or vital sense,^ 
 such as heat and cold, hunger and thirst, etc. 
 
 The sentiments are also subdivided into two orders : 
 1. The contemplative, those which are the concomitants of 
 our cognitive powers.^ 2. The practical, the concomitants 
 of our powers of conation. The former are again divided 
 
 ' Hamilton, 57d. Udem,577. Udem,61d. ' Idem, QU. ' Idem,61Q. 
 
368 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 into : 1. Those of the subsidiary faculities. 2. Those of 
 the elaborative. The former are divided into two classes 
 according as they are the concomitants of the lower or sub- 
 sidiary, or the higher or elaborative faculty of cognition. 
 To the former belong those of self-consciousness, or internal 
 perception; to the latter those of imagination, referring to 
 the imagination the relative faculty of reproduction. The 
 latter, or elaborative class, include all those feelings which 
 arise from the gratification of the regulative faculty, the 
 reason or intelligence. Those feelings which arise from 
 the acts of imagination and understanding in conjunction 
 are principally those of beauty and sublimity. 
 
 The conative powers give rise to the practical feelings, 
 and they are relative, either: 1. To our self-preservation; 
 or, 2. To the enjoyment of our existence; or, 3. To the 
 preservation of the species ; or, 4. To our tendency towards 
 development and perfection ; or, 5. To the moral law. 
 
 The freedom of the human will is a postulate of the 
 Scottish school. That could not but be afiirmed by a 
 philosophy whose peculiar mission is the development of 
 consciousness. Besides, it derives this freedom from the 
 very nature of the moral law. That law is a law of duty, 
 which unconditionally commands the fulfillment of its be- 
 hests.^ This supposes an ability to fulfill them, and the 
 liberty of human action is thus involved in the datum of 
 the law of duty. 
 
 We now bid farewell to the Scottish school of philosophy. 
 We have given it essentially as contained in the teachings 
 of Sir William Hamilton, its latest and ablest representa- 
 tive. We have endeavored to do it that justice which it 
 has failed to receive from the writers of the history of 
 philosophy. It is a school which preserves throughout an 
 entire consistency with itself; and, as it proposes only to 
 develop the phenomena of consciousness, it accomplishes 
 all it professes. Its whole course is characterized by ex- 
 
 ^ Hamilton, 633. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 369 
 
 treme caution. By arriving at the external world through 
 the duality of consciousness, and by confining itself within 
 the region of the conditioned, it has clipped the wings of 
 speculation, and thus prevented its diving to depths pro- 
 found, or soaring to dizzy heights ; but by these very 
 means, it has given to its philosophy a practical character ; 
 kept it within the region of the comprehensible ; and thus 
 rendered it an aid and a guide to man, instead of a wonder, 
 and a marvel, and a mystery. If, by its own self-limitations, 
 it has failed to render up all that man's deepest wants 
 seem to demand, it has supplied all that his necessities 
 require, and perhaps all that God intended him to receive. 
 
 Phrenology — Gall^ Spurzheim, Combe. 
 
 Before passing to the consideration of the German school, 
 embracing the critical philosophy, it will be necessary to 
 pay same attention to the phrenological school, whose great 
 chiefs are Gall, Spurzheim, and Combe. The originator of 
 this school is Francis Joseph Gall, who was born at Tiefen- 
 brunn in Suabia, on the 9th of March, 1757. The main prin- 
 ciple, however, upon which this school is based, is much 
 earlier than Dr. Gall. Prochasta had long previously asked 
 this interrogatory. " Do each of the divisions of the intellect 
 occupy a separate portion of the brain ? " and then proceeds 
 to say : " It is by no means improbable that each division of 
 the intellect has its allotted organ in the brain, so that there 
 is one for the perceptions, another for the understanding ; 
 probably others also for the will, and imagination, and 
 memory, which act wonderfully in concert, and mutally 
 excite each other to action." This, it will be seen, shadows 
 forth the principle upon which Gall proceeds. It was left 
 however, entirely undeveloped. This may have suggested 
 to Dr. Gall the principle of his system, although the state- 
 ment is that he was led to its adoption from observing, while 
 a boy, the differences of character and talents displayed by 
 members of the same family, taken in connection with 
 
 VI] 47 
 
370 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 certain peculiarities of the head corresponding with these 
 difterences. In corrohoration of this last it seems very 
 clear that Gall's first work for a number of years, was one 
 of observation. He possessed a shrewd nack of discrimi- 
 nating character, and of comparing cranial development 
 with its various manifestations. A lunatic asylum at 
 Vienna afforded him opportunities of comparing the exhi- 
 bitions made by certain monomaniacs with peculiar forms 
 and configurations of the skull. He also resorted to prisons 
 and courts of justice to make his observations on form and 
 manifestation. Finally, after spending about twenty years 
 in observation and dissection, he gave his first course of 
 lectures in Vienna in 1796. The result was the creation of 
 a great sensation. It was starting the human mind on a 
 new track of inquiry. It was opening up a new avenue to 
 the investigation and ascertainment of character. If men 
 really carried on the exterior of their crania the marks by 
 which the interior could be arrived at ; if, from the inspection 
 of the former, the contents of the latter could be revealed, 
 it was a science that could claim for itself a great amount 
 of consideration. 
 
 In 1800, Dr. J. Gr. Spurzheim, who was born at Longwich, 
 near Treves, on the Moselle, on the 31st December, 1776, 
 assisted for the first time Dr. Gall in his course of lectures ; 
 and in 1804, after having completed his medical studies, 
 he became associated with Dr. Gall in the labor of unfold- 
 ing the anatomy, physiology and pathology of the brain 
 and nervous system. On the 30th October, 1806, they 
 entered Paris. In 1808, they presented to the institute 
 their Memoire on the Anatomy and Physiology of the Nervous 
 System in general, and of the Brain in particular ; and 
 in 1810 appeared the first volume of their great work, under 
 the same title, which work was remodeled in 1823 and 
 published in six volumes octavo, under the title of Fonctions 
 du Cerveau. After laboring long together, Drs. Gall and 
 Spurzheim finally separated from each other, each pursuing 
 his investigations on his own account. The latter subse- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 371 
 
 quently gave courses of lectures, and while giving one at 
 Edinburgh in 1816, he had the good fortune to enlist the 
 attention, and finally to secure the convictions to his doc- 
 trines of George Combe, Esq., whose services in the cause 
 of phrenology both in Europe and America have been most 
 eminently successful. Both these last named gentlemen 
 have lectured much in Europe and America, Dr. Spurzheim 
 dying in Boston in 1838 while delivering in that city his 
 first course of lectures in this country. 
 
 After the separation of Grail and Spurzheim, each one 
 separately, as also Mr. Combe, pursued the study, lecturing 
 and publishing works on the general subject. The most 
 important of these have been reprinted in this country. 
 Dr. Gall's work On the Origin of the Moral Qualities and In- 
 tellectual Faculties of Man and the Conditions of their Manifesta- 
 tion^ in six volumes, was published in Boston, in 1835. Dr. 
 Spurzheim's work entitled Phrenology, or the Doctrine of the 
 Mental Phenomena, in two volumes, was also published in 
 Boston in 1834. And Mr. Combe's work entitled a System 
 of Phrenology, was also published in the same city during 
 the same year. 
 
 The so-called science of phrenology asserts and main- 
 tains the truth of three propositions, viz : 
 
 1. That the brain is not the one single organ of mind, 
 but on the contrary, a congeries of organs. 
 
 2. That the mind is not the one single general power 
 equally capable of acting in any direction, but that it con- 
 sists of a plurality of faculties, each having its own specific 
 function. 
 
 8. That each faculty is developed through, or connected 
 with, its organ, and that this connection of faculty with organ 
 its determinable, and has been determined by observation. 
 Thus phrenology is made to rest upon three foundations : 
 1. The anatomical or physiological, which relates to the 
 brain. 2. The phrenological, which relates to the mind. 
 8. The empirical, or observational, which assigns faculty 
 to organ, and thus connects the two together. 
 
372 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Aside from the empirical element, phrenology may be 
 substantially summed up in three inquiries : 
 
 I. The material organ, its location, size, and the condi- 
 tions that affect it. 
 
 n. The mental faculty, how it may be defined, what its 
 peculiar function. 
 
 III. The modes of activity which are common to all the 
 faculties of a particular class or order. 
 
 I. The first relates to the organology of the science, or 
 what is frequently termed craniosopy. As there is nothing 
 here but matter, as we might naturally suppose, Gall and 
 Spurzheim made the structures of the nervous system, and 
 especially of the brain, a subject of close and critical 
 examination. It seems generally admitted that they have 
 opened new avenues of knowledge relating to the structure 
 and physiology of the brain. They have unfolded its parts, 
 shown its fibrous structure, traced its convolutions, and 
 exhibited its diflerent connections, in such a manner as to 
 throw new light on its physiology. The organology, how- 
 ever, of the science is not very much aided by these dis- 
 coveries. We cannot find in the brain distinct organs for 
 the residence of the separate faculties. On the contrary, 
 the brain, although it has distinct parts, yet these do not 
 correspond with the different organs of the faculties. The 
 faculties as we shall hereafter see, have primarily two great 
 divisions, the affective and intellecual. 
 
 The first of these are susceptible of two divisions : propen- 
 sities and sentiments. The second, in like manner, are 
 divided into perceptive or knowing, and reflective faculties. 
 The first great point to determine is the regions of the 
 brain in which these several classes of faculties are located. 
 With this view figure 1 in the plate is presented. The 
 ideal line, which may be conceived as running directly 
 through from one ear to the other, thus connecting the 
 two meati auditorii together, is taken as an axis, and the 
 proportion of brain lying in different directions around it 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 373 
 
 is the measure or criterion of intellect or of feeling. If the 
 mass of brain between this axis and the forehead is large, 
 the organs of the perceptive, knowing and reflective facul- 
 ties are fully developed. If that which lays behind and 
 immediately above — forming the back and lower central 
 part of the head — is extensive, indicates a full development 
 of the organs, and consequently possession of the faculties, 
 common to man and animals. A large portion of brain 
 in the upper, lateral and horizontal region of the head 
 indicates that the organs of those faculties which manifest 
 the sentiments proper to man are voluminous. To arrive 
 at the relative proportions of these difl*erent regions, sup- 
 pose a line drawn from the centre of that axis to that point 
 at the top of the head near where the frontal and sagital su- 
 tures meet, the line marked E G- on the plate. The region 
 behind this line is called the occipital, that before, the frontal. 
 The length of this line measures the height of the head. 
 Again, suppose a line drawn from the middle of the fore- 
 head, or from the organ of eventuality to the point of union 
 between the parietal and occipital bones, D F, on the plate. 
 The part below this line is the basilar, that above the sinci- 
 pital or coronal region of the brain. The basilar is the 
 region of the propensities, the sincipital or coronal that of 
 the sentiments. In estimating the development of these 
 regions the width of the head must be compared with its 
 height. A low head, with the basilar or lower region of 
 the brain widely and largely developed, indicates the pre- 
 dominance of the animal nature ; a high head, as J:hat of 
 Sir Walter Scott, with the sincipital or upper region simi- 
 larly developed, indicates the predominance of the moral 
 nature. "While the propensities are located in the lower 
 or basilar region of the brain, and the sentiments in the 
 upper or sincipital, the intellectual faculties are situated in 
 the frontal region. The perceptive and knowing occupy 
 the lower, and the reflective the upper part of that region. 
 The following is the mode by which the comparative 
 development of these two classes of faculties can be esti- 
 
NAMES 
 
 or THE 
 
 Phrenological Organs, 
 
 Referring to the figures indicating 
 their relative •position. 
 
 
 I. Propensities. 
 
 1. 
 
 Amativeness. 
 
 3. 
 
 Philoprogenitiveness. 
 
 3. 
 
 Inliabitiveness, or Con- 
 
 
 centrativeness. 
 
 4. 
 
 Adhesiveness. 
 
 5. 
 
 Combativeness. 
 
 6. 
 
 Destructiveness. 
 
 7. 
 
 Secretiveness. 
 
 8. 
 
 Acquisitiveness. 
 
 9. 
 
 Constructiveness. 
 
 
 II. Sentiments. 
 
 10. 
 
 Self-esteem. 
 
 11. 
 
 Love of Approbation. 
 
 12. 
 
 Cautiousness. 
 
 13. 
 
 Benevolence. 
 
 14. 
 
 Veneration. 
 
 15. 
 
 Firmness. 
 
 16. 
 
 Conscientiousness. 
 
 17. 
 
 Hope. 
 
 18 
 
 Wonder, or Marvelous- 
 
 18 
 
 nope. 5 
 Wonder, or Marvelous- ^ 
 
 
 ness. 
 
 19. 
 
 Ideality. 
 
 20. 
 
 Wit, or Mirthfulness. 
 
 21. 
 
 Imitation. 
 
 
 III. Intellect, 
 
 
 1. Perceptive. 
 
 22. 
 
 Individuality. 
 
 23. 
 
 Form. 
 
 24. 
 
 Size. 
 
 25. 
 
 WeigH 
 
 26. 
 
 Order. 
 
 27. 
 
 Locality. 
 
 28. 
 
 Number. 
 
 29. 
 
 Coloring. 
 
 30. 
 
 Eventuality. 
 
 31. 
 
 Time. 
 
 32. 
 
 Tune. 
 
 33. 
 
 Language. 
 
 
 2. Reflective. 
 
 34. 
 
 Comparison. 
 
 35. 
 
 Causality. 
 
Figure 2. 
 16 
 
 Figure 3. 
 
376 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 mated : In figure 1, suppose the line A B to represent a 
 plane passing through the pupil of the eye directly through 
 the axis, or line, connecting the two meati auditorii, to the 
 back part of the head. Suppose another plane to be 
 represented by the line B 0, passing from the surface of the 
 reflecting faculties over those of the perceptive and know- 
 ing, until it intersects the plane represented by the line AB. 
 The angle ABC, formed at the point of intersection of the 
 two planes, represented by the lines AB and CB, will indicate 
 the comparative development of those two classes of facul- 
 ties. The larger the angle the more will the reflecting 
 faculties preponderate over the perceptive and knowing. 
 The more acute the angle, the greater the comparative 
 strength of the perceptive and knowing over those of the 
 reflecting. 
 
 Having determined the different regions of the brain in 
 which the organs of the different classes of faculties are 
 located, the phrenologist next proceeds to the location of 
 the several organs. These he determines by observing 
 what faculties predominate in the character of the indivi- 
 dual, and what particular portions of the brain have an 
 uniform development wherever those faculties are mani- 
 fested. The cranium in a healthy organization, with the 
 exception of the frontal sinus, corresponds in the main 
 with the brain surface which it covers. On the cranium 
 the phrenologist has marked the location of the different 
 faculties, the organs of which are ideal cones having the 
 base at the cranial surface, and the apex at the medulla 
 oblongata, which nearly corresponds to the axis, or line 
 connecting the meati auditorii. Figures 2, 3, 4, and 5, of 
 the plate will exhibit the manner of mapping out the dif- 
 ferent organs, and the faculties at the margin of the plate 
 will be found placed opposite to their corresponding num- 
 bers. In reference to organs it has been observed : 
 
 1. That in all ascertained instances, different functions 
 are never performed by the same organ, but that each 
 function has an organ by itself. Thus the stomach does 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 377 
 
 nothing but digest food, the liver nothing but secrete bile, 
 the lachrymal gland, tears, etc. 
 
 2. That the various mental powers of man appear in 
 succession, and as a general rule, that the reflecting or rea- 
 soning faculties are those which arrive latest at perfection. 
 
 3. That genius is almost always partial, and is owing to 
 the predominance of some large organ in the cerebral or- 
 ganization. 
 
 4. That the phenomena of dreaming are at variance with 
 the supposition of the mind manifesting all its faculties 
 by means of a single organ, while they are claimed to 
 be consistent with, and explicable by, that of a plurality 
 of organs. 
 
 5. The admitted phenomena of partial idiocy, aud 
 partial insanity, are only properly explainable upon the 
 principle of plurality of faculties and organs. 
 
 The general rule in relation to organs is that where other 
 things are equal, size of organ is a measure of streugth 
 and power in the faculty with which it is connected. This 
 comparison of size, however, must be made of organs in 
 the head of the same individual. When compared with 
 similar organs in the heads of different individuals other 
 things than size are to be taken into consideration. The 
 condition of the individual, and the temperaments, lym- 
 phatic, sanguine, bilious, and nervous, are then found very 
 considerably to modify the principle that size is a measure 
 of power. The indicia of these temperaments, however, 
 are pretty clearly ascertainable, and hence their influence 
 upon size, within the limits of calculation. 
 
 II. The second inquiry regards the mental faculty. 
 How defined, and what its peculiar function. Shall the 
 mind be regarded as a single general power, equally capa- 
 ble originally of operating to the same eftect in every 
 possible direction, or shall it be viewed as consisting of a 
 plurality of faculties, each independent of the others, and 
 
 VI] 48 
 
378 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 possessing its own specijBc function ? The latter is the 
 principle assumed by the doctrine of phrenology. It con- 
 siders each faculty in its nature primitive and designated 
 by the following rules : 1. It may exist in one kind of 
 animals, and not in another. 2. May vary in the two sexes 
 of the same species. 3. Is not necessarily proportionate to 
 the other faculties of the same individual. 4. Does not 
 necessarily manifest itself simultaneously with the other 
 faculties. 5. May act or rest singly. 6. Is descendible in 
 a direct line from parents to children. 7. May singly pre- 
 serve its proper state of health or disease. 
 
 The ascertainment of the faculties, subject to the appli- 
 cation of these rules, depends upon a profound mental 
 analysis, which to be complete must be exhaustive, and 
 include every distinct faculty with which humanity has 
 been endowed. 
 
 The faculties are primarily divisible into two great 
 orders. These are : 
 
 1. Feeling, and are termed affective faculties. 
 
 2. Intellect, and are termed intellectual faculties. 
 
 The two orders are again divisible each into two genera. 
 
 The affective faculties are divided into : 1. Propensities. 
 2. Sentiments. The first are applied to internal impulses, 
 which invite only to certain actions. The second desig- 
 nate other feelings, not limited to inclination alone, but 
 which have superadded an emotion of a peculiar kind. It 
 is characteristic of both these genera, however, that they 
 give birth only to blind impulses and emotions. They 
 have nothing intellectual or enlightening in their composi- 
 tion. They contain all the impulses to action, each in the 
 direction of its own specific function. In excess, they are 
 productive only of evil. How then are they directed, 
 restrained and modified ? By the action or influence of 
 the intellectual faculties. These form ideas, foresee con- 
 sequences, enlighten, and thus, in connection with some of 
 the sentiments, serve to resti^ain, modify, and direct the 
 propensities. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 379 
 
 The intellectual faculties are divided ioto : 
 
 1. Perceptive faculties. 
 
 2. Eeflective faculties. 
 
 The first take cognizance of things and their relations, 
 while the second reason upon them. According to tlie 
 doctrine as expounded by Spurzheim and Combe, the pro- 
 pensity faculties are nine in number, the sentiments twelve, 
 the perceptive faculties twelve, and the reflective two, in 
 all thirty-five. These faculties will be found stated on the 
 plate. The names of many of them will suggest the func- 
 tion of the faculty to which the name belongs. The 
 different works on phrenology are largely taken up in desig- 
 nating the function of each faculty. This is a matter into 
 which we do not propose to enter. So that we may next 
 consider. 
 
 III. The modes of activity which are common to all the 
 faculties of a particular class or order. The faculties were 
 all framed for action as fully as the muscles were for move- 
 ment. Those whose office it is to produce propensities and 
 sentiments cannot be excited to activity by any direct effort 
 of the will. They act : 1. From an internal excitement of 
 the organs. 2. Upon the presentment of external objects 
 fitted by nature to excite them. 3. By an indirect effort 
 of the will ; that is by the formation, by the intellectual facul- 
 ties of the ideas of objects fitted by nature to excite them ; 
 and on the presentment of those objects these faculties act. 
 The idea, for instance, of a being in distress excites the ac- 
 tion of the faculty of benevolence. 
 
 The perceptive, knowing, and reflective faculties, con- 
 stituting the intellect, become active from three causes : 1. 
 From internal excitement of the organs. 2. Upon the pre- 
 sentment of external objects fitted by nature to excite them. 
 3. By acts of volition. 
 
 When excited to activity all the faculties possess certain 
 modes of acting in common. The first of these, which is 
 confined to the affective faculties, and is independent of will. 
 
380 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 is sensation. This is common to all tlie affective faculties. 
 It is they only that feel. 
 
 The perceptive, knowing, and reflective faculties, that 
 form ideas and perceive relations have the following modes- 
 of action, viz : 
 
 1. Perception, which occurs on the presentment of 
 external objects in their nature fitted to excite them. It is 
 itidependent of will. Each faculty perceives only those 
 kinds of qualities, objects and relations, which it was ori- 
 ginally formed to perceive. When these same intellectual 
 faculties are active, not from the presentment of external 
 objects, but from the internal excitement of their organs, 
 the second mode of activity occurs, which is : 
 
 2. Conception. And if the act amounts to a very high 
 degree of vivacity, it is called imagination. Both these 
 reproduce previous perceptions. Each faculty conceives 
 and imagines within its own appropriate sphere. When 
 the faculties that form ideas become preternaturally active 
 through a morbid excitement, or from other causes, the 
 objects conceived or imagined become fixed, are invested 
 with a fearful reality, and thus constitute a species of 
 insanity. The phenomena of apparitions, or spectral illu- 
 sions, are explained upon these principles. It is the con- 
 ceptions formed by the internal activity of the organs that 
 constitute dreams. The activity of some of the organs, 
 accompanied with the quiescent state of others, explains 
 their incongruity. 
 
 .When the intellectual faculties are excited to action by 
 the direct influenceof the will, there occurs the third mode 
 of activity, viz : 
 
 3. Memory, which implies past time and a consciousness 
 of the previous existence of the ideas recalled. The same 
 faculty that originally perceives the object, quality, or 
 relation, is alone instrumental in recalling the perception. 
 Hence the great difference in men in their exercise of the 
 power of recollection, as they are found to differ greatly 
 from each other in regard to the extent with which they 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 381 
 
 are endowed with the perceptive, knowing and reflective 
 faculties. 
 
 There is one mode of activity peculiar 'to the reflective 
 faculties, and that is : 
 
 4. Judgment, which results from a powerful development 
 of comparison and causality. It is the decision of the re- 
 flective faculties upon the feelings furnished hy the pro- 
 pensities and sentiments, and upon the ideas furnished by 
 the perceptive and knowing ones. In estimating the effect 
 of the reflective faculties in ordinary life, the phrenologists 
 n\aintain that the propensities and sentiments furnish the 
 desires which prompt to action, and also the feelings which 
 regulate conduct; while reflection, without being able to 
 alter their nature, judges of the motives presented by them 
 to its consideration, and in so doing, takes in an extent of 
 view, greater or less, in proportion to the size of the 
 intellectual organs. 
 
 Consciousness means the knowledge which the mind has 
 of its own existence and operations. It is mind re- 
 cognizing itself in the varieties of its action. It is no 
 faculty itself, but appertains equally to every fundamental 
 faculty, each organ communicating consciousness of the 
 feelings and ideas which it serves to manifest. 
 
 Association expresses the mutual influence of the faculties 
 upon each other. It is claimed that there are no laws by 
 which ideas may be associated together, " that one may as 
 well expect by studying the forms and hues of the clouds, 
 which flit along the sky to-day, to be able to discover-laws, 
 by which their succession will be regulated to-morrow; 
 as by reflecting on the ideas which passin one mind, to 
 discover links of association, by which ideas in the minds 
 of mankind, in general, will be uniformly connected, and 
 introduced in a determinate succession." But while the 
 phrenologist repudiates any special law of association 
 among ideas, he holds that the powers that produce them, 
 the faculties themselv^es, are subject to association ;• that 
 there are natural associations betwixt certain external ob- 
 
382 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 jects and the internal faculties ; and that artificial associa- 
 tions may be formed betwixt objects and feelings of the 
 mind. The faculties that produce propensities and senti- 
 ments are associated with those that are productive of 
 ideas; as the conceiving an object in distress excites the 
 faculty of benevolence. Thus association becomes the 
 mutual bond through which the action of one faculty 
 generates the activity of another. The perceptive, knowing, 
 and reflective faculties are associated with, and mutually 
 assist each other. 
 
 Passion is the highest degree of activity of every fa- 
 culty. The passions may, therefore, be as numerous as 
 the faculties, and their kinds as various as their different 
 functions. 
 
 It has been objected to phrenology that the science of 
 mind it proposes is essentially based on materialism. But 
 an attentive examination of the subject will convince any 
 one that there is nowhere a confounding of the faculties 
 with their organs ; that no phrenologist anywhere asserts 
 that mind is the product of organization, but, on the con- 
 trary Spurzheim expressly says : '' Both Dr. Gall, and I, 
 have always declared that we merely observe the affective 
 and intellectual manifestations, and the organic conditions 
 under which they take place ; and that in using the word 
 organs, we only mean the organic parts by means of which 
 the faculties of the mind become apparent, but not that 
 these constitute the mind." N^o one will deny but that the 
 brain is the general organ of the mind, in the sense that 
 the powers and faculties of the one are developed, mani- 
 fested, or made to appear, through the material organization 
 of the other. In precisely the same way the phrenologist 
 asserts that each special faculty of the mind exists here 
 in connection with its organ, and that by means of such 
 connection it is enabled to display itself in the perform- 
 ance of its function. If this be materialism, every other 
 system of metaphysics must be amenable to the same 
 objection. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 383 
 
 From the very imperfect idea we have been enabled to 
 give of the doctrine of phrenology, it will be apparent that 
 the same character of remark made at the close of the 
 Scottish school of philosophy applies also with the same, or 
 greater, force to this. It makes no attempt to fathom depths 
 beyond human comprehension. It seeks not to discover 
 the essence of mind or of matter ; but regarding man as he 
 exists in this sublunary world, proposes merely to investi- 
 gate the laws which regulate the connection between the 
 organs of the mind, and the faculties which are manifested 
 through those organs. Those faculties, all must admit, are 
 to be found in the mind, and the phrenologist asserts in 
 connection with the special organs in and through which 
 they were designed to be manifested. It is in the special 
 functions of these faculties; in their connection with their 
 respective organs; and in their general modes of operation, 
 that the phrenologist claims that he has brought to light 
 important truths not only bearing upon physiology and 
 psychology, but also upon man in his social and moral re- 
 lations, and upon mind in the multiplied forms of disease 
 to which it may be subject, and also upon the criminal 
 jurisprudence of the nations of the world. 
 
 The German School : Critical Philosophy — Kant 
 
 The CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY of the German school is an- 
 other rebound from the skepticism of Hume. Its exponent 
 is Emmanuel Kant, born at Konigsberg, in Prussia, in 1724, 
 and died in 1804. He was the contemporary of Reid. 
 
 The point of rebound, which produced the Scottish 
 school, was that of annihilation of the material and mental 
 worlds. Hence the idea of the duality of consciousness. 
 
 The point of rebound, which gave origin to the critical 
 philosophy, was the denial of all necessary connection be- 
 tween successive events the principle of causality. Hence 
 the resort to original necessary truths, the recognition, by 
 philosophy, of the rationalistic element. 
 
384 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The two points, two problems, presented by Hame, one 
 regarding the existence of the material and mental worlds, 
 the other the reality of cause, were to be met and solved. 
 Hume had presented them, and defined them so sharply 
 that no one could avoid them. He had marked out the 
 road that would not lead to their solution. It remained 
 for those who might follow, to find a new road, to present a 
 new solution. We have seen in what manner the philo- 
 sophy of common sense has done it. It now remains to exa- 
 mine the critical philosophy. 
 
 This philosophy had its origin in Kant, as the empirical 
 had in Bacon. The former took the same position with 
 regard to experience and human knowledge that the latter 
 had taken with respect to nature. To the former came for 
 explanation the facts of experience ; to the latter, the facts 
 of nature. The explanation of a fact is the showing under 
 all circumstances, the conditions under which it occurs. 
 These must necessarily precede the fact,^ and be sought 
 before the fact itself The only knowledge known and 
 acknowledged by Hume, and by the great majority of philo- 
 sophers, was an empirical knowledge. Descartes and 
 Leibnitz, it is true, had taught difierently, but the former 
 had insisted upon innate ideas, and the latter had given only 
 scattered hints, which, although they no doubt had their 
 influence upon the German mind, were, nevertheless, not 
 wrought into a perfect system. 
 
 It remained, therefore, for Kant to seek out and explain 
 the conditions of empirical knowledge. "Where was he to 
 seek and find them ? The German metaphysicians had 
 gone above knowledge, and sought its conditions in innate 
 ideas, and failed to find them there. The English and 
 French sensualists had them in knowledge itself with a like 
 failure. Kant sought them before knowledge. He sought 
 the powers and faculties of knowledge, which in action con- 
 stitute experience. Those conditions, which as necessary 
 
 ' Fischer, 497. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 385 
 
 functions, precede experience, he called " transcendental." 
 Thus what Kant supposed to be prior to knowledge is not 
 itself knowledge,^ but consists of the knowledge-forming 
 faculties, that in themselves are empty. These pure facul- 
 ties he denominated the *' pure reason." Thus we pass 
 from the tabula rasa of Locke, and the " innate idea " of 
 Descartes and Leibnitz, to the " pure reason," the aggre- 
 gate of powers and knowledge-forming faculties that con- 
 stitute man as man, that give the essence of humanity. 
 
 Bacon discovered empirical philosophy in seeking the 
 necessary laws of nature, and Kant the critical in the 
 necessary laws of experience. It is the great merit claimed 
 by Kant that he brought experience to the test of higher 
 laws; that he found something fixed and permanent to 
 which he could anchor its fluctuating phenomena; some- 
 thing necessary by which to rule and govern the contingent. 
 
 Kant started with the same objects as Locke had done 
 before him. The purpose of the latter was to investigate 
 the powers and limits of the human understanding. That 
 of the former to " search into the true origin of our ideas,^ 
 and to define the proper boundaries of human knowledge." 
 But although starting with the same general objects in 
 view, yet the roads they pursued were entirely difierent. 
 
 The great endeavor of Locke was to deduce the laws, or 
 more properly the necessity of thinking, from external ob- 
 jects, the objective. The foundation upon which Locke 
 rested was, that our ideas were representation, produced by 
 outward objects, and are only truthful, if and in so far as 
 they owe their origin to outward objects, and are not pro- 
 duced by ourselves. This, we have seen, led to two results, 
 both legitimate; the one materialistic, the other skeptical. 
 The latter had been pushed by Hume into its ultimate 
 consequences, and in the denial of cause and effect the 
 foundation of all knowledge was destroyed. 
 
 ' Mscher, 498. " Morell, 154. 
 VI] 49 
 
386 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Kant affirmed the skepticism of Hume. Upon Hume's 
 ground, taken from Locke, that experience was the only 
 source of knowledge, he admitted that there was between 
 successive events no necessary connection. But he made 
 the origin of experience itself the object of investigation, 
 to ascertain under what conditions its developments were 
 made, and to what laws they were subject. Instead, there- 
 fore, of going into the objects of knowledge, and educing 
 from them a system of philosophy, Kant went into the con- 
 sideration of the mind, the subjective ; criticizing its facul- 
 ties, determining its capacities and seeking after those laws, 
 or conditions, upon which the verity of all knowledge 
 reposes. His primary division of all mental phenomena 
 is threefold, the same in substance as that adopted from 
 him by Sir William Hamilton. These are : 
 
 Kj^nt, Sik William Hamilton. 
 
 1. Knowing, Cognitive Faculties. 
 
 2. Feeling, Feeling Faculties. 
 
 3. Desire and Will, Conative Faculties. 
 
 All these faculties have their ground, origin, cause, or 
 media, in or through which they are enabled to act, in 
 three great sources: the sensory; the understanding; 
 the reason. Of these the first has its intuitions ; the second 
 is conceptions formed under its categories ; and the third 
 its ideas. 
 
 As in the ideas of the latter are found intelligence, unity 
 and identity rendering it the highest in the scale, Kant 
 divides that into : the theoretical reason, and the practical 
 reason. In the former are contained the principles of 
 knowledge; in the latter those of desire and will. And 
 to unite the two together is required : the judgment, 
 which term, however, is here employed in a different sense 
 from that ordinarily in use. Hence the three critics of 
 Kant : 
 
 1. The critic of the pure — theoretical — reason. 
 
 2. The critic of the practical reason. 
 
 3. The critic of the judgment. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 387 
 
 It is mainly in the first that the knowledge-problem is 
 sought to be solved, and that in a manner different from 
 any ever before devised. 
 
 To the existence of all our cognitions, notions, or ideas, 
 two factors, as they are termed, are essential, viz : The 
 sensory and the understanding. These are commonly 
 called the two factors of all knowledge, or, as Kant has 
 termed them, the two stacks of our knowledge, whether 
 springing from a common root, or not, we may never be 
 able to determine. 
 
 The operation singly of either one of these factors would 
 be entirely unproductive, and accomplish nothing. It is 
 in the contributions of each, and the union of both, that 
 we are to seek for the result. The sensor brings the matter, 
 the bare material, of which our sensous cognitions are 
 formed. That is all it can furnish. 
 
 The elements thus contributed by this factor, are to have 
 added to them, or woven about them connections, rela- 
 tions, forms. They are to become conceptions of the 
 understanding formed under its categories. These came 
 entirely from within, and belong, therefore, to the subjective 
 element. It is this that can alone furnish the form under, 
 or in obedience to which, cognitions take place. By 
 destroying the sensor factor, therefore, no material could 
 be furnished, and by annihilating the understanding factor, 
 the very conditions under which experience becomes pos- 
 sible would be rendered of no effect. The first is receptive 
 in its character ; the second spontaneous. The receptivity 
 of the one induces the spontaniety of the other. It is when 
 the intuitions of the one become clothed with the k priori 
 connections, relations or forms furnished by the other, that 
 an idea or cognition becomes perfect. 
 
 As an illustration. Events in succession are presented 
 by the sensor factor, but nothing more. They are intui- 
 tions. But on the perception of successive events arises 
 the conception of a cause. This is the principle of caus- 
 ality, and comes from the understanding. It is that factor 
 
388 
 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 supplying the connection, relation, form ; and this, together 
 with the facts, gives the perfect idea. The intuitions, 
 without the form, are totally blind, and wholly lacking in 
 significance. And so also the form, the conception of the 
 understanding, without the intuition, would be empty, 
 amounting to nothing. 
 
 Kant investigates the understanding in order to deter- 
 mine all the modes or forms of the judgment of which it 
 is susceptible, and these he proposes to be exhaustive. 
 They are four in number : 1. Quantity. 2. Quality. 3. 
 Relation. 4. Modality. The first embraces judgments 
 which are individual, particular, universal. The second 
 those which are aflSrmative, negative and limitative. The 
 third those which are categorical, hypothetic and disjunc- 
 tive ; and the fourth those which are problematical, asser- 
 tory and necessary. 
 
 From these modes of the judgment are derived the fol- 
 lowing categories : 
 
 Quantity 
 
 Quality 
 
 ' Unity 
 Plurality 
 
 ^ Universality 
 
 ' Reality 
 Negation 
 Limitation 
 
 Relation 
 
 Modality 
 
 Substance and accident 
 Causality and dependence 
 Action and reaction 
 
 ' Possibility and impossibility- 
 Existence and nonexistence 
 ^ Necessity and contingence 
 
 Thus we have twelve categories under the frame-work 
 of which are conceived all the notions of which we are sua- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 389 
 
 ceptible. These are the conditions standing before all- 
 knowledge. They supply the connections, relations, forms 
 in which all intuitions are clothed. They are all 4 priori 
 in their character. They are neither influenced nor modi- 
 fied by any intuition, but are called into action by those 
 intuitions which are fitted to excite them to activity. They 
 have the characteristic of laws; of laws that preside over 
 experience, and that govern the intuitions which it pun- 
 ishes. The attributes that belong to them, and are deve- 
 loped by their action, are universality and necessity. 
 
 These are the machinery of the understanding ; but, like 
 all machinery, they are empty of themselves, and only be- 
 come productive of efiects when the proper material is 
 brought within the sphere of its action. This material is 
 the intuitions furnishqd by the sensor factor. These intui- 
 tions arise upon the presentation of phenomena to the sen- 
 sory. The inquiry is made by Kant whether the sensor 
 factor has not also its categories, or forms of its intuitions, 
 as well as the understanding ; and these he finds upon in- 
 vestigation to be two in number, viz : space and time. 
 These are not termed by Kant categories, but general sche- 
 mata, or forms of sensuous intuition. The warrant for this 
 is found in consciousness. The moment any intuition gives 
 us a perception we feel constrained to place it in some space, 
 and in a given time. These are as essential to the intui- 
 tion as the categories of the understanding are to the 
 conception. They are the conditions which precede the 
 possibility of experiencing any perception. They^ are, 
 therefore, a priori in their character, and are the modes in 
 which the soul behaves itself when in a state of intuition. 
 Space belongs to the external sense, and time to the inter- 
 nal. By the former objects external to ourselves become 
 intuitions. By the latter, the facts of our own internal con- 
 sciousness. We arrive at the former by abstracting every- 
 thing belonging to the matter of our sensations; and at the 
 latter by abstracting everything belonging to the matter of 
 our inner sense. These schemata, according to Kant, stand 
 
390 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 on a kind of middle ground between the categories and 
 the intuitions, having something in common with each. In 
 their k priori character they are assimilated to the catego- 
 ries, and in the fact that everything phenomenal must be 
 represented in space or time they find their relations with 
 intuitions. It is through them that we are enabled to apply 
 the conceptions formed under the categories to phenomena. 
 
 The inquiry naturally suggests itself here as to what is 
 subjective and objective in our cognitions. Everything pun- 
 nished k priori must come from the mind, is subjective, while 
 everything k posteriori comes from the object, and is objec- 
 tive. The conditions, connections, relations, forms of 
 thought, as also space and time, all proclaim the notion 
 forming process to be subjective. What is there remaining 
 that can belong to the object? Its whole appearance and 
 contents, as presented in idea, is subjective, and we have 
 nothing that we can figure to ourselves as being a quality of 
 the object itself^ All we can certainly give credit to as an k 
 posteriori is the actual phenomenon and its presence at the 
 time of the cognition. It must also have conceded to it the 
 power of causing the formation of conceptions by the un- 
 derstanding, but aside from an existing phenomenon and 
 such a power, which again is entirely subjective in its 
 effect, we are, and must forever, remain in utter and hope- 
 less ignorance of any qualities that may lie back of the 
 phenomenon and belong to the object itself. Even Kant 
 has somewhere thrown out the conjecture whether the ego 
 and the thing in itself may not possibly be the same think- 
 ing substance. Thus the Kantian system must fail to show 
 us the road, so often sought in vain, that leads from the 
 subjective to the objective. 
 
 In reference to the occurrence of phenomena, Kant states 
 the following principles as the postulates of empirical 
 thinking : " 1. That which coincides with the formal con- 
 ditions of experience is possible^ and can become pheno- 
 
 Schwegle, 345. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 391 
 
 meDon. 2. That which agrees with the material condi- 
 tions of experience is actual and is phenomenon. 3. That, 
 whose connection with the actual is determined according 
 to the universal conditions of experience, is necessary, and 
 must be phenomenon." 
 
 We have hitherto been limited to the sensory and the 
 understanding. Superadded to these is the reason, the 
 faculty of the unconditioned. As the categories of the 
 understanding bring order and connection into our intui- 
 tions, so is it the province of the 'reason to infuse unity 
 and connection into the conceptions of the understanding. 
 This it does by drawing conclusions.^ 
 
 The reason has its ideas, and these by exhibiting to the 
 understanding the unconditioned, that perfectness which 
 is its great aim, imparts to it something beyond what expe- 
 rience could ever furnish. The reason has as many ideas 
 as we have ways of connecting together our judgments 
 into conclusions. These are three in number : 1. The 
 categorical. 2. The hypothetical. 3. The disjunctive. 
 The first gives the relationship of substance and accident. 
 The second, that of ground and consequence. The third 
 that of parts and a whole. 
 
 The question may be asked whether reason can be iso- 
 lated from the understanding, and become, of itself a 
 source of notions and judgments. The reply is, that rea- 
 son, being different from the understanding, may be sepa- 
 rated and isolated.^ That to the understanding belongs 
 experience, and to the reason the perfecting of our subjec- 
 tive consciousness. That while the understanding furnishes 
 the subjective laws of thinking as applied to experience, 
 and depending on the sense world for confirmation and 
 material, the reason, having to do with ideas, " is occupied 
 with itself alone and ruminates on its own notions." As 
 the cognitions of the understanding are furnished in expe- 
 rience, so its principles may look to that for confirmation. 
 
 ^ Chalyhaus, 52. ^ Idem, 55. 
 
392 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 while the ideas of the reason, not having been given by 
 experience, cannot be confirmed or refuted by it. 
 
 The relations between the reason and the understanding, 
 under the Kantian system, are very well set forth by Jacob 
 as the special terms of agreement between the two. 
 '' Eeason, " says he, ''is to forbid to the understanding all 
 power of denying, and understanding to reason all power 
 of affirming.^ Eeason is to acknowledge and respect the 
 understanding, and to be kept by it within positive limits. 
 But the limitation of the understanding, by reason, is only 
 to appearance and negative, and the former without sur- 
 rendering its own proper activity, employs the ideas of 
 reason for the purpose of enlarging as much as possible its 
 own province. Eeason occupies the upper, understanding 
 the lower house. It is the latter which represents sensi- 
 bility, the real seat of sovereignty, without the ratification 
 of which nothing can possess any validit}^ " 
 
 From the three ideas of the reason, before mentioned, 
 the categorical, the hypothetical, and the disjunctive, giving 
 rise to the three relationships of substance and accident, 
 ground and consequence, parts and whole, three avenues 
 are opened up : the first to absolute subject, the immortal 
 soul ; the second the idea of nature or world ; the third, 
 that of the most perfect being, God : the first affording the 
 rational psychology ; the second cosmology ; and the third 
 theology. And yet when the reason attempts to apply 
 the categories of the understanding to the unconditioned, 
 it ends in paralogism, illusion ; or in antinomies, contra- 
 dictions. 
 
 For instance, as regards the first, the absolute subject, 
 the immortal soul, its conceptions and feelings being its 
 accidents, its own mere modifications and changes ought 
 to proclaim a something really existing at the foundation, 
 a pure subject, whose existence is evidenced by conscious- 
 ness. But Kant replies that this is a paralogism, because 
 
 GhaXybaus, 57, 58. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 393 
 
 the consciousness is really limited to the modifications and 
 changes, the conceptions and feelings, and can give a 
 knowledge of nothing beyond these. The subject itself re- 
 mains unknown, never being the object either of external or 
 internal experience. We know as little, according to Kant, 
 of the essence of our souls as of that of external objects. 
 
 The same attempt of reason to educe a pure cosmology 
 leads to antinomies, inasmuch as reason can neither conceive 
 that the world had a commencement in time,^ nor that it 
 had not; neither that it has or has not a limitation iu 
 space. This and other contradictions always present them- 
 selves whenever the forms of the finite are sought to be 
 transported into the infinite, or to make an application of 
 the infinite to the finite. The real character of the one we 
 can never change into the other. The world, and every- 
 thing about it, is finite, and we can never change its 
 character, never clothe it with the forms of the infinite. 
 The formula which could embrace the infinite with the 
 finite, keeping the two united without identifying them, 
 could never be found by Kant.^ 
 
 The search made by reason after an all perfect being, 
 God, is equally unsuccessful. It is urged here, that it is 
 impossible to destroy such a being in our thinking, and 
 hence his existence must necessarily remain. But Kant 
 replies that here one of two things must be true. Either : 
 1. This being is identical with our thinking, and then does 
 not exist in and by itself; or, 2. He is not identical with it, 
 and then to destroy or take him away will not involve 
 any contradiction with our thinking. 
 
 In the first part of the alternative, Kant was treading on 
 the very verge of pantheism, so very near that some of his 
 followers readily passed over, and identified thought with 
 existence, subject with object. 
 
 The argument of inferring the existence of God from the 
 traces of design everywhere observable in creation, can, ac- 
 
 ^ GTialyhaus, 61. '^ Idem, 63. 
 VI] 50 
 
394 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 cording to Kant, lay no claim to absolute certainty : because 
 the only inference authorized to be drawn is that from 
 analogy of human works/ God can only be the author 
 of the form of the world, and not of its substance or 
 matter ; as simply an architect, but not as creator, nor as 
 an original essence. Another answer is that from all this 
 order and design, the inference may be a law of life in- 
 herent in nature, and operating blindly in the production 
 of results. 
 
 Thus the theoretical, or pure reason, leaves man forever 
 to grope his way in the sphere of the conditioned without 
 a rational psychology, cosmology, or theology, without 
 any real light from reason relating either to the soul, the 
 world, or to God. Although it makes the strongest possi- 
 ble efforts towards the apprehension of each one of these, 
 yet being tied down to the categories of the understanding, 
 and these again acting upon the sensor intuitions, all such 
 effects are, and ever must be, utterly unavailing. This 
 brings us : 
 
 2. To the critic of the practical reason, where the de- 
 ficiencies of the theoretical are sought to be supplied. We 
 leave the sphere of knowledge with the theoretical or pure 
 reason, and with the practical enter that of rational faith. 
 Here we find certainty, but it differs from knowledge. We 
 have here no cognitions. We are amidst the principles of 
 ethics. 
 
 Kant, to be consistent with himself, could only acknow- 
 ledge a moral philosophy sufficient to lead the soul to 
 itself, to the world, and to God, when it was purged of 
 every empirical element. The ethical element embraces 
 not what is, which is derived from the empirical, but what 
 ought to be, which should come from the rational. 
 
 As the essential condition of all ethical evolution, Kant 
 evokes the principle of liberty " that innermost and highest 
 
 ^ Ghalybaus, 69. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 395 
 
 principle of our soul, which it was felt impossible to grasp 
 as substance, and as me in theoretical reason."^ This he 
 constituted as the centre of gravity of his entire system. 
 As the supersensual and the unconditioned had escaped the 
 utmost reaching of the theoretical reason, so he here com- 
 menced by leaving the principle of freedom completely 
 void, undetermined, and abstract. He gives it no deter- 
 mined character, no fixed organization. It is at bottom 
 simply unlimited and unconditioned freedom, going forth 
 from itself indetermined into that which is external, and 
 taking from it its shape and character. The inclinations 
 and desires, what are termed by Kant the contents of this 
 freedom, are derived from the empirical principle. With 
 these it has to contend, and out of this contest are virtue 
 and morality born. To be free it is requisite to set aside 
 natural desires, and to practice that which is right only be- 
 cause it is right, and not because it may accord with incli- 
 nation. This is termed by Kant the " law of the categorical 
 imperative," and is engaged in a continuous opposition 
 against the external.^ 
 
 There is, therefore, according to Kant, a possible moral 
 law, and out of an entire obedience to it arises the possi- 
 bility of a perfect virtue, and from this last a perfect hap- 
 piness. 
 
 From the possibility of the moral law he derives the reality 
 of the idea of freedom ; ^ from that of a perfect virtue the 
 idea of the soul's immortality ; and from the necessary 
 demand of a perfect happiness, the idea of God. Neither 
 the soul's immortality, nor the idea of G-od are matters of 
 cognition. They have no existence in thought. They 
 belong purely to feeling, and their recognition in that is 
 conditioned upon the fact: that in that is apprehended 
 freedom which it given to us a priori, as an inner fact, a 
 fact of the inner experience; arising in ourselves, and 
 having nothing to do with our outward experience. 
 
 ^Ghalyhaus, 73. ' "" Idem, 73. ^ ScJiwegU, 258. 
 
396 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 But in passing out of its own charmed circle it encoun- 
 ters on the one hand the law of the categorical imperative, 
 which flows from the reason ; and on the other, the desires 
 and inclinations, which, as they arise from the experience 
 of what is felt as pleasing or displeasing, are due to an 
 empirical origin. 
 
 It is obvious from this statement, that at least in one 
 view of it, the ethics of Kant cannot be regarded as purely 
 rationalistic, but that the empirical is mixed up with the 
 rational in his theory. To escape from it we are driven 
 back, and limited to the principle of pure freedom, and are 
 obliged to recognize in that the very centre of gravitation 
 in Kant's entire system. Around this revolves virtue, 
 happiness, the soul's immortality and God. But it has, at 
 least, this impediment and obstruction, that in passing out 
 of itself it meets a nature, and empiricism, something 
 external, which, upon the system of Kant, had baffled all 
 the powers of cognition to make its acquaintance, and 
 which now presents itself as an equal barrier to the will. 
 An intelligence should be invoked sufficient to comprehend 
 the objective, to recognize in external nature something 
 more than phenomena, before man can stand forth an 
 object comprehensible to himself. 
 
 Kant himself felt that there was a gap left between his 
 theoretical and practical reason. The one had built up a 
 world of conceptions by applying categories to the intui- 
 tions of sense ; while the other had constructed a moral 
 world, having for its key-note the principle of freedom. 
 Where lay the road from the one to the other? This 
 introduces his third division, viz : 
 
 3. Critic of the faculty of judgment, which is the middle 
 link between the understanding as the faculty of concep- 
 tions, and the reason as the faculty of principles. 
 
 The principle of freedom, in order to be such, must 
 exercise an influence upon nature. But nature proceeds 
 necessarily, and in accordance with its own laws. As the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 397 
 
 one, therefore, is apparently wholly independent of the 
 other, the inquiry naturally arises how the two can be con- 
 nected together. 
 
 The link by which this is effected is found in the feelings, 
 those especially of pleasure and pain, those which we have 
 seen entering the doniain of freedom, and contesting with 
 the law of the categorical imperative, the domination over 
 the will. This is accomplished by what Kant calls the 
 faculty of judgment. 
 
 The object of this faculty may be briefly expressed as the 
 conception of design in nature. It is found in the agree- 
 ment or fitness of means to ends. This is developed in the 
 actions of free beings, and is susceptible of transference 
 into the actions of nature by a conception of the union of 
 nature with the freedom which acts in it and by it. 
 
 The faculty of judgment — the latter term having here a 
 different meaning from that ordinarily given to it — has two 
 modes of operation. By means of one mode it takes into 
 consideration that concurrence of means in the forms of 
 things, and of means to ends, and all those admirable 
 arrangements in creation which give rise to the sentiment 
 of pleasure, which develop in our nature the esthetical. 
 Here we have his theory of the sublime and beautiful, both 
 being purely subjective in their nature. 
 
 The beautiful is found by Kant in the consciousness of 
 an ability we possess to bring that vast variety which the 
 imagination represents to us to one idea of the understand- 
 ing. As one great regulative process of the reason-is to 
 unify, and as the exercise of its function is always attended 
 with pleasure, so the perception of unity in the midst of 
 variety always gives rise to a pleasant sensation. There is 
 also accompanying it the sentiment of our own power in 
 successful exercise, and this accompaniment gives addi- 
 tional satisfaction. 
 
 The sentiment of the sublime, on the contrary, arises 
 out of the consciousness of our utter inability to embrace 
 by any effort of imagination ideas which the reason presents 
 
398 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 to us.^ The immensity of this disproportion in our power 
 is accompanied with a feeling of sadness, as it gives us a 
 realizing sense of our weakness. But it is also accom- 
 panied bj a feeling of exaltation because we feel ourselves 
 superior by our reason to the world of sensible things. 
 
 The other mode by which this faculty acts is termed by 
 Kant the teleological. It is this judgment which seeks to 
 penetrate the inner design of nature, and to understand 
 for what purpose that design develops itself in organic pro- 
 ducts. It carries into the theory of nature the principle of 
 final causes, or the relation of means to ends, applied not 
 to the forms, but to the real constitution of things. In 
 nature's organic product it regards every one of its parts 
 as end, and every one also as means or instrument. " In 
 the process of generation, the natural product appears as 
 species,^ in growth it appears as individual, and in the 
 process of complete formation, every part of the individual 
 shows itself." In view of this judgment beings are organ- 
 ized to attain certain particular ends, and each special 
 organization is to be regarded as a dependence of a general 
 organization of nature in which particular ends are only 
 the means of a supreme and universal end. 
 
 The philosophy of Kant obviously leaves the great life 
 problem wholly unsolved. He marks out no pathway from 
 the subjective to the objective. In fact, he annihilates the 
 objective by denying that any of the qualities of things in 
 themselves are brought to our minds. "We are living accord- 
 ing to him, in a phenomenal world, those phenomena being 
 the intuitions of the sense as moulded and made such by 
 the categories of the understanding. By attributing to 
 these categories such great and general powers, and by 
 investing them with the qualities of universality and neces- 
 sity, he in efiect surrenders nature up to mind, and verges 
 hard on upon a terrible idealism, an entire absorption of all 
 the outward creation into mind. 
 
 ' History of Philosophy, ii, 109, 110. ' 8cJiwegle, 267. 
 
EUROPE -ITS PHILOSOPHY. 399 
 
 His attempted deduction of the immortal soul and of 
 God from the practical reason betrays the weakness of his 
 system, because the theoretical reason is the only possible 
 avenue to knowledge, and the practical can have no other 
 basis than in the ideas borrowed from it. Hence if in the 
 theoretical he furnishes the intelligence with no means of 
 arriving at these great truths, he shuts out the being forever 
 from any apprehension of them. 
 
 We ought not, however, to be unmindful of the great 
 merits of Kant. He was a great and profound thinker. 
 His system furnishes the evidence of more deep, continuous, 
 systematic and elaborate thinking than that of any pre- 
 vious modern, and, perhaps, ancient philosopher. He took 
 much clearer distinctions than any before him of the dif- 
 ferent kinds of mental operations, and sought to mark out, 
 by clear and definite boundaries, the empires respectively 
 of the sense, the understanding and the reason. By marking 
 out clearly the line of demarkation between the conceptions 
 of the understanding and the intuitions of sense, and by 
 attaching to the latter the qualities of the varied, limited, 
 contingent, and to the former those of universality and 
 necessity, he indicated a criterion by which to distinguish 
 two great bodies of human knowledge; the one empirical, 
 the result of experience, bearing about it the uncertainty 
 that flows from the varied, limited, and contingent ; the 
 other the exact, mathematical, clothed with all the certainty 
 which can be gathered up from the universal and the 
 necessary. 
 
 The system of Kant was indeed a fruitful soil. In it we 
 shall find the germ of many philosophies. 
 
 Idealism : Fichie. 
 
 There are four German philosophies having their roots 
 in the system of Kant. These are severally represented by 
 Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Herbart and Jacobi. 
 
400 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born in upper Lusatia in 
 1762, and died in 1814. 
 
 It is, says Chalybaus, in the writings of Fichte, and these 
 only, that we can obtain the key to the understanding of 
 all modern philosophers.^ 
 
 It was not to be expected that the reflecting mind of 
 Europe, especially of Germany, would long rest satisfied 
 with the system of Kant. It contained within itself princi- 
 ples that required to be developed to be pushed into results 
 which Kant himself did not anticipate. Fichte commenced 
 with being a disciple of Kant, and supposed himself only 
 unfolding his system, until the latter was driven to a formal 
 protest against the interpretation which the former was 
 placing upon his doctrine. 
 
 The two factors, sensor and understanding, given in the 
 philosophy of Kant, were to be developed. Of these two, 
 the leaning was much the strongest towards the under- 
 standing, in whose categories were recognized the forms 
 fixed and permanent, in subjection to which all thought must 
 necessarily occur. This gave a strong preponderance to 
 the subjective element, and indicated that as the one first 
 to be pursued into its ultimate consequences. Hence the 
 mission of Fichte. 
 
 The later writings of Fichte are found to modify some- 
 what his earlier views. His system of philosophy as first 
 promulgated, has been styled a subjective idealism. It is 
 that which looks to consciousness alone, not only as the 
 means of revealing, but also as the subject matter of what 
 is revealed. The Scottish school had introduced the exter- 
 nal world through the duality of consciousness. The school 
 of Kant had denied this duality, and by assuming the unity 
 of consciousness had limited the reality of the knowledge 
 obtained from it to the interior operations of the thinking 
 being itself, while the external creation, the objective, 
 standing apart and exterior to the subjective, although it 
 
 8chwegle, 183. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 401 
 
 may have a reality in itself, yet that reality could never be 
 known to us, and that all our knowledge must be limited 
 to the phenomena, the appearances there presented. 
 
 Fichte starting from the Kantian stand point, merely de- 
 duced its logical consequence. The interior operations, 
 those of the mind itself, being those only of which con- 
 sciousness could take cognizance, its testimony must be 
 limited to those alone. When we have arrived at the limits 
 of consciousness we have attained the limits of all know- 
 ledge. E"either have we any right to posit existence or 
 being beyond our knowledge of it. Thus all objective 
 existence, as such, is rendered impossible, totally excluded. 
 The phenomena, appearances, are to us the objects, and the 
 only objective that we are capable of recognizing. But 
 these have no real objectivity. They are only the phases, 
 phenomenal outcrops, so to term them, of our own con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 Fichte did not in terms deny the reality of the external 
 world. He only denied the existence of it as a thing in 
 itself, and as separate and independent of the thinking 
 principle. His position was, that as consciousness alone 
 brought us a knowledge of it, and afforded us no other in- 
 timation of its origin than as coming from ourselves, and 
 as we have no other warrant for knowledge than that which 
 is furnished by consciousness, we are necessarily shut up 
 to the conclusion that what appears to us as external is 
 nothing more than a reflex of ourselves ; that we from the 
 depths of our own nature, actually produce, give origin, to 
 all those varied appearances of the external universe with 
 which we become acquainted. That the trees, and fields, 
 and streams, and thousand other objects, that are passing 
 before us in their almost infinite variety, are nothing but 
 creations of our own thinking principle, only evolutions from 
 ourselves. 
 
 When reminded that our consciousness, on whose testi- 
 mony he relied, referred us to an external world as con- 
 taining objects possessing the qualities it authorized us to 
 
 VI] 51 
 
402 HISTORY OF CIVILIZAl'ION. 
 
 attribute to them, his reply was that this very reference 
 was subjective, an outgrowth of the thinking principle, and 
 that we were, therefore, still within the circle of our own 
 consciousness. 
 
 There was, however, another question presented very 
 difficult of answer. Assuming the ground of Fichte that 
 everything apparently external is in reality only a reflex 
 image, a representation of an internal evolution, how is it 
 that we are compelled to receive it in the order in which 
 it is presented? We can recall to our minds a varied land- 
 scape, and by our own internal mental activity we can re- 
 arrange its objects, or we can create one in our own minds, 
 giving to it whatever variety we choose. That is owing to 
 the entire freedom we possess and exercise over the move- 
 ments of our own minds. But if the objects and scenes 
 which enter into the composition of that landscape are 
 originally a part of our own thinking principle, nothing but 
 internal creations of our own minds, why can we not actually 
 perceive them just as our will would dictate ? All external 
 objects have to our perception the same relative location. 
 However variously we may imagine a landscape, we cannot 
 perceive one except as it preseiats itself to ns. Whence 
 come the fetters that bind our will in the one case, leaving 
 it to its entire freedom in the other ? Whence the fixed 
 determinateness of object that everywhere greets our 
 original perceptions ? 
 
 To meet this objection Fichte was compelled to descend 
 to a sphere below that of consciousness. He was com- 
 pelled to assume that there is such a thing as uncon- 
 scious representations ; or that there were determhiations, 
 modifications of the inner man, states of the soul, that had 
 an existence prior to the active exercise of consciousness. 
 Fichte everywhere takes for granted that consciousness is 
 only a becoming acquainted with that which is already 
 existent, and that when that which is thus existent, appears 
 in consciousness, it appears under fixed determinations 
 caused not by itself but by something else. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 403 
 
 It might be answered that consciousness must have a 
 very singular modification, to allow it to be nonexistent in 
 regard to matters which are themselves the creation, and a 
 part of its possessor. And it may be asked whence is de- 
 rived the law that renders consciousness nonexistent, or at 
 least nonobservant as to all physical arrangements ; that 
 compels all souls to receive as fixed and unchangeable, all 
 those matters of perception, which are derived wholly from 
 themselves, and upon the disposition and arrangement of 
 which so large a portion of their happiness depends ? 
 
 Fichte, it is true, points the final cause or reason why 
 these original determinations should exist. He denomi- 
 nates the soul a free activity, and gives it originally an 
 unlimited freedom, attributing to it the power of acting, 
 moving, and developing in every direction alike. If there- 
 fore it had no limits imposed upon it, it would go off in an 
 unlimited expansion ; or taking one direction, would pro- 
 gress eternally in it, without ever returning. 
 
 He therefore regards it as evidencing the highest wisdom 
 that the me^ as he terms it, the ego^ i, should be restrained 
 in its otherwise entirely free operations by the limitations 
 which it encounters in the not me, the non ego, by which it 
 everywhere surrounds itself. The me, according to Fichte, 
 " presupposes something,^ and that external to, and which 
 is not itself. It perceives within itself a defect," a negation 
 of its individual self-activity in regard to its intuitions, and 
 as everything must have a cause, presupposes other exist- 
 ences to determine these intuitions. It affirms a not me, 
 and ascribes to it that activity and causality which it is con- 
 scious itself does not exercise. Hence the assumption or 
 representation of objects without us is only a conception 
 of the me, an assumption made by the me itself. It is true, 
 it is an assumption to which we are forced to have recourse, 
 but only in the sense of being forced upon us by the pecu- 
 liar subjective laws of thinking of the me, viz : by the law 
 
 ' Chalyhaus, 188. 
 
404 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 of thought relating to a causa sufficiens, which law is, of 
 course, again to be traced to the me and nothing else." 
 
 Thus the doctrine of Fichte affirms that there are in us 
 representations and images which we get in some way of 
 which we are not conscious ; and after that we conceive 
 objects external to ourselves, in order to account for the 
 origin of these images. Thus, man by thinking, creates 
 objects to himself, represents them to himself, conceives 
 them as there, and in no other sense have they any ex- 
 istence for him. These objects are only the reflex of 'our 
 own internal laws of intuition, and at the same time also 
 their product. As they cannot be deduced from the in- 
 fluences exerted by anything external, we must regard them 
 as the ultimate limit of all our knowledge. 
 
 Fichte did not start with the idea of originating a new 
 system of philosophy. It was his desire to furnish a doc- 
 trine of science, and this he proposed to build upon a single 
 principle, and thus to give it a perfect unity. This principle 
 was subjectivity, and the witness he brought forward on 
 all occasions to establish his positions was consciousness. 
 This was a witness no one could impeach, and yet its 
 testimony was very differently construed by the Scottish 
 and Fichtian schools. It was important, therefore, for Fichte 
 to furnish a clear idea of consciousness.^ 
 
 According to Fichte, consciousness may be looked upon 
 as the central point in which all representations unite. It 
 is the faculty, the power which perceives. It is not any 
 substratum, but the activity, the perceiving itself. Hence 
 that which manifests itself immediately to us, is not an 
 existence, nor a substance, but an activity. It is the repre- 
 senting, the internal imaging, the consciousness. This he 
 compares to an inward eye, sleepless in its character, 
 situated in the centre of our being, and which takes in 
 one after another, all the image objects which are passing 
 before it during the whole course of life. 
 
 ^ Vhalybam, 194. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 405 
 
 Fichte lays down three fundamental laws of all thinking : 
 
 1. The original act of all knowing is that the me affirms 
 itself. That is, the me represents itself to itself; presents 
 to itself its own image as object, and thus renders itself the 
 object of its own intuition. 
 
 2. The second law is that the me affirms a not me. 
 That is, the same consciousness opposes its own self to every- 
 thing else, and distinguishes between itself as a definite 
 representation and everything else which is not that repre- 
 sentation, and comes to know itself all the more perfectly 
 by the contrast thence arising. 
 
 3. The law of mutual limitation arising out of these two 
 representations, and is thus expressed. The me is, what 
 the not me is not, and the not me is, what the me is not. The 
 two are directly opposed to each other in consciousness, 
 and yet the latter is preserved in its full integrity. The 
 formula embodying the law is the me affirms itself as deter- 
 mined or limited by the not me. The representation of 
 the not me, or objects always flows from the proper activity 
 of the me although such activity cannot be regarded as a 
 spontaneous one. It is a necessary activity, but that 
 necessity arises out of its own nature. ' 
 
 Idealism, according to Fichte, views intelligence as act- 
 ing,^ and not something active. It deduces definite repre- 
 sentations, as external objects, from the acting of that intel- 
 ligence. As intelligence is itself the highest ground of 
 explanation, its acting must be determinate, and deter- 
 mined by the intellect and its essence. As intelligence, in 
 virtue of its peculiar being, can only act in a certain way, 
 it must have its necessary laws of acting. It is those laws 
 that give it the feeling of environment, although those defi- 
 nite representations, apparently coming from without, are 
 only the limits of its own being. There is nothing ob- 
 jective, but the soul's activity discloses the process of be- 
 coming, and brings to the light of consciousness the way 
 
 ^ Ohalyhaus, 197. 
 
406 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 in which we ourselves have produced a representation. 
 Even if there were any existence other than our own, it 
 could be to us only a conceived existence, and not one 
 self-produced. In the higher consciousness all objective 
 existence wholly disappears as being actual. ]!^othing 
 remains as really actual except the activity within us. 
 There is only a thinking, representing, forming, an activity 
 fixed to certain laws that are inherent to itself. These 
 laws are nothing more than the unchanging method of 
 that spontaneous and free activity,^ and that activity is 
 itself the absolute, and that which alone is actual. 
 
 Fichte's system had also a practical, as well as theoretical, 
 aspect. The limits which the me as theoretic has set over 
 against itself in the not me,^ it must, as practical, seek to 
 destroy, and absorb again the not me into itself, or to con- 
 ceive it as only the self-limitation of the me. The practical, 
 reason, in effect, says, " there ought to be no non ego 
 since the non ego can in no way be united with the ego. " 
 By the ego^ or the me^ Fichte means to be understood not 
 any individual, but the universal ego^ the universal ration- 
 ality.^ The ego, so far as it belongs to the practical, has 
 the tendency to pass beyond the actual world, and establish 
 an ideal one. But this striving is always confined to the 
 finite partly through itself, because it goes out towards ob- 
 jects, and objects are finite, and partly through the resistance 
 of the sensible world. We ought to seek to reach the infi- 
 nite, but we cannot do it ; this striving and inability is the 
 impress of our destiny for eternity. Thus Fichte sums up 
 " an original of our absolute being; an effort to reflect upon 
 ourselves,* in order to gain this idea; a limitation, not of 
 this striving, but of our own existence, which first becomes 
 actual through this limitation, or through an opposite princi- 
 ple, a non ego, or our finiteness; a self-consciousness, and 
 especially a consciousness of our practical strivings ; a de- 
 termination accordingly of our representations, and through 
 
 ^ Ghalylaus, 199. ^ Sclmegle, 294. ^ Idem, 285. * Idem, 295. 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 407 
 
 these of our actions ; a constant widening of our limits into 
 the infinite." 
 
 There is then a possibility of carrying out all that our 
 moral nature demands, and then the whole phenomenal 
 world of sensible objects attains,^ from this practical stand 
 point, its aim, significancy, and solemn importance of 
 necessity. 
 
 Fichte thus derives his theory of rights. We are con- 
 cious of a free activity ; of its limitation in what is appa- 
 rently an external world, and as apart of it of other rational 
 beings, possessing also a free activity. But these free activi- 
 ties cannot exist without a relation of rights. In virtue of 
 such relation each one has his freedom limited by conceiv- 
 ing the possibility of the other's freedom ; but only under 
 the condition that this other also limits his own freedom 
 through that of the first. Hence the maxim, or rule of 
 limitation " limit thy freedom through the conception of 
 the freedom of every other person with whom thou canst 
 be connected." Thus the original right he considers to be 
 the absolute right of the person to be only a cause in the 
 sensible world, though he may be, in other relations, an 
 effect. 
 
 Thus the absolute, universal ego of science is split up 
 by Fichte in his theory of rights, into a great multiplicity 
 of egos J each possessing rights. But the problem of ethics 
 is to bring it out again in its unity. He regards right and 
 morals as essentially different, the one being the external 
 necessity to do or omit something in order not to infringe 
 upon the freedom of another, while the other is the inner 
 necessity to do or omit something wholly independent of 
 external ends, constitutes the moral nature of man. As 
 right arises out of conflict of the impulse of freedom in differ- 
 ent subjects, so ethics arise from conflict between iaipulses 
 of the same person. " There must, " says Fichte, '' be a 
 course in whose progress the ego can conceive itself as ap- 
 
 ^ Chalyhaus, 304. 
 
408 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 proximating towards absolute independence.^ This course 
 is determined in infinity in the idea ; there is, therefore, no 
 possible case in which it is not determined what the pure 
 impulse should demand. "We might name this course the 
 moral determination of the finite rational being. The 
 principle of ethics is, therefore, always fulfill thy destiny." 
 
 Although, upon the principles of Fichte it was easy to 
 account for the external world, as being nothing but a 
 reflex of the ego^ yet in recognizing the being of a God 
 there were many difficulties to be encountered. 
 
 As the idealist regards the word-image as his own pro- 
 duct, he is obliged to regard himself as the creator, and 
 can, therefore, never get beyond himself in his search after 
 God. The only real, ultimate ground from which anything 
 can proceed is the ego or me, and that which, in appear- 
 ance, hovers before it, is only a modification of its own 
 activity. The elevation, therefore, of the creator of nature 
 into God is, and can be, only self-deification. 
 
 But although Fichte in strong terms affirms that the me, 
 or absolute activity, is only manifested as the ground and 
 origin of all its modifications, and that all we can declare 
 about it is that it is spontaniety, its essence consisting in 
 self-subsistence, independence and freedom, every limita- 
 tion known to consciousness existing within yet he main- 
 tains that spontaneous operation is on that account in it- 
 self not arbitrary, as it places before it an end, not from 
 without but within. It is the self-formed aim of the me, 
 beyond which it is impossible to go. It is the reason in con- 
 creto, the true essence of the human spirit. This self-formed 
 aim he regards as the innermost and deepest truth of our 
 nature, that which essentially constitutes us, and is the 
 object of our desire and volition. It is not an aim forced 
 upon us, but one self-proposed. It is the pressing and 
 longing of one's nature after its development, and all that 
 the doctrine of science does is to exhibit the method of 
 
 Schwegle, 398. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 409 
 
 that self-development of the consciousness, showin^g how it 
 gradually comes to remember its contents. 
 
 We are here only conscious of the purpose for which a 
 world must necessarily present itself to our view ; such 
 appearance being the only means, or the only condition of 
 attaining our self-formed aim, as without it definite action 
 would be impossible. Hence everything contained in that 
 appearance, from the self-formed aim in the beginning to 
 the crude material of the world at the end,^ are so many medi- 
 ating links in the chain of progress. All these are but 
 appearance, phenomena, the only thing really true and 
 actual being our self-subsistence and freedom, the inherent 
 barriers and limitations of which are only the form of human 
 consciousness, that of the intellectual side of our activity . 
 
 There is an aim in the world's forcing itself upon us as 
 something real. As our own nature manifests itself in 
 the behest of duty as conscience, so the reality of the world 
 also makes itself known, as such, inasmuch as the highest 
 aims of existence can only be carried out in it, and by 
 means of it. 
 
 Hence the world's reality rests not on knowledge, but on 
 faith, and this originates from the necessity to carry out 
 the behest of duty, and which requires just such a world 
 to carry it out. And thus, while, on the one hand, it is 
 admitted that the whole world is nothing but the image 
 and reflex of our hidden nature and its manifestation, so 
 on the other, it is evident, that as a whole, it is a moral 
 arrangement throughout, and one subservient to moral 
 purposes. This living and operating moral order is God, 
 the only God that according to Fichte, we require, or can 
 apprehend. Thus God, in Fichte's view, is not substance. 
 He is not even existence, but is pure action. He is the 
 life and principle of a super-sensible world. Order in the 
 some way as I, a finite intelligence, am not an existence, 
 
 ^ Chalyhaus, 305. 
 
 VI] 52 
 
410 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 but pure acting, an acting in accordance with duty, as be- 
 ing a member of that super-sensible world, order. Thus 
 Fichte very clearly laid himself open either to the charge of 
 atheism, or to that deifying the ego. 
 
 The system of Fichte maintained that the ego alone was 
 both the first and the only immediately real,^ that it com- 
 prised the whole totality of conditions ; that it was the sum 
 and contents of everything, the entirely independent and 
 free, the absolute creator for itself and of everything that 
 was going on in it. 
 
 But here we meet with a difficulty upon his own princi- 
 ples. Granting all he claims for the ego, still it only 
 affirms itself in the opposition to the non ego. It only 
 arrives at the consciousness of itself in the fact of its oppo- 
 sition to everything else. Hence as the opposition is mu- 
 tual, both parts of it, the ego and non ego equally require to 
 be affirmed. The destruction of either one would extin- 
 guish the other. The condition of the one being retained 
 in the consciousness is the presence of its opposite. Fichte's 
 principle, therefore, involved the germ of realism just as 
 fully as of idealism, and hence in the place of the monism 
 he was seeking, we find a dualism fully established. 
 
 This objection may have led to a modification of his 
 doctrine, some time previous to his death, which however,^ 
 retains his former teaching, only breaking through and go- 
 ing beyond it. His doctrine had hitherto been a subjective 
 idealism, but his later efforts endeavored to throw a realis- 
 tic element into this idealism. He seeks for the real, not 
 like the sensualists without the me and in things, but only 
 in the me and in the deepest ground thereof. " Here in the 
 self-consciousness of the individual finite me, one general 
 universal self-consciousness gradually opens up before him 
 a me in and by itself or an absolute me, in the broad ground 
 of which all the individual me have struck root, and to the 
 unity of which they all go back,^ while purely apprehend- 
 
 ' CMlybaus, 210. ^ Idem, 215. ' Idem, 216. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 411 
 
 ing their own essence. Thus an all unity of the absolute, 
 under and in all the particular, opens up before him. 
 This reality which he assumed, he found only in the me , 
 and it consisted in that creative moral will, which projects 
 the world and all its phenomena by means of those me 
 which are infinitely variously endowed. We are by no 
 means that absolute existence, that universal me, but we 
 stand connected to it in the innermost root of our exist- 
 ence, as without it we should not at all be capable of ex- 
 isting. This absolute me, which he designates as pure 
 knowledge, absolute consciousness, must be apprehended 
 just like the me of man, or as pure activity. It is the all 
 prevailing, by itself existent, reason, which, although it 
 does not consist in the knowledge of any one object, is the 
 super-sensual ground of all actual knowledge, the active 
 all penetrating moral world order, the law indeed, but the 
 living, the absolute law, and which is termed the absolute 
 and actual will, on account of that never quiescing activity, 
 in which it consisteth. * * * ^he absolute ta- 
 ken in and by itself, is that unbounded and undetermined, 
 that infinite One, which is the same in all the me ; but at 
 the same time it is the ground, and the original ground 
 of all and in all. The individual mes apprehend themselves 
 in it only as the manifold revelations of that which is 
 grounded in him. Their existence is the function of letting 
 that general enter into the state of oppositeness of the un- 
 derstanding, that is into reflection, which is peculiar to the 
 me, and hence of letting it enter into actual couscioursness. 
 Hence it is in them first that being is distinguished from 
 thinking. * * * Thus the me, as particularized, 
 constitute, when taken together, the totality of the modes 
 of revelation of the absolute, and from out of its own im- 
 manent genius every me manifests that which, in its own 
 place, in the total connection is that which is necessary and 
 which should not exist diJBTerently, that which is com- 
 manded and is in accordance with duty. That absolute 
 then is God, and internally in himself, God is one and not 
 
412 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 many ; in himself he is one, and the same without change 
 or alteration. * * * * " The divine being 
 does not enter wholly and undividedly into those points of 
 liberty (the me), which mutually exclude each other, it 
 only enters one-sidedly into them ; but beyond those points, 
 and without being veiled by any cover which is only 
 grounded in those points, it enters ; it enters just as it is in 
 itself, continuing to form into infinity, and in that form of 
 onflowing life which is inseparable from its life, which in 
 itself is simple. This eternal on-fiowing of the divine life is 
 the proper, innermost, and deepest root of existence. It 
 is the continuous, eternal, and unchangeable will of abso- 
 lute reality, to continue to develop itself in the manner 
 in which it necessarily requires to develop itself." 
 
 Fitche does not attribute consciousness to the absolute 
 in and by itself. In his view the absolute is " that funda- 
 mental momentum found in the me themselves,^ that part 
 of the me which, while presented as the source and spring 
 of activity, is, by itself and without the other momentum 
 of the not me, without determination and indifferent." 
 Thus the latter system of Fichte is a sort of idealistic 
 Spinozism. His absolute resembles the immense struc- 
 tures reared by the coral insect, which lie in the back 
 ground, and serve as the basis and foundation of all acti- 
 vity. The entire structure is without determination, and 
 graduated at the point of indifference, from its deep ocean 
 depths to the surface, and there a scene of life and activity 
 presents itself. All along the upper surface the millions 
 of little insects, representing an infinity of mes are perform- 
 ing their life labor, each one in building up for itself its own 
 little stony habitation, serving both for its cell and its sepul- 
 chre, the home of its joys and its sorrows, and the tomb of 
 its remains. Each possesses a will and a determinateness 
 of its own, in accordance with its constitution and relations ; 
 and like the me of humanity, is surrounded by an environ- 
 
 ^ Ghalyhaus, 319. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 413 
 
 ment of its own creation. The root of its own existence, 
 as also that of its environment, is found in the immense 
 structure of which it forms a part. And when its own cell 
 is completed, which constitutes its sepulchre its life labor 
 is ended ; its existence as a separate living entity ceases ; 
 and it drops back into the absolute, contributing to form 
 a part of that out of which it derived its origin and from 
 which it took its departure. 
 
 In one respect, perhaps, may Fichte render the aspira- 
 tions of his me superior to those of the coral. He saw 
 clearly enough that although he might term his absolute 
 an abstract fundamental momentum, in and by itself, yet 
 that the me like the coral, always finds itself shut up within 
 "incomprehensible limitations." Yet Fichte makes it 
 propose to itself the task of breaking through these barriers 
 for the purpose of setting itself free. He points psycholo- 
 gically and historically, to a progress in that unceasing 
 work of destruction, which follows a certain definite plan, 
 and constitutes a philosophy of the history of mankind. 
 
 He distinguishes in this three stages, or periods. First, the 
 me occupies the sensor's standing point of felicity.^ " For," 
 says he, " as every me is a one-sided and partial existence of 
 the divine all-being, and represents some one particular 
 function of the divine will, it also apprehends itself first of 
 all in that particularity, and looks upon itself as being a 
 whole, by opposing itself to the other volitions, which are 
 in the same way particular, and by thus asserting and 
 claiming exclusive being. Hence its will is not on^ with 
 the universally divine will, but stands in antagonism to it." 
 
 This brings us to the second stage, or period, that of 
 choice, in which the me makes a choice between the two 
 volitions, and * has to carry out a resolution as to whether 
 it is to be determined in accordance with its own individual 
 volition, or with the eternal one. This position he terms 
 the standing point of the law. 
 
 ^ Clialybaus, 320. 
 
414 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The third stage, or period, consists in the destruction or 
 removal of this oppositeness, in order that at last the stage 
 of pure and free morality, and with it that of blessedness, 
 may be attained. Here the individual me disappears. It 
 sinks into the absolute. It has no -will apart from the 
 divine will. '^ In the end, and where is the end ? (says 
 Fichte), everything must after all cast anchor in the secure 
 harbor of eternal rest and blessedness ; in the end the king- 
 dom of God must come forth in its might, in its power and 
 in its glory." 
 
 These different stages, or periods, appear better adapted 
 to the experience, or life history, of each individual me, 
 than to that of the race taken as a unit ; and even if it 
 applies to the latter, to continue our former figure, what 
 is the sinking of every individual me into the absolute but 
 the arrival of the coral structure to the ocean's surface, 
 when all coral life becomes extinct, and nothing but the 
 dead structure, the absolute, alone remains ? 
 
 Pantheism — Sehelling, Hegel. 
 
 Frederick William Von Sehelling was born at Leonberg, 
 in Wirtemberg, in 1775, and died at Ragaz, in Switzer- 
 land, in 1854. Historically, he sprang from Fichte, as he 
 takes him for his starting point. 
 
 Fichte's first stand point makes all our knowledge to be 
 summed up in a subjective activity ; that no person is 
 capable of knowing or of experiencing more than what lies 
 or what goes on within the sphere of his me,^ that is, of his 
 self-consciousness, and everything that is going on there, 
 is a self-activity of the consciousness. This was a subjec- 
 tive idealism, and Sehelling was not long in perceiving the 
 one-sided subjectivity of that system, and the knowledge 
 it proposed to furnish. He accordingly, in his early specu- 
 lations, maintained that if there was to be knowledge there 
 
 ^ Chalyhaus, 238. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 415 
 
 must be something that is to be known, there must be 
 existence, referring, however, only to the antagonism 
 between the finite me and the external world. He called 
 attention to the antagonism between the absolute produc- 
 ing me, the subject, on the one hand, and the product, the 
 representation, the object, on the other hand; claiming 
 that the ideal and the real are, as far as their root is con- 
 cerned, identical. He burst through all the obstacles and 
 fetters of subjectivity, extending the limited me of Fichte, 
 into the universal world, sphere, thus taking his stand at 
 once both in the absolute and the real. The absolute 
 ground being absolute activity, time and space are the 
 form of its movement. Space is only activity enlarging 
 and extending itself, and time is given as the limitation of 
 that activity. Time and space are the necessary condi- 
 tions of all intuition,^ that first or original mental activity 
 found in the consciousness. Thus movement is a com- 
 pound of time and space, and is that which externally cor- 
 responds to the succession of representations. Expansion 
 and contraction constitute the form of what is termed 
 material nature, which is externally beheld by us, or of the 
 life of nature in general. 
 
 The great universe, under the magic wand of Schelling, 
 becomes the one grand unity, the world-me, which has its 
 movements in time and space, which movements result in 
 the production of all objects, all that exists. The individual, 
 finite me, in virtue of its internal activities, brings forth 
 an infinitude of intuitions, but being itself only a part 
 of the grand totality, it is the universal world-nature, 
 which is working in each individuality as one of the many 
 points in or through which it acts and works. It is this 
 world-nature, which, on the system of Schelling, has organ- 
 ized itself into human souls, and through them, knows, or 
 becomes cognizant of itself. These individual souls, he 
 regards as the numberless individual eyes by which the 
 
 ' Chalybaus, 244. 
 
416 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION, 
 
 infinite world-spirit contemplates itself.^ We all consti- 
 tute, taken together, the world-spirit ; and the term being, 
 in its full acceptation, can only apply to the universal life- 
 force and power of nature, in the pulsations and successive 
 formations of which our particular terrestrial organizations 
 also is one passing momentum. 
 
 But this great world-spirit, in its activity cannot, accord- 
 ing to Schelling, contemplate itself, cannot become aware 
 of that which it is and does. Objects of nature are never 
 objects to themselves, but to others. Man alone is both 
 subject and object to himself. He alone acts, and becomes 
 conscious of his activity. He alone is subject-object. 
 
 In pei'fect self-consciousness, the self,^ or existence to 
 be known, coincides with the knowing; and when we 
 come to know that a being is internally, in its hidden 
 contents, only the play of the same activities which also 
 constitutes knowing, then only does the knowing and 
 known, the ideal and the real, perfectly correspond to each 
 other. Then only does knowledge interpenetrate nature, 
 and everywhere in nature finds again itself. 
 
 The question as to how impressions of corporal objects 
 gain an entrance into our incorporal souls is a puzzler to 
 the German philosophers.^ They seem rather to regard it 
 as a general psychological fact, as an internal experience, 
 and an immediate necessity. This is declining to explain 
 it, and leaving it upon ground very analogous to that of the 
 Scottish school. 
 
 The intuitions are just images existent in the soul, which, 
 although occasioned by something external and at first 
 unconsciously as far as concerns the soul, are still self- 
 actively produced by it. The only respect in which the 
 notions originate empirically is that they are repetitions or 
 portraitures of intuitions which actually exist in the con- 
 sciousness, and about whose external or internal origin 
 nothing has as yet been determined. It is by means of 
 
 ' Chalyhaus, 2^6. ^ Idem, 24:7. ^ Idem, 250. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 417 
 
 intellectual intuition that the mind penetrates into the 
 innermost depths of nature, and through it ; for nature is 
 the all-one, and the individual man only an integral part 
 of it, and hence all the other parts of nature are to him 
 thoroughly one and the same with what he is himself.^ 
 The essence of nature is mind, though still slumbering and 
 dreaming on many lower stages of self-development. But 
 all nature's activities are in themselves nothing else but the 
 activities which are observed objectively by us as move- 
 ments, and which subjectively we bring to self-conscious- 
 ness within ourselves as activity of the mind. Existence, 
 reality, or life, is that universal nature which continually 
 effects itself, the natura naturans which, in unfolding gives 
 form to itself, and which in all its forms only manifests its 
 own essence which is thus brought forward, and its own 
 life. In its innermost and deepest point it is the absolute 
 meity ; the living ground of subjectiveness, which brings, 
 by an absolute self-development, everything out of itself, 
 transforms the possible into the actual, the subjective into 
 the objective.^ That eternal evolution constitutes nature, 
 and it has ever had a gradual progress from that which is 
 lower to that which is higher. Nature has therefore a 
 progress and a history. The ultimate end of all evolution 
 is attained where the life which at first had been blindly 
 operating acquires self-consciousness. All along its pro- 
 gress and everywhere, the mode of activity is the same, 
 viz: a self-objectivizing, a pendulum-like swing between 
 subjectivity and objectivity; a pulsating of expansion and 
 contraction, a going out of and returning to one's self. It 
 operates unconsciously in the lower stages, and reaches 
 self-consciousness only in the higher. But as that funda- 
 mental essence which in man is self-consciousness, re- 
 cognizes again its own life and essence in the rest of 
 nature, and beholds there objectively that which it had 
 subjectively perceived within itself, it results that allknow- 
 
 ' Chalybaus, 259. '^ Idem, 260. 
 VI] 53 
 
418 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ledge has two poles, presents two distinct aspects, subject 
 and object, knowing and known. This gives origin to two 
 fundamental sciences, or rather two aspects of one and the 
 same life from two different points of view : 
 
 1. The philosophy of the mind, the self-consciousness of 
 the subject — transcendental idealism ; the idealism of know- 
 ing considered by itself. 
 
 2. The philosophy of nature, existence or life, objectively 
 considered from its real aspect and its own self-develop- 
 ment. These two supplement each other, presuppose one 
 another, and in starting from the one we are driven to the 
 other. 
 
 Schelling's theory of nature was that perfection was only 
 attained when all nature could resolve itself into an intelli- 
 gence ; that its lifeless and unconscious products are only 
 its unsuccessful attempts to reflect itself, and hence is only 
 non-matured intelligence; that its becoming wholly object 
 to itself is only attainable in its last and highest reflection,^ 
 which is nothing else than what we term reason, by which 
 nature returns perfectly into itself, thus proving that ori- 
 ginally it is identical with that which we recognize in our- 
 selves as furnished with intelligence and consciousness. 
 
 The views entertained by Schelling varied at difierent 
 periods of his life. His philosophy of nature, as origin- 
 ally developed by him, presents a splendid scheme of pan- 
 theism; a scheme bearing throughout a semblance of 
 science. This philosophy consisted essentially in self-de- 
 velopment ; in assuming that this is based at the founda- 
 tion upon self-movement. This in its lowest stage is a 
 mere obscure tendency of nature, and in its highest is 
 reason, that which perceives and knows itself So far as 
 regards essence, everything is considered one and the 
 same.^ Beyond tendency, movement and activity, there is 
 nothing ; the real and material only consisting in the play 
 of those activities which mutually determine each other. 
 
 ^ Ghalybaus, 262. "" Idem, 265. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 419 
 
 The essence, all the powers and forces of nature exist: 
 1. In potentiality, in ability to become a universe simply 
 .as natura naturans. 2. In actuality, in having become a 
 world or universe, as natura naturata. Both these together 
 are unitous, constituting a whole, are the absolute. It is 
 the same original essence which entering into all the shapes 
 and forms of nature constitutes their interior, and thus the 
 absolute and infinite being is neither above nor without 
 nature, but within it, and all objects, we ourselves, every- 
 thing around us is only that omnipresent eternal existence 
 and being in its development. The life-power starts from 
 a single point, a point of indifi^erence, and works itself out 
 into product, which is 'the self-exhibition of its own essence 
 becoming object to itself.^ That power once set free, must, 
 by its own working, go out into the periphery. 
 
 In the individual, as in the general, there is a law at 
 work elaborating and pushing out the germ that which lay 
 within it, and that unconsciously and blindly. This law 
 appears objectively as a blind, internal necessity. But it is 
 in no sense a law imposed by a higher power. "It is the 
 desire of the germ after development.^ It is the moving 
 force of its own nature. Its working is the successive self- 
 deliverance and self-satisfaction, and hence the manifestation 
 of freedom." 
 
 There is a uniformity in the working of nature.^ It 
 works in the grand whole just as in every individual germ. 
 In both, the original tendency organizes itself into actuality, 
 that which first existed as mere potentiality works -itself 
 out both in the totality and the diversified parts. It is the 
 potence and the working unitedly, inseparably, that con- 
 stitutes the first identity. 
 
 This potence, in as far as it has attained in nature to 
 actuality, is termed subjectivity ; and so also existence, in as 
 far as it is the ground of itself is subjectivity, but in as far 
 as it is borne up by an internal ground, it is objectivity. In 
 
 ^ Ghalyhaus, 26Q. "" Idem, 2Q8. ^mem,26d. 
 
420 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 actuality these are one and the same; and existence is the 
 identity of subjectivity and objectivity. 
 
 Thus we have at the foundation being in itself, absolute 
 existence, infinite and without difference. But it becomes 
 membered and determined into the greatest possible variety. 
 These diversified parts, whether considered by themselves 
 or compared with each other, will apparently, some more 
 than others, belong to the subjective or objective side of 
 the infinite being. Every difference in existence can only 
 depend on a relative preponderance either of subjectivity 
 or of objectivity. 
 
 Existence is self-activity, but as our own self-activity 
 consists in thinking, so we conceive the self-activity of 
 nature to consist also in thinking. And as our thought- 
 images are mere nonentical objects, so those of the uni- 
 versal spirit of nature also are formations which, as such, 
 possess no essentiality in themselves. But as they are 
 only the spirit-assuming form, they are, nevertheless, 
 actual and real, even as our own thought-images are the 
 spirit which has assumed those shapes, and which have 
 thus a claim to existence. Our thought-images appear 
 non-real to us, because we perceive the subjectiveness 
 of our conceptional objects. But in the same manner 
 the infinite being looks through the subjectiveness of all 
 his creatures, and knows (if possessed of consciousness) 
 that those formations which we term natural objects are 
 only his own thoughts, and are not separated from him. 
 
 But although all nature is in itself absolute self-move- 
 ment, yet every individual part or organ in that nature is 
 not in its individuality capable of perceiving itself in this 
 self-movement. There are individual beings in which that 
 self-movement has not yet been matured into self-intuition. 
 Matter, for instance, is existence in its first form, the root 
 of all things, whose two factors are expansion and contrac- 
 tion. These two factors in the world of matter are analo- 
 gous to intuition and apprehension in that of mind. The 
 expansive force is the first positive factor as it produces 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 421 
 
 space and extension. Time is the negation of space, that 
 which retards in the movement, and constitutes the succes- 
 sion in activity. Bj it the universe obtains unity, and the 
 individual its boundaries. So also the universe its eternity, 
 and the individual its relative duration. 
 
 Schelling regards gravity as the relatively preponderat- 
 ing force in objective nature, and that it appears as mat- 
 ter. On the contrary, light, which he defines to be the 
 internal tremulous motion of matter, he regards as the 
 thinking, the internal intuition of nature by herself. It is 
 the soul, the spiritual activity of the world. The whole 
 formation of nature has proceeded from the mutual struggle 
 of light and gravity. This necessarily supposes a history,^ 
 and this history a progress. There is no rational life with- 
 out progress, and no life without struggle. 
 
 The process into which light and matter first enter is the 
 magnetic-electro-chemical one. The chemical one is the 
 arrested organic process. In the stage of the finite light 
 is the soul or moving principle of nature, ruling over mat- 
 ter as far as gravity will permit. In this struggle matter is 
 developed into its thousand diversified forms ; those forms 
 constituting individually finite inorganic pieces, but when 
 considered in the total, are the life-endowed members of the 
 infinite body of nature, or of the whole material world. 
 
 Gravity manifests itself between individual bodies as 
 power of cohesion, or as magnetism, endeavoring to com- 
 prehend together all individuality, and to exhibit matter 
 as a continuity. The totality of material existence to 
 which this tends is represented under the schema of an 
 infinite magnet ; and by this he means a line whose poles 
 exhibit existence, that is the coming forward of the expan- 
 sive and contractive force in their activity. Electricity he 
 regards as the eternal universal bond, which manifests in 
 the individual the imperfectness of every individual as such, 
 and hence only the completeness of two that are antago- 
 
 Ghalyhaus, 387. 
 
422 ' HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 nistic, while magnetism, as the temporal bond, endeavors 
 at the apprehension of the same in the individualities. 
 Magnetism is the expression of the unity of two opposites. 
 It is in OTie, what electricity is in two bodies. 
 
 Gravity and light are antagonistic ; the first producing 
 a stronger cohesion, a more perfect magnet, expelling the 
 luminous essence which manifests itself as heat ; the latter 
 expanding and loosing the bonds of cohesion. 
 
 If nature is regarded as one infinite organism, then every 
 part is only serviceable to the whole, and has by itself no 
 existence and no aim ; the only aim of its existence being to 
 fulfill a definite function for the whole. But nature, by 
 virtue of its final aim, more perfectly to develop its proper 
 essence, and in that development to render it object for 
 itself, tends always to greater and greater individuation of 
 objects, even in the individual. Hence it aims, as much to 
 exhibit relative totalities in the individual, as, on the other 
 hand, it again swallows up all these totalities in the one 
 grand organism. Hence the individual may exhibit a 
 microcosm, an organism, a perfected exhibition by one 
 particular life of the universal life of the substance. 
 
 " It is," says Schelling, " that same unity of the grand 
 whole and its individual parts which contains and provides 
 everything,^ which moderates the movements of universal 
 nature, those silent and continuous ones as well as the 
 violent and sudden changes in accordance with the idea of 
 the whole, and always brings back everything into the 
 eternal circle ; it is that same divine unity which, infinitely 
 desirous of affirmation, also forms itself into animal and into 
 plant, and which, if once the moment of its coming for- 
 ward is decided, aims with irresistible power to transform 
 earth, air, and water into living beings, into images of its 
 universal life." 
 
 The chemical process Schelling regards as organizing, 
 but one which continually miscarries. This arises out of 
 
 'Chalybaus, 283. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 423 
 
 the fact that nature is as yet perfectly detained and occupied 
 in the fluctuating, and is unable to apprehend or seize it- 
 self at any point, as each individual part obeys a law 
 situate without itself. Hence nature presents itself no 
 where as self-subsistent life in itself. This it only attains 
 when it reaches the organism of the individual. 
 
 " The life and existence of organic beings depend upon 
 this, that the chemical process which is running out in them 
 is always again renewed, that an antagonistic process is con- 
 tinuously opposed in them to the former process and thus 
 organic life is a process of processes, which, in their suc- 
 cession, do mutually anew call forth each other." 
 
 The two organized bodies are the plant and the animal. 
 In the former the chemical process effects a continuous 
 decomposition into hydrogen and oxygen. The continued 
 and fresh supply of the latter is accomplished by means of 
 light. In the latter the continuous restoring of capacity 
 in the organs, consists in the irritability with which they 
 are endowed, and- which manifests itself as mobility. The 
 system of its movements is a mechanism shut up within 
 itself, and by that means enabling it to attain free or self- 
 movement. But the actual attainment of it depends on 
 another faculty of animal nature, which stands opposed to 
 irritability, and that is sensibility which first awakens in 
 the animal. Irritability and sensibility mutually determine 
 each other ,^ the former furnishing the material, the posi- 
 tive ; the latter the form, the negative, while only both of 
 them together produce the formation, which may be con- 
 sidered as the peculiar life of organic beings. The com- 
 prehending together in one notion irritability and sensibility 
 gives, according to Schelling, the notion of instinct, that 
 being the tendency to motion determined by sensibility. 
 
 Irritability and sensibility belong wholly to the sphere of 
 blind a'ctivity, which obtains also in the animal portion of 
 human life. They are devoid of consciousness. The latter 
 
 Ghalybaus, 287. 
 
424 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 only occurs when the activity which had at first wholly 
 entered in, and been absorbed by its product, separates 
 itself from that product, spontaneously repeats itself, has 
 intuition of itself, as activity, and thus becomes an object 
 to itself in the same manner it had formerly been to an 
 on-looker standing without. When the activity, which 
 first takes place blindly and instinctively, makes itself 
 within itself the object, then the tremulous movement that 
 which had been felt, and which had been unconsciously 
 present, would be transformed into sensation, which is the 
 first stage of consciousness. So long as the activity of the 
 living subject continues to enter wholly into its product, 
 no consciousness can take place. The feeling will be as 
 in a dream. There is no feeling that it feels. 
 
 IlsTature attains its highest stage in man. Here every- 
 thing which had hitherto only existed as objective, as the 
 whole sphere of unconsciously operative nature, passes 
 immediately to the other side, viz: that of objectiveness, 
 leaving behind it only pure subjectiveness. 
 
 Schelling concedes that nature throughout acts in con- 
 formity to a design, but not with purpose, and hence that 
 all its products will also be conformable to design, although 
 not brought about with the consciousness of any such. 
 While, therefore, nature exhibits adaptation to design, and 
 wisdom, it is accounted for only on the ground that the 
 unconscious activity of nature, " the dream life of the spirit 
 of nature in its unconsciousness necessarily harmonizes 
 with the conscious activity," the former being in itself the 
 sp-me as the latter has actually become to itself. 
 
 While the mechanism of nature is blind, it is still in that 
 mechanism adapted to a design. The charm possessed by 
 organic nature in all its surroundings grows out of the con- 
 tradiction that while itself the product of blind natural 
 forces, it is nevertheless all through, both externally and 
 internally, adapted to design.^ The immanent life in nature 
 
 ' Ghalybaus, 293. 
 
EUKOPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 425 
 
 is that unreflected mode of intuition wMch, altbough un- 
 conscious, yet acts like consciousness and as blind tendency 
 in nature, is all the more certainly operating according to 
 design.^ Hence," says Schelling, " although we see animals 
 moving, as it were, unconsciously we witness their perform- 
 ance of innumerable effects, which are much more splendid 
 than themselves. We see the bird intoxicated, as it were, 
 by music, surpassing itself in melodies full of deep feeling; 
 the little creature, endowed with art performing without 
 practice or instruction works of architecture, but all of them 
 are directed by one all powerful spirit, which while in 
 them it shines forth in individual flashes of cognition, yet 
 displays itself only in man as the sun in his full strength." 
 
 In arriving at man we have reached the spiritual region. 
 Here there is nothing but knowing, a knowing which has 
 the whole real world of existence presented to it as some- 
 thing placed over against it, as existence. That world has 
 become the intuition of its own intuition. The infinite 
 here dwells in, and mingles with, the finite. It exists in 
 the finite as that which is ideal, as knowing, as conscious- 
 ness. It gives to man all his poetry, all his inspiration, all 
 his longings after the beautiful, all his yearnings for the 
 sublime. The first revelation of the infinite, therefore, is 
 art. The whole art-world is only a projection from the 
 infinite. 
 
 A second stage of the infinite is that of religious faith. 
 While this is absorbed in apprehending the all-unitous, as 
 the all-one in the highest abstraction of being, it 4oses 
 sight of what is sensuous and finite, by considering it as a 
 mere momentum of the all-one, and as in itself thoroughly 
 nonentical. 
 
 The third, and last stage, consists in a comprehension of 
 the true relationship between the subjective and the objec- 
 tive, in absolute knowledge or in true philosophy, which 
 unites the objectiveness of art with the subjectiveness— of 
 
 ' Ghalybaus, 393. 
 
 VI] 54 
 
426 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 religion. In the accomplishment successively and success- 
 fully of these diiferent stages, " the infinite world-drama 
 unfolds itself as a history, whose commencement dates from 
 the eternity that preceded the present creation." ^ 
 
 As to the origin of finite beings it is obvious that upon 
 the system of Schelling there can be no such thing as a 
 creation in the proper sense of that term. His system 
 completely reverses the course of creation. As we under- 
 stand it, the infinite spirit preceded creation, and, by his 
 own self-moved, creative act, called into being everything 
 that exists. According to Schelling, matter in its purely 
 inorganic form was the original substance, and only pre- 
 ceeded by the potentia which as yet did not exist. Then 
 the progress was by successive steps and stages. " The 
 subjective rose in matter more and more victoriously from 
 stage to stage, as life, light, and spirit, until it attained 
 absolute subjectiveness, that is, pure ideality, to which 
 everything else had become objective, had assumed the 
 garb of the real." Thus spirit, according to Schelling, was 
 not the first but the last which came forth, nor can we, in 
 any sense, consider it as the creator of the world. This 
 infinite spirit, absolute subject, world-me, is in its highest 
 stage the world-spirit, which is in the macrocosm that 
 which human consciousness is in the microcosm. In the 
 same sense as the human impregnated germ, without pur- 
 pose or object, develops itself into a perfect organism, and 
 at last arrives at self-consciousness, so infinite nature deve- 
 loped itself in the world until it entered upon the stage of 
 spirituality, that is, it came to know, came to objectivize 
 itself in its own perfected work, the same work which at 
 the same time always is and remains. And when arrived 
 at this stage the activity of nature has reached its limit 
 and ceases to be productive. It then turns to thinking 
 and becomes only ideal. It becomes purely subjective, and 
 produces only thoughts, ideas, formal repetitions of the 
 
 GMlyhaus, 298. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 427 
 
 creative activity. " It exists as a particular function of the 
 life-activity, as a higher one, as me%, self-consciousness, 
 without being in itself really different from the life power. ^ 
 Thus the individual human soul is both the blind working 
 and self-formative tendency of life, and is in a higher 
 function, at the same time also self-contemplative, thinking, 
 or self-consciousness." 
 
 The absolute is all-producing nature, and acts in and 
 through all its products, nor is in any way separated from 
 them. These products, all natural objects, do not exist at 
 all by themselves, and as separate beings. They are only 
 the activity of nature arresting and fixing itself in the 
 course of its own operations. It is only in man that the 
 absolute becomes perfect subject, becomes actual know- 
 ledge, and is no longer mere real working. ligature, in 
 man steps out of its workshop and contemplates itself. 
 Man is that thought of nature in which it represents itself, 
 he is the perfect portraiture of the absolute, for he is abso- 
 lute himself. His absoluteness consists in his freedom, he 
 has within himself the principle of meity, and, in this re- 
 spect, represents the absolute meiiy of the world-me. 
 
 The world-spirit continued marching on in its eternal 
 process of production until it attained the stage of self-con- 
 sciousness. Then occurred the antagonizing of subjec- 
 tiveness and objectiveness; the last object presented being 
 the idea of man, of reason, cognizing itself. 
 
 Schelling maintains that everything which proceeds out 
 of the unity of absolute existence,^ or which appears to 
 separate itself from it, must possess in it already the possi- 
 bility of existing by itself; but the actuality of separate 
 existence can only be found in that which is separated 
 itself; and this separation can again only be ideal, and can 
 only take place in the measure, that a being has been ren- 
 dered capable of existing as unity to itself, by the mode of 
 its existence in the absolute. 
 
 * Vhalyhaus, 300. "" Idem, 803. 
 
428 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 But here occurs a difficulty. How is the finite, the 
 product, connected with the absolute ? If it owes both its 
 origin and continuance to the all-unitous absolute, having 
 in it its root, and deriving from it its nourishment, as a 
 part from the whole then must it cease to have any separate 
 or independent existence. And if not, then it must be 
 absolute in itself, and then we should have a plurality of 
 absolutes, and no one supreme. This difficulty bears 
 directly upon human freedom and the freedom of the ab- 
 solute. If the absolute is everything, and things only its 
 temporary forms, or if it alone exists giving birth out of 
 itself to all the transformations which result in things, it is 
 obvious that beyond it can neither be a material nor a 
 spiritual world. All individuality, or prevalence of indi- 
 vidual will, would be annihilated. 
 
 To obviate this difficulty Schelling endeavors to esta- 
 blish a theory of creation in accordance with which man, so 
 far as regards his essence, may have his root in the abso- 
 lute ; but as to the form of his existence, may be self-sub- 
 sisting. At the same time the absolute, although entering 
 into all its productions, still appears, as to its form, the 
 absolute, persisting by itself above and without those pro- 
 ductions. He does not intend wholly to separate things, 
 or men, so far as regards their real essence from the abso- 
 lute, or to disjoin them from all connection with universal 
 powers. He thinks it conceivable that, so far as concerns 
 man's real essence, he may be an integral part in the 
 absolute, while he continues in a form of existence which 
 clothes him with the character of the absolute, or of self- 
 subsistence. He is well termed a consequence and a modi- 
 fication of the absolute, but in that respect, he has only a 
 one-sided relationship to the universal absolute, while in 
 other respects, he may be the very opposite as a child is 
 the consequence of his parent, although he may possess 
 very opposite qualities. 
 
 Schelling claims that the immanency of the absolute in 
 us, or our immanency in the absolute, is the only means of 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 429 
 
 preserving our freedom. But here another difficulty occurs 
 relating to the existence of evil. If everything originates 
 from, and is sustained by, the absolute, how is the existence 
 of evil to be accounted for? Schelling attempted explana- 
 tion in some of his later writings, and in doing so, he pene- 
 trated beyond the limits of his former philosophy of nature, 
 and seems to feel that the ultimate key to the enigma of the 
 world is not to be sought in the physically and blindly 
 operating laws, nor in the categories of nature, but in the 
 ethical categories of liberty. He asserts that it is in free- 
 dom that the last potentiating act is to be sought, by which 
 all nature transforms itself into sensation, into intelligence, 
 and finally into volition. That in the last and highest 
 instance, there is no other existence,- save willing. That 
 willing is original existence, and all the predicates of that 
 existence apply to it alone, viz : groundlessness, independ- 
 ence of time, and self-affirmation, and that all philosophy 
 aims only to find that expression.^ 
 
 Still the difficulty occurs of freeing the absolute from 
 the charge of evil. And to effect this he suggests ''that 
 the immanency of the absolute in the finite may not be 
 surrendered, but that part of the absolute or of the divine, 
 which is immanent in the finite being, cannot be the whole 
 absolute essence of the deity, nor can it be especially that, 
 which in the absolute peculiarly constitutes that which is 
 divine.^ But this leads us to a distinguishing something 
 in God himself, which even in him cannot be designated 
 as divine, or to an aspect of the absolute, from which if it 
 be looked upon, itself is not divine; for, if things are to 
 be separated from God in some manner, and if their imma- 
 nency is nevertheless to be preserved, then must they have 
 their ground in that which in God is not God himself." 
 
 But it may be asked what that is in God which is not 
 himself ? Or, from what aspect is it, that if the absolute 
 be viewed, it is not to be designated as God. 
 
 ' CJialybaus, dl2. Uclem,dU. 
 
430 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The above position of Schelling is put forward barely as 
 a suggestion, as a possibility, but it is quite obvious tbat 
 its truth would mar his entire system, if not utterly destroy 
 it ; for if the identity between the absolute and the finite 
 is to be preserved, then the essence, which is originally 
 one and absolute, must in some way or other, enter into 
 the finite, and be immanent in it. Thus we have a system 
 of pantheism which identifies creative power with the 
 thing created, transforms God into the world-spirit, and 
 acquaints us with no higher intelligence than that which 
 is found in the self-consciousness of man. 
 
 George William Frederick Hegel was born at Stuttgard, 
 in the year 1770. He was professor successively at Jena, 
 Heidelberg, and Berlin,wherehe died of the cholera in 1831. 
 
 Hegel took root both in Schelling and Fichte. He 
 adopted the method of the latter and the philosophical 
 stand point of the former. His undertaking was to reduce 
 that, " which by the vision of genius the author of the 
 modern philosophy of nature had discovered and sketched 
 in an aphoristic manner,^ into the stable form of a regular 
 scientific system." His endeavor was to fuse together the 
 scattered elements of Schelling's philosophy by means of 
 the absolute method. While he lacked the invention of 
 Schelling, he possessed greater logical acumen, and a far 
 more rigorous method. 
 
 The German philosophy had been in a constant state of 
 development, or evolution, from the time of Kant. His 
 system admitted a double principle as the basis of all philo- 
 sophizing. The one was found in the subjective forms of 
 the understanding. The other in the empirical element, 
 which, uniting with these forms, gave rise to real know- 
 ledge. Thus he proclaimed the bans between the ideal- 
 istic and the realistic, placing, however, the ultimate control 
 rather with the former than the latter. 
 
 ^ Chalybaus, 344; 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 431 
 
 l^ext followed Fichte, who exalted idealism to so enor- 
 mous a height, that it remained alone without a competitor. 
 He resolved all knowledge into human consciousness, 
 affirming that we can know nothing with any certainty 
 except it be the act of our own consciousness. With him, 
 philosophy takes its stand upon the subjective principle, 
 and all knowledge, like the web spun by the spider, is to 
 be drawn entirely from the action of the mind in and upon 
 itself. 
 
 Schelling very clearly perceived that this exaltation of 
 the ego^ rendered it the absolute generating principle of 
 all things, and reduced the world to occupy simply the posi- 
 tion of a shadow projected by its own laws. Or if he 
 allowed the terms of subject and object to have a distinct 
 existence he failed in presenting a single and absolute 
 basis for human knowledge, and philosophy once more 
 returned to lose herself in the wranglings and controversies 
 of the realist, the idealist, and the skeptic. To escape from 
 this difficulty he affirmed the fundamental unity and inti- 
 mate identity of subject and object, regarding them as the 
 two poles of existence, which although separate in their 
 manifestations, were nevertheless always infallibly leading 
 the one to the other. Schelling was never able to give 
 unity to his system. He could never find the point of 
 indifference. The poles always remained apart. There 
 were no forces contained in his system that could compel 
 them to come into proximity with each other. 
 
 Hegel, following Schelling, goes further and affirms that 
 subject and object, thought and existence, are absolutely 
 one, and that the only actual reality is that which results 
 from their mutual relation. Take for illustration the idea 
 of a mountain. Fichte would derive it from the mind's 
 own inward activity. Schelling would claim that its out- 
 ward existence and inward perception are both real, are 
 the two poles of its existence, and both are but manifesta- 
 tions of the absolute essence in different stages of its de- 
 velopment. 
 
432 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Hegel would deny both the outward existence and the 
 inward perception in their separateness of existence, claim- 
 ing that neither could exist alone. He finds the only real- 
 ity in the relation, or synthesis of the two, and makes the 
 essence or nature of being itself to consist in the coexist- 
 ence of two opposites. Ideas, in his view, arising from the 
 union of two opposites, are concrete realities, and the pro- 
 cess of their evolution is, at the same time, that of all ex- 
 istence, the absolute God. He also makes logic the neces- 
 sary basis of absolute idealism. 
 
 The Hegelian philosophy begins by attempting a concep- 
 tion of the laws of thought. The following is his explana- 
 tion of the process of knowing. This is accomplished 
 through consciousness, and is rendered complete in three 
 movenients : 
 
 The first is that in which consciousness is so conditioned 
 that it is one with the object;^ The knowledge of the 
 external world could never be derived from pure sensation. 
 All that can be extracted from it is bare feeling. To attain 
 a knowledge of any object, there must be a complete blend- 
 ing of subject and object. 
 
 In the second we objectify, sensation becomes perception, 
 and our feeling is referred to some real outward existence, 
 as the cause. Here appears the understanding, the faculty 
 by which the separation between subject and object is 
 efiected. 
 
 The third process is that in which our consciousness again 
 returns into a state of complete union with the object. In 
 this we perceive the object as a product or process of our 
 own minds. While as an outward reality it is destroyed, 
 as a process of our own consciousness it is preserved. 
 This has the same relation to the reason as the former had 
 to the understanding. This procedure by which every- 
 thing comes into being is regarded as the soul and essence 
 of life, nature, and even the absolute; and deity itself 
 
 Morell, 459. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 433 
 
 whicli in other systems was an original and self-existent 
 reality, is here reduced to a simple process or movement, 
 whose essence consists in ever unfolding itself, and in never 
 being completely unfolded.^ Glod has no other realization 
 than that which is attained by him in the progress of hu- 
 man consciousness, but the process by which this realization 
 is affected is absolutely synonymous with himself. Thus 
 with Hegel everything is resolvable into dialectic process. 
 It is nature, his method, his deity, his everything. All are 
 but pulsations of this movement, God himself being only 
 the same law taken absolutely in its whole comprehension. 
 Thus we have a universe made out of pure relations, and 
 the process — method — elevated to the absolute idea, God. 
 
 Hegel's stand point is the absolute idea. But this is 
 neither infinite substance, nor infinite subject, nor infinite 
 mind. It is only a perpetual process, an eternal thinking, 
 which is equally without beginning or end. This thought 
 process is with him identical with the logical evolution of 
 ideas in the human mind. In this evolution he finds the 
 idea dividing itself into two opposites, the one being the 
 negation of the other, the idea hanging in a balance 
 between the two. But this negation is met by another 
 negation which restores the idea. The same process is 
 again repeated, at each turn evolving the idea to a higher 
 degree, and thus it proceeds until it reaches the absolute 
 idea itself. 
 
 The threefold movement discernible in the human mind 
 was transferred by Hegel to the whole universe of thought. 
 There, also, he claimed there were three successive steps, 
 or stages. The first, is the infinite idea in itself. The 
 second, the idea in its objective form. The third, the idea 
 in its regress. These movements give : 1. Bare thought. 
 2. Thought externalizing itself, nature. 3. Thought re- 
 turning to itself, mind. 
 
 ' Morell, 461. 
 
 VI] 56 
 
434 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 This gives occasion to a threefold division of philosophy, 
 viz : 
 
 I. Logic. 
 
 n. Philosophy of nature. 
 
 III. Philosophy of mind. 
 
 The first appropriates the region of bare thinking. 
 
 The second, that of thought in its objective forms. 
 
 The third that of thought in its reflective movement in 
 the human soul. 
 
 The whole mission of philosophy, according to Hegel, is 
 to develop existence from its most empty and abstract form 
 up successively through logic, nature and mind, to its 
 highest and purest elevation as attained in the human con- 
 sciousness. And here again, he finds the same process 
 perpetually repeating itself, and gaining something fresh at 
 every pulsation, until it reaches its highest point of possi- 
 ble perfection. 
 
 I. Logic exhibits the first and most undeveloped form 
 of the absolute. It deals with thought in its subjective 
 processes, and is never satisfied until it has reached a 
 method by which the empty may gradually become rich 
 and full. He starts by claiming that all knowledge consists 
 in a separation or distinguishing of one thing from 
 another. In his analysis of thought he finds two parts 
 standing opposed, both absolutely necessary to give it a 
 meaning. This applies equally to sensation, perception 
 and reflection. In reference to each there must be some- 
 thing separated, defined, distinguished, or placed in oppo- 
 sition to something else. Illustrations of this are found in 
 the fact, the finite and the infinite, cause and effect, sub- 
 jective and objective. l!^either of these can be conceived 
 without the other. 
 
 There can, therefore, be no absolute unity. Every idea 
 must consist of two sides, a positive and a negative, and 
 it is the combination of these that forms the perfect idea. 
 
EUROPE— ITS PHILOSOPHY. 435 
 
 This he terms the doctrine of contradiction. In his view 
 in every conception of the reason every other is contained 
 implicite, and may be dialectically developed from it. 
 The domain of logic he considered to be truth as it is per se 
 in its native character, characterizing it as the representa- 
 tion of God as he is in his eternal being. He thus carries 
 logic into a domain of shadows, but of simple essences 
 wholly freed from all sensuous matters " in whose diamond 
 net the whole universe is constructed." 
 
 At the basis and foundation of all thought and being lie 
 the pure conceptions of reason, which determine all sub- 
 jective knowledge and objective reality, ideas in which the 
 ideal and the real have their point of coincidence. The 
 reason must be held responsible for deducing the whole 
 system of knowledge purely from itself, without anything 
 being taken for granted, and in the doing of this some 
 principle must be sought which should be of itself certain, 
 and from which everything else could be derived. 
 
 The Hegelian logic is divided into three parts, or as he 
 terms them doctrines. We have : 
 
 1. The doctrine of being. 
 
 2. The doctrine of essence. 
 
 3. The doctrine of conception. 
 
 1. Being, in the view of Hegel, is the primary and most 
 abstract of all notions. With him thought and existence 
 are identical. To solve the problem of creation he goes 
 backward until he comes to nothing, and takes that as 
 his starting point. In thus going back and negativing 
 everything, he denies that the result is what we understand 
 by nothing. His position is that the act of negation is af- 
 firmation ; that a pure negative is a concrete positive ; and 
 that the negation of one is the affirming of many. 
 
 Thus in applying this to the doctrine of being : in the 
 negation of everything he posits something. Thus the 
 nothing out of which all being issues, is a positive idea, 
 and without it we could never have that of being. The 
 two stand to one another as opposites, and must combine 
 
436 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 together to form a complete notion, and this combination is 
 the point of production, or the becoming of something out 
 of nothing. This is his first step, the original primary 
 pulsation of the dialectic process. In it, something or being, 
 and nothing, stand as the two opposite poles, and out of 
 their conjunction arises the notion of existence. In these 
 three, the two opposites, as poles, and the result, we re- 
 cognize the type or symbol of all thought, there being no 
 complete idea possible except as the combination of two 
 opposites. ]t^either one of these, whether it be being or 
 the negation of all being, nothing can exist as a reality of 
 itself, and the one no more than the other. Each, in 
 reference to each other, stands on a platform of perfect 
 equality, and is but the opposite pole of the other. It is 
 at their point of indifference that the act of coming into 
 existence first makes its appearance. 
 
 Having reached simple existence, at the indifferential 
 point, that is seized hold of, and subjected to the dialec- 
 tical process. It is viewed either in relation to itself, or in 
 relation to the things around it. Here arises another 
 opposition, the two poles of which are this and that. A 
 thing can only be this because it is not that. The office of 
 the one must be to limit or bound off the other. Simple 
 existence alone could give no other than a general and unde- 
 fined idea. There would be nothing to compare it to, and 
 by which to define it. The notion of a distinct existence-, 
 that which is itself a reality, is impossible to be entertained 
 without the negation, as well as the affirmation, of being. It 
 is impossible to affirm any real thing without implying in 
 it the negation of a certain amount of attributes. An 
 animal can be such only because it is not a plant, or some- 
 thing possessing other than animal attributes. Here then 
 is a resort to the category of quality, and by means of the 
 affirmation and negation applied to this category, being 
 limited and determined results. It is by a course of rea- 
 soning similar to this, that we arrive at the notions of the 
 finite and infinite. The finite is a something distinguished 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 437 
 
 from all other things, being limited, circumscribed, and 
 bounded off by them. Remove those boundaries, destroy 
 those limitations, and it goes back into infinity. Accord- 
 ing to this, no complete ideas of the finite or the infinite 
 can be formed alone or disconnected from each other, as 
 the one is necessary to the other, and both are the results 
 of that dialectical process by which we are enabled to rise 
 from the bare notion of being, to that of some particular 
 existence. 
 
 While the category of quality relates to the inner nature 
 of things, that of quantity regards their outward form. 
 This may relate to greatness, number or degree. 
 
 2. The doctrine of essence, or thought, in its communi- 
 cation, gives to being a more determined, definite form. 
 The immediate being of things is represented as a covering 
 or curtain, behind which the essence is concealed. When, 
 therefore, in contrast with the essence the immediate being 
 standing over against it, is a mere negative, simply an 
 appearance, the being appearing in the essence. In the 
 development of essence are presented the same determina- 
 tions found in the development of being, but not in an 
 immediate form. They are here exhibited in a reflected 
 form. In the former, were being and nothing as the two 
 poles ; in the latter, the forms of the positive and negative. 
 
 This second movement of the logical process answers to 
 that second movement in mind in which the understanding 
 separates the object from the consciousness, and places it 
 before us as a distinct reality. The threefold division 
 occurs here also. Essence may appear either : 1. As the 
 ground or substratum of existence, or ; 2. As phenome- 
 non, that is, as expressing those qualities of objects which 
 cannot be separated from them. 3. A real thing in 
 contradistinction from that universal essence of which it 
 forms a part is conceived of by uniting the notion of sub- 
 stratum and attribute. Under each of these divisions are 
 included many philosophical ideas that have played an 
 important part in most metaphysical systems. Under the 
 
438 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 first is contained- the deduction of the notions of identity 
 and difference; of concrete existence; and of a thing as 
 containing properties peculiar to itself.^ Under the second 
 are included the ideas of a phenomenal world, of matter 
 and form, and of relation generally, deduced in philoso- 
 phical order. Under the third we have the union of the 
 other two, giving the categories of substance, of cause, 
 and of action and reaction. The dialectic process, under 
 the Hegelian logic, having now carried us from being alone 
 to essence presenting us with the distinct, essential, real 
 thing, we have only to advance : 
 
 3. To the doctrine of conception, or thought, in its 
 regress, in which it forms a complete idea in itself. In 
 regarding generally the three parts, or divisions, of the 
 Hegelian logic, we find that in the first the doctrine of 
 being is made to answer to the abstract conceptions of time 
 and space, giving only those ideas which are purely quali- 
 tative or quantitative. That of essence answers to time and 
 space, not in the abstract but the concrete, filled up; the 
 one with actual existence ; the other with real phenomena, 
 such as those of substance, attribute, cause and effect. 
 
 Lastly comes the doctrine of conception, or of notion, re- 
 ferring to all those things having peculiar characteristics 
 of their own, those which are real and definable objects 
 whether they relate to existence organized or unorganized. 
 This doctrine also, like the two preceding, has its three 
 divisions : 
 
 1. The conception or notion in its subjective point of view. 
 This gives the various movements of the mind itself in its 
 different acts or states, as it is seen in the apprehension, 
 the exercise of judgment, the power of reasoning. 
 
 2. The objective point of view. This gives us the con- 
 ceptions of the three realms of nature, the mechanical, the 
 chemical, and the organized. The mechanism gives us the 
 relation of objects to each other; the chemism the inter- 
 
 '3Ior6U,^Q5. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 439 
 
 penetration of objects and their neutralization ; tLe teleo- 
 logy, or organism, tbe inner design of objects. 
 
 3. The idea, the union of subject and object, the end 
 accomplishing itself This also has three successive steps, 
 for the Hegelian philosophy advances mostly in triads : 
 
 1. The process of life the immediate existence of the idea. 
 
 2. Intelligence. 3. The absolute idea, v^hich is the highest 
 extent to which the power of conception can reach, and 
 is synonymous with deity. 
 
 In all this, however, there is nothing beyond the empire 
 of pure thinking. By means of it the evolution of thought 
 is traced upwards through its more empty and abstract 
 forms, imparting to it at every step a greater fullness and 
 power of meaning until those conceptions are reached that 
 have their embodiments in nature and the soul. These 
 are the true platonic archetypes, pure thought in them- 
 selves, to which the universe itself is perfectly conformable. 
 
 The march or evolution of the Hegelian Logic, in its 
 triadical projections, may be thus exhibited : 
 
 The three doctrines: being, essence, conception. 
 Triune division of being: 1. Quality. 2. Quantity. 
 
 3. Measure. 
 
 1. Quality subdivided into : a. Being, h. Existence, c. 
 Independent existence. 
 
 2. Quantity is subdivided into : a. Pure quantity, h. 
 Divisible quantity, c. Degree. 
 
 3. Measure consists in the unity of quality and quantity. 
 Triune division of essence : 1. Ground of existence. 2. 
 
 Phenomenon. 3. Eeality, union of ground and pheno- 
 menon. 
 
 1. Ground of existence subdivided into : a. Pure notions 
 of essence. 6. Essential existence, c. Thing. 
 
 2. Phenomenon subdivided into : a. Phenomenal world. 
 h. Matter and form. c. Eelation. 
 
 3. Eeality subdivided into : o. Eelation of substance. 
 h. Eelation of cause, c. Action and reaction. 
 
440 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Triune division of conception : 1. Subjective. 2. Ob- 
 jective. 3. Idea. 
 
 1. Subjective subdivided into : a. I^otion as such, h. 
 Judgment, c. Inference. 
 
 2. Objective subdivided into : a. Mechanism. 6. Chem- 
 ism. c. Teleology. 
 
 3. Idea subdivided into : a. Life. h. Intelligence, c. 
 Absolute idea. 
 
 II. Philosophy of nature. This is the second pillar, or 
 second term, in the triad, upon which reposes the Hegelian 
 system, that of logic being the first. The region of logic 
 was limited to pure intellection, and its philosophy con- 
 cerns only the forms of thought. But in nature we arrive 
 at a different region. Here is the idea in the form of dif- 
 ferentiation. It is still thought, but it is thought in its ob- 
 jective movement. It is thought externalizing itself. It is 
 mind estranged from itself. It is exactly the opposite to 
 logical thinking. The problem presented is to seek out 
 the intelligence which is hidden in nature, and, as far as 
 possible, to pursue the process by which nature loses its 
 own character and becomes mind. The products of nature 
 neither have a reference to themselves, nor correspond to 
 the conception, but grow up in unrestrained contingency. 
 E'ature, according to Hegel, is a bacchanalian god, who 
 neither bridles nor checks himself. It represents no ideal 
 succession, rising ever in regular order; but, on the con- 
 trary, it everywhere obliterates all essential limits by its 
 doubtful structures, which always defy every fixed classifi- 
 cation. 
 
 To account for the existence of nature, Hegel is compelled 
 to make the absolute idea descend from its original unity 
 as subject-object into a state of separation, much the same 
 as in pure logical thinking he makes the understanding to 
 separate what was one in the original consciousness. 
 
 The pantheism of Hegel is, therefore, different, from that 
 of Schelling. The latter regarded nature as a part of the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 441 
 
 process by which the absolute realized itself. With him, 
 therefore, the process of development was necessary, and 
 all existence was the play of a supreme fate. According 
 to Hegel, the dialectic movement by which the absolute 
 separates itself and externalizes itself in nature, is perfectly 
 free, so that his pantheism did not profess to destroy the 
 notion of the freedom and absolute personality of God. 
 
 Although, however, this separation is free, yet it has its 
 steps or stages of progress. Commencing with the imme- 
 diate determination of nature, with the abstract univer- 
 sality of its being extra se, space and matter, it seeks as 
 its end the dissevering of the mind from nature in the form 
 of a rational and self-conscious individuality, man. Hav- 
 ing sought and found the intermediate link between these 
 two exti*emes, the Hegelian philosophy then attempts to 
 follow out successively the increasingly successful struggles 
 of nature to raise itself to self-consciousness, to man. As 
 in logic the absolute process appeared in its threefold 
 movement, so also does it appear in the three corresponding 
 ones in nature. J^ature, as well as logic, has its triads of 
 progress, passing through three principal stages. Of these 
 we have : 
 
 1. Mechanics, in which nature is exhibited in its most 
 empty, undetermined forms. Here we have the purely 
 mathematical ideas of matter, as existing in time, space 
 and motion. There are also the mechanical properties of 
 matter as gravitation, etc. , and, in addition, the absolute pro- 
 perties as viewed at large in the construction of the material 
 universe. Gravity he regards as the being in se of matter, 
 the guiding thread of natural philosophy, that which evi- 
 dences or proclaims the desire of matter to come to itself, 
 and thus shows the first trace of subjectivity. It is a uni- 
 versal centralizer, and this tendency to centralization is its 
 fundamental conception. Then we have: 
 
 2. Physics, which has to do with matter, which has par- 
 ticularized itself in a body, in an individuality. Matter 
 by virtue of its possessing qualities becomes an object of 
 
 VI] 56 
 
442 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 physics. It therefore regards all the general forms of mat- 
 ter; also the phenomena of specific gravity, of cohesion, 
 elasticity, etc., and in addition all the specific forms which 
 it may assume, as acids, alkalies, metals, etc. To this pro- 
 vince belongs inorganic nature, its forms and reciprocal 
 references. Then v^e have : 
 
 3. Organics. The purely inorganic properties, as cohe- 
 sion, etc., are lost in the chemical process, and this latter 
 is, in its turn, overcome by the organic or living process of 
 nature. The living body resists chemical process. Life is 
 self-preservation, self-end. ISTature in physics had risen to 
 individuality, in organics to subjectivity. Here again v^e 
 have three successive steps or stages. Life appears : 
 
 1. In the mineral kingdom, the geological organism. 
 This exhibits only its general image. The mineral kingdom 
 is the result and residuum of a life process and formation 
 already passed. " The primitive rock is the stiffened crystal 
 of life and the geological earth is a giant corpse." 
 
 2. In the vegetable kingdom the organism of plants. 
 The plant is the product of a formative process, but it 
 has not yet risen to a totality perfectly organized in itself. 
 It has not attained to a true unity, a perfect individuality. 
 Its parts are indifferently related to each other. The 
 branches may become roots and the roots branches. Each 
 part is, in one sense, the whole individual, each twig the 
 whole tree. Another advance brings us : 
 
 3. To animal kingdom, animal organism. Here is first 
 found an uninterrupted intres-susception, free motion, and 
 sensation. In man, which is its highest form, the spirit, 
 which works through nature, apprehends itself as the ego^ 
 the conscious individuality. In doing this it becomes a 
 free, rational self, having completed its self-emancipation 
 from nature. 
 
 Let us now see how the philosophy of nature is also cast 
 in triads. "We have : 
 
 1. Mechanics. 
 
 2. Physics. 
 
 3. Organics. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 443 
 
 1. Mechanics is included under: a. Mathematical pro- 
 perties, h. Mechanical properties, c. Properties of abso- 
 lute motion in space. 
 
 2. Physics is included under : a. G-eneral forms of 
 matter. 6. Eelative forms of matter, c. Specific forms of 
 matter. 
 
 3. Organics is included under : a. Geological structure. 
 h. Vegetable structure, c. Animal structure. 
 
 III. Philosophy of mind supplies the third and only 
 remaining pillar of Hegel's system. This philosophy begins 
 where that of physics terminates. Like all that precedes 
 it, it is projected in triads. Of these we have : 
 
 1. The subjective mind, and this is mind removed from 
 its estrangement, and becomes identical with itself. Its 
 formal essence is freedom, which embraces the possibility 
 of abstracting itself from everything else. Its material 
 essence consists in the capacity of manifesting itself as 
 mind, as a conscious rationality. vBut in order to reach 
 its highest possible point of attainment it must pass through 
 a series of stages or emancipative acts. Of these the 
 
 First is anthropology, which expresses that mind which is 
 at first soul or spirit of nature ; which comes from nature, 
 and rises from its externality to being. As a spirit of 
 nature, it sympathizes with the general planetary life of 
 the earth, is affected by difference in climate, in seasons and 
 in different geographical portions. It is related to diversity, 
 race. It bears a national type, and is determined by mode 
 of life, formation of body, etc., and these, in their turn, 
 work upon the intelligent and moral character. This doc- 
 trine regards the soul in its original constitution, but vary- 
 ing according to the physical peculiarities, the national 
 characteristics, and different idiosyncrasies of individuals. 
 
 Second, psychology. This elevates us into the region of 
 sensation or feeling, which in its lower form is sensation, in 
 se, and in its higher or completed, is self-feeling, which is 
 the preliminary step to consciousness. Out of the depth 
 
444 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 of sensation and consciousness emerges the ego, the living 
 point or organism in which are preserved all these sensa- 
 tions, representations, thoughts and cognitions. Mind was 
 previously interwoven with nature, but the awaking of the 
 ego is the act by which the objective world is created. At 
 the same time the subjective world, the conscious ego, 
 springs into existence as contradistinguished from it ; for 
 the ego, over against the objective world is consciousness. 
 This becomes self-consciousness by passing through the 
 successive stages of immediate sensuous consciousness, per- 
 ception, and understanding. But the Hegelian system 
 claims that self consciousness becomes universal, or ra- 
 tional self-consciousness, through the conflicts of the ego 
 with the objective world, and with other self-consciousnesses 
 by means of which is found the proper mean between 
 command and obedience. This latter has emancipated itself 
 from nature, and is free. 
 
 Third. Will, which is theoretical in having to do with 
 the rational as something given; and practical, as express- 
 ing the highest attainments of the ego in subjectivity. It 
 is the ultimate end of the theoretical ; as the theoretical 
 mind in its way to the practical, passes successively through 
 the stages of intuition, representation, and thought, and 
 ultimately forms itself into a free will through impulse, 
 desire, and inclination. 
 
 2. The objective mind. This introduces us to the whole 
 range of moral and political philosophy, or mind in its rela- 
 tions to those without. The immediate objective being of 
 the free will is the right. As the right of one is limited by 
 that of others there arises a conflict between will and will, 
 and this results in a compact, which is the embodiment of a 
 common will. This is the first step towards the formation 
 of the state, but not the only one, as the state does not 
 rest wholly upon compact, the will of the individual being 
 wholly inadequate to decide as to whether he will or will 
 not live in it. Compact refers to private property, and is 
 the origin of right. It is the conflict between the indi- 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 445 
 
 vidual will and the right or the universal will that gives 
 rise to the first division of mind viewed objectively, viz: 
 
 a. Jurisprudence, which dispenses law and guards the 
 rights of person and property. ]^ext we have : 
 
 h. Morality, which is found in the self-determination of 
 a free will as modified or influenced by the conscience. 
 This latter has three- elements : 1. That of resolution, the 
 inner determination of the acting subject. 2. That of pur- 
 pose, the completed act being regarded not according to 
 its consequences, but according to its relative worth in 
 reference to the acting subject. 3. That of the good, by 
 which the act is judged according to its universal worth. 
 Then follows the last triad of mind viewed objectively, viz : 
 
 c. Politics. This regards the state, which in its analysis 
 refers back to the family, and that again has its foundation 
 in marriage. Of this there are three elements, that unite 
 in composing it, viz: 1. The sexual relation, founded 
 upon a difference in sex. 2. The civil contract entered 
 into between the parties. 3. The love that either origin- 
 ally did, or should come to. exist between them. 
 
 Next to the family, Hegel ranks civil society in which the 
 members, though still independent individuals, are never- 
 theless bound together by three bonds : 1. By their wants. 
 2. By the constitution of rights as a means of security for 
 person and property. 3. By an outward administrative 
 arrangement. 
 
 Lastly, in Hegel's system comes the state, the ethical 
 whole, in the will of which is merged the individual and 
 the right of individuality.^ '* States " say he, '^ and the 
 minds of individual races pour their currents into the stream 
 of the world's history. The strife, the victory, and the 
 subjection of the spirits of individual races, and the passing 
 over of the world-spirit from one people to another, is the 
 content of the world's history. The development of the 
 world's history is generally connected with some ruling 
 
446 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 race, which carries in itself the world-spirit in its present 
 stage of development, and in distinction from which the 
 spirits of other races have no rights. Thus these race- 
 spirits stand around the throne of the absolute spirit, as the 
 executors of its actualization, as the witnesses and adorn- 
 ment of its glory." 
 
 3. The third and last general division in Hegel's philo- 
 sophy of mind is absolute mind. In this we no longer 
 view it as the property of the individual, but as belonging 
 to the race ; and its development is to be looked for not in 
 the life of a single man but in the history of the world. 
 In this we have : 
 
 1. -Esthetics, art developments, in which the beautiful is 
 the appearance of the idea through a sensible medium, as 
 a crystal, color, tone, poetry, in and through which it be- 
 comes actualized in the form of a limited phenomenon. It 
 is to the different ways in which matter and form are con- 
 nected that we are indebted for the different forms of art. 
 Of these there are three kinds: 1. The symbolic form of 
 art is that in which the matter preponderates, the thought 
 passing through and bringing out the ideal only with much 
 difficulty. 2. The classic form of art, in which the ideal 
 has attained its adequate existence in matter in which con- 
 tent and form are found absolutely befitting each other. 
 3. The romantic art, in which mind predominates ; where 
 the matter is the mere appearance and sign through which 
 the mind everywhere breaks out, and struggles up above 
 the material. A sample of the symbolic form is architec- 
 ture, in which the sensible matter preponderates, and the 
 object of the art is to seek the true conformity between 
 content and form. A sample of the classic is sculpture, 
 which gives to stone a bodily form, makes it represent the 
 body, and compels it in the end wholly to disappear in the 
 ideal, nothing being left of the material which does not 
 serve the idea. A sample of the romantic art is painting, 
 which represents the look, the disposition, the heart, all, in 
 fine, that goes to constitute the life of the soul. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 447 
 
 He enumerates two other forms of art, viz : 
 a. Music, whose material is sound, the vibration of a sono- 
 rous body. It leaves the field of sensuous intuition, and 
 works in the sensitive soul. 
 
 h. Poetry, the unloosed tongue of art, the speaking art, 
 which can represent everything. All other arts return, and 
 find their embodiment in poetry. 1. As epic, it represents 
 the figurative history of races, and thus corresponds to the 
 plastic arts. 2. As lyric, it expresses some inner condition 
 of the soul, corresponding to music. 3. As dramatic, it ex- 
 hibits the struggles between characters acting out of oppo- 
 site interests, and thus marks the point of union between 
 both these arts. 
 
 2. JSText to aesthetics follows religion, to which poetry 
 forms the transition. The object of every religion is to 
 reconcile the finite with the infinite, the subject with God. 
 All seek a union between the divine and the human. Here, 
 again, there are three 'steps or stages : 1. The pagan reli- 
 gions of the old world, in which God was only a power of 
 nature. 2. Judaism, in which God emerges from nature, 
 and attains to an exalted subjectivity full of power and 
 wisdom. 3. Christianity, in which a reconciliation between 
 God and the world is efiected by means of the unity of the 
 divine and human in the person of Christ. 
 
 3. In the third place, we have the absolute philosophy, 
 which consists in thought knowing itself as all truth, and 
 reproducing the whole natural and intellectual universe 
 from itself, having the entire system of philosophy for its 
 development " a closed circle of circles." In the age of 
 philosophy, religion rises to its purest reflective form, and 
 truth comes forth from her symbols to appear in her naked 
 reality. 
 
 Let us now see how the philosophy of mind is cast in 
 triads. We have : 
 
 1. Subjective mind. 
 
 2. Objective mind. 
 
 3. Absolute mind. 
 
448 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 1. Mind viewed subjectively presents US with : a. Anthro- 
 pology, b. Psychology, c. Will. 
 
 2. Mind viewed objectively presents us with: a. Jurispru- 
 dence, h. Morals. (Elements: 1. Eesolntion. 2. Purpose. 
 3. Good), c. Politics. (G-radations. 1. The family based 
 on the marriage triad, a. Sexual relation, h. Civil con- 
 tract, c. Love. 2. The civil society with its triune bond. 
 a. Wants. 6. Securities. c. Outward administrations, 
 d. The state). 
 
 3. The absolute mind presents us with: a. Esthetics, with 
 its three forms of art, and three illustrations, viz : 1. Sym- 
 bolic form : illustration — architecture. 2. Classic form : 
 illustration — sculpture. 3. Romantic form: illustration — 
 painting, h. Religion exhibited in three stages. 1. Pagan. 
 2. Judaism. 3. Christianity, c. Absolute philosophy. 
 
 The Hegelian system is not perfectly clear of comprehen- 
 sion. It turns upon two fundamental points. I'irst, the 
 unity of contradictories, or opposites, as the principle of all 
 human knowledge ; and, second, the identity of being and 
 thought. 
 
 The philosophy of Kant contained two elements : the 
 idealistic and the realistic. We have now traced the 
 idealistic to its culminating point. Its highest subjective 
 movement was realized in Fichte, its objective in Schelling. 
 In the former the absolute is to every one his own indivi- 
 dual self, beyond whose powers and perceptions we are 
 unable to go. In the latter, the absolute is made the living 
 soul of the universe, of which everything both in the 
 natural and mental world, is only an expansion. In Hegel 
 the absolute becomes a mere process, ever unfolding and 
 renewing itself in the world, and that in a manner identical 
 with the process of thought, with the method of philosophy. 
 Idealism had thus reached here its highest point because 
 the matter of our knowledge had here become synonomous 
 with its form, and thought all one with existence. The 
 ideal and the real thus being one, thought and existence 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 449 
 
 identical, the process by which the former is developed 
 must be the process of the whole of nature ; while the laws 
 of logic must be the laws of the universe ; and the dialectic 
 movement the method by which all things come into being 
 and subsist. This deity is reduced simply to a process 
 which is ever going on but is never accomplished, the 
 divine consciousness being absolutely one and identical 
 with the advancing consciousness of mankind. The hope 
 of immortality dies out from his stupendous system, which 
 at death returns the individual to the bosom of the infinite, 
 thus annihilating the individual man, but investing the 
 deity with an eternity of progress. Human freedom pales 
 and vanishes under the shadow of his system. The man 
 is but the mirror of the absolute. His consciousness must 
 ever roll onward by the fixed law of all being. His per- 
 sonality is sunk in the infinite. The annihilation of freedom 
 destroys moral obligation, and the law of progress being 
 fixed, man becomes irresponsible. Thus the philosophy 
 of Hegel has aided much in building up the lofty structure 
 of German rationalism. 
 
 Mysticism — Jacohi. Bealism — Herhart. 
 
 Speculative philosophy in its idealistic phase reached its 
 extremest limit in the system of Hegel. That system was 
 a regular outgrowth from those of Schelling, Fichte, and 
 Kant. Although the German mind, in its speculative ten- 
 dencies, has strongly followed this line of development 
 yet there have not been wanting sturdy efforts to escape 
 from it. Two shelters from it have been sought out : the 
 one in mysticism, the other in realism. The first is repre- 
 sented by Jacobi, the second by Herbart. 
 
 Frederick Heinrich Jacobi, was born at Dusseldorf in 
 1743. He agreed with Kant as to the office of the understand- 
 ing, that all it could do was to give form and arrangement 
 to that material which is drawn from other sources. The 
 
 VI] 57 
 
450 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 understaDding he held to be that faculty in man which ob- 
 serves itself, finding the representations, sensations and 
 feelings always ready made. The process by which things, 
 from without become sensations in us and thus are enabled 
 to enter the soul through the senses, he deemed an inpene- 
 trable mystery. That there was a reciprocal action be- 
 tween things objective and the subjective faculties that 
 take cognizance of them is apparent, but how the one 
 could produce an impression upon the other, each difier- 
 ing so entirely from the other, is a mystery and a miracle, 
 Kant had admitted a mutual action between the senses 
 and their objects, but he held that our feelings resulting 
 from this action were so thoroughly mixed up with an 
 ingredient famished by our understanding, termed by him 
 imagination, that the sense-perceptions might be regarded 
 as subjective products, which no longer corresponded to 
 the object. Jacobi took the directly opposite of this posi- 
 tion. He maintained that the images or the whole multi- 
 plicity of representations in us are really and actually 
 existing. 
 
 Jacobi also differed from Kant as to the reason, which 
 Kant held to be a logical faculty. He held it to be that 
 sense or faculty by which we have immediate perception of 
 that which, in the super-sensual sphere of mind or intelli- 
 gence, has existence for us. He maintained that we could 
 neither explain the mode of acquiring our sensuous im- 
 pressions, nor of those ideas which we find actually in us. 
 But yet their existence is undeniable, and requires no 
 further demonstration. Jacobi here reached, and, in his 
 mode, remedied the fundamental error of Kant, which con- 
 sisted in grounding that which is immediately certain, 
 which should itself serve as the basis of everything else, 
 upon something else which was still deeper. 
 
 The great merit of Jacobi consists in his presenting act- 
 uality as the true test and foundation by and upon which 
 all knowledge may be recognized. He said to philoso- 
 phers practically, " whatever you are to acknowledge as 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 451 
 
 valid must be deduced from higher grounds.^ You require 
 that everything be demonstrated. But what are you to do 
 with the highest principle, with the last and final truth ? 
 There you cannot proceed any further, and have after all 
 to stop short at mere actuality of existence." 
 
 Jacob! demonstrated that the logical and synthetic method 
 could not be applied to metaphysics, and he did not agree 
 with Kant that the presentiments of the high and the 
 divine, which are in us, are nothing more than the secret 
 pressure of those logical fetters which are experienced in 
 drawing conclusions. " He I'egarded them rather as the 
 peculiar treasure, and the hidden riches of the human 
 spirit. What he at first simply termed faith, and after- 
 wards feeling and inward revelation, he ultimately desig- 
 nated the name of reason. He did not design to develop 
 any system. In fact he regarded all systems with doubt 
 and suspicion, fearing that the more there was of unity, and 
 of keeping to rules, the greater tendency there must be to 
 materialism, idealism, naturalism or fatalism. He held it 
 impossible to comprehend the unconditioned, because the 
 assumption of such knowledge does not disclose the con- 
 nection between the unconditioned and the conditioned, 
 although it necessarily refers the latter to the former. Yet 
 we can discover no necessary transition from the one to 
 the other. The general cannot immediately descend into 
 the particular, nor unity into variety ; and God cannot be ap- 
 prehended as merely a formal summing up, a comprehend- 
 ing and containing of those objects in nature which are 
 separated from one another.^ He maintained that a God 
 who could be proved was no God, for the ground of proof is 
 ever above that which is to be proved, the latter having its 
 whole reality from the former. In proving the existence 
 of God, therefore, he would be derived from a ground 
 which was both before and above him. Hence the paradox 
 of Jacobi : ^ "It is for the interest of science that there be 
 
 ^Ghalyhaus,m. Udem^Ql. ' SoJiwegle, 273 , 
 
452 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 no God, no supernatural, and no extra or supermundane 
 being. Only upon the condition that nature alone is, and 
 is, therefore, independent and all in all, can science hope to 
 gain its goal of perfection, and become, like its object 
 itself, all in all." 
 
 The faith within which Jacobi took refuge was intended 
 to be a rational one, not one of authority merely, that would 
 be satisfied with everything, a mere passive receiving and 
 accepting, but one invested with powers of criticism, and 
 possessing the right of choosing or refusing. The flight 
 from cognition through conception to faith, he calls the 
 salto mortale of the human reason. "Every certainty 
 through a conception demands another certainty, but in 
 faith we are led to an immediate certainty which needs no 
 ground nor proof, and which is, in fact, absolutely exclusive 
 of all proof." He calls faith a confidence which does not 
 arise from arguments, and claims that we know through it 
 alone the sensible equally as the supersensible ; and that 
 there are but two sources of all human knowledge, viz : 
 revelation and faith. 
 
 In opposition to Kant he defends empiricism, aflolrming 
 the truthfulness of the sense-perception, and denying the 
 4 priority of space and time. The philosophy of Jacobi 
 was that of faith and feeling. The latter expresses more 
 accurately that which he had in view, than the term reason 
 which was afterwards employed. In feeling, a substantial 
 unity is presupposed between him who feels and that 
 which is felt. While feeling, according to him, we 
 have that which is real, actual, and essential, and still 
 in connection with that which is ideal. Afterwards in 
 the reflection of the understanding, this element of re- 
 ality vanishes entirely, and nothing remains but what is 
 ideal. Hence he says: "There is light in my heart, but 
 it goes out whenever I attempt to bring it into the under- 
 standing, which is the true luminary of these two ?^ That of 
 
 1,278. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 453 
 
 the understandiDg, whicla though it reveals fixed forms, 
 shows behind them only a baseless gulf? Or that of the 
 heart, which points its light promisingly upwards, though 
 determinate knowledge escapes it? Can the human 
 spirit grasp the truth unless it possesses these two lumina- 
 naries united in one light ? And is this union conceivable 
 except through a miracle." 
 
 Thus Jacobi, at a time when idealism was threatening 
 to absorb everything into itself, to consign to nihility the 
 external world ; and to sweep away all the great bound- 
 aries of human knowledge ; stood forth boldly in defense 
 of realism, a realism which reposed wholly upon faith in 
 our direct intuition of truth, whether it be human or divine. 
 He demanded that the human soul should yield up some- 
 thing more than a dead and empty mechanism of logical 
 thinking and shadowy representations. He claimed that 
 in the human spirit there is a deep and inviolable treasure. 
 And although concealed behind the veil of Isis, he could 
 at least point to its reality. He felt and believed more 
 than he reasoned, and hence has been ranked among the 
 mystics, and consigned to the realm of mysticism. 
 
 John Frederick Herbart was born at Oldenburgh in the 
 year 1776. He was professor of philosophy successively in 
 the university of Gottiugen, at Koningsberg, and again at 
 Gottingen where he died in 1841. 
 
 The philosophy of Herbart was a reaction produced by 
 the bold idealism inaugurated by Kant, and carried to its 
 ultimate legitimate results by Fichte. Kan t had undermined 
 the foundations of all sensuous experience, and transformed 
 it from reality into mere appearance, and yet had frequently 
 referred to the matter of sensations as being the material 
 of knowledge. Thus he had furnished starting points both 
 to the idealistic and the realistic, the former of which was 
 seized hold of by Fichte, and the latter by Herbart. He 
 took the objective stand point, and urged the claims of 
 empiricism upon the attention. He claimed that what is 
 
454 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 actually furnished from without constitutes the necessary 
 basis for all philosophical investigation. That we can only 
 philosophize on that which is furnished to us. That we can 
 only rectify by reflection our representations, notions and 
 ideas, but can never create something out of one general 
 and empty idea.^ Hence he would define philosophy to be 
 nothing else than " a scientific elaborating and rectifying 
 of our general notions, for the purpose of cognizing that 
 which is actually furnished to us." That the end and aim 
 of all reflection is to understand and attain to correct 
 notions of nature both in and out of ourselves. 
 
 In order to this we are to accept whatever our conscious- 
 ness furnishes, but not as what is all really true and yet as 
 containing the elements of all truth and mass of material out 
 of which the one connected whole of truth is to be formed. 
 
 Although things may be dififerent from what they appear, 
 yet there must be some ground upon which the appearance 
 proceeds, and we must look to what actually is not only 
 for a starting point, but also as the only means by which 
 to verify and rectify the results at which we have arrived. 
 
 Our ordinary notions of objects and their mutual con- 
 nection involve us in contradictions. It is obvious that 
 what are termed the secondary qualities of objects belong 
 to ourselves and form no part of the objects. This is the 
 entrance wedge of skepticism, and from thence it proceeds 
 to doubt and question the reality of all qualities we are 
 accustomed to regard as belonging to external objects. 
 Thus it goes back until it strikes upon the idealistic 
 foundation of Descartes' cogito, ergo sum, upon which, as 
 an abutment, the idealist seeks to throw a bridge across into 
 the real world. Herbart denies that this is practicable, 
 and hence is led to seek in objects and their mutual con- 
 nections and relations the evidence of their existence. 
 
 In order to this he takes a distinction between simply 
 to be and that which is, insisting that the former being is 
 
 Ghalyhaus, 94, 95. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 455 
 
 not of itself an entity any more than standing, walking, or 
 running is, while that which is, or existence, implies in it- 
 self a something, a what, that does exist. This, therefore, 
 he terms a real, a something to which reality belongs, al- 
 though it is inseparable from existence itself. 
 
 Inasmuch, then, as the real must have some application to 
 nature, and everything must necessarily be illusory, and as 
 many qualities will not allow of absolute position, or of real- 
 ity in themselves, it becomes important to inquire what the 
 idea of absolute position, or of existence implies. And 
 that is : 
 
 1. That it contain no negation or limitation which would 
 have the effect of destroying absoluteness. A thing which 
 exists not by itself but only as it leans against another 
 object, and depends upon it, can have no existence in the 
 proper sense of the term. 
 
 2. That things affirmed as absolute be such that, in 
 reference to its quality, it can be conceived as entirely 
 simple ; that is neither as a multiple or as having internal 
 contradictions. 
 
 3. That it be wholly indeterminable by notions of magni- 
 tude. That that which is in and by itself real be never viewed 
 as a quantum, as divisible, and as occupying definite space 
 and time. Space and time are denied to the notion of 
 the real in itself, it being considered in reference to space 
 much the same as a mathematical point. The notion of 
 the real does not exclude the idea of numerical multipli- 
 city, only the union of many parts and qualities in one and 
 the same real. But the notion of absolute reality must 
 never be confounded with that which is existing, or the 
 real itself. The objects themselves constitute the latter, 
 while the former is only the way and mode of conceiving 
 them. 
 
 Herbart holds that the import of a notion is not one and 
 the same with the intellectual process of forming it, and 
 that while we possess a notion of the real and the existing, 
 we must be careful not to confound our notion, viz : the 
 
456 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 manner in which the object that is viewed takes shape in 
 our minds, with that object itself. 
 
 The question here occurs as to whence is derived the 
 something or the what that is joined to, and gives reality 
 to existence? It is immediately furnished in sensation. 
 It is that which is actual, and without which it would be 
 impossible to demonstrate that anything actually existed. 
 That only exists, and really exists, which is not merely 
 appearance, and it alone can be furnished. We must find 
 the idea of it somewhere, otherwise everything would be 
 represented as nonentity. 
 
 The philosophical system of Herbart had a threefold divi- 
 sion : 1. Logic. 2. Metaphysics. 3. Esthetics. But 
 these are neither bound together by any common princi- 
 ple, nor do they acknowledge the control of any one gene- 
 ral fundamental doctrine. There is nothing peculiar in 
 his logic. His metaphysics are : 
 
 1. General, occupying the place of what was formerly 
 ontology. 
 
 2. Applied metaphysics, which again is divisible into psy- 
 chology, philosophy of nature, and philosophy of religion. 
 
 The metaphysics of Herbart start from sensations or de- 
 terminations which are empirically furnished. These are 
 first elaborated into representations, and these again into 
 general or collective notions, in which our consciousness 
 comprehends together that which is common to different 
 phenomena, making abstraction of that which is peculiar 
 to each. These notions can only be considered as abbrevi- 
 ations of experience, the point of importance being that 
 these single objects do really exist, and have really been 
 furnished in sensation. 
 
 The metaphysics are more especially conversant with 
 general and abstract notions, and these more especially 
 regard the following three, viz : thing, matter, and the me. 
 The thing appears both compound and variable. It is the 
 me that more especially opens up the world of immediate 
 inward experience. These three fundamental ideas, each 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 457 
 
 giving rise to a separate contradiction, point us to three 
 branches of metaphysics, viz : 
 
 1. Ontology, which has reference to the thing manifold 
 in itself, and changing. 
 
 2. Synechology, which has reference to matter, or the 
 appearance of the real in time, space and motion. 
 
 3. Eidolology, having reference to those peculiar phe- 
 nomena which are revealed through our consciousness, or 
 in the me. 
 
 In the first, or ontology, the great problem to be solved 
 is to show how different predicates can coexist in one sub- 
 stance; and conversely, how one simple substance can 
 exhibit a plurality of predicates. This problem is sought 
 to be explained through the medium of a principle termed 
 by Herbart the method of relations. Agreeable to this 
 principle we must suppose a thing to be composed of many 
 essences, all independent of each other, instead of one 
 absolutely simple one. And it is owing to the different 
 relations in which they stand to each other, that the appear- 
 ance is presented of many predicates existing in one sub- 
 ject.^ Thus, as an illustration, a binary star appears as one 
 to the naked eye, but through the medium of the telescope 
 is seen to consist of two. And so an object in nature may 
 appear to be one, but by means of philosophy is discovered 
 to be manifold. The separate and independent essences 
 which enter into and serve to compose all things, ever 
 remain absolutely the same, because they are entirely self- 
 sustained. But when they come to be viewed in different 
 lights, and from different stand points in relation to each 
 other, then they exhibit a multitude of different character- 
 istics. 
 
 To account for this, the doctrine of accidental views is 
 introduced. By this is meant that one and the same no- 
 tion may, without any alteration of its essence, be often 
 
 ' Morell, 486. 
 
 VI] 58 
 
458 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 viewed as standing in very different relations to other no- 
 tions. Thus one and the same line may often be viewed 
 either as sine, tangent, or radius of a circle, without ever 
 ceasing to be a straight line, and the same identical straight 
 line. A tone in music may be viewed as a third, a fifth, 
 a seventh, and as being harmonious or discordant, without 
 having ceased to be one and the same tone. It is not es- 
 sential, but merely accidental to that higher notion of a 
 straight line that it stands in such relations as to be either 
 sine, tangent, or radius. 
 
 This philosophy views each separate and apparently sim- 
 ple thing as composed of an aggregate of many simple 
 reals, which occurring together in our experience we are led 
 to regard as one. The reals that play so conspicuous a 
 part in Herbart's philosophy bear some analogy to the 
 atoms of the atomatic theory, and to the monads of Leib- 
 nitz. They differ from the former, however, in not being 
 impenetrable, and from the latter in having in themselves 
 no power of representation, nor any peculiar inner circum- 
 stances. They have, however, been termed monads, and 
 the doctrine a system of monadology. 
 
 One great point of inquiry in Herbart's philosophy relates 
 to the mutual influence of one real, or monad, upon another, 
 the relation of causality. The notion of a real is that it is 
 simple, unchangeable, and without extension as to time or 
 space. It is self-existent. Their appearance in certain 
 continually recurring groups demands an inquiry into their 
 actual connections. How can one real, or monad, in an 
 assemblage be regarded as the cause of their being joined 
 together? Unity is a phenomenon that is furnished, and 
 how is it of possible attainment? It is owing to the fact 
 that one of the many reals assembled together occupies the 
 place of a central point of union. To it all the others 
 point, and like radii of the total appearance are joined to- 
 gether in it, as in a central point. 
 
 Alteration in bodies may take place in three ways : 1. 
 From external causes. 2. From self-determination. 3. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 459 
 
 As absolute becoming. The first is here the only subject 
 of inquiry. 
 
 The alterations in the thing which the given appearance 
 points out to us, are produced only by the coming together 
 and separating of the monads, more briefly by their coming 
 and going. But if their coming together produces different 
 phenomena, owing to the different qualities of each,^ then 
 every single monad must be instrumental, upon every 
 other, in causing a difference of appearance. Thus each 
 monad acts upon everj other, and the internal state of each 
 must be determined or altered by that coming together. 
 But as each monad is in its nature unchangeable, such 
 change can be only apparent, not actual. To account for 
 what is really going on in every one of the monads during 
 that change, recourse is had to the accidental views before 
 mentioned. The activity in all changes tends to self-, 
 preservation, and the mode of this latter will vary according 
 to the relation in which its own peculiar quality stands to 
 that of another monad. Thus the antagonistic states of 
 the monad, while in combination with each other, may be 
 regarded as so many active and efficient forces, all whose 
 tendencies meet, on the other hand, with a corresponding 
 resistance, and this is assumed as sufficient ground for all 
 actual phenomena. 
 
 The second part of metaphysics is: 2. Synechology, 
 which seeks to resolve the problem of corporeal matter. 
 The great problem here presenting itself for solution is — 
 how monads, which themselves fill no space, and have no 
 extension, can, when compounded, constitute an essence 
 apparently extended, such as matter. Kant had declared 
 that time and space were only the subjective forms of in- 
 tuition, but Herbart denies this and insists that, constrained 
 by our very thinking, we feel obliged to ascribe to them 
 objective truth ; that they continue to assert their right to 
 be considered as actual on speculative grounds, just because 
 
 ^ ChalyMus, 127- 
 
460 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 these categories manifest themselves as relations whicli 
 require to be thought. If we conceive a single monad by 
 itself we cannot determine any locality in which it exists. 
 It only attains locality when we conceive a second point 
 between which and itself there is to be a certain definite 
 distance. The representations of standing still and of 
 movement cannot be observed on one single point, nor 
 conceived of in the case of one single point. Both can only 
 be ascribed to the relation in which many real things are 
 conceived to stand towards one another. Our idea of 
 motion arises out of the conception of a net work of 
 relations, no absolutely fixed or moveable stand point of 
 connection being found, the. whole representation only 
 indicating a relative relationship, and that one relating to 
 the observer. Space and time, or measure of celerity, are 
 nothing more than the elements of which motion is com- 
 pounded, and hence are objective, and released from the 
 categories of Kant. 
 
 The external grouping of things, according to Herbart, 
 is derivable from the internal activity of the essences, the 
 internal principle of which is that of self-preservation. 
 
 The fundamental principle of Herbart's philosophy is the 
 simplicity and absolute immutability of the real or the 
 monad. But the actual state of things cannot be satisfac- 
 torily accounted for without also assigning to it a kind of 
 internal capacity of formation, although this would not be 
 entirely consistent with the principles upon which Herbart's 
 philosophy proceeds. 
 
 The third part of metaphysics is : 3. Eidolology, the me, 
 the doctrine of the human soul. The me is our person, 
 and implies everything belonging immediately to our body 
 and to our spirit. It is not, however, the personal, but the 
 pure and absolute me, which is only arrived at after every- 
 thing which is only state of the soul has been thrown aside. 
 It is found only in the inmost depth of self-consciousness. 
 It is found in the sensations, representations, aspirations, 
 all the activities of inner life. It is the central, connecting 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 461 
 
 point of all thinking and doing. Its office consists not 
 only in representing to itself the outer world, but also the 
 inner, or its own self. 
 
 The first question presented is : Is the me merely self- 
 consciousness, or is it an essence ? Knowledge, although 
 a mere state or activity, yet cannot be conceived without 
 some being in that state, or author of that activity. The 
 me must in itself be something real. 
 
 But the me has many properties, states, powers, facul- 
 ties. It is, therefore, a real, or monad, with many varying 
 characteristics. It knows about itself, and hence is the 
 subject to which its own portrait is presented as an object. 
 The image, however, is the same as the subject, and Fichte 
 designated the me as the absolute subject-object, or as the 
 identity of subject and object. Herbart, however, denies 
 that the eye can see itself, or that it will ever be possible 
 to pronounce subject and object the same without involv- 
 ing a contradiction. 
 
 The me is given or furnished just as it exists, and is mul- 
 tiplied, beholding itself in many different states, as that of 
 feeling, thinking, willing, all representations of ourselves, 
 and designated as our me. Thus the object has to be 
 multiplied, and something is to be true in the combination 
 of these me-objects which cannot be of any one singly. And 
 when a number of objects are represented, something about 
 them must appertain to him who represents them, and that 
 is their comprehension into one representation, and the re- 
 sults to which this gives rise. Something has to be noticed 
 with reference tothe various objects which would not apply 
 to any one of them taken singly, and the representation of 
 ourselves is in some degree made dependent on the repre- 
 sentation of objects, referring to, but not coinciding with 
 them. 
 
 But all the possible states cannot exhaust the me, as it 
 must possess the capacity of opposing and distinguishing 
 itself from all these different states. It remains as the ever 
 identical to itself in all these states. We live first in the 
 
462 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 objective, and are wholly taken up by it, and through it 
 attain gradually to self-consciousness ; and then from it and 
 through the individual states we reach ourselves, and then 
 may contrast the essence of the me vdth all those states and 
 determinations. 
 
 Again, in the representing of the objective by or to self- 
 consciousness there must be a mutual conditioning of one 
 another. One sensation must modify or exclude another. 
 It is this conditioning, contradicting, impeding or disturb- 
 ing that brings motion into the soul. This peculiar mode 
 of eliciting self-consciousness from the mutual conditioning 
 of the objective dispenses with different powers and facul- 
 ties in the soul, as of feeling, memory, representation, etc. 
 
 The conditioning of one thing by another does not here 
 occur as between real essences, but as between representa- 
 tions merely, which depend for their existence only on the 
 self-preservation of the soul. 
 
 The individual representations are powers which resist 
 but do not destroy each other. While resisting they 
 remain unchanged. The only alteration is in the degree 
 of intensity on which their vividness, distinctness or obscu- 
 rity depend. Everything depends on the sum and the pro- 
 portion of the resistance. The former is the burden to be 
 distributed arising from the antagonisms of the representa- 
 tion. One representation is always more especially present, 
 and that one is generally engaged in a struggle with another. 
 One by gaining a prominence over the rest, weakens or 
 impedes the others ; although one cannot wholly suppress 
 the other, where there are but two. The very ground of 
 the struggle is inconsistent with the entire suppression. 
 In a struggle between three one may be entirely pushed 
 aside. But those thus suppressed do not wholly disappear. 
 They wait on the threshold of consciousness, for the favor- 
 able moment when they can reappear. These representa- 
 tions while thus kept back and operating only in the dark, 
 are the feelings, which are to be distinguished from sensa- 
 tions. As their tendency to push forward is attended with 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 463 
 
 more or less success, they become desires, and these, 
 inspired with the hope of success, mature into volitions. 
 There is no special faculty of the will, but only individual, 
 determined motions within the province of the self-preserv- 
 ations of the soul. The soul-monad, with reference to 
 its self-preservation, is capable of containing within itself 
 such states as may, under favorable circumstances, become, 
 with other monads, the cause of definite external forma- 
 tion and movement, and this furnishes a principle of assimi- 
 lation and organization, upon which living phenomena are 
 susceptible of explanation. 
 
 In regard to the seat of the soul, Herbart assigns no one 
 permanent seat, but supposes the whole middle region, the 
 sensorium commune, may furnish its place of residence. 
 He supposed the soul might move forwards or backwards 
 upon or within the pons varolii. 
 
 The philosophy of Herbart was a protest against the all- 
 absorbing idealism of Fichte, an idealism that started from 
 the single factor subjective and ultimately derived every- 
 thing from itself. In opposition to this he claimed, and 
 correctly, that it is impossible to account for a multiplicity 
 of phenomena on the supposition of one abstract factor. 
 One of the objections urged against his system is that the 
 objective truth of a substantial and unitous connection is 
 entirely wanting, while we have it in ourselves subjectively, 
 but only subjectively. Again, that we have no one single 
 principle as a starting point, but are directed to an infinite 
 multiplicity of commencements ; and that unity which^s the 
 ultimate aim of all science, is only found in the last in- 
 stance, in the result. The whole system is opposed to a 
 genetical one, of which a pure idealism is an instance. 
 The unity is only subjective, and not objective, as it applies 
 to knowledge and not to existence. 
 
 We can linger no longer with the German school of 
 philosophy. "We have seen the necessity in which it origin- 
 ated. We have traced it from Kant, who in endeavoring 
 
464 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 to plant himself upon both the subjective and objective 
 stand points, gave a decided preponderance to the former. 
 "This was taken up by Fichte at the point where Kant had 
 left it, and carried out with an unflinching logic into all its 
 startling results and conclusions. Then legitimately fol- 
 lows the pantheism of Schelling and Hegel. In the mean 
 time to escape from the merciless idealism of Fichte, philo- 
 sophy took refuge in the mysticism of Jacobi, and the realism 
 of Herbart. We have presented the great names, and the 
 most important speculative problems which they have 
 proposed and endeavored to solve. It must certainly be 
 conceded that the rationalistic philosophy, as developed 
 from the subjective stand point, into a pure and unmiti- 
 gated idealism, has been more perfectly unfolded, more 
 clearly displayed; and pushed into all its results, in a 
 manner far m.ore satisfactory than had ever before been 
 accomplished. So also the splendid pantheisms of Schel- 
 ling and Hegel haji left little to be desired by those who 
 are willing to dispense with a superintending providence in 
 the government of the universe. From the fact that the 
 German mode of thinking is somewhat peculiar; that it is 
 first given to the world in the German language, and is 
 known to Englishmen and Americans, only through the 
 reading of the German and by translations, it results that 
 there is much difficulty in the finding of such terms as will 
 convey the ideas with precision, and yet be fully under- 
 stood by the Anglo-Saxon mind. With far more preten- 
 sions than the Scottish philosophy, it claims to satisfy deeper 
 wants, and to solve profounder problems ; but no one can 
 arise from its attentive study without feeling that the 
 human mind can ask more questions than it can answer, 
 and propose more problems than satisfactory solutions. 
 We seem conscious that we have been gazing upon an 
 edifice of stupendous proportions, and yet its outlines reach 
 so far into the land of shadows that we are unabled to 
 grasp its dimensions, or even to feel that we have formed 
 with it a very intimate acquaintance. It does, however, 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 465 
 
 add some necessary links to that ever lengthening chain, 
 which the human mind is dragging onward, ever nearing 
 and yet never reaching the point, at which it can fully pro- 
 claim its own self-comprehension, and along with it all 
 those matters and things which are to it objects of know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Eclectic Philosophy — Cousin. 
 
 "We have seen that the critical philosophy was a rebound 
 from the skepticism of Hume. So also was the eclectic 
 PHILOSOPHY a rebound, a protest, a refuge from the sensual- 
 ism, materialism, and idealogy of Condillac, Cabanis, De 
 Tracey and other French writers. The materialistic school 
 that had merged all in sensation, and derived from the 
 organism of the brain and nervous system everything, 
 whether of thought or of feeling that belongs to man, had 
 run its course, and having developed all there was in it, 
 had, in a manner, ceased to be attractive. There must, 
 therefore, be a change. A new philosophy was demanded 
 by the intellect of France. M. Laromiguiere born in 1756, 
 the pupil of Condillac, was the point of divergence. Con- 
 dillac had based the sensualistic system upon the great 
 fundamental faculty of sensation, where, upon that system, 
 it can alone belong. M. Laromiguiere substitutes in its 
 place that of attention, thus, by a single word, effecting a 
 transfer from a physiological to a psychological stand point. 
 This he carries out by a psychological system. He separates 
 the powers and capacities of the mind into two classes, the 
 understanding and the will, using these terms to denote 
 two distinct assemblages of mental phenomena. He makes 
 three faculties of the understanding, viz : 1. Attention. 
 2. Comparison. 3. Reasoning. Attention being the fun- 
 damental principle from which the others proceed. 
 
 So under the class of will, he makes the foundation of 
 all voluntary action to be desire, and springing from this 
 
 VI] 59 
 
466 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 as a basis, the two corresponding phenomena of preference 
 and liberty. Finally he shows that desire itself is only a 
 peculiar form of attention, and that thus the fundamental 
 principle of intellectual and voluntary life is the same. 
 
 As to the origin of ideas he makes the material of all 
 knowledge come from our sensibility, but he makes that 
 of four kinds. 1. That produced by the action of external 
 things upon the mind. 2. That produced by the action of 
 our faculties upon each other. 3. That produced by the re- 
 currence and comparison of several ideas together, giving 
 the perception of relations. 4. That produced by the con- 
 templation of human actions as right or wrong which is the 
 moral faculty. Thus the source, or origin, of ideas is i^auch 
 broader than that proposed by Locke. 
 
 There are also two other French metaphysicians who 
 precede and prepare the way for Victor Cousin. One of 
 these was Peter Paul Roger-Collard, who introduced the 
 doctrines of the Scottish school, giving the appellation of 
 intellectual instinct to what Eeid calls principles of common 
 sense ; and Stewart, primary laws of reason. 
 
 The other was M. Maine de Biran who, penetrating the 
 depths of consciousness, developed the activity of the human 
 mind, the power of the will. He proclaimed the doctrine 
 that the soul is a cause, a force, an active principle, and 
 that the voluntary nature of its thoughts and impulses can 
 alone explain the phenomena of consciousness. He even 
 held that the idea of substance was to us nothing more than 
 that of a cause, and that the dynamical theory of the uni- 
 verse, or the identity of substance and force, was the true 
 philosophical basis. 
 
 In the analysis of any voluntary act, M. Biran detects 
 three elements : 1. The consciousness of a voluntary 
 effort.^ 2. The consciousness of a movement produced. 
 3. A fixed relation between the effort on one hand and 
 the movement on the other. The source of all is the will, 
 
 ^Morell,Q^^. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 467 
 
 which is the representative of the personality. This is the 
 efficient cause both of thinking and of acting, regulating 
 the flow of thought as well as the course of action. 
 
 M. Biran's philosophy may be essentially summed up in 
 three positions : 
 
 The first consists in placing in the will all the elements 
 of human activity. The immediate effect of its exertion is 
 seen in all the muscular movements of the organism with 
 which it is connected. 
 
 The second consists in identifying the will with person- 
 ality, itself thus resolving the soul into a collection of forces 
 that are always aggressive, ever acting, and never passive. 
 
 The third consists in evoking the idea of causality from 
 the consciousness of our own acts of volition. Here the 
 power exerted, and the effects produced, are facts revealed 
 through our consciousness. The idea of cause thus ori- 
 ginated is transferred into the objective world, and reposing 
 upon analogy we conclude that there also exists the neces- 
 sity of a sufficient power for the production of every effect. 
 In the exposition of this third and last position he affirms 
 that the universe consists of certain powers or causes 
 which are in operation;^ and that these powers or causes 
 are only known as objective realizations of our own inward 
 personal effort. It will thus be seen that M. Biran was in 
 the highway, and already far advanced towards the idealism 
 ofFichte. 
 
 This brings us to Victor Cousin, who is the great exponent 
 of the school of eclecticism, to the consideration of which 
 we now approach. Cousin was born in 1792, and enjoyed 
 rare opportunities for the study of philosophy. He made 
 himself familiar not only with the teachings of the three we 
 have just mentioned, but also with the critical philosophy, 
 and the doctrines of the German teachers, as well as those 
 of Leibnitz, Descartes, Locke, and others. From all 
 these he derived the eclectic doctrine. His thought was 
 
 Morell, 641. 
 
468 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 that the world's thinking had progressed far enough to 
 justify the conclusion that the germs of all truth had been 
 presented, but always mixed with error. That error is 
 nothing but an incomplete view of truth. That all systems 
 are incomplete views of the reality, but are set up for com- 
 plete images of the reality. That all systems containing a 
 mixture of truth and error have only to be brought together,^ 
 and the error would be eliminated by the juxtaposition of 
 system with system. That the truth, or portion of the truth, 
 found in one system would be assimilated with the portions 
 of the truth which are in other systems. And that, con- 
 sistent with these principles, eclecticism means the bringing 
 together of all discovered truths eliminated from their 
 accompanying errors, and the elaboration of a system out 
 of this body of truths. 
 
 In the development of this philosophy we are naturally 
 first attracted to his method. Of this there are two : the 
 rationalistic, which seeks to grasp at once the absolute or 
 fundamental principle from which everything proceeds, 
 and then to follow it out into all its varieties of applica- 
 , tion ; the psychological, which merely observes, arranges, 
 classifies, and thus ultimately arrives at the principle or 
 law. The one is the deductive method of Aristotle ; the 
 other the inductive of Bacon. The one is synthesis ; the 
 other analysis. The one descends from generalities ; the 
 other ascends from particulars. 
 
 The psychological method is that adopted by Cousin. 
 He considers philosophy as well as physics to be a science 
 of facts. The main difference is that in physics, these 
 facts are given by the senses, in philosophy by conscious- 
 ness, but that in both cases the application of the inductive 
 method is substantially the same, and is governed by the 
 same general rules. 
 
 I:Teither would he rest on mere observation of facts alone. 
 As a system of experimenting and reasoning forms a part 
 
 Lewes, 649. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of the Baconian method in physics, so also, according to 
 him does it in philosophy. In the latter, reflection is the 
 instrument of experiment, and fills the place of artificial 
 instruments and reproductive processes in physical science. 
 
 M. Cousin makes psychology the basis and starting 
 point of all true philosophy. He would first examine and 
 classify the phenomena of mind. He would enter by 
 reflection into the chambers of the soul, investigating every 
 fact of the consciousness there presented; and having 
 obtained these data, would reason upon them with preci- 
 sion, in accordance with a sound logic. 
 
 In beginning with the psychology he differs from the 
 G-erman school. That commences with the absolute, and 
 reaches psychology through a combination of metaphysics 
 and physics. It is rather constructive than inductive. 
 ' In the different applications of this method come up for 
 solution some of the most profound of philosophical prob- 
 lems. M. Cousin has not given to the world any complete 
 philosophical system. In his JPhilosophical Fragments 
 and Lectures on the History of Modern Fhilosophy are 
 to be found his views on philosophical questions. These 
 he puts forth boldly, and clearly compared with those of 
 the German writers. As they are drawn from all the 
 past and present of philosophy they are always inge- 
 nious, often convincing, and never unworthy an attentive 
 examination. 
 
 The first subject of consideration to which his method is 
 directed, is : 
 
 I. Psychology, and in this he makes a complete escape 
 from the fetters that formerly in France had so effectually 
 bound everything under the heavy weight of materialism. 
 In his exposition of psychological phenomena he in great 
 part follows out the course already marked out by M. 
 Maine de Biran. He goes into the depths of conscious- 
 ness, and undertakes first the classification of its pheno- 
 mena. These he divides into three classes: referable to 
 
470 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 three great elementary faculties, whicli iu their combina- 
 tions comprise and explain all others. These are : 
 
 1. Those of the will. 
 
 2. Those of the reason. 
 
 3. Those of sensation. 
 
 These three are capable of simultaneous exercise, and 
 are blended together in the unity of consciousness. But 
 although constituting a perfect unity in intellectual life, 
 yet in their nature and essential characteristics they are 
 perfectly distinct. 
 
 The faculty of will is placed first, because in its exercise 
 is found that element which peculiarly constitutes our dis- 
 tinct personality. It also involves causality. Those things 
 that possess no personality are such as are wholly under 
 external influence. All that which we express by the 
 word nature is impersonal. It is wholly subject to that 
 which is extrinsic, and has no source of power in itself. 
 The sensations arising from contact with the external 
 world, and the ideas which spring spontaneously from the 
 constitution of our faculties, are wholly irrespective of will. 
 The power and the influence of both are as certain and as 
 necessary as the outward force which controls the move- 
 ments of the material objects around us. "When all the 
 conditions either of a sensation or a rational idea are com- 
 plete, the will cannot prevent the sensibility or the reason 
 from entering into exercise. Neither the sensation nor the 
 idea ask or obtain permission of the will to become facts 
 of consciousness. 
 
 Before the will comes into existence, man is but a part 
 of nature and subject to the play of the physical and spiritual 
 forces by which he is surrounded. But the consciousness 
 of an inner power changes the entire character. Man no 
 longer submits passively to the action of causes from with- 
 out or within. The will has become a power that wells 
 up from the depths of his own personality, and makes him, 
 in turn, a cause which reacts upon others, thus essentially 
 modifying his course of life. The will must, therefore, be 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. - 47I 
 
 regarded as the constituent element of personality. It is 
 only in its activity that we are able to recognize ourselves. 
 It is only by distinguishing ourselves from our sensations 
 and their objects that we can have self-consciousness. 
 
 In the consciousness of our own personal activity we 
 awake to the first notion of cause. In its very essence the 
 will is, in fact, a cause, a power, a force. The primitive no- 
 tion of our own will as a personal cause, becomes the type 
 and condition of the notion of cause in general, and of exter- 
 nal impersonal causes. 
 
 All mere personal acts have their cause in an active 
 power, the only cause of particular actions being referred 
 to the activity itself. Hence results freedom. The very 
 notion of liberty is that of a power which acts by an inher- 
 ent energy of its own, by a power of self-determination. 
 Liberty is not self-determination in act, but in power; and 
 the causal energy of the will is entirely distinct from its 
 instruments or external manifestations. There may exist 
 a perfect paralysis of the muscles of locomotion, and yet 
 the will may exist with all its energy. 
 
 There is another result of no small importance flowing 
 from this doctrine, and that is the fact of moral obligation. 
 The will is a power with which man is intrusted, and there 
 is devolving upon him a moral obligation to exert himself 
 for the accomplishment of his proper destiny in the world. 
 Wherever he goes he carries this power, and is ever in 
 the midst of duties and rights. He is the master of his 
 own actions, and hence is morally responsible for those he 
 elects to perform. 
 
 2. Another very interesting portion of Cousin's philoso- 
 phical teaching relates to the reason. In this are bound up 
 the elements of our intellectual life, as those of our active, 
 responsible, and moral life, are in those of the will. The 
 first position that strikes us is the impersonality of reason. 
 It is no part of our free activity. It is absolute in its 
 essence, and one with the eternal and divine reason. It is 
 relatively human, and only as it manifests itself in ^ the 
 
472 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 phenomena of human consciousness. "Eeason/' says 
 Cousin, '' does not modify itself to seek our pleasure. 
 "We do not think as we wish to think. Our understanding 
 is not free. We do not make the laws of our reason, nor 
 is reason our personal property. Ideas are the conceptions 
 of that universal and absolute reason which we do not cause 
 to exist, but which makes its appearance in us, and which 
 is a law to all individuals, of that reason which Fenelon 
 found always at the end of his researches, and from which 
 he in vain endeavored to abstract his thought, without 
 ever being able to separate it from himself; and which, 
 unceasingly returning into all his thoughts, finally drew 
 from him the expression : ' Reason, Reason, art not thou 
 he whom I seek.' " He allows, however, that reason which, 
 in itself, is universal and absolute, and consequently in- 
 fallible, after having entered into human perceptions, and 
 thereby become connected with perceptions of the senses, 
 the passions and the imagination, is no longer infallible. 
 Truth is obtained by first separating it from the fallible 
 reason of man, and then referring it to universal, absolute 
 and infallible reason. 
 
 The necessary convictions of reason which we find in our 
 consciousness cannot be conceived by us as merely relative 
 to our minds or to those of others. They appear as uni- 
 versal truths, truths for all intelligences,^ truths to the 
 divine intelligence equally as to us, but no more than to 
 us ; that is, they are truths in themselves, truths absolute, 
 such as we can neither make, deny, nor modify, by any act 
 of our own will, and which no will in the universe can 
 make, deny or modify. Such truth is the common patri- 
 mony of every rational nature. It is the decision of reason, 
 which, within its own province, possesses an authority 
 little short of divine. 
 
 Reason, according to Cousin, has a two-fold development. 
 The first is primitive, unreflective, instinctive ; the second 
 
 ^Jlistory of Philosophy , ii, 244. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 473 
 
 ulterior, reflective, voluntary. The first is spontaneous, 
 the second, reflective.^ " We do not," says Cousin, " com- 
 mence with seeking ourselves, for this vv^ould imply that 
 we already know that we exist ; but, on a certain day, at 
 a certain hour, or moment solemn in existence, without 
 having sought ourselves, we find ourselves. Thought in 
 its instinctive development, discloses to us that we are. 
 We affirm our existence with profound assurance, with an 
 assurance unmingled with any negation whatsoever. This 
 affirmation, anterior to all reflection, the human race have 
 called inspiration. Inspiration belongs not to us. It is in 
 "all languages distinguished from reflection. It is the per- 
 ception of truth without the intervention of volition and 
 of individual personality." 
 
 " It is," he remarks, ." by observation that within the 
 penetralia of the consciousness I have succeeded in seizing 
 and analyzing the instantaneous, but veritable fact of the 
 spontaneous apperception of truth, an apperception which, 
 not immediately reflecting itself, passes unperceived in the 
 depths of the consciousness; yet is the real basis of that, 
 which later under a logical form, and in the hands of 
 reflection, becomes a necessary conception. All subject- 
 ivity and reflectivity expires in the spontaneity of apper- 
 ception. But the primitive light is so pure, that it is 
 unperceived.^ It is the reflected light which strikes us, 
 but often in doing so, sullies with its faithless lustre the 
 purity of the former. Reason becomes subjective by its 
 connection with the free and voluntary me, which is the 
 type of all subjectivity; but in itself it is impersonal; it 
 does not appertain any more to one than to another; it 
 does not even appertain to humanity as a whole ; its laws 
 emanate only from itself." 
 
 This appeal to a primitive, original, impersonal reason 
 in which every human being floats, almost unconsciously, 
 will find its verification among the facts of consciousness. 
 There are periods of intellectual life in which the mind 
 
 ^History of Philosophy, 164. ^Morell, 651. 
 VI] ' *60 
 
474 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 mingles up no element whatever of its own personality, 
 and yet in which there is an apperception of certain truths 
 which it simply receives. The thought sometimes comes 
 suddenly like a flash of inspiration ; and it is often after laying 
 aside all personal effort, ' after the workings of the intellect 
 in obedience to the will have ceased, and the still conscious 
 soul has laid aside all its personal regalia, and retired within 
 itself, thoughts come to it as if from another sphere, and 
 it almost realizes that in shutting out from itself its own 
 personality, it has entered the gateway of heaven. And 
 if there be such a power of receiving absolute truth with- 
 out any intermixture of personality, it is obvious that the 
 reason viewed as a spontaneous principle, must possess an 
 absolute and all controlling authority. Here repose the 
 foundations of faith, faith in reason ; and these foundations 
 are such that they cannot be shaken. Here, upon this 
 strong ground. Cousin combats that exclusively idealistic 
 subjective philosophy that renders the thinking subject, 
 the ego^ the life and centre of everything that is, and he 
 invokes the lofty authority of this primitive reason as 
 furnishing in itself the evidence of that objective reality 
 which the highest and purest forms of idealism so com- 
 pletely banish from created things. And thus he would 
 establish the objective validity of the external universe on 
 the ground that its evidence can be subjected to no test 
 higher than itself. 
 
 This philosophy differs essentially from the critical, as 
 Kant made all our necessary ideas and a priori conceptions 
 to be simply the results of the subjective laws of our own 
 minds. He made all abstract truth but the personification, 
 or the reflection of our own intellectual constitution. 
 
 But although the primitive, unreflective reason is infal- 
 lible, in all its decisions, yet it is otherwise with that which 
 is ulterior, reflective, voluntary. It then becomes mixed 
 up with motives, passions, volitions, intellection, and thus 
 partakes of the imperfections of that reflective power of 
 which it is made the instrument. " Spontaneity," says 
 Cousin, 'Ogives truth, reflection, produces science. One 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 475 
 
 furnishes a broad and solid basis for the developments of 
 humanity; the other impresses upon these developments 
 their veritable form. But by reflection nothing can be 
 given that V7as not contained in the first affirmation, in the 
 phenomenon to which reflection was applied." 
 
 Reflection, therefore, presupposes an anterior operation 
 of the reason and intelligence. It only adds itself to what 
 was already in the mind. It goes back and distinguishes, 
 analyzes, but does not create the elements to which it 
 applies itself. 
 
 Having arrived at the reflective power involving will, 
 personality, he employs it in analyzing the phenomena of 
 our rational life, with the view of reducing its multiplicity 
 of facts to their primary elements. This had been before 
 attempted, but with little success. Aristotle had framed a 
 table of categories, but had classified from the objective 
 point of view. His arrangement was arbitrary, not corre- 
 sponding to the development of intelligence. The Cartesian 
 philosophy admitted necessary truths, but did not attempt 
 a complete enumeration of them. The sensualistic schools 
 recognized none. The Scottish did, but gave no complete 
 account of them. Kant had done this the most perfectly. 
 His categories were deduced from the subjective stand point, 
 and he gives us a deduction of all those laws or forms of 
 the understanding, by which the material of our knowledge 
 is shaped into distinct ideas. Cousin, bringing to the task 
 all the lights he could obtain from the different schools 
 and systems of philosophy, claims to reduce the whole phe- 
 nomena of our reason to three integrant and inseparable 
 elements, which constitute its true nature, and govern all 
 its manifestations. 
 
 The first element, or category, is substance, which every 
 quality supposes. This is exhibited under various forms, 
 and yet all having a certain relation to each other. These 
 are variously expressed under the terjns : unity, identity, the 
 absolute, the infinite. This is logically the first in order. 
 
 The second is the category of causality, as it embodies 
 the principle of all change, of all the passing phenomena 
 
476 
 
 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 of the universe. As every quality supposes a substance, 
 so every phenomenon supposes a cause. This is chronolo- 
 gically the first in order, as the idea of cause must be first 
 in the order of acquisition as the condition of the idea of 
 substance. This also is exhibited under various forms hav- 
 ing the same kind of relation to each other. They are 
 in direct opposition to the former, and are expressed under 
 the terms plurality, difference, the conditioned, the finite, 
 the phenomenal. 
 
 These two are the fundamental principles of which all 
 others are derivatives. They are given to us contempora- 
 neously in the unity of consciousness. The absolute only 
 finds its manifestation in the phenomenal, while the phe- 
 nomenal can only subsist in the absolute. But here we 
 arrive at a third element, or category, and that is found in 
 the mutual relation which these two categories bear to 
 each other. 
 
 The three together are always in manifestation wherever 
 the human reason is seen in operation. They form the 
 type under which every subject is viewed. They control 
 the operations of an intellectual nature, and govern its 
 whole development. The following table will show the 
 extent of this doctrine of categories : 
 
 In the first category are 
 included : 
 
 In the second category 
 are included : 
 
 
 
 Unity 
 
 Absolute Space 
 Absolute Existence 
 Eternity 
 Infinite 
 
 Multiplicity 
 Bounded Space 
 Dependent Existence 
 Time 
 Finite 
 
 
 6 
 
 1 
 
 Primary Cause 
 Substance 
 
 Secondary Cause 
 Phenomena 
 
 - 1 
 
 1 
 
 Mind 
 
 Beau Ideal 
 The Perfect 
 Contraction 
 Subject 
 
 Thoughts 
 Beau Ideal 
 The Imperfect 
 Expansion 
 Object 
 
 i 
 
 g 
 
 02 
 
 1 
 
 According to Cousin, the human understanding neither 
 begins with unity and the infinite, nor with the finite, the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 477 
 
 contingent and multiple. If it begin witli unity alone it 
 can never reach multiplicity; if it depart from multiplicity 
 alone it can never arrive at unity. If it depart from 
 phenomenon alone it will never arrive at the first cause/ at 
 substance. The two fundamental ideas to which reason 
 is reduced, are two ideas contemporaneous in reason ; two 
 which reason cannot be without, and which moreover ar- 
 rive at the same time. In the order of the acquisition of 
 knowledge the one supposes the other. As we do not 
 begin with the senses and experience alone, and as we do 
 not, any more, begin with abstract thought and intelligence 
 alone ; and as we must unite these two points of departure 
 into one ; so the human mind begins neither with idealism 
 nor with realism ; neither with unity nor multiplicity. It 
 begins, and cannot but begin, with one and the other. 
 The one is the opposite of the other. It is a contrary im- 
 plying its contrary; one is, only on the condition that the 
 other is at the same time. This is their relation in the 
 order of the acquisition of our knowledges. But it is the 
 relation of these two ideas in the mind, and not their rela- 
 tion in themselves. Thus all perceptible existence, all 
 reality, consists in the unity of these two elements. They 
 must coexist, that, from their existence, there may result 
 reality. The fundamental vice of the schools consists in 
 placing unity on one side and multiplicity on the other ; 
 and establishing such an opposition between them, that all 
 passage from one to the other seems impossible. 
 
 The method of solution adopted by Cousin is that im- 
 mensity, eternity, infinity, substance, being in itself, the 
 absolute, each is also a cause ; not a relative, contingent, 
 and finite cause, but an absolute cause, and unity or sub- 
 stance, being an absolute cause,cannot but pass into act, can- 
 not but develop itself. If being in itself is an absolute cause, 
 creation is not only possible, it is necessary, and the world 
 cannot but be. Thus unity in itself, as absolute cause, 
 
 ^History of PMlosox>hy, 114. 
 
478 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 contains the power of becoming variety and difference. 
 And as soon as this power is put forth, it is no longer the 
 primitive unity ; it is a unity rich with its own fruits, and 
 in it, multiplicity, variety, and life meet together. 
 
 3. The third division of psychology relates to the pheno- 
 mena of sensation. By sensation he means that faculty 
 which acquaints us with the facts and changes of the out- 
 ward world. Whatever knowledge we have of external 
 nature arises from internal impressions made by it upon the 
 mind through the medium of sensation. But the ques- 
 tion arises what is it that creates the impressions ? Is it a 
 hard, impenetrable, and passive material, composed origin- 
 ally of atoms ; or is it powers, forces, causes, something 
 active and productive of impulse ? The common sense of 
 mankind decides for the former, but science deals in statics 
 and dynamics, regards forces, and looks upon all material 
 phenomena as the productions of certain powers acting 
 with different intensities and in different directions. Cou- 
 sin adopts the latter explanation, inquiring what natural 
 philosopher, since Euler, seeks after anything beyond forces 
 and laws? And if modern science occupies itself only 
 with forces and laws, I conclude, he says, rigorously from 
 hence, that natural philosophy, whatever it may know, or 
 not know, is by no means materialistic ;^ that it became 
 spiritualistic, the very day it rejected all other methods, 
 except observation and induction, which can lead us to 
 nothing but forces and laws. Laws he defines to be the 
 necessary relations which are derived from the nature of 
 things.^ 
 
 Cousin is, therefore, a species of idealist, but he does not 
 lose sight of the fundamental idea of nature. • He denies its 
 passive, inert, atomic character. He views it entirely 
 under the type of power or cause, and thus makes it, in a 
 manner, homogeneous with mind; but it is mind in its 
 lower and as yet unconscious state of development. 
 
 Morell, 653. "" History of PMlosopTiy, 103. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 479 
 
 The second subject of attention to which his method is 
 directed is : 
 
 I. Ontology, and this is viewed by philosophers in three 
 different lights : 
 
 1. The German school regards it as the starting point 
 of all intellectual science. It constructs the entire uni- 
 verse by adding one attribute after another to being which 
 it assumes to be originally general and abstract. Having 
 determined the essence of things it then expands the law 
 by which it rises through all the multiplicity of its changes 
 and gradations to its most fully developed character. 
 
 2. The Scottish school inderdicts ontological science as 
 being beyond the reach of our faculties.^ It confines itself 
 to psychology, the analysis and classification of our mental 
 phenomena. It accepts as true in regard to ourselves what- 
 ever the universal testimony of the human faculties attests ; 
 but leaves, without any attempted explanation, the mys- 
 teries of absolute existence. 
 
 3. The eclectic school of Cousin seeks to find a middle 
 course, which shall combine the truths of both without the 
 errors of either. His commencement is with the Scottish 
 school, analyzing the facts of our conscious existence, but 
 instead of finding in psychology an ultimate limit, he affirms 
 the possibility of finding a solid passage from the subjective 
 world to the objective, from the phenomenal to the real. 
 He finds in the impersonality of reason, and in the spon- 
 taneity of its action and reception of truth, the bridge that 
 spans the abyss intervening between the subjective- and 
 objective worlds. 
 
 In the view of Cousin the fundamental fact of conscious- 
 ness is a complex phenomenon composed of three terms, 
 which he denominates the me, the not me, and the relation 
 between the two. " When I perceive myself," says he, " I 
 distinguish myself from all which is not me ; and in distin- 
 guishing myself from all that is 7iot me, I do two things : 
 
 'MoreU,Q54:. 
 
480 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 First. I affirm my own existence ; Secondly, I also affirm 
 the existence of that from which I distinguish myself. 
 Man, then, does not discover his own existence, without 
 discovering at the same time, the existence of some other 
 thing, which surrounds and therefore limits him.^ The me 
 is, therefore, finite ; and it is only, inasmuch as it is limited 
 and finite, that it is me. But if the exterior world bounds 
 .the me, and opposes to it a kind of obstacle in every direc- 
 tion, so the me acts upon the world, modifies it, opposes 
 itself to its action, and impresses its own action upon it to 
 a certain degree ; and this degree, however feeble, becomes 
 to the world a bound, a limit. Thus the world, which in 
 its opposition to the me, is the limit of the me, or is the not 
 me, is in its turn opposed, modified, limited by the me ; 
 which, while it is obliged to acknowledge itself limited, 
 bounded and finite, yet also impresses the character of 
 bounded, limited and finite, upon the exterior world, the 
 not me, from which it is distinguished. It is in this mutual 
 opposition that we lay hold upon ourselves ; this opposition 
 is permanent in the consciousness of man ; it endures 
 while there is any consciousness. But this opposition 
 resolves itself into one single notion, that of the finite. 
 The me, which we are, is finite ; the not me, which limits 
 and is limited by the me, is also finite. We are, therefore, 
 still in the sphere of the finite. 
 
 But while the consciousness apprehends the me as finite, 
 in its opposition to the not me, which is also finite, it refers 
 both this me and this not me, which are finite, bounded, 
 relative, contingent, to a superior, absolute, and necessary 
 unity, which contains and explains them, and which has all 
 the characteristics that are in opposition to those which the 
 me finds in itself, and in that not me which is analogous to 
 it. This unity is absolute, whilst the me and the not me are 
 relative. This unity is a substance, whilst the me and the 
 not me are in themselves simple phenomena. 
 
 ' History of PMlosopliy, 149, 150. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 481 
 
 "But this superior unity is not a substance only, it is also 
 a cause. Indeed the me only apprehends itself in its acts, 
 as a cause which acts upon the exterior world ; and the ex- 
 terior world comes within the knowledge of theme, only by 
 the impressions it produces, by the sensations which the 
 me experiences, which it does not cause and cannot destroy, 
 and which it, therefore, cannot refer to itself, and conse- 
 quently refers to something foreign to itself as a cause. 
 This foreign cause is the world ; and as it is a finite cause, 
 and as the me is also a finite cause, therefore that unity, 
 that substance, which comprehends both the me and the 
 not me, being also a cause, must consequently be, in its na- 
 ture, an infinite cause. Thus we refer both this world and 
 ourselves to something better, beyond which it is impossi- 
 ble for us to conceive anything, of existence, of duration, 
 of power, and of wisdom." 
 
 In this manner Cousin would apprehend the infinite, the 
 eternal God; but it would seem to follow from this that 
 God must comprehend the universe in himself, and that 
 all finite existence is but the emanation from his infinite 
 existence. 
 
 He endeavors, however, to avoid exhibiting the deity in 
 a pantheistic light,^ and he asserts that " the God of con- 
 sciousness is not an abstract God, a solitary sovereign, ban- 
 ished beyond creation upon the throne of a silent eternity 
 and an absolute existence, which resembles existence in no 
 respect whatever ; he is a God at once true and real, at once 
 substance and cause, always substance and always cause; 
 being substance only inasmuch as he is cause, and being 
 cause only inasmuch substance ; that is to say being abso- 
 lute cause, one and many, eternity and time, essence and 
 life, end and middle, at the summit of existence, and at its 
 base, infinite and finite together ; in a word, a trinity, being 
 at the same time God, nature, and humanity." 
 
 'Mor6U,Q5n. 
 
 VI] 61 
 
482 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 He claims that the human mind can comprehend the 
 absolute, the unconditioned. In reference to this there 
 have been four different opinions among philosophers. 
 
 1. The absolute is altogether inconceivable. This we 
 have seen is the doctrine of the Scottish school as ex- 
 pounded by Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 2. The absolute, though not an object of real knowledge, 
 yet exists subjectively within our consciousness as a regu- 
 lative principle. This was the opinion of Kant. 
 
 3. The absolute cannot be comprehended in conscious- 
 ness and reflection ; but it can be gazed upon by a higher 
 faculty, that of intellectual intuition. This was the opinion 
 of Schelling. 
 
 4. The absolute can be grasped by reason, and brought 
 within the compass of our real consciousness. This was 
 the opinion of Cousin. He maintained that God is not 
 absolutely incomprehensible, because being the cause of the 
 universe he passes into it, and is reflected in it, a& the cause 
 is in the effect, and therefore we recognize him. Again 
 all nations have petitioned him, since the first day of the 
 intellectual life of humanity. But God is not absolutely 
 comprehensible. " He is," says Cousin, "both invisible 
 and present, revealed and withdrawn in himself, in the 
 world and out of the world, so familiar and intimate with 
 his creatures, that we see him by opening our eyes, that we 
 feel him in feeling our hearts beat, and at the same time in- 
 accessible in his impenetrable majesty, mingled with every 
 thing and separated from everything; manifesting him- 
 self in universal life and causing scarcely an ephemeral 
 shadow of his eternal essence to appear there, communicat- 
 ing himself without cessation, and remaining incommuni- 
 cable; at once the living God, and the God concealed." 
 He maintains that God was perfectly free to create or not to 
 create ; but that he has created because he has found creation 
 to be more in conformity with his wisdom and his goodness. 
 
 These are the main eclectic doctrines as expounded by 
 Cousin. It will be seen that one of the peculiarities of this 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 483 
 
 system consists not merely in making the absolute and 
 infinite a matter of positive cognition, but also in holding 
 the twofold distinction of reason into spontaneous and 
 reflective, and in making the former as impersonal, and, 
 therefore, not subjective, the faculty of immediately know- 
 ing the absolute and infinite. The spontaneous reason 
 apprehends the absolute and infinite by an act of positive 
 knowledge, it reveals them in consciousness, but without 
 thereby making them merely subjective.^ 
 
 There is much in this system that is worthy of careful 
 study by the student of philosophy. It has been objected 
 to it that in rendering the thoughts that flow in from the 
 spontaneous, impersonal reason infallible, it enables it to 
 usurp the place of inspiration, rendering the immediate 
 reception of divine light nothing more than the natural play 
 of the spontaneous reason, nothing more than has been 
 witnessed and will be again in men of great genius. 
 
 Another objection made against it is that it is a system 
 of pantheism in that its deity, although possessing a con- 
 scious personality, yet still is one which contains in itself 
 the infinite personality and consciousness of every subordi- 
 nate mind. That such a theory is inconsistent with moral 
 evil, and with human liberty. But this is met by Cousin 
 with a direct denial. Pantheism is certainly not expressed 
 anywhere in his writings, but the reverse. It is also denied 
 that it is a necessary consequence from his principles. That 
 he neither confounds the infinite with the finite, thus mak- 
 ing God nothing but the collective whole of the universe ; 
 nor the finite with the infinite, thus denying the substan- 
 tial existence of the finite, and making the infinite one the 
 only being. There is, perhaps, some difficulty in steering 
 entirely clear of these objections, although the fuller and 
 more complete development of the system may remove 
 many that now appear to be objectional features. 
 
 ^ History of Philosophy, ii, 256, 357. 
 
484 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Positive System of Philosophy — Comie. 
 
 Auguste Comte was born in 1797, and has recently de- 
 ceased. He is the author of the positive system of philo- 
 sophy, the last link in the chain of speculative thought. 
 
 This system begins by defining philosophy, which 
 according to it,^ is the explanation of the phenomena of the 
 universe. Any one who studies the system, however, would 
 recognize as a better definition, an inquiry into the succes- 
 sion of these phenomena. It is in this that the essence of 
 this philosophy consists. It really seeks no explanation 
 any further than what is involved in such succession. It 
 makes no appeal to any power, agency, or even principle, 
 that can render an explanation in any degree intelligible. 
 It utterly exiles God from creation. It banishes from it 
 every metaphysical creation, or entity, that can come under 
 the denomination of cause. It recognizes no causes 
 whether final, physical or immediate. Although it nomi- 
 nally admits laws, yet it is merely nominal, and as a kind 
 of concession to the ignorance and prejudice of the age. 
 It does not, and cannot consistently with itself, really 
 admit them. It says itself " the conception implied in 
 laws of nature is the last and most refined expression 
 of the metaphysical stage of speculation.^ In it law re- 
 places the ancient principle. " In it law is the delicate 
 abstract entity superadded to the phenomena." It there- 
 fore objects to the use of the term law unless it can be 
 defined to be the mere relation of coexistence and suc- 
 cession." It proposes to substitute methods in the place 
 of laws,^ understanding by method, a path leading onwards, 
 a way of transit. The methods^of nature would, therefore, 
 suit it much better, as they would express the paths along 
 which the activities of nature traveled to phenomena. If 
 cause and law are banished from the system, surely a first 
 cause and a lawgiver must be the merest supernumeraries. 
 
 ^ Leices's Comte, IS. "^ Idem, 52. ^ Idem, 55. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 485 
 
 The method by which the positive philosophy proposes 
 to arrive at scientific results does not difler essentially from 
 the Baconian. It teaches that " a law of nature can only 
 be discovered by induction or deduction.^ Often, however, 
 neither method is of itself sufficient without our previously 
 making temporary suppositions regarding some of the very 
 facts of which we are in search." The condition upon 
 which progress in science depends may be thus stated : 
 *'that we must never imagine any hypotheses which are 
 not by nature susceptible of a positive verification sooner or 
 later, and which shall have exactly that degree of precision 
 ascertainable in the study of the corresponding phenomena. 
 In other words, truly philosophical hypotheses must always 
 present the character of simple anticipations of what ex- 
 perience and reasoning are capable of at once discovering 
 when the circumstances of the problem are more favorable." 
 Thus I^ewton's great discovery was at first only an hypo- 
 thesis. It became a theory after verification. Kepler made 
 nineteen hypotheses respecting the form of the planetary 
 orbits, and abandoned them, one by one, till he settled on 
 the elliptical form, which, on verification, proved correct, 
 and then was no longer an hypotheses. 
 
 But this philosophy limits the employment of hypotheses 
 to things which are accessible to observation and to reason. 
 It asserts that all scientific! inquiries are restricted to the 
 analysis of phenomena, to discover their laws, and in no 
 sense to discover their causes, either essential or final. 
 That every hypothesis which transcends the limit of 
 positive science leads to endless discussion without any 
 chance of agreement. 
 
 Comte distinguishes hypotheses into two classes. The 
 one simply refers to the laws of the phenomena. The 
 other relates to the determination of the general agents 
 supposed to produce the difterent kinds of phenomena. 
 He claims the first can only be legitimately employed. In 
 
 ^Lewes' 8 Comte, 105. 
 
486 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 his philosophy there are no agents producing different 
 kinds of phenomena; and the assumption of any such 
 instead of explaining phenomena only has the effect of 
 increasing the number of things requiring explanation ; 
 because they, in their turn, demand explanation as much 
 as the phenomena they are introduced to explain. 
 
 The positive philosophy, according to Comte, rests upon 
 three initial conceptions : ^ 
 
 1. That all the sciences, whether physical, moral, or 
 social, are all branches of one science, and are therefore to 
 be investigated on one and the same method. 
 
 2. The fundamental law of human development, or 
 evolution, which he thus states : " There are but three 
 phases of intellectual evolution, for the individual as well 
 as for the mass, the theological, the metaphysical and the 
 positive.'' 
 
 3. The classification of the sciences, commencing with 
 the study of the simplest phenomena, and proceeding suc- 
 cessively to the most complex and particular, arranging 
 them according to their dependence on each other. 
 
 The first and third of these conceptions may be very well 
 considered together, as really constituting but one. 
 
 The second presents a curious theory, which, although as 
 such, may not be necessary to enter into the constitution 
 of positivism, yet the absolute annihilation of everything 
 theological or metaphysical must take place before positiv- 
 ism can be possible. 
 
 In the first, or theological phase, the mind not only seeks 
 after causes, but also strives to attain the essences of things 
 as well as the how and why of their operation. It looks 
 to the supernatual, and regards the pleasure or displeasure 
 of some god as the foundation of unusual phenomena. 
 
 In the metaphysical phase there is a marked progress 
 from the theological. The mind here dispenses with all 
 supernatural agents. It has passed beyond the necessity of 
 
 ^Leices's Comte, 9, 10, 11. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 487 
 
 having gods to worship and to influence phenomena, and 
 substitutes in their place abstract forces, causes, or entities 
 supposed to inhere in various substances, and to be capable 
 of engendering phenomena. 
 
 In the third, or positive phase, the mind has become 
 convinced of the futility of all inquiry into both essences 
 and causes, and restricts itself to the observation and classi- 
 fication of phenomena, and to the discovery of the invariable 
 relations of succession and similitude which things bear 
 to each other, or to sum it up to the discovery of the laws 
 of phenomena. 
 
 The theological phase, according to Comte, is the 
 primitive spontaneous exercise of the speculative faculty 
 proceeding from the known to the unknown. The meta- 
 physical, the more matured effort of reason, to explain 
 things. But the reasoning is without proofs, and upon 
 subjects transcending human capacity. The positive ex- 
 plains phenomena by ascertained laws, which are not only 
 shown to be demonstrable to reason but accordant with 
 fact. It holds it to be idle, to penetrate beyond the laws 
 which regulate phenomena. 
 
 The theological stage marks the infancy of man, and 
 also the earlier periods of the race. I say earlier periods, 
 for it is difficult to conceive how in accordance with this 
 system the race can have an infancy. It regards nature 
 as the theatre upon which the wills and caprices of superior 
 powers are constantly playing their various parts. Men, 
 having then had less experience, are startled at unusual oc- 
 currences, and entertain conceptions of gods in order to ex- 
 plain them. An eclipse, for instance, was owing to a monster 
 swallowing up the sun. The prayers and sacrifices of 
 man may, by conciliating some god, bring down showers 
 of rain upon the parched earth. 
 
 This stage, however, has a progress, and three successive 
 stages that clearly mark it.^ The earliest and lowest period 
 
 Leioes's Comte, 373. 
 
488 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 is that of fetichism. This regards all exterior bodies as ani- 
 mated with a life essentially analogous to our own. In 
 this stage there are no such thing as laws. Eveiy pheno- 
 mena depends upon the arbitrary will of the correspond- 
 ing fetiche. 
 
 The next advance brings us to simple polytheism. In the 
 passage from one to the other we recognize an effort at 
 generalization. As each fetiche was endowed with a ma- 
 terial individuality, it was impossible for on^ to exist and 
 be common to various bodies. In polytheism it became 
 necessary to assimilate the corresponding fetiches, and 
 finally to reduce them to the principal amongst them, who 
 from that time was raised to the rank of a god. He thus 
 became an ideal and invisible agent, and indeterminable 
 as to space. This passage to polytheism indicates the 
 preponderance of general over individual ideas. 
 
 Monotheism was simply a further advance, a limitation 
 to one god of the same powers that had formerly been 
 exercised by several. 
 
 In all these different theological stages, the mind is ever 
 looking beyond the fact for its explanation, and this same 
 tendency to imagine an agency superadded to the pheno- 
 mena is also visible in the metaphysical period. 
 
 This period, according to Comte, yet lingers, and still 
 continues to exercise a strong influence upon the minds of 
 men. The idea of invariableness is admitted, but for the 
 purpose of explainiug it some entity or principle is ima- 
 gined. Thus there is still the vis inerti8e,the overcoming, in 
 natural philosophy; the affinities in chemistry; and the 
 animating principle in animals and plants. The existence 
 of organic agents is assumed to produce and regulate vital 
 phenomena. So also that of intelligent agents. 
 
 In the positive stage, our province is to study the laws of 
 nature, to trace her processes, and to sit down in contented 
 ignorance of all transcendent subjects. To accept nature 
 as she presents herself never seeking beyond the facts for 
 fantastic entities. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 489 
 
 Comte illustrates the fundamental law of evolution by 
 analogies derived from the human organism. One of the 
 laws of embryology he states to be that " every function is 
 successively by two, and sometimes more, organs; of which 
 one is primitive, transitory, provisional ; the other second- 
 ary, definitive, permanent." ^ 
 
 Between the two are the relations of function, develop- 
 ment, and duration. The provisional organ first supplies 
 the place of the permanent one, then coexists with it, and 
 finally either ceases or performs incompletely. Instances: 
 the milk teeth and down in the human species ; the tails of 
 tadpoles ; the optic lobes of the brain, the thymus gland, etc. 
 So also the three forms of circulation that succeed each 
 other in the embryonic development,^ the first prior to the 
 complete formation of organs or exercise of their functions, 
 the second known as the foetal circulation, and the third 
 after the lungs have entered upon their function ; each 
 characterized by the creation of new vascular systems, and 
 the decay of those that preceded them. 
 
 The result of all, which are thus summed up : 
 
 1. " Everything which is primitive is only provisional, 
 at least in the higher animals ; and everything that is per- 
 manent has only been established secondarily, and some- 
 times tertiarily." 
 
 2. " That, consequently, the embryo of the higher 
 animals successively renews its organs and its characteris- 
 tics, through a series of metamorphoses which give it 
 permanent conditions, not only diflferent, but even directly 
 contrary to those which it had primitively." The claim is 
 that the three phases, theological, metaphysical, and posi- 
 tive, through which humanity necessarily passes in its 
 growth, represent the primitive, transitory, and permanent 
 phases of the organism, and that the theological and meta- 
 physical phases are provisional organs in the development 
 of humanity. 
 
 ^ Lewes' s Comte, 33. "^ Idem, 34. 
 VI] 62 
 
490 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Another argument for tlie trutli of his system, Comte 
 derives from the construction or necessity of the human 
 mind. Although all knowledge must be founded on 
 observation of facts, yet in order to observe some sort of 
 theory is necessary, as mere isolated observation undirected 
 by any object in view, and unguided by any theory can 
 never be of any value. The mind is, therefore, forced to 
 theorize. A theory is necessary to observation, and a cor- 
 rect theory to correct observation.^ The first mental act, 
 therefore, is theorizing, devising adequate causes. The 
 cause which its activity compels it to assume it seeks out 
 of nature, in the supernatural, theological region. As man 
 is conscious of self-willing, so he concludes that everything 
 else also wills, and hence fetichism. 
 
 Then comes the m^aphysical, which is the transition 
 stage, as the theological and the positive are so far removed 
 from each other as to require intermediate notions to 
 bridge over the chasm. " In substituting an entity insepa- 
 rable from phenomena for a supernatural agent, through 
 whose will these phenomena were produced, the mind 
 became habituated to consider only the phenomena them- 
 selves." The metaphysical entities, by gradually fading 
 away, became finally lost in the mere abstract names of the 
 phenomena. This introduced the positive stage, in which 
 the mind having ceased to interpose either supernatural 
 agents or metaphysical entities between the phenomena 
 and their production, attended solely to the phenomena 
 themselves. These it reduced to laws, or rather, express- 
 ing it according to Comte's idea of a law, arranged them 
 according to their invariable relations of similitude and 
 succession. 
 
 As to the classification of the sciences, the problem he 
 desired to solve was : " how to arrange the sciences that 
 the classification may itself be the expression of the most 
 general fact apparent on a profound investigation of the 
 
 ^ Lewes' 8 Comte, 36, 37. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 491 
 
 objects which this classification includes." And the solu- 
 tion lies in this *'the dependence of the sciences can only 
 result from that of the corresponding phenomena." 
 
 The positive philosophy is divided into five fundamental 
 sciences, whose succession is determined by a necessary 
 and invariable subordination, based upon the simple but 
 profound comparison of the corresponding phenomena. 
 These are : 1. Mathematics, including astronomy. 2. 
 Physics. 3. Chemistry. 4. Physiology. 5. Sociology. It 
 is in the order thus laid down, that this philosophy claims 
 that the different theories held by mankind reached suc- 
 cessively,^ first, the theological state, next, the metaphysical 
 state, and lastly the positive state. 
 
 Mathematics is the science of magnitude, the aim always 
 being to determine one magnitude from another, by means 
 of the exact relations which exist between them. This 
 science is the perfect exponent of the positive philosophy. 
 It is wholly within the fold of positivism, and as in the law 
 of evolution. Comte denies that each of the three periods 
 had a separate and exclusive existence,^ maintaining on 
 the contrary, that the theological, metaphysical, and posi- 
 tive elements have always coexisted, it is very difficult to 
 conceive what there is in the mathematics that could ever 
 have belonged either to the theological or the metaphysical. 
 The positive philosophy itself, so far as its essential princi- 
 ple is concerned, appears to be little more than applying 
 principles derived from the mathematics to all the other 
 sciences. To this position Comte himself gives direet 
 countenance by asserting, that " science is essentially 
 destined to dispense with all direct observation,^ by 
 allowing us to deduce the greatest possible number of 
 results from the smallest possible number of immediate 
 data." And again that " mathematical analysis is the 
 true and rational basis of the complete system of our 
 positive knowledge."^ 
 
 Lewes' s Comte, 47. ^ Idem, 51. ^ Idem, 60. "^ Idem, 63. 
 
492 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Astronomy *' has for its object the discovery of the laws 
 of the geometrical and mechanical phenomena presented 
 to us by the heavenly bodies." In it he finds the three ten- 
 dencies : theological, metaphysical, and positive ; the first 
 interpreting all phenomena according to human analogies ; 
 the second, arguing instead of observing ; and the third, 
 limiting inquiry to accessible relations and rejecting as idle 
 all speculation which transcends our means. He brings to 
 view here an important philosophical law, viz : " That in 
 proportion as the phenomena to be studied become more 
 complex,^ they are, from their nature, susceptible of more 
 extended and more varied means of exploration." Or that 
 the very complexity of the phenomena implies a greater 
 variety of sources through which they can be investigated. 
 
 He also takes occasion to analyze the art of observing 
 into three different processes : 
 
 1. Observation proper, viz : the direct examination of 
 the phenomenon as naturally presented. 
 
 2. Experiment, contemplating the phenomena modified 
 by circumstances artificially created by us, with the view 
 to a more perfect exploration.^ 
 
 3. Comparison, the gradual consideration of a series of 
 analogous cases in which the phenomena become more and 
 more simplified. 
 
 Of these, astronomy is limited to the first, while the 
 science of organized bodies, embracing phenomena the 
 most difficult of access, permits the union of all three of 
 the processes. Of the different fundamental sciences this 
 is the only one which Compte deems really and finally 
 purged of all theological or metaphysical considerations. 
 
 Physics are contradistinguished from chemistry by the 
 fact that the phenomena considered in the former refer to 
 the masses, and in the latter to the molecules. The ulti- 
 mate object of the former is to foresee, as exactly as possible, 
 all the phenomena which may be presented by a body 
 
 ^ Lewes' s Comte. 79. ^ Idem, 79. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 493 
 
 placed in any given circumstances, excluding always those 
 which could alter its nature. 
 
 "While astronomy only studies bodies in reference to their 
 forms and movements, in physics they are accessible to all 
 our senses, the general conditions characterizing their 
 actual existence are considered, and they are studied under 
 a great number of different and mutually complicated re- 
 lations. 
 
 Physics admit of the application both of experiment and 
 mathematics in their investigation. They may be said to 
 have created the art of experiment. In regard to mathe- 
 matics their application ought only to take place when 
 assurance has been obtained of the reality of the physical 
 facts from which the mathematical deductions are to be 
 made. It is in physics that, for the last few centuries, the 
 struggle of the positive spirit with the metaphysical has 
 been going on. In them natural phenomena first begin to 
 be really modifiable by human intervention. The twa 
 things to be had in view are : 
 
 " 1. The exact and rational prevision of phenomena. 
 
 " 2. The possibility of modifying them, so as to promote 
 our own ends and advantages." 
 
 By following out these two general processes, Comte 
 proposes to subvert the theological conception which sub- 
 jects all phenomena to supernatual volition,^ and hence 
 renders them eminently and irregularly variable. The 
 speculative perfection of a science is to be principally mea- 
 sured by these two distinct but correlative properties, co- 
 ordination, and power of prevision, the latter being the 
 most decisive criterion, as it is the principal object of every 
 science. 
 
 Chemistry is less advanced in its progress and more want- 
 ing in positivism than physics. This is owing : 1. To its 
 greater complexity. 2. To the fact that when the phe- 
 nomena are intense in action they bear a striking resem- 
 
 Leioes's Gomte, 102. 
 
494 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 blance to tliose of life. It occupies a position between 
 physics and physiology, and is distinguished from each by 
 the general character of its phenomena. Chemical action 
 is something more than physical, and less than vital. It is 
 the character of chemical activity to produce an essential 
 and permanent change in the very composition of the parti- 
 cles, irrespective of alterations in structure and state of 
 aggregation. As to chemical phenomena it is noticeable : 
 
 1. That every substance is susceptible of chemical action, 
 and hence its phenomena are general, while physiological 
 belong only to organized bodies. 
 
 2. In order to their production, it is necessary that the 
 antagonistic particles be brought into immediate contact. 
 
 Under all these considerations he defines chemistry^ " as 
 having for its general object the study of the laws of those 
 phenomena of composition and decomposition which result 
 from the mutual molecular and specific action of different 
 substances, natural or artificial.^' The problem presented 
 by chemistry is thus well stated : 
 
 " Given, the chemical properties of certain substances, 
 simple or compound, placed in chemical relation, under 
 well defined circumstances, to determine exactly in what 
 their action will consist, and what will be the principal pro- 
 perties of the new products." 
 
 Compounds present two general modes of classification : 
 
 1st. The simplicity, or greater or less degree of composi- 
 tion of the primary combinations. 
 
 2d. The number of the combined elements. The higher 
 the order of composition of substances, the more difficult 
 does chemical action between them become. Chemistry 
 has this for its ultimate object. " Given the property of all 
 simple substances, to find those of all the compounds which 
 they can form." It illustrates the law previously stated 
 " that the complexity of the sciences, and their means of 
 exploration, increase together." 
 
 ^ Lewes' s Gomte, 116. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 495 
 
 Chemistry, unlike astronomy, and even physics, levies its 
 contribution on all the senses. Its investigations also enjoy 
 the advantage of a verification by means of the double pro- 
 cess of analysis and synthesis. 
 
 Comte draws another distinction between physics and 
 chemistry. In the first we study the laws of motion com- 
 municated ; in the last, the laws of motion excited. In the 
 first, we see a force communicated from one body to an- 
 other. In the last, a force combining with another force to 
 excite a change in the phenomena of both, the result of 
 which is unlike either. 
 
 Comte affirms that chemistry is more undeveloped, 
 more within the empire of the metaphysical stage than 
 physics. He cites the doctrine of affinities, which, although 
 now rapidly losing its hold, is nevertheless clearly within 
 the metaphysical domain. Another example of metaphy- 
 sical chemistry is also found in the notion of a catalytic 
 force, this being a convenient form for expressing all that 
 we do not comprehend. In all these, and especially in the 
 doctrine of affinities, he perceives only an attempt to con- 
 ceive the hidden nature of chemical phenomena which he 
 considers as utterly inaccessible. 
 
 But if chemistry from increase of complexity, is defec- 
 tive in one of the attributes tending to its emancipation from 
 theology and metaphysics, viz : prevision of phenomena, 
 he consoles himself that there is a compensation furnished 
 in another fact, viz : the power of modifying them at our 
 pleasure ; inasmuch as neither can coexist with the idea of 
 a government by providential volitions. 
 
 He divides organic chemistry into two different parts : ^ 
 
 1. That which relates to chemistry properly so called. 
 
 2. That which relates to physiology. 
 
 His rule for distinguishing between the two is : *^ to ex- 
 amine whether the proposed problem can be solved by the 
 application of chemical principles alone, without the aid of 
 
 Leioes's Comte, 133. 
 
496 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 any consideration of physiological action whatever." The 
 same elements are common both to organic and inorganic 
 bodies, the differences in the phenomena are only owing to 
 differences in the arrangement of these elements. From 
 the dawn of organic life upwards, we perceive an ascend- 
 ing complexity,^ owing primarily to the greater multiples 
 of the elementary equivalents. Between the inorganic and 
 the organic there is mainly a difference of combination, an 
 increasing complexity in the lines of direction of force. 
 Comte denies all creation in the organic kingdom. He 
 consigns to oblivion al^l vital forces as belonging to the 
 metaphysical era.^ He denies the existence of any new 
 force in organic action, but explains such action, by the 
 complication of the phenomena, owing to the varieties in 
 direction of the one unknown force, calling it a new evolu- 
 tion, not a new creation. In passing from inorganic to 
 organic life he evolves the following laws : 
 
 Law I. " The elements which compose organic substances 
 are the same as those which compose inorganic substances ; 
 but in the organic they occur as higher multiples." This 
 has before been mentioned. 
 
 Law H. " The presence of higher multiples is accom- 
 panied by an indefinite composition in lieu of a definite 
 composition, and by a characteristic immediate synthesis 
 of the elements." 
 
 Before proceeding to the third stage, or final law, he pro- 
 poses to reject altogether the classification of matter as 
 organic and inorganic, and as a substitute for it, to consider 
 matter under three aspects, viz : Ist. E"onorganized, which 
 he terms the anorganic, such as water, salts, minerals, etc. 
 2d. Organizable, partly organized, which he calls meror- 
 ganic, being matter in an intermediate state, either want- 
 ing some addition, to become organized, or having lost 
 some of the elements it had when organized, as the blas- 
 tema from which cells are made. 3d. Organized, called 
 
 ^ Leioes's Comte, 135. ^ Idem, 139. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 497 
 
 teleorganic, in which the cell, fully equipped, can and does, 
 perform its function. The passage from the inorganic to 
 the organic is not direct, but the anorganic passes into the 
 merorganic, and that into the organic. Crystallization 
 approaches the phase termed organic, because we there first 
 meet with definite constituent forms,^ the crystal being con- 
 ditioned upon these forms. He would define crystals to 
 be arrested life. 
 
 He disposes of the proximate principles of the organism 
 into three classes : 
 
 1. Those of mineral origin which are crystallizable, and 
 leave the organism such as they entered it. 
 
 2. Those which are crystallizable, formed in the organ- 
 ism, and leaving it in excremental products, such as they 
 were at their formation. 
 
 3. Those which are coagulable but not crystallizable, 
 formed in the organism with the aid of materials, for which 
 the first class serve as a vehicle, and decomposed in the 
 place of their formation, thus furnishing the materials for 
 the principles of the second class. These are the only true 
 organic principles. 
 
 The form, which being universal,^ is indispensable to all 
 organic life, is the cell. This is the lowest type. The 
 second stage is an association of cells. The third a trans- 
 formation of those cells into a tissue. We now come to 
 
 Law ni. " Merorganic substances become teleorganic 
 by the assumption of a spherical form." 
 
 He learns from Dr. Carpenter that " in animals as in 
 plants all the parts in which active vital changes are tak- 
 ing place essentially consist of cells," ^ and considers that 
 sufficient evidence exists to show that the spherical form is 
 a constituent element of organic life. He denies all possi- 
 bility of knowing the cause which determines these higher 
 multiples to assume the spherical form. He regards life 
 as an evolution, and not a separate creation. 
 
 ^ Lewes' s Comte, 153. ^ Idem, 155. ^ Idem, 158. 
 VI] 63 
 
498 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION, 
 
 In regard to the science of life, biology, he gives several 
 definitions that have been proposed of life. As that : 
 
 " Life is the sum of the functions by which death is re- 
 sisted." — Bichat. 
 
 Life is the result of organization, metaphysical. 
 
 " Life is the principle of individuation," or the power 
 within which combines many qualities into one individual 
 thing. And finally the one adopted by him : 
 
 " Life -is the twofold internal movement of composition 
 and decomposition, at once general and continuous." In 
 the immense majority of organized beings, he says, animal 
 life is but a supplement, an additional series of phenomena, 
 superposed on the fundamental organic life. He asserts 
 that the earliest forms of life are vegetative, and that to 
 them the study of animal life must be subordinate, and 
 that this results from the greater generality of vegetative 
 life, and also from the fact that the vegetative life is 
 continuous, whereas the functions of animal life are inter- 
 mittent. 
 
 The idea of life presupposes the constant correlation of 
 two indispensable elements, the organism and a medium, 
 or the surrounding circumstances essential to its existence. 
 Hence he deduces the formula of the twofold biological 
 problem, given the organ or the organic modification, to 
 find the function or the act, and reciprocally. 
 
 He divides all life into two grand divisions, vegetative and 
 animal, or organic life and relative life. The first vital act 
 is assimilation, and if the act of reproduction be superadded, 
 it gives the whole life of the cell, which is the simplest of 
 all organisms. 
 
 As the organs are made up of tissues, he assumes that 
 we must commence with their study, and thence proceed 
 to the analysis of the laws of their combination into organs, 
 and finally, to the consideration of the grouping of those 
 organs into systems. Of these tissues the cellular is the 
 primary and essential basis of every organism, and the only 
 one universally present. It remains the sole basis of the 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 499 
 
 vegetable world, and also of the lowest form of the animal. 
 This being the primordial tissue, its modification produces 
 others, which are more widely separated from the primary 
 one just in proportion as their first appearance takes place 
 in the more special and the more complex organisms. The 
 nervous, for instance, is the farthest removed,^ being absent 
 from the vegetable and lower animal organisms, and found 
 only in the higher. The great object of philosophical 
 anatomy, he claims to be, " to reduce all the tissues to one 
 primordial elementary tissue, from which they are deve- 
 loped by modifications more and more special and pro- 
 found, first of structure -and then of composition.'' ^ 
 
 In advancing into vital dynamics, physiology, he affirms 
 the division of vegetative and animal life, giving to the 
 amimal the twofold life-organic and relative, and gives to 
 property the same physiological relation that he does to 
 tissue anatomically, and claims that the idea of function 
 corresponds with that of organ, so that the notion of func- 
 tion and property corresponds with those of organ and 
 tissue. As the tissues were divided into : 
 
 1. One primordial generative tissue, the cellular — 
 
 2. The secondary special tissues resulting from it; so 
 physiologically the properties are divided into : 
 
 1. Those which are general, and belong to all the tissues. 
 
 2. Those which are special, which characterize the most 
 distinctive modification, as the muscular and nervous. 
 
 He afi3.rms from Chevreul that : " There is an intimate 
 relation between the chemical composition of an aliment 
 and the organism which it nourishes. Hence the more 
 complex the organization, as in the higher forms of animal 
 life, the more complex are the aliments which nourish it." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that the principles of 
 Comte's system lead directly to the most unmitigated ma- 
 terialism, and hence he holds that the convolutions of the 
 brain are the centre of intellectual action, and that every 
 
 Lewes' s Comte, 185. '^ Idem, 189. 
 
500 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 idea of the mind is associated with a corresponding change 
 in some part or parts of these convolutions. 
 
 In his cerebral theory he adopts in some respects that of 
 Dr. Gall, claiming, however, what many of the adherents 
 of the latter deny, that the mental faculties are merely the 
 functions of their several and respective organs. But 
 curiously enough he departs from the system of Gall in 
 that point most of all in harmony with his own, viz : the 
 objective part of it, that' which seeks to establish by means 
 of observation of function and of form, the locality of the 
 several organs. In this the only instance, in which he 
 really founds anything upon the subjective method, and in 
 which it is the least entitled to prevail, he gives it the 
 priority, and seeks to build up his system not objectively 
 by the empirical method of Gall,^ but ^ priori, that is by 
 the consideration of the mental functions, their order of 
 development, and relative dignity ; seeking to locate organ 
 and corresponding function so as to bring those together 
 that are similar in their modes of manifestation.^ Thus he 
 rejects in Gall what he and his followers have always 
 claimed to be the basis upon which his doctrine rests, viz : 
 that the organs and faculties are established by a long 
 series of strict and' rigid observations. 
 
 The fifth and most remote planet that Comte seeks to 
 make revolve around his central positive sun is sociology, 
 under which term he includes social science.^ He admits 
 that this has yet to be created, yet to get itself to be recog- 
 nized as a possible science; and yet he does not despair of 
 bringing it under the dominion of the same positive princi- 
 ples that preside over mathematics and physics. 
 
 Order and progress, he says, must form the basis of every 
 real political system, and the one must be compatible with 
 the other. They must ultimately present themselves as the 
 two necessarily inseparable aspects of one principle, the 
 one involving the other. Thus society is conceived as an 
 
 Lewes' s Comte, 217. "" Idem, 318, et seq. ^ Idem, 233. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 501 
 
 organism, in which, incessant movement accompanies con- 
 stant stability of form. 
 
 The principle of sociology consists in conceiving social 
 phenomena as inevitably subjected to natural laws, the 
 peculiar character of which should first be fixed. A dis- 
 tinction must be drawn between the study of the conditions 
 whereby sociology exists, and that of the laws of its continu- 
 ous movement. This corresponds with order and progress. 
 
 Two states of society present themselves for investigation : 
 
 The first is the static, which has for its object the positive 
 study of the mutual action and reaction which all the por- 
 tions of the social system continually exercise upon each 
 other. The second is the dynamic, in which are studied 
 the laws of succession, as contradistinguished from those 
 of coexistence. The first presents the forms of order ; the 
 second furnishes the theory of progress.^ 
 
 The plan to be pursued in the static state consists in 
 examining successively the three principal orders of socio- 
 logical considerations, more and more complex and special 
 by taking into consideration the general conditions of 
 social existence; first with relation to the individual, then 
 to the family, and finally to society which, having attained 
 its entire scientific extension, tends to embrace the totality 
 of the human species. 
 
 In reference to the individual, there is a marked predo- 
 minance of the emotional, or afiective, over the intellectual 
 faculties ; and besides this general ascendancy, our least 
 elevated instincts, those most specially egotistical, have a 
 very great predominance over those nobler tendencies di- 
 rectly relative to sociology. 
 
 In the family is found the true social unity, the different 
 natures becoming almost fused into one. The sociological 
 theory of the family may be reduced to the examination of 
 two orders of necessary relations, viz : 
 
 1. The subordination of sex. 
 
 2. That of age. 
 
 ^Le^oes's Comte, 253. 
 
502 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The first of these institutes the family, while the second 
 maintains it. The life of the family will remain the 
 school of social life both in respect of obedience and 
 command. 
 
 It is the union of families, not individuals, that compose 
 general society. In this we find a high degree of complica- 
 tion. It is truly wonderful to notice '* that regular and con- 
 tinuous convergence of an immensity of individuals, each 
 endowed with an existence distinct, and to a certain degree 
 independent, and nevertheless all ceaselessly disposed,^ 
 notwithstanding the differences of their talents and charac- 
 ters, to concur by a multitude of various means to one 
 general development, without having in the least concerted 
 together, and most frequently in active unconsciousness, all 
 fancying they are only following their personal impulses." 
 Here we have the effect of the division of labor ; each in- 
 dividual following out unrestrained the natural bent of his 
 own inherent prompting, and yet, in the result, each uncon- 
 sciously contributing his. proportion to the establishment of 
 a social edifice whose arch spans the entire surface of so- 
 ciety. It leads us to regard, not only individuals and 
 classes, but also different peoples, as participating in an 
 immense common labor, of which the gradual develop- 
 ment connects the actual operators with their predeces- 
 sors, as well as with their successors. Thus considered, 
 social organization tends to repose on an appreciation of 
 individual differences, by distributing employments in such 
 a manner as to place each in the position he can best fill, 
 not only in accordance with his own vocation, but also with 
 his education and actual position. 
 
 The gradual subdivision of employments must establish 
 an ever increasing subordination which tends more and 
 more to the growth of government out of the very heart 
 of society itself. This subordination is not only material, 
 but also moral and intellectual. 
 
 Lewes's Comte, 263. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 503 
 
 In relation to the individual, the family, and society, the 
 first, or individual life, is characterized by direct predomi- 
 nance of personal instincts ; domestic, by the continuous 
 operation of sympathetic instincts, and social, by the spe- 
 cial development of intellectual influences. 
 
 In social dynamics intellectual evolution is the necessarily 
 predominating principle, and although our feeble intelli- 
 gence needs the first awakening and continuous stimulus 
 of appetites, passions and sentiments, it is under intel- 
 lectual direction that human progress has always been 
 accomplished. 
 
 Material development must follow a course not only 
 analogous, but also perfectly corresponding to that of 
 intellectual development. The primitive tendency of man 
 is to a military life, and his final destination is to an indus- 
 trial existence. The primitive races entertained an anti- 
 pathy for all regular labor, leaving no opportunity for the 
 exercise of activity except in the military life. 
 
 The military regime carried with it the individual slavery 
 of the producers. By that means the warriors were left 
 free to develop their characteristic activity. The prepon- 
 derance of military activity was, however, merely provi- 
 sional, and its importance constantly decreased as indus- 
 trial existence was able gradually to develop itself It is 
 in social dynamics that Comte more especially insists upon 
 the indispensable succession of three general states : the 
 primarily theological ; and transitorily metaphysical; and 
 the finally positive ; through which our intelligence p)asses 
 in all speculations. He claims that there is a natural 
 affinity between the theological and the military spirit, and 
 between the scientific and the industrial, and the two 
 transitory functions of metaphysicians and lawyers. 
 
 He also considers Catholicism and the feudalism of the 
 middle ages as being both of a transitory nature, and as 
 perishing by the mere conflict of their principal elements. 
 Each one was merely provisional in its character. Protest- 
 antism, or the right of private judgment, always, how- 
 
504 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ever, confined within the limits of Christian theology/ he 
 regards as " the anarchial spirit of discussion " which was 
 to ruin the admirable system of catholic hierarchy. The 
 deism, or philosophy of the eighteenth century, removed 
 all limits to the right of private judgment ; hut all endeavors 
 to restrain metaphysical discussion within the bounds of 
 monotheism, he regards as idle. 
 
 The opening of the fourteenth century marks the rise of 
 the industrial order.^ The first stage in this was the 
 substitution of serfdom for slavery. This fixed the culti- 
 vator to the soil he tilled, thus laying the foundation for 
 families and social rights. ]^ow commenced the contest 
 between privileged classes, ascendancy of birth, and that 
 wealth which is acquired by labor. Another contrast 
 and contest also now began its development between the 
 industrial population and standing armies, the result of 
 the military spirit, the consequence of which was that the 
 latter became a constantly diminishing minority. The 
 discovery of the compass, and the invention of fire-arms, 
 and of printing, came in aid of the industrial development. 
 These and other things led to the gradual abolition of serf- 
 dom, and the industrial movement became at last the 
 permanent object of European policy, which everywhere 
 placed the military at its service.^ 
 
 The aesthetic development originated about the same 
 time as the industrial. The latter consolidated the influ- 
 ence of the catholic and feudal manners by pervading 
 all classes with dispositions most favorable to the action of 
 the fine arts.^ Could the catholic and feudal have continued, 
 the aesthetic must have had a much larger development, 
 the industrial movement being less favorable to it. 
 
 The scientific development owes something to transitory 
 monotheism, as it began by patronizing the study of 
 nature's marvels in order to the more perfect appreciation 
 of providential optimism. 
 
 ^Lewea's Comte, 303. ^ Idem, 305. ^ Idem, 311, 312. ^ Idem, 314. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 505 
 
 There is still a farther development, the philosophic, 
 which iu scholasticism had realized to its utmost the social 
 triumph of the metaphysical spirit, the profound impotence 
 of which was unrecognized during several ages, from its 
 incorporation with the catholic constitution. The meta- 
 physical philosophy at length possessed itself of the spirit- 
 ual authority it had always coveted, even among nations 
 nominally catholic; and about the same period the scien- 
 tific spirit began to display itself in its true character, " by 
 the gradual convergeance of its spontaneous elaboration 
 towards decisive discoveries ; a character entirely incom- 
 patible with the ancient philosophy, metaphysical as well 
 as theological. In Germany were Copernicus, Tycho 
 Brahe, and Kepler.^ In England, Italy, and France were 
 Bacon, G-alileo, and Descartes. Comte insists that the 
 entire evolution of modern philosophy constitutes merely 
 a preliminary elaboration, the essence of which resides in 
 a plan for human regeneration. 
 
 Thus we have the latest phase of human thought in the 
 positive philosophy. In principle and method it bears some 
 analogy to the inductive method of Bacon. It differs from 
 it, in that : 
 
 1. The latter admits axioms of a purely rational or a 
 priori character, which lie at the basis of all inductive 
 reasoning ; the former denies all such.^ 
 
 2. The latter admits that its method is not applicable, in 
 the same sense, to the higher philosophical questions 
 generally, as to physical investigations. It was, in fact, 
 designed for the latter. The former extends it to every 
 possible species of human research. 
 
 3. The latter admits the sphere of internal consciousness, 
 as legitimately embraced in its system, while the former 
 strikes its whole region out of the bounds of human re- 
 search, and banishes it as a mere impalpable nonentity. 
 
 ^Lewes's Comte, 318. ^MoreU's Lectures, 36. 
 VI] 64 
 
506 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 One of the great difficulties with the positive philosophy- 
 is, that, granting all it claims, it does not, and upon its 
 own principles cannot, solve any great philosophical prob- 
 lems. It avoids them all either by excluding them from 
 its system, or by pronouncing them insoluble. While the 
 words development, hierarchical, solidarity, evolution, 
 elaboration, subordination, coordination, reorganization, 
 and regeneration abound in it, there is no place found for 
 such words as God, the soul, immortality. The great in- 
 ternal facts of man's spiritual nature and relations with his 
 creator are utterly ignored. We are never to step beyond 
 the region of outward phenomena, and the generalizations 
 drawn from them. It aims solely at advancing the ma- 
 terial interests of humanity, and thus views things only 
 upon their lower and utilitarian ground. It deals only 
 with facts, laws, and logical processes. It seizes upon 
 effects denying their causes ; upon laws denying the law- 
 giver ; upon the order of nature shutting out its author. 
 In robbing the universe of its creator it annihilates that 
 beauty, splendor and benevolence which it reflects of 
 creative wisdom and goodness. 
 
 But if it fail in its exposition of the loftiest conceptions 
 of the universe, how much more in its explication of man. 
 Here while its system is materialistic in all its tendencies, 
 and its method of classifying the mental faculties is objec- 
 tive, according to their objects, yet in its location of organs 
 it departs from its great method, observation, and appeals 
 to the relationship of functions to each other. 
 
 Another formidable objection consists in its ignoring 
 all the great problems to which human existence neces- 
 sarily gives birth. 
 
 1. It embraces no final causes, no inquiry into the rea- 
 sons or motives why, or for what, a mode of existence is 
 thus and not otherwise. 
 
 2. All questions of fatality and freedom are utterly ex- 
 cluded. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 507 
 
 3. All questions as to evil, whether moral or physical, 
 are ignored. To it virtue is refined selfishness, and reli- 
 gion weak puerility. 
 
 4. The reconciliation of sensualism with idealism, of the 
 objective with the subjective, the ego with the non ego, so 
 puzzling to almost all other systems, creates no difficulty 
 here. Its sensualistic tendencies are so strong as to banish 
 all such inquiries. 
 
 5. All the puzzling problems of causality, relating to 
 cause and effect, are consigned by it to the metaphysical 
 region, and do not, therefore, belong to the positive phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 6. Everything relating to the absolute, the unconditioned, 
 the infinite, whether it concern the possibility of compre- 
 hending it, or of connecting it with the relative, the condi- 
 tioned or the finite, is exiled from the lofty region of the 
 positive philosophy and sent far back to the theological 
 region, to the world in its infancy. 
 
 But although these difficulties are banished from all 
 discussion by the nature of positivism itself, yet there are 
 other difficulties that are not so easily got rid of. How 
 can any system that admits a law or anything equivalent to 
 it, escape the absolute ? Take, for instance, Comte's great 
 law that is to explain the world problem, viz : the three suc- 
 cessive stages through which humanity is to pass in its de- 
 velopment, viz : the theological, the metaphysical, and the 
 positive, on what does this depend ? If upon something 
 behind it, and which gave it a being, and annexed to it its 
 conditions, then that something is the absolute. If upon 
 nothing, if there is no principle, no mind, no force, no 
 power prior to it, then the law is itself the absolute, and 
 thus positivism is compelled to admit what its very essence 
 consists in denying. 
 
 The positive philosophy extends through six volumes, 
 and these being completed, Comte next attempts to reor- 
 ganize society on the basis of that philosophy. But here 
 his own disciples refuse to follow him. " I, for one," says 
 
508 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Lewes, his great expositor,^ " deem these attempts prema- 
 ture." 
 
 "He begins," says Lewes, ^^with religion as the key- 
 stone of the social arch ; the bond which binds the diverg- 
 ent tendencies of human beings into unity, and which 
 binds together the diverse individualities into society. 
 Eeligion, which at first was spontaneous, next inspired, 
 then revealed, now in this final state becomes demonstrated ; 
 following thus the laws of evolution which have presided 
 over science. Religion is not this or that form of creed, 
 but the harmony proper to human existence, individual 
 and collective, constituting for the soul a normal consensus 
 similar to that of health for the body. It gathers into its 
 bosom all the tendencies of our nature, active, affectionate 
 and intelligent. It presides over politics, art, and philo- 
 sophy. * * * * 
 
 " Religion must subordinate our existence to an external 
 and irresistible power. This is, in fact, nothing more than 
 the development of the biological notion of the necessary 
 subordination of an organism to a medium. * * * * 
 
 " Humanity is the great collective life of which human 
 beings are the individuals ; it must be conceived as having 
 an existence apart from human beings, just as we conceive 
 each human being to have an existence apart from, though 
 dependent on the individual cells of which his organism is 
 composed. This collective life is in Comte's system the 
 etre supreme; the only one we can know, therefore the 
 only one we can worship." 
 
 This, Lewes very properly says, makes religion purely 
 and simply what has hitherto been designated morals. 
 He also further objects that even upon Comte's own show- 
 ing, humanity can only be the supreme being of our world ; 
 it cannot be the supreme being of the universe. 
 
 These objections are obviously well taken, but unfortu- 
 nately they lie not against Comte, but against the positive 
 
 ^Lewes's Comte, Sd9. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 509 
 
 philosophy itself. In all this Comte did nothing but 
 legitimately follow out the principles of his system. The 
 laws of logic could not have permitted him to construct 
 any other religion. He had banished God from his system. 
 All the high and mighty sanctions, therefore, which the 
 law maker could dispense, were to him as nothing. "What 
 power could he invoke higher than a moral one, and even 
 that has no higher principle than the " harmony proper to 
 human existence," the order which is its proper result. 
 His disciples here arrive at a gulf from which they recoil, 
 but it is one to which they are necessarily led by a stern 
 logic from the first step taken in the positive philosophy. 
 
 Ye should have known what fruit would 
 Spring from such a seed. 
 
 In the element of philosophy we have now arrived at the 
 end of our journey. All further links in the chain of the 
 world's thinking await the development of the future. 
 There are few, if any, outgrowths of our common humanity 
 that more fully proclaim the unity of the race than the 
 continuous persistent efforts of mind at its own explica- 
 tion. "We have before intimated that these efforts follow 
 great cycles in the history of thought, and our belief is 
 that there are laws at the foundation, in accordance with 
 which all the developments in speculative philosophy take 
 place. The last cycle we indicated as being brought to a 
 close by the skepticism of Hume. His rigorous logic con- 
 signed to nonentity the separate efforts of the rationalistic 
 and sensualistic systems to establish on their own distinct 
 foundations a superstructure that should be permanent in 
 its character. 
 
 Then commenced a new cycle to be characterized by a 
 different line of effort ; or one not directed to the building 
 up either of a purely rationalistic or sensualistic system, 
 but to the reconciling of each one with the other, and to 
 
510 HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 the construction of a system that should embrace both, 
 and find in the proper explanation of each a union of both. 
 This had even then already found its commencement in 
 the monadology, preestablished harmony, and optimism of 
 Leibnitz. This great thinker laid the foundation of this 
 line of effort, and although he framed no perfect system yet 
 his profound suggestions have done much to aid all the 
 efforts of modern thinkers, so that Cousin has said : " The 
 more I advance and the more I believe in philosophy, the 
 more clearly I seem to see into the mind of that great 
 man ; and all my progress consists in understanding him 
 better."^ 
 
 ]^ext we have the Scottish school of common sense, as 
 expounded by Reid, Stewart and Sir William Hamilton, 
 characterized by the same line of effort. 
 
 Then follows the German school, the critical philosophy 
 of Kant, which came very near being successful in embrac- 
 ing within its ample range both the rationalistic and 
 sensualistic elements in such a manner as to enable them 
 to render mutual aid to each other. 
 
 But these two elements being thus distinctly presented, 
 they were again seized hold of by .new minds, and each 
 carried out into their full and perfect development. This 
 gives us the absolute idealism of Fichte,and the pantheistic 
 idealism of Schelling and Hegel on the one side, and on 
 the other the mysticism of Jacobi and the realism of 
 Herb art. 
 
 This leads naturally to the eclecticism of Cousin, in which 
 all the truth contained in all the philosophies is sought to 
 be embodied, while all the error is rejected. This would 
 naturally complete another cycle, in which although the 
 conclusions arrived at are far from being satisfactory to 
 all minds, yet when contrasted with the results attained 
 at the termination of the previous cycle, the gain will be 
 perceived to be immense. 
 
 Morell, 653. 
 
EUROPE — ITS PHILOSOPHY. 511 
 
 Lastly comes the positive philosophy, which may be the 
 commencement of a new cycle, destined to be yet more 
 comprehensive in its sweep, and, at its termination, to 
 plant the human mind with the results of its profound 
 speculations, on a foundation at once satisfactory and per- 
 manent. 
 
 But as it now stands the great mind and world problem 
 is yet unsolved, and to the philosopher who is ever busily 
 employed in seeking its solution, may be appropriately 
 applied the following beautiful passage from Hegel in 
 reference to Jacobi : 
 
 " He is like a solitary thinker, who in the morning of his 
 day has found a very ancient riddle hewn upon an eternal 
 rock. He believes in this riddle, but endeavors in vain to 
 interpret it. He carries it about with him the whole day, he 
 elicits from it meanings full of importance, which he moulds 
 into doctrines and images that delight the hearer, and in- 
 spire him with noble wishes and hopes ; but the interpre- 
 tation fails, and he lays him down at even with the hope 
 that some divine dream, on the next waking, will pro- 
 nounce to him the word for which he longs, and in which 
 he has so firmly believed." 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abelard, Peter, cliaracter and philo- 
 sophy, 242. 
 
 Accomplishments of the superior 
 people of France, 150. 
 
 Adour valley, character of its peo- 
 ple, 131. 
 
 Adultery, how punished by the An- 
 glo-Saxons and Danes in Eng- 
 land, 209 ; rare, nd severely 
 punished among the Germanic 
 tribes, 16. 
 
 Agincourt, arrows used at the battle 
 of, 220. 
 
 Agriculture in Germany, beneficial 
 results of the elevation of serfs 
 in, 120 ; taught as a science, 121 ; 
 societies formed for improve- 
 ment in, 121 ; in France, 136 ; 
 character of those pursuing it, 
 136. 
 
 Albigenses, crusade against, destroys 
 the troubadours, 79. 
 
 Alcuinus, 239. 
 
 Alexandrian library, 256. 
 
 AUophilian race, the, in France, 132. 
 
 Amorous court, how officered, 78. 
 
 Amusements among the young in 
 Germany, 126. 
 in France, 160. 
 in Lapland, 182. 
 in Russia, 31, 32, 33, 34. 
 in Switzerland, 110. 
 of the English people, 216-234. 
 
 Andalusians, character of, 84. 
 
 Anglo-Norman dress, 202 ; costume, 
 201; dwellings, 198; marriage 
 VI] 65 
 
 Anglo-Norman, continued — 
 
 ceremonies, 209; superstitions, 
 209. 
 
 Anne, costumes in England during 
 her reign, 206. 
 
 Anne of Austria, 146. 
 
 Appearance of the Russians, 24. 
 
 Apple-bee, the, in Germany, 125. 
 
 Apprenticeship in Germany, 118. • 
 
 Arabs invade Spain, 82, 83 ; influ- 
 ence upon Spanish society, 83 ; 
 driven out, 83 ; in Spain, influ- 
 ence of, upon philosophy, 244. 
 
 Archery in England, 219. 
 
 Architecture in England, 199. 
 Gothic, 199. 
 
 Aristotle, 241. 
 
 Armor bearer, the, candidate for 
 knighthood, 60. 
 
 Arms, privilege of bearing, how ac- 
 corded by the early German 
 nations, 55. 
 
 Army in Russia, how recruited, 21. 
 
 Arragonese, character of, 84. 
 
 Aristocracy in England, 196 ; in 
 Germany, condition of after the 
 abolition of serfdom, 116. 
 
 Arsenic eating in Austria, etc., habit, 
 object, and effects of, 129, 130. 
 
 Art modifies society, 9. 
 
 Aspasia, Grecian jDcriod of, repro- 
 duced in France, 163. 
 
 Astronomy in Comte's philosophy, 
 492. 
 
 Austria and Styria, arsenic eating in, 
 129. 
 
514 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Auvergne, character of its people, 
 131. 
 
 Baal, fragments of the worship of, 
 seen in England and Ireland, 
 332, 233. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 211, 385 ; dates of, 
 274 ; merit of, 281 ; labors of, 281. 
 Roger, see Roger Bacon. 
 
 Baconian philosophy, object of, 277 ; 
 problems of, 277, 278, 279; 
 diflaculty of, 279; prerogative 
 instances in, 279; analogy in, 
 280; method of, as stated by 
 Fischer, 281; its relation of 
 metai)hysics to natural theo- 
 logy, 283 ; incapable of explain- 
 ing religion, 284 ; demanded by 
 its age, 284; successful, 285; 
 efiect of, upon inventions and 
 discoveries, 285; narrow, par- 
 tial, and unilateral, 286 ; deve- 
 lopments of, 287 ; resuhs of, 287 ; 
 growths of, 303. 
 
 Bacon's idea of the soul, 283 ; of the 
 mind, 283; method, 275, 276; 
 aphorisms, 275, 276; idols that 
 had retarded science, 276. 
 
 Ball playing in England, 222. 
 
 room in Germany, freedom of, 
 126, 127. 
 
 Barrow burial, traces of, where seen, 
 18. 
 
 Bathing in Finland, 186. 
 
 Baths in Russia, 29 ; pubhc, 30. 
 in the Seine, 160. 
 Turkish, 38. 
 
 Beggars in Paris, 156. 
 in Spain, 91. 
 
 Beltane orBeltein, ceremonies of, in 
 Scotland, 232. 
 in Ireland, 233. 
 
 Berengers, courts of the, influence 
 of, 74. 
 
 Berkeley, George, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 312. 
 Berne, streets of, 110. 
 
 peculiar custom in. 111. 
 Betrothals in Korway, 176. 
 Bible, the, opened to the people in 
 
 England by Henry YIII, 213. 
 Billiards in England, 227. 
 Biology, or science of life in Comte's 
 
 philosophy, 498. 
 Biran, M. Maine de, philosophy of, 
 
 466. 
 Biscayans, appearance and character 
 
 of, 84. 
 Board jumping in Russia, 34. 
 Bohme, Jacob, dates and philosophy 
 
 of, 269. 
 Bologna, philosophical school of, 264. 
 Bonaventura, dates and philosophy 
 
 of, 245. 
 Boulevards of Paris, 159. 
 Bourbon dynasty in France effects 
 a change, 132. 
 
 house of, position of women 
 under, 145. 
 Bowling in England, 225. 
 Boxing matches in Russia, 32. 
 Boy bishop, game of, 229. 
 British isles, great barrier to uni- 
 formity in manners and cus- 
 toms in, 189. 
 
 races of, 189, 190, etc. 
 Britons, ancient, dwellings of, 197. 
 
 ancient hospitality and customs 
 
 of, 207 ; dress of, 201. 
 Brittany, character of its inhabitants, 
 
 130. 
 Brown, Thomas, philosophy of, 348. 
 Bruno, Giordano, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 262. 
 Brunswick, curious superstition in, 
 
 121. 
 Buildings, character of, among the 
 
 Germanic tribes, 13. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 515 
 
 Bull baiting and running in Eng- 
 land, 226. 
 fight in Spain, 92. 
 Burial among the ancient Britons, 
 207. 
 of the dead among the Germanic 
 
 tribes, 18. 
 service in Eussia, 28. 
 
 Cabanis, Pierre Jean Georges, dates 
 and philosophy of, 309. 
 
 Cafe in France, 164. 
 
 Cagots, people, where, 80 ; appear- 
 ance, 80 ; proscribed, 81 ; origin 
 uncertain, 81. 
 
 Campanella, Thomas, dates and 
 philosophy of, 265. 
 
 Cape of Good Hope, passage around 
 discovered, 255. 
 
 Cards, game of, 227. 
 
 Carnival in Venice, 99 ; in Italy, 103 ; 
 in Eome, 103 ; disguises worn, 
 103 ; horse races in, 103. 
 
 Caste in Russia, 22. 
 
 Castilians, appearance of, 84. 
 
 Castle, the, becomes a court, 56; 
 officers of, 56; the feudal, 47; 
 the home, 48. 
 
 Catalonians, appearance and charac- 
 ter of, 84. 
 
 Cavaliers in England, character of, 
 213. 
 
 Celibacy disgraceful in the Germanic 
 tribes, 15. 
 
 Celtiberian customs, 83 ; marriages, 
 83 ; women, dress of, 83. 
 
 Celtiberians punish corpulency, 83 ; 
 in the Spanish peninsula, 82. 
 
 Celtic race, see Scandinavians, 11, 
 12; in the British isles retain 
 some fragments of Baal worship, 
 232, 233 ; in France, 132 ; where 
 settled, 189. 
 
 Celts in the Spanish peninsula, 82. 
 Cerdagne and Roussillon, customs 
 
 of linking mediaBval to modern 
 
 times, 80. 
 Cerebral theory of Comte, 500. 
 Champagne, manners of its iDcople, 
 
 131, 
 Character of the 15th and 16th cen- 
 turies, 255, 256; important 
 events of, 255. 
 
 of the people in Rome, 104. 
 Charlemagne, 239; dubs his son 
 
 Louis le Debonaire knight, 58. 
 Charles I, costume of the cavaliers 
 
 in his reign, 205. 
 Charles II, costumes during his 
 
 reign, 205. 
 Charles VI, 77. 
 Charles VII, of France, drives out 
 
 the English, 132. 
 Chartres , Amaury de, pantheism of 
 
 244. 
 Chase, the, among the Germanic 
 
 tribes, 13. 
 Chaucer, 211. 
 Chemistry in Comte's philosophy, 
 
 493; organic, how divided by 
 
 Comte, 495. 
 Chess, game of, 227. 
 Chester races, 219. 
 Chevreuse, Madame de, character 
 
 of, 162, 163. 
 Children, education of, under the 
 feudal system, 49, 50. - 
 
 how reared among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 16 ; how reared 
 in Russia, 34 ; societies formed 
 for in Geneva, 107. 
 
 in Norway, 177. 
 Chimneys, when introduced into 
 
 England, 198. . 
 Chivalry, age and beauty of, 65 ; ad- 
 vanced by religion, 65; stimu- 
 lated by the opportunity of 
 
516 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Chivalry, continued — 
 
 redressing wrong, 65 ; dark side 
 of, 67 ; age of, dissolute, 67 ; licen- 
 tiousness of, 67 ; in France, 144 ; 
 its legacy to France, 144; final 
 abuse of, in France, 144, 145 ; in- 
 fluenced by religion, poetry, etc., 
 59 ; by society, 59 ; characteris - 
 tics of, 59 ; accessibility of, 59 ; 
 left a worthy successor in the 
 gentleman, 71 ; origin of, 55, 56 ; 
 its home, 55, 56; immediate 
 origin of, 56 ; and poetry in- 
 separably connected in the Pro- 
 ven9al, 76. 
 
 Christmas, celebration of in Kor- 
 way, 178 ; hohdays, how observ- 
 ed in Europe from the 11th to 
 the 16th centuries, 67. 
 
 Church ales, the, pastime of, in Eng- 
 land, 230. 
 
 Cisisbeism in Italy, 105 ; most pre- 
 valent in Genoa, 106. 
 
 Citizens of German cities, two 
 classes, 122, 123. 
 
 Civihzation, European, in great fer- 
 mentation during 11th, 12th, 
 and 13th centuries, 75. 
 
 Classes of peoples in Russia, 21. 
 
 Clergy in Rome, 104. 
 
 CHmate, indirect influence upon 
 
 man, 5 ; in regard to work, 5 ; 
 
 modifies society, 4 ; direct 
 
 influence upon man, 4. 
 
 of Russia, modify its society, 22. 
 
 Clothing, worn by the Germanic 
 tribes, 14 ; of the common Rus- 
 sians, 35. 
 
 Club-rooms in Germany, effects of, 
 127.' 
 
 Coek-fightmg in England, 226. 
 
 Collard, Peter Paul Roger, philo- 
 sophy of, 466. 
 
 Combe, George, dates and philo- 
 sophy, or phrenology of, 371. 
 
 Common sense philosophy, 347. 
 
 Comte, Auguste, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 484, 509; essence of 
 his philosophy, 484 ; method of, 
 485 ; hypotheses, how classified 
 in his system, 485 ; initial con- 
 ceptions upon which his philo- 
 sophy rests, 486; theological 
 phase and stages in his system, 
 486, 487 ; as to classification of 
 the sciences, 490; mathematics 
 in his system, 491; astronomy 
 in his system, 492; physics in 
 his system, 492; chemistry in 
 his system, 493; organic che- 
 mistry, how divided in his sys- 
 tem, 495 ; laws of organic life in. 
 his system, 496; matter, how 
 considered in liis system, 496; 
 life definitions and science of, 
 498; physiology in his system, 
 499 ; unmitigated materiahsm 
 of, 499 ; cerebral theory of, 500 ; 
 sociology of, 500; differs from 
 Bacon's system, 505 ; difficulties 
 of his system, 506 ; religion in 
 his system, 508; positivism of, 
 a transition from the schools 
 originated by the critical philo- 
 sophy, 311. 
 
 Condillac, Etienne de, dates and 
 philosophy of, 305. 
 
 Confirmation, importance of, in Ger- 
 many, 127. 
 
 Conrad the Pacific, 74. 
 
 Constantinople, captured by the 
 Turks, 36; conquest of, 255; 
 the treasury of literature, 255, 
 256. 
 
 Copenhagen, one hundred years be- 
 hind London in progress, 168. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 517 
 
 Corteges, Spanish, 89. 
 
 Costume in Kussia, variety of, 28; 
 Turkish, 38. 
 
 Costumes in England, see dress, 201, 
 207; absurdity of in the 15th 
 century, 203. 
 in Switzerland, 110. 
 
 Court of the Bourbons in France, 
 corrupt, 139. 
 life and etiquette in Germany, 
 
 118. 
 of Louis XIV, 146. 
 of Sweden formal, 171. 
 
 Courts of love, see Tribunals, 76. 
 
 Courtship among the ancient Bri- 
 tons, 208. 
 
 Cousin, Victor, dates and philosophy 
 of, 467-484; way prepared for 
 him, 466 ; method of, 468 ; psy- 
 chology of, 469 ; his idea of the 
 will, 470 ; idea of the reason, 
 471 ; doctrine of categories, 475 ; 
 476; phenomena of sensation, 
 478 ; a species of idealist, 478 ; 
 idea of ontology, 479; appre- 
 hension of the infinite, 481 ; en- 
 deavors to avoid pantheism, 
 481 ; in regard to the mind 
 comprehending the absolute 
 and unconditioned, 482 ; merit 
 of his system, 483 ; objec- 
 tions made against his system,- 
 483. 
 
 Crequy, Madame de, testimony 
 of, against the old French no- 
 bihty, 140. 
 
 Cricket in England, 223. 
 
 Critical philosophy, a rebound from 
 the scepticism of Hume, 383 ; 
 exponent of, 383. 
 
 Crusades, 255. 
 
 Curfew bell, tolling of, 210. 
 
 Custom, curious, in Westphalia and 
 Oldenburg, 126. 
 
 Customs and habits in Germany, 
 influenced by mdustrial pur- 
 suits, 123. 
 
 in Turkey compared with those 
 in Europe, 40, 41. 
 
 of Norway, resemblance to early 
 English, 175. 
 
 of the ancient Britons, 207. 
 
 of the ancient Iberians and Lu- 
 sitanians, 83. 
 
 of the Celtiberians, 83. 
 
 Daily round of duties among the 
 Germanic tribes, 17. 
 
 Dance in Russia, representing court- 
 ship, 33. 
 
 Dances, kinds of, in England, 224, 
 225. 
 national, of Norway, 175. 
 
 Dancing in Finland, 188. 
 
 Danes, the, behind the world in 
 progress, 168 ; classes of, 167 ; 
 personal appearance of, 167; 
 nobility among, 167 ; character 
 of, 168 ; extravagance of, 168 ; 
 in England, 191. 
 
 Danish extravagance, manifested in 
 burials and monuments, 168; 
 marriage ceremonies in Eng- 
 land, 209. 
 
 Darwin, Erasmus, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 304. 
 
 Dead, the, how cared for in^Russia, 
 27. 
 
 Death call, superstition of, in Ger- 
 many, 123. 
 
 Debtor's asylums in Rome, 104. 
 
 Delorme, Marion, 163. 
 
 Descartes, Rene, dates and philoso- 
 phy of, 317, 325, 384, 385. 
 
 De Villars, 147. 
 
 Dice, game of, whence originated and 
 
518 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Dinant, David de, pantheism of, 244. 
 Dinner among the Norman barons 
 
 in England, 210 ; service of in 
 
 Turkey, 40. 
 Doge, the, of Yenice, marriage of to 
 
 the Adriatic, 98. 
 Domestic happiness and virtues in 
 
 Switzerland, 109; unhappiness 
 
 in Spain, 89. 
 Don Quixote, last of the knight- 
 
 errants, 70. 
 Dordogne valley, character of its 
 
 people, 131. 
 Draughts, game of, 227. 
 Dress in England, 201-207; of the 
 
 peasants in Russia, 28 ; of the 
 
 women, 29. 
 Duellings in Switzerland, 110 ; of the 
 
 wealthy under the Tudor dy- 
 nasty in England, 200. 
 
 Easter week in Russia, amusements 
 of, 31,32. 
 
 Eclecticism, 465-484. 
 
 Education in Russia, limited, 21. 
 
 Edward III, 226. 
 
 Ehzabeth, female costumes in her 
 reign, 204 ; houses of the wealthy 
 during her reign, 200. 
 
 England, contest of races in, 190; 
 aristocracy in, 196 ; primogeni- 
 ture in, 195 ; houses in, 197, 201 ; 
 dress in, 201-207 ; minstrels in, 
 208 ; advancement of arts and 
 science, during the 14th century, 
 211 ; mode of living in, during 
 the loth century, 211 ; formality 
 of manners in the 16th century, 
 212 ; gluttony in, 212 ; hospi- 
 tality in, during the 15th cen- 
 tury, 212; morality in, during 
 the 17th century, 213; social 
 habits and customs in, 207-216 ; 
 
 England, continued — 
 
 hunting in, 216-218; hawking; 
 in, 218; horse-racing in, 219; 
 archery in, 219 ; use of sling and 
 spear in, 220; pitching quoits 
 in, 221 ; foot-racing in, 221 ; 
 wrestling in, 221 ; sports of, 
 216-234; swimming in, 221; 
 baU playing in, 222 ; hurling in, 
 222 ; pall mall, play of, in, 223 ; 
 cricket in, 223 ; jousts and tour- 
 naments in, 224 ; dancing in, 224. 
 
 English character, how formed, 192 ; 
 and French life contrasted, 150 ; 
 people, pastimes, sports and 
 amusements of, 216-234 ; philo- 
 sophy, 194; traits of character 
 of, 193-197; personal appear- 
 ance of, 193 ; common sense of 
 194 ; poetry of, 194. 
 
 Englishman, the, a thorough utili- 
 tarian, 194 ; the truth-loving and 
 honest, 195. 
 
 Estremadurans, appearance and cha- 
 racter of, 84. 
 
 Eugena, 239. 
 
 Fairs in England, sports of, 229 ; in 
 Germany, 121 ; great in Leipsic, 
 Brunswick and Frankfort, 121. 
 
 Family, the, the elementary state of 
 society, 9 ; in Russia, 20. 
 
 Fashion in Paris, 165. 
 
 Festival of fools, 229 ; of the resm*- 
 rection, how celebrated in Rus- 
 sia, 28. 
 
 Festivity among the Germans, 126. 
 
 Fetichism, 487, 488, 490. 
 
 Feudahsm, growth of, 45, 46, 47; 
 remains of, in Germany, 114; 
 influence upon society in Ger- 
 many, 114; social results of, 50- 
 55. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 519 
 
 Ficlite, Johann Gottleib, dates and 
 philosophy of, 400-414; his 
 philosophy as first promulgated 
 400 ; did not in terms deny the 
 reality of the external world, 
 401 ; his position on the reality 
 of the external world, 401 ; the 
 non ego of, 403; desire of to 
 furnish a doctrine of science, 
 404 ; fundamental laws of think- 
 ing, according to, 405 ; his sys- 
 tem, practical aspect of, 406; 
 theory of rights derived, 407; 
 idea of God, according to, 409 ; 
 later philosophy of, 410 ; stages 
 or periods of his philosophy of 
 destruction, 413 ; brief summary 
 of his system, 431. 
 
 Fidelity, habit of, due to feudalism, 
 54. 
 
 Finland, people of, 179. 
 
 Finns, personal appearance of, 184 ; 
 origin of, 184; dress of, 184; 
 occupations of, 185; social habits 
 of, 185 ; courtship of, 185 ; mar- 
 riage customs of, 186 ; baths of, 
 186. 
 
 Fischer's statement of the Baconian 
 method of philosophy, 281. 
 
 Florence, academy of, by whom and 
 when founded, 262. 
 
 Food, character of, among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 13. 
 
 'Toot-racing in the middle ages, 221. 
 
 France divided in the middle ages 
 by the Loire, 73; two distinct 
 dialects during that time, 73 ; 
 character of its different peo- 
 ples, 130, 131 ; origin of this 
 diversity, 131 ; origin of its 
 name, 131 ; races in, 131 ; north- 
 ern Flemish customs prevail, 
 131 ; revolutions in, by whom 
 brought about, 135 ; population 
 
 France, continued — 
 
 proportion engaged in agricul- 
 ture, 136; lands how owned, 
 136, 137; noblesse in, 137; 
 abolished, 137, 138; number 
 who perished under the guillo- 
 tine, 138 ; present ranks of no- 
 bility in, 138 ; nobility of, 150 ; 
 early training of the young in, 
 152 ; relation of the individual 
 to the government in, 154 ; or- 
 ganized benevolence of, 156 ; 
 suicides in, 158 ; restaurants in, 
 159. 
 
 Francis I, introduced into the 
 French court the ideas of chi- 
 valry, 144. 
 
 Frederic Barbarossa, invites Pro- 
 vencal knights to his court, 75. 
 
 French people, descended from, 
 130; character, not homogene- 
 ous, 133 ; peasantry, no know- 
 ledge among, 133 ; character of, 
 134; ideas and mode of thinking 
 by whom supported, 135 ; cha- 
 racter, is there such a thing? 
 141 ; what it is, 141 ; description 
 of, 142 ; by what monarchs best 
 understood, 142 ; society influ- 
 enced by, 144, 145; revolution, 
 connection of, with the previous 
 depravity of society, 149 ; per- 
 sonal appearance of, 150; wo- 
 men, 150 ; superior people in, 
 accomplished, 150; life con- 
 trasted with the English, 150 ; 
 live in the open air, and in 
 restaurants, 159 ; character, levi- 
 ty of, 165. 
 
 Fronde, times of the, 146. 
 
 Frozen provisions in Russia markets, 
 31. 
 
 Funeral rites, among the Germanic 
 tribes, 17. 
 
520 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Funerals in Germany, 128; pall 
 bearers at, 128 ; hired mourners 
 at, 128 ; peculiar customs of, in 
 northern Prussia, 128 ; in Lap- 
 land, 183 ; in Spain, 91. 
 
 Furniture of the Russian peasantry, 
 29. 
 
 Future state, belief of, among al- 
 most all nations evinced by 
 their modes of burying, 18, 19. 
 
 Gall, Francis Joseph, dates and phi- 
 losophy, or phrenology of, 369. 
 
 Gallicians, appearance and charac- 
 ter of, 84. 
 
 Gallo-Roman population, mode of 
 living, 45; conquered by the 
 Germans, 45. 
 
 Game laws in England, oppressive, 
 217. 
 
 Games of chance among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 13 ; prohibited in 
 Switzerland, 110. 
 
 Garonne valley, character of its 
 people, 131. 
 
 Gascony, see Provence, 73 ; character 
 of its people, 131. 
 
 Geneva, canton of, people, 107 ; city 
 of, 107 ; education in, 107 ; soci- 
 eties for children in, 107. 
 
 Gentleman, the, during the 16th 
 and 17th centuries succeeds the 
 knight, 71. 
 
 Georges, the, costumes in England 
 during thek reigns, 206. 
 
 German tribes, war on land, 12 ; 
 prodigal of life, 12 ; amuse- 
 ments, occupations, etc., that 
 of war, 12 ; war illustrates the 
 extension of society, 10 ; ladies, 
 113 ; school of philosophy 383 ; 
 brief review of, 463. 
 
 Germanic race, see Scandinavian, 11, 
 12. 
 
 Germans conquer the Eoman pro- 
 vinces and adopt their mode of 
 living, 45, 46 ; modern intellect- 
 ual character, 113 ; moral cha- 
 racter, 114; general character, 
 113 ; smokers, 113 common peo- 
 ple, character of, 114 ; merchants, 
 character of, 114 ; nobility, cha- 
 racter, 114 ; superstitions of, 123 ; 
 attached to festivity, 126. 
 
 Germany, no unity in, 112 ; liberty 
 in, 112; society in, 111-130; 
 free cities of, 112 ; political divi- 
 sions of," 114; nobility in, 114; 
 remains of feudal system in, 114 ; 
 serfdom in, 115; serfdom in, 
 steps of its abolition, 115 ; effects 
 of the abolition of serfdom in, 
 116; condition of the aristo- 
 cracy in after the abolition of the 
 serfs, 116 ; society in, but little 
 affected by the abolition of the 
 serfs, 116 ; taxation in, 116, 117 
 effect upon the peasantry, 117 
 social life in, how divided, 118 
 court life in, 118 ; guilds in, 118 
 agriculture in, benefited by the 
 abolition of serfdom, 120 ; same- 
 ness in houses and household 
 articles accounted for, 120 ; dis- 
 tinctions of rank in, 122 ; grades, 
 122; citizens, classes of, 122, 
 123 ; influence of industrial pur- 
 suits upon society, 123; vine- 
 yards in, 123 ; churchyards hung 
 with wreaths, 128. 
 
 Gerson, dates and philosophy of, 252. 
 
 Girls in Italy, employment of in 
 youth, 100. 
 
 Glacis, Switzerland, ancient manners 
 and houses, 108. 
 
 Glutton-masses in England, 211. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 521 
 
 Gluttony in England during tlie 
 IGth century, 212. 
 
 God, existence of, as demonstrated 
 by Tkomas Aquinas, 347 ; idea 
 of, according to Ficlite, 409. 
 
 Goitre in Switzerland, 111. 
 
 Gothic race, power of, in Spain, 82. 
 
 Government modifies society by the 
 greater or less degree of freedom 
 enjoyed, 8; by its capital and 
 court, 8. 
 
 Grape cure in Germany, 125. 
 
 Great Russia, uniformity of lan- 
 guage, manners and customs in, 
 19. 
 
 Grignans, the, 147. 
 
 Grostete, 211. 
 
 Guienne, see Provence, 73. 
 
 Guilds in Germany, funds of how 
 appropriated, 119 ; members of, 
 associate together, 119; bad 
 effects of, 120; rules of, 118; 
 kinds of, 119. 
 
 Guillotine, victims of, 138. 
 
 Gunpowder in England, 211. 
 
 Guyenne, character of its people, 
 181. 
 
 Hamilton, Sir William, divisional 
 charts of his philosophy, 352, 
 356; philosophy of, 347-368. 
 
 Hartley, David, dates and philoso- 
 phy of, 304. 
 
 Harvest home, feast of, 231. 
 
 Hawking in England, 218. 
 
 Hegel, George William Frederick, 
 dates and philosophy of, 430- 
 449 ; undertaking and endeavor 
 of, 430 ; starting point of, 431 ; 
 his conception of the laws of 
 thought, 432; stand point of, 
 433 ; division of his philosophy, 
 434; position of logic in his 
 VI] 66 
 
 Hegel, continued — 
 
 system, 434 ; division of logic 
 in his system, 435 ; his view of 
 the doctrine of being, 435 ; his 
 view of the doctrine of essences, 
 437 ; his view of the doctrine of 
 thought, 438 ; his view of the 
 doctrine of conception or notion 
 438 ; march or evolution of his 
 logic in its triadical projections, 
 439; his philosophy of nature, 
 440 ; accounts for the existence 
 of nature, 440; his pantheism 
 different from that of Schelling, 
 440 ; stages of his philosophy of 
 nature, 441; his philosophy of 
 mind, 443. 
 
 Helvetii, the primitive inhabitants of 
 Switzerland, 106 ; sprung from, 
 107. 
 
 Helvetius, Claude Adrian, dates and 
 philosophy of, 306. 
 
 Henry IV, effects a great change in 
 France, 132 ; not controlled by 
 his mistresses, 145. 
 
 Henry VIII, 226; costumes in his 
 reign 204 ; gives the Bible to the 
 people in the church, 213. 
 
 Heptarchy of England, characterized 
 by, 190. 
 
 Herbart defends realism, 453 ; John 
 Frederick, dates and philosophy 
 of, 453-463 ; idea of absolute ex- 
 istence, 455; threefold division 
 of his philosophical system, 
 456; metaphysics of, 456; seat 
 of the soul according to, 463. 
 
 Hidalgo, derivation of the title, 82. 
 
 Hobbes, Thomas, dates of, 287 ; sup- 
 plements Bacon, 287 ; philoso- 
 phy of, 287; sole object of his 
 philosophy, 291 ; the father of 
 the materialistic systems of 
 France, 293. 
 
522 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Holbacli, Baron Paul H. D. Von, 
 dates and philosophy of, 307. 
 
 Home affections limited but intense 
 under the feudal system, 48, 49 ; 
 in France, 154. 
 
 Homes in Turkey, 40. 
 
 Horse racing in Russia, 32 ; in Eng- 
 land, 219 ; degenerated into a 
 system of gambling, 219. 
 
 Hospitality of the Germanic tribes, 
 13 ; among the Germanic tribes, 
 16. 
 
 House markets in Russia, 30. 
 
 raising in Germany, festivities 
 of, 126. 
 
 Household manners in Norway, 
 177. 
 
 Houses in England, early and later, 
 197,201; in London, 198; in 
 Paris, construction of, 158; of 
 the peasantry in Russia, 29. 
 
 Hume, David, dates and philosophy 
 of, 332; epitaph of, 334; his 
 system the termination of one 
 cycle in the history of philoso- 
 phy, 338. 
 
 Hunting in England, 216, 218 ; ani- 
 mals pursued, 217 ; dogs trained 
 for, 217; methods of, 217; 
 moral effect upon English cha- 
 racter, 218; in general, 216; 
 reduced to a system by the 
 Normans, 216. 
 
 Iberians in the Spanish peninsula, 
 
 82. 
 Ice hills in Russia, sliding down, 
 
 33. 
 Idealism, 399-414; of Fichte, 400- 
 
 414 ; views intelligence as, 405 ; 
 
 Platonic, origin and supporters 
 
 of, 262. 
 
 Idealistic school of philosophy, 261. 
 summary of its progress, 338 ; 
 where originated, 270. 
 
 Idiocy in Switzerland, 111. 
 
 Idols that had retarded science, ac- 
 cording to Bacon, 276. 
 
 Indo-Germanic race, 179. 
 
 Industrial order, rise of, 504; pur- 
 suits in Germany, influence of, 
 upon social habits and customs, 
 123. 
 
 Industry, influence upon man in 
 society, 6. 
 
 Infinite, apprehension of by Cousin, 
 481. 
 
 Inns for journeymen in Germany, 
 119. 
 
 Inquisition, effect of, on Spanish 
 character, 86. 
 
 Intelhgence in Switzerland, 110. 
 
 Intemperance in eating and drink- 
 ing prohibited by law in Eng- 
 land, 210. 
 
 Italian peninsula, resemblance to 
 the Spanish, 95 ; physical pecu- 
 liarities of, 95; diversities of 
 peoples in, 95 ; religious influ- 
 ences upon, 95; climate and 
 productions of, 96 ; absolute go- 
 vernments of, 96 ; vivacity, 97 ; 
 solemnity of manner, 97; beauty, 
 97; gentleman, 100; love of 
 lounging, 101. 
 
 Jacobi, Frederich Heinrich, dates 
 and philosophy of, 449 - 453 ; his 
 idea of the understanding, 449 ; 
 his idea of the reason, 450; 
 merit of, 450 ; defends empiri- 
 cism, 452. 
 
 James I, 226. 
 
 Jasmin, Jacques, the last of the trou- 
 badours, 79. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 523 
 
 Jolin, king of England, 317. 
 of Salisbury, 344. - 
 
 Jotun race, 180. 
 
 Journeymen in Germany, object of 
 the rule, 130 ; workmen in Ger- 
 many, 118, 119. 
 
 Jousts, see tournaments, 63. 
 
 Jura, character of its people, 131. 
 
 Jurisprudence of Norway, 174. 
 
 Kant, Emanuel, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 383-399; work of, 
 384; merit of, 385; primary 
 division of mental phenomena, 
 386; three critics of, 386; 
 modes of the judgment and 
 categories derived from them, 
 388 ; on the existence of God, 
 393 ; verges on pantheism, 393 ; 
 his philosophy unsatisfactory, 
 398 ; great merits of, 399 ; phi- 
 losophies growing out of his 
 critical philosophy, 399; brief 
 summary of his system, 430. ; 
 
 Knight errantry, origin, nature and 
 strength of, 65, 66 ; errants, 
 amorous, how attired, 69 ; ex- 
 pedition® of, why undertaken, 
 69 ; vows of made and fulfilled, 
 69 ; extravagances of, 69 ; last 
 of, 70 ; errantry, coeval with 
 chivalry, 69 ; meaning of the 
 term, 69 ; died out, 70. 
 
 Knighthood, upon whom conferred, 
 58 ; how conferred, 57, 58 ; age 
 necessary to, 60 ; mode of con- 
 ferring it, 60 ; oaths to be taken, 
 61 ; privileges of, 61 ; influence 
 in the elevation of woman, 61, 
 63 ; influence upon Europe, 66 ; 
 upon society, 66 ; upon person- 
 al purity and manners, 66. 
 
 Laboring class in France, condition 
 of, 135 ; revolutionists, 135. 
 in Norway, condition of, 176. 
 
 Lace makers among the Erz moun- 
 tains, see miners, 135. 
 
 Ladies engaged in hunting in Eng- 
 land, 317. 
 
 Land proprietors in France, 137. 
 
 Landed property, the steppmg stone 
 to political power, under feudal- 
 ism, 50. 
 
 Languedoc, see Provence, 73 ; cha- 
 racter of its people, 131. 
 
 Lapland, people of, 179. 
 
 Laplanders, origin of, 180 ; appear- 
 ance and character of, 180 ; dress 
 of, 180; occupations of, 180; 
 huts of, 181 ; bed of, 181 ; moun- 
 tain life of, 181 ; maritime life 
 of, 181 ; courtship among, 183 ; 
 marriage among, 183; amuse- 
 ments of, 183 ; funerals among, 
 183 ; magic art of, 183. 
 
 Laromiguiere, dates and philosophy 
 of, 465 ; idea of the understand- 
 ing, 465 ; as to the origin of 
 ideas, 466. 
 
 Lazzaroni in Naples, 103 ; character 
 of, 103 ; dress of, 103. 
 
 Legitimists, or old noblesse, of 
 France, character and condition 
 of, 138, 139 ; what and whence, 
 138 ; head of, 138. 
 
 Leibnitz, 384; Gottfried William, 
 dates and philosophy of, 341. 
 
 Licentiousness in the age of chival- 
 ry, 67. 
 
 Life, definitions and science of, in 
 Comte's philosophy, 498; or- 
 ganic, laws of, according to 
 Comte, 496. 
 
 Liquors, nature of, among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 13. 
 
524 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Literature, choicest specimens of, 
 where kept during the middle 
 ages, 255, 256; when scattered 
 throughout Europe, 256; effect 
 of upon modern philosophy, 256. 
 Little Russia, population and dia- 
 lects, 19; character of its peo- 
 ple, 23. 
 Living, among the English harons 
 in the 15th century, 211. 
 in Eussia, 85. 
 
 mode of, among the Germanic 
 tribes, 13. 
 Locke, John, dates of, 293 ; influence 
 of his essay on the human un- 
 derstanding, 293 ; thoughts upon 
 which his system reposes, 293 ; 
 plan of his system, 294 ; method 
 he pursued, 294 ; philosophy of, 
 293-303 ; his derivation of ideas, 
 298 ; his idea as to the nature of 
 knowledge, 300; idea of the 
 soul, 301; argument for the 
 existence of the deity, 301 ; great 
 endeavor of, 385. 
 Logic, position of, in Hegel's system, 
 434 ; division of, 435 ; evolution 
 of, in its triadical projections in 
 Hegel's system, 439. 
 Lombard, Peter, 244. 
 Londoners under Henry II, sports 
 
 of, 220. 
 Long parliament, social acts of, 215. 
 Longueville, Duchess de, 146. 
 Lord of misrule, the, game of, in 
 
 England, 228. 
 Louis XI, shameful exhibitions upon 
 
 his entry into Paris, 67. 
 Louis XIII, position of woman du- 
 ring his reign, 145. 
 Louis XIY, confirms an academy of 
 love, 78 ; reason of his long 
 and prosperous reign, 142; 
 long reign of, 146; court of. 
 
 Louis XIV, continued — 
 
 146; jninority of, the great 
 period of womanly intrigues, 
 146; state of morals during 
 his reign, 147. 
 
 Louis XV, immoralities of his reign, 
 139; licentiousness of his reign, 
 148. 
 
 Louis XVI, character of, 149. 
 
 Magic art in Lapland, 183. 
 
 Malebranche, Nicolas, dates and 
 philosophy of, 325. 
 
 Man, modes of his existence, 234. 
 
 Manners, equahty of, among all 
 ranks in Norway, 176, 177 ; for- 
 mality of in England during the 
 16th century, 212. 
 
 Markets in Germany, see fairs, 
 121. 
 
 Marriage allowed but once among 
 the Germanic tribes, 15; cere- 
 monies of the Anglo-Saxons 
 and Danes in England, 209; 
 ceremony among the Germanic 
 tribes, 14: when contracted, 
 14; in Russia, 27; courtship in 
 Finland, 185, 186; among the 
 Laplanders, 182 ; in France, 152 ; 
 relation in France, how ob- 
 served, 153; in Spain, 88; in 
 Valencia, expense and cere- 
 mony, 88 ; purity of, in the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 15 ; in Turkey, 41 ; 
 in France, how brought about, 
 153 ; in Sweden, 172 ; improvi- 
 dent, how checked in Norway, 
 176. 
 
 Married women in Turkey, position 
 of, 42. 
 
 Marseillaise hymn, power of, 72. 
 
 Marsilio Ficino, dates and school of, 
 262. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 525 
 
 Martial spirit, the leading feature of 
 the Scandinavian, Celtic, and 
 Germanic races, 12. 
 
 Masked balls, when first introduced, 
 147. 
 
 Masses for the dead in Spain, 92. 
 
 Mathematics in Comte's philosophy, 
 491. 
 
 Matter, how considered by Comte, 
 496. 
 
 Matrimonial scheming in Germany, 
 127. 
 
 May day in Dublin, 232. 
 dew in Edinburgh, 232. 
 games in England, 231; and 
 name in Ireland, 233. 
 
 Mazarin, Cardinal, 163. 
 
 Men, most perfect in the northern 
 temperate zone, 4, 5 ; less pow- 
 erful and constant in a torrid 
 zone, 5. 
 
 Metaphysics of Herbart, 456. 
 
 Middle ages, the, commencement, 
 theology, doctrines, and philo- 
 sophy of, 239 ; great character 
 and importance of, 238. 
 
 Migratory character of the German- 
 ic tribes, H. 
 
 Mind, Hegel's philosophy of, 443; 
 the, nature of according to 
 Bacon, 283; subjective, essence 
 and stages of, according to 
 Hegel, 443; objective, or moral 
 and political philosophy, ac- 
 cording to Hegel, 444 ; absolute, 
 essence and forms of, according 
 to Hegel, 446. 
 
 Miners, weavers, lace makers, and 
 wooden ware manufacturers 
 among the Erz mountains, 
 mode of living of, 125. 
 
 Minnesingers of Germany, differ 
 
 from the troubadours, 79. 
 Minstrel, the, in England, 208. 
 
 Mistresses in Sweden, 170. 
 
 Monadology, 341, 342-347. 
 
 Monarchies, state of society in, 8. 
 
 Monogamy, the universal practice of 
 the Germanic tribes, 14. 
 
 Monotheism, 488. 
 
 Montaigne, dates and skepticism of, 
 266. 
 
 Montbazon, castle of, scene there, 
 70. 
 Duchess de, 146. 
 
 Morals, state of, deplorable beyond 
 measure during the reign of 
 Louis XIV, 147. 
 
 Morgue of Paris, 157. 
 
 Music in Finland, 188 ; influence of 
 among nations, 72 ; national of 
 Russia, 24 ; on the horn in Rus- 
 sia, 32; power of, on nations 
 when strongest, 72. 
 
 Musicians, appearance and charac- 
 ter of, 84. 
 
 Mysticism, 260 ; during the transi- 
 tion period, 267; of Jacobi, 
 449-453; a reaction against 
 useless speculations, 243 ; where 
 originated and supported, 270. 
 
 Naples, a city of talkers, 101 ; no 
 riots in, 102 ; luxuries in, 102 ; 
 common people of universally 
 sober, 102 ; Lazzaroni, 102. 
 
 Napoleon I, reason of his influence 
 over the French, 142, 143 ; re- 
 creates the nobility, 138. 
 
 Napoleonic nobility in France, 138. 
 
 Nature, Hegel's philosophy of, 440 ; 
 triadic divisions of, 442. 
 
 New world, discovery of, 255. 
 
 Nicholas de Cusa, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 267. 
 
 Nine pins, game of, 225. 
 
 Ninon de I'Enclos, 163. 
 
526 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Nobility of Russia, a large class, but 
 no coi-porate existence, 20 ; posi- 
 tion and privileges under feu- 
 dalism, 51 ; in Germany, 114 ; 
 grades of, 122 ; modes of living, 
 122 ; in France, 137 ; abolished, 
 137, 138; number guillotined, 
 138 ; recreated by Napoleon I, 
 138 ; ranks of at present, 138; old 
 rank or the legitimists, character 
 and condition of, 138 ; contrasted 
 with the English, 150; among 
 the Danes, 167 ; in England, 196. 
 
 Nobles in Russia, residences and 
 character of, 22. 
 
 Nominalism schools of, established, 
 240 ; nature of, 241 ; conse- 
 quences of, 241, 242; revived in 
 the 14th century, 251. 
 
 Norman invasion of England, 191 ; 
 results of, 191. 
 dvrellings in England, 198. 
 
 Normandy, character of its inhabit- 
 ants, 130. 
 
 Normans, character of, 192 ; dis- 
 tinguished for, 209 ; temperate 
 in eating and drinking, 210; 
 whence and what, 191. 
 
 Norway, reasons of its interesting 
 character, 173 ; country, charac- 
 ter of, 173; early population, 
 173 ; no feudalism in, 173 ; juris- 
 prudence of, 174; classes of 
 population in, 174 ; no privileged 
 classes in, 175 ; distinctions in, 
 175; national dances of, 175; 
 customs of, 175 ; equality of 
 manners among all ranks in, 
 176, 177 ; condition of the labor- 
 ing classes in, 176 ; betrothals 
 in, 176 ; household ways in, 177 ; 
 superstition in, 178 ; children in, 
 177 ; women in, 178 ; Christmas 
 in, 178. 
 
 Norwegian migration into England, 
 
 191 ; toasts, 178 ; dinners, 178. 
 Novum Organum, 276. 
 
 Obedience, passive in Russia, 20; 
 how enforced, 20; exemptions 
 from, 20. 
 
 Occam revives nominalism, 251 ; 
 philosophy of, 251. 
 
 Oldenburg, curious custom in, 126. 
 
 Orleans, duke of, his regency shame- 
 lessly hcentious, 148; nobiUty 
 in France, what and whence, 
 138. 
 
 Osman, or Othman, founder of the 
 Ottoman Turks, 36. 
 
 Padua, philosophical school of, 264, 
 265 ; scholars of, 265: 
 
 Pall Mall, origin of the name, 223. 
 
 Pantheism of Hegel, 430-449; of 
 Schelling, 414-430 ; of Spinoza, 
 327-331. 
 
 Pantheistic systems of Amaury de 
 Chartres, and David de Dinant, 
 244. 
 
 Paracelsus, Theophrastus, dates and 
 philosophy of, 267. 
 
 Paris, source of its preponderance in 
 France, 132 ; unlike the rest of 
 France, 133 ; beggars in, 156 
 the centre of fashion, 165 
 morgue of, 157 ; police of, 154 
 representative of France, 150 
 systematized vice in, 156. 
 
 Pastoral life in Switzerland, 110. 
 
 Patriarchal principle of the east 
 mingled with the political prin- 
 ciples of the west, 19. 
 
 Peasantry in France, ignorant, 133 ; 
 reserved, 134; character of 
 134 ; retain the customs of the 
 
INDEX. 
 
 527 
 
 Peasantry, continued — 
 
 middle ages, 134; indifferent 
 as to politics, 135 ; have but 
 little influence, 135. 
 in Germany, unchanged in dress 
 and customs, 116; reason of, 
 117. 
 in Northern Prussia, singular 
 
 funeral customs of, 138. 
 in Russia, endurance of, 23; 
 love music, 26 ; houses of, 29 ; 
 furniture of, 29. 
 of Sweden, position, condition 
 
 and character, 171, 172. 
 sea-faring of Norway, 174 ; agri- 
 cultural, of Norway, 174; 
 mountain, of Norway, 174. 
 Peasants in Russia, dress of, 28. 
 Peripatetic sensualism, first school 
 
 of, 264. 
 Peter I, imports civilization from 
 
 Europe, 21. 
 Philip V, his will, 92. 
 PhiUppa of Hainault, queen, 211. 
 Philosophy, in England, 194 ; mod- 
 ern, its commencement, 255; 
 task of, 235 ; problems of, 236 ; 
 spontaneous stage of, 236, 237 ; 
 second stage of, 237; modern, 
 systematized, 237 ; modern, sys- 
 tems of that are related, com- 
 mencement of, 237; scholastic 
 periods of, 239; of Wm. de 
 Champeaux, 241, 242 ; of Peter 
 Abelard, 242; of Hugh and 
 Richard St. Victor, 243 ; of Peter 
 Lombard, 244 ; of John of Salis- 
 bury, 244 ; of Amamy de Char- 
 tres, 244 ; of David de Dinant, 
 244 ; of Bonaventura, 245 ; of 
 Thomas Aquinas, 246 ; of Duns 
 Scotus, 249; of Roger Bacon, 
 250 ; of Raymond LuUi, 251 ; 
 of Occam, 251 ; of Gerson, 252; 
 
 Philosophy, continued — 
 
 of Raymond of Sebonde, 252 ; 
 of Marsilio Ficino, 262; of 
 John Picus, 262 ; of Ramus of 
 Picardy, 262 ; of Giordano Bru- 
 no, 262 ; of Peter Pomponatius, 
 264 ; of Vanini, 265 ; of Bernado 
 Telesio, 265 ; of Thomas Cam- 
 panella, 265; of Montaigne, 
 266 ; of Nicholas de Cusa, 267 ; of 
 Theophrastus Paracelsus, 267; 
 of J. Baptist Van Helmont, 269 ; 
 of Jacob Bohme, 269; of Fran- 
 cis Bacon, 27^287 ; of Thomas 
 Hobbes, 287; of John Locke, 
 293; of David Hartley, 304; 
 of Erasmus Darwin, 304; of 
 Etienne de Condillac, 305; of 
 Claude Adrian Helvetius, 306 ; 
 of Baron Paul H. D. Von Hol- 
 bach, 307 ; of Pierre Jean Georges 
 Cabanis, 309 ; of Count Destutt 
 de Tracy, 310; of Berkeley, 
 312 ; of Rene Descartes, 325 ; of 
 Malebranche, 325; of Spinoza, 
 327; of David Hume, 332; of 
 Leibnitz, 341 ; of Christian 
 Wolf, 347; of Thomas Ried, 
 347; of Thomas Brown, 348; 
 of Sir William Hamilton, 347- 
 368 ; sensualistic school of, 261 ; 
 idealistic school of, 261; of 
 Europe down to the 15th cen- 
 tury, how limited, 261 ; schools 
 of, that arose during the 15th 
 century, 262 ; sensualistic, where 
 originated, 270 ; idealistic, where 
 originated, 270 ; modern, pre- 
 parations for, 270; commence- 
 ment of, 270 ; demands of the 
 age upon it, 271; plans upon 
 which to exhibit it, 271 ; by 
 what nations developed, 272 ; 
 schools of, 272 ; empirical , 272 ; 
 
528 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PMlosopliy, continued — 
 
 chart of, 373 ; difference be- 
 tween the sensualistic and ra- 
 tionalistic systems of, 274; of 
 Bacon, analytic, 275; aphor- 
 isms of, 275 ; sensualistic in 
 France, results of, 310, 311; 
 Scottish school of, 349 ; table of, 
 352 ; or phrenology of Francis 
 Joseph Gall, 369 ; of Dr. J. G. 
 Spurzheim, 370; of George 
 Combe, 371 ; German school of, 
 383 ; of Kant, 383-399 ; critical, 
 383 ; early, of Fichte, 400-410 ; 
 later, of Fichte, 410-414 ; ideal- 
 istic, 399-414; of destruction, 
 periods of, according to Fichte, 
 413 ; of Schelling, 414-430 ; of 
 Hegel, 430-449, of Hegel, di- 
 vision of, 434 ; of mind, accord- 
 ing to Hegel, 443; of nature, 
 according to Hegel, 440; of 
 mind, according to Hegel, tria- 
 dical forms of, 447; of Jacobi, 
 449-453; of Herbart, 453-463; 
 German school, brief review of, 
 463 ; of Peter Paul Koger-Col- 
 lard, 466 ; of Biran, M. Maine 
 de, 466 ; positive system of, 
 484-509; of Comte, 484; eclec- 
 tic, 465-484 ; of Victor Cousin, 
 467-484; new, demanded by 
 the French intellect, 465; of 
 Laromiguiere, 465 ; positive, 
 initial conceptions upon which 
 it rests, 486 ; brief review of, 
 509-510. 
 
 Phoenicians in the Spanish penin- 
 sula, 82. 
 
 Phrenology, discussion of, 369, 383 ; 
 charts and names of, 374, 375 ; 
 explanation of charts of, 376. 
 
 Physiology in Comte's philosophy, 
 499. 
 
 Picus, John, 262. 
 
 Plato, 240. 
 
 Platonic ideahsm, origin and pro- 
 gress of, 262. 
 
 Plough, the Russian, 35. 
 
 Poetry in Finland, 187. 
 
 Police regulations in Paris, 154 ; 
 secret, in Paris, 155. 
 
 Politeness in France, 151. 
 
 Political economy in England, 194 ; 
 divisions in Germany, 114. 
 
 Polygamy in Turkey, 42 
 
 Polytheism, 488. 
 
 Pompadour, Madame de, 148. 
 
 Pomponitius, Peter, dates and phi- 
 losophy of, 264. 
 
 Portuguese, appearance of, 82. 
 
 Positive philosophy, initial concep- 
 tions upon which it rests, 486 ; 
 five fundamental sciences of 
 491 ; system of philosophy, 484, 
 509. 
 
 Post horses and stages, introduced 
 in England, 212. 
 
 Priests and monks in Russia, num- 
 ber of, compared with students, 
 21. 
 
 Primogeniture, law of, influence 
 upon English character, 195 ; not 
 the law in Russia, 22. 
 
 Printing, invention of, 255. 
 
 Problems presented to the philoso- 
 pher, 236. 
 
 Provencal language, the first to 
 which the Latin gave birth, 79 ; 
 poetry introduced into Bar- 
 celona and Catalonia, 74, 75; 
 into Spain, 75; connected with 
 chivalry, 76. 
 
 Provence, character of its people, 
 131; courteousness and gal- 
 lantry in, 75. 
 Languedoc, Guienne, and Gas- 
 cony, people, climate and 
 
INDEX. 
 
 529 
 
 Provence, continued — 
 
 country, 73, 74; chivalry of 
 their people, 74 
 Prussia, singular funeral customs 
 
 in, 128. 
 Puritans in England, character of, 
 213, 214 ; influence of, 215 ; Eng- 
 lish, characteristics of, 7. 
 
 Quoits, pitching of, in England, 221. 
 
 Eamus of Picardy, dates and phi- 
 losophy of, 262. 
 
 Kank, distinctions of in Germany, 
 122; grades of, 122. 
 
 Eationalistic philosophy differs from 
 the sensualistic, 274, 317 - 332. 
 
 Raymond of Sebonde, dates and 
 philosophy of, 252. 
 Lulli, dates and philosophy of, 
 251. 
 
 Realism of Herbart, 453-463; na- 
 ture of, 241; pei'iod of, 240.; 
 ultimate limit of, reached, 242. 
 
 Reformation, 255 ; foundation of^ 
 243. 
 
 Reid, Thomas, dates and philosophy 
 of, 347. 
 
 Religion in Comte's philosophy, 508 ; 
 influence upon society, 6, 7; 
 province of, 7. 
 
 Religious ceremonies modify society., 
 7 ; songs of Russia, 25. 
 
 Republics, state of society in, 9. 
 
 Retz, Cardinal, establishes an acade- 
 my of love, 78. 
 
 Revolutions in France, by whom 
 effected, 135 ; not brought about 
 by the peasantry, 135 ; effect 
 upon society, 140. 
 
 Rhine Gau, the paradise of Germany, 
 124. 
 VI] 67 
 
 Rhone valley, character of its peo- 
 ple, 131. 
 
 Richard II, dress in England during 
 his reign, 203. 
 Coeur de Leon invites Provcngai 
 knights to his court, 75. 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal, 145, 163. 
 
 Roger Bacon, dates and philosophy, 
 250; th« precursor of Bacon, 
 250. 
 
 Roman women, face and form, 97; 
 fade early, 98. 
 
 Romans in England, 190. 
 
 Rome, classes of 'people in, 104 ; se- 
 cular clergy in, 104; asylums, 
 debtors in, 104; influence of, 
 upon the Teutonic nations, 43. 
 
 Roscellin, 240. 
 
 Russia, social organization of, 19; 
 the family in, 20; village or 
 township, 20 ; nation, principles 
 of its government, 20 ; political 
 and social institutions of, go- 
 verned by passive obedience, 20 ; 
 obedience enforced by the cud- 
 gel, 20 ; nobility of, exempt from 
 the cudgel, 20; no esprit du 
 corps among the nobility, 20; 
 .serfdom, extent and nature of^ 
 21 ; edu<iation in, 21 ; few stu- 
 dents, but an army of priests 
 and monks, 21 ; derives her 
 strength from barbarism, 21; 
 state of society before Peter I, 
 21 ; diversity of society in, 22 ; 
 climates of, influenee upon, 22 ; 
 civil distinctions cause diversity 
 in society, 22 ; castes exist, but 
 not in form, 22; nobles, resi- 
 dences and character of, 22 ; pea- 
 santry, endurance of, 23; soL 
 diery, life and endurance of, 23 ; 
 character of the people of Little 
 Russia, 23 ; variety in outward 
 
530 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Russia, continued — 
 
 appearance, 24 ; national music 
 of, 24 ; symbolize their feelings 
 ' by external nature, 24 ; super- 
 stitions in, 25 ; religious songs of, 
 25 ; peasantry songs, 26 ; wo- 
 men, mature early, 26; position 
 of woman, 26 ; marriage in, 27 ; 
 care of the dead, 27 ; burial ser- 
 vice, 28 ; celebration of the re- 
 surrection festival in, 28 ; variety 
 of costume in, 28 ; houses of the 
 peasantry in, 29; furniture of 
 the peasantry in, 29 ; villages in, 
 appearance of, 29, 31 ; baths in, 
 29 ; industry in, 30 ; house mar- 
 ket, 30 ; frozen provisions sold 
 in, 31 ; village council, 31 ; 
 amusements, 31, 32, 33, 34 ; horn 
 music in, 32 ; respect for old 
 women in, 34; match-making, 
 84 ; married women, distinction 
 in dress, 34; children, how 
 reared, 34 ; clothing in, 35 ; 
 plough in, 35 ; mode of living in, 
 35 ; Great and Little, differences 
 between, 23. 
 
 Russian empire, extent and popula- 
 tion, 19. 
 
 Russians, characteristic traits of, 24. 
 
 St. Anselm, 240. 
 
 St. Petersburgh, ice hills in, 33. 
 
 St. Victor, Hugh of, 243. 
 
 Richard of, 243. 
 Salon, in France, character and 
 
 fluctuations of, 164. 
 Saracen women veiled, 89. 
 Saxons and Angles in England, 190; 
 
 feasting and merry making of, 
 
 208. 
 Scandinavia, society in, 166-189; 
 
 variety of its population, 166 ; 
 
 Scandinavia, continued — 
 
 early character of its people, 
 166. 
 
 Scandinavian, Celtic and Germanic 
 races, different branches of the 
 same great family of nations, 11 ; 
 war the leading feature of, 12; 
 love the chase, 18 ; addicted to 
 games of hazard, 13 ; hospitable, 
 13; food of, 18; intoxicating 
 liquors of, 13 ; mode of living, 18 ; 
 buildings of, 13 ; clothing of, 14 ; 
 relations of the sexes, 14 ; virtue 
 of the women, 14 ; monogamy, 
 14; marriage ceremony, 14; 
 celibacy disgraceful, 15; purity 
 of the marriage state, 15 ; mar- 
 riage allowed but once, 15; 
 adultery rare, and severely 
 punished, 16 ; children, how 
 reared, 16; hospitality of, 16; 
 daily duties of, 17 ; pubhc spec- 
 tacles, 17 ; migratory in charac- 
 ter, 17 ; races in England, 190 ; 
 dead, what disposition made 
 of, 17. 
 
 Schelling, Frederick Wm. Von, dates 
 and philosophy of, 414-430 ; dif- 
 fers from Fichte, 414; ego of, 
 415 ; his view of the external 
 world, 415 ; idea of intuitions, 
 416 ; theory of nature of, 418 ; 
 views entertained by him vary 
 at different periods of his life, 
 418 ; his view of existence, 430 ; 
 chemical process in his system, 
 422 ; denies that nature, acts 
 with purpose, 424 ; revelations 
 of the infinite, according to, 
 425 ; his idea of man, 425 ; idea 
 of religious faith, 425 ; denies 
 creation in the proper sense of 
 the term, 426 ; his theory of 
 creation, 428 ; his idea of free- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 531 
 
 Schelling, continued — 
 
 dom, 429 ; his theory of evil, 
 429 ; admits no higher intelli- 
 gence than the self-conscious- 
 ness of man, 430 ; brief summary 
 of his system, 431. 
 
 Scholastic philosophy, great feature 
 of, 238, 239 ; its real life and 
 purpose, 253 ; and modern phi- 
 losophy, transition period be- 
 tween, 256. 
 
 Scholasticism, reactions against, 
 243, 244 ; first period of, 239. 
 
 Schools of philosophy, sensualistic 
 or idealistic, dogmatical in cha- 
 racter, 258; ultimate conclu- 
 sions of, 259 ; escape from, 259. 
 
 Science distinguished from philo- 
 sophy, 245. 
 
 Sciences, the five fundamental, in 
 the positive philosophj^, 491. 
 
 Scottish clan illustrates the exten- 
 sion of society, 10 ; school of 
 philosophy, 347-383. 
 
 Scotus, Duns, dates and philosophy 
 of, 249. 
 
 Seine, banks of the, 160. 
 
 Sensualism, peripatetic school of, 
 264. 
 
 Sensualistic philosophy, when ori- 
 ginated, 261, 270 ; differs from 
 the rationalistic, 274 ; summary 
 of its progress, 338. 
 
 Sequidilla dance, 90. 
 
 Serfdom, abolition of, in Europe, 115; 
 nature of, 115 ; steps of its abo- 
 lition in Grermany, 115 ; effects 
 of its abolition in Germany, 116 ; 
 in Russia, 21. 
 
 Serfs in Germany, dwellings, dress, 
 living and treatment of, 123. 
 
 Sexes, relation of, among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 14. 
 
 Sheep shearing, feast of, 231. 
 
 SiciUans, animated, 101 ; ladies, 101 ; 
 
 Siesta, Spanish, 91. 
 
 Simousin, character of its people, 
 
 lai. 
 
 Sisters of Charity in France, charac- 
 ter and work of, 156, 157. 
 
 Skepticism, 332, 341 ; confined to, 
 270; modern origin of, 266; 
 opposed to dogmatism, 259 ; 
 questions of, 259 ; abuse of, 260. 
 
 Slavic races, society among, 19, 36 ; 
 among the latest born of the 
 European population, 19; still 
 show their Asiatic origin, 19 ; 
 bound together, and subject to 
 Russia, 19. 
 
 SUngs used in England, 220. 
 
 Smoking in Turkey, 39. 
 
 Social life in Germany, how divided, 
 118 ; tendency of, 151 : charac- 
 ter of, in France, 151 ; instinct 
 entirely human, 9. 
 
 Society, nature of, 1 ; presupposes 
 law, 1 : shows the forces inhe- 
 rent in human nature, 2 ; the 
 safety valve of every age and 
 people, 2 : sources of, 2 ; sphere 
 of, 2, 3 ; has its own code of 
 laws, 3 ; the sphere of woman, 
 4; modified by climate, 4; in- 
 fluenced by industry, 6 ; modi- 
 fied by religion, 6, 7; and by 
 religious ceremonies,7 ; modified 
 by government, 8; state of in 
 old monarchies, 8 ; in republics, 
 9 ; modified by art, 9 ; its ele- 
 mentary state in family, 9 ; en- 
 tirely human in its character, 9 ; 
 extends to the clan, tribe or 
 horde, 10 ; then to nations or 
 races, 10 ; mixed, 11 ; European 
 mode of its development, 11 ; as 
 it existed among the Scandina- 
 vian, Celtic and Germanic races. 
 
532 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Society, continued — 
 
 11-19; as it exists among the 
 Slavic races, 19-36 ; in Russia, 
 19-36; as it exists among the 
 Turks, 36-43; as it existed in 
 the middle ages, and under the 
 feudal system, 43; among the 
 Teutonic races as influenced by 
 their settlement in the Roman 
 provinces, 43, 44; under the 
 feudal system, 45-55 ; as it ex- 
 isted in the age of chivalry, 55- 
 72 ; as it existed in the age of 
 the troubadours, 72-80 ; in the 
 Spanish peninsula, 80-95; in 
 the Italian peninsula, 95-106 ; 
 in Florence, 101 ; in Naples, 101 ; 
 in Switzerland, 106-111 ; among 
 the German nations, 111-130; 
 in Germany but little effected 
 by the abolition of serfdom, 116 ; 
 in France, 130-166 ; in France 
 effect of the French revolution 
 upon, 140 ; in France affected 
 by the French revolution, 149 ; 
 among the Scandinavian na- 
 tions, 166-189 ; in France took 
 its hue and coloring from, 144; 
 bane of, 144 ; in the British 
 isles, 189 ; governed by what, 
 189 ; barrier to, 189. 
 
 Sociology in Comte's philosophy, 
 500. 
 
 Soldiery in Russia, living and endur- 
 ance of, 23. 
 
 Song of the Russian robber, 24. 
 
 Sorcery, charge of, against the Duch- 
 ess of Gloucester, 212. 
 
 Soul, the, nature of according to 
 Bacon, 283. 
 
 Spain, schools of, 244; the ruling 
 power in Europe, 85 ; evil effect 
 of its arbitrary government, and 
 inquisition, 86. 
 
 Spaniard, general appearance and 
 character, 85, 
 
 Spanish character different in the 
 different provinces, 84; causes 
 of, 84 ; some approximation to- 
 wards unity in, 85 ; obstacles to 
 unity in, 85 ; reserved, 86 ; slow- 
 ness of, 86 ; naturally gay, lively, 
 and energetic, 87 ; fandango, 90 ; 
 fondness for the dance, 90 ; 
 gallants, 89 ; ladies' features and 
 forms, 87 ; character of, 88 ; ma- 
 ture early, 88 ; marry early, 88 ; 
 position of after marriage, 89 ; 
 ladies, occupations of, 89 ; pen- 
 insula, physical peculiarities of, 
 81 ; different peoples of, 81, 82 ; 
 repasts, called tertulias and 
 refrescos, 91 ; soldiers, bravery, 
 etc., 87. 
 
 Spear or javelin, throwing of in 
 England, 220. 
 
 Spectacles, public, among the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 17. 
 
 Spinning circle in Germany, 126. 
 
 Spinoza, Baruch or Benedict, dates 
 and philosophy of, 327. 
 
 Sports of the English people, 216- 
 234. 
 
 Spurzheim, Dr. J. G., dates and phi- 
 losophy, or phrenology of, 370. 
 
 Starost, power of, absolute, 20. 
 
 Succession, the law of, among the 
 ancient Britons, 208. 
 
 Sueves invade and settle in the 
 Spanish peninsula, 82. 
 
 Suicides in France, 158. 
 
 Sully, 145. 
 
 Sunday and holiday dance in Russia, 
 32. 
 
 Superstitions of the Anglo-Saxons, 
 209 ; of the French peasantry, 
 134 ; in Germany, 123 ; of Nor- 
 way, 178 ; in Russia, 25. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 533 
 
 Sweden, nature of its country, 169 ; 
 population of, 169 ; amusements 
 in, 169 ; merchants in, 169 ; no- 
 bility in, 169 ; woman in, 170 ; 
 education in, 171 ; court of, 171 ; 
 peasantry in, 171 ; marriages in, 
 172. 
 
 Swedes, dinner parties of, 171; 
 amusements of, 169; games of 
 hazard, 170 ; ladies, appearance, 
 character, etc., 170. 
 
 Swedish court, formal, 171. 
 
 Swimming in England, 221. 
 
 Swing, the, in Eussia, 33. 
 
 Swiss trials in firing at a mark, 107 ; 
 character displayed among the 
 Alps, 108 ; customs in some lo- 
 calities very ancient, 108 ; shep- 
 herds and husbandmen, 108; 
 character and appearance, 109. 
 
 Switzerland, primitive inhabitants 
 of, 106 ; but little taste for society 
 in, 109 ; manners, their simple, 
 109 ; diversity of physiognomies, 
 109; domestic happiness and 
 virtues strong, 109 ; education 
 in, 110 ; invincible spirit of free- 
 dom, 110 ; games of chance pro- 
 hibited, 110 ; amusements, 110 ; 
 cleanliness in house and person, 
 110 ; preserves simplicity of the 
 pastoral life, 110; equality in 
 politics and condition, 110 ; 
 • houses, nature of, 110 ; no nota- 
 ries or attorneys in some parts 
 of, 110; idiocy and goitre in, 
 111. 
 
 Taxation in Germany, cause and 
 effects, 116, 117. 
 
 Telesio, Bernado, dates and philoso- 
 phy of, 265. 
 
 Tessin, canton of, people, 1.07. 
 
 Testimony in a court of justice in 
 Brunswick, truthfulness of, 121. 
 
 Teutonic nations influenced by set- 
 tlement in Roman provinces, 43 ; 
 by intermixture, 43 ; by conver- 
 sion, 43; in industry, 44; race 
 in France, 132. 
 
 Thanes, the, in England, entertain- 
 ments of, 208. 
 
 Theatre in France, mission of, 160 
 influence of upon morals, bad 
 161 ; direction of, 161 ; receives 
 support from the government, 
 162 ; claquery in, 162. 
 
 Thinking, fundamental law of, ac- 
 cording to Fichte, 405. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas, dates and philo- 
 sophy of, 246; demonstration 
 of the existence of God, 247. 
 
 Thuringians, character of, 126. 
 
 Tournaments, resemble the Olympic 
 games of Greece, 62; differed 
 from jousts, 63; description of, 
 63; manner of awarding and 
 bestowing prizes, etc., 64; died 
 out, 70; continued in Sweden, 
 70; annual exhibition of at 
 Drottningholm, Sweden, 71 ; 
 beneficial result of, 71. 
 
 Tracy, Count Destutt de, dates and 
 philosophy of, 310. 
 
 Transition between mediaeval and 
 modern times found iiLCerdagne 
 and Roussillon, 80 ; period 
 between the scholastic and 
 modern philosophy, 256 ; pro- 
 cesses of, 256. 
 
 Tribunals, or courts of love, when 
 originated, 76 ; contributions to, 
 76; where held, 76; construc- 
 tion of, 77 ; questions discussed, 
 77; culmination of, 77; influ- 
 ence upon society, 78; cessa- 
 tion of, 78. 
 
634 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Troubadours, age of, 73 ; derivation 
 of the name, 73 ; home of, 73 ; 
 period of, 73 ; die out, 79 ; songs 
 of, revived in our time, 79. 
 
 Trouveres in Normandy, 78 ; period 
 of, 78 ; how known in England, 
 78 ; the epic poets of France, 78. 
 
 Turkey, necessary to the peace of 
 Europe, 37; climate and soil, 
 37 ; art of bathing in, 38 ; dress 
 in, 38 ; ablutions in, 39 ; smok- 
 ing in, 39 ; use of opium in, 
 39 ; houses in, 40 ; dinner how 
 served in, 40 ; difference in cus- 
 toms between Turkey and Eu- 
 rope, 40, 41 ; marriages in, 41 ; 
 polygamy in, 42; wife, duties, 
 and privileges of, 42 ; married 
 women position of, 42. 
 
 Turkish dominion in Europe, pre- 
 sents the introduction of Asia 
 into Europe, 36. 
 
 Tm'ks, the, external appearance of, 
 37 ; houses of, 37 ; food of, 38 ; 
 drink of, 38 ; dress of, 38 ; earthly 
 paradise of, 39 ; ablutions of, 
 39; smoking of, 39; contradic- 
 tions in character and customs 
 of, 40 ; origin of, 36 ; solemnity 
 of by day, 42; hilarity of by 
 night, 42. 
 
 Yalencians, character of, 84. 
 
 Vandals invade the Spanish penin- 
 sula, 82. 
 
 Van Helmont, J. Baptist, dates and 
 philosophy of, 269. 
 
 Vanini, dates and reasoning of, 265_ 
 
 Veneration for the past, the result 
 of feudalism, 52 ; its good and 
 evil results, 52, 53. 
 
 Venetians, lively, 99 ; appearance, 
 99 ; women, 99 ; fondness for 
 
 Venetians, continued — 
 
 theatricals and amusements, 99 ; 
 carnival, 99 ; ladies, position of, 
 99 ; courtesans sold in infancy, 
 99. 
 
 Venice, the city in the sea, 98 ; cere- 
 mony of Ascension day at, 98 ; 
 doge of, married to the Adriatic, 
 98. 
 
 Vice, systematized in Paris, 156. 
 
 Vikings, the, consisted of, 12 ; occu- 
 pations, amusements, etc., 12. 
 
 Village council in Russia, 31; or 
 township in Russia, govern- 
 ment, etc., of, 20. 
 
 Villages in Russia, appearance of, 
 29, 31. 
 
 Vine culture in Germany, 123, 124. 
 
 Vineyards in Germany, 123. 
 
 Vintage in Germany, season and 
 manner, 124. 
 
 Visigoths invade and rule in the 
 Spanish peninsula, 82. 
 
 Vosges, character of its people, 131. 
 
 Wakes in England, 229. 
 
 Walloon romance, mother . of 
 the modern French language, 
 where flourished, 73 ; when, 73. 
 
 Warwick, Neville, earl of, 212. 
 
 Weavers among the Erz mountains, 
 see miners, 125. 
 
 Welchman, 226. 
 
 Westphalia and Oldenburg, custom 
 in, 126. 
 
 White Russia, dialects, 19. 
 
 Whitsuntide in Germany, festivities 
 of, 128. 
 
 William de Champeaux, 241, 242. 
 
 Window glass, when introduced 
 into England, 198. 
 
 Wine, mode of making it in Ger- 
 many, 124, 125. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 535 
 
 Wolf, Christian, dates and philoso- 
 phy of, 347. 
 
 Woman, her injfluence on civiliza- 
 tion, 4 ; position of in the Ger- 
 manic tribes, 15; in Russia, 
 early maturity, 26 ; dress of, in 
 Russia, 29 ; premature decay, 
 26 ; use paint and rouge immo- 
 derately, 26 ; savage treatment 
 of, by the husband, 26 ; condi- 
 tion of, 26 ; duty and elevation 
 of, under the feudal system, 49 ; 
 elevation and position of in the 
 age of chivalry, 61-63 ; in Ger- 
 many superior, but not a divi- 
 nity as in Provence, 79 ; posi- 
 tion of in Italy, 99, 100 ; position 
 of in France, 144 ; her position 
 in France during the reign of 
 Henry lY, 145 ; during the 
 reign of Louis XIII, 145 ; posi- 
 tion of in France, during the 
 times of the Fronde, 146 ; dur- 
 ing the reign of Louis XIV, 147 ; 
 depravity of during the reign of 
 Louis XY, 148, 149 ; part played 
 
 Woman, continued — 
 
 by, in politics in France, 162 ; 
 
 empire of in France, 163 ; re- 
 tains her youth in France, 164 ; 
 
 conversational powers of, 164 ; 
 
 in Sweden, 170. 
 Women, Germanic, virtue of, 14 ; 
 
 old, respected in Russia, 34; 
 
 negotiate marriages, 34 ; married 
 
 easily known, 34; careful, 34; 
 
 in Germany, field work of, 121 ; 
 
 as intriguantes in France, 145 ; 
 
 in Korway, 178. 
 Wooden ware manufacturers among 
 
 the Erz mountains, see miners, 
 
 125. 
 Wrestling in Russia, 33 ; in England, 
 
 221. 
 Wyckhffe, 211. 
 Wykeham, 211. 
 
 Young, the, early training of, in 
 France, 152 ; in Germany, given 
 to amusements, 126. 
 
>7